The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Alexander

by Andrew Levkoff

  Miraculously, neither of us was badly hurt. My arm had smacked into a piece of burning wood and my sandaled feet would take some time to heal, but nothing seemed broken. Crassus’ cloak was smoldering. I unhooked the jewel-studded fibula that held it around his neck and tore it off him. The second it landed on the ground in a smoking heap, I dove for it again, ripped the clasp from the smoldering fabric, rose and handed the golden disk to Crassus. He looked at me in amazement and laughed out loud.

  “Did you hear that?” I shouted.

  The sound came from our right. “Anyone there?!” we called.

  A thin voice answered, “In here.” It came from a barbershop whose entrance opened on the lobby where we stood. We moved quickly into the shop and I saw that Crassus was limping. The store was empty. The voice called again and we could tell that it came from above us. A wooden ladder led to the loft found in almost all these small shops.

  Crassus grabbed a rung but I said, “Dominus, allow me.” I indicated his injured leg. He stepped aside and I climbed up through the trap door in the ceiling. In the smoky dark I could barely make out the narrow, cramped sleeping quarters of the old man who lay shaking on a pallet in the corner.

  “You’re safe now,” I said. With Crassus helping from below, we managed to get him down the ladder. He was barely conscious. Once back on the shop floor, Crassus steadied the frail barber while I bent to pick him up and heave him over my shoulder. I staggered only a little.

  We left the store, crossed the lobby and headed back down the vestibule. Smoke clinging to the ceiling was being sucked out into the cool night air. Ten paces before we reached the exit and safety, Crassus tapped me on the shoulder and held out his arms. I realized what he had in mind and carefully helped resettle the wisp of a barber over Crassus’ own shoulder.

  I followed Crassus out of the building, noting that the limp in Crassus’ left leg seemed markedly more pronounced than it had only a moment before. Of course, it could have been the extra weight.

  A huge shout went up from the crowd as we crossed to the other side of the street. The loudest cheers came from Crassus’ own household. He gently set the old man down, who instantly reanimated and threw his arms around his savior, sobbing his thanks. Another huzzah. Crassus extricated himself, wished the barber well and left him to the care of the happy and grateful onlookers.

  Ludovicus barged through the crowd and pulled up short in front of us. He looked at Crassus with shining eyes and trembling chin. He could hardly show his relief by throwing his arms around his master, but had no such compunctions with me. The massive, muscular battalion commander gripped me in a bear hug and told me I stank. I swear he wiped a tear away on my sooty shoulder before releasing me.

  Crassus put his hand on that same spot. He looked me in the eyes, nodded ever so slightly and gave my shoulder a brisk squeeze and shake. That was all. That was enough.

  Then he returned to business.

  “Fortuna has smiled upon us this time,” Crassus said to an even more disassembled Corvinus. If possible, he looked worse even than we. Crassus continued, “I shall make an offering to Pluto for sparing these good citizens. I suggest you do the same.”

  “Yes, certainly,” agreed Corvinus. “Uh ... but ... what about my building?”

  “Well, it’s a corner building, that’s something anyway. Ludovicus, what are you waiting for?!” Crassus shouted in false anger. At last, Ludovicus gave the signal to swing both streams of water directly onto the burning building. As we knew it would, after only a moment, the top two floors caved in and a fireball veined with debris, steam and dust rose into the night sky. Another collective gasp came from the crowd.

  Corvinus sagged. “Sixty-five thousand?” he begged.

  Crassus shook his head. “Fifty.”

  Corvinus whimpered like a struck puppy. “Done,” he said, defeated. I clambered up onto the pump cart, retrieved one of the three heavy bags and handed the twenty-five thousand sesterces to Crassus who passed it to Corvinus.

  “Here is half. Come by my house tomorrow, after your sacrifice, and I’ll have the balance and the papers ready.” It was sometimes necessary to offer all the cash on the spot to convince the landlord to sell, but Corvinus was completely deflated. He turned and slumped away with his guards.

