Colleen McCullough - 3. Fortune's Favorites

After some thought, Sertorius decided to ride from Capua toward the Campanian coast, where the pretty little town of Sinuessa Aurunca might just be ripe for a declaration against Sulla. The roads everywhere in Campania were free enough from trouble; Sulla had not attempted any blockades aside from a formal investment of Neapolis. No doubt he would shortly put a force outside Capua to keep Norbanus in, but there had been no sign of it when Sertorius visited. Even so, Sertorius felt it advisable to stay off the main roads. He liked the sensation of a fugitive existence; it carried an extra dimension of real life with it, and reminded him slightly of the days when he had posed as a Celtiberian warrior of some outlandish tribe in order to go spying among the Germans. Ah, that had been the life! No chinless wonders of Roman aristocrats to placate and defer to! Constant action, women who knew their place. He had even had a German wife, sired a son by her without once ever feeling that she or the boy hampered him. They lived in Nearer Spain now, up in the mountain stronghold of Osca, and the boy would be how time flew! almost a man. Not that Quintus Sertorius missed them, or hankered to set eyes upon this only child. What he missed was the life. The freedom, the sole ruling excellence, which was how a man acquitted himself as a warrior. Yes, those were the days.... As was his invariable habit, he traveled without any kind of escort, even a slave; like his cousin, dear old Gaius Marius, he believed that a soldier ought to be able to care for himself completely. Of course his kit was back in Scipio Asiagenus's camp and he would not go back for it or would he? Come to think of it, there were a few items he would sorely miss: the sword he normally used, a shirt of chain mail he had picked up in Further Gaul of a lightness and workmanship no smith in Italy could match, his winter boots from Liguria. Yes, he would go back. Some days would elapse before Scipio would fall. So he turned his horse around and headed back toward the northeast, intending to swing beyond Sulla's camp on its far side. And discovered that some distance in his rear a small party was proceeding along the rutted track. Four men and three women. Oh, women! Almost he reversed direction once more, then resolved to pick up speed and hasten by them. After all, they were heading seaward, he was now going back toward the mountains. But as they loomed larger he frowned. Surely the man in their lead was familiar? A veritable giant, flaxen haired and massive of thews, just like thousands more German men he had known Burgundus! Ye gods, it was! Burgundus! And behind him rode Lucius Decumius and his two sons! Burgundus had recognized him; each man kicked his horse in the ribs and rode to a meeting, with little Lucius Decumius flogging his beast to catch up. Trust Lucius Decumius not to miss a word of any conversation! "What on earth are you doing here?" Sertorius asked after the handshakes and the backslappings were over. "We're lost, that's what we're doing here," said Lucius Decumius, glaring at Burgundus balefully. "That heap of German rubbish swore he knew the way! But do he? No, he do not!" Years of exposure to Lucius Decumius's never ending spate of (quite well meant) insults had inured Burgundus to them, so he bore them now with his usual patience, merely eyeing the small Roman the way a bull eyed a gnat. "We're trying to find the lands of Quintus Pedius," said Burgundus in his slow Latin, smiling at Sertorius with a liking he felt for few men. "The lady Aurelia is going to fetch her daughter to Rome." And there she was, plodding along upon a stout mule and sitting absolutely straight, not a hair out of place nor a single smear of dust upon her fawn traveling robe. With her was her huge Gallic serving maid, Cardixa, and another female servant Sertorius did not know. "Quintus Sertorius," she said, joining them and somehow assuming command. Now she was a woman! Sertorius had said to Norbanus that he prized only one of the breed, his mother, but he had quite forgotten Aurelia. How she managed to be beautiful as well as sensible he didn't know; what he did know was that she was the only woman in the entire world who was both. Added to which, she was as honorable as any man, she didn't lie, she didn't moan or complain, she worked hard, and she minded her own business. They were almost exactly the same age forty and had known each other since Aurelia had married Gaius Julius Caesar over twenty years earlier. "Have you seen my mother?" Sertorius asked as she prodded her mule to lead them slightly apart from the rest of her party. "Not since last year's ludi Romani, so you would have seen her yourself since I have. But she'll be down to stay with us again this year for the games. It's become a regular habit." "Old horror, she never will stay in my house," he said. "She's lonely, Quintus Sertorius, and your house is such a lonely place. If she stays with us