A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow - By Levkoff, Andrew Page 0,52

with both hands. Alexandros, the brave, skinny shield!

To Malchus, the apparition said, "Sheathe your sword, Drusus,” his voice muffled by the silver face mask. I knew then, to my shame, that my terror had transformed metal into living flesh. Fear is an excellent mathematician—dividing allies with mistrust, multiplying misgivings into dread. “You are relieved, legionary,” the splendid terror continued, “though I see we have arrived too late to make this a perfect rescue.” The stranger’s horned head turned toward the bodies on either side of his mount. His horse had not shied—it was either well-trained or well-accustomed to the sight and smell of human blood. Malchus cocked his head and lowered his weapon. “As for you!” the masked rider said, turning that hideous visage up to me (to me!?), “Is it really your intent to skewer your favorite student with that thing?”

My poor befuddled brain, while recognizing that danger had just o’erflew us like the dappled shadows from a murder of crows, was as yet bereft of the power of speech. I stood there, able only to cock my head like a dog that has just heard a strange noise. Which, you may be sure, we had.

“Master?” the rider asked. “Are you unwell?”

A gentle punch in the back from Livia jarred my ears and tongue at last.

“Publius? Publius!”

Pulling the Celtic helmet from his head, Marcus Crassus' youngest son laughed. “Apologies, master, I could not help myself! You looked about as frightened as my brother and I were the day you burned your sandals onto your feet saving Father.” He slid off his horse and stepped smartly to stand before me. Relief turned to joy as I held out my hand to the little lord I had entertained and tutored for over a dozen years.

“I didn’t save him—” I started.

“Oh, no,” Publius said, slapping my arm aside, “we’ll have none of that.” He threw his arms around me, pressed his head into my shoulder, squeezed the breath from my lungs, then hoisted me into the air as if I were a sack of lentils. A very light sack of lentils. “Gods, but it’s good to be home!”

“Your homecoming must have been timed by the gods,” I said, struggling to regain my composure after he set me back down. “Tragedy was imminent.”

“I know. I saw. These two weren’t citizens, I trust?” He referred to the dead gladiator and the man I had dispatched. Gladiators rarely were, though none of us could say, and Herclides was silent. “Father wrote to tell me how badly we were needed. Apologies, though, for this one,” he said, pointing to Valens.

Malchus said, “He was your father’s man. Valens. Minucius Valens. He fell to buy us a little time…from these,” he added, pointing.

“Then he died a soldier’s death, a hero’s death, and earned a soldier’s sendoff. We’ll cremate him with all honors, if his own people will permit it.”

“Sir,” Malchus started, “his family will be honor…”

“Livia!” Publius declared, his attention too magnanimous to linger in any one place, “I’d recognize that hair from a thousand paces.”

“Dominus.”

“Tell me true, now, did I see that hand of yours in my tutor’s?” Four cheeks reddened, but there was no time for reply. Publius suddenly and rather startlingly sank to one knee before Cornelia Metella. “Aphrodite come to earth!” he said, holding out his arms. The lady Cornelia smiled in spite of herself. “I beg you, tell me by what name you wish to be called while you grace us with your immortal presence. I shall replace every one of our house gods the moment I have crossed our threshold with dozens, hundreds of your likeness.” Publius rose without waiting for an answer, unclasped his red cloak and gallantly swirled it over the women’s heads and wrapped it about both their shoulders.

“Do that,” lady Cornelia said, tilting her head ever so slightly, “and you will bring the wrath of all the gods that protect the house of Crassus down upon us. I don’t think I’d care for that. It might interfere with your plans to court me.”

“And bold as well,” Publius said, snapping his fingers without taking his eyes off lady Cornelia. The closest legionary removed his cloak and ran to his commanding officer. Instead of draping it over any one or two of the rest of us shivering lot, he clasped it about his own shoulders.

“Dominus,” I said, “may I borrow one of your men to announce your arrival?” Publius called forth a rider; I instructed him to speak only to