***
The day Ludovicus left, I found him at the stables securing his belongings and tools to the horse Crassus had gifted him to speed his journey to the latifundium. The Cremona farm was prospering, and a man who could repair almost anything was always in great demand. He looked fine in his sand colored tunic and maroon cloak. I noticed he wore military style caligae on his feet, leather laces crisscrossing up to his calves.
“I am sad to see you leave,” I said, handing him his bedroll.
“I am sad to be leaving. I like the city life; the country is too noisy for me.” I cocked my head. “I hate the sound of crickets. And mosquitoes? I’ll never get a good night’s sleep again. But,” he said, scratching his shaved head, “that’s what I get for putting my cock where it didn’t belong. I fucked things up for you as well, and for that I am truly sorry. Any chance you can patch things up with her?”
“In another lifetime, perhaps.”
“When snakes have knees, eh? Well, maybe it’s for the best. She was a bit young for you, eh? Jupiter’s balls, Alexander, in your position, you can get any wench you want. Just whistle and point.”
I had no reply. Though our feet were planted on the same ground, Ludovicus and I lived in two different worlds; there were some words that could never span that celestial distance to be heard or understood. Instead, I said, “So it’s true then: you were not faithful to Sabina?”
“Faithful? You’re joking, right?”
“She cared for you deeply. She’s had a hard a time of it. Did she never tell you?”
Ludovicus shrugged. “There wasn’t much opportunity for conversation. She’d come to my room, I’d throw Tranio the hell out, and when we were done, he’d come sulking back to his bed. The most talking we did was, after about a week of this, we told Tranio he could stay put, we didn’t mind.”
“So you never exchanged words of commitment, or endearment?”
“I didn’t. She may have done. Alexander, look, I get it, there was a fucking great misunderstanding. I liked her and all, I liked her a lot, but it wasn’t as if we were married.” He bent to cinch his saddle. “The thing I can’t figure is why she didn’t take one of her scalpels to me. She had plenty of opportunity.”
“She and Tessa had always been at odds,” I said. “If she’d gotten away with it, she must have thought she could go on with you like before. If I hadn’t stumbled upon her in the woods, she’d very likely be here now. You wouldn’t be packing and Livia and ....”
“Here now,” he said, standing. “Come on, come here.” He threw his arms around me and gave me a bone squeezing hug. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.” After slapping me on the back a few times, he released me and we shook hands.
“You’re a good man, Ludovicus. For all your faults.”
“And usually proud of them, too. Except today.”
“Perhaps our paths will cross again.”
“May the gods make it so.” He leapt up on his horse and I handed him the reins. His clear eyes smiled down at me and for a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be a man like him: big, strong, confident, carefree, and unburdened by an excess of contemplation. He saluted smartly and rode off. The next time I saw him he would be wearing a centurion’s helm, bloodied and ferocious, wielding a sword as if it grew from his arm.
***
Livia left the baths in the direction of the wine room. “Not the five or the ten,” Tertulla called after her, “but the fifteen, if you can find it.”
“You know, she’s become quite stunning,” Crassus said, eyeing the lissome departure of the twenty-three year-old, whose long tresses, wrapped and tied atop her head with a fringed scarf had deepened to the color of fiery autumn leaves. “I thought she was a seamstress,” he mused.
I found some empty wall space and put my back to it.
“Not today,” Tertulla said.
“What do you think, Alexander?” Crassus asked.
“About what, dominus?”
“Don’t be obtuse, man. You’ll remind me of Cicero and spoil my good mood. About Livia. Is she not a ravishing creature?”
“She ... um, she whistles well enough.”
“That’s it?” Crassus asked, giving me an incredulous look. “Don’t lie to me; you’ve had your eye on her for ages, you coward. You’d have more than that if she’d let you.”
I winced.
“Apologies, Alexander,” Tertulla said as she rose, leaving her towel on the couch. “Have you forgotten, Marcus? That business with the healer ... Livia’s mother?”
