An Echo in the Darkness(96)

A stream of sunlight poured into the peristyle. How she hungered for warmth. She walked out into it and lifted her head to feel the sun on her face. She was filled with a deep, aching longing. She stood in the warmth, wanting it to soak in through her skin and warm her from the inside out. Sometimes she was so cold even the hot waters of the tepidarium were not enough to warm her. Sometimes she thought the coldness emanated from her very heart.

Hugging herself, she closed her eyes and saw amber, reddening heat against her eyelids. Patterns moved. She didn’t want to see anything more than that. She didn’t want to think about anything or feel anything other than this one single moment in time. She wanted to forget the past and not be afraid of the future.

Then the light was gone.

Shivering, she opened her eyes and saw that the ray of sunlight was now obscured by a cloud. Sadness welled up inside her until she felt she was suffocating beneath the weight of it.

Inexplicably, she felt like a frightened child desperately in need of her mother. Only three others were in the villa with her now, all slaves: Tropas, a Greek cook; Isidora, a household servant from Macedonia; and Didymas, the Egyptian handmaiden she had bought after Eudemas had run away.

Was it only two years ago that she had had a household of servants at her beck and call? She had once owned four Ethiopian litter bearers, two bodyguards from Gaul, a handmaiden from Britannia, and two others from Crete. There had been more servants when Calabah had lived in the villa, all beautiful young women from the farthest reaches of the Empire. Primus had had his own retinue of male servants, all except three of whom he had sold before deserting her. He had taken the handsome lute player from Greece and a brutal mute Macedonian with a hard face. She hoped the Macedonian had slit Primus’ throat and dumped him overboard to become food for the fish. What a conniving, insidiously evil man he had been. Worse than Caius by far.

Over the past few months, she had been forced to sell most of her own slaves. She no longer had aurei for luxuries, let alone a plenitude of denarii for the barest of essentials. She had had to resort to whatever means she had to raise money. With only three slaves left to wait on her, life was looking increasingly grim.

Feeling weary, she decided to retire. Leaning heavily on the marble banister, she went up the stairs slowly. Her head was spinning from the wine. She staggered along the upper corridor and entered her bedchamber.

Didymas was tying back the thin netting over her sleeping couch. Julia saw the stiffening in her shoulders as she entered the room. She had whipped her two days ago for shirking her duties.

“Did you wash the floor as I told you to do?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And put fresh linens on the couch?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Julia was annoyed by Didymas’ placid tone. She saw no evidence of animosity in the girl’s shuttered expression, but she sensed it. She needed to be put in her place. Julia looked around the room, searching for something to criticize. “There are no flowers in the vases.”

“The vendor wanted two sesterces for lilies, my lady. You only gave me one.”

“You should’ve bargained with him!”

“I did, my lady. He had many customers and wouldn’t come down in price.”

Julia’s face reddened in shame. Many customers. And every one of them had more money than she. “The room is depressing without flowers.”

Didymas said nothing, and her servile silence depressed Julia even more. The servants her family had owned in Rome had always served with warmth and affection. They had never been coldly withdrawn, holding grudges when they were properly and rightly disciplined. She remembered some had even laughed as they went about their duties.

She thought of Hadassah. Swaying, Julia grasped the doorjamb, leaning heavily into it. She didn’t want to think about Hadassah. The decline of her own life had begun with that wretched girl. If not for her, nothing would be as it was.

Blinking back tears, she looked at Didymas’ expressionless face. The slave girl stood where she was. She would do nothing to help until commanded to do so. Somewhere in the defenseless recesses of Julia’s mind, a betraying realization came. Hadassah wouldn’t have waited. She wouldn’t have stood staring at nothing, face stony, her entire being silently screaming her animosity. Hadassah would have come to her and put her arms around her.

Julia looked at the rich trappings of the room and felt its barrenness. She didn’t want to enter it. “I’m going out today,” she said flatly.

Didymas stood silent, waiting.

Julia glared at her. “Don’t just stand there! Lay out my blue palus and bring me a basin of warm water.”