A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow of Heaven (8 page)

Crassus answered by reaching for another olive.

“One thing puzzles me,
dominus
,” I said. “If you must win this coming election and thus be granted Syria to govern after your year’s term, why have both you and Pompeius refused to announce your candidacies?”

“Lentulus, who now serves, is a good and honest consul,
and a hardened conservative. He will not be bullied by any extra-legal decisions made by us at Luca. He has refused to take our names—the deadline for declaring is long past. His co-consul, Philippus, favors Caesar and the
populares
, and therefore badgers us to run. But he is not a man who can see beyond a single move on the board. I will not risk declaring myself a candidate while the mood in the city is fractious and uncertain. The senate will follow us, but between the grain shortage and the few but vocal
optimates
crying out against us, the outcome of a vote now would be uncertain.”

“You are stalling.”

“I am doing what I must,” he said, his voice rising. “Time shoves rudely at my back, but I must not move too soon. I have this one chance, no more. I see that look on your face. Do not lecture me on legality or ethics, Alexander; it pains me more than you can know to abandon my principles, once inviolate, now doughy with expediency.” His words were spoken with shaky conviction; agitation creased his brow. He stood and paced back and forth in front of my chair. He grabbed another olive and destroyed it in his mouth.

“Dough will rise,” I said, “and harden when baked.”

Crassus turned to me and slammed a fist down on the arm rest of my chair as he spoke. “This is no time for your
wit
, Alexander!” He spit the olive pit onto the floor. I resisted the urge to pick it up. I glanced nervously at Hanno. He had put away his brush and now stood by the wall, his ruined hands before him, nervously linking, separating, then re-linking his four digits in two interlocking circles. He was swaying from side to side, aroused by Crassus' tone. I prayed he would not speak.

“When the people are alarmed, they look for stability,” I said. “The people love you,
dominus
. I was in the forum when Clodius took the
rostra
before half the city. ‘Who is murdering the people with famine?’ he asked, and the people responded, ‘Pompeius!’ ‘Who wants to go to Alexandria?’ he asked, and they shouted, ‘Pompeius!’ And when Clodius said, ‘Whom do you want to go?’ with one voice came the thundering reply:  ‘Crassus!’”

“His armies are disbanded,
” he replied dismissively, “and the man needs an occupation. Grain merchant suits Pompeius’ abilities. Let him negotiate with the Egyptians. As sweet a fruit as Egypt is, I must leave it for others to harvest. With Parthia’s riches we will buy the grain of ten Egypts, and Rome’s praise will be everlasting.”

“
What of the senate and the people,
dominus
? You are the rock upon which they both depend.”

“
You exaggerate to the point of transparency, Alexander. But, fine, for the moment, I shall be a rock. Caesar, then, is a comet that has struck our world, knocking it off-balance. What, then, can this rock do but be dislodged and roll down whatever slope his shaking sends it? It will take all my art to set things right again.

“
To begin, the people will need a hero. I am not that man. Not yet. Pompeius has played that role more successfully than I, certainly to more applause. Let Pompeius find the grain and wallow in the cheers of the crowd. It is what he loves best, so we will let him have his moment.”

“I am surprised to hear you say it.”

“Let him sweat to regain his popularity; it serves my purpose now. His theater is almost complete; it will be a monumental diversion.” I smiled at his unintended pun. “And when the grain starts to flow once more, sated citizens will make for pliant voters.” He suddenly looked at me as if I had just appeared in a puff of smoke. “Why are you shivering, Alexander? Here, take this.” Crassus undraped his senatorial toga, exposing his purple striped tunic, further sign of his rank. He stood and meant to drape the toga over me like a blanket. I rose as well, shocked. I held the huge garment at arm’s length, standing naked before him.

“No,
dominus
. I cannot wear this. Hanno, fetch my tunic. Hanno!” The boy pushed himself off the wall and took off at a sprint, which for him could be more likened to a leaping hop.

Crassus sat back down, dropping the toga in a heap on the floor. “As you wish,” he said, sounding like a child rebuffed
after offering to share his dearest toy.

I
retrieved my hand towel, then let it fall again. “
Dominus
,” I felt compelled to say, “it is a most generous offer. But that garment is not meant…”

“What, for the likes of you? Do you think I am unaware of the honor I do you? By Athena’s robes, Alexander, I do not understand you. Even when I extend my outstretched hand, you refuse to take it. Is the gap between us so great?”

I sat in wondrous silence for a moment, crafting my answer. “The fissure is broad and deep,
dominus
. Your gesture is well-meant, but can you not see that the gulf is widened by it, not bridged?”

“You will take nothing from me, will you?” he sighed. Hanno returned with my clothes and I quickly tied and wrapped my
subligaculum
about me and threw the tunic over my head. As I
dressed, I shook off the muddled feeling that it was I who should have sympathy for Crassus.
Let us return to politics,
I thought,
a less dangerous and more straightforward subject.

“I don’t understand,
dominus
. Why all this subterfuge?”

“Ah, Tranio!” Crassus exclaimed. “Always a welcome intrusion.”

The wine steward entered with two assistants, the first of whom handed each of us large, double-handled silver cup. “I have a nose not only for the best vintages,” Tranio said, “but for where in the house they are most needed.” The second assistant approached and filled a third of each cup with water, and finally Tranio himself, cradling the
amphora
as if it were a baby, completed the ceremony. He waited, a barely restrained puppy, while
dominus
drank. Crassus knew his steward well enough to feign a heart attack of joy before dismissing the man. Even when the wine was mediocre, the praise might yet be effusive, for their was nothing more glum than a pouting Tranio.

