The Emperor's Assassin

Chapter Three

The cyzicene hall was Father's favorite place to dine,its décora reflection of his two favorite interests: the gods and wine. In each corner, finely wrought lamps shaped like bronze branches mimicked the grape boughs of our vineyard. Supported by claw-footed pedestals, they flickered with flame, dancing light upon the fanciful murals. On the south wall a muscular Jupiter threw thunderbolts at the trident-bearing Neptune who emerged from a foamy sea on the east. Above, grape-heavy arbors covered the ceiling in soft washes of color.

Beyond the open doors, the vineyards in the distance stretched like rows of verdant Doric columns over low hills. It was a sublime sight, one I never tired of. But tonight, my attention was on the guests. One in particular.

I looked past the servant who held a plate of olives and cold-pickled fish and counted six people lounging on the sofas. Father, Aunt Diana, Uncle Amando, and three gray-haired strangers.

Old men.

A heaviness fell, a weight that squeezed all my hopes out through every inch of my skin. I sucked in a ragged breath and affected a cheerful demeanor.

Father had abdicated his spot—the head seat—to a stern-faced gentleman, which meant he had high status. Surely this wrinkled stranger could not be my future husband. He was far too old, perhaps as old as Father.

"Ah, the late arrival of Fair Youth. My daughter Locusta makes a grand entrance." Father plucked an olive from the plate and plopped it in his mouth.

"Greetings." I removed my sandals with trembling hands and took a place beside Aunt Diana, whose mouth curved into a knowing smile.

Father introduced two men without ceremony. With a sweeping gesture, he indicated the third. "Faustinus, this is the most beautiful maiden in all of Gaul, my daughter, Locusta."

My heart heaved and constricted. My stomach clenched. All appetite vanished. "Greetings." I widened my polite smile.

An old man! Father and Aunt Diana arranged a marriage to an old man!

Father beamed with happiness and rubbed his hands together. "I hope everyone is hungry."

I stole a glance at Faustinus as the servant poured wine into my goblet and diluted the vintage with water

Old. So old.

He looked stern too with his hooded eyes, hair that curled from the nostrils of a large hooked nose, and hard-set mouth.

I looked at Aunt Diana and tried to convey my disappointment with a pained smile. She pretended not to understand and looked away.

I regretted appearing as a marriage-ready prospect. I wanted to wipe off the ochre from my lips and cheeks. Pull the pearls from my ears. Shake the pins from my hair. Revert to the girl-woman I was an hour ago. I wanted Faustinus to see I was far too young so that he would tell Father there had been a mistake.

But it was too late for that. Father and Aunt Diana must have reasons for choosing Faustinus. A prudent intention beyond his wealth and status.

I glanced at Faustinus again. Perhaps a kind heart laid behind his grim looks. I must not judge him too quickly. Yet, it did not matter. My life was dictated by others. I swallowed the lump of disappointment and pretended good cheer. Aristotle said happiness depends upon ourselves. I would make the best of it and hope Faustinus was a good man.

While servants set meat-laden platters on the table, the conversation shifted from weather to politics to the latest gossip about Rome and Emperor Claudius. They discussed senatorial conspiracies, criticized double-dealing petitions, and debated the merits of foreign wars. I nodded, smiled, and said "how interesting" at the appropriate times and covered the occasional yawn with a small linen mappa.