Memoirs Of Vinca, Part  VII

 

for Chryseis-Happy Birthday!

 

 

The Palace was in uproar.  Servants fussed and hurried, dusting, sweeping, mopping, smoothing fresh sheets in the beds in the guest quarters, carrying vats of fresh incense for the burners.  An assortment of fresh and wild blooms transformed the somewhat austere Palace interiors into a splendid riot of colour, the marble walkways sparkled like the icy surface of the Tiber in winter.  The reason for this sudden upswing in the otherwise monotonous routine of  Palace life?  Commodus had decided to hold a grand reception for Rome's "best and brightest," as he put it..

     I, needless to say, was among the servile multitudes charged with the  task of ensuring the Palace  gleamed from top to bottom in time for the evenings' festivities.  Dusting the statue of Vespasian in the Grand Hallway close to the Imperial Quarters,  I was distracted by the strangest of sights...A vast garland, borne along by a pair of little thin legs, on a collision course with one of the rotund pillars lining the corridor.   "Look out!" I yelled, but it was too late.   The little legs crumpled to the ground,  there was a "whimpering" sound,  the flowers scattered willy-nilly, revealing Hestia, large dark eyes blinking and dazed.  "Oh, you silly little thing!" I admonished, rushing to help her to her feet.  "What in the Gods' names were you thinking of, carrying that thing in front of your eyes? It's obvious you couldn't see a thing...."

     Hestia giggled, having composed herself.  "Oh Vinca, I'm sorry!  But  I have other, far more pressing things on my mind today...." Smiling enigmatically, she clasped my hand in hers, pulling me towards a nearby alcove.  "Vinca, today I am the happiest girl in all of Rome!"  Her eyes shone.

"Well come on then, what is it?  Have the powers- that- be granted your freedom?"

"No...even better than that!"

"Oh come on, Hestia, you're torturing me now. What is it?"

"Cleandrus has asked me to marry him!"  she squealed.

"Oh Hestia, that is marvellous news!" I replied, kissing her.  Truly, I was delighted for her.  Cleandrus and Hestia had always been close since her early days at the palace,  when the then-twelve-years-old  Cypriot boy first took the nine-year old Gallic mouse under his protective wing.   Their friendship, durable and strong,  had evolved into love once they reached adulthood.   There had indeed been a discernible change in Hestia over the past couple of months.  She'd acquired an extra, welcome measure of flesh over her erstwhile waiflike frame,  the shadows under her eyes had gone,  her skin had lost its sallow cast and glowed, radiant, like a fresh peach.   Not quite Juno Gynetrix, you understand, but most definitely healthier.  I wondered whether there was another, more pressing reason for this sudden, burgeoning womanhood and the concurrent stealth engagement.

   " Hestia,"  I whispered carefully, lest Trincula or Portia were hanging about somewhere with ears flapping,  "You aren't....er, you aren't..expecting, are you?"  I had,  after all,  acted as "lookout" on more than one occasion,  so Cleandrus and Hestia could spend some "quality time" together.   Hestia giggled.  "Oh no!" she said.  "Cleandrus is always very careful, and anyway, the dreaded red mist surged forth only a few days ago!  But we can't wait any longer, Vinca, not even until we are free...that could take years!  In fact, the Lady Lucilla has kindly offered to help us with the arrangements.  She says she will pay for the feast and will be taking me to the Forum next week, to choose material for my wedding gown!  Isn't that wonderful?"

     I was charmed by Lucilla's kindness.  The Lady had appeared somewhat stressed of late, but the fact that she still managed to consider the needs and wellbeing of her staff impressed me tremendously.   She had always been particularly fond and protective of Hestia, having made her her personal dresser, partially to shield her from Commodus' hostilities.  Young  Lucius also thought highly of Hestia;  she would often read to him while his mother took afternoon tea with her brother.   We had to move then, a clutch of male servants having  appeared with a vast, rolled carpet inlaid with pure gold  thread.

 

Late afternoon saw me busy in Commodus quarters, helping him to dress for the reception.  He'd chosen a sumptuous gown of midnight blue with a matching cloak, emblazoned with gold and silver thread,  festooned with jewelled brooches and antique medallions.  It showed off his flawless ivory skin and those compelling, sea- coloured eyes to perfection.

       Securing the chain holding the cloak in place around his shoulders,  I turned my attention to the one around his waist.  "Ah-ah, do be careful, Vinca!  It's a little too tight...you couldn't loosen it a bit, could you?"  He groaned with discomfort, his face slightly perplexed.   It wasn't overly noticeable, but he'd gained a little weight recently. 

