Colleen McCullough - 4. Caesar's Women

The marriage between Pompey the Great and Caesar's daughter took place the next day in the temple atrium of the Domus Publica. Because it was an unlucky time for weddings Caesar offered for his daughter everywhere he could think might help her, while his mother had gone the rounds of female deities making offerings too. Though it had long gone out of fashion to marry confarreatio, even among patricians, when Caesar suggested to Pompey that this union be confarreatio, Pompey agreed eagerly. "I don't insist, Magnus, but I would like it." "Oh, so would I! This is the last time for me, Caesar." "I hope so. Divorce from a confarreatio marriage is well nigh impossible." "There won't be any divorce," Pompey said confidently. Julia wore the wedding clothes her grandmother had woven herself for her own wedding forty six years before, and thought them finer and softer than anything to be bought in the Street of the Weavers. Her hair thick, fine, straight and so long she could sit on it was divided into six locks and pinned up beneath a tiara identical to those worn by the Vestal Virgins, of seven rolled woolen sausages. The gown was saffron, the shoes and fine veil of vivid flame. Both bride and groom had to produce ten witnesses, a difficulty when the ceremony was supposed to be secret. Pompey solved his dilemma by enlisting ten Picentine clients visiting the city, and Caesar by drafting Cardixa, Burgundus, Eutychus (all Roman citizens for many years), and the six Vestal Virgins. Because the rite was confarreatio a special seat had to be made by joining two separate chairs and covering them with a sheepskin; both the flamen Dialis and the Pontifex Maximus had to be present, not a trouble because Caesar was Pontifex Maximus and had been flamen Dialis (none other could exist until after his death). Aurelia, who was Caesar's tenth witness, acted as the pronuba, the matron of honor. When Pompey arrived dressed in his gold embroidered purple triumphal toga, the palm embroidered triumphal tunic beneath it, the little group sighed sentimentally and escorted him to the sheepskin seat, where Julia already sat, face hidden by her veil. Ensconced beside her, Pompey suffered the folds of an enormous flame colored veil now draped by Caesar and Aurelia across both their heads; Aurelia took their right hands and bound them together with a flame colored leather strap, which was the actual joining. From that moment they were married. But one of the sacred cakes made from spelt had to be broken, eaten half by bride and half by groom, while the witnesses solemnly testified that all was in order, they were now man and wife. After which Caesar sacrificed a pig on the altar and dedicated all of its succulent parts to Jupiter Farreus, who was that aspect of Jupiter responsible for the fruitful growth of the oldest wheat, emmer, and thereby, since the marriage cake of spelt had been made from emmer, also that aspect of Jupiter responsible for fruitful marriages. To offer all of the beast would please the God, take away the bad luck of marrying in May. Never had priest or father worked as hard as Caesar did to dispel the omens of marriage in May. The feast was merry, the little group of guests happy because the happiness of bride and groom was so obvious; Pompey beamed, wouldn't let his Julia's hand go. Then they walked from the Domus Publica to Pompey's vast and dazzling house on the Carinae, Pompey hurrying ahead to make all ready while three small boys escorted Julia and the wedding guests. And there was Pompey waiting on the threshold to carry his new wife across it; inside were the pans of fire and water to which he led her, watched as she passed her right hand through the flames, then through the water, and was unharmed. She was now the mistress of the house, commander of its fire and water. Aurelia and Cardixa, each married only once, took her to the bedchamber, undressed her and put her into the bed. After the two old women left, the room was very quiet; Julia sat up in the bed and linked her hands around her knees, a curtain of hair falling forward to hide either side of her face. This was no sleeping cubicle! It was bigger than the Domus Publica dining room. And so very grand! Hardly a surface was untouched by gilt, the color scheme was red and black, the wall paintings a series of panels depicting various Gods and heroes in sexual mode. There was Hercules (who needed to be strong to carry the weight of his erect penis) with Queen Omphale; Theseus with Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons (though she had two breasts); Peleus with the sea goddess Thetis (he was making love to a female bottom half topped by a cuttlefish); Zeus assaulting a distressed looking cow (Io); Venus and Mars colliding like warships; Apollo about to enter a tree with a knot resembling female parts (Daphne?). Aurelia was too strict to have permitted such pictorial activity in her house, but Julia, a young woman of Rome, was neither unfamiliar with nor dismayed by this erotic decor. In some of the houses she visited, erotica was by no means limited to bedrooms. As a child it used to make her giggle, then later it became quite impossible to relate in any way to her and Brutus; being virgin, such art interested and intrigued her without having genuine reality. Pompey entered the room in tunica palmata, his feet bare. "How are you?" he asked anxiously, approaching the bed as warily as a dog a cat. "Very well," Julia said gravely. "Urn is everything all right?" "Oh, yes. I was just admiring the pictures." He blushed, waved his hands about. "Didn't have time to do anything about it. Sorry," he muttered. "I don't honestly mind." "Mucia liked them." He sat down on his side of the bed. "Do you have to redecorate your bedroom every time you change wives?" she asked, smiling. That seemed to reassure him, for he smiled back. "It's wise. Women like to put their own touch on things." "So shall I." She reached out her hand. "Don't be nervous, Gnaeus do I call you Gnaeus?" The hand was clasped tightly. "I like Magnus better." Her fingers moved in his. "I like it too." She turned a little toward him. "Why are you nervous?" "Because everyone else was just a woman," he said, pushing the other hand through his hair. "You're a goddess." To which she made no reply, too filled with first awareness of power; she had just married a very great and famous Roman, and he was afraid of her. That was very reassuring. And very nice. Anticipation began to work in her deliciously, so she lay back upon the pillows and did nothing more than look at him. Which meant he had to do something. Oh, this was so important! Caesar's daughter, directly descended from Venus. How had King Anchises managed when Love manifested herself before him and said he pleased her? Had he trembled like a leaf too? Had he wondered if he was up to the task? But then he remembered Diana walking into the room, and forgot about Venus. Still trembling, he leaned over and pulled the tapestry cover back, the linen sheet below it. And looked at her, white as marble faintly veined with blue, slender limbs and hips, little waist. How beautiful! "I love you, Magnus," she said in that husky voice he found so attractive, "but I'm too thin! I'll disappoint you." "Disappoint?" Pompey stared now at her face, his own terror of disappointing her vanishing. So vulnerable. So young! Well, she would see the quality of his disappointment. The outside of one thigh was nearest; he put his lips to it, felt her skin leap and shudder, the touch of her hand in his hair. Eyes closed, he laid his cheek against her flank and inched himself fully onto the bed. A goddess, a goddess ... He would kiss every bit of her with reverence, with a delight almost unbearable, this unstained flower, this perfect jewel. The silver tresses were everywhere, hiding her breasts. Tendril by tendril he picked them off, lay them down around her and gazed, ravished, at smooth little nipples so pale a pink that they fused into her skin. "Oh, Julia, Julia, I love you!" he cried. "My goddess, Diana of the moon, Diana of the night!" Time enough to deal with virginity. Today she should know nothing save pleasure. Yes, pleasure first, all the pleasure he could give her from lips and mouth and tongue, from hands and his own skin. Let her know what marriage to Pompey the Great would always bring her, pleasure and pleasure and pleasure.