A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow of Heaven (35 page)

“Why would he aid you? With respect, your enmity is mutual.”

“Why else? To hasten us out of the city and so out of his thinning hair. Our alliance is broken. Both Pompeius and Caesar would like nothing better than to see me fail, or if the gods might grant their secret, special prayers, to find themselves on the speaker’s
rostra
draped in black and reciting the
laudatio funebris
in my recently departed honor.

“Are you certain, my lord? Did not Caesar write from Gaul to encourage you?”

“Of course he encourages me! Think on it, Alexander. He believes my failure is fated, because I do not meet the requirement of the Sibylline oracles. I will fail because I am not a king. And when I do, the senate will grant him as many legions as it takes to avenge me; they will withhold nothing from him, including a crown.”

“And so he allows Publius to slip away, to become another martyred hero?”

“I believe that is his thinking, yes.” Crassus tilted his head toward the roiling sky. “Once I counted him an ally and I had thought, a friend. I believed I could take the measure of any man with but a glance, but it shames me to think how blind I was to his true nature.
If I could be so wrong about Caesar, who is to say the image I hold of myself is not equally warped and contorted?”

“For that answer, you need only look into the eyes of your wife and sons.”

“My wife, yes.” Crassus' eyes drifted away, then refocused. “You were present the night Caesar became my enemy. Publius must never know. As for Marcus, my eldest, he is an accountant, not a warrior. Let Caesar keep him as
quaestor
to guard his swelling treasury. The general has little to fear from him, and I frankly, have little use for him in Parthia. He will stay in Gaul to be our ears in Caesar’s camp.

“Do not look so dismayed, my old friend. I mean to turn their scheming to advantage. As much as Caesar and Pompeius think they will benefit from my departure, how much more then, will their stars fall when I return triumphant? I am no virgin legionary on his first sortie. Orodes cannot throw against us but a fraction of the army Spartacus managed to put into the field. And what became of him and his rabble?”

The memory made me grimace. “I have seen the fate of six thousand of them—survivors caught and executed after the final battle. For more than a year after the war, unless you had a fast horse, a stomach made of Margianian steel or a wagonload of
ampullae
filled with Egyptian perfume, you could not travel the Via Appia between Capua and Rome without retching. A brace of nailed corpses every hundred feet for
sixty
miles
, the sky black with crows for months—
dominus
, the horror and cruelty of it was too much.”

“Because I love you, Alexander, and because I know that in matters of education and philosophy, you are at least my equal, I will not have you beaten for what I would consider impudence in any other man.
Leave politics to the politicians. The crucifixions were a harsh but necessary deterrent. If I had it to do all over again, I would change nothing. And that is the point, is it not? By executing the survivors in the most ignominious, dishonorable way possible, I have insured that ‘doing it all over again’ will never be necessary. And mark me, Alexander, I will deal just as severely with Orodes, should he have the temerity to face me.” 

I stopped and turned a resolute face to my master. “I have served you, Marcus Licinius, for more years than I probably have left to live. I believe that, save for your wife, I know your heart and mind better than any man. I have seen your cunning, your intelligence, your business acumen and your political savvy. I know you to be a man of extreme generosity, good humor and loyalty. I cannot imagine what it must have been like as a young man to see your father and brother slain before your eyes. I know this is why you are so passionately protective of Tertulla, Marcus and
brave Publius. You have suffered greatly, yet you have persevered and gained the world. In your heart, there is goodness, and in your mind, the desire to do the right thing. I do not believe that you are a ruthless or barbaric man, for I understand that the subtleties and intricacies of great sculpture must first endure the insults of chisel and hammer.

“All I am asking,
dominus
, is that you allow me the freedom to be absent should you ever speak again of the necessity that forced you to adorn the Via Appia with such stern politics.” My voice was like the slow, persistent squeeze on the neck that extracts every drop of venom from the cobra’s fangs.

Crassus was silent. The game piece had been moved. We never spoke of it, but each knew the rules. I would push the limits of my master’s patience, or his tolerance, see how far and how often I could bait him until finally he snapped and reverted to the basic, fundamental nature of our relationship. Even if I lost, I won, for I would see the victory of pain in his eyes as he witnessed whatever punishment he
imposed upon me. But it was a dangerous game, for men like me were cheaply bought by men like Crassus, and the silver mines were always hungry for more human fodder to chew and choke. Yet I was compelled. I had nothing that was not given me, nothing that could not on a whim be taken away. Except this. My prize was a shred of dignity that covered nothing but my naked shame. His prize, if he kept it, was a shred of humanity which he shared with no one.

Finally, Crassus spoke slowly and softly, a knife slipping gently between the ribs. “
This
freedom, Alexander, I shall grant you.” Before I could offer my thanks, he said, “Now go fetch me an apple.” As I turned to walk toward the shuddering galley tent, conceding the round to my master, he added without emphasis or emotion, “And bring one for yourself.”

Ah. A draw then.

•••

The apples were crisp and tart. Resuming our
discourse beneath the pregnant sky, I said, “You have not yet told me of the curse, of which I have heard little else since your arrival, from everyone but you.”

“Alexander, I tell you, that man practically caused a riot. I approached the
pomerium
just at the sixth hour with my
lictors
and only the first
century
of the first
cohort
as escort
.
The sun was high and made blinding mirrors of their armor. Their weapons waited for them outside the city walls. There, like a recurring nightmare, at the
Capena Gate
stood
Ateius, who had raced ahead to block the exit with his retinue. Before him a lit brazier was already aflame, the incense and oils he was pouring into it causing a stench as foul as low tide and burning blood. A large crowd had gathered by the time I stood before him. Billows of noxious yellow smoke rose even to the ramparts above the arch where spectators were climbing, scrambling for a view and cleaner air.

