Dawn sunlight stained the sky over the busy port city of Caesarea Maritima. Dock workers hefted jars and bundles onto ships riding anchor at the wharves. From the fort, or castrum, near the King's palace, a bugler, or buccinator, sounded first watch for the garrison. Carts clattered along winding streets while shopkeepers opened their storefronts.
At the townhouse, or domus of ex-Centurion Publius Cornelius, a servant opened the door leading from the street to the vestibule or entryway of the home. The baker, whose shop stood to the right of the door, called out.
"Is your master at home today?"
"Young Publius is seeing everyone for now," the doorman replied. "The old man is busy."
"Fair enough," the baker mumbled.
The doorman entered the house, crossed the atrium, and tapped at the door of the praetorium or study where father and son were finishing ientaculum, a light breakfast of bread, cheese and leftovers from last night's supper. Cornelius, Sr. handed the servant the tray, then snapped shut a wax tablet and passed it to his son.
"The rents are on the right and shares on the left," he said.
"What about past dues?" Young Publius said. "We have three."
"I know who they are and why they're late," his father said. "I'll talk to the Brothers and see what can be done. Let me handle it."
"Yes, Sir," Young Publius said.
He left the office and looked round the atrium, seeing tenants and business associates of his family gathering there. The baker came through the front door and glanced to his left, where he expected a lararium or shrine to the household gods to be. A waterclock and shelf of houseplants and knicknacks occupied the space.
"My family doesn't venerate the old gods," Young Publius said and gestured toward the tablinum or reception area where official business was conducted. As he spoke with the baker and tavern keeper who owned the shop on the left of their front door, the servant ushered another group of men toward his father's office. Young Publius kept the tenants and clients talking, and their focus on him and the tasks at hand. The less anyone knew about who was coming to their home that day, the better.
Cornelius, Sr. opened the door of the study wide when the doorman tapped on it again.
"Brothers," he said.
"We come in peace," Micah, a freedman who led the local congregation said. "Let me introduce your guests, from Jerusalem. Matthew used to be a tax collector."
"Why do you look familiar?" Cornelius asked. "I know I've seen you before. I was First Rank Centurion for the Second Cohort of the Italian Band. We were in Jerusalem quite a few times. Did we meet at some point?"
Matthew studied him and nodded.
"I'm sure we crossed paths," he said. "Men from your unit guarded the tax office from time to time."
"We have Master Luke, a physician," Micah continued.
"You'll see a rare sight today, doc," Cornelius said. "You're going to meet the world's only woman medic to serve in any army."
"I've heard of her, but never met her," Luke said. "Is the lady still coming?"
"Her father sent word yesterday," Cornelius replied. "He will bring her at the eighth hour. I also remembered that the Young Marcus, a Legatus Augustus now, was Prefectus for our cavalry cohort. He saw and participated in a lot of what went on and he's also willing, eager in fact, to speak to you. He's coming, as well."
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Domina Victrix
Historical FictionDescendants of Triumvir Mark Antony through his little-known first wife, young cousins, Victoria and Marcus, have always known they were heirs to a mixed-blessing heritage. Roman men were expected to brutally dominate their families and the world a...
