The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Al - By Andrew Levkoff Page 0,52

artifice. We construct elaborate stages, festooned with intricate sets, costumed brightly, aglow with candles incapable of illuminating any flaw, upon which we play our most convincing acts of self-deception. What convoluted excuses we spin to justify behavior we would find ludicrous in others. What pretty lies we tell ourselves.

You would think that Sabina was not the kind of woman to make the same mistake twice. That is unkind, for indeed, while the cause was redundant, the man was new. In three of the four years I had known her, she swore she would have nothing more to do with men. Her work, she claimed, captivated and satisfied her as no man’s attention ever could. The gods know I am no expert, but surely there are certain thirsts which no occupation can slake. Sure enough, the siren call of these more physical requisites grew louder this past year, but unlike Odysseus, Sabina was not securely bound to any mast. The man waiting for her upon that dangerous shore? Steadfast, sturdy Ludovicus.

Who could blame her, honestly? Allow me to illustrate. I trust that by now you have a clear idea of my own physical shortcomings: too tall, too clumsy, too thin, too evocative of the aloof professor. Now imagine the opposite and there stands Ludovicus. Brawn to his fingertips, shaven pate, prominent brow over pale eyes, large, tan hands made for strangling, thrusting a sword or other such manly pursuits. Mind you, he was not unkind or malicious or indecent. In the end, however, he was just a man.

Maybe she only thought of him as a dalliance. I blush to say it, but once the needs of the body have been sated, does not the heart often command a strategic withdrawal. Not so with Sabina: she was an emotional lover; her attraction to any man needed to be more than physical right from the start. Otherwise her Lysistratan resolve would have prevailed and she would have had nothing to do with Ludovicus. She had had her eye on him for some time, but had been content to let the pressure build without action. Which is to say the moment he entered her clinic with a wrenched back she allowed her temple of abstinence to be ransacked.

Being in the room next door with nothing to do but work on lesson preparation or eavesdrop, I chose the latter. Sabina asked Ludovicus to lie on the examination table on his stomach, sounding completely professional and curt, her voice devoid of any of her usual compassion; by which I mean to say, she was a little flustered. He said he’d have to strip down to his subligatum. She told him to get on with it; I could almost hear the rolling of her eyes. There was a pause without sound, but the smell of pungent Egyptian eucalyptus informed me that liniment was being applied.

Ludovicus made some insouciant remark about how good her hands felt on his back, then added, “What would you say if I told you there was nothing wrong with me.”

“I’d say you are quite mistaken.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re arrogant, presumptive and like the rest of your sex only look at yourself when you can get your hands on a glass that magnifies. You’re also wasting my time. Get out.”

“Perhaps you are the one who presumes. I never said there wasn’t anything wrong with my back. I said ‘what if.’”

“Either way, get out.”

“Sabina, don’t think I haven’t felt your eyes boring through my back these past few weeks.”

“That must be what caused the damage. Here’s a ‘what if’ for you. ‘What if’ I call for Betto who’s just outside at the front gates?”

“Be my guest. But I think we’d both like it better if you didn’t.”

“For the last time ...”

Now there was silence, then a loud slap. Then silence again. Then rustling and the table scraping on the floor.

All of a sudden, Sabina called out breathlessly, “Alexander, are you in there?”

“No,” I replied. I collected my things and headed up to the house as quickly as possible.

Chapter XVI

76 BCE - Spring, Rome

Year of the consulship of

Gnaeus Octavius and Gaius Scribonius Curio

I had just spent a long day with Boaz negotiating over the purchase of dozens upon dozens of new slaves required for a senator of Marcus Licinius Crassus’ growing stature. Reputation, not necessity, propelled the calculus of their number. The size of one’s household was the most important badge a senator with my master’s burgeoning eminence could and must display. Tertulla, being the mistress