Aquila Et Noctua Read online

  “Yes, Master, as you wish.” She took Saul by the hand. “Let’s go, whatever you are.”

  Realizing he could speak freely to her as an equal, he took the chance to stand his ground. “My name is Saul, and I am a boy, not a thing.”

  She laughed. “You’ve got some attitude. Off with that, son, or you might find yourself in trouble.”

  They walked through the house until they reached a room with a large pool. Water streamed from one wall to the opposite one collecting into a pool placed in the middle.

  The room was opened to a large inner garden, and finely decorated columns sustained its roof.

  As the younger female slave gathered balsamic oils to massage Saul’s body and feet, the older one passed a hand through his hair, disappointed.

  “How did you get that dirty?” she asked, mostly to herself.

  Saul glanced at her and chuckled; she seemed to be very kind as she caressed his hair gently, remembering him of the times when his mother combed him.

  He immersed his body in the water of the pool and started to scrub the dirt from his body, helped by the other two slaves.

  After four baths, the older slave approved. “Well, what do you know? Now you resemble a boy. How old are you?” she asked as she patted his body with a soft cloth to dry him.

  “I am eleven. What’s your name?”

  “My name is usually too complicated for everybody to pronounce correctly, so let’s say that you can call me Nana. I mostly supervise the other slaves and the proper running of the house. When dirty, tiny things like you come in, I have to take care of them as well.” She started to comb his hair.

  The younger one shook her head disconcerted. “Such a little child. I am Cassandra and help Nana with her tasks. Is your mother still alive? Where is your family?”

  Saul sighed recalling the events, “we were brought here together from my homeland. I was the first one to be sold. I’m confused to understand what has happened to me.”

  The tone of his voice turned a bit melancholic.

  Cassandra remained silent and stood to gather clean clothes for him. It was the first time she’d seen such a young child brought into slavery. Until that moment, she had thought slaves had to be at least fourteen years old to be sold.

  Cassandra felt glad for him; he was brought to a good house where their Masters behaved in a fair way toward them. For herself, she hoped one day to be set free to return to her village, hoped to find something left of her family and friends.

  “Now, Saul, sit down and let’s have a look at your feet.” Nana’s gentle fingers examined them. “Our Master was right; they really look terrible… but the wounds are just superficial and with the right care, they will heal completely.”

  “Ouch,” he yelped as she touched an open wound.

  “Oh, did it hurt that bad?”

  “A bit; you took me by surprise.”

  She continued to massage them with a balm, which was believed to heal the wounds faster.

  Cassandra came back carrying a pair of sandals, a tunic, and a loincloth. “Here you are, Saul. Now you’ll have clean clothes all the time,” she said as Nana continued to massage his body with oil, which had that earthy and woodsy aroma capable of soothing his senses.

  He considered himself, happy to recognize the semblance he had when he was a free boy with his family.

  His dark, wavy hair softly fell upon his shoulders, and his skin smelled fresh. The clean clothes wrapped around his body gave him revived sensations he thought were lost forever. Like a spell, those feelings were back for him—except he was a slave.

  He had a Master who owned his body and soul; he wasn’t free anymore and probably never would be again.

  “Look at yourself, son. You are so beautiful,” Nana said, proud of the results achieved.

  “Maybe we can make you look even better.” Cassandra gathered his hair and bound it with a red ribbon from her own locks. “Our Master had an exceptionally good eye when he chose you. I would never have expected to find such an adorable creature beneath all that dirt.”

  Nana smiled. “You’re right. Surely Master will be pleased with the result. You’re ready, Saul.”

  “What kind of person is our Master’s son? I’ve understood I should be his companion,”

  Nana replied, “Fear not; he is a kind person, as all our Masters are, so I think you won’t have any problem with being his companion. Neither do I think that you will ever find any difficulty in following Master Marcus Tiberius’ orders. He is a severe person, but never cruel or unfair. He expects the best service from us, but I can’t recall him punishing any of his slaves as much as it occurs in other Masters’ houses.”

