A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow of Heaven (59 page)

The late afternoon sun was
slicing through the western windows as the grand personage of Alchaudonius, king of the Rhambaean nomads was announced by the resident majordomo, a white-bearded ancient whose staff was of far greater utility keeping this relic of the Regia vertical than it was for announcing newcomers. Alchaudonius, in flowery peroration, claimed that during the time Gabinius had abandoned his province to dally in Egypt, he had been attacked by a litany of thieves, robbers and pirates. He begged, no, he demanded justice and restitution! His highness was at least the tenth to do so. My mindfulness of his troubles, or the paucity of the judgment he received was less than enthusiastic, for I was next in line.

“What
cruel sport is this?!” Crassus leapt from his seat when the good king’s entourage parted and there I stood before my lord and master, feeling alone and foolish.
Dominus
would have tripped on his toga had not Octavius and Petronius risen to catch him. The hall, which had maintained a steady buzz of noise had gone utterly still, for Curio’s entertainment had now begun.

Publius rose
from his place to the left of Octavius. “Proconsul Crassus, I bring charges of treason against this slave.”

“Impossible.” Crassus sat back down. I could see he was trying to work out if he was being made the butt of
an enormously inappropriate joke.

“May I present my evidence?” Publius asked.

“If you are serious, this is not a matter to be heard at this time.” One look at Publius’ hard expression and
dominus
’ voice became unsure. “I will hear your evidence in my quarters.” A murmur of doubt swept the crowd.

“Eminence, for ten years the good people of Antioch have been waiting for the justice of Rome. They have been waiting for Crassus.” A cheer went up.
“Let the governor show he is a just man. Let him prove to the people that he believes in the rule of law, that it applies in his own home, even as it applies in the streets of Antioch!”
Publius’ tongue was as skillful as his lance.
“Show all of Syria, here in this hall of justice, that Rome is just, that Gabinius is truly gone, and that under Crassus, a new regime has begun!”

When he could be heard again, Crassus held out his hand.
“Show me the evidence.”
Dominus
looked down at me as if to ask what ridiculous insanity was afoot. I could not meet his eye.

Publius stepped across the dais and handed his father the letter
that I had only hours before slipped into the correspondence box. Crassus took a moment to read it. He looked up and shrugged, shaking the humid air out of a fold in his toga before readjusting it. “A letter from my wife. I have never seen it before.”

“It is newly arrived,” Publius said.

Crassus asked, “Alexander, have you seen this?”

“Yes,
dominus
,” I answered, but the words withered at the back of my throat. I bit my tongue, swallowed and tried again. “Yes,
dominus
. I have seen it. I have read it. And it was I who wrote it.”

“You are mistaken,” Crassus
chided, ignoring the muttering building all around him, especially from his commanders. “While the sentiments expressed are upsetting and contradictory to my purpose, there is nothing treasonous here. Its contents are private; a letter from my spouse, nothing more.”

Publius said, “
With respect, proconsul, ask Lady Tertulla to confirm the authenticity of this document.”

“Legate, do you not
think me capable of recognizing my own wife’s handwriting?”

“Sir, please.”

“Go on then, but I am warning you, commander, neither the good people of Antioch nor I will stand to have our time wasted much longer.”

Publius started across the dais and down the steps. I
looked at my mistress, and saw anything but resolve. I could not let her lie for me. “
Dominus
, my lady …”

“Legionary,” Publius
barked, “silence the prisoner.” One guard tightened his grip on me and the other brought his fist across my cheek and jaw. I did not completely lose consciousness, but I did require help standing for the next few moments. In addition to the startling amount of astonishing pain, it was a curious thing to see a bolt of lightning strike
inside
my head.

“…
is my handwriting,” lady Tertulla was saying as I came to myself.

Publius was struck dumb, but not Curio. He leapt to his feet and shouted, “
That’s not true!”

Crassus
snapped, “If I hear another disrespectful word from you, your back shall pay the price for your tongue’s insolence.”

“A
bject apologies, proconsul.”

“Now what part do you have to play in all of this?”
Crassus asked with exasperation.

Curio looked to Publius.
Dominus
’ son said, “It was the freedman who brought this unfortunate deceit to my attention, proconsul. He discovered a draft of this letter,” he said, holding up the original, “crumpled on the floor of the accused.”

“That does not surprise me,” lady Tertulla announced, “since that is where I must have dropped it
accidentally when I first arrived in Antioch. Thank you, Curio, for retrieving it for me.”

“Mother
…,” Publius started, “lady Tertulla, do you mean for us to believe that you have been carrying a crumpled copy of a letter you wrote over six months ago, on your person with you all the way from Rome?”

“
That is exactly what I mean to tell you.”

“One moment,
please.” Octavius leaned over to Crassus and said in a voice I barely heard, “General, hadn’t we better clear the room? This is not state business.”

“
No need,” Crassus replied. “Publius is right:  a just man must act with consistency, whether at home or in public. Let them see I do not fear scrutiny. In any case, this will all be over shortly.” In a louder voice, he said, “Continue, legate.”

“Lady Tertulla, w
hat would possess you to do such a thing?” There was clear disbelief in Publius’ voice. A sneer of contempt curled across Lucius Curio’s lips.

“The minute I let the original out of my hands,” lady 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 here and there, it has been an honor, Marcus Licinius Crassus, to serve you.” Then, as loud as my bruised face and terrified heart would allow, I said, pointing to the parchment in his hand, “Follow along, if you like. ‘Rome has need of you, the signs are strong for your return. The Tiber has overflowed its banks, drowning crops and causing much wreckage in the city. The people blame the manner of your departure and the curse of Ateius. I, too, have dreamed of a great river, not of water, but of sand.’ Shall I go on?”

“
There,” Publius said, “he proves his own guilt.”

Petronius, his eyebrows furrowed, said, “This is no proof, Alexander.” I’ve always been fond of Petronius. “Lucius Curio says he found a draft of the letter in your room. It is possible for you to have read the letter and committed it to memory.”

“You are a good man, Petronius,” I said, “and I wish you and every legionary in the army of Crassus a safe and speedy return home. What folly it would be for me, however, to find the note, and instead of returning it immediately to its owner, which you know I would do, to read it, commit it to memory, crumple it up once more and drop it onto the floor of my room. Additionally, I think you will find that the crumpled draft is incomplete. The excerpt I recited can only be found on the final letter.”

There was some additional bickering, several more well-meant attempts to undo what was perceived as my self-sacrifice, but in the end
there could be no doubt, and with a crowd that smelled and demanded blood, Crassus was forced to give it to them.

He rose
and walked to the edge of the dais. “Alexander, slave of house Crassus,” he said, in a tone that disturbed me almost as much as the words themselves. He spoke as if this were merely another intellectual game played between us, where as usual, I was outmatched. “I find you guilty of forgery, manifest theft of the identity of a Roman citizen, with intent to subvert another citizen. According to the
Law of the Twelve Tables
, the penalty
is death.

“
So that all present may know that Rome is a fair and equitable administrator, even within its own house, I pronounce sentence upon you. Tomorrow, two hours before the setting of the sun, you will be taken to the hill outside the northern gates of the city. There you will be crucified.”