I passed a cold, fitful, sleepless night. It would have been warmer if Bethesda had been beside me. She slept in Diana's room. I suspected that her abandonment of our bed was as much to punish me as to comfort our daughter; if Diana had to sleep without her spouse, then so should I. I rose several times to pass water and pace the house. From Diana's room I heard the two of them talking in low voices, sometimes weeping, long into the night.
The next morning, before I had dressed or eaten, even before my first disparaging glance of the day from Bethesda, who remained shut away with Diana, a slave arrived at the front door with a message. Mopsus ran into my room without knocking and handed me a wax tablet. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and read:
If you are still in Rome and this message finds you, I beg you to come to me at once. My messenger will show you the way. We do not know one another. I am Maecia, the mother of Numerius Pompeius. Please come as soon as you can.
While the messenger waited in the street, I withdrew to the garden, still wearing my nightclothes. I paced back and forth before the statue of Minerva, looking furtively up at her. On some days her eyes gazed back, but not that morning. What could the virgin goddess know of a mother's grief?
My stomach was empty but I had no appetite. I shivered in my woolen gown and hugged myself. After a certain age, a man's blood grows thinner year by year, until it becomes like tepid water.
At last I returned to my bedchamber. To show respect for the dead, and for a dead man's mother, I would put on my best toga. Wearing it would also serve to demonstrate to anyone who saw me that Gordianus, at least, was going about his business as calmly as on any other day. I opened the trunk and smelled the chips of cedar scattered inside to ward off moths; nothing looks sadder than a moth-eaten toga. The garment was just as it had come from its last washing at the fullers, lamb-white, neatly folded, and loosely bound with twine.
I summoned Mopsus and Androcles to help me dress. Usually Bethesda assisted me in donning my toga; she had grown so skilled that the procedure was effortless. Mopsus and Androcles had helped a few times before, but still had only a vague idea of what to do. Following my instructions they laid the irregular oblong of wool over my shoulders, wrapped it across my chest, and attempted to arrange the folds. There seemed to be four of us in the room: myself, two slave boys, and a very unruly toga intent on thwarting the rest of us. As soon as one fold was tucked, another came untucked. The boys became flustered and sniped at one another. I rolled my eyes, admonished myself to be patient, and kept my voice low.
At last I was ready. On my way out I encountered Bethesda emerging from Diana's room. She coolly looked me up and down, as if I had no right to wear such finery when my daughter's life was ruined. Her unpinned hair hung in tangles and she could scarcely have had more sleep than I; even so, she looked remarkably beautiful to me at that moment. Time had never yet diminished the luster of her dark eyes. Perhaps she read my thoughts. She paused to give me a fleeting kiss and whispered in my ear, "Be careful, husband!"
In the foyer I encountered Cicatrix. The hulking monster was leaning with his back against the front door, arms crossed, idly scratching the ugly scar across his face. He gave me an impertinent look, then stepped away from the door to let me pass.
I cleared my throat. "Let no one in while I'm gone," I told him. "Take orders from no one except my wife or my daughter. Do you understand?"
He nodded slowly. "I understand that I'm to keep an eye on this house for my Master, the Great One." He gave me an unsettling smile.
As I stepped out the door to join the waiting messenger, I whispered a prayer to Minerva to watch over my household.