“I can see how that would be effective,” the centurion observed dryly. “But then how do you explain ... well, yourself?”
“After General Agrippa died, Augustus made Tiberius divorce his wife and marry Mother. But they were totally incompatible, and I can see how, under the circumstances, things turned out the way they did. Tiberius left Rome and went out to Rhodes to live. That pleased Mother; she was young and beautiful, and she was still the most sought-after of her set in Rome. So, after Tiberius hadn’t been near her bed for years and a succession of more interesting men had, it was discovered, to the horror of my conventional and publicly pious grandfather and the delight of Rome’s gossips, that I was expected. So the Emperor had the man who was supposed to be my father”—she smiled—“you know, I’ve always rather hoped he was—he had him executed, and he sent Mother off to Pandateria.” She threw out her hands, palms up. “That’s the story of Mother’s misfortune, me. But you must have heard about all this years ago?”
He ignored her question. “You her misfortune? Don’t be silly. You were rather, I’d say, her gift to Rome.”
“You do put things prettily, Longinus. Nevertheless, my mother was banished because of me.”
“But, by the gods, how could you help it, Claudia?” He caught her chin and turned her face around so that the moon shone full upon it. “Aren’t you still the granddaughter of the first Emperor of Rome on one side and a queen and triumvir on the other? Aren’t you still the stepdaughter of the Emperor Tiberius? Those are distinguished bloodlines, by Jove! What nobler heritage could anyone have? And aren’t you the most beautiful woman in Rome? What, by mighty Jupiter, Claudia, do you lack?”
“At the moment,” she answered, her serious air suddenly vanished, “a husband.”
“A situation you could quickly remedy.”
“A situation that Tiberius or Sejanus could quickly remedy, you mean, and may attempt to do soon, and not to my liking, I suspect. They may even pick another Aemilius for me, the gods forbid. Seriously, Longinus, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn right now that Sejanus has already arranged it. He and the Emperor are desperately afraid, I suspect, that I may scandalize Rome, as Mother did, if they don’t get me married quickly before I have a baby and no husband to blame it on.”
“But, Claudia....”
“By the Bountiful Mother, Longinus,” she laughed, “I’m not expecting, if that’s what you think. And what’s more, I don’t expect to be expecting ... any time soon. But I know Sejanus, and I know Tiberius. It’s all politics, Centurion. And politics must be served, just as it was served in my grandfather’s day and at every other time since man first knew the taste of power. The same hypocritical public behavior, the same affected virtues propped right alongside the same winked-at corruption.” She swung her legs around and stood up. “But enough of this speech-making. I’m going to bring us some of the Campania.”