she's in the midst of a bustle, and she likes that. I don't say she'd like it for longer than the games last, but it's good for her once a year." Satisfied on the subject of his mother, whom he loved very much, he turned his mind to the present predicament. "Are you really lost?" he asked. Aurelia nodded, sighed. "I fear we are. Wait until my son hears about it! He'll never let me live it down. But he cannot leave Rome, being flamen Dialis, so I had to trust in Burgundus." She looked rueful. "Cardixa says he can lose himself between the Forum and the Subura, but I confess I thought she was being pessimistic. Now I see she didn't exaggerate in the slightest!" "And Lucius Decumius and his boys are useless too." "Outside the city walls, completely. However," she said loyally, "I could not ask for more caring and protective escorts, and now that we've met you, I'm sure we'll arrive at Quintus Pedius's in no time." "Not quite in no time, but certainly I can put you on your way." His one good eye studied her thoughtfully. "Come to fetch your chick home, Aurelia?" She flushed. "Not exactly. Quintus Pedius wrote to me and asked me to come. Apparently both Scipio and Sulla are camped on the borders of his land, and he felt Lia would be safer elsewhere. But she refused to leave!" "A typical Caesar," said Sertorius, smiling. "Stubborn." "How right you are! It really ought to have been her brother come when he tells them to do this or do that, both his sisters jump! But Quintus Pedius seems to think I will do. My job is not so much to fetch my chick home, as to persuade my chick to come home." "You'll succeed. The Caesars may be stubborn, but it isn't from the Caesars that your son gets his air of command. That he gets from you, Aurelia," said Sertorius. He looked suddenly brisk. "You'll understand when I tell you that I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'm going your way for a part of your journey, but I won't be able to escort you to Quintus Pedius's door, unfortunately. For that you'll have to apply to Sulla. He's camped squarely between where we are at the moment and Quintus Pedius's door." "Whereas you are on your way to Scipio," she said, nodding. "I wasn't," he said frankly, "until I realized I had too much gear back in his camp that I didn't want to part with." The large purple eyes surveyed him tranquilly. "Oh, I see! Scipio doesn't meet the test." "Did you think he could?" "No, never." A small silence fell; they were riding now back the way both had come, and the rest of Aurelia's party had fallen in behind them without a word. "What will you do, Quintus Sertorius?" "Make as much trouble for Sulla as I can. In Sinuessa, I think. But after I fetch my gear from Scipio's camp." He cleared his throat. "I can take you all the way to Sulla. He'd never try to detain me if I came on business like this." No, just take us as far as some spot from which we can find his camp without getting lost." Aurelia heaved a small and pleasurable sigh. "How nice it will be to see Lucius Cornelius again! It is four years since he was last in Rome. He always visited me just after he arrived, and just before he left. A kind of tradition. Now I have to break it, and all because of one stubborn daughter. Still, it doesn't matter. The important thing is that Lucius Cornelius and I will set eyes upon each other again. I have missed his visits dreadfully." Almost Sertorius opened his mouth to warn her, but in the end he didn't. What he knew about Sulla's condition was hearsay, and what he knew about Aurelia was hard fact. She would prefer to make her own discoveries, of that he was sure. So when the earth and timber ramparts of Sulla's camp began to trace lines across the rolling Campanian horizon, Quintus Sertorius bade his cousin in law a grave goodbye, geed up his horse and departed. A new road led across the fields toward the ramparts, worn already by a ceaseless progress of supply carts and shod hooves; there could be no excuse for getting lost. "We must have passed right by it," said Lucius Decumius, scowling. "Hid from view by the size of your arse, Burgundus!" "Now, now," said Aurelia calmly, "stop quarreling, do!" And that was the end of the conversation. An hour later the little band of riders paused before the gate while Lucius Decumius demanded to see the general, then entered a world very strange and new to Aurelia, who had never been anywhere near an army camp in her entire life. Many were the glances she received as they paced down the broad high street which led as straight as a spear shaft toward the tiny aperture of another gate in the far distance. Perhaps three miles lay between, she realized, amazed. Halfway along the Via Principalis there reared the only piece of raised ground within the camp; an obviously artificial knoll upon which stood a large stone house. The big red general's flag was flying to indicate that the general was in, and the red haired duty officer seated at his table under an awning stood up awkwardly when he saw that the