My brother hesitated. “Vergil has a reading—”
“And you would rather be at the odeum instead of watching a trial for a girl’s life?” I sat up on my couch. “Whenever Vergil is invited to the triclinium, you and Lucius hang on his every word,” I said accusingly. “What is it about him? He’s just an old Ganymede.”
“You shouldn’t say that,” my brother replied.
“Why? Isn’t it true?”
“Yes. But he writes about male love in a way that makes it beautiful. If you read some of his works, Selene, you might change your mind.”
I stared at him. “You aren’t in love with Lucius, are you?”
My brother blushed.
“With a
“We haven’t done anything,” he said defensively. “Just kissed.”
I regarded my brother. His namesake, Alexander the Great, had taken men to his bed and counted the soldier Hephaestion as one of his greatest loves. But he had also taken a wife and given Macedon an heir. “So what do you think you will do when Augustus returns and wants to arrange a marriage for you?” I whispered. “Refuse?”
“No one refuses Augustus. So why spend my last free years—maybe only months—at a trial whose outcome I can’t change, when I can be with Lucius?”
We stared at each other from our couches, and I tried to determine what I felt about this.
“I’m sorry, Selene. It’s nothing I can help.”
“Have you even tried—?”
“Of course,” he said swiftly.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” My voice broke.
“I thought you’d be disappointed.”
He waited for me to tell him I wasn’t; that his desire for Lucius was as normal as Marcellus’s desire for Julia. But I kept my silence, forcing him to explain.
“There are many men who aren’t attracted to women. Look at Maecenas. You don’t think it’s a coincidence that Terentilla’s never had a child? Maecenas isn’t interested, while Augustus has her drink the juice of the silphium plant to keep her from getting pregnant by him.”
“How do you know that?” I demanded crossly.
“I heard it from Maecenas.”
“So men who love other men pass on their secrets to one another?”
My brother raised his brows. “Don’t women?”
“And what does Vitruvius think of you two?”
“He doesn’t know. Or maybe he doesn’t want to.”
“So this is why Lucius didn’t want to marry,” I said.
My brother nodded. “Yes. But unless he can support himself or find a generous patron, he will have to someday. And then we’ll both be miserable, instead of just one of us. That’s why I have to encourage his readings in the odeum. There’s nothing I can do about slavery, Selene. But I can help change Lucius’s life.” He held out his hand to me, and slowly I took it.
“This isn’t how I imagined our lives would be when I was Queen of Libya and you King of Armenia.”
Alexander laughed sadly. “Our father had great plans, didn’t he? The kingdom of Parthia hadn’t even been conquered and he crowned me its king.” We both smiled, remembering our father’s irrepressible belief in himself. “Do you think it’s fate that we’ll lead unfulfilled lives?”
I drew back. “Of course not. Augustus may still make you king.”
“After he’s married me off to some widow.”
“But you’re a man! You can do as you please—send her off to the country or keep her in Rome while you return to Egypt. Maecenas is content enough.”
“But what about you?” His voice was so gentle and full of concern that tears sprang to my eyes.
“I don’t know.”
“If you can forget Marcellus, perhaps you’ll find someone else.”
“For what purpose? To have my heart broken again? This isn’t Egypt, Alexander. When Augustus returns, he’ll find me a husband that’s convenient for him, not me. It could be someone like Catullus or even Aquila. And there would be nothing I could do if he forbade me from visiting you in Alexandria.”
“I would never return without you,” he swore.
“Yes,” I said firmly, “you would. It’s your destiny.” I looked outside. The gardens, which shone blue and green every summer, were still dreary and soaked with rain. “I don’t think unhappiness is fated. Look at Gallia. She was forced into slavery and still found happiness.”
“Because you freed her! But even as citizens we aren’t free. Everything we do, from the food we eat to the clothes we wear, is determined by Augustus!”
“And you’ve always been the one telling me to be practical. But now look. You’ve lost your heart to Lucius, and it’s making you crazy.”
My brother turned away. “It would all be different if Augustus died in Gaul, wouldn’t it? Marcellus is old enough now to be Caesar and he would let us marry whomever we wanted. Then we could return to Alexandria.”
“Augustus’s letters to Octavia are always short,” I said eagerly. “And Julia says she heard that he spends most of his days sleeping. He isn’t strong.”
My brother raised his eyes. “From your mouth to Isis’s ears,” he whispered.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BEFORE ISIS could make a decision about my brother’s prayer, she acted on one of my silent pleas. I was leaving the library, where Vitruvius was making the plans for the Pantheon’s final steps, when Octavia rushed in, too anxious to even realize I was there.
“He’s back!” she exclaimed. “And they’re all over Rome. We finally have
Vitruvius rose from his desk. “Another actum?”
“On the temples of Apollo, Jupiter, Vesta, Castor and Pollux, even Venus Genetrix. It’s short, just a few lines calling people to the trial of Tullia. But Marcellus isn’t here, and there’s not a chance in Hades he could have done it!”
I rushed back to my chamber to tell Alexander the news, and my brother remarked, “So he wasn’t lying.”
When Lucius met us on the portico, he grinned widely at me, as if he already knew what my brother had revealed about him last night, and that I had come to accept it. “I heard from my father about the actum. Now all of Rome will be at the trial.”
“I should think the weather will keep some people away. The old won’t want to come. And certainly not mothers with their children,” I said.
But my prediction was wrong. Despite the dampness in the air, there wasn’t any rain, and even matrons with babies on their hips came to see what had drawn the Red Eagle out of hiding. For months he had not posted a single actum. Whenever we went to the ludus, I glanced at the doors of the temples we passed and felt a keen disappointment. The Red Eagle’s absence had only made me more certain that he was Marcellus, but the latest message removed all possibility.
Thousands of people had gathered in the Forum. Even Octavia had been watching the trial since morning. She explained to us what was happening, and when she saw that Magister Verrius had come with us, her eyebrows rose.
“This case has implications beyond one little girl,” he replied to her unspoken question.
Since the night of Magister Verrius’s arrest, Augustus’s spies had been following him constantly. If they hadn’t found anything yet, there was nothing to find. And now, with Marcellus in Gaul, the two men who had seemed most likely to be the Red Eagle were suddenly innocent. Alexander and Lucius stepped back, letting me
