"Damn you!" he flung at her. His eyes narrowed in towering fury. "So be it, Claudia Acte! Proceed with your damned abortion! I have no real need for you or for your spawn! I have tried to follow the honorable course, but you spurn it. Do what you will. To hell with you and your whelp!"
He flung his cape over his shoulders and left, closing her out of his thoughts with the slamming of the door behind him. He went to Capito’s house for dinner, as he’d planned.
Euphonius stood in the doorway, his hands folded, his face worried. "Is everything settled, My Lady?"
"So it would seem."
"Tomorrow morning?"
She looked at the executioner of her unborn child. There would be pain, so much pain! And she would not live to see the sunset... "In the afternoon," she murmured. "I would like to go into the city tomorrow morning."
"As you wish, My Lady." He hesitated, then offered, "After the operation, you may wish to have someone nearby. Most women do. I would be honored to help you through the first days."
"This is not my first abortion."
"Then perhaps you will need someone more than ever."
He hoped for a reply, but the lady had drawn deep into her private thoughts. Out in the kitchen, the servants chatted volubly as they finished their scouring and preparations for the next day. They laughed, they gossiped. And when they were done, they departed for their cramped, airless apartments over the stables. Acte listened to them. How could it be? They dwelt amid squalor and severe deprivation, and yet they laughed. She sat amid wealth and splendor and endured untold misery.
She ascended the gleaming stairs to her room. Sleep eluded her. Instead, she gazed out at the crescent moon and marveled at its coldness. Tomorrow she would cross over the line separating the living from the dead. Tomorrow, all the mysteries would be explained to her at last. She felt the cold weight of the grave upon her chest, pushing her deep into the earth.
"I am miserable."
The words hit her with the force of a revelation.
"I cannot escape."
They rang with the clarity of a gravedigger’s first shovelful of dirt. Where could she go? Who in Rome’s world would pity her? Tomorrow she would simply cease to exist and who would mourn her passing? Claudia Acte, friendless, childless, unloved...
The moon waned. The child lay quiescently curled within her scarred womb. He had found a soft place in which to anchor... a miracle! But tomorrow he would be scraped from his haven. Tomorrow, they would both cross the threshold, the child first, and then his mother...
She wiped her tears away and banished the long night.
"What does it matter?"
The sky lightened around those words.
"Good morning, Lady Acte! You’re awake!" His inquisitive eyes pierced her armor. "You’ve been crying. Don’t be afraid. I will bring you safely through this ordeal. I only want what is best for you, Lady!"
"Yes, I know."
"Some breakfast?"
"No, I’ll eat... later."
Claudia Acte stood up. She passed her mirror without looking into it, as if she were afraid that no image would be found within its silvery depths. Her women were assembled in the atrium. A long, painful twist of terror knifed through her bowels. Trapped! She had nowhere to turn, no one to call upon in her distress. By tonight she would be dead...
She took up her shawl and left the house. She wandered through the bustling streets. The women chattered tirelessly. They entered the public baths, paid their fees, and entered the steaming water. Acte drew apart earlier than the others and sat by herself, drying her long blonde hair. She couldn’t breathe. Air, she needed air... Without speaking to anyone, she took up her clothes and slipped away. And suddenly there was air and wonderful noise. The dusty brick road was harsh beneath her bare feet, the hot wind tugged listlessly at her gown. She walked slowly and deliberately, not caring where she went. Reality receded as she made her blind pilgrimage from her private hell. No one followed her. No one noticed her. The sun hit its zenith and she stopped to rest awhile beside the public well. She was tired and hungry, dizzy and displaced. She sat on a stone bench that bore its marks of human abuse stolidly. She watched a group of children at play. They were hopping to a child’s tune, their little legs pumping, their atonal voices piping, their small faces alight. When they realized that she was watching them, they fell silent and stared at her mistrustfully. Finally, with some hesitation a small, curly-haired boy left the group and approached her.
"Are you lost, Pretty Lady?"
"More lost than I can say."
His grave countenance deepened with concern as she suddenly covered her face with her hands and wept. She wept for her own children. She wept for herself.
"Don’t cry. Don’t you know that He is risen?"
Acte choked to a stop. "What did you say?"
They boy was flustered. He grew fearful. "I didn’t say anything."
"You did! You said someone came back from the dead!"
"I didn’t!" he shouted, backing away from her.
"Don’t leave me! Please stay, please!"
"Let’s get out of here, Tobias," a child called. "She’s a crazy person!"
"Crazy! Crazy!" They capered about and just as quickly vanished when a woman called.
"Tobias! What is happening out there?"
The boy darted away. He returned in a flash with the woman. "Here she is, Mama. She says she is lost."
The woman frowned worriedly at Acte. "Who are you?"
"I do not know."
Mother and son exchanged glances. "Go away."
"I have no place to go."
"The Master said..." Tobias whispered.
"I know!" his mother snapped. "All right. Come to my house. You are tired and hungry. After you’ve eaten, perhaps you’ll remember who you are and why you are here."
Acte accepted the ungracious invitation with the same quiet desperation that had brought her to this place. The woman set wine, bread, and cheese on the table. Tobias sat down across from Acte and stared raptly at her beautiful face as he munched a slice of bread. His mother settled beside him and watched their guest warily.
"I cannot tell you my name," Acte said at last. "It would endanger you to know it."
"You are in flight."
"Yes, from the imperial Court."
"You are fleeing a gentleman?"
Acte smiled tiredly. "He is hardly that! I am a slave who has left her master’s house without permission."
Mariam sat back quickly. "The penalty for that is very severe."
"I would gladly pay it, but there is the child to consider... "
"You don’t want him born into Rome’s world? Into his mother’s slavery? Is that what brought you here?"
Acte reflected. "I don’t know," she replied honestly. "I only know that I had to leave, if only for a little while."
"Do you know where you are now?"
"No."
"Almost all of my neighbors have retired from the Court for many reasons. This is said to be the most dangerous ground in Rome. That is why they come here. The Praetorians themselves won’t venture into these streets!"
"But the children were playing... "
Tobias laughed. The lilting sound was beautiful. His mother smiled at last.
"I am Mariam. I am a widow. This boy is my world. I would never expose him to any danger."
Acte gazed at her without comprehension. "But the children were playing. I saw them!"
"Yes. In Rome’s most dangerous sector, the children play without fear. Think about it, Fine Lady."
