The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Al - By Andrew Levkoff Page 0,37

turning pink.

“Disappointing,” Crassus said. “Very disappointing. You are to be congratulated for deceiving this house as long as you have.” He adjusted his toga on his shoulder and turned to go. “Pío,” he said as he walked away, “there are limits to my good nature. Were it not for you, Nestor’s deception would not be tolerated.”

***

Livia had been spirited into the house while Sabina was in the garden helping Tessa cut bouquets. Publius was at their feet, chortling with delight at every worm he could wrest from the dirt. Crassus and Tertulla summoned her to their private quarters; the shriek of joy could be heard throughout the house. At supper that evening, an unusual night in that Crassus and his wife were neither entertaining nor being entertained, they called the entire staff into the atrium to make the announcement. This was superfluous, of course, as every ear had the gist of the tale poured into it practically before mother and daughter had left the masters’ bedroom. Dominus, however, thought it important to make a formal declaration. As he spoke, cook passed around a tray of spiced wine; not the cheap lora, mind you, but one of the sweet vintages served to company. I emptied a cup and reached for another. “Your domina and I have decided ...,” he said, making eye contact with everyone in his or her turn, “... well, is there anyone present who does not know what it is we have decided?” Everyone laughed, although it looked as if Nestor would speak up till Pío put a hand on his shoulder. “Let us say only that our family has been most joyfully increased by one."

On cue, Sabina and Livia came into the atrium, hand in hand.

"Welcome home, sweet Livia!” Tertulla cried.

Crassus waited for the applause to subside, then described the healer’s new clinic, which he encouraged everyone to visit. He spoke fleetingly of the school, but this was Sabina’s moment. She stood next to Tertulla, dabbing her eyes with the white linen orarium given her by domina. The square of cloth was wet from one end to the other by the time her happy ordeal was over. Livia clung to her mother but reached across to take Tertulla’s hand when Crassus announced that the girl would be taken into domina’s personal service to be taught spinning and weaving.

I felt a foolish tear play about my eyelid and quickly banished it. Watching Sabina's own eyes water as she fussed with Livia's hair, a spark of clarity illuminated the parody before me. Why should I allow this pretty scene to make me cry? Twigs of frustration fueled an anger I could not vent. Here was one poor child being sold from one place to another, nothing more. A business transaction, profit for the master. Had the comfort of this new life clouded my vision so quickly and thoroughly that I could no longer recognize the chains that bound us to this place or feel the invisible walls that confined us here? What cause was there for celebration? Could there ever be justification for separating a loving mother from her daughter? Instead of applauding her return, we should be outraged that they had ever been parted. But no, we must show gratitude to our masters for their generosity. The taberna, Sabina's peculium, all of it - we were no more than pigeons, scrambling to peck at the crumbs flung into our midst. The wine in my belly soured and I turned to flee.

"Alexander," Ludovicus called, "where are you going?"

Was I the only one to lament that the price of this reunion was the freedom of both Sabina and her child? "I am no witless, feathered scavenger!" I said, knocking over an incense burner in my haste to depart.

"He's overcome with emotion," I heard someone say.

"He's drunk!" said Tessa, the gardener, with surprise.

They were correct, the both of them.

***

Crassus and Tertulla kept their promise, taking credit for making Livia a permanent member of the household, but the girl had come back into our lives so quickly after my conversation with Sabina that she was naturally suspicious. Suspicious enough so that every week until her departure a fresh bunch of flowers appeared on my schoolroom table. She spoke to me about it but once. It was the day of my first class, a week after Livia's return. The benches and tables had not yet arrived, but no matter. We sat in a circle on the floor: three students from our house and