1x09: The Embers of Alexandria (2/7)
Title: The Embers of Alexandria (2/7)
Author: principia_coh
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: Waylaid en route to a holiday, the Doctor and Rose encounter unexpected wonders... and new dangers.
Author’s notes: Thanks to ginamak and leighleighla for their excellent and patient beta work!
Episode 9 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following The Wretched Hive last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
Part 1
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The Doctor’s brows shot up and he smiled stiffly at Rose. He hesitated for just a moment, then belted out, “Ah, yes, good old Alexandria!”
“Old, indeed. Not as old as Rome, of course, but the city was founded just over 400 years ago by the agents of Alexander the Great. Since it is 83,” Caecilius explained, seeming to do sums in his head, “that means that Egypt has been part of the Empire for 113 years or so now.”
Alexandria. In 83. Rose winced; the Doctor rolled his eyes and shook his head, still smiling.
Rose remembered reading about the Great Library in school, but her experience with the Library’s architecture had been limited to watching over Mickey’s shoulder as one of his videogames showed a short scene of it being built, in what Rose had presumed was a not particularly authentic way. It would be interesting to see how wildly inaccurate that artist’s interpretation had been; for starters, she didn’t remember anything about the Library getting expansions built. But then again, that was a whole different world.
She smiled to herself as Caecilius got their review underway. He was taking pains at first to point out everything carefully and slowly for her benefit. Given the detour, she was doubly glad she’d decided to go for the pedal-pushers and flats. This outfit the locals could write off as the eccentric choices of a foreigner from distant lands; she wasn’t sure she could’ve gotten away with a ra-ra skirt and court shoes.
The Doctor seemed unconcerned with their surroundings, but Rose kept a sharp eye out. She was wary enough on a good day; the lessons ingrained over the past several years had left her a little paranoid, even when they were supposedly safe or alone. Especially then. That they’d just had another unexpected detour in the TARDIS was setting her teeth right on edge. She counted numerous potential exits along the way, and started to relax a bit as it became clear the Doctor and Caecilius were going to keep getting on famously.
From the looks the Doctor kept shooting her, she had the strong sense that there was something about this Caecilius fellow that the Doctor wasn’t telling her, or hadn’t had the chance to, more like. As they walked, Caecilius and the Doctor had continued with their chatting, comparing notes on everything from the quality of marble near Rome versus here in Alexandria to the plans for the new wings of the Library.
Rose inhaled deeply, hoping to catch a whiff of whatever it was that had originally tipped the Doctor off. Even here in this incomplete section, the grassy smell of what she guessed was papyrus floated through the air, and something else-probably whatever they were burning in lamps, or maybe fresh ink. Caecilius was right, there didn’t seem to be much going on in this part of the Library right now. As they passed by one of the eaves, Rose spotted a pair of toga-wearing types talking quietly. They certainly didn’t look like construction workers, Roman or otherwise. One of them looked at the Doctor briefly, wide-eyed, then returned his attention to his comrade.
Rose waited for a break in the conversation. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Oh, Caecilius will do.” their host assured her.
“Caecilius. I thought you’d said there wasn’t any activity in this part of the expansion right now?”
The Doctor looked back at Rose with a vaguely impressed expression. That meant he’d seen them too.
“That’s correct, there isn’t.”
“I thought I saw a few men looking over some scrolls just back there,” she ventured casually.
“Most likely a couple of visiting scholars who got turned around. Or the staff nosing about, seeing where the various offices are going in, discussing who’s going where, that sort of thing.” If this was cause for concern, Caecilius wasn’t showing any sign of it.
“And here would be where this wing will meet the heart of the Library once work has been completed. I must excuse myself for a moment so I can send word to my household to expect guests. Shall we meet again outside?”
“Sounds like a plan,” the Doctor replied.
Rose watched as Caecilius hustled away in search of a messenger. The Doctor waved and smiled until Caecilius was out of view, then spun on his heels to face Rose. He grabbed her hands and grasped them tightly, gazing into her eyes with a panicky mix of earnest excitement and pure adrenaline-she could almost feel his pulse pounding in her hands, and he was starting to look a little clammy.
“The Great Library of Alexandria? Who would’ve guessed?” he said, a bit too brightly.
“Doctor, what’s wrong? Who was that man?”
“What, him? Lobus Caecilius, the premiere marble merchant of Alexandria.” The Doctor finished with a nervous little chuckle and looked away. He dropped her hands and gestured expansively out into the great room before them. “The Great Library of Alexandria, in all her ever-expanding glory. Isn’t this spectacular?”
“You know him.” Rose countered steadily.
“Yes,” the Doctor admitted uneasily, “I do. Or did. Before. Met him-the other him-the once, in Pompeii. The other Pompeii.”
“With Martha?”
