“And a plague-”
“Not a single Vestal died, or even became ill. Does talking about disasters always make you so hard?”
“Only with you.”
They made love again. They had never met without making love more than once, perhaps to make up for the infrequency of their meetings. To Lucius, the second time was always better than the first – less hurried and more relaxed, with a greater sense of union between them and a more satisfying climax for both. For the duration of their lovemaking, all his questions about existence were suspended. Each moment was sufficient in itself.
He held her tightly as she reached the crisis. He had never felt closer to her. But afterwards, she slipped out of his embrace and turned her back to him.
“This is the last time we’ll meet for a while,” she said. “For several months, at least.”
“Why?”
“I’m going away. I won’t come back until the spring.”
“It’ll be a long winter without you. Where are you going?”
“To the House of the Vestals at Alba Longa.” The town was a day’s journey down the Appian Way, in a hilly region of quaint villages, luxurious villas and hunting estates.
“That’s only a few hours from Roma. I could come to see you – ”
“No. I’ll be in seclusion. The rules are stricter in Alba. The Vestals there belong to the oldest of all the orders, established even before Roma was founded.”
“I thought the worship of Vesta originated here in Roma.”
She smiled ruefully and shook her head. “And you, a patrician with a name going back to the days of Hercules!”
“The history of religion is not my strong point.”
“I thought you read Titus Livius.”
“Only the parts about my family.”
“Even so, every Roman child should know that Rhea Silvia, the mother of Romulus and Remus, was a Vestal.”
“Imagine that – another Vestal who was not a virgin!”
“Rhea’s father was King Numitor of Alba. He was murdered by his brother, Amulius. Her wicked uncle feared that Rhea might someday produce a rival for the throne, so he forced her to become a Vestal and go into seclusion. But Rhea became pregnant nevertheless. Some say Mars ravished her. Others say her uncle Amulius raped her. However it happened, Rhea kept her condition secret until the twins were born…” Cornelia’s voice trailed off.
“Even I know this part,” said Lucius. “Their mother put the newborn twins in a basket, then a slave took the babies out to a rocky hillside and left them there to die. That was a terrible thing to do, don’t you think?”
“But what choice did Rhea Silvia have? A lot of women do the same thing nowadays. It’s common practice.”
“But what sort of mother could abandon her child to die?”
“Slave women, poor women, girls who’ve been raped. Rhea Silvia faced death if the evidence of her crime was discovered.”
Lucius shook his head. He had never approved of the common practice of abandoning babies, but he did not care to argue with her. “Ah, well, I know the rest of the story. Jupiter raised a tremendous storm, and there was a great flood, and the twins were carried all the way to Roma, where their basket foundered on a hillside. A she-wolf found them, took them to her cave, called the Lupercale, and suckled them. Eventually, Romulus and Remus were adopted by a pig farmer and his wife, grew up to become fearsome warriors, killed the wicked Amulius, rescued their mother, Rhea Silvia, and founded Roma. And the rest is history. But why must you go to Alba, Cornelia? And why for so long?”
“The decision isn’t mine. The Virgo Maxima has ordered me to go. It’s my duty to obey her.” There was something evasive in Cornelia’s tone, but he sensed that there would be no point in pressing her.
“I’ll miss you. I’ll miss this.” He pulled her close. “But even more, I’ll miss this – the thing we do after making love. The banter. The teasing. The serious talk. Will you take another lover, while you’re in Alba?”
“No.” She answered without hesitation.
“Then neither will I,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a man.”
“And you are a woman – the only one I want. To whom else might I turn? The bored wife of some acquaintance looking for an hour’s distraction? A slave, counting the cracks in the ceiling until I’m finished? A whore, with one eye on the coins in my purse? Or perhaps I should look for some doe-eyed young girl fresh on the marriage market whose father is willing to settle for a suitor with a worn-out patrician name, a reputation for keeping company with exiled philosophers, and a family fortune only a little tainted by association with Nero. Not one of those women would be able to discuss philosophy and religion with me afterwards.”
“You might be surprised.”
“I suppose I’ll do what Martial does when one of his boys fails to show up – learn to love my left hand. Or I suppose I could turn to another of the Vestals-”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Varronilla isn’t bad-looking, and she’s even younger than you; maybe too young for my taste. What about the Oculata sisters? I once enjoyed the attentions of a pair of sisters, years ago – and how many men have had sisters who were also Vestals? The sheer novelty of it-”
“Don’t even think about it!” Cornelia gave him a pinch, playful but painful enough to make him yelp. “You and I take precautions, Lucius. We’re discreet. When our paths cross in public – at the Flavian Amphitheatre, in the Forum – we greet each other briefly, as is perfectly natural and acceptable, then we move on. We give no one cause for suspicion. But if you gain a reputation for deliberately seeking the company of Vestals, if you seem to be too familiar with our comings and goings-”
“Cornelia, I was only joking. I was teasing you – the way a man teases the woman he loves when she’s just told him that for months and months he won’t be able to talk to her, or touch her, or do this to her…”
His passion reignited hers. Their lovemaking was fiercer than ever, fired by the knowledge of their coming separation.
AD 85
“And you’ve been faithful to her the entire time, Lucius? Even though you haven’t been alone with her for over a year?” said Martial. They were in the garden of Epaphroditus, along with their host and Epictetus.
“Just as I vowed to her,” said Lucius.
“Let me make sure I understand. This woman went away for several months, then finally returned, and now she refuses to meet with you again, except in public and in passing. Yet still you remain chaste, having no intercourse with either women or boys?”
“That is correct.”
“But, Lucius, this is madness! If the woman’s lost carnal interest in you, you must move on. Oh, I understand the heartache, the longing, the period of grief when a love affair ends. But while you’re waiting for that to pass, you still must attend to your physical needs. If you don’t feel ready yet to take pleasure with another woman, then take a boy, since you have no real interest in boys. That way you can experience all the physical pleasure with none of the regret you might feel for betraying this woman – though how you can betray a woman when it was she who abandoned you is beyond me.”
“Martial, you simply don’t understand. She hasn’t betrayed me. She’s as chaste as I am.”
“Oh, really? How can you believe that? Of course, you won’t even tell us if this woman is married, or a widow, or some other man’s slave, or a common whore in the Subura.”
She is none of those things, thought Lucius, but he could think of no way to explain that fact without giving away Cornelia’s identity.
“Personally,” said Epictetus, “I think there’s nothing perverse or unnatural or even unusual about remaining chaste, if the body and mind are in harmony with such a choice. This mad rage to deflower virgins and sample every
