The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Al - By Andrew Levkoff Page 0,55
closed eyes saw every curve and line of the face that had beguiled countless sleepless hours. Our mouths tasted and explored, giving and taking in equal measure. But my mind had no part in any of this. That Alexander, the analyst, the worrier, he was nowhere to be found. For the first time in my life, I felt without thinking, became utterly and completely present yet without any sense of myself. In my life, it was a moment without equal.
“I have been waiting for you,” she said after we had paused to compose ourselves. We sat beneath Apollo, gently touching, kissing lightly, lost in this infinite instant.
“Why did you not make your feelings known to me?” A finger tracing an ear.
“I thought you would think me a child.” A palm caressing a cheek.
“You are a child.” A kiss more fervent than the last.
“And you are an old man. An old man who, with each passing day, grew in favor with our lord, and further away from the rest of us. I feared you would spurn me.”
“A fear I mirrored. After today, I may never fear again.” An embrace, an inhalation of intimately scented air.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” she whispered. “You had me bought from Boaz.”
We separated enough to see our flushed faces. “A mother reclaimed her daughter, a wrong was partially righted. What more matters?”
“And a certain tall, fair-haired servant saw a bit more of a young girl he fancied?”
“He is a great admirer of talented whistling.”
“And now you have become great, second only to our masters.”
“I am still Alexander. I would be your Alexander.”
“I have already claimed you.”
“Someday,” I said thoughtfully, “you will buy your freedom.”
“And yours!”
I laughed, and deep inside resisted the old Alexander who wondered just how that would happen. “Speaking of freedom, how is it you do not attend your lady? Why are you not at your loom?”
“Domina threw me out!”
“What on earth did you do?” The intertwining of fingers.
“Nothing more than my duty. It’s your fault, in any case. You have ‘saddled her’ with too many slaves. She said she feels like a bee in a hive. And she thought I needed air.”
“You are a little pale.”
“You love my complexion; confess it!”
“You fish when your basket is already full.”
“Of fish? There’s a fine compliment!”
“Indeed. Your skin is as white as a flounder’s underbelly, as soft as cheese, as smooth as cowhide.” Livia punched my shoulder. “Rubbed with the grain, naturally.”
“Hah! What of the day they carried you in like the prize in a boar hunt? Your face was as waxy as the masters’ death masks.”
“You remember? That was the first time I saw you,” I said, watching as she pinned her hair. “You were twelve.”
“You were a fool. Ruining one of general Sulla’s fine arrows.”
“Not as expertly honed as your sharp tongue.” She pursed her lips and let the object in question dart out and in. How she aroused me! “Had I known this day would come, I would have been much less carefree with my life. Do you know you were the vision my eyes beheld when I first regained my senses? You came to my sick bed, dancing and whistling, your red hair unclasped and swirling like Charybdis aflame.”
“I love the way you speak.”
“Then let me speak true now. Shall I tell you of your complexion? It is fresh cream from the pitcher, soft as moonlight on a rose. You made me dizzy that first day, and the sight of you has kept me reaching for support ever since. I’m afraid, Livia, I’ve been in love with you for rather a long time.”
“I am yours,” she said with her usual determination. “Forever.” She leaned into me and pressed her head against my chest. Then, almost to herself, “I wonder what mother will say?”
Chapter XVII
76 BCE - Summer, Rome
Year of the consulship of
Gnaeus Octavius and Gaius Scribonius Curio
“Ah, Alexander. Good, good. Ludovicus found you. Come in.”
It was the night of Livia’s birthday celebration. Long after the party had ended, she and I had been walking in the smallest of our gardens, lit by a three-quarter moon, holding hands, saying little, pretending the distant rumble of Rome’s commercial traffic was the sound of the sea at Cumae. A dozen runners had been sent to fetch me when I could not be found in my quarters but, Fortuna’s backside, it was the newly appointed (by me) battalion commander who stumbled upon us. Even had Ludovicus not seen our hands quickly separate, what else could an