The Lady Out of Time

21 - Regret

From the moment Augustus sent for his previous wife, Livia was on her guard, hackles raised and teeth bared. There was time to prepare herself before the woman ever reached Rome - there were a hundred and fifty miles between here and that island after all - but she knew she scarcely had more than a few weeks since the cursed night that Julia had shown up like a sudden disease.

Who could have known? Who could have thought? Livia gnashed her teeth as she watched the girl from the doorway to the sitting room, hands clenched in the pleats of her burgundy silk stola. That was her seat, she wanted to hiss. This sitting room was her favorite, it belonged to her. Not to the little lost girl who had stumbled her way home into undeserved luxury and comfort. The daughter of Augustus, how beautiful and charming and clever, they all said. What a waste that her disappearance had been all these years, and how much brighter not only home, but all of Rome would have been if she had been brought here from the very beginning.

A waste, they said. As if Julia the sharp-tongued demoness had had a place carved out for her right here since birth, as if it were only right that she be born into it instead of having earned it the way Livia had. What had Julia done with her life? Live on an island with her mother in unofficial exile, that was all. She didn't deserve the sympathy she got for having lived such a - hard life, they said. A hard life that no girl such as her deserved to suffer.

'Such as her.' So other woman did deserve that kind of wretched, low-class life? Other women - like her? No one had ever said such things to her even after she returned to Rome to marry Augustus -

Livia turned away from the entrance to the sitting room to find another one. She knew that the girl had seen her, that she had ignored the woman and pretended obliviousness expressly to insult her and avoid the customary greeting that she should have offered to the lady of the house. But that was just how the girl was, sneaky and rotten and full of every kind of poison. She shouldn't be here. She didn't deserve to be here.

That damned Scribonia, the b***h that plagued her every nightmare. She was supposed to have faded into obscurity by now, lost to the annals of history. It had been years since anyone dared to speak her name in Livia's presence, but now, she heard 'Scribonia, Scribonia' every day in the streets and within the walls of her own home. That worthless, fragile piece of refuse. How dare she do this, rise like a ghoul from the dust and ashes and haunt her?

This must have all been planned, Livia fumed. She shoved the table away with her sandaled foot in a fit of pique. Yes, this must all have been some scheme to gain pity and popularity for her daughter. No doubt Scribonia had somehow gotten news about Augustus searching for his daughter well ahead of time, and she had plotted a way to insert her little spawn into the emperor's eye for the utmost pomp and attention.

Ha! Did she think that Augustus would take her back if she garnered enough sympathy through her daughter? Not a chance. Livia would never let that happen, not in a thousand years. The gods could strike her down where she stood if she ever admitted defeat and became content to stand in the shadow of another woman, especially not the one her husband had rejected almost two decades ago.

That was right. Livia had nothing to worry about. She calmed herself with a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, willing her heart to stop hammering away in her chest. This wasn't good for her health, if she continued to waste so much anger on such an insignificant adversary. Scribonia - what was she to her? The ex-wife who had only survived a year of marriage to the emperor before being divorced the night her daughter was born. The wretched thing that had then been sent packing to Pandateria scarcely before the week was out, condemned to live there forevermore with her unwanted offspring.

Except that wasn't the truth at all: Scribonia hadn't been rejected. Scribonia had willingly agreed to a divorce and urged him to accept another wife, a more advantageous one. She had known well that her husband was in danger of losing both his power and his life in a terrible, tenuous game of politics and war against his rivals. Augustus, for his part, had begged her to stay until at least he saw his daughter born while they were still married, the one mercy he begged her to grant.

And she had. When she left for Pandateria against his continued pleas for more time, rumor was that she had left with a single kiss on his cheek and a swift goodbye, never to look back even once. Augustus, ever the serious and somber man, had been said to howl long into the night for hours afterward, grieving both the loss of his beloved soulmate and the daughter that he had only had time to give but a name, and little else: Julia, after his grandmother.

Livia gnawed on her fingernails, goosebumps rising all over her skin as if she'd been pierced through by an arctic wind. Scribonia, Scribonia. She had rested easy all these years thinking that the name was long gone, as was the woman, that she would never be able to return to threaten the life that Livia had suffered so much to obtain.

And now she was on her way back to Rome after nearly twenty years...returning to haunt her in life as she had done in her dreams.

* * * * *

"She's coming -"

"She's here -!"

"Oh, gods, I can't believe it, is she really as beautiful as the stories say?"