  From out of the darkness came a troop of twenty torch-bearing scribes. As they moved into the street, Crassus allowed himself to be hoisted back up onto his horse, favoring his leg, then turned to address the crowd. As he spoke, those of his men who were not busy with the actual firefighting switched roles and spread down both sides of the block, each bearing a lit torch. With the help of the still burning building, the street was now illuminated to festival brightness.

  “Good people of the Quirinal. My name is Marcus Licinius Crassus. I am deeply sorry for this tragedy and the loss of your homes. As I am sure you are aware, the flats built and leased to you by Septimus Florius Corvinus were of an older, less safe construction.” At the sound of the landlord’s name, a chorus of boos and hisses rose to mingle with the smoke. “Now, now, each according to his ability and means. Corvinus did the best he could.”

  “To rob us blind!” someone shouted. The crowd cheered.

  “Citizens and plebeians, this is what I propose. You see my assistants passing amongst you now. Please let them record your names, sign if you can or make your mark. Everyone present tonight, regardless of where they live, will receive my gift of two sacks of wheat flour.” The crowd applauded, surprised and pleased. “Come to the granary tomorrow before midday. Countersign the list and you’ll be eating bread and honey by sunset!” That will bake him a few votes, I thought, when he stands for praetor.

  “For the people whose homes were destroyed tonight: when we depart shortly, please follow us back to my villa. A barracks in my compound is being prepared to receive you even as we speak.” This earned sincere applause and nods of approval. “Now, it would make no sense to ask you to return to these same homes, those left standing, when we all know it will only be a matter of time before they look like that.” Crassus pointed to the glowing rubble. The crowd murmured agreement. “Tomorrow, a team of my engineers will arrive at first light and begin the demolition of the remaining insulae.” A cry of dismay rang out. Crassus raised his arms above his head to quiet them. “Do not be alarmed. Everything will be provided. My scribes will go to the Temple of Ceres and request the occupant records from the quaestors. At my own personal expense, you will be temporarily relocated while we begin construction on a new complex, built entirely of safe, sturdy and heat-resistant concrete and fired bricks!” The people were happy about the new buildings, but not so enthusiastic about the disruption of their lives. The cheering was less than tumultuous. But Crassus was ready for them.

  “To compensate you for this inconvenience, each tenant will receive an additional two sacks of flour, two amphorae of oil, plus a cash allowance of one thousand sesterces to spend as you wish during reconstruction.” This time, the crowd roared with unbridled enthusiasm. While they were cheering, Crassus added under his breath, “And of course new leases will be executed with nominal increases in rent.”

  As we rode home, the sky was lightening in the east. It looked like it was going to be another gorgeous morning. Crassus looked exhausted yet elated. He would have little rest before the days’ clientes started arriving. He reined in Ajax and pulled alongside the cart in which I rode. “See the doctor before you retire,” he said. He began humming a tune from the pantomime. After awhile, as we climbed the Palatine, he said, “Another solid night’s work, Alexander. Another acquisition, another rung.”

  Chapter XIX

  76 BCE - Summer, Rome

  Year of the consulship of

  Gnaeus Octavius and Gaius Scribonius Curio

  We were welcomed by a crowd from the household, mostly those who knew members of the brigade and were happy to see them return home safely. Among them were Sabina and Livia, stiffly holding hands. Well then, even without the d
irect order from Crassus, there’d be no putting this off. Tertulla was at the head of the little cheering throng and the moment Crassus was off his horse she was in his arms. Suddenly, she tilted her head back, having got a good whiff of him, pushed him to arms’ length and saw the state of him in the growing light: charred, blackened and bruised. To our horror but his delight she thumped his chest with her fist, raising a small cloud of dust and ash. Sabina made to accompany him but he put up his hand.

  “There are others,” he said, nodding at me, “that are more in need of your skills. When you are finished with Alexander, you may attend me in my quarters.” They began walking to the house, at which point Tertulla immediately noticed his limp. She punched him again. “Enough,” he cried, raising his index finger like a beaten gladiator. “Mercy!”

