A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow of Heaven (56 page)

“I still miss you,” I murmured into the damp, disheveled hair
that had fallen about her ear.

She
turned and kissed my neck. “I still want you.”

“Again?”

“No, there’s no time. But let me say it here, while we are still one, while the moonlight carries the scent of the garden to our senses. I love you, Andros, with all my strength.”

I
lifted my head to see her face transformed by the night:  green eyes—black pearls, pale cheeks—living marble. “I live for you, little fox.”

“Don’t. Don’t cry, Alexandros. What will Publius say when we return to the party?”

“He will say,” I said, collecting myself, “‘Praise Jupiter, for Venus, abducted from our midst, is returned. Here, too, comes Momus, god of mockery and satire. The light and dark that had fled our celebration are now restored to us that we may see.’”

“You know,” Livia said, sliding us off the table and
rearranging her clothes, “he probably would say something like that. But be careful, Andros. Momus’ sharp tongue got him banned from Olympus.”

“As long as we leave together, I am ready for exile.”

Hunting for the key, I asked, “How goes it with Musclena?”

“Still an ass. Still limping. It hasn’t helped that
when the army camps in Antioch, I sleep with you here in the Regia.”

“Does the man expect you to
stay in the slums of the fort town?”

“Of course he does. And I wouldn’t mind, either
, except that you’re here. Nebta and Khety send their love, by the way. Don’t worry, I take my satisfaction where I can find it. Somehow, my treatments for headache and toothache have made it into the general log book. Here it is!”

We put everything aside save the letters from our lady, of which there were many.
I braved Livia’s temper to scan each of them myself for word of Felix, for I and I alone was privileged to read
dominus
’ personal mail. And then there was always the possibility that my death warrant was among the sealed pieces of parchment. What would I do if I found it? But then I realized if Tertulla had read my letters to her (I had written more than once) and called me ‘traitor,’ she would have sent word secretly and separately to
dominus
, instructing the courier that her note be hand delivered to her husband and her husband alone. I would not know that I was doomed until they came for me.

Felix
, Crassus was informed, was healthy and happy. Here were a few dim pictures of our son viewed through a window that was barely older than when we had left him. Tertulla’s latest letter to
dominus
was dated Martius, when Felix was six months old. He would be almost a year old now. Was he standing? Walking? Did he have his mother’s eyes? It was cruel beyond measuring to experience his first months secondhand. I was halfway through recounting how Eirene had taken him in a basket to his first festival when Livia stopped me. “I don’t want to know, Andros. As long as he is healthy. I’m sorry. We were stupid to be in such a hurry to torture ourselves.” She kissed me and walked quickly to the entrance of the gallery before turning back to me, her smile weak and forced. “I’ll let them know you’ll be back shortly.”

I understood and agreed with my wife’s sentiment. But I still had work to do
amongst these letters. If there was a positive reply to the note I had sent over six months ago, it would be in the form of a plea to Crassus to return home. But if I found encouragement for his invasion plans, I would know I had failed to convince her. I scanned every letter, and there were dozens. Yet there was no definitive signal either way. My frustration peaked when I realized that it was entirely possible that Tertulla’s reply to my letter might still be in a courier’s pack on its way here, that I had not allowed enough time for my correspondence to reach her and for her response to return to Antioch. No matter, for in short order, I was to discover that I had no time to wait for my lady’s reply. I had to act, and hope that when my intervention was discovered, reason would prevail.

•••

Crassus had drunk too much wine, such was his joy at seeing his son returned to him. Later, I knocked gently on one of the towering doors to his private quarters to see if he had any last needs before retiring. When I entered, I found father and son together, drinking not wine, but citron flavored water.

“Alexander! Come, join us,” Publius said. He was still wearing his military finery, including a chest’s worth of gold
phalerae
, nine all told. They reclined on couches by the bathing pool. “Pour yourself a cup of this marvelous drink. There’s honey there if you find it too tart. Father and I were just discussing our departure date.” Publius had thrown his sword belt on the floor, but his father, already in night clothes, had withdrawn the weapon from its scabbard, hefting it for weight and balance. I stood between them, feeling inexplicably ill at ease.

“A gift from Culhwch,” the young Crassus said. “Longer than a gladius, better reach. I’ve had them made for all my troopers. But Father, if things go the way I’ve planned, there’ll be no need for you to draw a sword. You and Alexander may sit, relax, and count the treasure at your ease.”

“The way
you’ve
planned! Publius, you forget your place.”
So, there it is—a clash of hubris in the air.

“
Is it not my place to serve you? Will I not do this best by using that
spatha
you hold in your hands to sever the head of whatever Parthian general they send against us?”

“I have seven legates, Publius, all accomplished commanders
. Now, I have eight.”

Laughter is not always a welcome sound
, as Publius was now proving. “Accomplished, I don’t doubt it. Within the last decade? Please. There is not a commander south of the Alps with as much fresh experience in the field.”

“I’ll say good night,
then,” I said.

“Stay,” Publius commanded
. “Tell Father, since wine does cloud the vision, that while it is true that all eight of his commanders have been in the field, only one of them has been conquering the enemies of Rome. The rest have been planting grain. Is it not so, old friend?”

I shuffled my feet and glanced longingly at the door.
“Is there anything else you require?”

“Alexander, you have grown useless in my absence.”

“Let him be, Publius. Would you have him set father against son?”

“I’d have him tell the truth.
Father,
imperator
, I did not race all this way from Gaul, driving a thousand Celtic men and their mounts past limits of which even
they
were ignorant, arriving two months earlier than planned just to put the horses out to graze. Let us go to war!”

