“In Egypt, I lost many patients who should not have died. I am certain it is because they did not wish to be healed.”
“I believe you. But you tried. You did everything you could to save them. That is your way. Now, here I am with two patients, one who does not wish to recover from his wounds, and one who I believe would heal the past if she could. How can I do less than you?”
“What are you saying? Lady Tertulla no longer wants this war?”
“I believe she loves as we love; each day the longing for her husband grows stronger. Her doubts could be tipped into the certainty that thousands need not perish to satisfy her need for revenge. And she is the only person other than myself who could help dominus find a different path. She could bring him home.”
“You are a dreamer, Andros. You have as much power over domina as domina has over dominus. Less.”
“It doesn’t matter, Livia. I am the only one who has any chance of success. How can I stand by and let it pass?”
“I do you love you, pelargós, but you are a fool. Thank Athena, your foolishness can do no harm. We are here and lady Tertulla is in Rome. There is nothing you can do.”
“You may be right. But I do know that I have not done enough. This could be it, Livia, my chance to make a difference. What if we could stop this war? What if you were out of danger? I would live the life of a slave ten times over to see you safe.”
Livia kissed my cheek. “You should put that brain of yours to work on how we are going to see our son safe-and free.”
“I don’t know how, but somehow I have the feeling all of it-the war, Felix’s freedom, you and me, it is all connected.”
“There lies your greatness-to discover the connection.”
“Did you know that when you patronize me the green in your eyes turns muddy? I happen to be very serious about this.”
Livia sighed. “You are already great in my eyes; it is you who must learn to open yours.”
“Then I will only see myself through your eyes, whether green or grimy. Still, I fear for us all.”
“Being afraid is a good way to waste time, Andros. Who knows? Maybe you’ll think of something. In the meantime, I will dress the wounded or toss three handfuls of dust upon the dead. And then we will try to find our way home. What more can we do?”
“What happened to you in Egypt? You have grown philosophical.”
“Possibly, or else it is only your perception that is improving.”
I rolled onto her and kissed her gently. “That must be it.” I rose and straightened my tunic. “Now I must leave you briefly to find some privacy.”
“You are funny,” Livia said, sitting up.
“Me? I am comedy’s antithesis.”
“And there you prove it yet again. Andros, it was only a moment ago you were willing enough to take me beneath this tree among a community of lovers,” she said, looking about at the few remaining couples still dotting the woods, “but to relieve yourself, you require a place free from prying eyes. You are funny.”
“In the first instance, if you recall, I had but little choice in the matter.”
“Go. Do you what your quirky self needs to do. If you did not, you would not be Alexandros, and I would love you the less for it.” Livia hung the plaque about her neck and uncorked the wine skin. She wrung it from belly to neck but coaxed only a few drops onto her tongue.
I went a short distance away to find an unoccupied tree, and Livia went to the stream to squat over its mossy stones, cleaning herself to lessen the odds that our union would get her with child. This would be no time for Felix to become someone’s older brother.
Later, as we pulled the cloaks about us for warmth, I said, “We could take Apollo, ride south and in five days be in Elateia.”
“You’re not serious?” She turned her head to scrutinize my face. “You’re not.”
“No. I am not. It is only that in thirty years, I have never been this close to the place of my birth.”
“Do you know what has become of your family?” she said, propping herself up on an elbow.
“Gone. Dead. Does it matter? After he sacked Athens, Sulla moved north to engage the host of Mithridates. Half of Phocis was a smoking ruin. The battle ran south from Elateia, and many towns were sacked and put to the torch. I do not know what I would find there now. But I am certain my memories are sweeter.”
“But your parents might still be alive.”
“That is unlikely, but were it true, then their son is dead. Even if they managed to survive, even if old age has not yet claimed them, I would not haunt them with a shade they would barely recognize. Alexandros, son of Theodotos is no more. Better to keep the perfect lies of the past than to discover an unbearable truth.”
“You are Alexandros to me.”
I kissed her cheek. “Please, do not ever stop calling me that, for I love the sound. I cherish every moment with you, as I am now, as you are. You have suffered greatly, yet I have never met anyone with your capacity for joy, for finding happiness no matter where it is hiding.”
“You will always be my Andros.”
“I will. I promise. But who can I be to anyone else if not the slave Alexander, atriensis of house Crassus. Would those guards back at your tent take orders from Alexandros, son of Theodotos? No, do not look sad. I am the most fortunate of men: a man with two births.”
“And two deaths.”
“Speak rather of the man born the day the first one died. What would have happened had he not been stripped bare and dipped in the hot tallow of Roman ways, month after month, year after year, till nothing of that Greek boy remained, save the frail string that was his center? I will tell you-he would never have found you.”
She took my hands in hers and put them to her lips. “Still, I weep for that poor child.”
I would have spoken of her own ordeal as a child, sold by her father to pay his gambling debts to the slave dealer, Boaz; rented to any house that would pay; watching as her mother sacrificed her own freedom to buy back her daughter’s liberty. But I could not speak of these things. Because of me, that woman had by now died in the silver mines of Laurion. Instead, I said, “Do not cry for me. For Alexander burns bright, a good Roman candle, and here, in your arms, he has found his home.” The kiss that followed was long and tender, and would have been longer still had not a shadow fallen over us.
“Isn’t this a ph…phritty sight.”
We recognized that voice instantly-a man talking as if he had a walnut jammed up under one cheek. We shaded our eyes and looked to see a legionary in full uniform, his face scarred, pockmarked and leering. He was smiling, though his grin was hampered by the tough, ropy flesh that pulled at one side of his mouth, exposing two lonely teeth and the gums that held them on the left side of his mouth.
“Palaemon.”
“Good memory, Mantis.” He spoke to me, but his eyes were on Livia.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.
“Come to fuh…feh…fetch you. The general wanss ephryone back in camph.”
If one didn’t know his character, one could almost feel sorry for him. Almost. We stood quickly. Other soldiers were about, rounding up stragglers. “I meant, what are you doing here, on this campaign?”
“Same as you. Come to get a share of that Pharthian gold. Only difference is, Ah’m getting army phay.” There was nothing to do but walk back to camp with this criminal from the baths of Numa strolling right behind us. I was furious, and frightened. If the legions’ ranks were drawn from the likes of him, I shuddered to think how we would fare once the enemy was engaged.
“What about Herclides,” I asked. “Is he here, too?” Palaemon nodded. “Interesting. I suggest that as soon as we get back to camp, we find him and introduce him to Octavius. The legate will be most interested to meet the two of you.”