  ***

  Ludovicus leapt from his mount and raced to meet his lover and also mine, throwing his arm around the healer and smiling broadly at her daughter. Livia would have run to me, but her mother’s grip was firm. It would be up to me, then, to go to them.

  “Salve Sabina, Salve Livia.”

  “I have been waiting for you ...” Sabina said coolly.

  “As have I,” Livia said, her voice one part anticipation, two parts defiance. Ah, the politics of love: when affection is wielded like a club to gain independence from a disapproving family.

  “...for almost three months,” Sabina finished.

  Ludovicus, never one to fret over subtext, barreled along excitedly. “You should have seen our lad here!” he said, clapping me on the back. “He was Mercury himself. Sped into that flaming apartment house as if it was two-for-one day at the brothel. Your pardon, of course. I didn’t mean ...”

  “Thank you, Ludovicus. You neglect to mention that I was following dominus.”

  “Well, yes of course, a stunning bit of work by the master as well. You’ll both owe Vulcan a couple of goats for letting you out of that one!”

  “Why didn’t anyone else try to help?” Livia asked hotly.

  “Orders, miss, orders.”

  Livia turned to me. “You disobeyed a direct order from dominus?” she asked as if running into a burning building held the lesser risk.

  “Not so much disobeyed as ducked under.”

  “You might have been killed. He might kill you yet!”

  “Save me the trouble,” Sabina said, not quite under her breath.

  “Mother!”

  “Did you hear they pulled an old man from the insula?” Ludovicus asked. “By Vesta’s flaming toenails, he’d’ve burned to a cinder for sure, if not for those two.”

  “Sweetheart,” Sabina said gently. “You’re not helping. Why not see to the horses and I’ll find you later?”

  Before he could either answer or leave, Tessa ran up to us. “I just heard,” she said breathlessly. “Gratitude to you both for rescuing dominus!” First, she threw her arms about me, then Ludovicus. Jealousy can be measured in fractions smaller than a thousandth of an hour, and Tessa’s hug of the battalion commander lasted just one of those slivers too long. It went unnoticed by everyone, except Sabina.

  Ludovicus replied, “’Fraid you’ve got it turned around, Tess. I didn’t save anyone.”

  “Don’t you need to freshen your daisies, Tess?” Sabina asked. Ludovicus colored, looking like a man with something to hide trying to look like a man with nothing to hide. “We’re trying to have a conversation here.”

  “Well. No need to get snippy, I’m sure. I’ll be off then. The flower beds need watering anyway, don’t they?”

  As soon as Tessa was out of earshot, Sabina said, “Look, daughter, let’s just have out with it, right now. Are you still a virgin?”

  “Of course I am!” Livia exclaimed.

  “I think I’m done standing up for awhile,” I said, suddenly gone all atotter. Ludovicus thrust an arm out to steady me.

  “Fine. Livia, attend to your chores. We’ll speak more on this later.” The moment she was released, Livia ran to me and kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry. You will always be my foolish, brave centurion,” she whispered in my ear, then ran off before her mother could fling any more verbal darts at her. Sabina called for a litter and very soon I was being carried off to her office.

  “These should heal fairly quickly,” Sabina said tonelessly, spreading boar grease over both my feet, including the sandals. Then she went to her collection of knives and began sharpening one that looked to me to be already honed to deadly perfection. An image of how she had dealt with Pío flashed before me. I lay on her examination table, feeling not a little vulnerable.

  “You should have come to me,” she said flatly, cutting the laces that ran up the top of each sandal.

  “I did not know how to express my feelings to you.”

  “Of course you didn’t.”

  “And I was afraid.”

  “Of course you were.” She began pulling the leather tongues away from my feet, applying a colloidal solution of honey, crushed lavender and silver as she went. I winced as she passed over one of the worst burns on the outside of my left heal. She did not apologize.

  “I’ll tell you why you were afraid. You knew if you came to me that no matter how much I cared for you, no matter how grateful I am to you, I would never condone such a match. You would never receive my blessing.”

