The Saint's Mistress (13 page)

then removed the oil and the day’s dirt with a scraper. Then we progressed through the hot,

warm, and cool pools. I loved the cool pool the best, the frigidarium with its bright sea-themed

mosaics: Neptune driving his chariot, nymphs with wild, flowing hair like seaweed, and writhing

fish of bright colors. Adeo loved the fish, with their glittering glass tiles which made the fish

seem to swim when water flowed over them. This was my favorite time of day. The toddlers sat

in the shallows, crowing and flapping at the mosaic fish with their chubby arms, raising little

sprays of water, and I had other mothers to talk to. I learned from my new friends so much that I

desperately needed to know about babies: what soft foods to give him first, little rhymes to sing

to amuse him or send him to sleep, what herbs to use for fevers or vomiting or loose bowels.

I emerged from the baths on a windy spring afternoon when Adeo was not quite two years

old. I still carried him strapped to my back, but he was heavy and my back was already

complaining.

I was turning into a tavern to pick up some fish and fruit for our supper when I saw Aurelius

and Amicus striding toward me with their cloaks whirling and flapping in the breeze.

“Don’t worry about stopping for food. We have to get home right away,” Aurelius said.

Taking me by the elbow, he nudged me towards home, and I picked up his rapid pace.

“What’s the big hurry?” I asked.

“A magistrate will be coming to our apartment. You need to tell him Nebridius and Quintus

were with us last night.”

“I’m not lying for them.” After two years, I had still not forgiven Quintus and Nebridius for

tricking us on our first night in Carthage. They kept Aurelius out late many nights, and he often

came home reeling and slurring his words. I knew they still cheated the simple and the new to

town. They had gathered around them a group of younger students who were their accomplices.

The
eversores
they called their gang, the “overturners”, and they got their amusement from

making other people into fools, as they had Aurelius and me that first night. Amicus and

Aurelius swore that they had nothing to do with any of that, but still they sat up with Quintus and

Nebridius late into the night, tavern philosophers fueled by cheap, watered-down wine. Aside

from Amicus, Aurelius always seemed to choose the worst of companions, and we had had many

bitter, late-night arguments about it.

“I know you don’t like them,” Aurelius said now, “but, Leona, they’re in big trouble. We have

to help them.”

“They’re in big trouble, are they? Good. It’s about time. I hope it’s really, really big trouble. I

hope it’s the kind of trouble that gets them sent out of town.”

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“It is really, really big trouble.”

I still had no intention of lying for them, but now I was curious. I looked at Aurelius and

raised my eyebrows.

“A Greek merchant was found murdered in an alley by the docks. A taverner identified

Nebridius and Quintus as being in his tavern with him that night. “

“So maybe they killed him.”

“You know they wouldn’t do that.”

I had to admit that was probably true. Quintus and Nebridius were self-centered hooligans,

and laughable hypocrites with their talk about asceticism and their pious worship of the

Manichean elect, but I doubted they were killers.

“They could be sent into exile,” Amicus said.

“Oh, what a shame. They might be sent away. If they were plebs, they’d be crucified or sent

to the tin mines for less. My brother was put to death for carrying a club.”

“But, you couldn’t save him,” Aurelius pointed out. “You could save our friends. Don’t you

feel a little bit responsible for their fates?”

“Me? Me, responsible? How about them? I’d say they’re responsible. And, oh, then there’s

the little penalty for lying to a magistrate. I could only be scourged, that’s all. And, anyway,

they’re not my friends; they’re yours. Forget it. I’m not doing it.”

“No, of course you’re not responsible,” Aurelius agreed. “Absolutely right. But, you could

save them. Look at it as saving two lives. Leona, you know they didn’t do it.”

“They might as well have. I bet they were the ones who directed him to some dark alley

where he was bound to be robbed. They’ve done it before.” We turned the corner past the thick-

walled Christian Church of St. Felicity, with its permanent population of filthy beggars on the

steps.

“You might even help them to reform by saving them,” Amicus pointed out.

I snorted. “Why don’t you lie for them?”

“I was at a hearing last night. Many people saw me. You and Aurelius were at home with

Adeo. You can easily say that our friends were with you.”

“We’d have to say you were my wife, of course,” Aurelius went on. “As a pleb and a woman,

your statement would carry no weight.”

“So, I have to tell two lies.” But, it would not be hard to just leave the impression that

Aurelius and I were wed, and that I was therefore of the class of women whose word would be

taken as evidence in some cases. Since Adeo’s birth, I had begun wearing the stola of a Roman

matron, and even my friends at the baths assumed that I was of noble birth and Aurelius’ wife.

Strictly speaking, it was illegal for me to wear a stola, but almost no one here in Carthage knew

that I wasn’t a legal wife and the sartorial laws were little-enforced in this corner of the Empire

anyway.

“It’s not so much of a lie. We’re married in our hearts,” Aurelius said. This was an argument

that he had made to me before, but I knew what a vast difference there was between our situation

and a legal marriage and this worry was my only companion many nights when he was out late

with his friends. He could cast me aside at any time, to fend for myself and Adeo, or he could

cast me aside and keep my son from me. I thought for a second, and then stopped in the middle

of the street and looked at Aurelius.

“I won’t swear that I’m your wife, but if you will swear it, then I will say that Quintus and

Nebridius were with us last night.”

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Joy rose in his face like the sun. “I knew you’d do it.” He wrapped me in his big arms. “Oh,

Leona, thank you. I love you. You’ll see: Amicus is right. Those two rascals will reform after

this.”

