“Treasure the time you have with Julia now, my lad,” Licinius would say, patting him on the shoulder, “for you’ll be parted often enough in the future, especially if you’re assigned duty in Dacia or some other post on the frontier.” They both knew that the path of promotion led all over the Empire; a long-term provincial post such as Camp Prefect or Procurator was awarded only at the end of a career.
These were the crucial years, when the name a young man made for himself – and the contacts – determined how far he would rise. Soon Gaius would need to spend some time in Rome itself; he found himself looking forward to it. Meanwhile he applied himself to understanding the workings of government in the smaller reflection of the capital that Londinium had become.
More quickly than he could have imagined, a year went by. From time to time disturbing news came from Rome. The Emperor had got himself elected to the office of Consul for the next ten years, and Censor for life in addition to the powers he already had. The patricians muttered darkly that it was a plot to gain control over the Senate, but did little more, for at the moment the army was quite happy with their Emperor, who had raised pay by one-third. As an officer Gaius could not object to that, but it was clear which way the wind was blowing. Even more than his predecessors, Domitian seemed to regard the remaining democratic institutions of Rome as outdated, and certainly inconvenient.
A few months after their marriage, Licinius had engaged a tutor -primarily for Julia, he said – so that she might learn to speak better Greek and more polished Latin, and Gaius, to his chagrin, was urged to share these lessons. “For if you go to Rome, it will be necessary for you to speak good Greek; and a more aristocratic Latin,” he pointed out.
Stung, Gaius had protested. From his earliest boyhood, Macellius had insisted that tutors should be engaged, and that he became as fluent in Latin as in the tribal Celtic language of his mother’s kin.
“Plain Latin is good enough for me,” he protested.
“No doubt it’s good enough for an army camp,” Julia argued, “but believe me, it would be better to speak to the Senate in Celtic than in that vulgar dialect of Deva.”
Gaius felt like protesting that his Latin was no worse than that of Macellius; but it was true that Macellius had never had to speak to the senators of Rome. And it would do him no harm to learn the language of educated men everywhere, which would always be Greek. But the lessons did not go on for long. By the end of the summer Julia was pregnant and so queasy much of the time that the tutor was dismissed.
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.