The Egyptian Royals Collection (155 page)

Nothing in the world had ever equaled it in beauty or grandeur, not even in Alexandria. From the rich marble flooring to the internal colonnades, light and color worked together to create something that had never been done before. The dome was decorated with octagonal and hexagonal shapes, making it appear like a honeycomb to anyone who was standing beneath it. In the center was a large, perfectly round opening, an oculus, which let in the only light.

Gallia’s gaze traveled from niche to niche, where workers were using oiled polishing cloths to prepare them for the reception of the marble statues. When she repeated her amazed sentiments in Gaulish, Juba stepped from the shadows and replied, “It’s impressive, isn’t it?”

I looked at Vitruvius in surprise. He explained, “He has come to inspect the statues for flaws and authenticity. They only arrived this morning.”

Juba and Gallia spoke for a moment in her language, then he turned and greeted Octavia and Vitruvius. But when it came to me, his voice was not so merry. “I don’t believe there are any mosaics that need finishing.”

“I am here to make measurements for the statues,” I retorted.

He turned to Vitruvius. “What?” he asked with mock indignation. “You didn’t think I would consider that before buying them?”

Vitruvius looked genuinely apologetic, but Juba slapped his back good-naturedly.

“Of course.” Juba laughed. “There is no point in hauling a marble statue across the chamber if it’s only going to be returned.” He took Gallia and Octavia on a short tour of the building, and while they were busy I helped Vitruvius take the measurements. I hoped desperately that one of the statues would be too tall or too wide for its niche, but, frustratingly, Juba was right. They all fit.

“Well?” Juba stood over me when we were finished.

“They’re fine,” I said shortly, rising and dusting my hands on my tunic.

“A perfect job,” Vitruvius complimented. “And very handsome sculptures, Juba. Are they all Roman?”

“Only the Venus is Greek. For some reason, I was drawn to her face.”

I looked across the Pantheon to the statue of Venus. Perhaps it was my own vanity that made me think I recognized her. But the nose and possibly the light, painted eyes were similar to mine. Then Gallia dropped her voice and whispered, “She reminds me of Caesar’s mistress.”

“Terentilla.” Juba nodded. “Yes. Perhaps you’re right.”

That evening, I dressed more carefully than usual for Marcellus’s first feast. I put on my favorite tunic of blue silk and a belt of silver cloth to match my sandals. Then Gallia arranged my hair in a handsome bun on the top of my head, using long silver pins to hold it in place. The result in the mirror was extremely pleasing, and even Gallia was impressed. She sprayed me with a blend of violet and jasmine.

“You have turned into a real beauty,” she said. “Hera would be jealous if she had to compete with you.”

I laughed. “How do you know that story? It’s a Greek tale.”

“I read. And sometimes, Magister Verrius tells those tales to me.”

“Does he miss us?” I asked as we walked to the portico.

“What do you think? He has Drusus and Vipsania now for students. They do not study much.”

Poor Magister Verrius
, I thought.
He probably imagined that Julia and Marcellus were the laziest students he’d ever have to teach
.

My brother and Lucius were already on the portico, gambling with dice. “Don’t you ever stop?” I teased.

My brother looked up, and a smile touched his lips. “Nice.” He rose to his feet. “Exceptionally nice,” though he gave me a warning look.

As we walked across the Palatine, I clenched and unclenched my hands. “So what do you think their villa will be like?” I asked.

Alexander smirked. “Without any slaves? A mess.”

“Octavia will have lent them some,” I said. “And I’m sure Julia took cooks from her father’s house.”

“We’ll see,” he said eagerly as we came to their doorstep. A young slave I had seen in Octavia’s villa answered.

“Salvete,”
the girl said in greeting. The glow of the setting sun burnished the gold trim on her tunic, and I was certain it was a touch that Julia had added. She wanted even her servants to wear gold. “Please.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”

Our small party entered the vestibulum, and Claudia made noises of appreciation. The floor was made from white Carrara marble, and the elegant murals and stucco decorations had been polished to a shine. Although many people had been here on the night of the wedding, few had taken the time to study the architecture, and as the young girl led us through the atrium, I could see Vitruvius appraising every niche and alcove. The judgment he passed must have been favorable, since he looked at Octavia and smiled.

When we reached the triclinium, Marcellus and Julia rose from their couch, and Alexander whispered, “Look at the tables.” They were made from cedar wood and inlaid with both jasper and ivory.

“Welcome, Mother,” Marcellus said jubilantly. “So?” he asked eagerly. “How do you like it?”

“Beautiful,” she admitted. “All the marble and light. Especially in the atrium.”

“Julia’s going to buy the rest of her furniture tomorrow. We still need a lararium and couches for the guest rooms. Please, sit wherever you’d like.”

I had been worried about what the seating arrangements would be, but they were the same as for every other evening on the Palatine. Octavia sat with her daughter and son-in-law, and Vitruvius and Juba joined them. Drusus and Vipsania ate with Antonia and Tonia at their own small table, while the rest of us sat with Julia and Marcellus.

“Your own villa,” I said enviously. “So what is it like?”