“Curse me for a Cretan. Apologies, Alexander. This aged soldier’s memory is flagging.”
It was impossible to make myself invisible when they kept talking to me, but I stared straight ahead, trying to look through rather than at the dimples above Tertulla’s hips as she descended the three steps into the lightly steaming water. “That’s why you married a girl fifteen years your junior,” she said, wading waist-deep to the statue of Venus in the center of the pool. “Come along then, old man.”
Crassus dropped his towel, stepped into the pool and crossed the ten foot radius to join Tertulla on the submerged marble bench that encircled the statue. “Now, where was I?” he mused. “At my age, the memory starts to go.”
“So you’ve said. Just now. Let’s see, you were about to say something that has absolutely nothing to do with politics, I believe.”
“Was I? That can’t be right. I’m sure it was about politics.”
Tertulla reached across his chest with her left hand and pinched his right nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Crassus flinched but managed to say, “Yes, I’m positive I had more to say of a political nature.”
“Go on, then. I give up,” she said, releasing him. As soon as he began to talk, she slid beneath the surface and stayed there, holding her breath.
When she burst up again with a gasp and a shake of her short, black hair, spraying scented water in all directions, Crassus laughed and said, “That’s hardly fair! Remind me to pay you in kind next time you need to discuss your latest shopping excursion.”
“Point taken. I just thought we might relax this evening.”
“I am relaxed. All right, I admit I’ll relax further when Pompeius has made good on his promise to disband his army and retire from public life. Have I told you how much it is costing us to maintain our own legions just to keep him from marching into the capital?”
“Several times. And he wouldn’t dare.”
“Actually, you’re right, he wouldn’t, and he won’t. Frankly, I don’t think my fellow consul has it in him to make a play for dictator. When we return to Rome next week, I will speak before the senate and to the people, and make a great show of amity and conciliation to the mighty Magnus.”
“Is that wise? You might encourage his ambition.”
“Pompeius is nothing if not vain. But in his heart, I believe his love of Rome will prevail. Or his fundamental lack of courage. And if he needs further persuading, there are many of us - plebeians, senators and I myself who have played upon his pride and flattered him with artful diplomacy. It’s his Achilles heel. I couldn’t tell you this earlier, but I met with him before we departed for Baiae. He asked me how it would stand with me if he were to accede to the people’s demand that he assume the dictatorship.”
“He didn’t!”
“He did. I wanted badly to admonish him that great generals do not necessarily make great emperors, but the matter required all my diplomacy and delicacy. I played upon his sense of history and his place in it – did he want to be remembered as the destroyer of the Republic? Would he risk civil war to bask in a popularity so fickle a mediocre harvest or a whisper in the wrong ear could overturn it? I knew I had him then. But I kept on. I reminded him that now that he and I had swept away all the evil that Sulla had perpetrated on the government, did we not now have the best of all possible Romes? What could he accomplish as dictator which he had not already achieved as consul? Was he not rich enough? Power
ful enough? Influential enough? He was the hero of the nation and his place of honor in Roman history was fixed for all time.
“I think I may have overdone it a little, for he accused me of wanting the crown for myself. After I contained my laughter, I told him, and it’s true enough, my world is perfect just as it is. I could have no greater joy than to continue the status quo ad infinitem. And here is where I took the leap of faith I knew I would have to make to ensure the safety of the Republic. If he had any doubt of my sincerity, I told him, I would prove my patriotism and my loyalty by disbanding my army unilaterally.”
“Marcus ...”
“I had to do it, love. And when we return to the city next week, I will make good on my promise.”
“No wonder you’ve seemed preoccupied ever since we arrived. I should have been more supportive.”
Crassus chuckled. “I can’t imagine how. Unless you can perform some kind of magic and cancel that picnic at Solfatara tomorrow.”
“I will if you wish it. But I think we should take the waters. The fumes will do you good. Relax you.”