The magistrate came to our apartment at supper time to question us.

“You are the wife of Aurelius Augustine?” he asked me.

I lowered my eyes, trying to look shy and cloistered.

“She is my wife, sir,” Aurelius confirmed.

He questioned us some more about whether our friends had been at our home the previous

evening, what hour they had arrived and departed, what we had done. In the end, the case came

down to the word of a taverner against the word of a young citizen and his wife, and the

magistrates in Carthage didn’t care much about a stranger from Greece. Quintus and Nebridius

were released, and came right to our apartment to shower us with their thanks. They swore that

they had learned a lesson, and would immediately cease being slaves to their evil material

natures. They would become ascetics, starting tomorrow, they said, as they drained the third of

the four flagons of watered-down wine they had brought with them.

Late in the evening, as they prepared to stagger home, Quintus leaned in, breathing wine

vapor into my face, and took my hands. “I owe you my life. I am forever in your debt,” he

declared.

It meant nothing to me at the time. I still hated him, with his long, droopy face and his hair

already thinning at 20, and his breath smelling of fish and wine. But I felt a sense of victory this

night. Aurelius had sworn in front of a magistrate that I was his wife. Surely this was the first

coin in a treasure that could be used to tie him to me and Adeo. I just had to figure out how to

add to it.

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A few evenings later, Amicus stopped on his way to a hearing, hoping to take Aurelius with

him.

“Out drinking with Quintus and Nebridius,” I told him. “You know, the two who were going

to reform and never drink again.”

Amicus smiled. “Their intentions are good.”

I snorted.

“Here, I brought a little sweet for Adeo,” he said, lifting our little boy onto his lap and

handing him a date-and-honey cake. Adeo leaned on Amicus’ chest, nibbling on the cake.

Aurelius’ other friends ignored Adeo, as if he were a small piece of furniture, but Amicus was as

tender as a woman, always bringing a sweet for our child, or ready to sing him a song or tell a

story.

“I don’t understand why you bother with those two devils,” I said.

Amicus shrugged. “If we could only love people who were completely worthy, we wouldn’t

love at all, would we?”

“Some are more worthy than others.”

“True,” he laughed. “True. I don’t know. I guess it’s their minds, truthfully. I know they seem

like apes to you, but you don’t see them at school. Quintus is a really brilliant man, Leona.

Nebridius maybe not so much, but he’s got a way with words and he really is good-natured at

heart. They’re young.”

“So are you. So is Aurelius.”

“They need some responsibilities and a good woman. They’ll be all right.”

Adeo finished his cake and started fidgeting. Amicus drew a ball of wax out of his pouch for

Adeo to play with.

“Talking of a good woman…” I began.

Amicus cocked his head and frowned.

I went on, “I was wondering about marriage among the Manichees.”

“Ask Sextus. He’ll know all about it.”

I worked a few hours a week as a scribe for Sextus, the Manichean priest, hoping to ingratiate

myself with him.

“I already tried that. I got a theoretical lecture about matter and light particles. What I really

want to know is…well, is there such a thing? Can two hearers be married by a Manichean

priest?”

Amicus looked at me warily. “Shouldn’t you be asking this question of the other potential

party to such a marriage?”

“I’m asking you.” I rose to clear our wooden plates from the table and briskly scraped the

leavings into my scrap bucket.

He sighed. “Yes, there is a marriage rite. The Manichees completely ignore the Empire’s

laws, and don’t even recognize civil marriage. But, I have to warn you, the Roman authorities

don’t recognize the Manichean rite, either. Such a marriage would be meaningless, Leona. From

a legal standpoint, it would be no different from what you have now.”

“Who can perform the rite?” I insisted.

“Any of the elect.”

“Sextus?” I returned to my seat at the table and gazed intently into Amicus’ eyes.

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“Sextus would probably do it, on the theory that it is better for two souls to be united by light

than by matter, but, Leona, truly, I think you should leave well enough alone. He loves you. I’m

an independent witness and I’ll swear to it.”

“I need to bind him to me. The marriage might not mean anything to the law, but it would

mean something to him. I have a child, Amicus. I will do whatever I can to make sure that I am

never separated from him.”

“How can you imagine that Aurelius would for a minute consider separating you from

Adeo?”

“But he
could
, Amicus, that’s the point. I don’t think he would, either, but he could.”

“Come here.” Amicus had one arm around Adeo, now dozing on his lap, and held his other

arm out to me. I rose and went to him.

He put his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “You have my word,” he said, “that,

should Aurelius become someone other than who I know him to be, should he turn away from

you and try to keep you from your child, I will defend you. I will make sure that you are taken

care of and have access to Adeo. You have my word on this. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“But, I’m still going to persuade him to marry me.” I had added another coin to my store of

treasure, and had plans to make another deposit as soon as I could.

One night a few weeks later, I rocked my torso forward and back, Adeo in my arms. His eyes

had flickered shut and his pulls on my breast had slowed. Soon it would be time to wean him and

I would miss the intimacy. I swayed for a few moments longer, making sure, then inched my

index finger between his rosebud lip and my brown nipple to break the suction. Adeo’s heavy

head fell back and his mouth fell open, breathing the waxy scent of my milk. I smiled down at

him, comparing his sack-of-grain heaviness now to his whirl of activity throughout the day:

careening across the floor on his sausage legs at the sight of his father coming in the door,

stretching for the table to reach for a knife and screeching with rage to find it out of his reach,

then instantly forgetting his frustration to intently stack the wooden blocks that Amicus had