Those distorted days changed Roman life completely, abolishing dignity, severity and even frugality. Arsinoe received many presents, and not only the customary clay bread, fruit and domestic animals, but valuable jewelry, perfume, mirrors and wearing apparel. She had attracted much attention despite her modest demeanor as she walked in the streets and market places accompanied by Hanna or one of Valerius’ old slaves. She accepted the gifts with a wistful smile, as though a secret sorrow were preying on her. As return gifts Tertius Valerius bestowed upon the givers, on her behalf, a clay oxen or lamb to remind the recipient of the simplicity of traditional Roman customs.
But Arsinoe declared, “These festivities are nothing new to me. The celebrations in Carthage which honored Baal were much wilder. I can still hear the furious music of the drums and the rattles in the days when I was young and attended the temple school. The youths became so frenzied that they slashed their bodies like the priests, and wealthy merchants presented fortunes, houses and ships to the women who could please them. This primitive festival is really quite tame compared to the festivals of my youth.”
She met my glance and explained hastily, “Not that I long for those days of futile passion. It was passion that plunged me to destruction, causing me to lose for your sake all that I had achieved. But surely I can think of my youth with a sigh now that I am a mature woman who is content with her lot in a secure house and a place in a bed beside a useless man.”
In that manner she reminded me that I was but a guest in Tertius Valerius’ house and even that only through her efforts. But she was so under the spell of the gifts, the festivities and the excitement that she drew me to her in the dark of night. I felt the glow of the goddess in her body and once again she flung back her white arms and breathed her hot breath into my mouth.
But as we lay in the darkness and I felt myself happy once more she began to talk. “Turms, beloved, months have passed and you have done no more than gape about you. Soon Misme will be four years old and it is time for you to become sensible. If you won’t think of me and my future, at least think of your daughter and her future. How does she feel, seeing that her father is a mere idler who is content with crumbs of charity? If you were even a driver of race horses or a skilled horn blower, you would be something. But now you are nothing.”
Her caresses made me so happy that her words did not anger me, nor did I care to remind her that Misme really was not my daughter. I was very fond of the little girl and enjoyed playing with her, while she liked me more than Arsinoe who rarely had time for more than scolding.
I stretched my limbs in the bed, yawned deeply and said in jest, “I trust that you are still satisfied with me as a lover. If you are, that suffices for me.”
She let her palm slide down my bare chest.
“You don’t have to ask that,” she whispered. “No man has ever loved me so divinely as you. You know that.”
Then she raised herself on one elbow, blew into the brazier so that her face was lighted by its reddish glow, and said thoughtfully, “If that is your only skill, Turms, at least take advantage of it. Although Rome is superficially strict in its habits, I doubt whether it actually differs much from other lands. Many a man has risen to high position merely by choosing the right bedchamber.”
Her cold-blooded suggestion made me sit upright. “Arsinoe,” I exclaimed, “do you really mean that you would want me to sleep with a strange woman for the purpose of obtaining political or material benefits from her husband or friends? Don’t you love me any more?”
“Of course I would be slightly jealous,” she hastened to assure me. “But I would forgive you knowing that it happened for the good of our future. Only your body would be involved, not your heart, and thus it would mean nothing.”
She caressed my limbs and laughed lightly. “Truly, your ‘body is so beautifully formed and is so appropriate to its task that I fear it would be wasted if it made only one woman happy.”
“The same is true of your own body, Arsinoe,” I said coldly. “Is your suggestion a threat?”
She raised her hand to her mouth and yawned. “It was so unnecessary for your tone to harden,” she said reproachfully. “You yourself have noticed the change in me. No, Tertius Valerius would not understand and forgive me if he saw that I were wanton. But forget what I have said. I merely spoke what came to my head. Some other man would have considered my words a compliment. Only you are as hard-headed as ever.”
Only a few days later, when the palling after-effects of the festival were still felt throughout the city, and I myself was depressed to think that I was nothing, Arsinoe came to me in great haste. Her face was set in a hard white mask, not beautiful but horrifying as a Gorgon in my eyes.
“Turms,” she said sharply, “have you looked at Hanna recently? Have you noticed something different about her?”
I had not looked at Hanna especially although I had felt her presence and bright glance whenever I played with Misme. “What is wrong?” I asked in surprise. “Perhaps her face is thinner. Surely she is not ill?”
Arsinoe struck her hands together in impatience. “How blind you men are! Still, I myself have been just as blind in trusting that girl. I thought I had reared her well, but now she is pregnant.”
“Pregnant-Hanna?” I stammered.
“I happened to look at her and demanded an explanation,” said Arsinoe. “She had to confess, for she can’t hide her condition much longer. That stupid slut obviously thought that she could deceive me, her mistress, and began to sell herself. Or perhaps, in even greater stupidity, she became fond of some handsome lictor or wrestler and slept with him. But I’ll teach her!”
Only then did I remember my own guilt with a pang. It was I who had warmed my loneliness with her virginity in the harbor of Panormos. But Arsinoe had assured me that I was sterile, so Hanna could not have become pregnant by me. I had merely opened the way, and it was my fault if she had succumbed to temptation in a city like Rome. But that I could not confess to Arsinoe.
Arsinoe became calmer and pondered on the matter coldly. “She has betrayed my trust. What a price I would have received for her if she were undefiled, and how well I would have arranged everything for her! She could have even earned enough to buy her freedom in accordance with Roman laws. But a pregnant female slave will be bought at best by some overseer who wants to increase his workers. But why weep over a broken crock? We’ll sell her quickly, that’s all.”
Horrified, I declared that Hanna had, after all, taken good care of Misme and that Arsinoe should not have been concerned with her support since Tertius Valerius bore the cost of it.
Arsinoe screamed shrilly at my stupidity, shook my shoulders and exclaimed, “Do you want a harlot to care for your daughter? What manners do you think she will teach Misme? And what will Tertius think of us for not keeping an eye on our servant? First the girl must be flogged, and I myself shall see to it that it is not done clumsily.”
And again I can plead no defense save that everything happened too rapidly and that my own feeling of guilt stunned me. As Arsinoe rushed out I sat with my head between my hands staring at the colored tiles of the floor and was roused only by screams of agony coming from the courtyard.
Running outside, I saw Hanna tied by her wrists to a stake and the stable slave lashing her bare back so that welts had formed on her smooth skin. I snatched the whip from the slave’s hand and, blind with rage, struck him across the face with it. Arsinoe stood nearby, red-faced and quivering.