I Am Livia by Phyllis T. Smith Read Free Book Online

into young Caesar’s eyes and felt a tightness in my chest. Surely every woman carries an image in her mind of what perfect masculine beauty is. For me, this boy epitomized it. And yet I had seen other handsome men and felt little. Now there was a prickling in my skin. I was aware of the sun beating down, of how the fabric of my stola clung to my body, of how my hair felt, warm on the back of my neck. I wanted to reach out and stroke young Caesar’s cheek, very gently, to see if it felt as smooth as it looked. I wished I had an amusing story to tell him, so I could watch him laugh.
    He was Julius Caesar’s heir. Maybe somewhere in the city, even now, there were men who were threatened enough by that to try to kill him.
    If I were someone who loved him, I would have advised him to stay in Rhodes and never claim his inheritance, to keep his head down and hope people forget he exists. No one important is on his side. Antony cannot be, for he wants Caesar’s mantle for himself. Those like my father who follow Brutus can only see him as a potential enemy. Yet he walks in here like a shepherd boy striding unarmed into a den of wolves. He smiles at men who betrayed his adoptive father, and his eyes are peaceful.
    “Did you know that you were Caesar’s heir, before he…died?” It surprised me that I was bold enough to ask this question, but curiosity consumed me.
    Young Caesar did not seem disconcerted. He answered me in a serious tone, “It was a complete surprise.”
    “Were you pleased?”
    He glanced away, and then looked back at me, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Overjoyed.”
    “You felt no trepidation?”
    “Only an idiot would feel no trepidation,” he said, his voice serious again.
    “These games are winning you the people’s love. You can have a great political career if you wish to,” I said.
    “You think the people’s love is the key nowadays to a great political career?” he asked in a neutral tone.
    “No, the key is the army’s love. But of course you are buying that too.”
    He looked sharply at me. But he did not blurt out a lie, did not say that he had no intention of ingratiating himself with the army. We gazed at each other with a kind of understanding, odd between strangers. Yes, he would try for power. Soon. I knew it at that moment as if he had told me.
    “I am sorry for you,” I said. It was true. But the words slipped out against my will. I did not intend to speak them.
    “Really? I’m surprised you’re so softhearted.”
    “I’m not the least bit softhearted.”
    “I didn’t mean it as an insult,” he said.
    I was silent. We sat looking at each other for a long time. He tilted his head and studied me. Then all at once he smiled.
    I was a married woman. And my father had helped plot Caesar’s assassination, as had my husband. This boy who sat happily gazing at me was Caesar’s adopted son. We were enemies. Yet I could not keep from smiling back at him.
    I looked down and smoothed the folds of my stola, which did not need smoothing. When I raised my eyes, I asked, “Did you love Caesar?”
    “Very much. And I admired him more than any other man I ever met.”
    And so you will want to avenge him, I thought.
    “He had the falling sickness, you know,” young Caesar said. “He used to speak to me about that, and about the power of a man’s will to overcome physical obstacles.”
    “And he wanted you for his son,” I said. “I can imagine how much that means to you.”
    “Can you? Most people can’t begin to, but I somehow believe you can.” Young Caesar ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t usually talk so openly with people I’ve just met.” He gave an uneasy laugh.
    “Neither do I,” I said.
    He looked puzzled. “What do you mean? I’ve told you a great deal, and you haven’t said much about yourself at all.”
    Haven’t I? I thought . When a married woman looks at another man the way I look at you, hasn’t she said far, far more than