  “Why not, Sabina? I would never harm her. I would care and provide for her, I would ...”

  At that moment, little Marcus and Publius came stumbling in, tripping over each other in their haste. Nine year-old Marcus said, “We’ve come to thank Alexander ...”

  “For saving Father,” his six-year old brother blurted.

  “I was telling it!” Marcus said, infuriated.

  “Ooh, that’s discussing,” Publius said, wrinkling his eyes and nose at the sight of my feet.

  “Disgusting, you dolt,” Marcus said. “But he’s right, you know. Will you have to cut off his feet?”

  “Boys, go ask cook for some honey cakes and leave me to my work. Or I might slip and accidentally cut a toe or two right off, right before your eyes. Can you imagine the blood?” Two little jaws dropped in unison. They moved in, hoping for a display of carnage.

  “Sorry, boys, no fountains of gore here today,” I said, trying to sound confident. Go, my little warriors. Let the healer concentrate.” Pleading, followed by reluctance and resignation.

  “Mother said she hopes you know what you’re about,” Publius declared as Marcus led him out by the hand.

  “You’ve got a mouth as big as Polyphemus,” Marcus said.

  “Oh yeah? Well, you’ve got a pimple as big as his horn! Ow! Well, you do. Right there! Ow! Can I pop it? Hit me again and Father shall hear of the missing lora. So can I pop it? Please?”

  When the sounds of their discourse finally faded, Sabina said, “It’s obvious how you feel about each other. And it grieves me to deny you, but I must.”

  “I could go to dominus. Crassus could give his blessing to a contubernium between us.”

  “But you would never do that.”

  “No, I suppose I wouldn’t.” Wouldn’t I? “I’ll just have to find another way for you to find favor in the match.”

  “I won’t. By Vesta’s eternal flame, Alexander, if things were different, no one would be happier than I to tie the knot of Hercules about her waist on the day of your joining. But even if dominus gave his blessing, it cannot and must not be. Soon I will have enough to buy my freedom. I have already negotiated a price with the master. He will allow me to continue to work on the estate, free of rent. Then, in two years, maybe three, I will have earned enough to release Livia.”

  “And Ludovicus has already bought his freedom. Do you love him?”

  Sabina hesitated. “I am doing the best I can.”

  “You will leave us?” I could barely get the words out.

  Sabina had been wrapping my feet in washed linen. She stopped to look at me. “That has not yet been decided.”

  How could this be happ
ening? This woman, my oldest friend in this place, was building a wall between my love and me, a wall neither logic nor force could breach. “I have a ring,” I blurted. “And a fibula. They are very valuable.”

  “Oh, Alexander, you are wise in so many ways, but in this you are a babe on the altar. Don’t you see, Crassus will never let you go; you are too valuable to him. My daughter must marry soon. By the time I have bought her freedom, she will already be past the prime age for union. She and I may never be anything more than freedwomen, but her children will be born free, citizens of Rome. You want that for her, don’t you?”

  I exhaled the long breath that heralds tears. “Of course I do. I just ....” Sorrow choked off words and dammed my eyes, raising pools that blurred my vision. How could I argue with a plan for freedom? Especially for Livia. She would leave, and marry, and bear free children. And I would be left behind. The tears crested and rolled down across both temples as I lay on the gurney, thin wet tracks. I could not wipe them away, for Sabina held my hands to tend to them.

  I stared at the blurry ceiling. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Sabina bent over the table, looking directly down at me and said softly, “She must come to her husband a virgin.”

  “Of course,” I said, sniffling loudly, arguing on behalf of the stranger who would take her away from me. “What of her time with Boaz. Wasn’t she ...”

  “She is intact. I told you he was a better man than most of his kind.”

  “This is very hard, Sabina.”

  The healer’s tone turned contemplative. “Perhaps it would be better to have her taken away from this place.”

  “You must never do that! I will not allow it!” I shouted, rising to my elbows, then quickly deflating back into flaccid decorum. “Apologies. Please, Sabina, let me go to the master. Let me ask him for a peculium. At least grant me this.”