  “What is going to happen now?” he asked.

  “Well, in this house, we have three Masters. You already met Marcus Tiberius, the man who bought you in the market square. Besides him, there is his wife, Mistress Flaminia, and their only son, Master Flavius.”

  “First, we will go to Master Marcus Tiberius. If he thinks you are ready, he will introduce you to his wife, and eventually to their son. This is the way he likes it to be.”

  She stood and walked him through the house, holding his hand in her own. As they crossed the garden, Saul saw a group of slaves sitting in a circle around a woman whom he guessed to be Mistress Flaminia.

  The garden bloomed with flowers and plants he never saw in his life. It was extremely well kept, adorned with beautiful statues and fountains at every corner. He thought his Master had to be a wealthy man, and it reminded him of his home.

  Saul came from a wealthy family, but they did not have slaves. He had never thought he would become a slave in Rome, a slave of the same culture that had fascinated him so much.

  Immersed in his thoughts, he arrived at the working room where Marcus Tiberius kept himself busy, reading a few papers that were placed orderly on his desk.

  “Master, your slave is ready,” Nana announced. He raised his eyes and looked at Saul, who kept his own lowered so as not to meet his Master’s gaze.

  Saul felt the pressure of the moment, praying not to disappoint. His heart was beating faster, his hands started to feel damp with sweat, and he just wanted to be anywhere else but there under the scrutinizing gaze of his new Master.

  Chapter 2.

  Marcus Tiberius stood speechless. He couldn’t believe his eyes; nevertheless, there he was, that filthy creature barely identifiable as a human being he’d bought that morning, transformed into a godly creature.

  Red ribbons bound the dark hair gathered on his head; his tunic fitted along his body following its immature yet perfect proportions.

  It was as if the gods came down to celebrate that boy with their gifts. Apollo gave him the delicate beauty of his youth, Venus the grace, and the torches of the underworld proudly burning in his black eyes were the precious gifts of Orcus.

  Marcus walked toward him as if mesmerized. He felt caught in a spell, unable to take his eyes away from him. “Leave us alone…” he said, as if in a trance, and the two female slaves silently left the room.

  Saul felt Marcus Tiberius' eyes upon him and fought the urge to squirm. He couldn’t exactly define his feelings. He wasn’t scared; perhaps the unpredictability of what was going to happen made him nervous.

  Marcus Tiberius caressed Saul’s face, from his cheek to his chin, and gently raised it to meet his eyes. “You look almost scared, Saul. Do I scare you?”

  “No, Master. I am confused. I guess I have to learn what my place is from this moment onwards,” struggling with the urge to avoid Marcus’ eyes.

  “I’m not cruel to my slaves, but I think I understand your feelings. You have been in contact with our culture, so slavery should be something known to you.”

  Switching languages, he released the boy’s chin.

  He knew he could have checked at least his languages skills at the market, but he felt being rushed by the merchant and overlooked that chance

  “You said you can speak Greek.”
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br />   “Yes, Master, I have been learning Hellenic language and culture since I was four years old,” he replied promptly being confident about the level of his education, with a bright smile on his face.

  Marcus Tiberius smirked. “Very well, you spoke the truth, and I appreciate that,” and he walked away from him to the other side of the room where there was a wooden bench.

  Saul remained in silence, observing every move of his Master until he sat down.

  “Saul, come here and take a seat,” he ordered gesturing toward the floor.

  Saul walked toward him and sat at his feet, looking up to meet his eyes.

  “I bought you because, for some reason, you impressed me at the market. As soon as I saw your beauty today, I realized I made an excellent choice, but I need more than that,” Marcus Tiberius explained. “From you, I need the skills you’ve shown me, and I need loyalty. I don’t know if I have that from you. Loyalty to me under any circumstances. I must be able to trust you with my life. Without that, you are useless to me.”

