Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
Julia’s mother had taught her about the Divine Cleopatra. Her father had taught her latrones .
She rested her chin on her hands and stared at the latrones board that stood in her bedchamber. It had been her father’s, made of Luna marble and porphyry. Game of brigands. Game of soldiers. Before she knew it, she was moving the stones through the patterns, lightning fast. Her hands remembered.
She shut her eyes tight. The thought of her father in the basilica nearly undid her. It led to thoughts of her mother, who had died in childbirth seven years ago; the child had died too, strangled by its own cord. Ripped from the gory mess between the empress’s thighs.
She had been fourteen. Not long after, her father had told her she must give up childish things. She must stop playing latrones in particular, because Honorius had no mind for the game. How would his generals respect an emperor who could be beaten in games of strategy by his own sister? So he had sent her to Capri to prepare for her purpose in life—to marry for the good of the Empire, and produce children. Later she’d discovered it had been at Olympius’s urging.
The betrothals had come. But they had never lasted. At fifteen, Julia was engaged to a rising general. At sixteen, to a foreign king. Her prospective husbands were killed on the battlefield, or thrown from horses, or choked on chicken bones. Or the alliances simply shifted.
In his neglect, her father had given her freedom to choose her tutors, and so she had summoned the best Greek and Alexandrian scholars, just as Cleopatra had. She’d studied diplomacy and city planning and literature, philosophy, agriculture, and engineering. If she could make her father remember she had a mind that he’d once been proud of, perhaps he would restore her place in the family.
For years, Julia had thrown herself into ruling the tiny fiefdom of her villa. She had repaired the irrigation; changed the cycle of planting to get better use of the earth. She’d even overseen the construction of a small aqueduct across the property, to supply the nearby village.
The aqueduct had been her pride. When she’d shown it to her father, he had patted her head gently. “You are growing into a beauty. That pleases me more than any aqueduct.” She had been seventeen.
It turned out he hadn’t been proud of her skill at latrones , exactly. He had found it amusing. Like a dog doing tricks.
So she’d sent her tutors away and found refuge in hedonistic pleasure. She’d surrounded herself with new friends, those dedicated to staying up all night and debating until dawn. She had learned how much liquor she could hold and still beat a conceited son of a Senator in a debate. She’d learned the pleasures of pharmaceuticals from Egypt. What life was there but the life of today, when tomorrow she might be married off to some inconsequential husband and then die in childbirth, as her mother had?
It had been the parties that made life bearable. And now Honorius would sell her to a man who would rob her even of this. Imprison her in some joyless villa until she was pregnant, and then dead. Julia let the pieces fall. Where was Agathe with the wine?
“Playing latrones , I see. Things seem to have taken a dire turn.” Verina slid into the seat opposite her, black hair in a tower of curls, niece of the general Stilicho and her oldest friend.
“Verina, what are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d find you later. Don’t you remember?” Verina cast a sanguine glance over her tired eyes, her hair coming loose from its rather modest braided coiffure. “You look terrible, darling.”
“I feel terrible.” Tears prickled behind her eyes. “He could have married me to anyone else. Anyone. Some small-minded foreign prince or a portly general who smells of sour wine. Instead he chooses to marry me to—to—”
“Are you betrothed already?” Verina’s eyes widened. “You must tell me everything.”
Somehow Julia managed to recount the story of her betrothal to Olympius without vomiting. But when she was finished,
Verina only laughed. “Oh, Julia! I never thought I’d hear you speak as though you expected to love your husband.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Everyone knows you don’t fall in love with your spouse.” Love made one easily ruined and easily led. She was not that stupid.
“Do you remember what you told me last year, when I wept on that couch about marrying Septimus? You said no husband would stop us from drinking too much and debating with philosophers and shocking the world.”
Julia smiled through her tears. “Husbands for children, lovers for amusement—”
“And each other for everything else.” They spoke the last part together, like an oath. “This isn’t the end, Julia. Olympius has so many villas that you can always take up residence where he isn’t. You’ll barely see him once you give him an heir.”
An heir. Suddenly she felt nauseous. “Verina, I can’t.”
Verina took both her hands. “Then you know what to do.”
“Get my own army.” Her brother’s advice. Impossible.
“No, that is a horrible idea.” Verina looked scandalized. “I mean play their game . Be soft and sweet and make him happy. In a few years—”
“Stop saying years .” Panic choked her throat. “I won’t last a month.”
“You must . If you think Honorius won’t send you to Pandateria—”
“I know he will. And you should be on your guard too. Honorius thinks you’re a bad influence.” Julia drew a shaking breath. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Verina.”
“I’m Stilicho’s niece, in case you forgot.” Verina waved a hand airily. “The emperor only rules at the pleasure of the army. And the army is loyal to Stilicho, which means your brother cannot touch us. No matter how they vex each other.”
Julia tried to imagine the unflappable Stilicho vexed . He could have an attack of the bowels at his own triumph with no one the wiser. “What is your uncle like angry?”
“A little muscle twitches, just here.” Verina tapped a spot below her left eye. “It’s been doing that rather a lot since this morning.”
“What happened this morning?”
“You don’t know ?” Verina’s eyes widened. “Alaric of the Goths arrived. He’s here now .”
“Oh. That. ” Julia sighed. “Honorius told me. If you ask me, inviting that man into our city is rather a stupid idea.”
“Except this time he’s fighting for us, if my uncle can persuade him.” A pleased smile curved Verina’s lips. “Stilicho redeployed the guards to keep an eye on the Goths camped outside. Everyone is afraid of Alaric. It makes him doubly intriguing.” Her smile turned wicked. “There’ll be a banquet. Perhaps we could interest him in a party after the party.”
“Some Gothic barbarian with his rough hands? Never. ” The very thought had her reaching for her wineglass, despite having long since emptied it. “Besides, he’s a traitor and a war criminal.” She stopped, her glass half raised to her lips. An idea suddenly pounding in her head in time with the headache.
Get your own army.
“Julia?” Verina watched her carefully. “That look on your face worries me.”
It would probably be healthier for her friend not to know what she was thinking.
“I’m afraid my headache is getting the better of me,” she murmured. “Let us meet again tomorrow, Verina.”