* * *
Later, the Magdalene walked out, she and Jesus going about their nighttime depredations, taking a rare pair of robbers lurking outside town, looting and dumping the bodies in a cave. Jesus, feeling the need to work, had decided to assist Icarus and Ganymede in constructing the forge, so getting supper early allowed him to pursue this task.
“Why do you want to help your slaves?” Mary asked, walking back to the farm.
“Who knows, maybe I just want to get to know them.”
“Do what you feel like,” she replied, heading into the house.
Long past dusk, the two slaves were working by torchlight as Jesus walked out to them. “Good evening master Julius,” said Ganymede, forgetting Jesus had stated they could call him Julius, dispensing with any titles.
“Julius will do my Ganymede, and good evening to both of you, aren’t you working a little late tonight?”
“I want to have the forge operating as soon as possible,” said Icarus.
“That’s very industrious, but you needn’t overwork yourselves in the process of doing so,” Jesus replied, raising an eyebrow at their accomplishments.
“Your father let us rest during the afternoon after we unloaded the wagon,” said Ganymede, standing on a ladder, nailing down the last of the roof planks.
“Would you fellows want assistance?”
“From you sir?” asked a surprised Icarus.
“Sure, I could use the exercise,” Jesus replied, the slaves looking to him incredulously, “So friends, what needs done?”
“Okay,” said Ganymede, stepping down from the ladder. “Most of our work is finished for today, but we still have to place the anvil on the stone,” pointing to a flat boulder sitting in the middle of the structure, “It’ll be hard, though I think the three of us can manage it.”
“Certainly,” said Jesus, looking at the anvil, “Let’s do it.”
The slaves moved to the anvil, Jesus kneeling down to assist them. “Please be careful, it’s very heavy sir,” Ganymede warned, he and Icarus kneeling down.
“I’m good at lifting weights,” said Jesus, the three lifting the anvil. Using vampiric strength, he lifted most of the weight, the slaves feeling the 600-pound anvil had strangely lost some of its mass. Sitting it on the stone with a thud forcing the rock an inch into the earth, Jesus observed, folding arms across his chest, “That wasn’t so hard was it?”
“Not with three strong men!” Icarus exclaimed.
Looking about the structure, Jesus noted it was nearly finished, with the exception of the hearth. “You’ll need to move stones from the riverbank for the hearth, you can do that tomorrow if you like. Are either of you masons?”
“No,” came the replies.
“I am, so I’ll help you build the hearth during the next few evenings,” said Jesus. The slaves staring at him, he added as an afterthought, “It’s a good thing we have some concrete left, it’ll save my father a trip to Drusus’ place.”
“You want to help us with it?” asked Icarus.
“Why not, neither of you know how to lay stone and I do. Now friends, would you care to join me in a bottle of wine?”
“Yes, if it’s all right with you,” Icarus answered.
“If it wasn’t all right with me I wouldn’t have asked you,” a smiling Jesus declared, walking out and returning with a magnum he had hidden nearby. Digging out the stopper with an awl, he took a long drink and passed the bottle to Icarus.
“There’s a law in Rome against slaves drinking wine,” said Ganymede as Icarus passed him the magnum.
“We’re not in Rome,” Jesus replied, “We’re on my father’s farm, and if you recall, they also have laws in some Roman cities against slaves using brothels.”
“Yes Julius the younger, but what does that have to do with us standing here drinking wine with you?” asked Ganymede.
“Slaves or not, you’re still men aren't you? And men have their needs don’t they? There’s a brothel in town, and I was thinking if you help my father in running the farm well, good wine and a visit to the brothel on occasion would be a reasonable reward.”
Both Icarus and Ganymede stood thunderstruck at the words of Jesus. Here was a man they saw as a Roman slave owner, not known for treating slaves in any manner other than property, drinking wine with them and treating them like men instead of common animals.
“Are you serious Julius?” asked Icarus.
“Verily I say, though we may own you, you and your fellows are still people. A master who treats his slaves well will never have to worry about slaves becoming recalcitrant or of them plotting against him,” intoned Jesus, an index finger in the air.
“What of Electra and Penelope?” asked Ganymede, noting they would have no use for whores.
“What about them?”
“Well, they’re women sir,” said Ganymede.
“I’m sure they have their needs, so we shall find them satiation too. Men and women do not live by toil alone, but by relaxation also: verily I say, strong wine, revelry, and good sex, all in moderation of course, definitely have their uses in leading a pleasant life.”
“I’ll say,” a smiling Icarus replied, growing inebriated from the undiluted Gallic wine.
“Master Julius,” said Ganymede, still not comfortable calling an owner by his given name, “Cyril asked me if you have found anything for him to read.”
“Not yet, but I’ll make a point to find him reading materials over the next few days.”
“I shall tell him Julius,” Ganymede replied, forcing himself to call his master by his given name.
“Why don’t we walk to your quarters so I can tell him myself?” asked Jesus, motioning in the direction of the slave quarters. The slaves followed Jesus, he knocking softly and opening the door, stepping into the slave’s lamp lit common area.
“Greetings Julius the younger,” said Cyril, opening eyes and sitting up in a chair.
“Good evening Cyril,” Jesus replied, Icarus and Ganymede moving past and sitting down in simple but functional chairs. “I’m attempting to find scrolls for you to read, having some perhaps as early as tomorrow evening.”
“It has only been a few days, if you are occupied with something else – ”
“No, no,” said Jesus, putting up a hand, “You’re an intellectual, and will need good literature to pass your leisure time, so I will provide them as soon as possible.”
“I thank you,” Cyril replied, studying what appeared to be a wealthy Roman man, speaking to him as if he were an equal.
“You’re welcome,” said Jesus, “Forgive me, I have to go. Will you tell the women we’ve gathered extra cooking pots, and that we also have a loom for them, sitting at the house?”
“I shall,” Cyril answered as Jesus turned and left, closing the door behind him. The teacher looked at Icarus and Ganymede, sitting quite pleased with themselves. “What is up with you two?” he asked, watching Icarus break into a broad smile.
“You're not going to believe this, Julius the younger helped us place the anvil, then he drank a huge bottle of wine with us, and told us he wants to take us to the whorehouse sometime soon!”
“He did?” asked Cyril.
“Yes,” said Ganymede, “He said even though we’re slaves, we’re also men, and that along with work we have need of life’s pleasures.”
“He is an Epicurean, that explains it,” Cyril remarked.
“A what?” asked Icarus.
“An Epicurean, I believe that Julius the younger is a follower of Epicurus of Samos. He was a philosopher who lived in Greece about 300 years ago. Epicureans believe pleasure is the ultimate good, and that this ideal should be the goal of life.”
“Not a bad idea, I like wine, women and song,” said Icarus.
“That is not what I meant,” Cyril continued, “Epicurus stated t
he pursuit of intellectual pleasure is the ultimate goal, and that sensual pleasures, while fulfilling a need, are subordinate to the intellect.”
“What?” asked Icarus and Ganymede.
“Pleasing the mind is better than pleasing the body.”
“It is?” asked Ganymede, staring at him.
“Theoretically,” said Cyril, looking to the pair and breaking into a smile.
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