Virgin Territory by Marilyn Todd

Linus’s other son, Paulus, was dragging his feet behind them.
    ‘Customary, my arse. Poofs, if you ask me, wearing skirts almost as long as a woman’s.’
    Good old Fabius. Spent twenty years in the army where they wore their tunics high above the knee and obviously he still enjoyed the air whistling up his thighs, bless him. Claudia thought she ought to be able to draw a conclusion from that, but for the life of her she couldn’t think what it might be.
    ‘Bit late,’ he said by way of apology. ‘We’ve been practising our drilling, the boys and me. Got carried away by the time.’
    Ungrateful lad, that Paulus. Didn’t look at all like one who’d been carried away by the time. More like one who’d been counting off the minutes…
    The ceremony got under way with Diomedes filling glasses from the jug on the left and passing them round.
    ‘From the old wine we drink,’ he intoned solemnly in that thick, delicious accent, ‘and from the old illnesses may we be cured.’
    If he noticed any irony in the fact that here was a qualified physician banishing disease by the simple action of drinking wine he didn’t let on, but calmly poured wine into clean glasses from the jug on the right.
    ‘From the new wine we drink,’ he said, ‘and from the new illnesses may we be protected.’
    There followed sufficient hear-hear-ing and enough your-health-ing for Claudia to feel she could slip away quietly, but Eugenius beckoned her over.
    ‘I’m going to my room,’ he said. ‘I’d appreciate some intelligent company.’
    What could you say to the man whose house guest you were?
    ‘I was hoping you’d invite me,’ she said silkily.
    Sod it.
    Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fabius clap a hand on Paulus’s shoulder as the boy was set to make his escape, and heard his voice boom out.
    ‘Can’t stand sloppy drill. Sloppy drill meant a crack from my cane and the man on barley rations for a week.’
    So he was a centurion, then. Strange! Wealthy equestrian ranks, like the Collatinus clan, usually put a son in the army as a junior tribune as a stepping stone to a decent career in administration. The treasury, civil engineering, the usual stuff. Why should Fabius sign on as a legionary, an out-and-out footslogger, serving six or seven years before he could even qualify for promotion? She wondered whether she’d ever understand this family. Or frankly whether she was interested enough to bother.
    Back amongst his own possessions and his dirty pictures, Eugenius seemed less frail, more the tyrant she knew him to be. Acte went through her paces once again, tucking and folding, pouring and serving, silently but not subserviently attending his needs, which she did without having to be told.
    ‘Here’s your alum water.’ She placed a glass on the table beside his couch. ‘This time you drink it.’
    She turned to Claudia. ‘Keep an eye on him, will you? I found out yesterday he’s been tipping it under the bed.’ The old man’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Horrible stuff. Why can’t I have wine?’
    ‘Diomedes says it’s good for the paralysis.’
    ‘I haven’t noticed any improvement.’
    Acte shook her head. ‘I don’t hear you moaning about the massage he ordered, and that hasn’t made a scrap of difference either.’
    Her eyes, when they met Claudia’s, said ‘Honestly!’ and Claudia smiled. She liked Acte. How old would she be? Twenty-eight? Thirty? There was a rumour circulating that she was still a virgin.
    The room seemed a lot emptier without her.
    Picking up the alum water, Eugenius began to sip. ‘I’ve been talking to that Orbilio fellow.’ He pulled a face and replaced the glass on the table. ‘Seems very young.’
    ‘I fear he’s seen the porticoes of the Senate House, Eugenius. He’s running a direct course.’
    ‘Good luck to him, then. Patrician stock, should do well.’
    ‘They usually do,’ she replied caustically.
    Eugenius made a sucking sound with his teeth.