Bato faithfully delivered Aurelius's letters to Fvlvia. Today was no different. At last, the girl had the chance to ask where the two young men had been roaming at night.
"We've been searching for a man named Maximus for days," he replied curtly.
He had no intention of getting drawn into a longer explanation. He had learned that it was always the talkative one who paid the price in the end.
Strange, Fvlvia thought.
The old, mad Maximus came to mind—and what he had said to her yesterday.
By then, Bato had already escaped Fvlvia's room to avoid further questions.
It can't be the same Maximus, she decided.
After that, she had no time to think about Maximus at all, because a scandal erupted.
She carefully untwisted the letter. She kept every single one. Aurelius was her betrothed. One day, these letters would have a place in their family library as relics.
She glanced at Aurelius's handwriting. First, she furrowed her brow in anger. Then she blushed in shame. Then she grew indignant once more.
My dearest betrothed!I long for your blood-red lips…
That much I can endure, the girl thought.
But what followed was so obscene that not even the boldest market vendor would dare say such things to his own wife.
Across four full pages, the letter described in meticulous detail exactly what Aurelius wished to do with Fvlvia after dinner tomorrow.
"No one speaks like this even to a meretrix," she complained to her mother.
She immediately took the letter and showed it to her. Tullia took it and showed it to Livius.
Livius then sent a long letter to Aurelius's parents, stipulating that the boy was not to cross the threshold of their house until he learned how to behave. He enclosed Aurelius's four-page work as well, so that his parents could study his style.
Of course, he first asked for the other letters, too, and read through those as well.
Fvlvia sought comfort with her sister.
♡
Aemilia listened indulgently—indeed, with exceptional patience—to her sister's complaints. Fvlvia did not repeat the contents of the letter aloud. Her sister almost immediately sensed the root of the problem.
"And yet she enjoys listening to Decimus's poems. She even has Bato copy her favorites."
Then they withdrew from the garden into Fvlvia's room, so that no one could see or hear them.
Naturally, the complaints became livelier there.
"The parents will smooth this over," Aemilia continued her line of thought.
She was certain that, in time, everyone would forget about this unpleasant letter.
Aemilia learned that Fvlvia had liked Aurelius's intelligent, reserved manner—but she could not imagine herself enduring any of what the letter described. Beyond cool, distant respect, she felt nothing toward her betrothed.
After the letter, even that cool distance remained.
"Your problem is that you don't want any of this," Aemilia said aloud, putting into words what her sister had not.
Fvlvia accepted the mulsum from Kyra with a grateful look.
"Yes," she answered simply.
She was calm now.
"Then you'll keep lovers alongside Aurelius," Kyra chimed in.
Aemilia was quietly amused by the ancilla's suggestion. Fvlvia was not scandalized—she merely shook her head with a faint smile.
"Even matrons do it," Kyra tried to defend her idea.
Kyra had an extensive network of acquaintances in the villas of the girls' friends. The ancillae certainly discussed household matters among themselves. That afternoon, the daughters of the gens Aemilius learned all of this as well.
"Do you like Ovid?" Fvlvia suddenly asked her sister.
They had never spoken of love before.
Aemilia spoke of her first kiss. Then Kyra entrusted them with her own secret that afternoon as well: she had liked Bato for a long time.
"And—have you already had your first kiss?" Aemilia asked lightly.
Kyra lowered her eyes.
"Bato has sworn never to approach a woman," she confessed cautiously.
"And why?" Fvlvia asked in surprise.
But Kyra kept Bato's secret.
"That is for him to tell," she replied quietly.
Malricus did not appear at dinner.
He's probably wandering somewhere with Bato, Fvlvia thought.
Livius and Tullia did not comment on the young man's absence.
He's surely being tactful, Livius thought. Letting the family talk after a day like this.
Later, after the house had grown quiet, Fvlvia draped her shawl over her shoulders.
She crept toward the young man's room.
First she cautiously peered through the doorway, but in the darkness she could not make out any shapes. She heard no sound from within.
She took two timid steps into the room. Then two more, a little more boldly.
Only then did she leave—just as quietly as she had arrived—after seeing that the young man was well, sleeping deeply and innocently in his bed.