Livia wanted to tear out the hair of every gossiping servant in the house. She would have, too, if only she didn't have to deal with the absence of slaves to serve at her every whim afterward. Her hands balled into fists at her sides again when she saw them fall silent upon seeing her in the hallway. Why? Why were they so quiet now? Did they think she would be offended, frightened? Threatened by the arrival of some - some aged, wrinkled woman twenty years past her prime?

Ha! Never. Scribonia might have been called the most beautiful woman in all of Rome two decades ago, but living in the ugly island conditions, working hard with her hands like some kind of manual laborer, like a slave - she would be wrinkled and sunburned and nothing more than a wizened old grandmother now. Sure, she was only supposed to be a few years older than Livia herself, but the difference was that she wouldn't have been able to keep up a flawless skin care regimen in exile. Neither would she have any access to the best make up that Livia never accepted anything less than.

Yes, Livia thought as she waited at the entrance of the villa with two male slaves. There was nothing to worry about. Scribonia would be old and ugly with a cracked voice and rough hands, not nearly enough to tempt her ex-husband back to her side -

She nearly choked at the sight of the woman that glided out of the carriage. She wore a simple white tunic dress that flowed down to her ankles, with dark brown tresses that billowed in the passing breeze, and green, green eyes that were near-identical to Julia's. She brushed her hair back behind her ear and bowed her head as Livia stared open-mouthed at the vision before her.

"Your Ladyship. It's an honor to meet you."

She couldn't speak for a moment as every one of her thoughts curdled in her throat, her mind. Was this what they had all meant when they called Scribonia the First Beauty of Rome? She looked -

"Please, my daughter?"

Oh, gods. She couldn't even string together a sentence now, and all the sharp, cruel words she had prepared had flown out of her head. All she could do was bow her head back - not as low, of course - and motion for the woman to enter through the villa's facade.

Augustus was nearly here, too. Livia scrambled to think of ways to keep them apart, perhaps send someone to delay him until she sent Scribonia away again. Surely she could do that - she was the emperor's wife, after all! Augustus wouldn't choose his previous dalliance over her. No, never. She just had to keep them away from each other somehow. Somehow -

"So how was your stay at the island?" she asked, pitching her voice in a terribly sweet tone when she brought her inside to sit on a padded bench. "It can't have been easy, you poor thing."

The woman gave her a gentle smile. "I thank the gods that I am alive, and now my daughter, too. That is enough for me."

"Oh, speaking of your daughter. I'm sure you'll insist on taking her with you when you return to Pandateria, which I understand completely. A girl without her mother is a pitiful thing."

"She is a smart, clever girl. I'm grateful that you've done all you have to keep her safe in the meantime."

"Oh, of course!" Ah, now was her chance! Livia clawed at the millions of cruel things to say that she had prepared over the last few weeks, gathering them up as if they were spilled gems. Yes, yes - "We have all the best here. She wanted for absolutely nothing. Oh! Though I suppose you know better than I would about all the luxuries of living in a place like this." She pretended to let slip an embarrassed laugh as if it had been an accident, a slip of the tongue. "Oh, goodness. Please forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Your Ladyship. I wish you even greater comforts than these in the coming days."

"Of course, of course. Augustus never fails to lavish every expensive, gaudy thing on me. I tell him no, no, over and over again, but - ah! Sister, I'm so glad I have someone to vent my frustrations to about him, to be honest. You know how bad his habits of spoiling are. It's honestly a burden, but I can't bear to tell him to stop lest I hurt him..."

"I think that is a burden you've experienced alone, madam. Augustus must love you very much."

No matter what Livia said, Scribonia's smile persisted. And all of her replies, every return to her barb was as innocent and calm as a blooming rose -

"Will my daughter be here soon?"

She swallowed back the next half-formed, veiled insult that had been waiting in her throat. "Of course," she said. "Any second now."

As if on cue, one of the slaves announced Julia's arrival. Dressed in a white and red stola, she stepped into view, pausing for a second before approaching them. Scribonia rushed over to meet her in a flurry of steps, enfolding her in her arms as Livia resisted the urge to scoff and roll her eyes at the undignified sight. The way she carried on, anyone would think they had been separated for a hundred years rather than a few measly months. Patting the girl's hair that way, caressing her face like she was some kind of treasured jewel -

- until suddenly, Livia saw both women freeze as they stared into each other's eyes. She glanced from one to the other, confused by the sudden chill that seemed to envelop them both. She was wondering, too, why the girl was so silent all the while, when the arrival of someone else interrupted them all.

In silence, Augustus strode across the hall and took Scribonia's hands. Livia nearly had a seizure on the spot - how dare another woman allow herself to be touched so intimately by someone else's husband!

"I'm sorry I was away. I hurried back as quickly as I could, but the council meeting ran over -"

"That's alright. You shouldn't have rushed for me."

