The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Al - By Andrew Levkoff Page 0,43

had devoured his own children. I would do this, and fervently, too, for more miraculous than any myth of creation, I had begun to feel at home.

Chapter XIII

80 BCE - Summer, Rome

Year of the consulship of

Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix and Quintus Caecilius Metellus Pius

It was never proven whether or not Pío had helped his friend escape, but the look on his face when Boaz’s men dragged Nestor back in chains six days later condemned him as surely as any confession. Even so, Crassus was loath to punish his atriensis, though as paterfamilias he could do so on a whim, with or without proof. Crassus was not a capricious man; his steps were thoughtful and measured. Still, he must have been asking himself how long could a man’s past loyalty balance the scales against his present transgressions?

Malchus and Betto told me what had transpired when they met in the small guardhouse at the front of the estate on the far side of the gates, opposite the schoolroom and clinic. The men who found Nestor had not been kind. The lumps on the runaway’s face ranged in hue from eggplant to urine. He floated between our world and a better one, in and out of consciousness. Crassus allowed Pío to revive him with sips of watered wine laced with sambucus and cinnamon, but would not permit his bonds to be undone so that he could hold the cup himself.

Present were dominus, Pío and Nestor, with Betto and Malchus close by, hands on pommels. Betto confessed he had fretted through the entire meeting, afraid that should Pío become enraged, he and Malchus would prove to be a man or two short in the effort to subdue him.

When Nestor was more or less himself, Crassus began the interview with a single word. “Why?”

Nestor sat straighter and winced with the effort. “We were doing fine without him,” he said, jerking his chin toward the house. “We didn’t need him mucking everything up.” Pío held the cup to his lips, but Nestor turned his head away. “We had a system; it was working. Dominus, if you’d been here, if you’d spent more time at home, I mean I know you are an important man, but still, you would have seen it.”

“You have shamed this house. Your crime is a capital offense. By all rights I should plant a cross in the front yard and nail you to it.” No one doubted the senator’s resolve; words now needed to be chosen very carefully.

“Mercy, dominus.” This was not Nestor, but Pío, who actually had tears in his eyes.

Nestor continued to speak as the aggrieved party. “This school,” he continued, the pitch of his voice rising, “he devised it to be rid of me. I could see it, I could see what was happening. He knew you wouldn’t need me, that you’d send me away. I’d be off to the mines.” He looked up at his companion, his face suddenly soft and sad. “And Pío. Pío would be alone again.”

Crassus stood considering, twice about to speak and once holding his tongue. “This interview is over. I shall ask no more questions regarding the attempt on Alexander’s life, for I fear to hear the answers and what they will demand of me.

“Pío, you have served me well, but what would you have of me? There must be payment, and it must be public. This is my will: nine days hence you and this entire household will escort Nestor to the forum. There his crimes will be announced and you will mete out his sentence. You will bind him with a collar like the dog he is; upon its iron face you will have inscribed the words, ‘PROPERTY OF M. LICINIUS CRASSUS. RETURN AND BE REWARDED.’

“After the collar is affixed, across his forehead you will brand him fugitivus with the letters FVG so that all may know his shame.”

“No, dominus, no!” Pío cried. Crassus was unmoved.

“I know your part in this, Pío. Let your punishment be the administration of his. And consider yourselves fortunate that when that day is past you will both yet draw breath.”

***

Pío never had to carry out Nestor’s awful sentence. I don’t think he could have done it in any case, such was his feeling for the little Greek. It was the day before punishment was to be exacted. We were taking the midday meal at our place in the kitchen. Everyone was present except Sabina, whose patients were especially numerous that morning; Nestor, confined to our