He shook his head. “No, not with Martha.”
“With Donna?” she prodded gently.
“Yeah,” he said softly.
And he obviously didn’t want to talk about it.
“Okay.” She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“That was not a good day,” he said hoarsely.
Rose lifted his hand to her mouth, and lightly kissed his knuckles, stroking his fingers with her thumb. “But today’s going to be better, yeah?”
“Course it is,” he sighed.
Rose stood quietly at the Doctor’s side, letting him have the time to gather his thoughts. After a few quiet moments the Doctor gave her a reluctant smile. “Ready to move on, then?” he asked.
Rose nodded, then let him guide her out into the afternoon sun.
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“Guests? Now? Would it have thrown your schedule into disarray to have told me sooner?”
Lobus Caecilius stood before his wife in the dining room of their city home, wringing his hands, trying not to glance to Quintus for assistance with his mother. “Metella, my love, I did try to send word ahead with Maro.”
“I did get word from Maro,” she hooted, “only just before you arrived.”
“It’s an inspection from Rome, dearest,” Lobus pleaded, “we know how long that journey can be.”
“Three weeks against the wind of you heaving into Our Sea. How could I forget?”
“They’re out in the atrium, darling. Dorsuo is seeing to them.”
“If they’ve only just arrived, do you know if they’ve even settled in to their accommodations yet?”
“By all appearances... no.”
Metella paced from seat to seat, indignantly fluffing pillows and remaining uncharacteristically silent. Lobus cast an exasperated glance to his son, who shrugged.
“I could hardly leave them to fend for themselves in the marketplace, Metella,” Lobus stated firmly.
“They’re here now,” she relented, finally looking back at her husband, “and I’ll certainly present them our best hospitality. But a little warning next time would be appreciated!”
“Yes, my love, of course,” Lobus responded, his head ducked apologetically.
Metella turned to their son, who stood patiently in the doorway. “Quintus, be a dear and don’t leave our guests with only Dorsuo for company. Your father and I have arrangements to take care of, so if you could see to our visitors it would be very helpful.”
“Of course, mother.” Quintus bowed slightly and turned to go.
As he left the sight of his parents, Quintus Caecilius smiled to himself. He might never stop wondering at the partnership his parents had made in their marriage. When it came time for him to make his own household, he only hoped the pairing chosen for him would be as well-suited. Or at least half as entertaining.
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This Caecilius has certainly moved up in the world, the Doctor thought to himself as he loitered idly about the atrium of their hosts’ home. Not that the other Caecilius’ family had been hurting for money or status back in Pompeii, but the richness of the surroundings here made the old homestead look like a scrapheap. The family’s maior domus, who’d introduced himself as Dorsuo, hovered nearby.
The Doctor wasn’t sure if Dorsuo was this world’s version of the same man whose homage to the Pyrovile had cost him his life in the villa in Pompeii, but he liked to think so.
Rose wandered up to him and murmured in his ear. “So this is like their parlour? Lounge?” She peered down into the impluvium at the centre of the room. “Koi pond?”
“Both, sort of. And no, that’s just for draining rainwater.”
The Doctor’s stomach growled loudly enough that he flinched, making Rose jump away from him. Dorsuo stepped forward.
“Sir, if you would perhaps care for some refreshment before the afternoon meal,” he volunteered anxiously.
“No, no, really, I’ll be fine,” the Doctor reassured him, patting his stomach.
Rose smiled and rolled her eyes, then looked expectantly out one of the doorways leading out of the atrium.
A young, strapping bloke with a sagum and a gleam in his eye was striding towards him and Rose from the nearby fauces.
Wait just a tick. Was that Quintus? If he was industrious enough to be part of the Roman military, this Quintus was a far cry from the layabout he’d had to bribe just to get seated upright in Pompeii.
“Hello sir, ma’am.”
“Ah, hello.” The Doctor shook his hand eagerly. “My name’s the Doctor, and this is my wife, Rose.”
Quintus looked them both up and down. “Hello, sir, ma'am, my name is Quintus. My father mentioned we had guests from Britain and I simply couldn't wait to meet you."
He smiled winningly. "So, Doctor, a physician and an inspector for the Empire’s most esteemed projects. Must be quite lively discussions at your table.”
“You have no idea,” Rose muttered.
The three continued to make small talk for the next few minutes as Dorsuo slipped in and out of the room unobtrusively, finally coming to a halt a few steps back from Quintus and clearing his throat.
“Well,” Quintus countered charmingly, “it sounds like my mother’s stopped fussing, so it must be safe for us to go in.”
He smiled slyly and deferred to Rose, sweeping his arm back in the direction from whence he’d come. “Ladies first.”
