Pilate's Wife: A Novel of the Roman Empire by Antoinette May Read Free Book Online Page A

of god."
    "This isn't a joke! We're talking about Marcella's life. Surely you must have known someone would find out."
    He laughed heartily. "I wanted Livia to find out. I sent a slave to tell her. Why not? It is never too early to build a reputation."
    I stared at him incredulously. I wanted to fling myself at him, scratching, biting, kicking. I wanted to kill him for his ugly insolence, his thoughtless cruelty. My hands clenched tightly into fists. "But you like Marcella," I reminded him when I could speak at last. "You've always chased after her. I thought when you knew the trouble she was in you would want to help."
    "Oh, I like her well enough," he said, watching me thoughtfully.
    My heart quickened. "Then it will be easy. All you have to do is marry her."
    "Marry her!" Caligula laughed mirthlessly. "Not likely. She's a lively girl all right, very lively, but a bit too full of herself for my taste. None of you Proculas know your place. You, Claudia, are the worst with your uppity ways. I don't know why my parents are so fond of you. Who do you think you are, walking in here and presuming to tell me what to do?"
    I looked down, feeling that I had only made matters worse. It was hopeless.
    "So where is your famous sight now?" Caligula goaded. With a flourish, he threw back the covers. "Has it ever shown you anything like this?"
    "Oh!" I gasped, my cheeks flaming as I stared at his naked body.
    Caligula gloated, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Come now, Claudia, you always have something to say. Aren't you impressed?"
    A wave of violent nausea swept over me. I gritted my teeth. "Is that all?" I somehow managed to ask. "I'd heard they were bigger."

     

    T HE T EMPLE OF V ESTA IS A MASSIVE GOLD-DOMED BUILDING, ROUND, signifying the hearth, its circular cella enclosed by handsome Corinthian columns. On the day of Marcella's initiation, two priestesses, white gowned and veiled, met us at the entrance. Marcella, standing straight and noble, walked with them to their adjoining palace. We were very proud of her courage. No one would have guessed that the girl had lain awake the whole night long, sobbing until there were no tears left.
    An hour later we joined her in the grand chamber. Marcella was clad like the others in flowing white. Father took my trembling sister's hand and led her to a dais where Tiberius waited before the sacred flame. Marcella had never looked more beautiful, her blue eyes almost the shade of violets as she met his solemn gaze.
    Father moved back as the Chief Vestal motioned for Marcella to kneel. Acting as Pontifex Maximus, Tiberius stepped forward. Placing his hands lightly on her shining black hair, he spoke the ritual words: " Te amata, capio! My beloved, I take possession of you." Slowly, lock by lock, Marcella's curls were shorn. Since her hair was long and very thick, Tiberius seemed to take forever.
    Sitting between my parents, hands in theirs, I tried to control my sobs. Occasionally I stole glances at Mother, tears coursing down her pale cheeks. My father's face was set in grim lines, but from time to time I saw his eyes glisten. Agrippina had the grace to look away, but Livia and Caligula made no effort to conceal their pleasure. Both appeared to delight in every minute. Sometimes they nudged each other. Once they even laughed. My sister seemed impervious to everything. As I watched the last curl fall and the wimple go over her head, the Marcella I'd known all my life faded before my eyes.

    CHAPTER 4

The Voice of Isis
    T he day after Marcella's initiation Tiberius startled us all with a proclamation: Germanicus was to tour the empire. Tata would accompany him.
    Within an hour Mother was packing for all of us. I could scarcely believe my eyes as I watched her move from one trunk to another, folding this, discarding that. "Surely we aren't going with them?"
    Looking up from a stack of tunicas, she brushed a tendril of hair from her forehead. "Have you taken leave of your senses? Can you imagine