Cold sweat pooled around the hilt of his dagger till he felt it would slip from his fingers. With immense effort, he broke eye contact with his wife and stared down at the blade. He considered which way to point it. He had three choices and each seemed equally reasonable. Just when he finally decided that it was Caesar’s throat that desperately needing slitting, Tertulla made a small, frantic gesture. She shook her head in a clear imprecation for him to do nothing. Her eyes widened and only because of thirty years’ intimacy with that face, could he see she wanted him to slip away, to depart — to continue to do what he had done since he had come upon them — nothing.
It was a blow worse than any that had come before. Anger, like the bile that had tried to erupt before, rose within him. How could she expect him to do nothing? How could she ask him to do nothing? Her gesture had finally provided the impetus to reveal his presence, but the gesture itself pleaded for silence. His mind cracked like an egg. In his chest, there was a thick knot of rope where his heart had but a moment ago beat only for her. Yet he knew he would obey her. Even in betrayal, it was a reflex of love he could not abandon. And the core of him, already broken in two, found it could shatter into even smaller pieces. He took one step back and let the curtain come between his eyes and hers, between a joyous past and an empty future.
Chapter XXXI
56 BCE — Spring, Luca Year of the consulship of Cn. Cornelius Lentulus Marcellinus and L. Marcius Philippus
Crassus wandered the drafty hallways, refusing to return to his bedroom, and instead found me. He sent me to find an empty cubiculum. It was difficult to leave him alone, even for a moment, such was his distress. Once I had him resettled, I foolishly asked him what had happened. My master was curt and rude, telling me to tend to my own business and leave him to his misery. I knew it must be something horrible, for even on his worst days, like the one when I received a flogging at his hands, he never spoke to me thus. I feigned departure, leaving the portiere half-open, then, barefoot, tip-toed back to watch over him. Curling up on the floor outside the door to his new quarters, I tried to remain alert in case he should require my assistance.
He sat on the small room’s bed staring at the floor till dawn, rising only once to vomit. I could hear him mumbling to himself, running the gamut of emotions from the soft keening of shame and humiliation to the clipped whispering of cold anger.
For awhile there was silence, but then in a voice so composed it frightened me, he said my name. I thought I must be dreaming. “Alexander,” he repeated, “I know you’re out there. I would speak with you.”
I obeyed, and he waved me to the only chair in the small, unadorned room. Without preamble or preparation, Crassus proceeded to confide in me. I winced at the surgically precise and cold recounting of each sordid detail. When he was done, I felt his eyes on me, but I could not raise mine off the floor.
“Have you nothing to say?”
“If I knew the words that could annul your own, dominus, I would say them.”
“I am dominus of nothing.” His voice had gone hoarse, pushing back tears. “What home am I master of? There is a house, but it is empty. There is a bed, but I can never sleep in it again.”
“You are certain you saw domina?”
“There is no doubt,” he said bitterly.
“Then what you saw…” I hesitated to say the word, “this was rape, dominus.”
“No. Not rape. She spoke sweetly to him, I could swear it. I was drunk, I know. But no, I think not rape. ” He stared at nothing, replaying the scene, stabbing himself with the memory, over and over in his mind’s eye, as if that might mercifully blind him to it. When we are sane, we may realize this torture would have the opposite effect, painting the scene with indelible strokes. But no man, faced with such immediate, terrible loss could put down that blade of recollection.
“I almost left without her, but then I realized it was not I who needed to skulk away in darkness like a thief. Oh, Alexander, I am bereft. The fine metal of my life has rusted, its foundation crumbling. My love is gone, my marriage a travesty. Tell me, my friend, in what vault shall I deposit the devotion, the passion so freely lavished on my Tertulla each and every day for the last twenty years? There is no place to pour this torrent of affection; without the proper cask, this sweet wine will spill into the gutter, a wash of ruined vinegar.”
“This is a horror beyond measure.” I shook my head. “Lady Tertulla hates Caesar. This I know; I would put the lorum in your hand myself if it be untrue.”
“It is your hand where it belongs, Alexander. I did nothing! I am dishonored, a coward. Yesterday, I had worn honor like a crown; today I am wrapped in a mantle of disgrace.”
“My lady would never betray you, dominus. She loves you as Baucis loved Philemon; she is as faithful to you as Penelope to Odysseus. Everyone in the familia knows this. The house of Crassus is a generous, loving house; it could not be otherwise if there was discord between you. I myself have heard dinner guests on many occasions marvel that the two of you act as if newly wed.”
“They were not here tonight. Their words would sour on their tongues had they seen what I have seen.”
“ Dominus, look at me. You did not bring me into your confidence to hear feckless words of commiseration. You have always trusted me. I beg you to do so now. Caesar and Brutus plotted against you. Brutus delayed your return intentionally, with malice and terrible purpose. Your wife is faithful; she was raped by Caesar.”
“You tried to interrupt our conversation. This I remember.”
“And Brutus would not allow it. I did not know what he was plotting, but there were signs, looks between him and Caesar and the servants. You are the victim of a cruel conspiracy.”
“How will I face her in just a few hours time?” Crassus felt for the dagger on the bed. “I had the chance, yet I did not strike.”
“ Dominus, you could not have bested Caesar. He is fifteen years younger, fifteen years stronger, fresh from the battlefield. He would have killed you, and after you, domina, to leave no witnesses.”
“Your logic is impeccable, Alexander. But it is irrelevant. I stood by and watched; that is my eternal shame. Better to die protecting my honor than to stand idly by. I should be dead now, if not by Caesar’s hand, then by my own.”
“Certainly,” I said angrily, “die like a Roman and your troubles will be over. What of the children? Do they deserve a life without their father? You must talk with domina, and you must act.”
Crassus turned away from me and curled on his side in the dark. “Act? There is nothing I can do to set this right; nothing she can say.”
“You know Lady Tertulla. Talk to her. She is wise and brave, and your truest friend.”
“So I thought. And so, too, I thought of Caesar. What of him? Am I that despised? Is my measure of men so poor? I am nothing to him. I am a bank, a villa, a line of credit.” Crassus choked on his words, as anguish overwhelmed him again. “I have nothing I call mine that he cannot use or take away. I am a latrine for his defecation, a sty for his discarded scraps. There is no amity between us, no honor, no trust. In their place crouch perfidy, enmity and sham. Nowhere is safe, for he invades and ravages all I hold dear as easily as he storms through Gaul.”
There followed a silence filled with the clamor of grief and betrayal. I fought an urge to cross a line that could never be breached: to reach out to this man, place my arms around him and bestow the consolation of human touch. He needed this more than anything, but would not, could not receive it from me. Of a sudden, out of that wordless cacophony, Crassus sat up, reached across the space between us and grabbed both my hands in his own. “He is my enemy and he has declared his war. I will pray to the gods, Alexander, make sacrifice and rekindle my faith in them: they must show me how I may confront him and prevail. If it was not my fate to die tonight, then there can be but one agenda to justify life: I will have vengeance.” He released me and rose to pace about the small room in silence. I was just about to break it with a plea for reason when he stopped and spoke in a clear voice, as if he were alone in the room.