A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow - By Levkoff, Andrew Page 0,7

of M. Licinius Crassus

Rome, Quintilis

I have much to say to you and hardly know where to begin. First and above all others: do not expect my gratitude for your foolhardiness. Why would you risk everything for me? Someone with the right to stop Caesar probably would have come along, and if not, who are we to resist? What if he had asked dominus for permission and it had been granted? Would you have tried to save me then? Whether he raped me or let me go—these things are both of a kind, the same side of the same coin. We are nothing. You less than I, had your intervention gotten you killed. I do not want you to be my hero.

It is late and I am tired. I would feed what I have written to the brazier and start again had I more time and parchment. You are brave and kind, Alexandros. You are also a fool, but maybe I have been one as well. I know you expect no words of gratitude, but you shall have them anyway. I could not bring myself to wake you, and they will not hold the ship. I must leave for Ostia before dawn. Thank you for rescuing me.

I think that maybe I can say what I am about to say, even after all this time, because I am leaving and must write my feelings down rather than speak them to your face. You see, I am a coward as well as a fool, and will not risk the lash of your remonstrations. After Sabina was sent away I could not approach you, first from anger, then from sorrow, and finally from shame. The more time that passed, the easier it was to let it go. To let us go.

I ask your forgiveness. I was so young when we fell in love—barely seventeen, and then came the awful business with my mother. I despised and blamed you when dominus sent her to the mines for killing poor Tessa. I hated you for proving her guilt. But here is the truth I have never spoken till now: Sabina was a murderer. Not you. You did what you always do: you chose the right over the good. She did an awful thing, a crime to be punished and reviled. But I could not bring myself to lay those loathsome feelings upon my own mother. So I draped them over you, and poisoned everything that was ever good between us.

I must speak to you of Lykos. Sabina was gone, I had turned my heart against you, and I had no one. I was miserable, and Lykos was kind. It is unbearably sad that he came to such a terrible end, but the truth is, I hated myself for never being able to fully return the feelings he had for me. I could love no one in those days. It is a terrible thing to say, but when he died, part of me was relieved. And something else. It was my time with Lykos that showed me that my love for you was real. And that I care for you still.

I need to get away from here, from this house, from the memories and the pain. Bless domina and dominus for allowing me to make this choice. I need to find myself again. Sitting by you while you slept reminded me of the first time I saw you—shot by one of Sulla’s archers all those years ago. If you would only learn to keep your mouth shut your health would drastically improve! See—I am learning to smile again. When I return, I hope to be a new person, with new purpose and new hope.

It is almost dawn, and I have yet to pack. Wish me well. Write. I promise to reply with speed. Livia

•••

I read the letter over and over again, sitting on the edge of my lectus. When I finally dropped the scroll to the floor, I had practically committed it to memory. I thought about the years she would be away. Then, for the longest while, I sat very still, my head in my hands, and tried with a shaking will to think of absolutely nothing at all.

•••

That was six years ago. And now the carriages which carried her and the others were pulling up to the gates. Domina had allowed a small crowd to assemble in welcome. I stood on the curb, but as the familia pressed forward around me, suddenly I turned and