And soon after the twins celebrated their second birthday, she was pregnant once more.
After a long rainy spell, when the children chafed and whined at being kept inside, the weather had turned warm at last. Julia sat on the veranda they had built along the front of the house when they added the wings to either side. Ostensibly she was going over the household accounts, but actually she was dozing in the sunshine. Her hands rested lightly on the round of her belly, where she could sense the movements of the child within, surely a son. He had not moved much lately and she supposed that the warm weather had made the baby as torpid as she was.
Julia lay still, eyes half-closed against the sunshine, listening to the singing of the birds and the voices of the household slaves as they busied themselves about the tasks of the farm. Gaius used to say that Julia’s household always ran with the efficiency of a Legion making camp. She knew without checking where each of her servants would be and what he or she would be doing at each hour of the day.
“. . .playing in the garden.” That was the voice of the strapping Gaulish girl whose job it was to keep track of the children.
“That they are not!” Old Lydia, who ran the nursery, replied. “The twins are eating their noon meal, and Cella is helping the cook make pies. But Secunda is just at that age when if they are unwatched they will go exploring —”
“She was in the garden . . .” the girl said weakly.
“And where were you? Flirting with the master’s groom again?” Lydia replied. “Well, she can’t have gone far. You get out there and find her, and I will call some of the men to help you. But I promise to personally see you whipped if any harm has come to the child! What were you thinking of? You know the mistress must not be worried with her time so near!”
Julia frowned, debating whether to get up and speak to them. But this pregnancy had sapped her energy and her will, and surely Secunda would turn up soon.
In the distance she heard more voices, and Gaius’s deep tones questioning. Good, she thought then, they have got him out looking. It is high time he bestirred himself more on the children’s behalf.
She lay back again, knowing that she ought to relax for the sake of her unborn child, but as the moments wore on, she found tension bringing her upright again. She could hardly hear the calling now. How far had Secunda gone?
The shadow on the sundial had moved almost to the next hour when she heard muted voices and footsteps crunching on the gravel of the path. They had found her then — but why were they so silent? Secunda ought to have been wailing if her father had paddled her as she deserved. A chill swept through Julia’s body. She hauled herself upright, clinging to the pillar, as the little procession emerged from among the trees.
She saw Gaius’s dark head and tried to call out to him, but words would not come. Then the gardener moved aside and she saw that he was holding Secunda in his arms. But even asleep she had never seen her little girl lie so still.
“Why isn’t she moving?” Her lips twitched soundlessly.
Gaius came forward, his face working, already blotched with tears. More water dripped from Secunda’s pink gown, and her black curls were plastered tight to her skull. Julia stared, shock sending ice through her veins.
“She was in the stream,” he said hoarsely, “at the edge of the field. I tried to breathe life back into her. I tried . . .” He swallowed, looking down at the small closed face, pale as marble now.
No, thought Julia numbly, Secunda would never breathe again. She blinked, wondering why the world had gone so dim around her. Then she felt a wrenching pain in her belly.
The next few hours were a confusion of grief and pain. She remembered hearing Gaius swear he would have the Gaullish girl flayed, and Licinius trying to calm him. Something was wrong with Secunda . . .She tried to get up and go to her, but her women kept pushing her back down. And then the ache in her belly would begin again. In her more lucid moments Julia knew this was wrong. She was familiar with the pangs of labor, but she was barely six months along. Gods, if you have any mercy, make it stop. You took my daughter — don’t let me lose my son!