Colleen McCullough - 1. First Man in Rome

They were married in April, on a perfect spring day, with every omen auspicious; even Gaius Julius Caesar seemed better. Rutilia wept and Marcia wept, the one because this was the first of her children to enter the married state, the other because this was the last of her children to do so. Julia and Julilla were there, as was Sextus's wife, Claudia, but none of their husbands were; Marius and Sulla were still in Africa, and Sextus Caesar was recruiting in Italy, unable to get leave from the consul Gnaeus Mallius Maximus. Cotta had wanted to rent a house on the Palatine for the young couple for their first month together. "Get used to being married first, then get used to living in the Subura," he said, most concerned for his only girl. But the young couple resolutely refused, so the wedding walk was a very long one, and the bride was cheered by or so it seemed -the whole of the Subura. Young Caesar was profoundly glad the veil hid his bride's face, but took his own share of the casually obscene raillery in excellent part, smiling and bowing as they walked. "It's our new neighborhood, we'd best learn to get on with them," he said. "Just close your ears." "I'd rather you steered clear of them," muttered Cotta, who had wanted to hire gladiators to escort the bridal party; the teeming masses and the crime rate worried him sick, as did the language. By the time they reached Aurelia's insula they had quite a gathering tacked on behind, hopeful it seemed that there would be plenty of wine at the end of the road, and determined to invade the festivities. However, when young Caesar got the big door unlocked and swung his new wife off her feet to carry her across the threshold, Cotta, Lucius Cotta, and the two Gauls managed to keep the throng at bay for long enough for young Caesar to get inside and slam the door. Amid howls of protest, Cotta marched away down the Vicus Patricii with his head up. Only Cardixa was present inside the apartment; Aurelia had decided to use her leftover dowry money to buy household servants, but had postponed this duty until after her marriage, for she wanted to do it all by herself, not suffer the presence and advice of her mother or her mother-in-law. Young Caesar too had servants to buy the steward, the wine steward, his secretary, a clerk, and a valet but Aurelia had more: two heavy-duty cleaning maids, a laundress, a cook and assistant cook, two general-purpose servants, and a strong man. Not a large household by any means, but adequate. It was growing dark outside, but the apartment was far darker, something the high noon of their only previous visit had not indicated. Light percolating down the nine floors of the central well dimmed early, as did light coming in from the street, a defile of tall insulae. Cardixa had lit what lamps they had, but they were far too few to banish black corners; she herself had retired to her little room, to leave the newlyweds decently alone. The noise was what amazed Aurelia. It came from everywhere the street outside, the stairwell leading to the upper floors, the central light-well even the ground seemed to rumble. Cries, curses, crashes, shouted conversations, screamed altercations and vituperations, babies crying, children wailing, men and women hawking and spitting, a band of musicians banging away at drums and cymbals, snatches of song, oxen bellowing, sheep bleating, mules and asses wheezing, carts endlessly trundling, howls of laughter. "Oh, we won't be able to hear ourselves think!" she said, blinking away sudden tears. "Gaius Julius, I'm so sorry! I never thought of the noise!" Young Caesar was wise enough and sensitive enough to know that a part at least of this uncharacteristic outburst was due not to the noise, but to an unacknowledged nervousness brought on by the hectic events of the past few days, the sheer strain of getting married. He had felt it himself; how much greater then must it be for his new little wife? So he laughed cheerfully and said, "We'll get used to it, never fear. I guarantee that in a month we won't even notice it. Besides, it's bound to be less in our bedroom." And he took her by the hand, feeling it tremble. Sure enough, the master's sleeping cubicle, reached through his study, was quieter. It was also pitch-black and utterly airless unless the door to the study was left open, for it had been given a false ceiling for storage purposes. Leaving Aurelia standing in the study, young Caesar went and fetched a lamp from the reception room. Hand in hand, they entered the cubicle, and stood enchanted. Cardixa had decked it out in flowers, strewn scented petals all over the double sleeping couch, and stood every height of vase along the walls, then stuffed them with roses, stocks, violets; on a table reposed a flagon of wine, one of water, two golden cups, and a big plate of honey cakes. Neither of them was shy. Being Romans, they were properly enlightened about sexual matters, yet modest. Every Roman who could afford it preferred privacy for intimate activities, especially if the body was to be bared; yet they were not inhibited. Of course young Caesar had had his share of adventures, though his face belied his nature; the one was strikingly noticeable, the other quietly inconspicuous. For with all his undeniable gifts, young Caesar was basically a retiring man, lacking the push and shove of an aggressive and political personality; a man others could rely upon, but who was more likely to advance their careers than his own. Publius Rutilius Rufus's instincts had been exactly right. Young Caesar and Aurelia fitted together beautifully. He was tender, considerate, respectful, warmly loving rather than full of fire; perhaps had he burned with passion, she might have kindled from him, but that neither of them would ever know. Their lovemaking was delicate in its touch, soft in its kisses, slow in its pace. It satisfied them; it even inspired them. And Aurelia was able to tell herself that she had surely earned the unqualified approval of Cornelia the Mother of the Gracchi, for she had done her duty exactly as Cornelia the Mother of the Gracchi must have done hers, with a pleasure and contentment that guaranteed the act itself would never rule her life or dictate her conduct outside the marriage bed yet also guaranteed that she would never come to dislike the marriage bed.

3

During the winter which Quintus Servilius Caepio spent in Narbo grieving for his lost gold, he received a letter from the brilliant young advocate Marcus Livius Drusus, one of Aurelia's most ardent and most disappointed suitors.

I was but nineteen when my father the censor died, and left me to inherit not only all his property, but also the position of paterfamilias. Perhaps luckily, my only onerous burden was my thirteen-year-old sister, deprived as she was of both father and mother. At the time, my mother, Cornelia, asked to take my sister into her household, but of course I declined. Though there was never any divorce, you are I know aware of the coolness between my parents that came to a head when my father agreed that my young brother should be adopted out. My mother was always far fonder of him than of me, so when my brother became Mamercus Aemilius Lepidus Livianus, she pleaded his young age as an excuse, and went with him to his new household, where indeed she found a kind of life far freer and more licentious than ever she could have lived under my father's roof. I refresh your memory about these things as a point of honor, for I feel my honor touched by my mother's shabby and selfish behavior. I have, I flatter myself, brought up my sister, Livia Drusa, as befits her great position. She is now eighteen years old, and ready for marriage. As, Quintus Servilius, am I, even at my young age of twenty-three. I know it is more customary to wait until after twenty-five to marry, and I know there are many who prefer to wait until after they enter the Senate. But I cannot. I am the paterfamilias, and the only male Livius Drusus of my generation. My brother, Mamercus Aemilius Lepidus Livianus, can no longer claim the Livius Drusus name or any share of the Livius Drusus fortune. Therefore it behooves me to marry and procreate, though I decided at the time of my father's death that I would wait until my sister was old enough to marry.