It has been a year since the poor
Terentia was left by her husband of nearly thirty-five years. The strained
atmosphere of death and sorrow caused by the civil war was not making things
easier. Terentia’s friend Arria had been by her side through the divorce,
helping her to deal with Cicero and their family financials, while also helping
tend to Terentia’s daughter, Tulia’s marriage problems. While helping Terentia, Arria had some
troubles of her own. She had a child of five years, a daughter named Laelia.
And on Laelia’s second birthday, Arria’s husband, Cyrus was called to fight
alongside Julius Caesar against Pompey. Arria worries that her daughter may
never be able to truly meet her father, for a two year old would not be able to
recall those early memories.
In
February, while giving birth to her second son, Tulia passes away in her former
husband, Dollabella’s house. With two tragedies happening in such short time,
Arria has to put her problems aside, and aid to Terentia, who is heartbroken,
losing her husband and only daughter. Arria, as Terentia’s best friend, invites her to stay at her
house not too far from Terentia’s on Palatine Hill. Here, both Terentia and
Arria’s slaves, Magnus and Nero, aid to Terentia’s needs. While Arria takes her
daughter, Laelia, to the Forum for her daily tutor lessons on the steps of the
Basilica.
Arria
and her husband, Cyrus, write to each other as much as they can. They keep each
other updated on their lives, and Cyrus always makes sure to write a small note
to their daughter Laelia.
One day while walking Laelia home
from her tutoring session, she saw a letter on the door from afar. Excited to see what it was, Laelia ran
to the door, hoping it was another letter from her father. As she grasped it
from the door, Arria knew something wasn’t right. The handwriting, it wasn’t
Cyrus’. As she opened it, she fell to the floor. Terentia heard a noise from
outside and ran to the door. Arria was lying down, crying hysterically.
Terentia grabbed the letter from Arria’s hands. She read it silently to herself. This was it… it was the letter that
every soldier’s wife prayed to never receive…
