“Mars awaken!” Tertulla said, holding her bowl aloft. “May Jupiter Invictus grant victory to Crassus and Rome.”
Dominus told her that he went for her, not for Rome.
“Then do not go,” she said lowering her bowl and her voice. “Let us find another way.”
“I am resolute,” he said. “And I will be victorious.”
Domina complained of the time they would be apart. “Who will be my hero,” she said, “and catch the mice for me now? We shall be overrun by the time you return.”
Crassus took her hands in his and kissed her cheek. “That was a long time ago,” he said, not unkindly. “Is that the surprise?” He pointed to the chest.
Tertulla sighed with resignation. “You’re going to like this,” she said as cheerfully as she could. She got up, went to the chest and pulled the lid up to reveal its contents. Dominus rose respectfully to join her. The trunk was filled with clothes and armor. There were extra tunics and two pairs of hobnail caligae. Beneath these were a fine silver balteus from which would hang a new gladius with a golden hilt and a smaller pugio dagger. Crassus dug further into the chest, admiring first an embossed leather cuirass, then a padded subarmilis to keep his armor from chafing. It was complete with leather pteruges; he ran his hand appreciatively down the finely worked fringed strips. There were several sizes of cloaks, boxes of toiletries, and other packages containing little gifts, sweetmeats and remembrances. Wrapped in muslin was a small bronze statuette of one of our household lares.
“It is a duplicate,” Tertulla said. “I will implore mine to perform its task well-to protect and preserve our family, all our family” (she looked at me, I glanced at Curio) “and to bring my loved ones home to me, safe and unscathed.”
Crassus closed the trunk lid and turned to his wife. The words escaped his lips before thought, drawn out by some malicious sprite. “By rights Caesar ought to pay for at least half of all this.”
Lady Tertulla stood and turned her back to dominus, blinking away tears. He begged her forgiveness, but the damage was done, the scab picked at yet again.
She said, “We will never put it behind us, will we?” It was barely a question. Crassus went to her and stopped, his hands frozen just above her shoulders, the distance separating them measured by fractions and continents. He glanced at me and I could see he was afraid to touch her lest she pull away. There are senators who call him one of Rome’s greatest orators, but now he stood mute. At last he lowered one hand to her bare shoulder, not daring to embrace her. After a moment, she reached up and covered his hand with her own.
My lord laid his head on her shoulder and they stood like that among the lotus trees, listening to rustle of the leaves. Finally, he told her that he would rather fall on his own sword than intentionally cause her harm. “But a green harpy lives inside me and will out no matter how I reason with it.”
My lady said, “Then do not reason with it, mighty Crassus. Bury your sword in its craw and be done with it. You have no cause for jealousy.”
Gently, dominus turned her around and wiped the tears from her eyes. “In my mind I know this to be true. It is my heart that yet writhes with the memory. I would tear it from my body, but then how would I love you?”
My lady smiled weakly. “There are enough senators to call you ‘heartless.’ I shall never add my voice to theirs.”
“I apologize for speaking to you as I did. Your gift is magnificent, as are you.”
“It is my fervent prayer,” she replied, “that you will have the entire trunk thrown into the Tiber. If you still love me, stay and put aside this war. We were rash, and we are wrong to seek revenge at such a cost.” Tertulla took his hands in hers and stared at him with such intensity that by this look alone she might have deflected him from his intended path. “You need not go further away, husband, to bring us closer together. You do not have to go. The people would have you stay. I would have you stay.”
He took both her hands in his. “I cannot turn back, nor would I. Caesar has taken enough from me. No more. When I return, I will retrieve the bulla aurea of my childhood and wear it in the triumphal procession. This I swear to you and to any god who will listen. I did not act that night in Luca, to my everlasting disgrace. I must act now.”
“Then,” said my lady, “I will pray for you daily. Twice daily.” She reached up to dominus, and drawing him down to her, pressed her body full against his own and they kissed as I had not seen them do in many months.
“I have loved none but you, I love you still, and I shall love you always.”
She said this to him then, and he shook with emotion when he heard it. “I summon Venus and Mars to join in both love and in war. Come, Venus Victrix, come quickly now. Forsake Vulcan and with You, Father of Warfare, take pity on us, turn evil aside from us, and preserve my husband's and my sons’ life. Gird them with the strength of Hercules and the cunning of Mercury. Vanquish any and all who oppose them. Let not the scales of victory hover above the blocks, but fall decidedly in favor of, and with the full weight and power of Crassus.”
•••
Many months later, as he kneeled in the bloodied dust of a strange and desolate land, Crassus would marvel at the clarity of his recall of their last moment together-the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her tunic, the smell of almond and bergamot in her hair, the soft pressure of her arms about his neck. He wore the memory of her embrace like armor, and though he knew it would not save his life, it would be all that was left to him to ease his passage into whatever lay beyond.
Chapter XIX
55 BCE — Fall, Rome
Year of the consulship of
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus and Marcus Licinius Crassus Dives
“We could be home within a year,” I whispered. Felix was asleep in his crib. From his own cot, Hanno kept shushing our every sentence with a noise louder than our speech. I lit another lamp to aid in my packing.
Hanno said, “Bright.”
“I am sorry, son. It will only be for a little while. Try to sleep.”
“If I try, it never works.” I smiled at his exhibition of logic and he smiled back, knowing he had pleased me.
“I can’t leave him, Andros,” Livia said, moving from our bed to stand over the crib. Under one arm she held a bundle of my folded tunics; with her free hand she tucked Felix’s blanket up under his dimpled chin and bent to kiss his forehead. “I can’t do it.”
“We have no choice.”
“That is what angers me the most.” I took the tunics from her and laid them neatly in the open trunk that lay in the center of our bedroom, a cubiculum so well-appointed and lavish it would put many senators’ own lodgings to shame.