"Of course, Sire.  How many notches?  One? Two?"

"Just the one.  Oh Vinca, do I look exquisite? Please tell me!"

"Devastatingly handsome, Sire," I muttered, amused, through a mouthful of pins.   "You'll impress the sandals off all the ladies at the feast tonight, of that I'm certain."

"Just the sandals?"  he teased.  "Oh Vinca, truly, you do make me laugh so, the things you say!"

"Did you know," I continued, "that the King of Parthia's daughter is coming tonight?"  Commodus had never married, had never been betrothed to anyone.  Why was this?

     He rolled his eyes.  "Oh, who cares?  The woman's a frightful bore.  All she ever talks about are her silly herb gardens and collection of hair-ornaments.  And what's more..." he went on, leaning close to whisper in my ear,  "She has a mustache!"  We giggled conspiratorially, like children savouring a secret.

"Oh Sire, you are cruel..."

"Well, she does!  She tears it off with hot wax!  Lucilla even saw her do it once!"

"Well, there's Apollonia, daughter of the Governor of Rhodes...she is very beautiful..."

"And shallow.  And about as lively as the Dead Sea.  And as bright as a Briton winter.  Tell me," he said, his voice light, teasing, "what is this?  Has Cupid descended from Olympus, dispensing advice in the form of Vinca, my lovely Briton songbird?"

"Well Sire," I offered, "I'm just curious, that's all.  Have you never given serious consideration to marriage?"  Almost immeduiately, I knew I'd said the wrong thing, for his jovial manner seized up, slamming shut like an angry clam. 

"I don't want to get amrried.  That is, I don't think I ever could get married."  His voice, stony, signalled an end to this particular topic of conversation.

     I pondered his words.   Why "couldn't" he get married?  Of course he could, he was Emperor!  He could do as he pleased.   Unless, of course, his preference was for males;  same- sex relationships, though tolerated, accepted and positively encouraged in some quarters, continue to be denied the seal of matrimony by law.  Commodus was indeed partial to the company of the occasional male servant; then again, he was privy to the "servitude" of certain female members of staff as well.  Except for me,  his friend.  And the older servants.  He was sexually active, thus discounting impotence as a factor;  but maybe, just maybe,  there was someone, someone he couldn't have, someone denied to him by marriage or class or law or...

"Vinca?  You look miles away, precious.  Now tell me.  How do I look?  Truth!"

"A treat, Sire.  Breathtaking."  He shimmered.  He sparkled. He was beautiful.

"Oh Vinca, what would I do without you?  Now be off with you, my flame-haired loony-bird.  Drusus is waiting to do my hair!"  Then he did the most extraordinary thing.  He leaned over and kissed my cheek, butterfly-light and swift.  A peculiar sensation of warmth, subtle and enticing, suffused my being as he turned to go.

I stood there for over two minutes after he left, stroking my cheek,  savouring the kiss, my heart dancing with possibilities.

Rome's array of "notables" began to arrive as soon as dusk fell, chasing the last vestiges of daylight from the city.  In steady procession they came;  the white-robed senators Falco,  Gracchus with his younger male companion, Gaius with his favourite mistress, the lovely, dark-haired Septima.   Gaius' wife Livia, a homely blonde of blunted beauty, had long since been "put out to pasture," as the Senate cruelly put it,  installed in a luxurious but isolated villa on the Palatine, where she passed her afternoons in the company of similarly-thwarted "first wives," prattling endlessly and critically about their former spouses' legionnary infidelities.  Along came the Proconsul Sulla and his wife Cosima, tongue already loosened from the wine; the noted historian and scribe Dio Cassius;  the  King of Parthia, splendidly attired and accompanied by wife and daughter; there was no sign of the infamous "mustache" which Commodus had described to me. Then the most fascinating couple in all of Rome: the Senator Albinus and his daring, exotic wife Paulina, a fleshy, full-bodied woman with an eccentric sense of style and a legendary, unharnessed appetite for pleasure.   She was notorious for appearing at official receptions surrounded by an entourage of swarming "Mytilene nymphs" (both she and her husband preferred their own sex,) and gossip about the orgies and "costume parties" she gave was rife;  at these, she would weave a rampant path through the multitudes of writhing, frolicking bodies in a costume that bared her breasts, pausing only to pluck a nubile young beauty from the swarm with whom she would "retire" to her bedchamber.  She scandalized the Senate by appearing in public and at the Games clad in male armoury or  as Diana the Huntress,  copper hair forming and extravagant aureole of curls around her head, a glittering trail of rubies, sapphires, and emeralds tracing the line of her sharply-defined brows.    She was also one of Lucilla's closest friends.    Commodus secretly couldn't abide her (in private he referred to her as "that tiresome, vulgar, craven woman") but this didn't prevent him from being in regular attendance at her costume parties, dressed invariably as Hercules, Hector or Alexander The Great.

