Domina Triumphans

Chapter 20, 47 AD, Britannia, Rome, and the Levant

The sun sank low over the harbor of Caesarea. The ship carrying Ptolemy and Alexander slid into a mooring and dropped anchor as sailors and dockmen prepared to lay the gangplank. Alexander took Antonilla's hand and followed Ptolemy and Elissa onto the dock, looking for anyone who might be waiting for them. A short, compact man in garrison dress let out a sharp whistle and waved them over.

"I'm Cassillus Longinus," he said to Alexander. "You must be Prince Ptolemy."

"That would be me," Ptolemy said. "This is my wife Elissa Barcilla, and this is my brother Alexander and his wife Antonilla Gallina."

"Let me get you to the house," Cassillus said. "We're expecting you."

They rounded up the porters and Longinus led the way, pointing out various landmarks. Ptolemy knew somebody in the family was dying of cancer but did not want to cause offense by asking who it was. Longinus took them through the vestibule of a large, Roman-style domus.

"Look who I found," he called out.

An older woman, short and slight with greying hair and wizened features hurried into the atrium, looked over Ptolemy and Alexander, and burst into tears.

"Juba!" she cried out.

She turned to the arms of a middle-aged man with brown hair and dark brown eyes. Ptolemy approached her.

"Mother? It's Ptolemy and Alexander. Juba is gone."

"She knows," Flavius said. 'It's your resemblence to your father that's got her."

Victoria turned to Ptolemy and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing. Alexander joined the hug.

"Your father would be so proud," Victoria said.

She wiped her eyes and pulled away.

"Come, meet the rest of us. Tribune Cassillus Longinus was married to your cousin, Fadia, but she passed last month."

"I want to get back on the boat," Alexander said. "My condolences, Tribune. There's been so much death lately."

"And more to come, I'm sure," Marcellus said.

...

Bolt made ready for bed and settled next to Eleni, hoping this would be the night they did not cry themselves to sleep. The pain of Fadia's death and the yearning for four small grandchildren would not let up. His mind flashed back to Urracca's wedding feast and Cerberus' eerie cry. He hoped he would not hear that sound again for awhile. Eleni turned to him and buried her face in his chest, her body shaking with sobs. Bolt gathered her to him and searched his mind for anything comforting, remembering something in Isaiah's writings.

...Your dead will live. My corpses will rise up. Awake and shout joyfully, oh you residents of the dust...

....

Cassillus lay awake in the darkness. The room he had shared with Fadia now more empty than ever. He had asked Flavilla and Melita to pack her belongings away. When Ptolemy left for Antioch he could take her jewelry, her lute and lyre, and some other momentoes back to Eleni. Her clothing would be pieced out to other women who needed it. He had kept a cameo with her profile and her writing case with some odds and ends from her dressing table. That was it. She was gone.

He clutched her pillow, taking stock of his life. He and Fadia had been married eight years. Their eldest, Little Cassius, was six. Twins Young Marcellus and Flavius were four. Little Gaius was two. Marcellus and Melita could not keep them forever. He would have to marry again. Most people did that more than once in their lives. Cassius knocked on his door and saw the lamp burning low on the empty dressing table.