Catullus had helped spread rumors around the city that a reconciliation might be forthcoming. People eyed her and Aelius as they walked to the Forum. It was high noon, when the maximum number of people were out and about.
Rufus appeared in the Forum exactly as they’d agreed. He must have had a similar idea as Crispina, looking to draw as much visual attention to himself as possible. Four attendants flanked him, dressed in matching red tunics. Rufus wore a blue tunic edged with gold embroidery. A cluster of gold rings and bracelets adorned his hands and arms. Aelius’s only ornament was the silver wristband that covered his brand.
They approached as if meeting by chance and stood an arm’s length apart. Bruises still shadowed Rufus’s face, more visible on his fair skin than Aelius’s swarthier complexion. Crispina felt a thrill of satisfaction at the sight of his injuries.
“Rufus.” Aelius inclined his head.
People stopped and stared.
“Aelius. Crispina.” Rufus glanced around, as if ascertaining whether enough people had taken notice. He spoke louder than necessary for a private conversation. “How nice it is to see you both. Allow me to be the first to apologize for our disagreement last week. I should not have behaved in such a manner.”
“I believe it is my wife who requires an apology, not me,” Aelius said.
Rufus turned to Crispina. “Lady, my sincerest apologies for any offense I caused you.”
Crispina did not grace him with a smile. “I am sure it will not happen again.”
Aelius nudged her. Crispina’s teeth clenched, but she forced herself to relax.You’re doing this for Aelius. So he can beat this insufferable man.She extended her hand. Rufus took it and bent over it with a light, formal kiss.
“And I must apologize as well,” Aelius said. “I should have settled our disagreement with words rather than fists.” He raised his voice slightly. “After all, we are both working toward the same cause, the good of Rome, and I hope our interactions will be more collegial from this day forward.”
“Indeed.” They nodded to each other once more, and then it was over. Rufus continued on his way, and Aelius took Crispina’s arm and walked through the crowd of people that had assembled. Everyone was staring at them, eyes alight with interest, some whispering behind their hands.
“Did I perform to your satisfaction?” Crispina murmured.
“It might have been more convincing if you had smiled.”
“I don’t smile at men who insult me. No matter if they apologize.” Even the gesture of offering her hand to Rufus rankled. She would sooner have slapped him.
“You’ve never smiled at me, and I’ve never insulted you.”
She glanced at him. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”
He shrugged. “It’s the sort of thing one notices after a month of marriage.”
“I—” Crispina cut herself off. She’d been about to apologize, but she owed him no apology. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Their marriage wasn’t about affection or companionship, so her lack of smiles shouldn’t matter.
Nevertheless, his observation stung. Was she really so cold that she’d never smiled at him? She didn’t dislike him. She’d been proud of him when he’d debated Rufus in the Forum, before the fight broke out. She’d even kissed him.
She could have allowed herself to soften, assure him she hadn’t meant to be so cold.
But softening would mean opening her heart, and that would make their inevitable divorce more difficult than it had to be. So she tugged her palla around her shoulders, raised her chin, and said nothing.
Chapter 14
The apology worked, and soon invitations came trickling back, to Aelius’s relief. Over the next month, he and Crispina settled into a routine: days occupied separately, evenings either dining with his mother at home or attending a social engagement, nights spent next to each other in a silent, kissless bed.
Crispina seemed content, if not deliriously happy, which suited him well enough. She and his mother interviewed painters and artisans for some improvements to the house. They occasionally asked his opinion on a certain fresco design or mosaic style, and he tried to pick whichever option he thought they were angling for.
After the incident with Rufus resolved, a renewed hope flared that he actually had a shot at winning the election. It was still early days. With the election months away, his actions were focused on making friends rather than securing votes, but the former pursuit progressed well. Each dinner party resulted in new connections, which led to more invitations. Sometimes they even were asked to two parties on the same evening, and flitted from one to the other like bees between flowers. He knew Crispina did not enjoy the endless evenings of eating and making conversation and would prefer to be in bed reading history or critiquing another batch of Catullus’s poetry, but she never complained.
On one such evening, Crispina sat beside him as he reclined on a dining couch at a large house on the Palatine Hill. Conversation had turned to his altercation with Rufus, as it often did these days. For better or for worse, the incident had made him famous, and everyone had an opinion on it.
“Personally, I don’t think you should have apologized,” one man said. “It showed weakness.”
Another man on the opposite side of the table sniffed. “Laying hands on him was unforgivable in the first place. To be frank, I’m surprised he hasn’t sued you for assault. The last thing this city needs is more violence, not with a civil war less than twenty years past.” His voice lowered, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. “Though I suppose we can hardly expect better, when power is offered to those not born to it.”
Aelius wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard that last snide remark, so he decided to ignore it. Beside him, Crispina stiffened. He put a hand on her arm, worried she would summon a sharp retort that would offend their companions.