“Ateius screamed at me once more to abandon my plan to ignore the will of the senate. I calmly replied that I would not. He stared at me wild-eyed for a moment, his jowls turning red like a fat, mating lizard. Truly, he looked as if he was about to burst. At last he shouted, “So be it!” Then he threw off his toga to reveal yellow robes streaked as if stained with blood.”

“A
magus
,” I whispered.

“Yes. There was an audible gasp from the crowd as he raised his arms over his head. He began to wail in an unnatural, shrill falsetto that sent shivers through everyone, including me. This was not your typical malediction for the return of a stolen bath towel, scratched into a lead tablet and thrown down a well. No, this was a searing, hate-filled execration aimed not only at my total destruction, but everyone associated with the undertaking. He read from a parchment to increase the potency of his excoriation, and he’d obviously put much effort into its composition. He cursed me, my family and all my descendants to the seventh generation. He cursed the legionaries who marched with me, the auxiliaries, the cavalry; he even cursed the horses!

“Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he began chanting incoherently; I didn’t get all the words, some were Latin, some sounded Etruscan. He called upon Hades, Vulcan and Jupiter, along with demons and monsters of whom I’d never heard.

“Women threw their hands to their ears or covered those of their children. Others tried to get away; some were trampled. Merchants and soldiers shouted for him to stop. My guards would have strangled him on the spot had I not enjoined them. I would not have his blood on my hands as I departed. Now that
would
have been a foul omen.”

“The people were not confident in his ability as a
magus
?”

“Certainly not. I myself knew him to be a student of the law; no one had any idea he had also delved into the mystical texts. And of course everyone, from plebeian to tribune knew that if Ateius made one little slip in word or gesture, his curse might very possibly rebound and return to fall not only upon himself, which I’m certain no one would have minded at all, but onto the city as well.”

“I have heard tell of such things.” Though I did not believe them.

“
Attend, there is more to come. He concluded his imprecation by saying the most peculiar thing. I was so struck by it I had Sabinus write it down.” Crassus opened a pouch tied to his belt and unfolded a piece of papyrus. “He said, ‘If you do not turn aside from this adventure against a people that has done Rome no injury, and with whom we are at amity, you will surely be undone. Your purpose will be wrecked utterly. You and all that follow you shall perish in ignominy, your bleached bones left to inhabit the desert. Before all this has come to pass, even then Melek Ta’us may take pity on you and grant you understanding, so that upon your death you may repent, and thereby cause some future good to yet spring from your own wrongdoing.”

“Remarkable,” I said.

“I was thunderstruck, and I had no idea what this rant might signify. I said to him, ‘Tribune Gaius Ateius, whatever happened to Jupiter Capitolinus? Or Mars Invictus? If I am to be sent to the underworld in shame, at least I should like to know a little more about the deity who is sending me there.’ The crowd about us fell silent. I asked him if he did not think it unusual to end a curse with lenience. Ateius looked almost as bewildered as I and replied that he had been instructed to say these things by the goddess. ‘This Melek Ta’us,’ I presume. ‘The very same,’ he replied. ‘And who is Melek Ta’us?’ I inquired. He said he did not know. ‘This is becoming tiresome,’ I said. ‘How is it, then, you come to invoke his name?’ ‘Her name,’ he said.”

At that moment, Petronius came back on deck. “Your leave, general.” He saluted by hitting his closed right fist upon his breast. Crassus nodded. “Preparations for the sacrifice will be ready within the hour. Rain approaches from the west,” he added, hoping Crassus would reconsider his decision to embark.

“Then we’d better get those oxen slaughtered,” came the disappointing reply. “Where was I?” he asked as Petronius clambered back down to the jetty.

“This goddess
…”

“Ah yes. Ateius told me she had come to him in a dream,
in the form of a peacock. This Melek Ta’us assured Ateius that my purpose was made of stone and that I would not be deterred, but that, short of violence, he should try to dissuade me nonetheless. I said in a louder voice for all to hear, ‘It augurs well that the gods know my purpose and determination, even if they be gods unknown to and unsanctioned by Rome. Now, you’ve done your duty and your conscience should be clear. You have also disrupted the tranquility of this city and put needless fear in the hearts of your countrymen. For this, you shall most likely have to answer to them when I have gone, but that is not my concern. Now stand aside and let us pass.’ And that was essentially the end of it.”

“I would have to say,” I said, glancing at clouds so heavy and leaden they appeared to be straining with the effort not to burst, “that this is as inauspicious a beginning to an expedition as ever one might dread. These are powerful signs, lord. Dare we ignore them?”

“You don’t fool me for an instant, Alexander. You put no stock in omens and incense. You see them for what they are:  pacifiers for children. Your fear of this undertaking does not become you. There is no Roman death more honorable than one earned on the field of battle.”

“Alas, I am no Roman.” I imagined the Via Appia as Crassus had left it after his defeat of Spartacus. How was the fate of those six thousand eyeless sentinels, their limbs given an occasional twitching, false life by the maggots that consumed them, any different?

To a corpse, honor meant nothing. Death on the battlefield or on a cross was death all the same.

Crassus threw the core of his half-eaten apple over the side. “Don’t mistake me. The gods have their place; fear of them may keep the peace as handily as a veteran legion. I, for one, though I observe the forms, am too busy shaping my own destiny to wonder whether public prayers are heard or not. Politicians make ready use of religion, but press us beyond our devout mouthings and you will find little faith.”

I said nothing, but nodded toward the canopy in the stern, and shelter. In the distance to the west, a grey curtain of rain marched steadily toward the port, and lightning finally broke through the clouds. It crackled and hummed as the gods wrote a brief but illegible note on the landscape. Whether benediction or curse, who could say?