A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow of Heaven (61 page)

“One of your finest features. That and your whistling. How is Hanno?”

“Oblivious. Soon he’ll be destroyed, like the rest of us.”

“You’ll see to him, though.”

“He was surviving before he met you. I expect he’ll do as well when you’ve gone.”
She inhaled deeply and blew the air out slowly. “I came out here with half a hundred questions to which I already knew the answers. There’s no point to any of it, is there?” Her voice constricted with her breathing. “You’ve killed yourself, Andros. And murdered me.”

“I’m hoping you’ll f
orgive me.”

“No. I never shall.
”

“I know. I understand.”

“I understand, too, I do. I know why you did what you did. But you had no right.”

“Little fox, I had no choice.”

“You
always
have a choice, you stupid man! Who gave you the right to act as one? You were not one. We were the three of us. You had no right.” Her voice trailed off, but she refused to allow any tears to fall.

“What if
you
were given the chance, Livia, to do something you knew was just and good? Something that would make right at least a little of the wrong.”

“I would never leave you;
I would never leave our son.”

“Even if it meant
your freedom?”             

“Death is not freedom, Alexandros. It’s just death.
”

Livia put Felix down on the ground
beyond the beam above my right arm. He sat, crossing his chubby legs, happily bubbling to himself as the patch of ground before him became a new unexplored universe. She wasn’t tired of holding him. She wanted her hands free.

“
I swear to the ancient gods,” she said, unleashing the storm that had to come, “you are so ignorant I could kill you myself.” On the last word she pounded my chest with her fists. “Look at you! Where is your philosophy now? What good can come of this, tell me that. You are a selfish, thoughtless man. How could you do this to yourself? I really, really want to hate you, Andros, truly I do.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Be quiet! So what if you did the right thing? How will the world change except that it will lose a little of its brightness when you have gone? For pity’s sake, Andros, even the soldiers who bind you cry for you. Gods, you are the most distressing of idiots! Did you never stop to consider that there are things you could have done while alive, but absolutely nothing you can do now, except die?”

“You make a valid point.”

Livia made a noise deep in her throat. “You are stupefying, you and your logic. Now we both will suffer, but you are so selfish, you do not even see that I will suffer for a lifetime longer than you. Take that with you on your journey.”

“I had to try.”

“No, Alexandros
, you really did not. But you are a man of principle, aren’t you? A man of ideals. And it is clear that this absurd gesture of yours means more to you than life, more to you than me, or your son, or our life together.” Livia’s hands went to her face. When she removed them, they were wet with angry tears. “I swore I wouldn’t do this.”

There was no time. I could see the officer motioning to Malchus.
“Will you kiss me?” I asked.

“I won’t stay to watch this. I won’t.”

“Of course. You must leave. It will be agony to watch you go.”

“Listen to me.” She leaned in close. “These
two tiny vials are glass, filled with a concentrate of opium. When I leave I will put one between each cheek and gum. When you are ready, bite down hard on the vials. It’s not enough to kill you, but you’ll be unconscious when…it happens.”

“I’m afraid, Livia.”

She put her arms around my neck. She was suddenly my Livia again, and now I was losing her. “What will I do tomorrow,” she said, kissing my cheeks and eyelids, “when I wake and remember that you are no longer in the world?”

“Carry the memory of us with you. I will carry the scent of your hair with me.”

“Don’t be afraid to tell me. I won’t be angry. I need to hear it. Please.”

“Thank you,” I said, weeping. “I didn’t think you wanted me to say it. Livia, how I
have loved you. When Sulla’s archer shot me all those years ago and I almost died, you were the first sight that met my eyes at my rebirth. When I close them at the end, my last thought will be of you.”

“I wanted
so much more for us.”

“Malchus!” the
optio
called.

From the road, I heard my friend ask,
“Can he not be untied so they may have one final embrace?”

“Look at the sun
. We’ll be lucky if we’re all not whipped for this.”

Livia held my face in her hands and kissed my lips,
a fleeting eternity of touch that would never come again. “If I did not have our child,” she said, pulling away from me, “I would follow you.”

“Then I must hope
that after I am judged, after you have lived your life, I may find you on the fields of Elysium.”

She laughed as she cried. “And all this time I thought you were one of the most intelligent men I had
ever known. Goodbye, my sweet
pelargós
.”

“Goodbye, love.”

Livia slipped the thin vials into my mouth, took Felix into her arms, rose and walked down the hill.

•••

With the help of the
optio
, who held my legs steady on the foot rest, Malchus and Betto dragged me back past the waiting hole so that the foot of the post fell over the top of the opening, but not into it. Another legionary took Malchus’ place on the left side of the beam. Drusus came behind me, squatted, wrapped a saddle blanket around the post, slid his arms around between the wood and the backs of my thighs and with the other legionaries helping marginally, shoved, heaved and tilted the cross up till it dropped into the hold of its own weight. That was jarring, I can tell you, even with several arms supporting me to cushion the blow. Once upright, Malchus and Betto held the cross vertical while other legionaries tamped earth and stones into the remaining space to secure it.

My first reaction
once the
optio
released my calves so that my weight was borne entirely by my arms tied at the wrists was to recognize that this was a death by degrees. Which is to say, it wasn’t that bad, not at first. To alleviate the pain in my shoulders and sides from hanging limp, I could use my chest and arm muscles to pull myself higher. It was almost like exercise. When I relaxed, my sides stretched, my shoulders bunched and it became a little more difficult to breathe, but I could manage. I put my feet on the rest, now three feet above the ground, and let my knees swing to the side. Betto came up to me and readjusted my
subligaculum
, making sure it was fit snugly about my loins. I nodded my thanks.