She glanced briefly to the Doctor for confirmation. He nodded, and Rose made her way towards what the Doctor really hoped was lunch. He watched her progress for a moment, then turned back to Quintus, who had evidently been watching him. He gestured to the Doctor to precede him into the hallway. And then he winked. Of all the cheek!
Okay, maybe not that different. The Doctor smiled amenably in return and headed towards the distinctly Roman aromas wafting from the triclinium.
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Metella was normally inclined to dismiss her husband’s occasional bouts of over-enthusiasm about the new people or things he encountered, a tendency which had been exercised all the more frequently since their move to Alexandria. As much success as he’d brought to the family over the years, he did become possessed of some rather strange notions from time to time. But there was definitely something about these particular guests to their home.
This man who called himself The Doctor seemed learned far beyond what his age would indicate to be possible. And his wife, Rose, was quite clever herself, clearly adored her husband... and had the most remarkable hair. The young woman reminded Metella in many ways of her own Evelina. Or perhaps her long parting from her daughter was making her overly sentimental.
She continued to observe the pair closely as the meal progressed. For Celts they seemed reasonably familiar with the customs of Rome, if a bit behind the current fashion in some areas. Metella wondered at the sort of deeds the Doctor must have performed in the service of the Empire to be granted citizenship-or perhaps he was the son of Roman parents who had been raised in Britain, although both he and his wife bore enviable complexions that made her suspect not. She was terribly curious, but was determined not to let her curiosity get the better of her manners. Perhaps she could inquire later, when she and Rose were in private. Surely Lobus and the Doctor would have business to conduct that would leave the women to their own devices.
As the meal concluded, Lobus explained that he and the Doctor had already planned to spend the remainder of the day examining the workshops where his most senior marble artisans did their decorative work for the Library. The hour precluded a visit out to one of the quarries that served the building needs for the city, at least until the following day.
“We’d best be off if we hope to make the workshops before the men complete their tasks for the day!” Lobus leaned in to brush a distracted kiss atop her head, then swept past her and back down the hall, gesturing urgently to Dorsuo as he went.
The Doctor was trying not to look amused at all the activity surrounding his presence. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along, Rose?” he asked, in complete seriousness.
Rose smiled indulgently at her husband. “I’m not sure how we’ll cope, but I think I can give the marble-carving lessons a pass.”
“Shame. You don’t know what you’re missing,” the Doctor replied lightly.
“Hmmm.”
The Doctor seemed satisfied, and bowed slightly. He gave a strange sort of salute to Quintus, then followed Lobus’ path out to the atrium.
Finally, Quintus approached her, clearly intent on a farewell. To his credit, he only fidgeted a little as she adjusted his cloak so it would hang just so. “I must return to my duties, mother,” he said warmly. So responsible.
“Of course, my son. Be well.”
Quintus nodded to both women, then departed.
Metella fondly watched the procession, then turned to Rose. “Come, my dear. You must be tired of your travelling clothes. I have some tunics that would suit your colouring marvellously.”
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Rose felt not a little like Dorothy being fussed over in the Emerald City’s salon. Metella and her personal servants were intent on pampering her silly, and given the turn her day had taken she didn’t mind the attention.
She was briefly grateful that she’d recently had her roots touched up, heading off any difficult questions about how she achieved the colour. All three women seemed reluctant to tamper too much with her blonde locks, and finally settled on coiffing her hair into what Rose guessed was a simpler version of a typical Roman hairstyle. They oohed and aahed over how pale she was, and limited their makeup work to eyeliner and a hint of blush. She admired their handiwork in one of the mirrors Metella had provided.
While Licina and Sura were working on her hair and face, Metella wasted no time in having an array of clothing options set out for Rose to choose from. “This colour was one of my Evelina’s favourites,” the older woman remarked as she held up a pale blue dress against Rose. “Why don’t you try it with the robe here?”
Metella draped a darker blue garment across the tunic, and smiled a little too brightly. Rose recognised the look. It was the same brave face she’d sometimes catch her mum making when she thought Rose wasn’t watching, when they’d talk about Rose and the Doctor being away again.
The two younger women darted to and fro grabbing pins and fasteners and yet more drape-y pieces of clothing. “How about this cloak,” Metella asked, “too dark? Maybe the green one would work better.”
“I think I like the blue,” Rose offered, smiling at Metella sympathetically.
Soon Licina and Sura had set upon Rose again, this time helping her get into the unfamiliar outfit, not unlike Rose helping one of her customers back in the day. As they worked, Rose got the sense that Metella wanted to broach a topic with her that she wasn’t sure ought to be brought up in company.
The Doctor had mentioned that he’d met the other version of this family in Pompeii. She thought of how recent the destruction of the town would’ve been and ruled that out as an icebreaker.
“So,” Rose piped up, “how long have you been living in Alexandria?”
“What makes you think we’re not from Alexandria?” Metella asked casually.
