She did smile then, finally.
“You are kind to me,” she said slowly, in her strange Caledonian accent.
I shrugged, feeling awkward. To be told I was kind reminded me that she was not Livia. It made me uncomfortable.
Taking a household slave with me, I went with Avitoria through the streets of Eboracum. Until now, I had not given a thought to where Avitoria lived. She led me away from the forum, down narrow, dirty streets, where rainwater pooled in front of rooms that backed onto the shops and taverns. People watched curiously and I began to feel uncomfortable.
Avitoria stopped by a small door and knocked. A stray cat slipped by my ankles, and I jumped. I heard footsteps from inside. Avitoria called out in a language I did not understand.
The door was opened hesitantly by another woman, who looked to be from the same tribe as her. They exchanged whispers and glanced at me uncertainly. I blushed. I had begun to realise I had done something foolish. The imperial household slave stood primly by the door, clearly thinking I was as foolish as I thought myself.
After a few moments, a tall, elegant woman, about the age my mother had been when she died, came to the door. She wore a worried frown, but I was astonished when she greeted me in the language of my own city, Punic. On her wrist she wore two bangles: one white ivory, one black jet.
I fumbled the words at first, it having been so long since I had spoken it, and she switched easily to Greek. Her name was Theodora and Avitoria was her slave.
“Do you have no mother, child?” she said, looking at me with sympathy as she led me into the house.
The words made tears well up and I had to swallow. It had been a long time since I had been asked about my mother.
I quickly saw that the two rooms Avitoria and the other slaves shared with their mistress were smaller than my own apartments. Theodora offered me food and drink, and out of good manners I had to accept, although I could see she had something on her mind and would have preferred me to go. She kept glancing towards the back room, as if there was something there that troubled her.
She told me she was a Greek freedwoman from Apollonia, who had married a Gaulish soldier. After he had died she had had to support herself and had a knack for copying hairstyles easily. Now she owned several slaves, like Avitoria, whom she had taught to dress hair with the same skill she had.
“I have been busy since the Empress arrived here,” she said with a smile. “Everyone wants their hair to be just like hers!”
From the back room came a moan of pain.
“Is someone ill?” I asked.
“One of my girls dropped a glass jar and has hurt her foot badly,” she explained. “We have bound up the wound, but she is in a lot of pain. Forgive her, miss.”
“May I see?” I asked.
Theodora looked startled. “If you wish.”
I went to the bedroom and greeted the girl who was lying on the bed. The bandage was already coming undone, and as soon as I saw it I knew I would have to do something. I had never treated a wound like this before, but I had seen my father do it often enough.
“Can you bring me old wine and clean linen cloths?” I said to Theodora. I began unwrapping the bandage. Theodora looked as if she was going to object, but Avitoria quickly whispered in her ear, and she nodded.
I undid the bandage, talking calmly and reassuringly to the girl as I did so. Her name was Vitia and she was an Ethiop, like Aisopos. We were able to talk about the port of Leptis Magna, where she had been bought by the Gaulish captain of a ship. I saw at once that the wound was cut across the muscle, and not downwards. My heart sank. It would never heal like this.
“It needs stitching,” I told Theodora as soon as she came back. “Do you have clean cat gut and a needle?”
Vitia flinched back, her eyes wide with fear. As soon as she understood that the muscles would not join up properly without the stitches, however, she bravely prepared herself. I gave her as much of the wine to drink as she needed to dull her pain, and used the rest to clean the wound. Then, forcing my fingers not to shake, I quickly put in four stitches to seal the wound up.
“There!” I said cheerfully, tying a knot. My father had told me how important it was to make the patient feel that all was well. “All done and it will soon heal as good as new now.”
I was relieved when Vitia slipped into a deep, exhausted sleep, with no fever. But I had not expected Theodora’s gratitude. She kissed my hands, and I felt embarrassed. I had only done what my father had shown me.
“The slaves are like my daughters,” she told me. “I was once like them. When I die, I want them to go free, but not to beg their bread – as skilled hairdressers they can earn their own living.”
Theodora begged me to come to her house whenever I could, after that. I agreed – as long as the Empress did not need me. The girls caught fevers and other illnesses as regularly as anyone – but if they were ill, they could not work, she could not earn, and no one ate. They were so grateful to find someone who would treat them for free that they soon forgot how young I was. And I was not so young after all, any more. As the weeks turned into months, I worried more and more about what would become of me. What if my father never came back from the North?
It was at Theodora’s house that
