“I am sad to see you leave,” I said, handing him his bedroll.
“I am sad to be leaving. I like the city life; the country is too noisy for me.” I cocked my head. “I hate the sound of crickets. And mosquitoes? I’ll never get a good night’s sleep again. But,” he said, scratching his shaved head, “that’s what I get for putting my cock where it didn’t belong. I fucked things up for you as well, and for that I am truly sorry. Any chance you can patch things up with her?”
“In another lifetime, perhaps.”
“When snakes have knees, eh? Well, maybe it’s for the best. She was a bit young for you, eh? Jupiter’s balls, Alexander, in your position, you can get any wench you want. Just whistle and point.”
I had no reply. Though our feet were planted on the same ground, Ludovicus and I lived in two different worlds; there were some words that could never span that celestial distance to be heard or understood. Instead, I said, “So it’s true then: you were not faithful to Sabina?”
“Faithful? You’re joking, right?”
“She cared for you deeply. She’s had a hard a time of it. Did she never tell you?”
Ludovicus shrugged. “There wasn’t much opportunity for conversation. She’d come to my room, I’d throw Tranio the hell out, and when we were done, he’d come sulking back to his bed. The most talking we did was, after about a week of this, we told Tranio he could stay put, we didn’t mind.”
“So you never exchanged words of commitment, or endearment?”
“I didn’t. She may have done. Alexander, look, I get it, there was a fucking great misunderstanding. I liked her and all, I liked her a lot, but it wasn’t as if we were married.” He bent to cinch his saddle. “The thing I can’t figure is why she didn’t take one of her scalpels to me. She had plenty of opportunity.”
“She and Tessa had always been at odds,” I said. “If she’d gotten away with it, she must have thought she could go on with you like before. If I hadn’t stumbled upon her in the woods, she’d very likely be here now. You wouldn’t be packing and Livia and…”
“Here now,” he said, standing. “Come on, come here.” He threw his arms around me and gave me a bone squeezing hug. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.” After slapping me on the back a few times, he released me and we shook hands.
“You’re a good man, Ludovicus. For all your faults.”
“And usually proud of them, too. Except today.”
“Perhaps our paths will cross again.”
“May the gods make it so.” He leapt up on his horse and I handed him the reins. His clear eyes smiled down at me and for a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be a man like him: big, strong, confident, carefree, and unburdened by an excess of contemplation. He saluted smartly and rode off. The next time I saw him he would be wearing a centurion’s helm, bloodied and ferocious, wielding a sword as if it grew from his arm.
Livia left the baths in the direction of the wine room. “Not the five or the ten,” Tertulla called after her, “but the fifteen, if you can find it.”
“You know, she’s become quite stunning,” Crassus said, eyeing the lissome departure of the twenty-three year-old, whose long tresses, wrapped and tied atop her head with a fringed scarf had deepened to the color of fiery autumn leaves. “I thought she was a seamstress,” he mused.
I found some empty wall space and put my back to it.
“Not today,” Tertulla said.
“What do you think, Alexander?” Crassus asked.
“About what, dominus?”
“Don’t be obtuse, man. You’ll remind me of Cicero and spoil my good mood. About Livia. Is she not a ravishing creature?”
“She… um, she whistles well enough.”
“That’s it?” Crassus asked, giving me an incredulous look. “Don’t lie to me; you’ve had your eye on her for ages, you coward. You’d have more than that if she’d let you.”
I winced.
“Apologies, Alexander,” Tertulla said as she rose, leaving her towel on the couch. “Have you forgotten, Marcus? That business with the healer… Livia’s mother?”
“Curse me for a Cretan. Apologies, Alexander. This aged soldier’s memory is flagging.”
It was impossible to make myself invisible when they kept talking to me, but I stared straight ahead, trying to look through rather than at the dimples above Tertulla’s hips as she descended the three steps into the lightly steaming water. “That’s why you married a girl fifteen years your junior,” she said, wading waist-deep to the statue of Venus in the center of the pool. “Come along then, old man.”
Crassus dropped his towel, stepped into the pool and crossed the ten foot radius to join Tertulla on the submerged marble bench that encircled the statue. “Now, where was I?” he mused. “At my age, the memory starts to go.”
“So you’ve said. Just now. Let’s see, you were about to say something that has absolutely nothing to do with politics, I believe.”
“Was I? That can’t be right. I’m sure it was about politics.”
Tertulla reached across his chest with her left hand and pinched his right nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Crassus flinched but managed to say, “Yes, I’m positive I had more to say of a political nature.”
“Go on, then. I give up,” she said, releasing him. As soon as he began to talk, she slid beneath the surface and stayed there, holding her breath.
When she burst up again with a gasp and a shake of her short, black hair, spraying scented water in all directions, Crassus laughed and said, “That’s hardly fair! Remind me to pay you in kind next time you need to discuss your latest shopping excursion.”
“Point taken. I just thought we might relax this evening.”
“I am relaxed. All right, I admit I’ll relax further when Pompeius has made good on his promise to disband his army and retire from public life. Have I told you how much it is costing us to maintain our own legions just to keep him from marching into the capital?”
“Several times. And he wouldn’t dare.”
“Actually, you’re right, he wouldn’t, and he won’t. Frankly, I don’t think my fellow consul has it in him to make a play for dictator. When we return to Rome next week, I will speak before the senate and to the people, and make a great show of amity and conciliation to the mighty Magnus.”
“Is that wise? You might encourage his ambition.”
“Pompeius is nothing if not vain. But in his heart, I believe his love of Rome will prevail. Or his fundamental lack of courage. And if he needs further persuading, there are many of us — plebeians, senators and I myself who have played upon his pride and flattered him with artful diplomacy. It’s his Achilles heel. I couldn’t tell you this earlier, but I met with him before we departed for Baiae. He asked me how it would stand with me if he were to accede to the people’s demand that he assume the dictatorship.”
“He didn’t!”
“He did. I wanted badly to admonish him that great generals do not necessarily make great emperors, but the matter required all my diplomacy and delicacy. I played upon his sense of history and his place in it — did he want to be remembered as the destroyer of the Republic? Would he risk civil war to bask in a popularity so fickle a mediocre harvest or a whisper in the wrong ear could overturn it? I knew I had him then. But I kept on. I reminded him that now that he and I had swept away all the evil that Sulla had perpetrated on the government, did we not now have the best of all possible Romes? What could he accomplish as dictator which he had not already achieved as consul? Was he not rich enough? Powerful enough? Influential enough? He was the hero of the nation and his place of honor in Roman history was fixed for all time.
“I think I may have overdone it a little, for he accused me of wanting the crown for myself. After I contained my laughter, I told him, and it’s true enough, my world is perfect just as it is. I could have no greater joy than to continue the status quo ad infinitem. And here is where I took the leap of faith I knew I would have to make to ensure the safety of the Republic. If he had any doubt of my sincerity, I told him, I would prove my patriotism and my loyalty by disbanding my army unilaterally.”