“You, erm, don’t sound like it.”
Metella looked impressed with her answer. “No, we’re not from here. We came to Alexandria about three years ago after Lobus won the contract for providing the marble and marble workers for the Imperial granaries here. Before that we’d lived in Rome since our children-Quintus, whom you met, and Evelina, our daughter-were quite small.”
That sounds different. “Where are you from originally?”
“Thank you, you may go.” Metella said quietly to her servants.
Licina and Sura placed the cloak with its pins on a nearby bench and withdrew. Maybe that hadn’t been the best question to ask.
“It’s alright,” Metella reassured Rose, “they have other duties to attend to. Besides, I wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression by having them help you with a cloak just yet.”
“Of course,” Rose said, even though she really no particular idea what else they might have to do at this time of day, and hadn’t imagined that Metella was fixing to kick her out.
Metella approached her and started fussing ever-so-slightly with the arrangement of the folds of Rose’s robe. After a moment, she stood back and took in a deep breath as she assessed Rose from head to toe. “You look much refreshed. And the blue does suit you wonderfully, if I do say so myself.”
Rose blushed under Metella’s scrutiny. “Thanks.”
“As to your question,” Metella said soberly, “we were originally from Pompeii, may the gods have mercy on their poor souls.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Metella placed a comforting hand on her arm. “You had no way of knowing.”
Rose tried not to squirm under Metella’s understanding gaze.
“Besides, as I said, we’d been gone from the area for quite some time. There was a great upheaval of the earth in Pompeii many years prior to that. I talked my husband into taking the family to Rome just after our daughter was born. I thought it would be easier to move the children before they became too attached to the place.”
“I see. Good thinking,” Rose conceded.
“Of course, we’d already planned the move to Rome when the great fire happened there,” Metella said ruefully, “Rome was very good to us, though, I have no regrets in that regard.”
Metella smiled proudly. “In fact, our Evelina is one of her guardians. She’s a vestal virgin.”
Rose wasn’t sure what all that entailed, but if even she had heard of them, she knew they had to be important. “That’s terrific! I bet you’re really proud of her.”
“Yes, we are. Hers is a most sacred duty, critical to the very foundations of Rome herself.”
“But you miss her?”
“Ever so much more than I thought I would. The training to become one of the servants of Vesta starts when the candidates are quite young. Our Evelina was accepted into the order at the age of six.”
Rose blinked. She’d thought starting on her gymnastics at that age had been early. “Wow.”
“She’s passed from her years of training now and has been serving for nearly three years. She’ll serve for another seven years or so, then after that she will teach those to come after her. After that decade of service, she will be free to remain with the College, or if she so chooses she will be able to take a husband.”
“Retired at 36? Nice work if you can get it,” Rose joshed.
“The vestals are granted status in accordance with the importance of their tasks, and are also granted many freedoms in exchange for those they sacrifice in the service of Rome,” Metella volunteered.
“Such as?”
“For instance, they are allowed to own property. And never are they required to submit themselves to the control of a father or husband. Any man who might one day lure her away from that would have to be most extraordinary.”
Rose’s surprise must’ve shown; Metella quickly clarified. “Don’t mistake my words for ingratitude. Lobus has been a good and faithful husband, and a shrewd businessman. He has provided greatly for our family. But I know I have been blessed with an exceptionally good match. Many other women cannot say the same.”
And where exactly is she going with this? Rose’s jaw clenched.
“I feel as though I can be more honest with you than I might be with my own countrywomen, as experienced as you are in your travels. You and your husband are perhaps the happiest couple I’ve had the privilege of meeting. Outside of my own home, of course. But still, I wonder, and forgive me if this is out of place, but to live such an unsettled life... I’m not certain that I could bear it if I were in your place.”
“Actually, I love it.”
Rose grinned, and let herself relax. Metella looked puzzled but encouraged by her answer.
“I suppose I’m one to talk. We’re hardly likely to stay in Alexandria forever; I imagine we’ll move back to Rome some day.”
“I’m sure Evelina would be glad to have you back,” Rose commented warmly.
“If the visits over our years in Rome and correspondences since then have been anything to go by, you may well be right,” Metella said wistfully.
“Let’s hope so,” Rose averred.
Metella sighed loudly, then briskly rubbed her hands. “Hmm. Enough of this sad talk. Tell me, do you have any plans for the remainder of your stay in Alexandria?”
“Well, now that you mention it, the Doctor seems to...”
“Hauling around a quarry is no grand adventure, let me tell you. I wonder what diversions we can come up with for ourselves, hmm? Oh, I know! The markets here carry goods from all over the known world, perhaps some that even you haven’t seen.”
Metella guided Rose to one of the couches and began to plan out their days in earnest.
