his throat and dragged his thoughts back to the moment. He had to put childhood behind him. There were many friends in the room, he told himself. Tubruk was like an uncle with his gruff affection and Marius and Metella seemed to have accepted him without reserve. Marcus should have been there. He owed him that.
Gaius hoped Cinna would be pleasant. He had not spoken to the man since formally asking for Cornelia’s hand to be passed from father to husband. It had not been a happy meeting, though the senator had kept his dignity for her sake. At least he had been generous with the dowry for Cornelia. Cinna had handed him the deeds to a large town house in a prosperous area of Rome. With slaves and guards as part of the gift, Gaius had felt a worry ease from him. She would be safe now, no matter what happened. He frowned. He would have to get used to the new name, casting off the old with the other trappings of youth. Julius. His father’s name. It had a good sound to the ear, though he guessed he would always be Gaius to those he had known as a boy. His father had not lived to see him adopt his adult name and that saddened him. He wondered if the old man could see his only son and hoped so, wishing for just that one more moment to share pride and love.
He turned and smiled weakly at Cabera, who regarded him with a sour expression, his thinning hair still tousled from being roused at what he considered an ungodly hour. He too was dressed in a new brown robe to mark the occasion, adorned with a simple pewter brooch, a design of a fat-faced moon standing proud on the metal. Julius recognised it as Alexandria’s work and smiled at Cabera, who scratched an armpit vigorously. Julius kept smiling and after a few seconds, the ancient features cracked in cheerful response, despite his worries.
The future was dark to Cabera as it always was when he was a part of a particular destiny. The old man felt afresh the irritation at only being able to sense the paths that had little bearing on his own life, but even the scratch of his misgivings couldn’t prevent him taking pleasure in the youthful joy he felt coming from Julius like a warm wave.
There was something wonderful about a wedding, even one as quickly arranged as this one. Everyone was happy and for at least this little while the problems to come could be forgotten, or at least ignored until dark.
Julius heard footsteps sound on the marble behind him and he turned to see Tubruk leaving his seat to approach the altar. The estate manager looked his usual self, strong, brown and healthy, and Julius clasped his arm, feeling it as an anchor in the world.
‘You looked a bit lost up here. How are you feeling?’ Tubruk asked.
‘Nervous. Proud. Amazed so many turned up.’
Tubruk looked with fresh interest at the crowd and turned back with eyebrows raised.
‘Most of the power in Rome is in this room. Your father would be proud of you. I’m proud of you.’ He paused for a moment, unsure of whether to continue. ‘Your mother did want to come, but she was just too weak.’
Julius nodded and Tubruk punched his arm affectionately before going back to his seat a few rows behind.
‘In my village, we just take a girl by the hair and pull her into our hut,’ Cabera muttered, shocking the priest out of his beatific expression. Seeing this, the old man went on cheerfully: ‘If it didn’t work, you’d give her father a goat and grab one of her sisters. Much simpler that way – no hard feelings and free goat milk for the father. I had a herd of thirty goats when I was a lad, but I had to give most of them away, leaving me without enough to support myself. Not a wise decision, but difficult to regret, no?’
The priest had flushed at these casual references to barbarian practices, but Julius only chuckled.
‘You old fraud. You just like to shock these upright Roman citizens.’
Cabera sniffed loudly.
‘Maybe,’ he admitted, remembering the trouble he’d caused when he had tried to offer his last goat upfront for a night of pleasure. It had seemed like sense at the time, but the girl’s father had taken a spear from his wall and chased the young Cabera up into the hills where he had to hide for three days and nights.
The priest eyed Cabera with distaste. He was nobilitas himself, but in his religious role wore a cream toga with a hood that left only his face bare. He waited patiently for the bride with the others. Julius had explained that the ceremony must be as simple as possible because his uncle would want to leave at the earliest moment. The priest had scratched his chin in obvious annoyance at this, before Julius slipped a small pouch of coins into his robe as an ‘offering’ to the temple. Even the nobilitas had bills and debts. It would be a short service. After Cornelia was brought in to be given away by her father, there would be prayers to Jupiter, Mars and Quirinus. An augur had been paid gold to predict wealth and happiness for them both. The vows would follow and Julius would put a simple gold ring on her finger. She would be his wife. He would be her husband. He felt sweat dampen his armpits and tried to shrug away the nervousness.
He turned again and looked straight into the eyes of Alexandria as she stood in a simple dress, wearing a brooch of silver. There were tears sparkling in her gaze, but she nodded at him and something eased within.
Soft music began at the back, swelling to fill the vaulted ceiling like the incense smoke that spilled from the censers. Julius looked round and caught his breath and everything else was forgotten.
Cornelia was there, standing tall and straight in a cream dress and thin golden veil, her hand on the arm of her father, who was clearly unable to keep a beaming smile from his face. Her hair had been tinted darker, and her eyes seemed of the same warm colour. At her throat was a ruby the size of a bird’s egg, held in gold against the lighter tone of her skin. She looked beautiful and fragile. There was a small wreath on the crest of her head, made from verbena and sweet marjoram flowers. He could smell their scent as Cornelia and her father approached. Cinna let go of her arm as they reached Julius, remaining a pace behind.
‘I pass Cornelia into your care, Gaius Julius Caesar,’ he said formally.
Julius nodded. ‘I accept her into my care.’ He turned to her and she winked at him.
As they knelt, he caught again the scent of flowers from her and couldn’t stop himself glancing over to her bowed head. He wondered if he would have loved her if he hadn’t known Alexandria, or if he had met her before he had gone to the houses where women could be bought for a night or even an hour. He hadn’t been ready for this, not back then, a year and a lifetime ago. The prayers were a peaceful murmur over their heads and he was content. Her eyes were soft as summer darkness.
The rest of the ceremony went in a blur for him. The simple vows were spoken – ‘Where you go, there go I.’ He knelt under the priest’s hands for what seemed like eternity and then they were out in the sunshine and the crowd was cheering and shouting, ‘Felicitas!’ and Marius was bidding him goodbye with a great clap on his back.
‘You’re a man now, Julius. Or she will make you one very soon!’ he said loudly, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘You have your father’s name. He would be proud of you.’
Julius returned the grip strongly. ‘Do you want me on the walls now?’
‘I think we can spare you for a few hours. Report to me at four this afternoon. Metella will have finished crying about then, I think.’
They grinned at each other like boys and Julius was left in a space for a moment, alone with his bride in a crowd of well-wishers. Alexandria walked up to him and he smiled, suddenly nervous. Her dark hair was bound with wire and the sight of her made his throat feel tight. There was so much history in those dark eyes.
‘That’s
