When I handed the list to Eirene, the poor, polite thing said, “Thank you, Alexander,” and our impromptu scheme was undone. Crassus turned round, gently pushed the big Spaniard to the side and saw Eirene holding a list dusted with flour.
“Who wrote that?” he demanded.
“Nestor’s writing is next to illegible,” I began. I was about to say more, but Crassus stopped me.
“Remember that lashing I spoke of when you first arrived?” I assumed correctly this was a rhetorical question. “Please do not lie to me. Nestor, bring me the list.”
Nestor obeyed. Crassus looked it over and handed it back to him. “Read it.” Nestor began reading the list, but Crassus interrupted him. “Wonderful. Now try the side written in Latin.”
Nestor turned the scrap to the side written in Latin and pretended to read, stopping when his memory failed him. “I cannot,” he said, looking down at the floor.
“Look at me,” Crassus said. The moment Nestor raised his head Crassus slapped him hard. The surprise and force of the blow almost knocked Nestor off his feet. “Unlike you, I have an excellent memory. When general Sulla asked how he might be of assistance, I asked for slaves who could both read and write in Greek and Latin. Did you tell the general’s man that you could do this?” Nestor nodded. The left side of his face was turning pink.
“Disappointing,” Crassus said. “Very disappointing. You are to be congratulated for deceiving this house as long as you have.” He adjusted his toga on his shoulder and turned to go. “Pio,” he said as he walked away, “there are limits to my good nature. Were it not for you, Nestor’s deception would not be tolerated.”
Livia had been spirited into the house while Sabina was in the garden helping Tessa cut bouquets. Publius was at their feet, chortling with delight at every worm he could wrest from the dirt. Crassus and Tertulla summoned her to their private quarters; the shriek of joy could be heard throughout the house. At supper that evening, an unusual night in that Crassus and his wife were neither entertaining nor being entertained, they called the entire staff into the atrium to make the announcement. This was superfluous, of course, as every ear had the gist of the tale poured into it practically before mother and daughter had left the masters’ bedroom. Dominus, however, thought it important to make a formal declaration. As he spoke, cook passed around a tray of spiced wine; not the cheap lora, mind you, but one of the sweet vintages served to company. I emptied a cup and reached for another. “Your domina and I have decided…,” he said, making eye contact with everyone in his or her turn, “… well, is there anyone present who does not know what it is we have decided?” Everyone laughed, although it looked as if Nestor would speak up till Pio put a hand on his shoulder. “Let us say only that our family has been most joyfully increased by one."
On cue, Sabina and Livia came into the atrium, hand in hand.
"Welcome home, sweet Livia!” Tertulla cried.
Crassus waited for the applause to subside, then described the healer’s new clinic, which he encouraged everyone to visit. He spoke fleetingly of the school, but this was Sabina’s moment. She stood next to Tertulla, dabbing her eyes with the white linen orarium given her by domina. The square of cloth was wet from one end to the other by the time her happy ordeal was over. Livia clung to her mother but reached across to take Tertulla’s hand when Crassus announced that the girl would be taken into domina’s personal service to be taught spinning and weaving.
I felt a foolish tear play about my eyelid and quickly banished it. Watching Sabina's own eyes water as she fussed with Livia's hair, a spark of clarity illuminated the parody before me. Why should I allow this pretty scene to make me cry? Twigs of frustration fueled an anger I could not vent. Here was one poor child being sold from one place to another, nothing more. A business transaction, profit for the master. Had the comfort of this new life clouded my vision so quickly and thoroughly that I could no longer recognize the chains that bound us to this place or feel the invisible walls that confined us here? What cause was there for celebration? Could there ever be justification for separating a loving mother from her daughter? Instead of applauding her return, we should be outraged that they had ever been parted. But no, we must show gratitude to our masters for their generosity. The taberna, Sabina's peculium, all of it — we were no more than pigeons, scrambling to peck at the crumbs flung into our midst. The wine in my belly soured and I turned to flee.
"Alexander," Ludovicus called, "where are you going?"
Was I the only one to lament that the price of this reunion was the freedom of both Sabina and her child? "I am no witless, feathered scavenger!" I said, knocking over an incense burner in my haste to depart.
"He's overcome with emotion," I heard someone say.
"He's drunk!" said Tessa, the gardener, with surprise.
They were correct, the both of them.
Crassus and Tertulla kept their promise, taking credit for making Livia a permanent member of the household, but the girl had come back into our lives so quickly after my conversation with Sabina that she was naturally suspicious. Suspicious enough so that every week until her departure a fresh bunch of flowers appeared on my schoolroom table. She spoke to me about it but once. It was the day of my first class, a week after Livia's return. The benches and tables had not yet arrived, but no matter. We sat in a circle on the floor: three students from our house and three staff members from the homes of some of Tertulla’s friends. Each of those placed coins in my hand when they left. I looked at them and thought to myself with pride, now you are a professional. Little Nestor tapped me on the shoulder and snickered, yesterday you were a slave; today you are a slave with a few coins.
Livia and I were playing a game of tali after everyone else had left. Sabina came through the door adjoining our two rooms. She watched us quietly for several moments. I glanced up from the floor where we sat cross-legged and bid her join us.
“I cannot say what part you have played in this,” she said, gesturing to her daughter, “or why you would choose to hide it.” Livia was about to roll but held the knucklebones to listen. “I have decided that I do not need to know. However, you need to know this: you will always be in our hearts; no matter where the fates may take us, you will always be remembered.” She left without further comment.
Livia asked, “What’s she talking about?”
“You heard her. I’m in your heart.”
“Well I might not remember you.”
“Just roll.”
“All right, be like that.” She gave the bones a good shake and threw a Venus. “Hah!” she cried. “Victory! Just for that, I’m not giving you a rematch.”
It was hard to be a curmudgeon, hard as I tried. One day I came upon Pio teaching Livia and Nestor a melody from the Laletani village of his childhood. Astounding to both eyes and ears. The sound of laughter and children playing seeded every hour: contentment took hold, grew and flourished. Even the food improved: Tertulla gave cook stacks of recipes from her mother’s kitchen. He grumbled, behind her back of course, having no choice but to try them. When the quality of mealtime rose by several degrees, all he would say was that execution was everything. The weight he himself was gaining, however, was a belt-loosening contradiction.
From the first day Sabina opened her practice, her waiting area was never empty. Crassus was as good as his word. As that word spread, she became so busy Tertulla was forced to relinquish her as a wet nurse and hire another. By the end of the first month, even after she had paid the master for furnishings and rent, Sabina had put aside three hundred sesterces in the family books. In two years, maybe less, her debt would be paid and she could begin to apply her fees toward the purchase of their freedom.