“So you memorize his speeches and set his poems to music.”
“And now, Martial’s as well. I was touched by his poem, weren’t you? I hope he’ll like what I’ve done with it. I confess, he frightens me a little.”
“Indeed, that man is a study in contradictions. But you, at any rate, are a good wife and a shrewd woman as well. If only Rome had more like you than of the other sort. Still, you must be bored sometimes and lonely.”
Calpurnia sighed. “The hours pass somehow. I read all sorts of things, Gaius likes me to be well-informed. What else is a wife to do after all, especially one in my condition? Tell me all about your home. Of course, I’ve read Caesar’s Commentaries, but I suppose Gaul is very peaceful now.”
“Yes, well…” Amatia began.
“Oh!” Calpurnia touched her abdomen. “He just kicked. Do you want to feel?”
Amatia put out her hand. “I do feel it! He’ll be a strong boy.”
“I sacrifice everyday to Juno Lucina that he will. Sometimes I’m so afraid. My husband wants a son so badly. Soranus, my obstetrician, says I have the pica. I have vomiting, dizziness, headache. I must eat only soft-boiled eggs and porridge. And twice a day old Helen massages my abdomen with myrtle and oil of roses. Everything is forbidden to me—excitement, travel, crowds, and now even love-making.”
“Poor Calpurnia. We’re a fine pair of invalids. My births were all easy, thank the gods, but this hysteria that afflicts me now—that is something else.”
“And you believe Queen Isis will truly heal you? I know almost nothing about that cult. My husband doesn’t approve.”
“Indeed, I do not.” Pliny emerged from the tablinum, where he had spent the morning trying, without success, to draft a memorandum to the city prefect. “I have nothing against the goddess, mind you, but her rites are far too stimulating for Calpurnia in her present state. Waving those rattles around, dancing. Of course, if you want to go to the temple yourself, Amatia, my litter is at your disposal.”
The woman smiled up at him. “Alas, there is no point until I receive my dream and my money. I pray for the time to be short. My dear,” she turned back to Calpurnia, “do you know how to spin wool?”
The girl shook her head, her mother had died when she was a baby, no one had ever…
“I will teach you, just as I did my daughters. Pliny, be good enough to ask a slave to fetch wool and a distaff and spindle. You know, my dear, how it says on the tombstones of wives from the old republican times ‘lanam fecit—she made wool?’ In those days they really did. It was the highest praise a woman could receive. I find it calms the mind. So will you, my dear.”
Pliny beamed. He suddenly felt a great tenderness toward his young wife, and great gratitude toward Amatia. In just four days she seemed to have blended imperceptibly into the life of his family. She was, like himself, a provincial who valued the old Roman traditions as few Romans of the City did. And Calpurnia clearly loved her. It bothered him a bit that a woman of such obvious good sense would want to involve herself with those Isiac charlatans, but he supposed illness makes cowards of us all. Still, he felt that if Calpurnia had a sudden emergency, he could count on Amatia to keep a level head and know what to do. He was sorry, in fact, that she must eventually leave them.
The bunch of wool was brought and teased apart, with Calpurnia’s white kitten leaping up to catch the strands. Pliny turned reluctantly back to his office, leaving the two women, with their heads together, laughing.
That night Martial joined them again for dinner. He was amusing, entertaining, teasingly flirtatious with the women. He evaded Pliny’s questions about where he had been yesterday. While they waited for the first course to be served, he studied Amatia, who as usual shared a couch with Calpurnia. Who was this serene, attractive woman? What was he supposed to notice about her? He told himself that he was merely satisfying his own curiosity. “You’re from Gaul, madam? A part of the Empire I’m happy to say I’ve never visited. Do they still wear long hair and paint themselves blue?” Fishing for information.
She laughed pleasantly. “‘Long-haired Gaul’ is a thing of the past. We’re reasonably civilized these days. Lugdunum is a good sized city nowadays. My father was a land-owner. My husband was a merchant. He died some years ago and left me well provided for. I live with my eldest daughter and her husband. But it is a rather dull place, I admit. No society that would interest a man of the world like you.”
“Well, in that case, seeing as you’re in Rome during the Games you should take the opportunity to see some plays. It would be my pleasure to accompany you if you don’t object to being seen with such a notorious fellow as myself.” He favored her with his toothiest smile.