There was a word I had banished from my vocabulary these many years: hope. Unbidden, and almost unnoticed, it had crept back into my dreams and from there into my waking hours. From whom did I receive permission to slowly unbuckle my heart’s armor? From she who had given me a glimpse, no matter how brief, of what elation may be possible in this life, feelings so strong they made any thought of a life beyond death superfluous. Livia did not offer up any form of encouragement, no. This emotion, this non-love which I could not stopper nor contain, was released by a thaw in her own conduct. Little by little, year after year, Livia’s demeanor relaxed from disdain to neutrality, from contempt to disinterested. It took fourteen years; who knew what the next decade might bring? I was content, for now I had hope.
Today, as always, I glanced furtively in her direction. Her long, auburn hair fell in two rivers down the gentle slope of her breasts which were covered by a simple, beige peplos. She had thrown a deep blue shawl about her, and I cursed her gently for hiding the alabaster of her shoulders. She spoke again. “Good morning, atriensis.” Polite and respectful. I cursed this Caesar, for had he not been present, she might have used my name. Then, to him she said, “My lady Tertulla requests but a little patience from my lord. My masters will rejoin you presently.”
Caesar looked up from his couch and for the first time took note of Livia’s presence. His eyes roamed over her as if she were a leg of sweet, roast pork and he were a man condemned to a diet of rancid goat. “Patience, charming girl?” he said, rubbing his cheek where Tertulla had slapped him. He took hold of her hand. “Patience withers before such beauty.” To me he said, “Didn’t your master tell you to see to my every desire?” He pulled Livia down onto his lap. “Leave us.” For an instant, she looked up at me in terror, then lapsed into the posture of submission every slave learns to assume with shameful expertise.
“That’s better,” he said, completely ignoring her distress, cupping her left breast, testing the weight of it. He raked his fingers lightly over her nipple, seeking the involuntary response that he could falsely interpret as desire. Her face was averted, but I could see her tremble, lips crushed together, eyes shut tight.
“I thought I told you…”
It was a difficult angle; fortunately Livia saw it coming and ducked. I punched Caesar in the face, connecting with the left side of his cheek and jaw. It wasn’t a vicious blow, but what it lacked in force it redeemed in astonishment. Shared by everyone in the room. The vile man fell backward into the pillows; with my left hand I pulled Livia up and off of him. For just that instant he was too stunned to grab her.
“Go!” I urged, pushing her out of the room. She ran sobbing in the direction of the master suite. I turned back to Caesar, and stood with my hands trembling at my sides. At least half a dozen other servants had stopped what they were doing to stare at us. I tried to resign myself to my fate and summon what little dignity I could. My knees shook uncontrollably.
Caesar rose slowly. He stood directly in front of me, looking up into my eyes, searching for any remaining glint of contumacy. There was no light there, I can tell you. He brought his right hand to his chin and I flinched. He smiled, rubbing the smooth, pale skin thoughtfully. Then he twisted his upper body to the left as if something else had caught his attention. I realized what was coming as he raised his right hand past his left ear, his elbow under his chest. Only the hopelessness of my plight kept me from ducking. What would have been the point? With a force and viciousness that made both of us stumble, he whipped the back of his hand across my right cheek. The stone in his iron ring tore blood from my face and tears from my eyes.
“Hold!” Crassus came running across the atrium, wrapped in nothing but a towel, followed closely by Tertulla and Livia.
Caesar, having regained his balance, turned to my lord and as calmly as if he were buying fruit at the market said, “Marcus, how much for this slave?”
Crassus ignored him. “Alexander, is it true? Did you lay a hand upon him?” I nodded, and the face of my master sagged as if made of wax.
“Go ahead, name your price, Marcus. Ten thousand? Twenty? A hundred thousand? What, not interested?” Caesar feigned disappointment. “In that case, I suppose we’ll have to settle for a decent scourging.”
“Gaius, please,” Tertulla said. “Alexander’s behavior was inexcusable, unconscionable. But let us agree on some less violent compensation, I beg you. Name your price.”
“I understand you are fond of him, but no. He must be whipped, at the very least. I insist. Marcus, you of all people know where such impudence can lead. Let this pass and the next thing you know you’ll be traipsing all over the countryside chasing another slave rebellion.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Crassus said.
“Marcus… there are witnesses. If he were mine, I’d take the hand that touched me and make him wear it as a necklace.”
“This is not right, husband,” Tertulla pleaded. Livia gripped her mistress’ hand. Her knuckles were white.
“Come, let’s not let this spoil our day,” Caesar said brightly. “Fetch your lorarius. I’ll rouse Pompeia while you change and we can be off on that picnic within the hour.”
“I’ll do it,” Crassus snapped.
“You’ll do what?” Caesar asked.
“I keep no lorarius here. If not for your boorish, brutish behavior I would have no need of one.”
Caesar shrugged. “As you wish. Let me know when you are ready so I may bear witness to the flogging.”
“You will witness nothing!” I had never seen my master so angry.
“Marcus, by rights you should have him crucified. I think it only fair that…”
“You are a guest in my house,” Crassus said, tight-lipped. “You will do as I ask or I will have your carriage summoned.” Caesar looked at my lord with a variation of the expression he wore the moment before he struck me. Unlike me, Crassus did not look away. “The choice is yours,” he said.
The silence stretched like stale honey. You could see Caesar’s pride wrestling with the consequences of his response, both political and financial. He must have decided this battle required a tactical withdrawal, for he bowed slightly and went off to find his wife.
CHAPTER XXVI
62 BCE — Summer, Baiae Year of the consulship of Decimus Junius Silanus and Lucius Licinius Murena
“Livia told us what happened,” Crassus said. “Shameful. Had I been there, I would have put a stop to it. He had no right.”
“Pardon, dominus, but it is I who am bereft of rights.”
“ Please, Alexander, not now. Can’t you see how I am vexed?”
The two of us were walking side by side through the villa toward the place of my punishment. I was naked, covered only by a long, gray cloak. Crassus had put on an old tunic — I doubted there would be any picnicking this day. In his right hand he held a lorum. From the handle dangled two strips of leather thirty inches long, knotted at the ends. He held it slightly away from his side like a thing alive.
“I have no choice in this.”
“Do what you must, dominus.”
“An example must be made.”
“I am honored to provide one.”
“This is hard enough for me, Alexander. Must you?”
“I am curious about one thing.” Crassus half-lidded his eyes, dreading whatever might come next. “If what Caesar did to Livia was wrong, how then could it be wrong to stop him?”
“It was wrong for you to stop him. You should have fetched me.”
“What manner of man could stand by and do nothing?”
“Any fool would know better than to assault a citizen, considering the consequences.”
“I did consider them, but only afterwards. In the moment, there was only reflex. It was over before I could think about how or whether to act. Had you been there, you would have had done no less. In fact, one may interpret my behavior as acting on your behalf.”