  Saul thought he could understand the point of his request, and in the market, he had felt the crazy desire to be owned by Marcus Tiberius; he had wanted to be bought by him.

  “Master, I don’t know how I can convince you; I will do whatever it takes to serve you at my best. However, I am only a boy, and I know nothing about slavery.”

  Marcus Tiberius smiled at that simple, innocent, and sincere answer and felt in his heart that he hadn’t made a mistake when he decided to buy him.

  “Saul, you are going to become an essential tool in my work; moreover, my son has suffered much, missing a companion, and your role with him will be just as important. I will not accept a single fail on that.”

  He paused, staring into Saul’s eyes, trying to understand whether he would be worth his trust or not. “Your tasks will include helping me with translations and accompanying me during my trips as I might need an interpreter. You will continue your education so your skills will improve, and you can be more helpful. Concerning my son, Flavius, he is a bit older than you, but I believe he will appreciate the presence of someone of about his age in this household.”

  Saul listened to his Master in silence, nodding from time to time to let him know that he was paying attention.

  Marcus Tiberius caressed his face. “You are only a boy, Saul, but you are smart, and I understand you have been born as a free man. I want you to see me not only as your Master but also as a guide. Now come with me; we are going to meet my wife, Flaminia,” he said, taking his hand in his own.

  They walked through the house to the same garden he had walked through from the bath.

  As they approached the Mistress with the small group of slaves from earlier, she rose with a warm smile and walked to meet her husband.

  “Who is this little child?” Flaminia asked, considering Saul from head to toes.

  “His name is Saul, and he is my new slave; I bought him this morning. He is going to help me with my job and will accompany me on business trips. I thought that he could, as well, be a good companion for Flavius.” He glanced at both the boy and his wife.

  She caressed the boy’s hair. “How old are you, Saul?”

  “I am eleven, Mistress.”

  At that answer, her expression turned serious, almost worried as she peered at Marcus Tiberius. “Isn’t he too young?” she asked, concerned.

  “The merchant certainly didn’t share your opinion. He might be young, but he is smart. I believe he can adapt to his new life as a slave quickly enough. As a companion for Flavius, it is better if he is young. You are worrying excessively,” he replied with a careless tone in his voice, trying to hide the turmoil agitating his soul since that slave came into his life.

  She turned her face toward Saul, then again to her husband, not entirely convinced by his reasoning.

  “Leave us alone, please. I want to know him better,” she said, looking at her husband. She put her arm around Saul’s shoulder, and guided him away, leaving the other slaves continuing their work, without waiting for Marcus Tiberius’ answer.

  She sat on a bench, allowing Saul to sit at her feet and, with a quiet expression, considered him. “Tell me something about you, Saul.”

  He raised his gaze up at her and tried to collect his thoughts. “I honestly don’t know what to say, Mistress. I was born into a wealthy family. My father was a textile merchant, and my mother took care of my little sister and me. He hired a teacher from Greece, who taught me the Hellenic and Latin languages. I have always been fascinated by your culture and by the power of Rome, but I never expected I would be part of it. Concerning my feelings…I don’t know what to say. The only thing certain in my mind is that my life is never going to be the same.”

  “My husband was right. You speak with wiser words than a child’s. I am confident you will soon find in your heart the answers to your questions, Saul.” She caressed his dark hair.

  “Do you still have a family? You said that you had a father, a mother, and a sister. Where are they now?”

  “They were at the auction with me; I hope that my sister will be sold with my mother.” He beseeched her with wide eyes.

  Afraid of what the answer would be, he asked, “Mistress, is it possible for a five-year-old girl to be sold without her mother?”

  She shifted her gaze away from him, searching for the right words, unsure of what she should say to make him feel better.

  Certainly, she knew there wasn’t a particular age to be sold as a slave, but she didn’t want to upset the boy.

  “I don’t know for sure, but don’t you worry; everything will be fine, Saul,” she replied, trying to be diplomatic in her answer.

