A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow - By Levkoff, Andrew Page 0,176

Tertulla answered, “I regretted my negativity, and my attempt to dissuade the proconsul from some of his…strategic goals. I had no idea when the courier might arrive, but remembered, thank Minerva, the discarded draft. I recovered it and intended to show it to the proconsul at the earliest opportunity, whether or not the original had been delivered. I would have done, but your haste in accusing an innocent man has robbed me of my private confession.”

The two outside aisles of the Great Hall had been filled all the way to the entrance when the afternoon session had begun. Now, the same number of people pressed themselves into half the space, ears and necks craning. In the entire center aisle there remained only myself and my two guardians.

While Crassus was doling out admonishments, I was thinking. “This all strikes me as highly inconclusive,” he said. “Legate Crassus, you and your informant have acted with imprudence and haste. I charge you to be sure of your facts before you waste the court’s time.” Crassus motioned for the forgery to be handed over to him. “Lady Tertulla, you and I shall have a further conversation regarding the contents of this letter.”

What I was thinking was this:

Rome stole your life from you—for 32 years you have lived a life without choice.

I have a wife.

In this moment, you are free. You chose this path. Now walk it.

I have a son.

Tertulla wants to save my life, but not my freedom.

I love and I am loved; I have friends, and a life that may justly be called my own.

If you let yourself be rescued, every day you will awaken not only a slave, but a coward.

“Dominus!” I called, wincing at the pain in my jaw. “I can prove that the letter is a forgery and that I am its author.”

Crassus looked down at me with anger and disbelief. “Do you accuse the lady Tertulla of lying?”

“She is trying to protect me, and for that I thank her and beg you to forgive her.”

“I am not saying I will accept your proof, but I ask you this: why would you do such a thing, when it could mean your life?”

“Because, dominus, the life you speak of does not belong to me. It is yours. Watch now, as I take it back. I declare, Marcus Crassus, that you are wrong, that what you plan here is wrong, that every greatness you have taken a lifetime to achieve will turn to dust if you cannot remember the humane statesman you once were. Be that man again. Leave Hierapolis in peace. Leave Jerusalem in peace. Leave Parthia in peace.”

“Treason,” Publius said. The crowd stirred.

The old majordomo banged his staff for silence. “Nothing has changed, Alexander,” Crassus said quietly. “Your life still belongs to me.”

“You are wrong, dominus. Look about you. There are too many witnesses. You must follow the law. This time, you must finish it. Now here is my proof. You hold the letter in your hand. Ask your lady to recite any part of it.”

Domina’s eyes begged me to stop. She turned to her husband and said, “That is an unfair question. The letter was written months ago.” Even dominus could hear her voice tighten with the tension of a lie.

“Forgive me, domina,” I said, “but in truth, the letter was written yesterday.” I began to quote. “‘Rome has need of you—’”

“Stop!” Crassus shouted. “I forbid it!”

“Let him speak!” someone called from the crowd. The cry was echoed and repeated till it swelled throughout the Great Hall. Crassus looked at his legates but all were thin-lipped and stone-faced. My own face, at least one side of it, felt as if it were being filled with concrete. The striking of the majordomo’s staff reverberated in my head.

“You are mad,” Crassus said to me as if we were the only two in the hall.

“They say, dominus,” I said when I knew that he could hear me, “that over as many years as I have served you, it is not unusual for the slave to exhibit the personality of the master.”

“Impudence!” Publius snorted. He raised his hand.

“Do not touch him!” Crassus roared, and his son’s men backed away. “Go on then, madman, move your piece on the board. But the game is mine.”

“Before I do this thing,” I said in a quiet voice, shaking free of the guards, “since I may not be given the chance afterwards, allow me to say that, in spite of certain difficulties between us, a few disagreements