was too much for her, that’s why. After me, a woman don’t want another.’
The laughter was coarse and brutal and Alexandria shuddered as they moved away.
She heard light footsteps behind her and spun, raising the hammer.
‘It’s all right, it’s me,’ Metella said, her face pale. She had heard the end of it. Both women had tears in their eyes.
‘Are you certain about this, mistress?’
‘Quite certain, Alexandria, but you’ll have to run. It will be worse if you stay here. Sulla is a vengeful man and there is no reason for you to be caught up in his spite. Go and find this Tabbic. You have the paper I signed?’
‘Of course. It is the dearest thing I own.’
‘Keep it safe. The next few months will be difficult and dangerous. You will need proof you are a free woman. Invest the money Gaius left for you and stay safe until the city legion has restored order.’
‘I just wish I could thank him.’
‘I hope you have the chance one day.’ Metella stepped up to the bars and unlocked them, looking up and down the street. ‘Go quickly now. The road is clear for the moment, but you must hurry down to the market. Don’t stop for anything, you understand?’
Alexandria nodded stiffly, not needing to be told after what she had heard. She looked at Metella’s pale skin and dark eyes and felt fear touch her.
‘I just worry about you in this great house, all alone. Who will look after you, with the house empty?’
Metella held up a hand in a gentle gesture.
‘Have no fear for me, Alexandria. I have friends who will spirit me away from the city. I will find a warm foreign land and retire there, away from all the intrigue and pains of a growing city. Somewhere ancient appeals to me, where all the struggle of youth is but a distant memory. Stay to the main street. I can’t relax until the last of my family is safely away.’
Alexandria held her gaze for a second, her eyes bright with tears. Then she nodded once and passed through the gates, closing them firmly behind her and hurrying away.
Metella watched her go, feeling every one of her years in comparison to the young girl’s light steps. She envied the ability of the young to start anew, without looking back at the old. Metella kept her in sight until she turned a street corner and then looked inwards to her empty, echoing home. The great house and gardens were empty at last.
How could Marius not be here? It was an eerie thought. He had been gone so often on long campaigns, yet always returned, full of life and wit and strength. The idea that he would not return once more for her was an ugly wound that she would not examine. It was too easy to imagine that he was away with his legion, conquering new lands or building huge aqueducts for foreign kings. She would sleep and, when she awoke, the awful sucking pain inside her would be gone and he would be there to hold her.
She could smell smoke on the air. Ever since Sulla’s attack on the city three days before, there had been fire, raging untended from house to house and street to street. It had not reached the stone houses of the rich yet, but the fire that roared in Rome would consume them all eventually, piling ashes on ashes until there was nothing left of dreams.
Metella looked out at the city that sloped away from the hill. She leaned against a marble wall and felt its coolness as a comfort against the thick heat. There were vast black plumes of churning smoke lifting into the air from a dozen points and spreading into a grey layer, the colour of despair. Screams carried on the wind as the marauding soldiers fought without mercy and the raptores on the streets killed or raped anything that crossed their path.
She hoped Alexandria would get through safely. The house guards had deserted her the morning they heard of Marius’ death. She supposed she was lucky they had not murdered her in her bed and looted the house, but the betrayal still stung. Had they not been treated fairly and well? What was left to stand on in a world where a man’s oath could vanish in the first warm breeze?
She had lied to Alexandria of course. There was no way out of the city for her. If it was dangerous to send a young slave girl on a journey of only a few streets, it was impossible for a well-known lady to transport her wealth past the wolves that roamed the roads of Rome, looking for just such opportunities. Perhaps she could have disguised herself as a slave, even travelled with one of the slaves. With luck, they might have got out alive, though she thought it more than likely that they would have been hurt and abused and left for the dogs somewhere. There had been no law in Rome for three days and to some that was a heady freedom. If she had been younger and braver she might have taken the risk, but Marius had been her courage for too long.
With him, she could stand the sniggers of society ladies as they discussed her childless state behind her back. With him, she could face the world with an empty womb and still smile and not give way to screaming. Without him, she could not dare the streets alone and start again as a penniless refugee.
Metal-studded sandals ran past the gates and Metella felt a shiver start in her shoulders and run through her. It would not be long before the fighting reached this area and the looters and murderers that moved with Sulla would be breaking down the iron gates of Marius’ old city home. She had received reports for the first two days until her messengers too had deserted her. Sulla’s men had poured into the city, taking and holding street after street, using the advantage that Marius had created for them. With the First-Born spread all around the city walls, they could not bring the bulk of their forces against the invader for most of the first night of fighting and by then Sulla had dug in and was content to continue a creeping battle, dragging his siege engines through the streets to smash barricades and lining the roads behind him with the heads of Marius’ men. It was said the great temple of Jupiter had been burned, with flames so hot that the marble slabs cracked and exploded, bringing down the columns and the heavy pillars, spilling them onto the piazza with thunderous reports. The people said it was an omen, that the gods were displeased with Sulla, but still he seemed to be winning.
Then her reports had ended, and at night she knew that the rhythmic victory chants echoing across Rome were not from the throats of the First-Born.
Metella reached up to her shoulder and took hold of the strap there, lifting it away from her skin. She shrugged it off and reached for the other. In a moment, her dress slipped into a puddle of material and she stepped naked from it, her back to the gates as she walked through the arches and doors, deeper into the house. The air felt cooler on her uncovered skin and she shivered again, this time with a touch of pleasure. How strange it was to be naked in these formal rooms!
As she walked, she slipped bangles from her hands and rings from her fingers, placing the handful of precious metal on a table. Marius’ wedding ring she kept, as she had promised him that she would never take it off. She loosed her hair from the bands and let it spill down her back in a wave, tossing her head to make the crimps and curls fall out.
She was barefoot and clean as she entered the bathing hall and felt the steam coat her with the tiniest trace of gleaming moisture. She breathed it in and let the warmth fill her lungs.
The pool was deep and the water freshly heated, the last task of the departing slaves and servants. She let out a small sigh as she stepped down into the clear pool, made dark blue by the mosaic base. For a few seconds, she closed her eyes and thought back over the years with Marius. She’d never minded the long periods he spent away from Rome and their home with the First-Born. Had she known how short the time would be, she would have gone with him, but it was not the moment for pointless regrets. Fresh tears slid from under her eyelids without effort or any release of tension.
She remembered when he was first commissioned and his pleasure at each rise in rank and authority. He had been glorious in his youth and the lovemaking had been joyous and wild. She had been an innocent girl when the muscular young soldier had proposed. She hadn’t known about the ugly side of life, about the pain as year after year passed without children to bring her joy. Each one of her friends had pressed out screaming child after child and some of them broke her heart