She glanced across to the nearby Claudian tomb adorned with its boar’s head crest. The chance meeting of Drusus there had changed her life. The bronze weights she’d extorted from him paid for Mama’s body to be cremated instead of decaying on the Esquiline Hill. The urn that was now placed underground had been the last luxury Pinna could afford, though. She’d returned home from the funeral to discover she’d been robbed by a pimp. Her life as a whore in his brothel began.
She doubted she would ever forget those times. Fractured images of her mother as a lupa surfaced—body abused, mind lost, not knowing her own daughter at the end. Pinna closed her eyes, willing herself to conjure different glimpses of her—her tar-black hair twisted into a knot, her rough farmwife’s hands, her weathered face, and the softness of her smile. She longed to see her, to feel her embrace. It was hard to think of her milling below the ground with a thousand other Shades indistinguishable from each other. Pinna looked down at the grave. “May your ashes turn to fragrant flowers, Mama. May you forever be at peace among the Good Ones.”
Pinna delved into her basket again. She planned to remember Gnaeus Lollius today, too. Her fingers closed around a handful of black beans, food to appease a malevolent spirit—food for her father.
Winter always reminded her of him. Before Rome required men to fight all year, the change in season meant the return of Lollius to dwindling resources and hardship. His cold mood would mirror the weather. Yet, although he was a man of little affection, Pinna knew he loved her.
She and Mama never saw him again after he’d been forced into bondage. Pinna was anguished, wondering how he’d died. Had he been beaten to death when bound in chains? Had he suffered illness? Where had he been buried? In a trench among other paupers? Or had his body been burned and his ashes scattered to the wind? Had anyone kissed his lips to catch his last breath and so release his soul? She feared he was a wandering, vengeful spirit that she must always dread. For a ghost had one purpose—to punish those who’d wronged them or failed to grant succor after death. And so, as she laid the beans next to the flowers, she hoped her piety and prayers were enough to assuage him.
Conscious she still had much to do, she headed to the Aventine, hastening along the road to the fruit market, the night’s snowfall sullied by the ruts of cartwheels and animal droppings.
Someone grasped the edge of her basket. She halted and turned. Cauis Genucius stood there. It was the first time she’d been alone with him for two years. She’d been spared his presence in camp after he’d agreed to lead his army north to Falerii. And when he visited Camillus in Rome, she made sure to keep clear of him.
“What’s your hurry, Lollia?”
She’d forgotten how hairy and florid and heavy he was. His beard was bushy, covering the skin of his neck as well. She tried to dispel an image of him naked, covered with a thick black pelt. She glanced around to see if anyone was listening. “I’m called Pinna now.”
He directed her to the side of the road. “It worries me you’ve duped Furius Camillus into making you his de facto wife. It shows that even a clever man can be made a fool.”
She tried to pull the hamper away, but he held it fast. “I have not fooled him, my lord.” Yet again she tried to break free but he gripped the basket with both hands.
“When I chanced upon you naked in Camillus’s tent before the Battle of Blood and Hail, I was prepared to ignore a passing dalliance. But I respect him too much to let a whore run his household.”
She bridled. “I’m a citizen. Daughter of a soldier. There’s no disgrace in a nobleman having a concubine who once was poor.”
“You forfeited your citizenship the day you opened your legs for money. I’m going to find your name on the prostitutes’ roll and show it to him.”
Her pulse quickened. “Please, don’t tell him. Poverty led me to that life. There was no other choice.”
“Destitution is never an excuse for a freeborn woman to taint herself.”
His lack of sympathy sparked anger. “If you expose me, I’ll tell Lord Camillus the type of services you paid me for.”
He fixed his one eye on her, the socket of the other hidden by his eye patch. “I know he has little time for whoring, but he’s not going to worry about another soldier sleeping with a harlot. Besides, I’m sure he enjoys the fact you’re experienced. Why else would he keep you?”
She flinched. “It’s not the fact you had to pay that will disgust him. He’s nothing like you, my lord. I don’t knead his prick with my feet to excite him. And he would never use his tongue like you did—slobbering over me down there.” She lowered her gaze to her crotch, then raised her eyes to meet his. “He might overlook a man fucking a lupa, but a pervert? What kind of man . . . what kind of soldier does that to a woman?”
His cheeks flushed red above his beard. He let go of the basket, but thrust his disfigured face close to hers. “Ah, now that’s more like it. The slut from the gutter.” He pulled her shawl from her head. “No use pretending you’re decent, Pinna, with your hair covered and shoes on your feet. You should be bareheaded and barefoot in that lupanaria again.”
She gasped, astounded he would treat her so in public. She glanced around, worried who might see them but passersby seemed uninterested.
“Tell me, what about Appius Claudius Drusus and Marcus Aemilius Mamercus? What fetishes do they have that they keep hidden?”
She pressed her lips together.
Genucius dug his fingers into her forearm. “Tell me!”
She winced. His ability to expose the others alarmed her. She’d promised both officers she would remain silent. And now Marcus had been chosen as a military tribune at the recent elections. She did not want his reputation harmed. Genucius, too, had been successful. He was now one of the ten people’s tribunes. Mud would stick to him also. “All three of you have been tacit about me,” she said. “If you speak out, you’ll not only humiliate yourself but also discredit them. Do you want that on your conscience, my lord?”
He thrust her away. “You will never escape your past, Lollia. I wasn’t your only customer. There might be others who’ll recognize you, even though you no longer paint your face and your nipples.”
She tensed. It was true; she’d been fortunate not to have been detected since returning to Rome. Yet she now resided among the rich. Her customers had mainly been the lowlifes of the city. “We all must hope that doesn’t happen, musn’t we?”
Pinna lifted her shawl to cover her head again. Genucius did not move. “You think me weak. But some believe it’s best to satisfy bodily cravings with a whore. One thing I’ll never do is fall in love with a lupa.” He glanced around him, his voice taking on a different tone. “Furius Camillus is my friend. If you love him, Lollia, spare him. He’s destined for greatness—he can’t risk a scandal.”
She froze. His pleading distressed her more than his bullying.
He strode away, not waiting for her to reply.