“I have no doubt. It’s the noxious gases spewing from the likes of Cicero, Lucullus and the others we came here to escape that I would rather not inhale.”
“Don’t worry, my sweet,” Tertulla said, rising to stand before her husband. She took his hands and drew him to his feet. Crassus watched as the motion caused a pair of water drops to fall from the rapidly rising tips of her nipples. “I’ll protect you. Now come with me.”
“Where to, my pet?”
“To the anointment room.”
They walked naked to the small unctuarium, adjacent to the warm pool. I followed and found another wall. I would continue to do so until Crassus gave me permission to retire.
Livia was waiting for them. Her short, cream tunic was cinched tight about the waist, pulling its hem halfway up her thighs, the sight of which made my toes ache. As soon as she saw our masters, she began pouring the wine that she had fetched, having diluted it only slightly with spring water.
“Are you doing the honors this evening, Livia? What happened to Tranio?”
“I asked for Livia to attend us,” his wife said. “I’m certain you will approve of the substitution. But first, Alexander has earned his rest. May I dismiss him?”
“Why? I need him: he is the whetting stone upon which I sharpen my wit.”
“Now is not the time for rhetoric. Besides, I think you’ll find Livia’s tongue just as sharp. Please?”
Livia handed dominus a cup of wine. “Well,” Crassus said, taking the offered cup, “personally I think you’re working her too hard.” He sipped the wine. “Gods! This is ambrosia.”
“It’s the best we have,” Tertulla said. “Livia, join us.”
“Thank you, domina.” She poured herself half a cup and emptied it. “To the house of Crassus. May it’s strength multiply like the silver coins in its coffers.”
“Splendid,” Crassus said. “Well spoken.” He took a mouthful of wine and closed his eyes to savor it.
“Your impertinence is excusable,” Tertulla said, “But do not think it goes unnoticed.”
“Am I missing something?” Crassus asked.
“She mocks us, dear. You sent her mother to mine your silver in Greece.”
“An Alexander in female guise. Delightful!”
“Perform your best, Livia,” Tertulla said. “The past is set down in a thousand thousand indelible scrolls. But the future is a blank parchment forever in wait of a present.”
“Yes, domina.”
“Those were sad times for this house,” Crassus said. “Best we put them behind us.” His voice had turned as unyielding as concrete, his subtext clear: the judgment of Sabina was final.
I had been required to be in attendance during many forms of my masters’ copulations, from parties with over a hundred guests to the more frequent and private meetings of husband and wife. This was the first time Livia had ever been summoned to take part. I had not thought of Greece for years, but now I found myself longing desperately for home. My gaze rose to the cove ceiling, both to avert my eyes and to keep my self-pity from rolling down my cheeks.
“Come,” Tertulla said, wanting to regain a lighter mood, “let us use the new unguents we got in town today. You’re going to love these, Marcus. Livia, the rosaceum and the crocus-oil.”
“Crocus-oil?” Crassus asked. “How much did you pay for that? Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He put the cup down and raised his arms.
“With your permission, dominus?” Livia asked, her tone moderately strained, our master thoroughly oblivious. Crassus nodded, and she opened the two ampullae oleariae and handed one to her mistress. Wife and slave anointed dominus with the precious unguents and began in earnest to apply them.
“Dominus,” I said. “Please, may I be excused?”
“Let him go, love. Truly, we do not require an audience.”
“I see, so that’s where we’re headed. Well as it happens, I like an audience. Besides, Alexander may be master of all things ethereal and esoteric, but he is sorely lacking in the ways of the flesh. We do him a service by insisting that he stay.”
Tertulla threw me a look of compassion, but punctuated it with a sigh. She had prepared this evening to take her husband’s mind off his work and my discomfiture was not a high priority. Crassus had already moved on. He raised his wine cup to his lips, then stopped suddenly and exclaimed, “You know, I think you’re right, dove. I think that when I have moved these pieces to their proper place on the board, I will have very likely saved the Republic!”
