“Bless the child indeed, and blast him for marrying in such haste. He must know that the roads and the seas alike will be too rough at this season for me to be there!” I exclaimed.
“Well, one can understand his hurry, if he is going off to war. No doubt he will settle his bride in Colonia or Argentoratum while he is with the troops,” said Cunoarda, picking up the spindle, which in my excitement I had knocked off the stool.
“How can my little Crispus be getting married?” I shook my head. “It seems only yesterday that he was sitting on my knee.”
“Perhaps he will make you a great-grandmother soon,” Cunoarda smiled.
I sighed. I found it hard to imagine Crispus a father, but at this season, when all the agues of the marshlands around the city seemed to settle in my bones, I could well believe myself old enough for great-grandchildren. It had been a hard winter, and I had heard that there was a new plague in the poorer quarters of Rome.
“I will gift them with my palace in Treveri,” I said then, “and order my bedchamber redecorated for the new bride. And I will send her my long pearl necklace. It will look better against her young skin than it does on me.”
“Oh my lady, you must not say so. Don’t you know that gossip holds that you have been granted an extension of youth by the gods?”
I raised one eyebrow. “Cunoarda, I would not have believed you to be a flatterer! Bring me my mirror—perhaps there has been some miracle since last I looked upon my image there!”
Flushing a little, she brought me the round of polished silver whose handle was formed in the shape of the Three Graces, their arms entwined. I turned my face into the light and held it up. The face that looked back at me was framed by silver hair, drawn back to a knot in two smooth wings held in place by a woven band. The flesh that once had clung to my strong bones so smoothly was sagging now, my eyes deep set and shadowed beneath my brows.
“What I see, my dear, is the face of a healthy woman of seventy-two. If it is not quite the image of a hag, it is because I am careful of my diet and force myself to take exercise. But just because I live in a palace is no excuse for me to ignore life’s realities,” I said tartly. “Now take this thing away. The hour in which I am scheduled to give audience is almost upon us. How many people are waiting in the reception room?”
“Not as many as usual, but one of them is Sylvester, the Patriarch-Bishop of The See of Rome.”
“Very well, I suppose it is time to put away my spinning and become a Nobilissima Femina, even if I am an old one, once more. I will wear the tunica of forest-green silk, and over it the sea-green pallium.”
“Yes, my lady, and the earrings and necklet of emerald and pearl?”
I nodded, reached for my stick, and levered myself upright, sighing as if I were already weighed down by the brocade and jewels.
Since taking possession of the Sessoriana it had been my custom to hear petitioners just before the noon meal. I was always astonished by how many people would make their way across the city to my domus, tucked into the south-eastern angle of the walls the Emperor Aurelian had built to protect the sprawling suburbs of Rome.
Today, despite the foul weather, the hall was full. Above the aromatic scent of the herbs laid on the coals in the brazier I could smell wet wool, and smiled, for it brought back memories of Britannia. Escorted by Cunoarda, my greyhounds padding by my side, I took my place in the carven chair on the dais, and surveyed the crowd.
I recognized Iulius Maximilianus, who was supervising the reconstruction of the baths on the domus grounds. It was my intention to open them to the public once they were completed, as an establishment of such size was hardly required to keep one old woman clean.