Colleen McCullough - 4. Caesar's Women

The volume of laughter and chatter from the study had risen, Caesar noticed as he entered the reception room; he had intended to leave immediately, but on the spur of the moment decided to visit his wife instead. Quite a gathering, he thought, standing unobserved in the doorway from the dining room. Pompeia had completely redecorated the once austere room, which was now overfilled with couches mattressed in goose down, a plethora of purple cushions and coverlets, many precious yet commonplace knick knacks, paintings and statues. What had been an equally austere sleeping cubicle, he noted gazing through its open door, now bore the same cloyingly tasteless touch. Pompeia was reclining on the best couch, though not alone; Aurelia might forbid her to entertain men, but could not prevent visits from Pompeia's full brother, Quintus Pompeius Rufus Junior. Now in his early twenties, he was a wild blade of increasingly unsavory reputation. No doubt it was through his offices that she had come to know ladies of the Claudian clan, for Pompeius Rufus was the best friend of none other than Publius Clodius, three years older but no less wild. Aurelia's ban forbade the presence of Clodius himself, but not of his two younger sisters, Clodia and Clodilla. A pity, thought Caesar clinically, that the undisciplined natures of these two young matrons were fueled by a considerable degree of good looks. Clodia, married to Metellus Celer (the elder of Mucia Tertia's two half brothers) was marginally more beautiful than her younger sister, Clodilla, now divorced from Lucullus amid shock waves of scandal. Like all the Claudii Pulchri they were very dark, with large and luminous black eyes, long and curling black lashes, a profusion of waving black hair, and faintly olive but perfect skins. Despite the fact that neither was tall, both had excellent figures and dress sense, moved with grace. And they were quite well read, again especially Clodia, who had a taste for poetry of high order. They sat side by side on a couch facing Pompeia and her brother, each with her robe falling away from gleaming shoulders to give more than a hint of deliciously shaped plump breasts. Fulvia was not unlike them physically, though her coloring was paler and reminded Caesar of his mother's ice brown hair, purplish eyes, dark brows and lashes. A very positive and dogmatic young lady, imbued with a lot of rather silly ideas stemming from her romantic attachment to the Brothers Gracchi grandfather Gaius and great uncle Tiberius. Her marriage to Publius Clodius had not met with her parents' approval, Caesar knew. Which had not stopped Fulvia, determined to have her way. Since her marriage she had become intimate with Clodius's sisters, to the detriment of all three. None of these young women, however, worried Caesar as much as the two ripe and shady ladies who together occupied a third couch: Sempronia Tuditani, wife of one Decimus Junius Brutus and mother of another (an odd choice of friend for Fulvia the Sempronii Tuditani had been obdurate enemies of both the Gracchi, as had the family of Decimus Junius Brutus Callaicus, grandfather of Sempronia Tuditani's husband); and Palla, who had been wife to both the censor Philippus and the censor Poplicola, and had borne each of them a son. Sempronia Tuditani and Palla had to be fifty years old, though they employed every artifice known to the cosmetics industry to disguise the fact, from painted and powdered complexions to stibium around the eyes and carmine on their cheeks and mouths. Nor had they been content to allow the bodily subsidence of middle age; they starved themselves assiduously to be stick thin, and wore flimsy, floating robes they fancied brought back their long vanished youth. The result of all this tampering with the ageing process, reflected Caesar with an inward grin, was as unsuccessful as it was ludicrous. His own mother, the merciless onlooker decided, was far more attractive, though at least ten years their senior. Aurelia, however, did not court the company of men, whereas Sempronia Tuditani and Palla were aristocratic whores who never lacked for masculine attention because they were famous for giving by far the best fellatio in Rome, including that obtainable from professionals of both sexes. Their presence meant, Caesar concluded, that Decimus Brutus and young Poplicola also frequented the vicinity of Pompeia. Of Decimus Brutus perhaps no more was to be said than that he was young, bored, high spirited and up to the usual mischief, from too much wine and too many women to the dice box and the gaming table. But young Poplicola had seduced his stepmother and tried to murder his father the censor, and had been formally relegated to penury and obscurity. He would never be permitted to enter the Senate, but since Publius Clodius's marriage to Fulvia and Clodius's subsequent access to almost unlimited money, young Poplicola was starting to be seen again in high circles. It was Clodia who noticed Caesar first. She sat up much straighter on her couch, thrust out her breasts and gave him an alluring smile. "Caesar, how absolutely divine to see you!" she purred. "I return the compliment, of course." "Do come in!" said Clodia, patting her couch. "I'd love to, but I'm afraid I'm on my way out." And that, Caesar decided as he let himself out the front door, was a room full of trouble.

