He, Marcus, thought that clientele were useless and lazy parasites,35 which would be nice to get rid of and he would probably do it in due course.
In order not to meet them, Marcus bypassed the atrium, triclinium, walking through the corridors to his mother's room. At the entrance, he held his breath—now he would see her, alive, healthy, still affectionate. She must be busy with the morning toilet.
He was looking into the room and saw the truth! Domitia Lucilla sat in front of a large silver mirror that reflected her face and shoulders quite well. Near it were three slaves—Didona, Melissa and Feoksena, young Egyptian girls. One held a round silver mirror in front of the lady, another curled her hair with hot tongs, and the third dealt with the face of Domitia. Feoksena rubbed into the forehead, cheeks, and neck of his mother an ointment derived from the litter of crocodiles, which bleached the skin, and prepared paint from burnt date bones to paint the eyelashes of the mistress.
“Marcus, why are you standing on the doorstep? Come in!” his mother observed. “Do you want something?”
The son blushed, remembering his prior night's sleep.
“I wanted to wish you a good morning, Mum. How did you sleep?”
“I slept wonderfully!”
Domitia did not turn her head, but Marcus noticed that she smiles faintly. Mother was in a good mood today.
“Have customers gathered?” she asked casually.
“As always!” Marcus shrugged. “They came again for the innings.”
“Well, who doesn't like sesterces—we have a lot of them. Speaking of money…”
The Domitia fell silent as Feoksena began rubbing the ointment, making circular movements with her palms across the mother's face. When she finished, Domitia continued.
“Perhaps your sister Cornificia is ripe for marriage. I found her a beautiful fiancé from a good Ummidius family—Gaius. The wedding must be next year when she grows up a little bit. I wanted to ask you about the will. We need to think about how to provide it with the means.”
“If she gets married, then I will give her the inheritance left from my father,” Marcus said judiciously, “I'll have enough of my great-grandfather's possessions. And you can bequeath your fortune to her, too, without mentioning me. Then Cornificia won't look poorer than Ummidius. I hear the Quadratus are a rich surname.