Don’t look now, but I think you may have just got yourself adopted.
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Part 3
Author: principia_coh
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: Waylaid en route to a holiday, the Doctor and Rose encounter unexpected wonders... and new dangers.
Author’s notes: Thanks to ginamak and leighleighla for their excellent and patient beta work!
Episode 9 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following The Wretched Hive last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
Part 1
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The Doctor’s brows shot up and he smiled stiffly at Rose. He hesitated for just a moment, then belted out, “Ah, yes, good old Alexandria!”
“Old, indeed. Not as old as Rome, of course, but the city was founded just over 400 years ago by the agents of Alexander the Great. Since it is 83,” Caecilius explained, seeming to do sums in his head, “that means that Egypt has been part of the Empire for 113 years or so now.”
Alexandria. In 83. Rose winced; the Doctor rolled his eyes and shook his head, still smiling.
Rose remembered reading about the Great Library in school, but her experience with the Library’s architecture had been limited to watching over Mickey’s shoulder as one of his videogames showed a short scene of it being built, in what Rose had presumed was a not particularly authentic way. It would be interesting to see how wildly inaccurate that artist’s interpretation had been; for starters, she didn’t remember anything about the Library getting expansions built. But then again, that was a whole different world.
She smiled to herself as Caecilius got their review underway. He was taking pains at first to point out everything carefully and slowly for her benefit. Given the detour, she was doubly glad she’d decided to go for the pedal-pushers and flats. This outfit the locals could write off as the eccentric choices of a foreigner from distant lands; she wasn’t sure she could’ve gotten away with a ra-ra skirt and court shoes.
The Doctor seemed unconcerned with their surroundings, but Rose kept a sharp eye out. She was wary enough on a good day; the lessons ingrained over the past several years had left her a little paranoid, even when they were supposedly safe or alone. Especially then. That they’d just had another unexpected detour in the TARDIS was setting her teeth right on edge. She counted numerous potential exits along the way, and started to relax a bit as it became clear the Doctor and Caecilius were going to keep getting on famously.
From the looks the Doctor kept shooting her, she had the strong sense that there was something about this Caecilius fellow that the Doctor wasn’t telling her, or hadn’t had the chance to, more like. As they walked, Caecilius and the Doctor had continued with their chatting, comparing notes on everything from the quality of marble near Rome versus here in Alexandria to the plans for the new wings of the Library.
Rose inhaled deeply, hoping to catch a whiff of whatever it was that had originally tipped the Doctor off. Even here in this incomplete section, the grassy smell of what she guessed was papyrus floated through the air, and something else-probably whatever they were burning in lamps, or maybe fresh ink. Caecilius was right, there didn’t seem to be much going on in this part of the Library right now. As they passed by one of the eaves, Rose spotted a pair of toga-wearing types talking quietly. They certainly didn’t look like construction workers, Roman or otherwise. One of them looked at the Doctor briefly, wide-eyed, then returned his attention to his comrade.
Rose waited for a break in the conversation. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Oh, Caecilius will do.” their host assured her.
“Caecilius. I thought you’d said there wasn’t any activity in this part of the expansion right now?”
The Doctor looked back at Rose with a vaguely impressed expression. That meant he’d seen them too.
“That’s correct, there isn’t.”
“I thought I saw a few men looking over some scrolls just back there,” she ventured casually.
“Most likely a couple of visiting scholars who got turned around. Or the staff nosing about, seeing where the various offices are going in, discussing who’s going where, that sort of thing.” If this was cause for concern, Caecilius wasn’t showing any sign of it.
“And here would be where this wing will meet the heart of the Library once work has been completed. I must excuse myself for a moment so I can send word to my household to expect guests. Shall we meet again outside?”
“Sounds like a plan,” the Doctor replied.
Rose watched as Caecilius hustled away in search of a messenger. The Doctor waved and smiled until Caecilius was out of view, then spun on his heels to face Rose. He grabbed her hands and grasped them tightly, gazing into her eyes with a panicky mix of earnest excitement and pure adrenaline-she could almost feel his pulse pounding in her hands, and he was starting to look a little clammy.
“The Great Library of Alexandria? Who would’ve guessed?” he said, a bit too brightly.
“Doctor, what’s wrong? Who was that man?”
“What, him? Lobus Caecilius, the premiere marble merchant of Alexandria.” The Doctor finished with a nervous little chuckle and looked away. He dropped her hands and gestured expansively out into the great room before them. “The Great Library of Alexandria, in all her ever-expanding glory. Isn’t this spectacular?”
“You know him.” Rose countered steadily.
“Yes,” the Doctor admitted uneasily, “I do. Or did. Before. Met him-the other him-the once, in Pompeii. The other Pompeii.”
“With Martha?”
He shook his head. “No, not with Martha.”