“Wonderful,” Julia gushed. “No one to tell you what to do, or when to wake up, or where to go.”

“And the pool overlooks the Circus,” Marcellus added. “It’s too cold for it now, even though it’s heated, but in the spring, you’re all welcome to come.”

“It must be quiet in Augustus’s villa without me,” Julia said.

Tiberius raised his brows. “Yes. There’s no one to pick on now but the slaves.”

She laughed, and I thought,
Already, marriage has changed her. She would never have let him have the last word before
.

“And have you seen the upstairs?” Julia asked me.

“No, not yet.”

“There’s an entire room just for bathing, and a chamber that looks out over the Forum. Come!” She stood. “Let me show you around.”

“But what about your guests?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “They won’t miss me during the
gustatio
. Let them have a few drinks and some oysters.”

She took me up the stairs and pointed out the small details that she knew I would like: the onyx floor with its sleek fur rugs, the insets of blue and yellow marble on the ceilings. The tapestries, draperies, and awnings all looked new, and I asked her, “Who owned this villa before?”

“Some old man who died without children. My father bought it for me six months ago and had all of the tasteless furniture removed.
You should have seen what was here. Only now, there are no tables and almost nothing to sleep on.”

I saw what she meant. In the bridal chamber, although the windows were beautiful and the floor had been polished, there was only a single couch.

Julia saw my look and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s worse than my father’s villa, isn’t it? Even the Vestals live better than this!”

I was forced to agree with her.

“Come with me tomorrow,” she begged. “We’ll go shopping in the Forum.”

“I have to work with Vitruvius.”

“What? Every day? No one has a better eye for design than you.”

I hesitated.

“Please. He’ll understand. Just tell him your next project is going to be my villa!”

The next morning, we set out for the Forum. Alexander came with us, shadowed by two Praetorians, and Julia remarked, “I’m surprised you’re not with Lucius. I can’t remember the last time I saw the two of you apart.”

My brother wrapped himself tighter in his cloak. Although no rain had fallen yet, the wind was bitter. “He’s with his father. He wants to show him some things he’s written and ask for his opinion on finding a patron.” He looked at me. “Do you think there’s any hope?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s not as though Vitruvius doesn’t have a patron himself.”

“Yes, but it’s Octavia and he’s sleeping with her. We were hoping for a patron who’s content simply with art.”

“Has he tried Vergil?” Julia asked. “Or Horace?”

“They both have more than a dozen writers whom they help fund. And Maecenas is interested only in Ovid.”

“Then why can’t
we
be his patron?” Julia asked suddenly. “Marcellus and I are married, and now both of us have our own funds.”

My brother stopped walking. “Really?”

“Why not? Octavia has her writers, and it’s probably time that I have mine!”

My brother laughed. “Lucius will be absolutely beside himself.”

“There’s only one condition,” Julia stipulated. “In all of his work, I want to be young and pretty, even when I’m old and fat.”

“Eternally beautiful,” my brother said. “Duly noted.”

When we reached the shops along the Via Sacra, Julia wanted to go into them all. By the afternoon, we had chosen nearly everything she would ever need: chairs and chests made of citron wood, tripods with heavy bronze basins for incense and whose legs were decorated with gryphons’ heads and claws, tables made of rosewood, ivory-handled mirrors, hip baths in the shapes of sea-dragons and swans.

“Your villa’s going to be like the Royal Palace of Alexandria,” my brother promised.

“Really?” she asked eagerly.

“Prettier,” I said, though it disturbed me that I was beginning to forget what the rooms in the palace had looked like. Sometimes, when I took out my book of sketches and flipped through the pages, I was reminded of a chamber I’d forgotten entirely, or an alcove where Alexander and I had played as children. Sometimes I wondered how much Alexander remembered, but I was afraid of asking and upsetting him.

“All right,” Julia announced. “Just one more thing. A tapestry for the atrium.”

We followed her into a shop near the Senate, and Alexander nodded appreciatively. “Impressive.” On the walls hung tapestries and
marble plaques depicting every sort of mythological scene. On one tapestry, Odysseus navigated his ship past the cliffs of Scylla. On another, Romulus and Remus fought about the walls of Rome. My brother stood immediately in front of a plaque depicting the Greek twins, the Gemini. “Like our mother used to call us,” he said quietly. “We should buy this for our room.”

“Absolutely not! It’s too expensive.”

“Then let me buy it for you,” Julia said. When I started to object, she shook her head sternly. “In three days, it’ll be your birthday, and this can be my gift.”

“Julia, this is too generous,” I protested.

“After all you did for me before my wedding? Nonsense,” she said, and snapped her fingers. The man behind the counter came over at once, and when Julia pointed to the marble plaque, his eyes went wide. “Have this sent to Octavia’s villa,” she instructed. “You know the place?”

“Of course, Domina.”

“And you see that tapestry of Venus and Vulcan? That should go to the house of Julia Augusti.”

“This is a very kind present,” my brother said. “Between this and Lucius’s patronage, I don’t see how we can ever leave Rome.”

She grinned. “Good. When Livia returns, I’ll need trustworthy friends on the Palatine.”