“And you haven’t even seen them. Once ashore, the three of us became inseparable. I couldn’t sleep with you…”
“I begged dominus. He could have made an exception, made you his personal physician, placed your quarters adjacent to his. He said it would destroy morale.”
“And he was right, Andros. Inside the camp is no place for a woman.”
“And outside is better?”
“It’s not so bad. Our tent is large, the girls are popular; they’ve even hired on servants and a mule.”
“I suppose it could be worse. At least dominus was thoughtful enough to post guards for your protection.”
“Oh, that wasn’t dominus. That was Octavius. He posted legionaries at all the brothel tents to maintain order. A good thing, too, or my rest would go from little to none. Which brings me, once again, to my clever friends.” Livia unsealed the wine skin and drank.
Octavius? Once again, I had failed my lessons in the Academy of Crassus. What presumption to think that my thirty years of service, my contubernium with his own house healer, my advice and loyalty would raise the two of us above thirty-odd thousand others in his thoughts. At the sight of those guards, I had believed he was looking out for us, protecting my wife, displaying some concern for us beyond our use as pieces in this vindictive game he played. Why am I not inured? Why with each passing year does it become more urgent that Crassus show me some genuine sign of understanding, appreciation, friendship?
“Pelargós, why aren’t you looking disgusted?” She poked me. “You weren’t even listening, were you?”
“I am sorry, love. Am I completely mad, or did I hear something to do with frogs?”
Livia sighed and repeated another tale of the resourcefulness of Nebta and Khety, and this time I did my best to pay attention. The two prostitutes had insisted their new friend share their tent (easily purchased after a night’s work in the crate-clotted alleys off the Dyrrachium docks). It was the evening of their first day’s march up out of the city, before Octavius had organized guards for the camp followers. One very inebriated, very determined young legionary could not be convinced that Livia’s red-hemmed tunic was anything but a costume and was willing to pay double to play “healer and patient.” Khety stayed the attentions of her own client, pulled her hanging veil aside and told the man he did not want this woman, that she was sick with the river slime. Livia was on her knees, her back against the tent wall. Khety set a lamp on the hemp rug. “Look for yourself.” Livia jumped as Khety lifted her tunic. The man leaned in to leer at the target of his lust, swallowed heavily and lurched backwards from the tent. “You touch this woman,” she told the soldier as he staggered off, urgently looking for any safe place to deposit the contents of his stomach, “you never be able to touch another, not with anything between your legs, I promise you that.”
“Am I to understand then, that Khety reached under your tunic and smeared green slime on your vagina before showing your nakedness to a stranger?”
“Green slime with little black dots. Frog’s eggs. The women collect it by the riverbank, store it in jars and take it out whenever the need arises. What’s your preference, husband, show it to a stranger, or let him take it?”
I grimaced. “Does it…are there…you know…?
“Wash off? Smell? Are there little tadpoles swimming around inside me? Does that encompass all your queries?”
“Give my imagination time. Tonight I may wake in a cold sweat with more.”
“At least you have a tent to yourself.”
“A pity we cannot trade. We would see who gets more rest. Crassus is plagued by nightmares.” Dominus had sworn me to secrecy, but that was before my “marriage,” before Felix, and before I had almost lost my wife to the madness of our master’s scheme for revenge against Caesar. She had a right to know. After I had finished telling her the story of what had transpired at Luca, I was stunned by her reaction.
“You make too much of it, Andros. These men will do what they will do. You say you don’t believe in Olympus, love, but you are wrong. There are gods, but they don’t live in the clouds, they walk the earth. The best we can do is stay out of their way and keep from getting trampled.”
Chapter XXIV
55 — 54 BCE — Winter, On the March
Year of the consulship of
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus and Marcus Licinius Crassus Dives
The sun was still bright, but the chill of the afternoon was beginning to bite through our layers of blankets and clothes, and there was no mulsum left to warm us. Our talk of Luca and Caesar was ill-timed. I had poured vinegar over honey.
“I miss our son,” Livia said.
“He is safe.”
“No. He is not here. But he is not safe.”
“Crassus will be victorious, we will return home in triumph, then dominus will exact his vengeance upon Caesar.”
“And condemn Felix to this.” Livia hooked a finger under the chain of her slave plaque, lifted it off the ground and dropped it again.
“There must be a way for us to live and also for Felix to be free. The solution will come to us.”
“War will come to us.” She shrugged.
I turned to face her, smoothing the hair from her face. “I have failed, Livia. Wait, let me say this to you, for I have never spoken of it to anyone.” I picked a twig from her tunic and took a breath. “When I was young, before I was captured, I used to think I would achieve something extraordinary with my life. Not that I was destined for greatness, mind you, but that if I applied myself, I could make great things happen. I would be a great man. Now don’t laugh, this is hard for me to admit. I used to think, there will be famous men among my generation, why shouldn’t I be one of them?”
“What was so important about fame?”
“When you’re young, you think anything is possible. Even fame. But I wasn’t seeking notoriety. I wanted to make a difference; perhaps become a great philosopher and change the way we see the world. Or a sculptor. A playwright. I don’t know, something. Have you never felt this way?”
“Not ever. But I love that you feel that way.”
“Felt. When I was taken, I could hear the gods laughing.”
She took my hand and kissed it. “I am here, and I am not laughing. You would have done it, Andros. You are just the sort to make such dreams come true. If they’d only let you be. I curse them for it.”
“But, love, that’s the thing. After Luca, I began to think I’d been given a second chance.” Livia cocked an eyebrow. “Caesar’s attack on our lady. A tragedy for our brave mistress, and I weep for her. But she is a woman…”
“And women are skilled in manipulation, but hold no other power.”
“It is the way of the world-women must stand in the shadow of men, both great and small.”
“Not this woman.”
“No, most certainly not you. But Caesar casts a shadow Crassus cannot escape,” I said, lifting a chin in the direction of the camp. “See what a man who has achieved greatness may accomplish by the sheer power of his will and his purse. Dominus has always held us gently in the palm of his hand, but now he has closed his fist. I fear for us all. He is consumed by Luca, and will not be content until he has avenged himself upon Caesar.”
“You call this greatness?”
“No, Livia. I do not. Yet Crassus is a great man, a lord of Rome. And I stand by his side. He has stumbled, and I have tried to right him. If only I could have reasoned with him and steered him from this madness, there would be greatness enough in that. But I have failed.”