“With Donna?” she prodded gently.
“Yeah,” he said softly.
And he obviously didn’t want to talk about it.
“Okay.” She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“That was not a good day,” he said hoarsely.
Rose lifted his hand to her mouth, and lightly kissed his knuckles, stroking his fingers with her thumb. “But today’s going to be better, yeah?”
“Course it is,” he sighed.
Rose stood quietly at the Doctor’s side, letting him have the time to gather his thoughts. After a few quiet moments the Doctor gave her a reluctant smile. “Ready to move on, then?” he asked.
Rose nodded, then let him guide her out into the afternoon sun.
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“Guests? Now? Would it have thrown your schedule into disarray to have told me sooner?”
Lobus Caecilius stood before his wife in the dining room of their city home, wringing his hands, trying not to glance to Quintus for assistance with his mother. “Metella, my love, I did try to send word ahead with Maro.”
“I did get word from Maro,” she hooted, “only just before you arrived.”
“It’s an inspection from Rome, dearest,” Lobus pleaded, “we know how long that journey can be.”
“Three weeks against the wind of you heaving into Our Sea. How could I forget?”
“They’re out in the atrium, darling. Dorsuo is seeing to them.”
“If they’ve only just arrived, do you know if they’ve even settled in to their accommodations yet?”
“By all appearances... no.”
Metella paced from seat to seat, indignantly fluffing pillows and remaining uncharacteristically silent. Lobus cast an exasperated glance to his son, who shrugged.
“I could hardly leave them to fend for themselves in the marketplace, Metella,” Lobus stated firmly.
“They’re here now,” she relented, finally looking back at her husband, “and I’ll certainly present them our best hospitality. But a little warning next time would be appreciated!”
“Yes, my love, of course,” Lobus responded, his head ducked apologetically.
Metella turned to their son, who stood patiently in the doorway. “Quintus, be a dear and don’t leave our guests with only Dorsuo for company. Your father and I have arrangements to take care of, so if you could see to our visitors it would be very helpful.”
“Of course, mother.” Quintus bowed slightly and turned to go.
As he left the sight of his parents, Quintus Caecilius smiled to himself. He might never stop wondering at the partnership his parents had made in their marriage. When it came time for him to make his own household, he only hoped the pairing chosen for him would be as well-suited. Or at least half as entertaining.
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This Caecilius has certainly moved up in the world, the Doctor thought to himself as he loitered idly about the atrium of their hosts’ home. Not that the other Caecilius’ family had been hurting for money or status back in Pompeii, but the richness of the surroundings here made the old homestead look like a scrapheap. The family’s maior domus, who’d introduced himself as Dorsuo, hovered nearby.
The Doctor wasn’t sure if Dorsuo was this world’s version of the same man whose homage to the Pyrovile had cost him his life in the villa in Pompeii, but he liked to think so.
Rose wandered up to him and murmured in his ear. “So this is like their parlour? Lounge?” She peered down into the impluvium at the centre of the room. “Koi pond?”
“Both, sort of. And no, that’s just for draining rainwater.”
The Doctor’s stomach growled loudly enough that he flinched, making Rose jump away from him. Dorsuo stepped forward.
“Sir, if you would perhaps care for some refreshment before the afternoon meal,” he volunteered anxiously.
“No, no, really, I’ll be fine,” the Doctor reassured him, patting his stomach.
Rose smiled and rolled her eyes, then looked expectantly out one of the doorways leading out of the atrium.
A young, strapping bloke with a sagum and a gleam in his eye was striding towards him and Rose from the nearby fauces.
Wait just a tick. Was that Quintus? If he was industrious enough to be part of the Roman military, this Quintus was a far cry from the layabout he’d had to bribe just to get seated upright in Pompeii.
“Hello sir, ma’am.”
“Ah, hello.” The Doctor shook his hand eagerly. “My name’s the Doctor, and this is my wife, Rose.”
Quintus looked them both up and down. “Hello, sir, ma'am, my name is Quintus. My father mentioned we had guests from Britain and I simply couldn't wait to meet you."
He smiled winningly. "So, Doctor, a physician and an inspector for the Empire’s most esteemed projects. Must be quite lively discussions at your table.”
“You have no idea,” Rose muttered.
The three continued to make small talk for the next few minutes as Dorsuo slipped in and out of the room unobtrusively, finally coming to a halt a few steps back from Quintus and clearing his throat.
“Well,” Quintus countered charmingly, “it sounds like my mother’s stopped fussing, so it must be safe for us to go in.”
He smiled slyly and deferred to Rose, sweeping his arm back in the direction from whence he’d come. “Ladies first.”
She glanced briefly to the Doctor for confirmation. He nodded, and Rose made her way towards what the Doctor really hoped was lunch. He watched her progress for a moment, then turned back to Quintus, who had evidently been watching him. He gestured to the Doctor to precede him into the hallway. And then he winked. Of all the cheek!