“You are hopeless, husband,” Tertulla said. “Fortunately for you, I am not. Livia, stronger measures are required. Clean him up a little, but don’t be too thorough. I don’t want all that expensive oil off him just yet.” Tertulla pressed up against him from behind, moving her hands over his chest and stomach. Livia went to a cabinet and retrieved a silver-plated strigil which she methodically but lightly ran down her master’s arms, then legs. She collected the runoff in a small cup attached to the instrument by a golden chain.
“Darling,” Crassus said, “we may need to search for a new seamstress. Livia has a gift.” He stood with legs and arms spread, beginning to respond to the hands that moved upon him.
“Dominus,” I said, my eyes downcast, my voice low, “do not make me do this.”
Everyone stopped and turned to look at me. Crassus appeared as if he were considering acceding to my request or summoning his lorarius. I did not care; a whipping would be less painful, or so I thought at the time. Before he could speak, Livia said, “You and my mother were so naïve.” Her laugh was almost genuine. “Did you really think Boaz would not get full value from me? Watch and see what I learned.”
“No.” Gods above and below, Livia had pushed dominus to his decision. “Leave us, Alexander, and take with you the knowledge of just how close you came to reaping my displeasure.”
My back ached and my stomach threatened revolution, yet I managed to find my way back to my quarters. I would never know if Livia spoke the truth, just as I would never know if being dismissed from that room was better or worse than the sights my imagination plagued me with that night. To blot them out I squeezed my eyelids shut till suns and stars blazed behind my eyes. One shining godsend careened among them: Sabina would die without ever knowing that no decent freedman would ever take her despoiled daughter for a wife.
PART II - Master to Slave
Chapter XXIV
62 BCE - Summer, Baiae
Year of the consulship of
Decimus Junius Silanus and Lucius Licinius Murena
“Alexander, back so soon?” asked Crassus.
It was early summer, and for the eighth year running we had escaped to the south, hoping to trade the stink and heat of Rome for the ornate tranquility of the general’s Baiaen villa. This morning, however, peace and quiet were being trampled by engineers working on the new mineral baths Crassus was having installed h
alfway down the hillside. The sun was just beginning to warm the southern slopes of smoldering Vesuvius.
In Egypt, a daughter of pharaoh Ptolemy Auletes, Cleopatra Philopator, had just celebrated her seventh birthday. Earlier in the year, a conspiracy to overthrow the Republic was thwarted and its leader, Lucius Sergius Catilina was killed, thanks entirely, to hear him tell it, to Marcus Tullius Cicero. Pompeius Magnus had been busy in the east, his armies turning nations into Roman provinces, including Pontus, Phoenicia, the two Syrias and Judea. The Jews barricaded themselves in their temple fortress, but it fell to the Pompey’s machines of war. He killed twelve thousand of the defenders, profaned the temple by entering the Holy of Holies, but left the gold and relics therein intact, ordering the temple purified and restored. For his conquests he would receive his third and greatest triumph. But my hand runs away from my thoughts.
Censor, Propraetor and proconsul Crassus, through generosity, popularity and the political lubricant of gold judiciously distributed, controlled much of the senate; save a triumph of his own, there was no honor or office left for him to garner. He had become one of the most influential men in Rome, and certainly the richest. So wealthy was he, in fact, that the people bestowed upon him his fourth agnomen; he was now known throughout the land as Marcus Licinius Crassus Dives, Crassus the Rich.
“Word has already spread,” I replied. “They know you’re back for the season. Half the town was up and waiting for us.”
“How many loaves?”
“Fifty. The crowd was well-ordered and respectful, but the bread vanished as if by magic. Our workmen were only able to snare about half before the cart was emptied of everything but crumbs.”
“How many went empty-handed?”
“I would say one hundred.”
“Tell the kitchen to bake two hundred loaves for tomorrow.”
“The bakers’ knuckles are already deep in enough dough for three hundred loaves, dominus.”
The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Alexander Page 19