The Bow of Heaven - Book I: The Other Al - By Andrew Levkoff Page 0,84
easier coffers to empty closer to home.”
Caesar shook his head. “Not a wasteland, Marcus, but a richly paved road. Think of it: Rome’s borders reaching to the Indus, perhaps beyond. What a triumph! No door would remain closed to us, no glory withheld, no honor denied to such a man as could deliver the opulence of the East. Where Alexander failed, we could succeed!”
“I admire your spirit, Gaius, but shall credit such brashness to youthful temerity. The world is already ours; have patience and enjoy what you have, or at least what you’ve borrowed. Besides, the senate would never countenance such folly.”
“I’m no fool, Marcus. A good stew needs simmering. I’ll be able to stand for consul in three years; that should lend substantial gravitas when I propose the expedition after my term expires.”
Crassus snorted and shook his head, smiling. “Already won the post, have you?”
Caesar continued as if dominus had not spoken. “Even then I doubt the senate will issue enough gold to finance the entire campaign. We’ll need additional resources, which is where you’ll come in. But I’m in no hurry. Let’s just keep it in mind, you and I.”
Crassus was about to say more when an explosion thudded through the morning air followed by a commotion of shouts from outside. We all rushed to the balcony to look down across the five terraced gardens that framed the slopes of the villa to where a jet of water arced up in a decidedly unintentional fountain.
“I’d better see to this,” Crassus said. Caesar offered to accompany him, but my master wouldn’t hear of it. “Nonsense. Stay here. Have breakfast. We’re on holiday. I won’t be long – I just want to make sure no one is hurt. I’ll take Mercurius with me. If he’s not off napping somewhere. Alexander, see to our guest’s comfort. Bring him anything he desires.”
Crassus left to check on the disturbance, and fearful for the privacy of my master’s papers, I suggested to Caesar he might be more comfortable in the triclinium. He grinned briefly and without humor, but allowed me to guide him. As I was getting him resettled in the dining room, propping pillows behind his back and exchanging his footwear for dining slippers, Tertulla found us. Her black curls were festooned with yellow ribbons. They matched the color of her tunic, whose sleeves fell just to her elbows. Each of her forearms was adorned with golden bracelets, some studded with rubies, others with sapphires. Over her tunic, she had draped a long stola the color of daisy petals.
My lady greeted Caesar politely, but when she heard where my lord had gone, asked why I was not with him. I answered that he had commanded me to stay behind to see to the young high priest’s needs. This seemed to satisfy her, and reclining on the lectus adjacent to Caesar’s, she ordered refreshments while we awaited his return. I hovered close by while fresh oysters, chilled mullet from our ponds, slices of honey melon, and Armenian apricots stewed in white wine were served.
“How is Pompeia this morning?” Tertulla asked, spearing an apricot half with the pointed end of her spoon.
“As witty as ever I have heard her,” Caesar replied.
“She’ll be joining us shortly?”
Caesar dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “She’ll have to stop snoring first.” I glared at the two dining room attendants who were both grinning recklessly.
“You are unkind, Gaius,” Tertulla said.
“I am an honest man.”
“An unlikely and unprofitable trait in a politician.”
Caesar sipped his water, then retorted, “It is you who are unkind, Lady Tertulla, for your words condemn your own husband as the most colossal liar in Rome.”
Tertulla let a small smile escape her. “Eat your breakfast, Caesar. Your wit must need frequent nourishment.”
“My stomach may growl, yet my eyes banquet to excess.”
“Then I suggest you close them, and I will have a servant guide a spoon to your open mouth.” Tertulla’s smile had vanished.
“These delicacies before us will not sate the hunger that gnaws at me.”
“I would remind you, sir, that you are a guest in my husband’s home.”
“You are right, of course. Let us speak of your husband. And your marriage. It must be tiresome to be saddled with the same old horse for so long without the variety of a new ride now and then.”
“Think yourself a stallion, Gaius Julius? You are an ass. If your rudeness did not appall, I would find your braying amusing.”
“What would it take to amuse you, Tertulla? I long to