“
No, my headstrong son. You are right, it is too early for winter quarters, but it is too late in the year to start a campaign. The rains will be here within a month, two at the outside. I will not risk it, especially when there are other conquests more readily at hand.”

“The men could march double-time.”

“The men are not ready,” Crassus said. “Alexander, did you not teach Publius the importance of listening? I’m sure his mother did. Have we written Tertulla today, Alexander? I find myself missing her most acutely.”

My head was swimming. “
We have not,
dominus
, no, not today. Perhaps tomorrow. She will want to hear every detail of Publius’ arrival.”

“Well?” Crassus asked.

“Well…?”

“Did you teach Publius to listen?”

I sighed. “Your son knows a good commander must listen, after which he needs to be heard,
dominus
.”

“
I can only give you half my thanks, Alexander,” said Publius.

“Am I not commander here?” Crassus asked. “Now both of you, pay attention. Alexander, prepare yourself:  you will take umbrage with this stratagem.” Crassus turned to his son and said, “
You should have seen the color drain from his face at Zenodotium.

“
You better than anyone know how much this war will cost, Alexander, and what an extra year encamped in Antioch will mean, provisioning the army and auxiliaries, to say nothing of feed for the animals. We need money. So I have mapped out the perfect solution while we wait for the spring campaign.”
Dominus
looked pointedly at his son. “It is a three-pronged strategy that will not only restock the treasury, it will keep the
cohorts
occupied and sharp until we unleash you, Publius, on your next conquest.

“
First, we levy contingents from every sizable Syrian town, from Antioch to the Judean border. We don’t need more auxiliaries, so at the first cry of hardship, we will reluctantly accept a fair equivalent of silver as compensation for each village’s lack of patriotism.

“
Step two. We march south and pay a visit to the good people of Hierapolis.”

“
Dominus
, no,” I said, horrified.

“I know this city,” Publius said, his eyes widening t
o sapphires. “You don’t intend—”

“I do.
There sits the Temple of Atargatis, and we shall have it.”

“Now there is
a plum worth picking. Father, I did not believe you had it in you.”

“
Nor did I
. Dominus
, it is sacrilege, madness.”

Crassus
sighed and pinched the bridge between his eyes. “Why must you continually urinate on the flame of our ambition. You have become short-sighted, Alexander, and frankly, tiresome.”

“I am unhappy,” Publius said, “to see my father vexed by you. Is this how things have changed in my absence? Why should we care, in any case?” Publius asked, nodding to a servant for more citron water to be poured. “What is Atargatis to us?”

“Publius,
you are changed if you can no longer reason it out. Atargatis, Astarte, Inanna, Ishtar, Isis, Artemis; these are all one goddess known by many names.”

“
There is nothing wrong with my reason, or my memory. Though I do not recall such impertinence from you.”

Publius rose off his couch and wrested the sword from his father
, who said, “Proof, then, that you were not paying attention.”

“Of course I am changed, tutor,”
Publius continued, ignoring Crassus. “Who do you think it was who set me on this path? Are you not proud of your handiwork? I am a Roman.” He held the sword out in front of him, balanced on his open palms. “This is who I am.”

“I did not teach you
the sword. I taught you philosophy, mathematics, honor, integrity. Have you forgotten those?” I said, my voice rising.

Publius
had the great sword half-sheathed, but stopped. He turned his head to me. “Have you, tutor, forgotten your place?”

“So you are reconciled
, then, to a few more less strenuous months on the west bank of the Euphrates?” Crassus asked of his son, as if none of this altercation was in progress.

Publius shoved the sword home and stood.
“I have heard, now that we speak of it, that the doors to the temple are fifteen high and covered in hammered gold. The statue of the goddess is molded of solid gold and studded with precious stones.”

“My lord
, we do not need the money,” I pleaded.

“Do not forget the pilgrims,”
dominus
said, “who trek hundreds of miles to lay an unending stream of rare artifacts and offerings at her feet.”

“
I’m beginning to like this plan,” said Publius, clearly enjoying my distress.

“It is settled. We will go to Hierapolis.
I say we do need the funds, and the army needs the discipline of the engagement,” Crassus said.

“
We do
not
need the money,” I insisted, “and will prove it, if you let me. Are you speaking,
dominus
, of the discipline the men displayed at Zenodotium,” I said.

“Mind your tongue,” Publius snapped.

My tongue, it seemed, had a mind of its own. “Millions of our subjects worship Atargatis,” I protested, “millions more again whom Rome would conquer. She is the Great Mother, goddess of fertility, creativity and destruction. The moon is her sign, as powerful as the sun. Do this, and plant a forest’s worth of rebellious seeds.”

“Let them grow,” said Crassus. “Winning this war is everything. All else is vapor.”

“Why do you bother, Father. We have been too kind to this one for too long. Remember what you once told me: after forty, they become intractable. Alexander, your time is past.”

Crassus said, “
Now, I won’t have talk like that, Publius. Alexander understands. He knows we don’t begrudge these children their bedtime stories. Let Atargatis rule the night, so long as the people know that Rome rules the day.”

Though I was reeling from what this
newly minted stranger had just spat at me, I said what needed to be said. I had never done otherwise. “
Dominus
, Syria is your province to govern with a just and even hand. Have you forgotten the reception Gabinius received at the hippodrome the day before he departed Antioch? They will
hate
you for this, my lord. Is this the legacy you seek, to be reviled, like Pompeius on the day of the elephants?”