Publius was brought into his counsel, but was never told the true reason for his father’s obsession. Crassus was rightly afraid that if he knew, he could not be restrained from assassinating Caesar himself. But that was not dominus’ plan. All Publius knew was that his father was intent on making war for the glory of Rome. The young legate’s eyes glittered at the prospect as he said, “Gaul is cold and wet, and I have no desire to suffer more of the same in Briton. Father, enough of stories. Let me demonstrate in Parthia with lance and sword the qualities of which your son is made.”
In his office, Crassus paused before speaking, emotion clogging his throat. “No father could be more proud than I. But is such a thing possible? Caesar will never release you.”
“Release? I am practically my own man in Gaul. Caesar is but half its conqueror, his letters to the senate notwithstanding. I tell you truly, and I make no boast, I have done more with one legion than he has with six. Did he guide my hand while I conquered all Armorica? Where was he during my conquest of Aquitania? The war against Ariovistus, King of Germania, would have gone quite differently for our legions had not my cavalry charge broke the enemy lines and dispersed them in disarray. 120,000 heathens learned their final lesson that day. What a fine sight to see what was left of their ranks fleeing back across the Rhine, their tails tucked beneath their hairy behinds. Now don’t misunderstand me, Father,” Publius said, “Caesar is a decent general. For an old man.”
“Do not discount the wisdom of age and experience, my young hero.”
“Father, for age, I shall rely on you, but for experience, you must admit no commander twice my age has more.”
“I certainly can think of none with more self-confidence. Well then, we shall make a fine pair of generals, old and young. But how will you get away? I must sail before the end of the year. Gabinius, the man I am replacing in Syria, would like nothing better than to lay claim to Parthia; we must make haste.”
“Why worry?” Publius said. “If he is but a governor and no king, let him try. According to Caesar, Parthia will still be ours for the taking when your Gabinius fails.”
“I’d rather not give him the opportunity, despite Caesar’s confidence in the Sibyl. You and I are true kings-rulers of our own destinies. We cannot help but succeed. But you have not answered my question.”
“If you let your dog run without a leash, you cannot blame the dog if it runs away.”
Crassus swept a grey lock from his forehead. “I don’t follow.”
I said, “You strike me, young master, as more wolf than cur.”
The old Publius would have winked at me. The new Publius glanced at me sideways, a rebuke for interrupting. He continued to his father, “I am practically autonomous in Gaul. My men follow me, not Caesar. I will return to Gaul and make my peace with him; honor demands it. But as I pass through the north, I will tarry. There are thousands of Pompeius’ men breaking their backs in rocky fields, as suited to farming as a whore is to marriage. One whisper in their ears of a march to glory and you will hear the sound of scythes dropping and sword belts tightening from Vercellae to Ravenna. By summer’s end you’ll have enough men marshaled on the Campus Martius to conquer a dozen Parthias.”
“One is all that I require.”
“Master! Father Jupiter! Look at me!” Hanno shouted, galloping past the entrance to Crassus' tablinum on the shoulders of the Celtic giant, Taog.
“Hannibal! Taog!” I snapped. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s all right,” Crassus said. “Your mistress is visiting lady Cornelia today.”
“Play outside, then. Where’s Brenus?”
“In the workshop,” Taog said, making a final turn around the impluvium before ducking carefully through the atrium doorway.
“Father Jupiter?” Publius said, his eyebrows reaching for the black curls of his hairline.
“It’s nothing,” Crassus said, reddening. “The boy is tainted.”
“I can’t get him to stop calling me master, either,” I added. To Publius, the explanation was insufficient. “I have told Hannibal over and over again that dominus is master, not I. With his muddled logic, he reasons that if I am, well, who I am, then dominus must be a god.”
“And neither of you did anything to discourage this?”
“A little,” Crassus said, avoiding his son’s eyes. “Let the lad have his delusions. I don’t mind, really.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Publius said, then burst out laughing.
“Once Hannibal gets an idea in his head…” I said, my voice trailing off to wherever feeble excuses go to die.
“Oh this is rich,” Publius said. “Why didn’t you bring the thing out at the party? Have you taught him to sing or do a little lopsided dance?”
“Shall we get back to the matter at hand?” Crassus said.
Publius composed himself, barely. “Yes, of course. Forgive me.” He cleared his throat. “Do you remember Cassius Longinus?”
“He attended your party, ready to use his dagger for more than spearing fruit, as I recall.”
“That’s the man.” Publius pressed his lips together as if trying to prevent something from escaping. “Wait a moment!” he blurted. “If you are Jove, and Mother is Juno, then I must be Mars Invictus!”
“Yes, that’s quite droll, Publius. Just let us know when you’ve finished reciting the panoply.”
“All right, all right,” he said, holding up his hand. “Yes, Cassius.” He took a deep breath, calming himself. “He’s a good man. With your permission, I will approach him and ask him to join us. He is ambitious; he told me he feels held back, as well he might under Caesar’s command.”
“How do you know him?”
“He came down with me from Gaul. I met him years ago at Cicero’s. I know, I know-Tully is not your favorite exemplar of Roman resolve, but he has always been kind to me.” Crassus gave his son a stern but less than withering look. “To the point,” Publius continued, “Cassius had just returned from Rhodes and was invited to one of Cicero’s study sessions comparing the Academy Skeptics to the Stoics. You talk about your drunken confederacy of dissolute whoremongers, well…” Dominus and I stared blankly at Publius; after a moment he shook his head and continued, as much disappointed with his audience as we were with his japes. “That’s where we met. Cassius enlisted with the 7th and I’ve known him ever since. He’s trustworthy, a good soldier and strategist. If he accepts the commission, I’ll have him levy the troops, get them mustered in the south, and I’ll join you as soon as I am able.”
•••
Thus it was decided. But before he returned to Caesar, dominus helped pave the way for his son to climb the ancient, revered, but ofttimes ignored political ladder whose ascent was assured by his victories in Gaul. He was too young to become quaestor, the first official post in the cursus honorum (the position had a minimum age requirement of 30), but his father had him stand for two other respectable posts to start him on his way. He was elected almost unanimously to both.
Only one golden link remained to be forged: though young for his military prowess, Publius was beyond the age when wealthy Romans traditionally found an advantageous pairing for their male children. His sojourn in Gaul had postponed any thoughts of women beyond fleeting, forgettable couplings with camp followers and local whores. Returned to Rome, the boy who never once stared with trembling lower lip into the abyss of want continued his uncanny good fortune as a man. Publius was one of those rare individuals upon whom the gods never frowned, despite his arrogance and presumption. It was not that he expected through the privilege of his birth that good things must always come his way, for that would require contemplation of desire denied. Publius Crassus lived from one perfect moment to the next, heedless of the wonder of his charmed life. Once he crossed the pomerium, Eros was armed and ready for him the moment he leapt from his horse.