general's visitor was a woman. Lucius Decumius, his sons, Burgundus, Cardixa and the other female servant remained by the horses as Aurelia walked sedately up the path toward the duty officer and the sentries who flanked him. Because she was completely wrapped in voluminous fine fawn wool, all young Marcus Valerius Messala Rufus the duty officer could see was her face. But that, he thought, catching his breath, was quite enough. As old as his mother, yet the most beautiful woman! Helen of Troy hadn't been young either. For the years had not dimmed Aurelia's magic; she still turned all heads whenever she appeared outside her own apartment. "I would like to see Lucius Cornelius Sulla, please." Messala Rufus neither asked for her name nor thought to warn Sulla of her advent; he simply bowed to her and gestured with his hand toward the open door. Aurelia entered, smiling her thanks. Though the shutters were wide to let in air, the room was shadow filled, especially in the far corner where a man was bent over his desk writing busily by the light of a big lamp. Her voice could be no one else's: "Lucius Cornelius?" Something happened. The bowed shoulders stiffened, hunched up as if to ward off some frightful blow, and the pen and paper skittled across the surface of the table, so violently were they thrust away. But after that he sat without moving, back to her. She advanced a few paces. "Lucius Cornelius?" Still nothing, but her eyes were becoming used to the gloom and took in the sight of a head of hair which did not belong to Lucius Cornelius Sulla. Little ginger red curls, quite ridiculous. Then he heaved himself around as if convulsing, and she knew it was Lucius Cornelius Sulla only because he looked at her out of Lucius Cornelius Sulla's eyes. Unmistakably his eyes. Ye gods, how could I do this to him? But I didn't know! If I had known, a siege tower could not have dragged me here! What is my face saying? What does he see in my expression? "Oh, Lucius Cornelius, how good to see you!" she said in exactly the right tones, covered the rest of the distance to his desk, and kissed him on both poor scarred cheeks. Then she sat down on a folding chair close by, tucked her hands in her lap, gave him an unselfconscious smile, and waited. "I didn't intend ever to see you again, Aurelia," he said, not taking his eyes from hers. "Couldn't you wait until I got to Rome? This is a departure from our normal habit I didn't expect." "Rome seems to be the hard way for you an army at your back. Or perhaps I sensed this would be the first time you did not come to visit. But no, dear Lucius Cornelius, I'm not here for any guessable reason. I'm here because I'm lost." "Lost?" "Yes. I'm trying to find Quintus Pedius. My silly daughter won't come to Rome and Quintus Pedius he's her second husband, which you won't know doesn't want her anywhere near two firmly encamped armies." It came out quite cheerfully and convincingly, she thought. It ought to reassure him. But he was Sulla, so he said, "Gave you a shock, didn't I?" She did not attempt to dissemble. "In some ways, yes. The hair, principally. Yours is gone, I presume." "Along with my teeth." He bared his gums like an ape. "Well, we all come to it if we live long enough." "Wouldn't want me to kiss you now the way I did a few years ago, would you?" Aurelia put her head to one side, smiled. "I didn't want you to kiss me that way even then, though I did enjoy it. Far too much for my own peace of mind. How you hated me!" "What did you expect? You turned me down. I don't like women turning me down." "I do remember that!" "I remember the grapes." "So do I." He drew a deep breath, squeezed his eyelids together. "I wish I could weep!" "I am glad you can't, dear friend," she said tenderly. "You wept for me then." "Yes, I did. But I won't weep for you now. That would be to mourn for a vanished reflection gone a long way down the river. You're here. I rejoice at that." He got up at last, an old tired man. A cup of wine?'' "Yes, indeed." He poured, she noticed, from two separate flagons. "You wouldn't like the urine I'm forced to drink these days. As dry and sour as I am." "I'm pretty dry and sour myself, but I won't insist upon tasting your choice if you don't recommend that I do." She took the simple cup he handed her and sipped gratefully. "Thank you, it's good. We've had a long day looking for Quintus Pedius." "What's your husband about, to leave you to do his job? Is he away yet again?" asked Sulla, sitting down with more ease. The luminous eyes grew glassily stern. "I have been a widow for two years, Lucius Cornelius." That astonished him. "Gaius Julius, dead? He was as fit as a boy! Was he killed in battle?" "No. He just died suddenly." "Yet here I am, a thousand years older than Gaius Julius, still hanging on to life." It came out sounding bitter. "You're the October Horse, he was just the middle of the field. A good man, and I liked being married to him. But I never thought him a man who needed to hang on to life," said