that same moment, I realized why the priests’ hoods had seemed so familiar, yet somehow menacing. My uneasiness grew.
It is an effortless matter to draw conclusions from a narrative that takes you by the hand as I have done, but to believe the unthinkable in the midst of events that swirl about you in a confusion of emotion and distress, that, I hope you will see, is a more challenging task. Yet I curse myself for my slow-wittedness. I could not change the outcome for Sabina, for the law of Crassus is unforgiving. I could not recapture the look in Livia’s eyes that died on that day of judgment. But I might have saved a life.
It was the night that Tessa died. All of us, myself included, believed that Sabina labored frantically to revive the gardener. But I had to know. I summoned Malchus, told him to don socks as well as his heaviest caligae and meet me at the tool shed. There we collected shovels and rakes, and with lanterns raised high headed to the western wood. It was easy to find the spot, for as we approached it stood out from its surroundings, natural in aspect, but unnatural in fact. A patch no larger than three by six feet was covered with a layer of moss, twigs and bark made to resemble the rest of the forest floor. We raked this aside; I warned Malchus to let nothing touch his exposed flesh.
We found nothing, except merely circumstantial evidence: Sabina had planted something here, then removed all manifestation that she had done so. This was enough to report to Crassus, but would I do so? Could I do anything that would reshape me into a wedge between mother and daughter? And that, in Livia’s eyes, would be the least of my crimes should I continue down this path. I was almost ready to take relief from our failure when Malchus said he thought that perhaps Sabina merely wanted to plant some flowers. Why do you say that, I asked him, since I had told him nothing of my suspicions. He pointed deep into the hole where he had been digging. We lowered our lanterns and there at the bottom lay a single, battered, purple bloom.
“Don’t touch it!” I said as Malchus reached for it. I put on a pair of gloves, exhumed the flower from its intended grave and dropped it into my belt pouch. One itch had been scratched satisfactorily, for the flower’s hooded shape was a perfect mimic of the priest’s cowl.
The gods, now intent on guaranteeing my undoing, laughed as they brought my own eyes to our next discovery. As we hurried away with our prize it was I, not Malchus, who chanced upon a small, pale glow beside a mossy granite outcrop. We delayed our race back to the house to investigate. The lanterns illuminated the destruction of any hope for me to remain in denial: a single daisy, its short green stem flat and mangled, its white petals and yellow heart crushed and lifeless.
***
“Seize her!” Malchus shouted as we burst into Sabina’s clinic. The legionary’s inertia answered his own command as he crashed into the healer, knocking her to the floor. I slapped the spoon out of Tessa’s mouth, but she swallowed involuntarily.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Crassus shouted, grabbing the sleeve of my tunic amidst the shouts and screams of those present.
“Where are you emetics?” I demanded of Sabina, who was still pinned to the floor by red-faced Malchus.
“She’s too weak,” Sabina said with an emphasis meant only for me. “You’ll kill her.”
“Give her water. Now, master, for the love of Flora, if you want her to live. As much as she can drink.” Crassus released me and nodded to Eirene who ran to fetch a cup and pitcher. “In the old school room,” I called after her. “It’s closer.”
“For gods’ sake, man, let the woman up,” Crassus said. Malchus pulled Sabina roughly to her feet. “Gently, Malchus,” dominus commanded. “I will know what this is about before anyone is maltreated. No one is accused of anything. Yet.”
I knew the words must come but they lodged in my throat, a lump of ruined futures.
“Alexander!” Malchus urged.
“I accuse,” I shouted, as if volume were needed to regurgitate the unspeakable. Unable to look at my old friend, I stared at the floor at Crassus’ feet. “I accuse Sabina of attempting to murder this woman.”
The silence that followed was interrupted only by the rasping of