* * *

Labienus beckoned, but first he would have to see Servilia, who had probably been waiting in his apartment down the road for some time, he realized. Women! Today was a day of women, and mostly women with nuisance value. Except for Aurelia, of course. Now there was a woman! A pity, thought Caesar, bounding up the stairs to his apartment, that none other measures up to her. Servilia was waiting, though she was far too sensible to reproach Caesar for his tardiness, and far too pragmatic to expect an apology. If the world belonged to men and it did then undoubtedly it was Caesar's oyster. No word was exchanged between them for some time. First came several luxurious and languorous kisses, then a sighing subsidence into each other's arms on the bed, freed from clothing and care. She was so delicious, so intelligent and untrammeled in her ministrations, so inventive. And he was so perfect, so receptive and powerful in his attentions, so unerring. Thus, absolutely content with each other and fascinated by the fact that familiarity had bred not contempt but additional pleasure, Caesar and Servilia forgot their worlds until the level of water in the chronometer had dripped away quite a lot of time. Of Labienus he would not speak; of Pompeia he would, so he said as they lay entwined, My wife is keeping odd company." The memory of those frenzied months of wasted jealousy had not yet faded from Servilia's mind, so she loved to hear any word from Caesar that indicated dissatisfaction. Oh, it was only scant moments after they were reconciled following the birth of Junia Tertia that Servilia understood Caesar's marriage was a sham. Still and all, the minx was delectable, and proximity was her ally; no woman of Servilia's age could rest in perfect surety when her rival was almost twenty years her junior. "Odd company?" she asked, stroking voluptuously. "The Clodias and Fulvia." "That's to be expected, considering the circles Brother Pompeius moves in." "Ah, but today there were additions to the menagerie!" "Who?" "Sempronia Tuditani and Palla." "Oh!" Servilia sat up, the delight of Caesar's skin evaporating. She frowned, thought, then said, "Actually that shouldn't have surprised me." "Nor me, considering who Publius Clodius's friends are." "No, I didn't mean through that connection, Caesar. You know of course that my younger sister, Servililla, has been divorced by Drusus Nero for infidelity." "I had heard." "What you don't know is that she's going to marry Lucullus." Caesar sat up too. "That's to exchange a dunderhead for an imbecile in the making! He conducts all manner of experiments with substances which distort reality, has done for years. I believe one of his freedmen has no duty other than to procure every kind of soporific and ecstatic for him syrup of poppies, mushrooms, brews concocted from leaves, berries, roots." "Servililla says he likes the effect of wine, but dislikes its aftereffects intensely. Those other substances apparently don't produce the same painful aftereffects." Servilia shrugged. "Anyway, it seems Servililla isn't complaining. She thinks she'll get to enjoy all that money and taste without a watchful husband to cramp her style." "He divorced Clodilla for adultery and incest." "That was Clodius's doing." "Well, I wish your sister the best of luck," said Caesar. "Lucullus is still stuck on the Campus Martius demanding the triumph the Senate keeps refusing him, so she won't see much of Rome from the inside of the walls." "He'll get his triumph soon," said Servilia confidently. "My spies tell me that Pompeius Magnus doesn't want to have to share the Campus Martius with his old enemy when he comes home from the East positively covered in glory." She snorted. "Oh, what a poseur! Anyone with any sense can see that Lucullus did all the hard work! Magnus just had to harvest the results of that hard work." "I agree, little though I care for Lucullus." Caesar cupped a hand around one breast. "It is not like you to digress, my love. What has this to do with Pompeia's friends?'' "They call it the Clodius Club," said Servilia, stretching. "Servililla told me all about it. Publius Clodius, of course, is its president. The chief indeed, I suppose one would have to call it the only aim of the Clodius Club is to shock our world. That's how the members entertain themselves. They're all bored, idle, averse to work, and possessed of far too much money. Drinking and wenching and gambling are tame. Shocks and scandals are the Club's sole purpose. Hence raffish women like Sempronia Tuditani and Palla, allegations of incest, and the cultivation of such peerless specimens as young Poplicola. The male members of the Club include some very young men who ought to know better like Curio Junior and your cousin Marcus Antonius. I hear one of their favorite pastimes is to pretend they're lovers." It was Caesar's turn to snort. "I'd believe almost anything of Marcus Antonius, but not that! How old is he now, nineteen or twenty? Yet he's got more bastards littered through every stratum of Roman society than anyone else I know." "Conceded. But littering Rome with bastards isn't nearly shocking enough. A homosexual affair particularly between the sons of such pillars of the conservative establishment! adds a certain luster." "So this is the institution to which my wife belongs!" Caesar sighed. "How am I to wean her away, I wonder?'' That was not an idea which appealed to Servilia, who got out of bed in a hurry. "I fail to see how you can, Caesar, without provoking exactly the kind of scandal the Clodius Club adores. Unless you divorce yourself by divorcing her." But this suggestion offended his sense of fair play; he shook his head emphatically. "No, I'll not do that without more cause than idle friendships she can't turn into anything worse because my mother keeps too sharp an eye on her. I pity the poor girl. She hasn't a scrap of intelligence or sense." The bath beckoned (Caesar had given in and installed a small furnace to provide hot water); Servilia decided to hold her peace on the subject of Pompeia.