A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow - By Levkoff, Andrew Page 0,9

Marcius Philippus

Our home was not the same after Luca. Rumors of what had happened there spread like weeds. It was my task to uproot and dispose of them wherever I found them, but for every one culled, three more would sprout. How could it be otherwise, for it is one of the rare joys peculiar to those who serve to conjure outlandish stories regarding their masters. If our lives are destined to be plain, at least we may pilfer a little color, however impermanent, by rubbing up against our betters.

In the slaves’ quarters it was whispered that Pompeius Magnus, our master’s lifelong rival, had tried to poison dominus. Dominus had slept with a dining room slave. Domina had found a lover in the stables. Caesar had broken with dominus. Crassus had slept with Caesar. Each tale was more preposterous than the last. Yet every now and then I would be forced to laughingly dismiss a rumor that was not gossip at all, but a stab that cut sickening close to the truth. Caesar had had, or was still having an affair with my lady. Dominus was either impotent, ignorant, or plotting his revenge.

Here is the truth. At Luca, at a gathering of vultures dressed as senators come to pick and tear at the choicest bits of Rome, Julius Caesar raped my lady Tertulla. No good can be born from the coupling of lasciviousness and political ambition, and Caesar fairly bubbled with both. Caesar had called the meeting at Luca because the deteriorating situation in Rome threatened his own political future. Crassus and Pompeius had to stand for consul for a second time to protect the interests of all three, but Caesar’s most of all.

Crassus saw no need to put himself through the frustration of another term with Pompeius. He needed neither the prestige nor the aggravation. When Caesar saw Crassus’ commitment wavering, he knew his campaign in Gaul and his plans for dominion over Britannia and Germania were in jeopardy. My lord Crassus had confided to Caesar that he always harkened to the advice of his wife. Assaulting her was his craven insurance that, as always, Caesar would get what he wanted. If she did not convince her husband to take the consulship and thus, with his tremendous influence, push through the law that would extend Caesar's command another five years, Caesar would make public her "transgression." One more scandal would hardly stain his own reputation: he was already known as a defiler of both men and women. But the house of Crassus was one of the most dignified and respected in Rome. If Tertulla failed to convince her husband to seek the consulship, Caesar would see them in disgrace, destroy her marriage and topple her husband's life's work.

What the villain did not know was that there was a witness to his crime. Crassus himself, exhausted and full of too much wine, came upon them in the dark. To his eternal shame, my master did not act, even when Tertulla’s stricken gaze met his own. Fearing for her husband’s life, Tertulla begged him to withdraw with a silent plea. Caesar would surely have been the victor in a physical contest with the much older man. Unseen, Crassus slipped back into the shadows, rage and shame growing with each step. Their marriage almost ended the next day, but Tertulla convinced him that what he had witnessed was not infidelity, but rape. From that day forward, Marcus Crassus was filled with but one thought: to avenge himself upon Gaius Julius Caesar.

•••

We went about our business quickly, heads bowed, avoiding eye contact, speaking little, as if a stiff, winter wind blew through the halls. One evening, not many weeks after their return, as dominus and domina were taking their couches in the dining room, Eirene, who had been with us since the old days, set a bowl of pomegranates down too quickly, dislodging two pieces of fruit. They rolled off the table and one overripe globe burst upon the floor. Tertulla blinked, keeping her eyes shut an instant longer than was natural. Everyone froze, as if the dear serving woman had shattered one of the family death masks. My new assistant, Lucius Curio, shouted Eirene’s name just as you might bellow at a dog who had defecated on the masters’ bed. I thought the poor woman’s feet had left the ground, she started so.

Before Eirene could get an apology from her quivering lips or her knees to the floor to begin cleaning, Crassus