now?” Livia asked gently.
“Yes, please.”
Hanno was very gentle with the baby; to watch them together only multiplied our sense of loss.
•••
We gave Felix all the love we could for as long as we could. Then we handed him to lady Tertulla and followed our master to war. The separation from Hanno was unspeakable. He had to be physically restrained and no amount of affection or reassurance would stop the flow of his tears.
Those partings chipped another piece from the foundation of what I had convinced myself to think of as my friendship with Marcus Crassus. It fell to the ground, and though it might be repaired with care and time, I would not, could not ever be the one to bend my scarred back to pick it up.
•••
Dominus was not totally heartless; in fact he was generous beyond measure, though his kindheartedness bore the cruelest of ironies. Not only had lady Tertulla promised to personally see to the care of little Felix, our lord made this pledge: if the fates were merciless and neither Livia nor I returned to claim our son within three years, Crassus, or Tertulla in his absence, would go before a magistrate with dominus’ written instructions to perform the ceremony of manumission. He showed us the scroll—a guarantee of our boy’s freedom, including a stipend of 5,000 sesterces a year, until his 25th birthday, at which time a place would be found for him to continue working on the estate as a freedman, if he so chose. All that was required to satisfy this generous arrangement was that both his parents be casualties of Crassus' war.
But what if we lived? What if dominus was right and the Parthians were easily overcome? To survive would condemn the child to a life of servitude. Coming home would be tantamount to making our own son a slave. The obvious and literal escape clause was easily blocked: should either of us run away or attempt to flee, the offer would be rescinded. The only way to free Felix was to die.
To understand how Crassus could imagine that we would be comforted by such an offer, you must see it from his point of view. To him, choosing freedom, a life outside the aegis of his beneficence, was a poor decision indeed. The security, housing, sustenance, sense of familia—the life he gave his slaves was better by far than anything that could be imagined beyond his influence. He was undoubtedly right; Crassus was an exception to the Roman norm. But he also understood, because I had explained it to him on numerous occasions, that servitude to an enlightened master was a viper with seductive and unshakeable fangs: the more a slave was injected with the venom of comfort and security, the more numb he became to his own condition.
So Crassus, knowing what it would mean to Livia and me, would give our son the choice, should we not return, of making his own way in the world. Felix Alexandros would be able to choose his own destiny. From that moment on, there was not a day that passed without the contemplation of our cruel dilemma. We were determined to give our newborn son the chance to become a free man.
•••
The day before Crassus was to hear the decision from the senate regarding his invasion plans, I made yet another attempt to dissuade my master from his costly revenge. We sat together in his office.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” he had said. “I believe my wife was raped. I am going to war because I believe her.”
“She would never betray you,” I said quietly.
“Let me tell you a story,” Crassus said. “I named Publius after my brother. Before he was murdered, one time when we were children, I came upon him playing with a toy catapult that belonged to me. Publius had broken one of the strings that secured the basket and was trying to repair it. I pushed him aside, looked at the damage and saw how easy it would be to fix. I left it in the dirt, and never played with it again.”
I did not know what to say. “You need time.”
“I do not think I am not alone in my misgivings about that night,” Crassus said, “Your lady is finding it more and more difficult to accept what happened that night in Luca. True, it was she who had warned me away with her eyes. But it was I who froze, as hard and as unmoving as quarry marble. And