Page 48
It did not, at first, appear offensive. Confusing, perhaps. She was Empress, certainly, but not of the Greek isle of Lesbos. Yet the author was not mistaken. It was the hidden context that made it offensive: Lesbos was the home of Sappho, and Sappho’s name had become synonymous with women loving women.
They were calling her the Empress of Lesbians.
‘Get rid of it,’ she ordered.
Her staff jumped into action, climbing out and using their bodies to shield the offensive proclamation, but it was too late. It could not be unseen. The words etched into her brain, throbbing and bleeding.
The imperial party continued on wordlessly as two men stayed behind to scratch it out, but another graffito appeared further down the road, this one even more graphic.
‘Princess Sappho sucks tits,’ Gia read aloud, spluttering as she tried not to laugh. ‘It is not untrue.’
‘Shhh,’ Claudia whispered, lightly elbowing her.
She again instructed one of her guards to have it removed as they moved on, her neck and ears burning.
Claudia convinced herself that they were merely discussing her policies. She sucked tits as a ruler. That was what it meant. But deep down, she knew better. They were mocking her sexuality yet again.
She pretended to be unbothered but the graffiti plagued her throughout the afternoon, making it difficult for her to pay attention to the architects and games-makers who grudgingly fawned over her, presenting sketches and model replicas.
The question continued to plague her.
How did they know?
As they stood in front of the half-finished Colosseum, her advisors followed her around – a gaggle of men in a rainbow parade of robes. While they were dutiful, even worshipful to her face, competing to be her favourite, sometimes she caught them rolling their eyes at her or covertly gesturing behind her back.
One man stuck out two fingers, poking his tongue through the V shape it made. He turned and caught her gaze, his face greying. She watched the lump in his throat move up and down.
Claudia pretended not to see. She noted that he was the one in yellow. She didn’t remember his name and she didn’t need to know it now.
‘Have the man in yellow removed from the court,’ she ordered of Hieronymus, at the end of their session.
Claudia moved on, shown to a private box inside the arena where she watched a group of gladiators practising purely for her benefit.
She sat on one side, with Gia as her guard, while her cousin sat on the other, waving at her occasionally. Claudia waved back and smiled, though her face fell as she turned back to the arena.
EMPRESS OF LESBOS.
Her head was still rooted in those words of infamia, her skin crawling with shame and embarrassment.
How could they possibly know such a thing? It wasn’t as if her appearance gave anything away: she was groomed to be the beautiful princess, cast in the image of Venus and appealing to the eyes of men. Other than her having the somewhat masculine profession of ruling an empire, there was no way for her secret to have been intuited.
‘What do you think gives them that impression about me?’ she whispered to Gia, between matches.
‘What impression?’
‘ “Princess Lesbos.” ’
‘It’s just graffiti,’ said Gia. ‘It’s not serious. Most of it is just dick jokes, anyway. Don’t worry about it.’
She squeezed Claudia’s hand, but Claudia pulled her hand away.
Perhaps it was her relationship with Gia, that gave it away?
She could see the gladiators whispering among themselves and felt heat rising to her cheeks again, wondering what they were saying about her now. Perhaps she should’ve travelled to the Pantheon with her cousin after all, to distract from the accusations.
‘I… have something to ask you,’ said Gia, after a minute. ‘While we have a moment alone, for a change.’
‘Go on?’ said Claudia.