Okay, maybe not that different. The Doctor smiled amenably in return and headed towards the distinctly Roman aromas wafting from the triclinium.
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Metella was normally inclined to dismiss her husband’s occasional bouts of over-enthusiasm about the new people or things he encountered, a tendency which had been exercised all the more frequently since their move to Alexandria. As much success as he’d brought to the family over the years, he did become possessed of some rather strange notions from time to time. But there was definitely something about these particular guests to their home.
This man who called himself The Doctor seemed learned far beyond what his age would indicate to be possible. And his wife, Rose, was quite clever herself, clearly adored her husband... and had the most remarkable hair. The young woman reminded Metella in many ways of her own Evelina. Or perhaps her long parting from her daughter was making her overly sentimental.
She continued to observe the pair closely as the meal progressed. For Celts they seemed reasonably familiar with the customs of Rome, if a bit behind the current fashion in some areas. Metella wondered at the sort of deeds the Doctor must have performed in the service of the Empire to be granted citizenship-or perhaps he was the son of Roman parents who had been raised in Britain, although both he and his wife bore enviable complexions that made her suspect not. She was terribly curious, but was determined not to let her curiosity get the better of her manners. Perhaps she could inquire later, when she and Rose were in private. Surely Lobus and the Doctor would have business to conduct that would leave the women to their own devices.
As the meal concluded, Lobus explained that he and the Doctor had already planned to spend the remainder of the day examining the workshops where his most senior marble artisans did their decorative work for the Library. The hour precluded a visit out to one of the quarries that served the building needs for the city, at least until the following day.
“We’d best be off if we hope to make the workshops before the men complete their tasks for the day!” Lobus leaned in to brush a distracted kiss atop her head, then swept past her and back down the hall, gesturing urgently to Dorsuo as he went.
The Doctor was trying not to look amused at all the activity surrounding his presence. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along, Rose?” he asked, in complete seriousness.
Rose smiled indulgently at her husband. “I’m not sure how we’ll cope, but I think I can give the marble-carving lessons a pass.”
“Shame. You don’t know what you’re missing,” the Doctor replied lightly.
“Hmmm.”
The Doctor seemed satisfied, and bowed slightly. He gave a strange sort of salute to Quintus, then followed Lobus’ path out to the atrium.
Finally, Quintus approached her, clearly intent on a farewell. To his credit, he only fidgeted a little as she adjusted his cloak so it would hang just so. “I must return to my duties, mother,” he said warmly. So responsible.
“Of course, my son. Be well.”
Quintus nodded to both women, then departed.
Metella fondly watched the procession, then turned to Rose. “Come, my dear. You must be tired of your travelling clothes. I have some tunics that would suit your colouring marvellously.”
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Rose felt not a little like Dorothy being fussed over in the Emerald City’s salon. Metella and her personal servants were intent on pampering her silly, and given the turn her day had taken she didn’t mind the attention.
She was briefly grateful that she’d recently had her roots touched up, heading off any difficult questions about how she achieved the colour. All three women seemed reluctant to tamper too much with her blonde locks, and finally settled on coiffing her hair into what Rose guessed was a simpler version of a typical Roman hairstyle. They oohed and aahed over how pale she was, and limited their makeup work to eyeliner and a hint of blush. She admired their handiwork in one of the mirrors Metella had provided.
While Licina and Sura were working on her hair and face, Metella wasted no time in having an array of clothing options set out for Rose to choose from. “This colour was one of my Evelina’s favourites,” the older woman remarked as she held up a pale blue dress against Rose. “Why don’t you try it with the robe here?”
Metella draped a darker blue garment across the tunic, and smiled a little too brightly. Rose recognised the look. It was the same brave face she’d sometimes catch her mum making when she thought Rose wasn’t watching, when they’d talk about Rose and the Doctor being away again.
The two younger women darted to and fro grabbing pins and fasteners and yet more drape-y pieces of clothing. “How about this cloak,” Metella asked, “too dark? Maybe the green one would work better.”
“I think I like the blue,” Rose offered, smiling at Metella sympathetically.
Soon Licina and Sura had set upon Rose again, this time helping her get into the unfamiliar outfit, not unlike Rose helping one of her customers back in the day. As they worked, Rose got the sense that Metella wanted to broach a topic with her that she wasn’t sure ought to be brought up in company.
The Doctor had mentioned that he’d met the other version of this family in Pompeii. She thought of how recent the destruction of the town would’ve been and ruled that out as an icebreaker.
“So,” Rose piped up, “how long have you been living in Alexandria?”
“What makes you think we’re not from Alexandria?” Metella asked casually.
