“ Dominus,” Sabina called out above the murmuring of the familia. “Alexander had good reason to wish me ill, if you will hear it.”
“Go on.”
Sabina spoke of her plan to buy her freedom and that of her daughter, of my love for Livia and of the fact because of Sabina, the two lovers must eventually be parted.
Crassus shook his head slowly from side to side. The familia grew quiet. Finally dominus said angrily, “Get those dogs out of here.”
“May I speak, lord?” Drusus Malchus said. He was holding a rake.
“What is it?”
“With humbleness, to end this hearing now would be unfair. Our proof is not yet complete.”
“What more do you have to say?” Crassus asked impatiently.
“Sabina,” I said, earning an instant glare from the master that made me stutter, “Sabina was jealous of Tessa.” While I spoke, Malchus began scraping away the top layer of soil in the flower bed closest to the tablinum. “I noticed it the first day I came before Pio.” I spoke rapidly. “Tessa stormed into the house, right through your tablinum. I remember because she did not stop to put on house slippers. She was barefoot.”
When Malchus had cleared a sufficient space he picked up one of the bitches who, as he neared the flower bed began whining, complaining and struggling against him. Malchus forced it down in the cavity he had made, kneeling to hold it still with his massive arms.
“I can’t remember a time I ever saw Tessa wearing sandals,” I continued. “The day of the Vulcanalia, Sabina and I passed each other in the atrium. She had her cleaning supplies and must have been returning from Ludovicus’ quarters where she had been tidying up. She loves to clean,” I added weakly. “As she passed me, she was muttering angrily to herself, but one word was plainly clear: ‘barefoot.’” The whispers swelled again. “Sabina was clutching something in her free hand, something which I believe Malchus and I discovered last night in the woods.”
“Yes, Crassus said, irritated. “We know all about the poisonous flower.”
“No, dominus. It was this.” I reached inside my tunic and dropped the cut and mangled daisy onto the table. Everyone craned to see it, and everyone knew instantly what it meant.
Betto said, “Tessa would rather have shaved her head than wear her hair without those daisies.”
“Ludovicus,” I called, “did Tessa come to you on or before the Vulcanalia?”
“Answer,” Crassus said when the battalion commander hesitated.
“She did, but…”
“Sabina,” I asked, did you find a daisy in Ludovicus’ room and assume they were lovers?”
Before the healer could answer, the dog held down by Malchus howled in obvious agony and scrambled free. It ran in circles, panting and flinging spittle in all directions before it stopped, vomited and fell to the ground, shaking violently.
“Put that animal out of its misery,” Crassus ordered. Malchus slit its throat.
“This is ridiculous,” Sabina said, unnerved. “All right, yes, I admit I was jealous. And perhaps I wanted to make her sick. But kill her? Never! Walking barefoot in lykotonon can’t kill you.” Livia was staring open-mouthed at her mother.
“It can with a little help from your poison antidote.”
“You are a fool, Alexander. You said it yourself: t heriake cures poisoning, it doesn’t cause it.”
“May I explain, dominus?” Crassus nodded. Lykotonon slows the heart and breath. The primary ingredient of theriake is opium, which depresses most bodily functions, including respiration. To administer this medication to a person knowing they were suffering from lykotonon poisoning can only be construed as an attempt to kill them.”
Finally, the healer was silent. “I am so sorry, Sabina,” I said. “Forgive me, Livia, I had no choice.”
“You always have a choice!” Livia shouted through her tears.
Sabina looked up at me with such hostility that I understood in that instant that I had never known her. She leered at me and made to put her arm about her daughter, but Livia jumped as if she’d been bitten. “Get away from me!” she screamed. She leapt up and fled the peristyle. No one, not even Crassus, made an attempt to stop her.
Sabina’s face melted from hatred to humility. “Marcus Licinius Crassus,” she said, “master of this familia, I beg mercy. I confess to jealousy. I confess to hatred. Of these things I am guilty. But I do not confess to murder. I did try to save Tessa’s life. I swear. Anyone could have poisoned the soil. The evidence before you is tattered, full of supposition, spoken by a man who would do anything to keep my daughter near him.”
“Now I am convinced,” Crassus said. “You are right, slave, there is evidence here of a circumstantial nature. But this is not a court and I am in need of no proof in order to pass judgment. Yet shall you have it. The single unassailable, indisputable fact in all that I have heard today is that Alexander himself has brought this case against you. What more proof do I need of your guilt? He loved your daughter. She has fled, not just from you but from him. Look at what he has sacrificed in the name of justice.
“Alexander, I do not like being wrong, and I do not like apologizing. More than once you have placed this meal before me and forced me to eat.” He rose from his gilded chair and sighed. “Before this assembly, before my familia I say to you — apologies.
“Now, to Sabina I say this: you have killed an innocent girl. You have committed a heinous and brutal murder based on an assumption. Did you even confront the commander with your suspicions? It matters not. An attack on a member of my family is tantamount to an attack upon my person. But I want to hear you say it. So tell me, tell everyone here assembled: did you kill our Tessa?”
Sabina held Crassus’ gaze but remained silent. A guard who had moved up beside her prodded her with his finger. Almost imperceptively, she nodded. “Say it,” Crassus commanded.
“I killed her.”
“Do you have anything to add before I pronounce judgment?”
Sabina turned to me. “Alexandros of Elateia, I curse you. You have betrayed a sister to these Roman scum. May Hermes give you no rest, no peace of mind, no love for all your days. I curse you, and bind it with my blood. May all the gods below harken to me and conspire against you.” With her teeth she tore at her hand in the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger. She spit a bloody glob in my direction. “ Dominus, I am finished.”
“I should have you crucified on the street and let the children throw stones at you to assist in your agony.”
From somewhere in the crowd, a voice shouted out, “Do it! Crucify the fucking whore! And hoist Alexander up beside her!”
“Nestor, how good of you to remind me of your continued presence in my house. Step up and stand beside the healer.” Nestor did as he was told, persuaded by the butt of Betto’s gladius in his back. “The sight of you has offended my eyes from the day you were branded. Why I have suffered your employment for so long is a mystery. Perhaps out of some lingering respect for Pio. No matter. Your impudence has settled your fate.
“Sabina, your blameless daughter has suffered enough on this day. For her sake, I will be merciful. You will not die on Roman soil, which I trust will please you. I am sending you home. Just last week I concluded negotiations for a silver mine near Laurion. There you will spend the rest of your days in contemplation of your sins.”
“No!” The scream came from behind us. Livia had returned and was standing at the far end of the peristyle, behind one of the arcade columns.
Sabina cried, “Mercy, dominus. Kill me here. Kill me now. I offer you my throat,” she said, tilting her head back. “I beg of you, do not send me to the mines.”
“Do you want your daughter to keep you company? No? Then do not speak again. You will go, but you will not travel alone. That fugitivus will go with you,” Crassus said, flicking a finger at Nestor. “We are done here.”
When her mother and father arrived at the estate, they found that Crassus had prepared Tessa as if she were his own daughter. She lay in state on a funeral couch in the atrium, surrounded by the flowers she had nurtured with her own hands. Incense burned at each corner of the lectus. There followed a day of prayers and mourning, then Crassus, who would not have her sent to the grave pits on the eastern slope of the Esquiline, paid instead for the expense of having the young girl cremated. Tessa’s parents returned to Ostia, but not before they fell at the feet of their benefactor. He bid them rise, assuring them that he grieved with them. He instructed me to slip a purse heavy with coins into the father’s hand as they set out for the journey home.