She raised her hand to her mouth and yawned. “It was so unnecessary for your tone to harden,” she said reproachfully. “You yourself have noticed the change in me. No, Tertius Valerius would not understand and forgive me if he saw that I were wanton. But forget what I have said. I merely spoke what came to my head. Some other man would have considered my words a compliment. Only you are as hard-headed as ever.”
Only a few days later, when the palling after-effects of the festival were still felt throughout the city, and I myself was depressed to think that I was nothing, Arsinoe came to me in great haste. Her face was set in a hard white mask, not beautiful but horrifying as a Gorgon in my eyes.
“Turms,” she said sharply, “have you looked at Hanna recently? Have you noticed something different about her?”
I had not looked at Hanna especially although I had felt her presence and bright glance whenever I played with Misme. “What is wrong?” I asked in surprise. “Perhaps her face is thinner. Surely she is not ill?”
Arsinoe struck her hands together in impatience. “How blind you men are! Still, I myself have been just as blind in trusting that girl. I thought I had reared her well, but now she is pregnant.”
“Pregnant-Hanna?” I stammered.
“I happened to look at her and demanded an explanation,” said Arsinoe. “She had to confess, for she can’t hide her condition much longer. That stupid slut obviously thought that she could deceive me, her mistress, and began to sell herself. Or perhaps, in even greater stupidity, she became fond of some handsome lictor or wrestler and slept with him. But I’ll teach her!”
Only then did I remember my own guilt with a pang. It was I who had warmed my loneliness with her virginity in the harbor of Panormos. But Arsinoe had assured me that I was sterile, so Hanna could not have become pregnant by me. I had merely opened the way, and it was my fault if she had succumbed to temptation in a city like Rome. But that I could not confess to Arsinoe.
Arsinoe became calmer and pondered on the matter coldly. “She has betrayed my trust. What a price I would have received for her if she were undefiled, and how well I would have arranged everything for her! She could have even earned enough to buy her freedom in accordance with Roman laws. But a pregnant female slave will be bought at best by some overseer who wants to increase his workers. But why weep over a broken crock? We’ll sell her quickly, that’s all.”
Horrified, I declared that Hanna had, after all, taken good care of Misme and that Arsinoe should not have been concerned with her support since Tertius Valerius bore the cost of it.
Arsinoe screamed shrilly at my stupidity, shook my shoulders and exclaimed, “Do you want a harlot to care for your daughter? What manners do you think she will teach Misme? And what will Tertius think of us for not keeping an eye on our servant? First the girl must be flogged, and I myself shall see to it that it is not done clumsily.”
And again I can plead no defense save that everything happened too rapidly and that my own feeling of guilt stunned me. As Arsinoe rushed out I sat with my head between my hands staring at the colored tiles of the floor and was roused only by screams of agony coming from the courtyard.
Running outside, I saw Hanna tied by her wrists to a stake and the stable slave lashing her bare back so that welts had formed on her smooth skin. I snatched the whip from the slave’s hand and, blind with rage, struck him across the face with it. Arsinoe stood nearby, red-faced and quivering.
“That’s enough,” I said. “Sell the girl if you wish, but she must be sold to a good man who will take care of her.”
Hanna had slumped to the ground, hanging by her wrists, and sobs shook her body although she tried to control them. Arsinoe stamped her foot and her eyes were round.
“Don’t interfere, Turms! The girl must confess who has raped her and with how many she has slept and where she has hidden the money that she has earned. It is our money and we can collect something from the rapist if we threaten him with legal action.”
At that I slapped Arsinoe across the face. It was the first time that I had hit her and I was frightened by it myself. Arsinoe turned pale and her face twisted, but to my surprise she remained calm.
When I took out my knife to free Hanna, Arsinoe signaled to the slave and said to me, “Don’t cut the costly thongs. Let the slave open the knots. If the girl is so dear to you that you don’t want to know what happened, so be it. Let her be led immediately to the cattle market to be sold. I myself will accompany her there to make certain that she finds a respectable master, even though she doesn’t deserve one. But you have always been tender- hearted and I must obey your wishes.”
Hanna raised her face from the ground, her eyelids swollen from weeping. She had bitten her lips raw, for despite the flogging she had refused to divulge a word although it would have been easy for her to name me as the one who had led her down the wrong path. But her glance was not accusing. She merely opened her eyes as though in joy that she could see me defending her.
A cowardly relief came over me when I caught her glance and it did not occur to me that Arsinoe might be untrustworthy. Nevertheless I felt sufficiently skeptical to ask, “Do you swear to look out for the girl’s good even though it means getting a lower price for her?”
Arsinoe looked me in the eye, took a deep breath and assured me, “Of course I swear it. The price makes no difference so long as we get rid of the girl.”
One of the household slaves brought her the large stole worn by Roman women and draped it over her head and shoulders. The stable slave pulled Hanna to her feet, tossed a rope around her neck and so they departed through the gate, the slave first, leading Hanna by the rope, and Arsinoe last, tightly wrapped in her stole.
I ran after them, touched Arsinoe’s shoulder and begged in a tearchoked voice, “At least take down the name and city of the purchaser so that we will know where Hanna is.”
Arsinoe paused, shook her head and said gently, “Turms dear, I have already forgiven you, for I understand your ugly behavior. Apparently it is as though you had to let some beloved animal be killed because of sickness. In such a case, doesn’t the kind master entrust the deed to a dependable friend without seeking to know how and where it happens or where the carcass is buried? For your own sake it is better that you don’t know where the girl goes. Trust me, Turms. I will take care of everything for you since you are so sensitive.”
She brushed my cheek with her hand and hastened after the slave. I had to admit that Arsinoe’s words sounded reasonable, but doubt gnawed at my heart and I felt guilty no matter how I tried to persuade myself that as an Elymian Hanna was innately wanton. Otherwise she would not so readily have flung herself into my arms. It would be better for me if I thought no more of the matter.
In that Arsinoe helped me, for when she returned that afternoon she was so considerate that she did not even mention the price that she had obtained for Hanna. Nor did she say one word about the matter even later. That in itself should have made me suspicious, but instead it helped me to forget. So settled was I in everyday life in Tcrtius Valerius’ house.
4.
It was probably meant that I should struggle within walls for the nine long and certainly hard years indicated by the ravens, so that I would better learn to know life and achieve the proper age. That is undoubtedly why Arsinoe was ordained to be my companion, for it is doubtful whether any other woman would have succeeded in keeping me fettered to the earth and everyday life for such a long period. Indeed, it was because of her that Tertius Valerius took me aside one day to talk to me in his kindly old man’s way.
“My dear son Turnus,” he said amiably, “you know that I am fond of you and that your wife’s presence brightens my old days. But my illness in the forum was a healthy reminder of mortality. You yourself know that any day I may fall lifeless to the ground. And that is why I am so concerned about your future.
“You see, dear Turnus,” he continued in his quavering voice, “as much as I like you, permit me as an old man to say that the life you are leading is not worthy of a man. You must brace yourself. You have looked around long enough to understand Roman customs and you even speak the language better than some Sabine or other person who has been transplanted here to increase the population. You can pass for a Roman as well as anyone else if you but choose.”
He shook his head, smiled with wrinkled eyes and observed, “You probably think, as I do, that this is a brutal
