Aelius felt a rush of gratitude. Despite Catullus’s often inappropriate remarks, he was a good and generous friend. Befriending him had been one of Aelius’s better decisions since leaving the army and pursuing political office. Catullus cast a wide social net, fraternizing with people of all classes to gather material for his popular poetry, and didn’t mind being seen with a freedman.
The journey home was hazy, but soon they were entering the atrium of Aelius’s home on the Esquiline Hill. The atrium contained a small pool to collect rainwater, flanked by columns with square-carved tops. A few decorative items, inherited from his late stepfather, Herminius, adorned the perimeter of the room. A stone pedestal held an antique red-and-black vase depicting a group of prancing satyrs. Near the front of the room, there was a small cluster of portrait heads, each representing an ancestor of the Herminius family.
The newest head showed his stepfather’s countenance. It was a good likeness, but the marble made him look more dour than he had been in life. Herminius, a successful grain merchant, had been quick to smile and always the first to offer someone a kind word. He’d married Aelius’s mother, Gaia, shortly after the two had been freed, and had died of an illness two years ago.
Catullus jabbed him in the ribs. “Try to look just a little bit sober in case we should see—”
A shadow moved, and Aelius’s mother rose from a bench set between columns. She pulled a shawl closer around her slender shoulders and regarded them with an icy stare. “Good evening, boys.”
Catullus straightened up at the sight of her. “Good evening, lady. I have returned your son to you.”
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Aelius said, willing his words to come out crisply.
“You didn’t wake me.” Gaia raised her chin. “It’s rather difficult to sleep when one knows her only son is out carousing, at the mercy of every thief and brigand prowling the streets at night.”
Guilt stabbed at Aelius. He shouldn’t have made her worry. “I’m sorry, Mama. I just needed…”To forget. To escape.
Her gaze softened. “Well, I’m very glad you’ve returned safely.”
“I made sure to look out for him, Gaia.” Catullus stepped forward and took her hand, planting a gallant kiss on it. “I would not have such a lovely brow creased in worry.”
Aelius rolled his eyes, which made him dizzy, but Gaia smiled. “Flatterer.”
“It’s not flattery if it’s true, lady. I wish you would let me write a poem to—”
“Clearly we have both had too much to drink.” Aelius attempted to elbow Catullus but missed. “I think it’s time for bed.”
Gaia nodded. “Catullus, you must stay here for the night. You live across town, and it’s dangerous to walk alone at this hour. I will have a room prepared for you.”
“Your beauty is matched only by your generosity, lady.”
She gave him another smile, then beckoned Catullus to follow her to one of the spare bedrooms. Aelius retired to his own room. He collapsed into bed without undressing and stared up at the ceiling. The room spun, and he closed his eyes, which only made it worse.
Now that he was alone, all the unpleasant feelings he’d been trying to escape came flooding back. What if he couldn’t do it? What if his dreams to climb the political ladder and become consul were truly foolish?
A knock sounded at his door. “Aelius?”
His mother’s voice. He struggled into a sitting position, a hand pressed to his forehead as if that could stop the spinning. “Yes?”
The door eased open, and Gaia slipped through. She carried a small clay lamp which cast a glow of flickering light into the darkened room, illuminating the whitewashed walls. “I wanted to see how you were doing. I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Catullus kept an eye on me, as you can see.”
She shook her head and came to sit on the edge of his bed, the lamp nestled in her lap. “Not that. I meant I know how upset you were by the election.” She laid a cool hand against his forehead, just like she used to do when he was a child.
Aelius turned his face away. He’d tried to hide his devastation from his mother, but as usual, she saw right through him. “Every politician loses at some point. I’ll run again next year.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? Maybe you should take some time to think about it.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“I’m certain you can. But I question if this will make you happy. This constant striving, scheming…Once you attain one position, you will only want the next thing. If it’s money you’re worried about, you know Herminius left us with plenty to live on. We could leave the city and take an estate in the country. Somewhere by the sea, or maybe a little vineyard in the hills. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Would leaving the city make you happy?” Her happiness, after all they had suffered, meant everything to him.
She shrugged. “It would be a lovely place to raise a family.” She gave him a meaningful look. “We have a name now. You can’t let that disappear.”
Her right hand went to her left wrist, covering the brand that matched Aelius’s own. T, for their former master. Aelius usually hated the fact that they were both permanently marked with a relic of their past shame, but there were times when the twin marks were almost comforting. The brands now signified that he and his mother belonged only to each other.
