lately.”
Julia’s voice was resentful. “What do you mean?”
Both Alexander and I caught Marcellus’s uneasy glance at Gallia. “Something about the Red Eagle,” he said.
“What? Does she think he’s hiding in a jar?”
“No. But trust me, it’s better this way.”
Octavia opened the door to our chamber, then stepped back when she saw the five of us together. “Gallia, what is this?”
“They are preparing for the theater, Domina,” she said lightly.
“Do you like my tunic?” Julia asked. She spun around, and there was no evidence on her face that she had been wearing red ochre just a few moments before.
“Is that a new purchase?” Octavia frowned.
“Yesterday. Selene has one as well. There’s enough material for Antonia, if you like.”
Octavia smiled thinly. “Thank you, but I think something more modest suits her better.”
Julia wasn’t offended. “So what play are we going to see?”
“And do you know who’s coming?” Marcellus asked, taking her arm and steering her from our chamber.
“Agrippa, Juba, Maecenas, Terentilla. And, Julia, you’ll be happy to know that Horatia will probably be there with Pollio.”
Marcellus glanced back at Julia, and his look was pitying.
“Why? Who’s Horatia?” my brother asked.
Julia’s gaze narrowed. “She used to go to the ludus with us. But Livia arranged her marriage last year.”
“So what’s wrong with that?”
“Her husband is a disgusting old man—and she was only thirteen.”
I exchanged a look with Alexander as we left the chamber.
“Why would Livia do that?” he asked nervously.
“Because Horatia was my closest friend. She even taught me to swim,” Julia whispered, and her eyes shone with tears.
“And for that she arranged a terrible marriage?”
“She would have arranged a marriage with Cerberus if he had been available. And now Horatia’s pregnant with an old merchant’s child.”
We reached the portico, where half a dozen curtained litters were waiting, and I shared one with Julia. We had taken an early meal in the triclinium, and the setting sun burnished our curtains red and gold.
“If I were a better person,” Julia said suddenly, “I would never have let you paint my face.”
“Why?”
“Because if Livia ever discovered it, she would do the same thing to you.”
I sat straighter against the cushions. “I would never let that happen.”
Julia laughed mirthlessly. “There’d be nothing you could do. Even Octavia can’t change my father’s mind once it’s made up. And Livia’s there all the time,” she added, “whispering into his ear like Boreas.” I wondered how she knew about the Greek god of the north wind, and before I could ask, Julia said sharply, “I’m not a complete fool. I listen.” We rode the rest of the way in silence, and when we reached the Campus Martius and the litters stopped, Julia explained, “We walk from here. My father thinks it looks better to the plebs if we arrive on foot.”
When the six slaves lowered our litter to the ground, I parted the curtains and was helped up by Marcellus. He saw the look on my face and asked, “A happy ride with Julia, then?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Julia said accusingly.
“Oh, cheer up. Can you remember the last time we went to the theater?”
“Before my father left for Egypt.”
“That’s right. And even if Horatia is married to Pot-Bellied Pollio, at least she has the denarii to come.”
“If she had any sense, she’d use it to buy poison for him.”
Marcellus shrugged. “He’ll be dead before she’s twenty-five. And then she can remarry.”
“The two of you are disgusting,” Tiberius said.
I hadn’t noticed that he was walking behind us with his younger brother. Julia didn’t bother to turn around, but Marcellus said swiftly, “Perhaps your mother can marry you off to some old matron with a sagging
Seeing my look, Alexander cut his laughter short. “Octavian is in front of us,” I said in Parthian. “And everyone else.” Twenty soldiers were escorting us to the theater, and Octavian was flanked by Agrippa and Juba. Their long togas flapped in the late summer’s breeze, but beneath them, I could see the shadow of chain mail. Immediately, my brother sobered.
We passed beneath a stunning marble arch into the theater, where terraced stone benches had been built into the hill. Behind them stretched a polished mosaic depicting the masks of comedy and tragedy. On either side of the theater were well-tended gardens and colonnades. Everything looked new, or at least well-preserved. “When was this built?” I asked Marcellus.
“Twenty-five years ago.”
“By whom?”
“Pompey. He was Julius’s great rival. Stone theaters were forbidden in Rome, so he built this outside the walls, and even then the people complained. So he added a temple.” I followed his gaze to the Temple of Venus, perched above the seats of the theater. “Notice how the seats are arranged?” he asked. “They’re supposed to look like a grand staircase to the temple.” He laughed. “It’s how he convinced them to build. The workers were afraid of angering the gods! Can you imagine such foolishness?” He had spoken too loudly, and his mother turned. Marcellus lowered his voice. “And that’s where Julius Caesar was killed.” He pointed to the rear of the theater.
“I thought he was murdered in the Senate,” Alexander said.
“Sometimes the Senate would meet here in the Curia.”
“That’s why my father thinks it’s bad luck here,” Julia said suddenly. “And why he takes so many soldiers.”
I saw no sign of Octavian’s nervousness as we approached the padded benches that had been reserved for us in the first row. Instead, he chatted with Terentilla, and I could see from the look on Livia’s face that a storm was about to break. As I took my place between Alexander and Octavia, I heard Livia suggest, “Perhaps we women should set an example for the rest of Rome and take our seats in the upper tiers.” When Octavian looked uncertain, she continued, “You are Caesar now. Women are not allowed to sit with men in the stadia. Why should it be allowed in the theater?”
“Because we are the ruling family of Rome,” Octavia said, overruling her, “and we know how to conduct ourselves in public.”
“My sister is right. Octavia is an example to all of Rome for charity and virtue. As are you,” Octavian amended.
“And Terentilla?” Livia asked him with a sweetness that was terrifying. “Is she a part of this family?”
Octavian set his jaw. “Anyone married to Maecenas is family.”
A young girl was coming toward us, holding her swollen belly, and suddenly Livia’s mood brightened considerably. “Horatia!”
The girl did her best to return Livia’s smile. Her seat was next to Julia’s, on the farthest end of the bench, but she stopped before Octavian to greet him properly.
“Caesar, it is good to see you in fine health.”
“And you,” he said briefly. “So where is Pollio, your husband?”
“Speaking with a merchant, I believe.”
Octavian appeared displeased. “Doing business in the theater?”
“He would do business underwater in the baths if he thought he could make money,” she said with resignation. “I hope you enjoy the show.”
I inhaled the warm scent of lavender as she passed, and when Pollio appeared, I held my breath.
“Is that him?” Alexander whispered in Parthian.