Aurelia. "Just as well perhaps that he didn't. If I take Rome, it would have gone hard for him. I presume he would have elected to follow Carbo." "He followed Cinna, for Gaius Marius's sake. But Carbo? That I do not know." She changed the subject, growing used now to the way he looked, who had been as beautiful as Apollo. "Is your wife well, Lucius Cornelius?" "When I last heard. She's still in Athens. Gave me twins last year, a boy and a girl." He chuckled. "She's afraid they're going to grow up to look like her Uncle Piggle wiggle." "Oh, poor little things! But that's nice, to have children. Do you ever wonder about your other twins, the boys your German wife had? They'd be young men now." "Young Cherusci! Taking scalps and burning Romans alive in wicker cages." It was going to be all right. He was calmer, less tormented. Of all the fates she had imagined might have been lying in wait for Lucius Cornelius Sulla, the loss of his special and unique attraction had not been among them. And yet he was still Sulla. His wife, she thought, probably loved him just as much as she ever had when he looked like Apollo. For some time they talked on, slipping back through the rolling years as they exchanged information about this one and that one; he, she noticed, liked to talk about his protg, Lucullus, and she, he noticed, liked to talk about her only son, who was now called Caesar. "As I remember, young Caesar was scholarly. Being flamen Dialis ought to suit him," said Sulla. Aurelia hesitated, seemed about to say something, then apparently said a different something: "He has made a tremendous effort to be a good priest, Lucius Cornelius." Frowning, Sulla glanced at the window nearest to him. "I see the sun is westering, that's why it's so dim in here. Time to get you on your way. I'll have some cadets act as guides Quintus Pedius is not far beyond my camp. And you may tell your daughter that if she stays, she's a fool. My men are not ravening beasts, but if she's a true Julia she'll be a sore temptation, and one cannot forbid the troops to drink wine when they're in a permanent camp in Campania. Take her to Rome at once. I'll provide an escort for you as far as Ferentinum on the day after tomorrow. That will see you safely out of the clutches of both the armies encamped hereabouts." She rose. "I have Burgundus and Lucius Decumius, and dear Lucius Decumius's sons as well. But I would appreciate an escort if you can truly spare the men. Is there no battle imminent between you and Scipio?" Oh, how sad, never to see that wonderful Sullan smile again! The best he could do these days was a grunt that didn't disturb the scabs and scars of his face. "That idiot? No, I don't foresee a battle," he said, standing in his doorway. He gave her a little push. "Now go, Aurelia. And don't expect me to visit you in Rome." Off she went to join her waiting escort, while Sulla began to issue instructions to Messala Rufus. And in no time, it seemed, they were riding down the Via Praetoria toward yet another one of the four gates into Sulla's enormous camp. One look at her face had not encouraged any of her companions to speak to her, so Aurelia was accorded the much needed peace of finishing her journey inside her own thoughts. I have always liked him, even though he became our enemy. Even though he is not a good person. My husband was a genuinely good person, and I loved him, and was faithful to him with my mind and my body. Yet I know it now, though I did not until now some little bit of me did I give to Lucius Cornelius Sulla. The bit my husband did not want, would not have known what to do with. We only kissed that once, Lucius Cornelius and I. But it was as beautiful as it was black. A passionate and engulfing mire. I did not yield. But ye gods, how I wanted to! I won a victory of sorts. Yet did I perhaps lose a war? Whenever he walked into my comfortable little world, a gale blew in around him; if he was Apollo, he was also Aeolus, and ruled the winds of my spirit, so that the lyre at my core hummed a melody my husband never, never heard.... Oh, this is worse than the grief of death and utter parting! I have looked upon the wreckage of a dream that was as much mine as his, and he knows it, poor Lucius Cornelius. But what courage! A lesser man would have fallen upon his sword. His pain, his pain! Why am I feeling this? I am busy, practical, unimaginative. My life is sifted out and very satisfying. But now I understand what bit of myself has always belonged to him; the bird bit, that might have lifted in soaring spirals singing its heart out while all the earth below burned away to an unimportant nothing. And no, I am not sorry I kept my feet upon the earth, never soared. It suits the way I am. He and I would never have known a moment's peace. Oh, I bleed for him! I weep for him! And because she rode in front of all save the party of Roman officers, who led the way, her people did not see Aurelia's tears any more than they had seen Lucius Cornelius Sulla, the wreckage of a dream.