The air always had a hint of myrtle leaf, peculiar to the lady’s residence. That the spice was a symbol of fertility was a nuance hardly lost on her, Genucius thought as he sipped his warm wine. The Lady Barbaria’s circle was always…fertile….at court and as trite as she and her entourage often were, neither could they be ignored. So when the Imperator’s aging mother summoned the
imperii leader, he would be foolish to ignore her.
”Ah, there we are,” his host said, bustling into the room with high enthusiasm, her voice trilling just a tone too high, he mused. Had he interrupted? In his mind, he could picture the well-muscled favorite racing down the hallway towards the rear entrance. She was known for such fickle tastes. Never a beauty, she still drew men like moths by virtue of her position and subtleties. Genucius had heard the rumors, of course. With the young Selenus’ departure, her affections had moved on to a procession of officers, clerks, and court officials, each affair more scratched and bittersweet than the next. She used up her men like wax candles, though there was an effect on her as well, he noticed. Her skin was losing its battle with time, the droop more pronounced of late. Her well oiled hair looked more and more artificial, the black too perfect to be called real. And her clothes hung more loosely, perhaps to hide the fading curves? It was unfortunate that her mental powers did not suffer such loss, he decided. As she lay down on the couch, affecting an unconcerned style, he resettled himself a fraction too late. As usual, she knew precisely what he had been thinking.
”I always did like the cool weather, Dives,” she said delicately, arranging herself languidly on the silk cushions.
”No servants to wave fans at you, struggling to keep you cool,” she smiled.
He wasn’t sure if it was piteous to watch an aging woman use the archaic flirtations of youth. Did she see her own decline or, lost in the world of the fawning, was she clinging to what attractions she might have had? Those who do not see reality are the most dangerous of all.
”Vero,” he said calmly, summoning a lazy detachment to mask his swirling thoughts. Barbaria was good at reading a man, yet he was experienced at not being read. There were times when he enjoyed their banter.
”Winters in Italia can be harsh from time to time, but the descent itself is so very refreshing. Another cycle of seasons pass, and one wonders what to look forward to in the next.”
”That depends on much, does it not, Dives?” she responded, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly.
”If my son were here, he might look to the stars to find his answers.” The pair chuckled, and Genucius relaxed. Romulus could sometimes remain a safe subject between them.
He eased forward to have his goblet refilled and he glanced around the opulent furnishings in the quiet lounge, waiting for the servant to make her discreet exit.
”I take it the Imperator consults with the Bishop again today?”
”Consults? You value poor Felix too highly, Dives, no doubt the mark of a nervous Senator. No, no…dear Romulus simply has Constantine’s disease. He styles himself a priest from time to time. He waits daily for news of Verus’ glorious victory and looks for signs in all things.”
Genucius hid his instinctive reaction behind another sip. The Senate was naturally conscious of what dignity it retain, and between the
Curia Julia and the
Vaticanus, there was little love.
”Felix fusses over eastern squabbles too much to notice what goes on behind him. He’s too busy fuming over Euphemius to see how irrelevant he’s become. It was one thing when there was no one to sit on the western throne but a strong Rome? With an army behind it? Makes a priest a tool, not a vicar. Don’t you agree?”
It was an uncharacteristically strong pronouncement, and he wondered briefly if he’d said too much. Yet these were sentiments that everyone already knew belonged to the leading Senator. Barbaria let him dangle for an instant before cutting through the brief tension.
”Distracted perhaps. Irrelevant? Senator Markus might have revived the Senate and brought a balance of sorts, but you forget yourself if you think the priests supine. My son likes when his subjects play and bicker.”
He chose to keep silent rather than continue the uncomfortable train of thought. He knew was an imperial creature, yet preferred not to speak of it too openly.
”So your son cavorts with the Bishop? Cause for alarm, Lady?”
Her trilling laugh said more than her words could.
”Certainly not, dear Dives. As you say, the Bishop is irrelevant.” He pretended to catch her humor and waited for her laughter to subside. In an instant, however, she was quite sober.
”I will tell you what alarms me, Senator Genucius. It is this talk I hear of you and Regulus.” He set down his goblet, her shift in tone signaling a change in the conversation.
”Did you truly believe you could slide her into my son’s bed without my knowledge? How long have we known each other, Genucius?” It was a rhetorical question, which he wisely chose not to answer.
”Hesta is charming in her own way,” she said easily,
”yet she is not for my son. Surely you know this. The embassy hasn’t left Italia.”
True enough, he conceded, though hardly conclusive. The new emperor in the East, Anastasius, was treading carefully, waiting to see if his nominal ally, Theodoric, would indeed crush the upstart emperor in the West, or would Romulus survive, forcing him to switch tactics. The old treaty, dropped ever since the Acacian schism, did not completely lay forgotten. Genucius knew many in Rome longed to see Romulus wed to an eastern princess and become Anastasius’ junior, the fortunes of the Empire bound together once more.
”These are dangerous games, Lady Barbaria. Waiting for the priests to settle their affairs and the East to come back to the table is risky. A solid Roman girl, from a good family, would set the imperial succession on a stable path now, rather than banking on a tenuous future.”
Again, she laughed, though more shrewdly this time.
”Your nobility is charming as it is assumed, dear Dives. You stand to gain much more than a stable succession if your girl is wed to my son. Which, I assure you, she will not,” she said, resuming her serious tone.
”And now, perhaps if you’ll excuse me? I think perhaps I will pay a call on my son. The privileges of motherhood.” She stood, prompting him to emulate her and take his leave. As usual, behind the pleasantries, she was as firmly rooted against him as ever.
Behind Genucius’ mask of indifference, his calculations were shifting once again. Right now Lady Barbaria would be whispering poison into young Romulus’ ears, playing Hesta to be the harlot. Regulus was always too optimistic and surely Arcadius should know better. Perhaps a solution would present itself without their intervention.
