Defying Vesuvius

Chapter 3 - Aeliana

Pompeii

One year before the eruption

"My darling girl!" Papa rested a heavy hand on my shoulder as Aurelia and I walked through the front door of our house, the familiar scent of wine and bitter grapes enveloping us like a second skin. Though he smiled, he leaned down and murmured in his deep voice into my ear. "You're late."

"Sorry, Papa. It won't happen again."

"I should think not. I raised you better than this, and on such an important day, as well!"

"I'll do better, I promise."

Satisfied, he nodded, then knelt down and ruffled Aurelia's hair. "Did you have fun with your sister, carissima?"

Aurelia nodded, tight blond curls bouncing. "Yes, Papa. There were so many people! And vendors! And actors performing in the street!" She danced on her toes, blue eyes which were so similar to our mother's wide with excitement.

Papa laughed. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now, Aeliana," he stood up and fixed me with a stern stare, as if saying You'd better not mess this up for us. "I have someone I would like you to meet."

"Your husband," Aurelia singsonged in her high voice. She giggled and I flicked one of her curls.

"Get out of here, silly. Shouldn't you be getting ready for bed?"

She turned her blue eyes on Papa, fixing him with a puppy-dog stare that she knew he could never resist. "Do I have to, Papa?"

He sighed. "Go find Luciana. I'm sure she'd enjoy telling you a story before bed."

She perked up and ran from the room, her triumphant laugh following her through the hallway. She'd had him wrapped around her finger since she first batted her baby blues.

He turned to me. "Ready, carissima?" I took a deep breath and nodded, resting my hand on the inside of Papa's elbow as he led me into the sitting room.

A man lounged on one of the large luxurious cushions, sipping from a silver goblet of wine. When we entered, he stood up and bowed his head in respect to me. I returned it with a small, polite smile, smoothing the folds of my skirt nervously. Papa patted my hand and led me to the cushion across from the man whom I was supposed to marry, strategically seating me on the gray cushion to bring out the stormy color of my eyes. I smiled in gratitude to Papa while he sat, reminding myself not to speak unless spoken to. While it wasn't a strict rule, it was always best to err on the side of caution when meeting a powerful man for the first time.

I studied the man—my future fiancé—as he spoke with my father, my heart racing in my chest. He was much older than I—maybe in his forties, while I had yet to turn seventeen—but he wasn't bad-looking. Quite the contrary. He had thick black hair that had yet begun to gray, and his matching black eyes were sharp and intelligent. His white tunic was crisp and clean, a show of his upper-class rank, and his black beard was trimmed close to his face. Papa had told me he had been a successful merchant in Rome before he moved to Pompeii a little over a year ago, after his first wife passed away.

"I see what you have told me of your daughter is accurate, Lucanus. She is quite lovely. A prize to be treasured." The man nodded to me and I shifted slightly on the cushion, holding my gaze on the central table.

"I am glad you are pleased, Marcellus," Papa said, his smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. I kept my eyes downcast and my spine ramrod straight, accustomed to being on display in front of all of Papa's rich friends.

"Does she cook?" He directed the question to Papa, and I fought to keep my expression neutral.

Do I cook? I wanted to scoff. Papa had provided both Aurelia and me with top-notch tutors. I was fluent in both Latin and Greek, studied mathematics and the science of wine-making in my father's vineyard, even accounted for his finances when he was busy with the autumn harvest. None of this I could tell him, though. Being a well-educated woman was not necessarily a desirable trait in Roman marriages. A wife was meant to serve her husband, and she could not attend to him completely with her head full of literature and politics.

Or so it was claimed.

"She does. Our head household slave, Luciana, has taught her well in her mother's absence."

I could feel Marcellus's gaze on me and I peered up at him through my lashes.

"Look at me, Aeliana," he said gently. When my gaze met his he smiled. "Do not fear me. That will not do if we are to be married one day."

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Please, call me Marcellus." His eyes softened and my racing heart calmed, if only a bit. He turned to Papa. "I believe she will make a wonderful wife."

He tried not to show it, but I could tell that this was a huge weight off Papa's shoulders. His posture loosened and he gestured to a passing slave to bring more wine. "I agree. What are your thoughts on the engagement?"

Marcellus nodded his thanks as a slave refilled his drink and handed a glass to Papa and me. He scratched his beard in thought. "I would prefer to be wed sooner rather than later, but due to the condition of my estate," he said, "I am afraid it will have to be postponed until the remainder of my affairs is brought from Rome. Do you find that agreeable, Aeliana?"

I tried not to nod too enthusiastically. I knew my duty to my father, but to say I wasn't looking forward to marrying a complete stranger was possibly the understatement of the century.

"Use your words," Papa chided me, but Marcellus waved it off.

"Not to worry, Lucanus. It is the duty of a woman to know when to use her words and when to remain silent. I understand this is a big step, Aeliana, and you have a lot to consider. But please know," his voice softened and he leaned forward in his seat, "that I intend to treat you as well as I know how, and you will want for nothing while I am with you."

"Thank you," I answered shyly. "That—that is very noble of you, sir—Marcellus."

Papa watched the whole exchange with pride shining in his eyes, and the flutters in my stomach calmed knowing that I was making him proud. He had struggled to raise Aurelia and me after our mother died a month after giving birth and he had never married since, claiming he could never love another woman like he had loved her. I hated seeing him with the sadness he carried every day since she had died, and I always did my best to ease his burden.

After finishing our wine and ironing out a few more details of the engagement, Papa and I walked Marcellus to the door. He thanked Papa for his hospitality and turned to me, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. I shivered, but not from cold. In my mind's eye, sapphire eyes flashed as he bowed respectfully to me, lips twitching upward in a conspiratorial grin. Just that image was enough to make me blush, and I clutched the bulla pendant under my tunic, rubbing my thumb on the smooth gold backing. The small metal pendant hung on a cord around my neck, hidden just out of sight under the neckline of my tunic. The amulet was said to protect children from evil, and I would wear it from the day I was born until the eve of my marriage.

"I look forward to getting to know you, Aeliana," Marcellus said.

"And I you."

* * *

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