Atia raised her hand swiftly and he backed away, guffawing and pointing at the humiliated figure that still clung to her skirt.
“I'll give your little Thurinus a belting myself if I see him anywhere near the shop. See if I don't.”
Atia flushed with anger and took a step forward, giving them the excuse they wanted to run off, calling back insults as they scattered.
Alexandria stood by the pair, wondering if she should just walk away. The scene she had witnessed was none of her business, but she was curious to see what would happen now the mother was alone with her rascal of a son.
The little boy sniveled and rubbed his nose gingerly. “I'm sorry, Mam. I just thought you would be pleased. I didn't think they would follow me all the way back here.”
“You never think. If your father was alive, he'd be ashamed of you, boy. He would tell you we never steal and we never lie. Then he would warm your backside properly with his strap, which I should do myself.”
The boy struggled to get away, kicking out at her as he found his arm held firmly.
“He was a money changer. You say they're all thieves, so he must have been too.”
“Don't you dare say that!” Atia said through whitened lips. Without waiting for a response, she upended the boy on her knee and smacked him hard, six times. He struggled through the first three and lay silently still for the last. When she put him down, he skittered around the two women, pelting down the narrow street and disappearing around the nearest corner.
Atia sighed as she watched him run. Alexandria clasped her hands together nervously, embarrassed to have witnessed such a private moment. Atia seemed to remember her suddenly and flushed as she met her eye.
“I'm sorry. He is always stealing and I can't seem to make him understand not to do it. He's always caught, but the next week he tries again.”
“Is his name Thurinus?” Alexandria asked.
The woman shook her head. “No. They call him that because the family moved to the city from Thurin. It's an insulting nickname they have for him, but he seems to like it. His given name is Octavian, after his father. Little terror. Only nine years old, but more at home on the streets than in his own house. I do worry about him.” She glanced at Alexandria, taking in the clothes and brooch properly.
“I shouldn't be bothering you with our troubles, miss. I don't mind admitting we could use the rent for the room. He wouldn't steal from you, and if he did I'd give it straight back, on my family's honor. You wouldn't know it, but there's good blood in his veins, Octavii and Caesar, if the little bugger would only realize it.”
“Caesar?” Alexandria said sharply. The woman nodded.
“His grandmother was a Caesar, before she married into my family. No doubt she'd weep if she saw him steal meat from a butcher not three streets away. I mean, it's not as if they don't know his face! They'll break his arms if he does it again, and where will I be then?” Tears spilled from her eyes and, without thinking, Alexandria stepped forward to put an arm around her.
“Let's go inside. I think I will take that room of yours.”
The woman straightened and glared at her. “I don't want charity. We get by and the boy will learn in time.”
“It's not charity. Yours is the first clean room I have seen and I used to… work for a Caesar a few years ago. Could be the same family. We're almost relations.”
The woman wiped her eyes with the cloth, producing it again from where it made a lump in her sleeve.
“Are you hungry?” she said, smiling.
Alexandria thought of the small pile of vegetables that waited to be chopped.
“I've already eaten. I'll pay you for the first month and then go back to where I'm staying and collect my things. It's not far off.”
If she walked quickly and didn't dawdle at Tabbic's, Alexandria thought, she could make it back to her new home before dark. Perhaps by then they would have been able to buy a little meat with her rent.
The senators shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It had been a long session and many of them had reached the point where they were ignoring the complications of the arguments and simply voting whichever way they had agreed earlier.
With the evening shadows lengthening, torches were lit using tapers on long poles. The glow of the small flames was reflected in the polished white marble walls, and the air filled with the soft smell of scented oil. A large number of the three hundred senators who had gathered that morning had already left, letting the last few votes pass without their presence.
Crassus smiled to himself, having made sure his own supporters would remain until the torches were snuffed and the long day reached its official conclusion with the prayer for the safety of the city. He listened intently to the list of appointments, waiting for the one he and Pompey had included to be brought to the vote. Almost unwillingly, his eyes strayed to the legion list, cut into the white marble. Where Primigenia had been inscribed, there was now a blank space. It would be pleasing to undo another small piece of Sulla's legacy, even if he hadn't been asked to by his old friend.
At this thought, he looked across at Cinna and their eyes met for a moment. Cinna nodded to the legion list and smiled. Crassus returned the smile, noting his friend's whitening hair. Surely Servilia could not favor such a winter father over himself? Just the thought of her stirred his blood, making him miss the end of a section in reminiscence. He watched the way Cinna voted and then raised his own hand with him.
More of the Senate rose, excusing themselves quietly, heading for homes and mistresses all over the city. Crassus watched Cato heave his bulk out of his seat. The man had been close to Sulla and it would sting him to miss the vote to come. Crassus tried not to let his face show his pleasure as they drew close and passed him, deep in discussion. It would be easier with them gone, but even with every Sullan in the building, he doubted if Cinna, Pompey, and himself could not force it through in their teeth. Restoring Primigenia would infuriate them. He reminded himself to thank Servilia for the idea when they next met. Perhaps a small gift to show his appreciation.
Pompey rose to answer a question concerning the new commander of a legion in Greece. He spoke with an engaging confidence of the new names, recommending them to the Senate. Crassus had heard there was another rebellion, and the losses meant chances for friends and relatives of the men in the Senate hall. He shook his head sadly, remembering the day when Marius had forced a vote that took Sulla away from Rome to put Mithridates down the first time. If Marius were here now, he would make them look up from their feet and do something about it! Instead, these fools argued and discussed the days away, when they should have been diverting a couple of the precious legions to shore up the Greek ones.
Crassus smiled wryly as he realized he was one of the fools he criticized. The last rebellion had led to civil war and a Dictator. Not one of the generals in the room dared put himself forward for fear of the others uniting against him. They did not want another Sulla and nothing was done as a result. Even Pompey waited and he was almost as impetuous as Marius himself. It would be suicidal to volunteer as Marius and Sulla had. There was too much spite and envy to let any one of their number have a victory over Mithridates. Sulla's fault, for letting him go free the first time. The man couldn't do anything right.
Pompey sat down and the vote was passed quickly, leaving only the last item of the day's business, proposed by Crassus and seconded by Pompey. They had kept Cinna's name out of the records at that point, as there were rumors he had been involved in Sulla's poisoning. Baseless, of course, but no one could stop the gossipmongers of Rome plying their trade.