The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Al - By Andrew Levkoff Page 0,15
began. He became devoutly apolitical and withdrew from public life altogether. Which is why he looked mildly surprised when a squad of soldiers marched up to his home, led by this man. I never learned his name, but his deeds made the memory of his face indelible. Damasippus, you say. I have it now. You never gave it when my father demanded it of you. Why should it matter to me now? But it does, you see, because there is a perverse balance in the knowing. In my heart, the names of my kin are forever linked to their kind and gentle ways. Until now I had no name to connect the profane acts of that day. Marius may have given the order. But never has such a heinous command ever been executed with such joyous devotion. By you. Damasippus.
“You gave my father a choice. You must have known of him: consul, censor, governor of Hispania Ulterior, a patrician proclaimed imperatore by his troops and granted a triumph for his victory over the Lusitani, yet you gave him a choice. Fall on your sword, you said, and spare the life of your son. My father was no fool. He knew the sun above his head would be the last to shine upon him. He did not beg or ask why or hesitate for one second. He said, Spare the lives of the rest of my household, my children and their children. Lucius cried out and struggled against the two that held him. ‘Be brave, my son,’ my father said as the rest of the soldiers pushed roughly past him to search the house. ‘Take anything you like ....’” Crassus’ breath caught, it became clear he was crying. ‘Take it all, Father said, ‘but spare all who live under my roof. ‘Swear this. Swear on the honed tips of Diana’s unerring arrows and upon the blessed curls that grace your mother’s head. And you swore. You swore.
“My father called for Plocamus, our steward, to assist him, and he shuffled bravely out from amongst the servants. But he was old and frail. You pushed him aside and ....” Crassus faltered. “You told him he could not lift a sword, let alone brace it.”
“I know damn well what I ...”
“SILENCE!” Sulla bellowed. “Go on, Marcus.”
“I cannot. Rage and sorrow both have stopped my mouth. Oh gods! Will you not let me avenge them now?!”
“Draw your sword,” said Sulla, “for its thirst shall be slaked. I have heard the tale, my friend, and would be your voice, for the story eats at me and must out. This traitorous whoreson took his own sword and knelt before your father, bracing the butt against his boot as is the custom. Publius Licinius addressed the house, but his gaze was fixed on Lucius, his eldest remaining son. ‘Mourn not,’ he said, ‘for I happily sell all my remaining days to make this purchase. When Marcus returns, express my sorrow at not being able to say goodbye.’ He looked down at his murderer and added, ‘Be not forsworn,’ and then he fell upon the blade.”
“I could not go to him!” Crassus cried with a voice aged with five years of guilt and anger. “Three men held me fast, their strength doubled to save their own lives as well as mine. Pallus whispered ‘forgive me’ in my ear as he clasped a hand over my mouth.”
“A foul business,” Sulla said. “And here is the worst of it. Before the sword could inflict a lethal blow, Damasippus thrust a hand up to your father’s shoulder, arresting his descent. He nodded to the men holding your brother and smiled as they slit his throat. Seeking your father’s eyes once more, he grinned as he said, “Marius bids me say thusly: you and your family shall become as dust, your coins melted, your works dismantled, and your household utterly destroyed.” He cast his stiffened arm aside, your father fell, and Damasippus laughed as the light went from his eyes. You and your three brave servants were the only ones to escape.”
The sound of weeping came from above, and more cries than the sobs of Crassus swept down to me on the wind. There soon followed silence. I strained to listen, my breath a caged captive in my chest.
Sulla said, “Marcus will kill you now, Lucius Junius. You will receive no rights of burial. Your body will be cast into the Tiber. Your possessions and property will be proscribed and your family and