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 had reached down and just calm as you please, scooped up some of the pulpy mess. He leaned over his couch and smeared a dripping handful of fruit across his mouth. Looking like he’d taken a sword thrust through the mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. We were all mesmerized by this performance, including my lady. At last, I gestured to a dining room attendant who handed dominus a towel. Wiping his face and hands slowly and deliberately, Crassus said, “That was perfect, Eirene. See if you can find me another as ripe as this and I shall ravish it in the more traditional manner.” Most of the familia thought the master’s humor mollifying, but I winced at his choice of words. A moment later Tertulla rose, and crying quietly, fled the triclinium. Crassus cursed softly and quickly followed, leaving us to clear and preserve the untouched platters in brittle silence.
I asked Curio to walk with me and found an empty room lit by a single lamp. “Lucius,” I said, “how are you settling in?”
“My quarters are exceedingly adequate,” Curio sniffed, examining his perfectly manicured nails. “Does that amuse you?” he asked, depressing an errant cuticle on his thumb with the nail of a forefinger.
“No, not at all. I smile only because you remind me of myself when I first came to this house.”
“Why is that, Alexandros?” he asked, studying his hands, “What affectation of personality do you find we have in common?”
“Honestly, the one that comes to mind at the moment is insubordination. Lucius, I am obligated to give you a word of kind advice.”
“Then I must be obligated to give heed.”
“Please begin to do so,” I said in as even a tone as I could manage, “by looking at me when I am addressing you.” Lucius Calpurnius Curio raised his gaze and smiled benignly at me. His eyes, grey or pale blue depending on how the light hit them, were now steely and devoid of color. The bridge of his nose was broad, and I found my focus flicking back and forth between his own unmoving stare. In an instant I felt that I was the one being scrutinized and deconstructed, like a heap of Lucretius’ elemental ‘atoms.’ I cleared my throat and pressed on. “I am aware that when you served Lucius Calpurnius Piso our positions were of equal rank. I am sensitive to the difficulty this must pose for you now, working in a much greater house.”
Without taking his eyes off mine, and with a look that suggested complete attention to my every syllable, as I spoke, Curio braced the lowest joint of the middle finger of his left hand between the thumb and forefinger of his right; with a smooth, round motion he pulled up upon it until there was an audible crack. He kept at this with his other fingers until I finally had to ask him to stop.
“Lucius, I am unaware of any offence done to you as a result of my behavior, but if any such blunder exists, I humbly apologize.” Curio’s open face, slightly raised eyebrows and half smile was the perfect engineering of flesh and bone to make me feel as foolish as possible for even suggesting such a thing. “All right, we’ve both work to do. Let’s get down to it, shall we?” I said. “Until I give you leave to do otherwise, when we are both present among the staff, it is not your place to chastise any servant not directly under your purview. I am speaking of your treatment of Eirene. And when I am not present, Lucius, learn from dominus. Be gentle, be lenient, be understanding. Our master did not cultivate the largest, most skilled, educated army of servants in Rome by being feared. The Palatine estate may be served by hundreds, but we are all still familia. I want you to be a part of it. Is that understood?
“You have my solemn word that I will follow your instructions to the best of my abilities.”
“Good. Very good. One last thing. You have been with us almost two months. I would like two lists from you in my office by the end of the week: one-any physical items or training which you feel you lack in order to perform you current list of responsibilities to your highest capabilities; and any personal grievances or issues that you and I need to address in order to have the best possible working relationship for the benefit of the house we now both serve. You may go.”