Exactly, Livia snarled inwardly. Not for her, that...that shoddy b***h who thought she was so much better than everyone else, acting angelic and perfect to try to lure the emperor back to her. But that wouldn't be happening, not today -

"Stay for dinner," he said. "It's late, and you must be exhausted. My men told me that you came with all haste. And Julia must have missed you dearly. You can't leave so soon?"

"I must."

"Scribonia -"

"I have duties to tend to," she said softly. "There are others on the island caring for my chickens. You'd love them, they're very cheeky."

They chuckled between themselves, and Livia thought she was going to explode or burn up or - or take the short sword that hung on the nearby guard's hip and sever the woman's head from her neck. How dare she laugh so coyly with him! Did she not know whose house she stood in? Did she not know how shamefully she had been supplanted, replaced? She was nothing here, nothing, just an insect to squash underfoot.

But she said nothing, knowing that any word she might try to say would go unheard by her distracted husband. Her ears flamed red in humiliation as Augustus squeezed Scribonia's hands.

"Julia." The woman turned to look at her daughter, but there was a strange, faraway look in her eyes suddenly. She looked - sad, pained. Well, damn. It must be because she didn't want to leave her daughter behind. If only she would just take her and leave together, leave everyone else in peace! "Julia, come here."

Augustus removed his hands so that she could take Julia's instead, but again, there was something strange in the way that Scribonia moved. A slow raise of her hand, a long, gentle finger that traced the girl's eyebrows, nose, lips, her chin.

"Be good," said the woman, her voice even quieter than before. And again, that piercing sadness. It was almost enough to make Livia's heart soften, but not quite. "Be good...Please. Stay well, and...take care of your health."

Those halting words. Why did she sound so devastated? Ha. If she was trying to get sympathy and permission to stay so that she wouldn't be parted from Julia, she was sadly mistaken. Back to Pandateria she would go. Livia would accept nothing less. She would rather flay herself alive than allow her husband's previous flame to stay in the same city, much less the same land. Exile, back to exile, never to be seen again -

The way the woman rushed off with hasty goodbyes, however, made Livia narrow her eyes. What in the world? Wasn't she going to linger and try to press the advantage, ply Augustus with futile pleas to allow her to stay with her daughter? Why was she nearly running off? Those glistening eyes were almost sad enough to fool even her; it was surprising that the woman seemed to want to leave so badly.

Augustus failed to persuade her to stay even though he escorted her all the way to the villa's exit, entreating her dozens of times to stay the night. And every time, Scribonia declined until she bowed her head to the emperor and climbed back into the carriage. Julia stood there too, but she seemed strangely quiet for a girl whose mother was carting herself away for possibly all time. And - what was that guilty expression on her face?

Augustus's next action stole Livia's attention away, however.

"Send soldiers with her," he murmured to one of his guards. "She is to be protected by a full retinue from here until she reaches the island. Send a dozen men. Two dozen. If pirates are still sailing off the coast, then..."

No. No -

No!

His wife was standing right beside him, and yet he looked at another woman with those selfish, longing eyes that anyone from a thousand miles around could recognize with a single glance. Look at me, she wanted to snarl. Me! The woman worth ten of her, a hundred, a thousand! How dare he think to protect some used wench that he should have thrown over almost two decades ago, how dare he yearn for her as if he hadn't taken another wife far superior?

This...this was all Julia's fault. That little b***h. She had come crawling into her father's life, greedily reaching with her crabbed claws for things she didn't deserve. Who did she think she was? Did she think royal blood was all that was necessary to climb to power, to riches? Did she think that she belonged here, trying to cast a wicked, twisted shadow in the house of the emperor and crush everyone else underfoot?

Never. She would never allow it. Would never allow such a pathetic little girl to come stumbling into a grown woman's dresses and try one of them on, tripping over a too-long hem as she strutted around and pretended to be one of them. Disgusting little street rat, she should have been content with the life of a slave after being captured by pirates, or whatever her little story was.

Because now, Livia would make her regret reaching for the stars. The girl would never touch them, to be sure, but even so - such pride and vanity had to be punished. And if there was anything that Livia was good at, it was hurting anyone who got in her way.

Scribonia? She was nothing. She had been nothing for a long time now and didn't deserve the privilege of being the target of her wrath. Oh, no. From now on, she would set her sights on more satisfying prey.

From the cobbled roadside, Julia suddenly turned her head and met her glare, but the girl had the gall to hold her gaze instead of cowering.

Fine. Be brave now, little girl, thought Livia.

Because one day, she would make her regret it.