Nola

Nola was born into a Proto-Latin household in the hills inland from the coastal marshes of Latium, where small settlements sat among fields, scrub, and oak. Her parents, Arfo and Tana, belonged to a dependent work group attached to a larger farmstead. Arfo left before daylight for the patron’s plots to dig, weed, and carry loads. Tana worked close to the pens, milking goats and watching poultry, then brought milk and curds to the main household before returning to their own hearth.

A year earlier Tana had borne a daughter, Mara. Mara lived through one harvest season and died before she could speak. After that, Tana took offerings more often to a spring-fed hollow beyond the pens: a little milk poured onto the stones, a pinch of grain, and a thread from her spindle tied to a low branch. When her belly swelled again she brought the same gifts, and she asked the household dead to keep the new child breathing.

Nola arrived in high summer. Sena, an older woman who helped with births, washed her and rubbed oil into her skin. But from the start Nola stayed small, her cries thin, her body cool even when held tight under wool.

Through the autumn Tana carried Nola against her chest while she worked the dairy yard, adjusting the folds of cloth to keep her warm. Nola nursed weakly; Tana had to press her to the breast again and again. At night Tana woke to check her breathing. By winter Nola had not gained weight the way other infants did. She lay quiet when other babies would have kicked and grabbed. Arfo brought extra wool from the main household. Sena came by to look at her and said little.

Before the next spring planting, Nola died. Tana wrapped her in a cloth and carried her to a shallow grave near the grove path, where Arfo placed a small cup of milk and a few grains beside her.