should my case ever be tried, he would write on my behalf. Which he has. Illicit sex, Marcus, drives at least half the decisions of the modern world, wouldn’t you agree?”
“What a bankrupt and reprehensible philosophy.”
“Yet Pompeius now awaits to appear in court on Caesar’s behalf with a letter stating that not only should I not be on trial, the senate should confer upon me a supplicatio, thanking me for bringing Egypt back into the fold, and for all my victories in Judea. I may have a statue in the forum before this is done. All thanks to Caesar and that magnificent shrew. A victory all around, don’t you think?”
“If you hate your wife so much, why not just leave her?”
“Why leave her, when I can leave her in misery?”
“I think I’ve heard quite enough.” We had arrived at the steps which would take us back up to the governor’s box. “Octavius, walk with me back to the Regia. I’m feeling tired.”
“Dominus, I’ll come with you.” Crassus' eyes were already somewhere else, more than likely Luca.
“No, Alexander, you stay and watch the races. I’ll be fine.”
“Marcus,” Gabinius said, “We need to discuss Parthian tactics and weaponry.”
“Tell it to my legates. I’m done with you. Alexander, wait. Take this.” Crassus unbuckled his long purple cloak and fastened it about my shoulders. He laid the wreath on my head and stuffed the handkerchief in my hand and my slave plaque down my tunic. With little enthusiasm he said, “Something little Felix can tell his grandchildren about someday.”
“You’re joking,” Gabinius said.
“I never joke in front of people I despise.”
“Despise me all you like, but hear me out if you seek to finish what I began across the Euphrates.” Gabinius saw with rising panic that this public arcade beneath the vaulted columns of his stadium was likely to be his final audience with Crassus. He took hold of the new governor’s arm. Crassus recoiled. “Listen to me!” As dominus was stepping away, I leaned in, straining to hear whatever it was this man who’d actually faced the enemy we planned to engage was trying to tell us. But the crowds were thickening, their holiday babble amplifying off the bottoms of the concrete seats rising above our heads, and I could not comprehend every word. Two phrases were all that came through clearly: “Armenia’s mountains” and “using the rivers.”
Crassus may have understood more, for he answered, “Why would I take advice from Pompeius’ torch bearer, a man who dances naked and lets loose a viper like Julius Caesar beneath the bed sheets of his own wife? Why should I listen to anything a man like that has to say about anything?”
“Because he’s right, you stubborn fool.” But Gabinius was already shouting at the back of his replacement.
Aulus Gabinius left the following morning for Rome. His advice regarding the Parthians was never heeded or even heard. The senate tried him on three counts of treason. He was acquitted on two, but convicted for extortion, with special reference to the ten thousand talents of silver he had accepted from a province that was outside his governorship. His property was confiscated and, like Cicero before him, he was sentenced to the worst fate a Roman citizen could suffer and still live: exile. Five years later, however, Julius Caesar called him back to fight in the civil wars, but Gabinius would raise no hand against his old patron, Pompeius. He died of illness two years after returning from exile.
Chapter XXX
54 BCE - Spring, Antioch
Year of the consulship of
Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus and Appius Claudius Pulcher
I was shaking badly as we made our way back up to our seats. Mercurius had to give me a little push from behind on the final step. The waiting crowd exploded into a roar when they saw the purple of my cloak. It was hard to say whose jaw dropped further, Cassius’ or Melyaket’s, but it was Marcus Antonius, following me up the steps who was first to laugh. “I know!” he said. “Can you believe it?”
Gabinius cornered Cassius Longinus and Petronius, insisting that the two legates meet him in the gallery after the evening meal. There were things he needed to impart to someone of intelligence before he left for Rome, or the army would be ill-prepared to meet Parthia’s defenses.
“What do I do now?” I asked, still standing. Apparently, I was doing it, for the horn blowers played another fanfare and two drivers came onto the field, this time riding in two-horse rigs.