     Last but not least, there was Demetrius Asinius Galba, Maximus'  successor as General of the Felix Legions.  Swarthy, dark-haired, magnanimous, with merry brown eyes and a prominent scar across his brow, he was Roman-born,  of Greek ancestry.    He had been stationed on the Dacian frontier with the Augusta Legions when he recieved the "call" from Commodus.   Like the Emperor, he was unmarried, but the reasons for his single status were somewhat less ambiguous than Commodus'.   Put simply, no wife would have ever tolerated his libertine excesses; the oft-quoted phrase "a woman in every outpost" did him absolutely no justice whatsoever.  As I weaved between the guests, pouring wine, I noticed his eyes linger over the languid, willowy form of Apollonia,  daughter of the Governor of Rhodes, whom Commodus had earlier described to me as dull.

     A herald of trumpets announced the Imperial Family's arrival.   The guests turned their attentions to the top of the vast staircase in the reception hall, where Commodus stood, haughty and handsome, pausing for dramatic effect (he certainly knew how to milk an entrance) before alighting the steps like Apollo sweeping down from the heavens.   He was accompanied by Lucilla, lissome and beautiful in a gauzy gown of pale green silk, a sensational headdress comprising diamonds and pearls atop her elegant head.   Young Lucius held her hand, quite the young Emperor-in-waiting in a smart robe of yellow and gold.  After greeting each guest in turn,  Commodus led the way towards the vast banqueting hall, where the guests took their places on  couches around a long, low table, beautifully inscribed with scenes of Bacchanalian revelries.

     Seated, the guests began to dine on the luxurious food brought by the servants.   A starter of truffles and wild mushrooms was followed in swift succession by a wondrous fish soup, honeyed prawns, and in honour of the King Of Parthia,  a speciality of that nation's cuisine comprising roasted pheasant stuffed with rice and almonds.  Fried bread with preserved plums drenched in honey provided a fitting finish to the feast.  Copious quantities of bread and exotic fruits were served as accompaniments, in additon to the ubiquitous wine.   Commodus' sparkling laughter infected the entire table as he led the conversation, consisting mostly of banter and light-hearted ribbing, with studied ease.   More wine was poured, and the bacchanal increased.  Lucilla called Hestia over with instructions to take Lucius up to his quarters.   As I stood, holding a warm bowl of rose- water for the guests to rinse their fingers, I was able to relax a little and study their interactions more closely.   I noticed that Gracchus did not laugh at any of Commodus' jokes; instead he would roll his eyes, turning to whisper something in the ear of his male companion, who smiled blandly.   Gaius belched and settled back on the couch, Septima mopping his sweating brow with a perfumed handkerchief.   At this point, the atmosphere took a subtle turn;   the humour, good-natured at the start, became slyly, snidely critical of the other guests.  As  I placed a fresh bowl of rose-water before Commodus, he laid a hand on my shoulder.   "Ahh, here she is!" he smiled. "Our lovely, hardwordking, and very talented Vinca!  Vinca sings, and what a voice she has too!  Is that not so, Vinca?"

"Well, I do my best, Sire"  I shrugged and busied myself with clearing away the guests' empty platters.   I admit I was a little worried he was going to ask me to perform for the benefit of his esteemed company tonight, but thankfully, he didn't.  As I collected the plate set before the Lady Paulina, she laid a soft, jewelled hand on my forearm.

"My my, what astonishing hair!" she uttered, reaching up to touch the curls. "Is it natural, my dear, or is it hennaed?"   I smiled to myself.   Commodus had asked the same question only a couple of months earlier.  

"It's all natural, my Lady." I said.  The guests stared, rapt.   Paulina leaned back, rubbing her chin in contemplation,  skewing me with her gaze.   "Hmmmm.  I can see how it would be so.   However, you wouldn't want to PROVE it to me later on, my dear....perhaps somewhere a little more....intimate?"   The guests fell about, laughing, except for Commodus, who shot her a look of pure poison.

"Paulina, if you please.  Vinca has much to do, she cannot concern herself with such...trifles."  Paulina leaned back in her seat, visibly sulking at Commodus' remonstrance.    I bowed and left the table.   As I left, I heard Demetrius mutter in Commodus'  ear, "She's from Britannia?  By the Gods, how could that dreary place produce such an untarnished flower?"

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