The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Al - By Andrew Levkoff Page 0,36

you wish. Think of it as your own first peculium.”

The ring was large, but it slid perfectly onto the middle finger of my right hand. It made me feel uncomfortably important.

“Still the troubled look! Be at peace, friend. I am not here to take thanks but to give it.”

“It’s not that. It is only ... I am thinking of the girl.”

“Livia? A delight, no?”

“I must ask, is she pure?”

Boaz’s smile shrunk. “This is her master’s business now.”

“I see.” I removed the ring and held it out to him.

“Attend me,” he said. “I have the luxury of choosing my clients, and I sent her only to those I trust. All I can tell you is each time she returned to my house, she was almost always whistling. The child is happy. If for nothing else, keep the ring to remind you of the part you played to reunite mother and child.”

Years later, any time the subject arose, Livia has always been quick to tell me I would have been a fool to give it back.

Chapter XI

81 BCE - Spring, Rome

Year of the consulship of

Marcus Tulius Decula and Gnaeus Cornelius Dolabella

I was lending a hand in the kitchen, dredging chickens with flour. Everyone was busy except Pío and Nestor who were playing a game of dice on a corner table, their backs to the activity and bustle behind them. Cook had asked twice for another pair of hands but Pío waved him away. A moment later, Crassus came wandering in, still wearing his purple-striped toga from the senate; he was looking for a snack. Cook had just handed one of his Greek assistants a last-minute shopping list. The young woman looked at it, made a face and brought it straight to me. I started to translate but she protested, "Too much, too much! Write it down, for pity’s sake." I held up my flour-coated hands and called to Nestor to please, if he wouldn’t mind, jot it down in Greek for Eirene.

“I’m busy,” Nestor snapped. “Wipe your damn hands and do your job.”

There came the sound of a patrician ‘ahem;’ both Nestor and Pío leapt to their feet to find Crassus standing behind them. “Dominus,” said Pío, “forgive me.”

“Why? Have you done something that needs forgiving? Nestor, lend a hand, or lose it.”

“Yes, dominus!” Nestor took the list and Pío shoved a calamus and a pot of ink toward him, looking as nervous as if he himself had spoken harshly to me. Nestor took the pen in hand and studied the list intently. Crassus chewed on a date and asked cook to review the evening’s menu. As they talked, Eirene waited patiently at Nestor’s side, but as yet he had done nothing but look at the list, turn it over and stare at it. He was becoming increasingly agitated.

Pío and I came to the same conclusion simultaneously. He moved to distract Crassus and I went to Nestor, wiping my hands on my tunic as best I could. I took the list and the pen from his shaking hands and translated it into Greek as fast as I could. Pío used his bulk to block us from view.

When I handed the list to Eirene, the poor, polite thing said, “Thank you, Alexander,” and our impromptu scheme was undone. Crassus turned round, gently pushed the big Spaniard to the side and saw Eirene holding a list dusted with flour.

“Who wrote that?” he demanded.

“Nestor’s writing is next to illegible,” I began. I was about to say more, but Crassus stopped me.

“Remember that lashing I spoke of when you first arrived?” I assumed correctly this was a rhetorical question. “Please do not lie to me. Nestor, bring me the list.”

Nestor obeyed. Crassus looked it over and handed it back to him. “Read it.” Nestor began reading the list, but Crassus interrupted him. “Wonderful. Now try the side written in Latin.”

Nestor turned the scrap to the side written in Latin and pretended to read, stopping when his memory failed him. “I cannot,” he said, looking down at the floor.

“Look at me,” Crassus said. The moment Nestor raised his head Crassus slapped him hard. The surprise and force of the blow almost knocked Nestor off his feet. “Unlike you, I have an excellent memory. When general Sulla asked how he might be of assistance, I asked for slaves who could both read and write in Greek and Latin. Did you tell the general’s man that you could do this?” Nestor nodded. The left side of his face was