Malricus had not even noticed how much time he had spent planning the display of his mental strength. He fully agreed with Bato. It was time to prepare his appearance for the evening as well.
Bato immediately ran off.
He returned with a solemn expression, carrying a large bowl of hot water and a decorative piece of fabric to be used as a towel. It was obvious that careful hands had sewn it, with great attention and patience.
There was no longer time to go to the public baths.
Bato ran off once more. This time he returned with a ceremonial toga.
"This might be an exaggeration," the young man thought.
"The lady of the house sent the toga," Bato said. "She sends word that you should wear it with good fortune. It carries the blessing of the goddess Fortuna."
There was nothing to be done; he had to put on the ceremonial toga. Even if he made a fool of himself by being overdressed, he could not insult Lady Tullia.
After all, Malricus had gone to Fvlvia's mother for advice. The woman had seen how much he wanted to make a good impression this evening. Along with her afternoon advice, she had sent a beautiful festive toga so that the young man would indeed leave a good impression—moreover, accompanied by the blessing of the goddess Fortuna.
"If the goddess Fortuna helps my plans with Fvlvia, perhaps I will return to the gods myself," he thought.
He did not take a single word of that seriously.
Bato, of course, ran off again. He returned quickly, and Malricus did not understand why the servant's face had become so mysterious.
"I went to Livius and asked for his finest scented oil," he announced, "the kind that distant merchants bring to Rome along dangerous routes."
Malricus burst out laughing.
The fact that he would finally appear among patrician circles had turned the entire family villa upside down. He had not expected it of Bato, but he too had been swept up in it.
Of course, Malricus was grateful for the helpfulness and kindness surrounding him.
"Who told you about those dangerous routes?" he asked.
He was surprised that Bato had believed such nonsense. Trade routes were as safe as they could possibly be—except when the sea was stormy.
He thought of his grandfather, who was rumored to have been lost at sea.
Surrounded by so much kindness, Malricus no longer felt his grandfather's good deed as a burden. His grandfather truly had been a hero—from a human point of view. As a demon, it earned him only a stigma.
He thought of Livius, Tullia, Aemilia—but most of all, Fvlvia. This was the family his grandfather had saved. He had accepted the stigma for them. Perhaps he had truly perished at sea before he had to bear the shame of that mark.
Bato lowered his eyes when he realized he had said something foolish.
Malricus did not pursue the topic. He took the small jar from Bato and thanked him.
He would not use it, but such attention and effort deserved gratitude.
"The girls say you'll meet in the atrium," Bato said, completing one last errand before leaving Malricus alone that late afternoon to finish preparing in peace.
♡︎
The young orator reached the atrium first.
"Perhaps I'm overdressed for the occasion and will make a fool of myself," he worried.
That was the last thing he wanted in front of Fvlvia.
When he saw the elegantly dressed—one might say elaborately adorned—girls, he gave thanks to Tullia for gifting him the ornate toga.
His earlier worry vanished without a trace, and he stood proudly in his ceremonial garment.
When the two girls took his arms from either side, he would not have traded his day for that of the ancient gods themselves.
It was not a real touch, not the kind the young orator had long desired, but never before had he felt Fvlvia so close, for so long. For now, that was enough.
Just for now.
In the litter, he sat between the two girls.
Too close to Fvlvia.
Not close enough to Fvlvia.
He sat close enough that he ended up sitting on Fvlvia's tunic. Then, when they arrived at Claudia's, he would rise first, and Fvlvia would not even notice the impropriety.
Fvlvia gazed out through the window of the litter as if she were traveling by lectica to Claudia's villa for the first time in the evening.
"What do you think Malricus will make of the place?"
The young man, however, was not looking at the Palatine. Here, he did not have to fear the disapproving, stern gaze of Livius and Tullia. He turned his head at just the right angle so that Aemilia would not see exactly what he was looking at. At last, in the safety of the lectica's half-light, Malricus allowed his gaze to roam over Fvlvia in peace.
The girl looked back at him too quickly. Perhaps she wanted to ask something.
Malricus could not tear his eyes away. Had it been another girl, he would not have been embarrassed.
Fvlvia caught him staring at her.
"Well then!" Malricus rejoiced inwardly. "The little one's gaze has changed."
He knew this reaction well.
The girl looks at him, straight into his eyes, and then her gaze softens.
Malricus's embarrassment faded. Their gazes locked together.
Perhaps, if Aemilia were not here, Fvlvia would not reject a kiss.
Who would look away first? If it did not become a kiss, such a moment would surely remain awkward.
Fortunately, a torch-bearing procession approached from the opposite direction. Fvlvia leaned out to see who it was.
"Decimus, the poet, usually comes to Claudia's with two well-built plebeians," she said. "You know—the poet lives in the Subura."
Malricus knew what the Subura was like. He had spent several nights there searching for Maximus after dark.
He did not want to speak of Maximus with the girl now. Malricus wanted something else.
He pretended to be interested in the escort.
He leaned slightly toward the window—just enough for his arm to brush gently against hers.
Fvlvia did not pull away. She continued explaining, light-hearted and at ease.
"Later, the torch-bearing escort will follow Decimus to Claudia's villa."
Such insignificant chatter. And yet Malricus would not have traded this moment with anyone.