When the steward had left, humming contentedly,
dominus
asked to be reminded where we were in our conversation. “Why not throw your support to the
optimates
?” I said. “They have had their man for months. Domitius has promised to recall Caesar if elected and strip him of his army and provinces. Isn’t that what we want? Why aren’t we supporting him for consul?”

“I cannot break with Caesar; my preparations are not complete. Caesar could return from Gaul and easily stir up a majority of senators to retake control of the senate. Or worse, if he thinks our alliance is broken and that he cannot rely on my influence, he might
come back not as a politician, but as a general at the head of his army. He wants Parthia, but Gaul has not yet been subdued. I must give him no reason to abandon the West. Let him keep his focus on the Moreni and the Menapii while I take the initiative to deprive him of the East. The only way to accomplish this is to feign amity between the three of us until Pompeius and I are consuls.”

“Then what is holding the
optimates
back? If your names have not been taken, why does not Lentulus simply call the election without you? The year will soon be over and he will have to lay down the
fasces
.
”

“Precisely. Alexander, I don’t think you’re spending enough time at the baths.” Crassus’ grin was vexing.

“
Dominus
?”

“Lentulus plans to call for elections before the month is out.
His intentions must be frustrated. Do you know the baths of Numa?”

“A small
balnea
that caters to mixed bathing. A disreputable establishment.”

“The tribune Gaius Cato is a regular patron.”

“So are thieves and whores.”

“We will not debate the man’s morality, but rather applaud how he chooses to interpret it.”

Understanding dawned and I said, “The tribune of the plebs may veto any call for elections.”

“It is his habit to take the waters daily at the seventh hour. Meet him there,” Crassus said, extracting a scroll that protruded from the pile of senatorial wool on the floor, “and give him this. Discreetly. He’ll know you by your plaque.”

I took the proffered papyrus
, wound about its thin spool of polished ebony and tried to imagine how many zeroes were cavorting with one another beneath its seal on the letter of credit. “Surrender it into tribune Cato’s hands alone,” Crassus said. “Take Betto and Malchus with you.”

“Malchus!” Hanno cried.

“That’s right, Malchus,” I said.

“I
like
Malchus.”

“I know you do.”

“Not Betto. He makes me confused. He talks too fast.”

“That’s enough now. Let
dominus
and me finish our conversation. Afterward, we’ll go to the kitchen and find some grapes.”

“
Green or red?”

“Hannibal!” Crassus snapped.

Hanno dropped his head, pulled the brush from his belt and drew it over and over again through the tail of his hair. Two large wet circles appeared on the tiles at his feet. “Excuse me,
dominus
,” I said. I padded naked to the wall where the boy stood.

“Father J
upiter defend me!” Crassus cried.

Hanno threw his arms about me as I comforted him, assuring him that
dominus
meant no harm. I looked back to where Crassus stewed. “I’m certain lady Tertulla would be grateful if you apologized.”

Dominus
’ eyes narrowed. “Apologies, Hannibal,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have shouted.”

I stepped aside, holding Hanno’s claw of a hand. “That
’s all right, Father Jupiter,” he sniffed. “I forgive you.”

“Now, just a …”

“There now, feeling better, aren’t we?” I said, stifling a laugh. “You wait here, Hannibal, while Father Jupiter and I finish talking, then we’ll go to the kitchen as promised. There’s a good fellow.”

I sat down smiling.

“You are never to call me that, do you hear?” Crassus said under his breath.

“One can see how the boy might be confused.”

“Never,” Crassus hissed. “And you are never to speak of it.”

“By the Vestals, I swear,” I said, still working at ironing the grin from my face. “Where were we?”

“About to bribe the tribune of the plebs to forestall the elections.”

“
Yes. We will continue,” Crassus said, “to thwart Lentulus as often as we must till his term expires.”

“And then an interrex?
But who?”

Crassus nodded. “
Who knows? A man who will put our case before the
comitia
with more enthusiasm than our diligent but misguided consuls.”

“The interregnum can last no more than five days. How long can this persist?”

“
Until we find an interrex who sees things our way, but I should think that by the end of Januarius, the people will have had enough of the upheaval this regrettable ploy is bound to ignite, and will rise up to plead for a return to normalcy. I ask you, who in this city is more a bastion of normalcy than I?”

Abruptly, Crassus’ bearing relaxed into almost childish excitement. “Now, prepare yourself for the best news of all:  Publius returns within a week!”

“
Dominus
!”

“Arrange for a banquet during the festival of Jupiter. A perfect occasion for a celebration.”

“How did you manage to pry The Bane of Aquitania away from Caesar?”

“The legions are preparing to take up winter quarters; the great general can spare my son, surely. What?”

My incredulity was showing. “
Dominus
, Caesar would never release his most celebrated lieutenant for a family reunion, no matter how well-deserved. The tribes of Gaul are as yet unsubdued.”

“As are the people of this city.”

So that was it.
“I see. And how many will be in Publius’ party?”

“A goodly number. Caesar writes that he rides at the head of twelve
cohorts
, something more than five thousand legionaries.”

“Something more than five thousand votes, if I take your meaning.”

“Bright as ever, bright as ever,” he said. As he rose from his chair, Crassus tousled my hair. I
hated
it when he did that. “Don’t tell
domina
,” he said, bending to scoop up the folds of his toga, carrying it in both arms like a pile of laundry. “She could do well with a surprise such as this.”