“You, erm, don’t sound like it.”
Metella looked impressed with her answer. “No, we’re not from here. We came to Alexandria about three years ago after Lobus won the contract for providing the marble and marble workers for the Imperial granaries here. Before that we’d lived in Rome since our children-Quintus, whom you met, and Evelina, our daughter-were quite small.”
That sounds different. “Where are you from originally?”
“Thank you, you may go.” Metella said quietly to her servants.
Licina and Sura placed the cloak with its pins on a nearby bench and withdrew. Maybe that hadn’t been the best question to ask.
“It’s alright,” Metella reassured Rose, “they have other duties to attend to. Besides, I wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression by having them help you with a cloak just yet.”
“Of course,” Rose said, even though she really no particular idea what else they might have to do at this time of day, and hadn’t imagined that Metella was fixing to kick her out.
Metella approached her and started fussing ever-so-slightly with the arrangement of the folds of Rose’s robe. After a moment, she stood back and took in a deep breath as she assessed Rose from head to toe. “You look much refreshed. And the blue does suit you wonderfully, if I do say so myself.”
Rose blushed under Metella’s scrutiny. “Thanks.”
“As to your question,” Metella said soberly, “we were originally from Pompeii, may the gods have mercy on their poor souls.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Metella placed a comforting hand on her arm. “You had no way of knowing.”
Rose tried not to squirm under Metella’s understanding gaze.
“Besides, as I said, we’d been gone from the area for quite some time. There was a great upheaval of the earth in Pompeii many years prior to that. I talked my husband into taking the family to Rome just after our daughter was born. I thought it would be easier to move the children before they became too attached to the place.”
“I see. Good thinking,” Rose conceded.
“Of course, we’d already planned the move to Rome when the great fire happened there,” Metella said ruefully, “Rome was very good to us, though, I have no regrets in that regard.”
Metella smiled proudly. “In fact, our Evelina is one of her guardians. She’s a vestal virgin.”
Rose wasn’t sure what all that entailed, but if even she had heard of them, she knew they had to be important. “That’s terrific! I bet you’re really proud of her.”
“Yes, we are. Hers is a most sacred duty, critical to the very foundations of Rome herself.”
“But you miss her?”
“Ever so much more than I thought I would. The training to become one of the servants of Vesta starts when the candidates are quite young. Our Evelina was accepted into the order at the age of six.”
Rose blinked. She’d thought starting on her gymnastics at that age had been early. “Wow.”
“She’s passed from her years of training now and has been serving for nearly three years. She’ll serve for another seven years or so, then after that she will teach those to come after her. After that decade of service, she will be free to remain with the College, or if she so chooses she will be able to take a husband.”
“Retired at 36? Nice work if you can get it,” Rose joshed.
“The vestals are granted status in accordance with the importance of their tasks, and are also granted many freedoms in exchange for those they sacrifice in the service of Rome,” Metella volunteered.
“Such as?”
“For instance, they are allowed to own property. And never are they required to submit themselves to the control of a father or husband. Any man who might one day lure her away from that would have to be most extraordinary.”
Rose’s surprise must’ve shown; Metella quickly clarified. “Don’t mistake my words for ingratitude. Lobus has been a good and faithful husband, and a shrewd businessman. He has provided greatly for our family. But I know I have been blessed with an exceptionally good match. Many other women cannot say the same.”
And where exactly is she going with this? Rose’s jaw clenched.
“I feel as though I can be more honest with you than I might be with my own countrywomen, as experienced as you are in your travels. You and your husband are perhaps the happiest couple I’ve had the privilege of meeting. Outside of my own home, of course. But still, I wonder, and forgive me if this is out of place, but to live such an unsettled life... I’m not certain that I could bear it if I were in your place.”
“Actually, I love it.”
Rose grinned, and let herself relax. Metella looked puzzled but encouraged by her answer.
“I suppose I’m one to talk. We’re hardly likely to stay in Alexandria forever; I imagine we’ll move back to Rome some day.”
“I’m sure Evelina would be glad to have you back,” Rose commented warmly.
“If the visits over our years in Rome and correspondences since then have been anything to go by, you may well be right,” Metella said wistfully.
“Let’s hope so,” Rose averred.
Metella sighed loudly, then briskly rubbed her hands. “Hmm. Enough of this sad talk. Tell me, do you have any plans for the remainder of your stay in Alexandria?”
“Well, now that you mention it, the Doctor seems to...”
“Hauling around a quarry is no grand adventure, let me tell you. I wonder what diversions we can come up with for ourselves, hmm? Oh, I know! The markets here carry goods from all over the known world, perhaps some that even you haven’t seen.”
Metella guided Rose to one of the couches and began to plan out their days in earnest.
Don’t look now, but I think you may have just got yourself adopted.
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Part 3