“What’s wrong with you, Minutus Manilianus?” she said to me. “You look as if you had some secret sorrow. Your eyes are restless and you won’t look me straight in the eye.”
I was forced to look into her eyes, which were as clear and wise as those of a goddess.
“Would you really permit me to put my problem to you?” I stammered.
She led me to one side, away from the gardeners and the slaves grubbing in the earth, and asked me to speak honestly and without fear. I told her about Claudia, but my first words made her start, although the expression on her calm face did not change.
“Plautia Urgulanilla’s reputation was always doubtful,” she said thoughtfully. “In my youth I knew her, although I wish now that I hadn’t. How is it possible that you came to know a girl like that? As far as I know, she is not allowed to set foot inside the city walls. Isn’t she a goatherd somewhere on Aulus Plautius’ farm?”
I told her how we had met, but as I went on, Agrippina kept interrupting me with questions-as she said, to get to the root of the matter.
“We love each other,” I managed to say at last, “and I’d like to marry her if a way to do so can be found.”
“Minutus,” protested Agrippina shortly, “one just does not marry girls like that.”
I tried to the best of my ability to praise Claudia’s good points, but Agrippina hardly listened to me. With tears in her eyes, she stared at the blood-red sunset over Rome, as if she had been upset by what I had said. Finally, she interrupted me and said, “Have you slept with her? Tell me honestly now.”
I had to tell the truth. I even made the mistake of telling her we were happy together, although this was no longer quite true because of our quarrels. I asked if there was any possibility of a good family adopting Claudia.
“Oh, my poor Minutus,” she said pityingly, “what have you become involved in? In the whole of Rome, there isn’t a single respected family who would adopt her for all the money in the world. If a family were willing to let her bear its name, it would simply show that that family is no longer respected.”
I tried again, carefully choosing my words, but Agrippina was adamant.
“On this point, it is my duty as the protector of the Noble Order of Knights to think of what is best for you and not just of this poor wanton girl,” she said. “You’ve no real idea of her reputation. I don’t want to go into the matter further, as you in your blindness would hardly believe me. But I promise to consider the matter.”
I explained in some confusion that she had misunderstood the whole matter. Claudia was neither wanton nor depraved. If that had been the case, I should never have dreamed of marrying her. Agrippina did at least show great patience with me. By asking me about everything we had done together, Claudia and I, she taught me the difference between virtue and depravity in bed, and made me realize that Claudia was obviously much more experienced than I in these matters.
“The god Augustus himself exiled Ovid, whose immoral book tried to show that love was an art,” Agrippina explained. “Surely you don’t doubt his judgment. That kind of game belongs to the brothels. That’s proved by your not being able to look into my eyes without blushing.”
Anyhow, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders when I had left the matter with Agrippina to deal with. I happily hurried out of the city to tell Claudia that our affairs were in good hands. I had not told her my intentions beforehand so as not to raise false hopes.
When I told her about my talk with Agrippina, Claudia turned pale with horror, so that the freckles on each side of her nose stood out dark brown against her gray skin.
“Minutus, Minutus,” she wailed, “what have you done? Are you completely out of your mind?”
Of course, I was bitterly offended that she should be so lacking in understanding when I thought I was doing it all on her behalf. It had taken considerable moral courage to discuss such a delicate matter with the first lady of Rome. I tried to ask Claudia what she had against the noble Agrippina, but she would explain nothing. She just sat as if paralyzed, her hands in her lap, refusing even to look at me.
Caressing her made no difference either. Claudia brushed me aside brusquely and in the end I could only imagine that she had something on her conscience which she either would not or could not tell me. I could extract no other answer from her except that it was not worth explaining to me if I was really so simple-minded as to trust a woman like Agrippina.
I left her in a fury, for it was she who had spoiled everything by her perpetual talk of marriage and the future. I had already gone quite a way when she appeared in her doorway and called after me.
“Do we part like this, Minutus?” she cried. “Haven’t you a single kind word for me? Perhaps we shall never meet again.”
Understandably, I was disappointed that she had not submitted to my caresses, as in former reconciliations. So I swore at her.
“By Hercules,” I shouted, “I hope we never meet again!”
I regretted it the moment I reached the bridge over the Tiber, and I would have turned back if my masculine pride had not stopped me.
Nothing happened for a month. Then one day, Seneca took me aside.
“Minutus Lausus,” he said, “you are twenty now and it’s time you learned about the administration of a province, for the sake of your career. As you probably know, my brother has been given the province of Achaia for a number of years for his services. Now he has written to me to say that he needs an assistant who knows the laws and has some military experience. You are a little young, of course, but I think I know you well enough. And your father has been so generous to me that I feel you should have this excellent opportunity of making progress. It would be best if you went as soon as possible. You can go to Brindisi at once. From there, you can take the first ship to Corinth.”
I realized that this was an order, not just a favor. But a young man in my position could hardly have asked for a better post. Corinth is a lively, happy city and ancient Athens not far away. I should be able to visit all the memorable Hellenic places on tours of inspection. On my return after a couple of years, I could perhaps apply for office. The thirty-year age limit could often be pruned down with the help of special merit and good connections. I thanked Seneca reverently and began at once to prepare for the long journey.
In fact the assignment came at the most favorable moment. It was known in Rome that the British tribes had risen to test Ostorius. Vespasian they knew, but Ostorius was not yet familiar with the circumstances in Britain. I had already feared that I might be sent back there and I had no wish whatsoever to go. Even the Icenis, who had hitherto been Rome’s most peaceful and reliable allies, had begun to make forays over their river boundary, and because of Lugunda, it would have been difficult to fight against them.
Nevertheless, I felt I could not leave without saying good-bye to Claudia, however unpleasant she had been. So one day I walked over to the other side of the Tiber, but Claudia’s hut was barred and empty, no one answered my shouts, and her flock of sheep had gone. I hurried over to the Plautius farm in surprise and inquired about her. But I was received coldly and no one seemed to have the least idea where Claudia was. It was as if it were forbidden to speak her name.
I was so worried that I hurried back to the city and went to see Aunt Paulina at Plautius’ house. The old woman, in mourning as usual, received me more tearfully than ever but would not give me any direct information about Claudia.