  In her heart, she knew she was not quite telling him the truth, and generally, with other slaves, she wouldn’t have much cared. However, she felt uncomfortable in front of that child, who meekly accepted his slave status with courage and dignity, asking for certainties she could not grant.

  His eyes, looking at her as if to ask for mercy; his young age, his beauty, and his innocence were something she could not resist.

  “You are really beautiful, you know that? We should take care of this precious gift, and this red ribbon is truly lovely with your dark hair,” she said, changing the topic.

  Saul smiled at her. He realized he’d asked a question which didn’t have a simple and univocal answer, so he remained silent.

  He remained in silence, thinking about his situation. He knew that, as a slave in Rome, he had no rights, but it seemed as if God had been merciful to him as Marcus Tiberius and his wife showed themselves as kind Masters.

  He had no idea how many slaves lived in the same house, but he thought there were probably many, as Marcus Tiberius seemed to be a wealthy man.

  He glanced around confused as if trying to find some answers about what was expected from him. He tried to familiarize himself with the place and the smells.

  He knew the Romans had slaves and that the treatment reserved for them varied with the character of their Masters, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to behave.

  Mistress Flaminia looked at him, trying to guess his thoughts, although she could imagine that a child who was born free would have a difficult time understanding the meaning of slavery.

  Suddenly, she realized that, in all likelihood, the last time he ate was the previous day.

  “Tell me, are you hungry?”

  Saul turned his eyes up to her and seemed hesitant to answer the question. “I am, Mistress,” he replied ashamedly lowering his gaze and twisting his fingers.

  She stood and called a man who was walking across the garden.

  “We have a new slave in this household; he was purchased this morning. Take him to have a proper meal, and when he is done, bring him back to me.”

  He bowed his head. “Yes, Mistress.”

  The tall man looked at Saul, “Come with me,” he said and walked away.

  His strong body structure reminded Saul of a warrior, and he wonde
red whether his duties within the household were those of guarding and protecting their Masters.

  They walked away to a room that he guessed was the kitchen, as there was a massive table with chairs, a fireplace, and storage closets for pots and food.

  “Now, sit down and I will see if I can find something to fill up your belly,” the slave said, disappearing to a sort of backroom.

  Saul noticed that each slave wore a collar. He wondered whether this was the one he’d heard about, where the name of the owner was inscribed. He wondered when or whether his neck would be enclosed in a similar one, defining him as a slave, as mere property—a living creature, but not a person— a pet, perhaps.

  He sat on a chair at the table and considered the entire day and his situation. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized that he was indeed hungry as his empty stomach rumbled.

  After a while, the same slave returned with an abundant portion of food in a bowl. “The slave who takes care of the kitchen is out to run a few errands, so I just gathered what I found. I guess you should be really hungry, so go on and clean your plate; your day is not over yet,” he said, sitting in front of him.

  “Thank you,” Saul said as he dug into the food. In between bites, he asked, “What’s your name?”

  “I am Caleb, and you are?” the slave asked, looking amused at the boy.

  “I am Saul,” he replied, continuing eating.

  “Welcome. Do you already know your duties?” Caleb asked, trying to imagine what that little and delicate creature could be useful for.

  “I understood that I will be Master Marcus Tiberius’ interpreter and translator. Moreover, I will be his son’s companion; I haven’t yet met him, and I hope he will like me.”

  “You won’t have any problems. Master Flavius is a mild-natured person, exactly like his mother.”

  “Caleb, I was born as a free man, and I don’t know anything about slavery.” He wanted to ask how a slave is supposed to behave. As he tried to form the words, Caleb spoke again.

  “Son, from the moment our Master bought you, you ceased to be a person. You are nothing more than a living tool to serve him; you obey unconditionally whatever he orders. You shall never question his orders, nor will you talk back to him. However, in this household, you will be allowed free time, which you can spend any way you prefer, even frequenting the Thermae, or joining us at the tavern. Your life, from this day forward, must be selflessly devoted to serving your owner, nothing else.”