He
stepped back beside Malchus and the
optio
pronounced the work complete. Till sunset, the full guard would remain to discourage gawkers. Nights would be taken in four-hour shifts by a squad of four soldiers. Malchus and Betto would not be among them. The officer was assigning them duties elsewhere.

“Take your leave now,” he said. “You won’t see this fellow again.
I’m doing you a favor, believe me.”

Betto asked, “What’s the ladder for?”

“General’s orders. Once a shift, the condemned is allowed half a cup of water.”

“You’re joking?” said Betto. Malchus slapped
him on the back of his shoulder.

“No, I mean, really? It’s
generous and all, but is it a kindness, prolonging the inevitable?”

The
optio
asked me, “Are you thirsty?” I shook my head. “Right. Then I’ll be off. You men be quick about it. Son, your friend Betto’s got a point. If it was up to me, I’d turn it down when it’s offered to you. This is the kind of thing you want to get over as quick as possible, and you’re already at a disadvantage with no wounds or broken bones. But suit yourself.” Before I could begin to thank him he had turned and marched off.

Malchus reached out and held the back of my calf.
He looked up and said, “We’ve shared a better, longer road than most.”

“
‘Been a good friend,” I said, the pinched strangeness in my voice hopefully excusable.

Betto said, “See, he doesn’
t want to talk. We’ll go.”

“Keep my knives, Betto.”

“I will,” he said, tugging at the sleeve of Malchus’ tunic. “We won’t forget you, Alexander.”

•••

Across the valley, the sun was sitting on top of the coast range, forcing me to close my eyes. Down below, I could hear the crowd slowly seeping away. After all, it was time for the evening meal, there were chores to complete, and frankly, not much to be seen here, just a middle-aged man tied to a pole in his underthings. Hardly a show worth the lingering. To be sure, the entertainment was free, but it was also living proof that you got what you paid for. It was not long before the legionaries had no one to hold back; the cavalry clopped off toward the fort, the detachment gathered their gear and followed suit, and the first four legionaries on watch set about making camp down by the road. They offered me water. I declined.

I tried squinting one eye partially open. The sun had sunk halfway below the rim of the Amanos, and a trick of the light had turned the Orontes into a coruscating ribbon rushing through the valley.
Crassus had chosen a lovely spot for my drawn-out demise. While I watched, the sun, having tired of the day, lowered itself till it was no more than a god’s fingernail above the ridge. Then it dropped into the sea, splashing bolts of color skyward. In the city, lamps already lit now became visible, a gathering of fireflies that welcomed the first stars.

It was about an hour
(or so it seemed) into my execution that I began to feel my first real discomfort. The fatigue in my arms was becoming noticeable; my shoulders ached and I had to let myself hang for a long while to avoid getting a cramp in my left chest muscle. I had used the foot rest for little more than a place to keep my body weight from pulling even further on my arms, but now I realized my breathing had become shallow and I was having difficulty exhaling. I pushed up till I was on the balls of my feet and blew out a long breath. My head cleared almost instantly.

While I was thus elevated, I considered the vials still present in my mouth. I was looking down a dark spiral of increasing pain; every moment I persisted was
as good as I was ever going to feel ever again. The next moment would be worse, and the one after that, more distasteful still. There would be no rest from this exertion, no hiatus where I could gather myself to begin again. I could not scratch the infernal itch on my cheek, nor alleviate the growing agony at the top of my shoulders. My legs began to tire and I let myself hang from my arms once again.

Imagine this if you can: 
while I hang upon the cross, do not let every hurt I describe fade from your memory as you put each scroll aside. Rather, try to let each description of an insult to my body compound and layer upon the next, building into a glorious fanfare of pain. While it may not be an entirely accurate representation of my sentence of execution, it will pull you much closer to the awful experience than these scribblings could possibly achieve without assistance. If that is your wish.

I had never wanted to sink my teeth into any succulent, steaming
roast boar as much as I desired to slice my gums and tongue apart on the bitter contents of those glass vials. But I could not do it. I let myself hang for as long as I could, then minutes later as my breath grew shallow, I pulled myself up again. Livia had provided the antidote to my ordeal, but I could not take it yet. I could not allow any suspicion to fall upon her. I could not die too soon. I had to be strong. Not my worst quality, but certainly not my finest.

I had to think.

It was dark. The men below were seated around a campfire, talking, eating, drinking, ignoring me. Were they the same legionaries that began the first watch? My mouth was paste. I should have taken the water. Too late. They were too far away and I did not want to waste a painful breath or worse, risk expelling a vial by calling out.

To protect Livia, I had to survive until morning. I swore to myself I would not crack the vials till I could see the sun
ignite the highest peaks of the Amanos Mountains.

•••

You cannot know what it was like, and I am fully aware that you do not want to know. But this thing was done to me and done by me—to know my story, and the story of my master, you must be strong and hear me out. To communicate the torment of this cruelty, to give you even the smallest inkling of the madness of a Roman hanging, I must crawl inside myself and speak of those hours as I have remembered them for each of the thousands of days since I said my farewells to the world, to everything and everyone in it that I loved. And when I am done, when I have described this abomination to you, you must ask yourself who it is you condemn more, the man who passed judgment, or the man who brought the sentence upon himself.