But by this time Gaius was conversing with the Greek house slaves whenever he had the opportunity, including Charis, Julia’s chambermaid, who had herself been born on Apollo’s own island of Mytilene. One of the freedmen who worked for him had originally come to Britain as a secretary to a former Governor, and was glad enough to earn a few extra sesterces by correcting Gaius’s accent and making him copy out the speeches of Cicero to improve his Latin style.
He was resolved that when Julia’s child was born and she felt well enough to resume her lessons—if she ever did—he would have far surpassed her.
And so the winter passed. By their first anniversary, Julia’s sickness had subsided. She did not protest when her father proposed that Gaius join a hunting party for boar in the woods north of Londinium, escorting a wealthy senator with interests in the wine trade who claimed to have undertaken the hazardous journey all the way there for the sake of the hunting. Licinius did not think a great deal of the man’s skill, but admitted his political power, and flattered the man by assigning his own son-in-law to escort duty.
Julia, far from resenting his absence, was a little relieved to have him out of the house. Like most men, Gaius appeared to feel that any admission of difficulty was a plea for help. Since he could not help her, and indeed, was the cause of her condition, he was inclined to react with annoyance if she mentioned ill health or anxiety. Her father was not much better, and she had too much pride to unburden her heart to the slaves.
And so, on the morning Gaius left to go hunting, Julia sought the temple of Juno. Her maid Charis complained about walking all the way, but ungainly as she had become, Julia was sure the jolt of a wagon or the sway of a litter would have made her queasy again.
Nor did she mind when the eunuch who watched the door told her she must wait until the priestess should have time for her, for the interior of the temple was dim and cool after the brightness and dust of the street outside, and she was quite content to sit there for a time, gazing up at the painted statue.
Domina Dea…she prayed, I thought it would be so easy. But the slaves gossip about women who have died in childbirth when they think I cannot hear. I’m not afraid of that, Goddess, but what if my baby should die? What if I am like my mother, who bore only one child who lived beyond a year? My father has political power and Gaius can fight battles. But the only thing that I can do is give them a legitimate heir. She pulled her veil across her face so that no one could see that she was weeping. Help me to deliver a healthy son…please, Goddess, please!
She started as the eunuch touched her shoulder, then wiped her eyes and followed him to the inner chamber, ignoring the nagging pain in her lower back.
Juno’s high priestess was a woman of middle years, her face painted to look younger, whose hard eyes silently priced Julia’s jewels and gown. But she greeted Julia with an effusive warmth that sparked lively caution in the girl.
“You are worried about the birthing.” The woman patted her arm. “And it is your first, so it is only natural that you should be afraid…”
Julia pulled back a little, eyeing her warily. Didn’t the woman understand that it was not for herself that she feared?
“I want a son,” she began, and coughed at the wave of scent as the priestess bent closer.
“Of course you do. And if you make an offering, the Goddess will help you.”
“What kind of animal should I buy for the sacrifice?”
“Well, dear—” The woman looked down at her rings. “We really have enough of that sort of thing. But they are building a lavish temple for Isis down near the wharfs, and it would be a pity if Juno should be left looking like a poor relation. Surely she will give you what you want if you offer a generous gift to her shrine.”
Julia stared at her, understanding all too well, and rose heavily to her feet. “Indeed,” she said dryly. “I must go now, but I thank you for your good counsel.”