The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Al - By Andrew Levkoff Page 0,105

days, like the one when I received a flogging at his hands, he never spoke to me thus. I feigned departure, leaving the portiere half-open, then, barefoot, tip-toed back to watch over him. Curling up on the floor outside the door to his new quarters, I tried to remain alert in case he should require my assistance.

He sat on the small room’s bed staring at the floor till dawn, rising only once to vomit. I could hear him mumbling to himself, running the gamut of emotions from the soft keening of shame and humiliation to the clipped whispering of cold anger.

For awhile there was silence, but then in a voice so composed it frightened me, he said my name. I thought I must be dreaming. “Alexander,” he repeated, “I know you’re out there. I would speak with you.”

I obeyed, and he waved me to the only chair in the small, unadorned room. Without preamble or preparation, Crassus proceeded to confide in me. I winced at the surgically precise and cold recounting of each sordid detail. When he was done, I felt his eyes on me, but I could not raise mine off the floor.

“Have you nothing to say?”

“If I knew the words that could annul your own, dominus, I would say them.”

“I am dominus of nothing.” His voice had gone hoarse, pushing back tears. “What home am I master of? There is a house, but it is empty. There is a bed, but I can never sleep in it again.”

“You are certain you saw domina?”

“There is no doubt,” he said bitterly.

“Then what you saw ...” I hesitated to say the word, “this was rape, dominus.”

“No. Not rape. She spoke sweetly to him, I could swear it. I was drunk, I know. But no, I think not rape. ” He stared at nothing, replaying the scene, stabbing himself with the memory, over and over in his mind’s eye, as if that might mercifully blind him to it. When we are sane, we may realize this torture would have the opposite effect, painting the scene with indelible strokes. But no man, faced with such immediate, terrible loss could put down that blade of recollection.

“I almost left without her, but then I realized it was not I who needed to skulk away in darkness like a thief. Oh, Alexander, I am bereft. The fine metal of my life has rusted, its foundation crumbling. My love is gone, my marriage a travesty. Tell me, my friend, in what vault shall I deposit the devotion, the passion so freely lavished on my Tertulla each and every day for the last twenty years? There is no place to pour this torrent of affection; without the proper cask, this sweet wine will spill into the gutter, a wash of ruined vinegar.”

“This is a horror beyond measure.” I shook my head. “Lady Tertulla hates Caesar. This I know; I would put the lorum in your hand myself if it be untrue.”

“It is your hand where it belongs, Alexander. I did nothing! I am dishonored, a coward. Yesterday, I had worn honor like a crown; today I am wrapped in a mantle of disgrace.”

“My lady would never betray you, dominus. She loves you as Baucis loved Philemon; she is as faithful to you as Penelope to Odysseus. Everyone in the familia knows this. The house of Crassus is a generous, loving house; it could not be otherwise if there was discord between you. I myself have heard dinner guests on many occasions marvel that the two of you act as if newly wed.”

“They were not here tonight. Their words would sour on their tongues had they seen what I have seen.”

“Dominus, look at me. You did not bring me into your confidence to hear feckless words of commiseration. You have always trusted me. I beg you to do so now. Caesar and Brutus plotted against you. Brutus delayed your return intentionally, with malice and terrible purpose. Your wife is faithful; she was raped by Caesar.”

“You tried to interrupt our conversation. This I remember.”

“And Brutus would not allow it. I did not know what he was plotting, but there were signs, looks between him and Caesar and the servants. You are the victim of a cruel conspiracy.”

“How will I face her in just a few hours time?” Crassus felt for the dagger on the bed. “I had the chance, yet I did not strike.”

“Dominus, you could not have bested Caesar. He is fifteen years younger, fifteen years stronger, fresh from