* * *
The harvest came a few weeks later, all the slaves working the fields, tending to the bountiful crops of wheat and barley. The herbs and other vegetables were coming in too, assuring the Chrysippus larder would be well stocked for the winter. Jesus and the Magdalene did their part, killing and draining deer, boars and aurochs of their blood, stocking the nearly overflowing smokehouse with another fifty sides of meat and providing skins for the slave women to make into leather. Ganymede built a granary shed, assisted by Joseph and son, erecting and completing the structure in less than four days. Jesus, now a skilled mason, had built the foundation the first evening, assisted by his consort, and during the following three days, Joseph and the slaves completed the wooden floor, walls and roof.
While crickets, the charges of Artemis, saluted summer’s end, the slaves finished cutting grain, the men separating wheat from chaff, the women plucking barleycorns from stems. Joseph smiled with satisfaction, watching his slaves tending their chores; his newly built granary shed later filled nearly to the brim with wheat and barley. In the span of a little over eight months, Jesus and father had created an efficient, productive farm, tended by seven slaves, with ‘Julius the Elder’ as he was known, considered a pillar of the community. Nodding to various townsfolk, he stopped by Gavinal’s office one fall afternoon and paid his property taxes of seven aurei, rounded by Jesus from a little over six and a half.
“The taxes are only six and a half aurei for this year Julius, you’ve given me seven, let me make change,” said Gavinal, staring at coins in his hand.
“Forget it,” Joseph replied while the prefect handed him a receipt, “We have plenty of money, keep the extra if you like or apply it to next year’s bill.”
“I shall apply it to next year’s bill.”
“Right,” said Joseph, walking from the office.
Callicles’ caravans came to town from the south a little over a week later, with the red-faced trader hawking his merchandise for only a week as he had to return to the Hellespont for resupply by November, and then to a one-month vacation at his palatial villa in eastern Thrace. That is, he was selling his wares in Tibernum between getting drunk with other local lushes, good people like Gavinal Septimus, Jesus, Joseph and the town notary, Marcus Pertinax. The evening before he left, Callicles made his way to Joseph’s farm, naturally while inebriated, and purchased eighty sides of smoked meat for 650 denarii.
“Thank you friends,” said Callicles, standing on the porch while his slaves loaded a wagon with meat, shaking Jesus’ and Joseph’s hands.
“You’re quite welcome,” answered Jesus, “Care for a drink?”
“Need you ask?” Callicles replied, walking into the kitchen.
Sitting at the table drinking Gallic wine, Callicles remarked, “Do you know about the new road west of here, it leads straight to Chrysopolis, saving my caravan 200 miles in travel!”
“Yes, Procurator Vitellius Caius Africanus opened it about month ago,” said Jesus, familiar with the western Roman highway ‘Via Tiberius Romanus’ and its ruthless hordes of highwaymen and cutthroats lurking in the shadows.
“We’ll use that road from now on, it’ll cut a week from our schedule,” Callicles replied, slurring his Latin.
“Be careful friend,” said Jesus, knowing the caravan was well protected, “Once you’re fifteen or twenty miles west of here many thieves lurk by the roadsides.”
“That’s why I employ mercenaries like my buddies Kago and Aeschesles,” Callicles answered, narrowing eyes in contempt of thieves while downing another gulp of wine. “Get this,” he added, holding out his goblet for a refill, “Anyone crossing our path with intent to rob gets nothing but death for their efforts. My men are heavily armed and have no qualms about killing thieves.”
“Really?” asked Joseph, unaware that Callicles was not only a shrewd businessman, but had been using his men for years to slaughter thieves prowling the highways. For this service, he received a bounty from the procurator for heads of criminals killed during their travels.
“Some of my men fought as professional gladiators in Rome and Capua. I let them loot thieves who attempt to rob us, naturally after they’ve killed and beheaded them of course, it makes them a lot of money,” said Callicles, Jesus refilling his goblet.
“Is that so?” asked Joseph, smiling and looking to Jesus.
“Yeah, I get 250 denarii in bounty for each one killed, I had fourteen pickled heads in a barrel I dropped off in Antioch two months ago.”
“A proper method for handling thieves,” said Jesus, thinking it was exactly the same method he used to deal with such people.
“Indeed, but my men usually spend all they make from robbers on wine and whores, I guess that’s why they tag along and keep working for me,” replied a chuckling Callicles, rising unsteadily from the table.
“Leaving so soon?” asked Joseph.
“No, I have to take a piss.”
“So do I,” said Jesus, the group heading out to answer nature’s call.
“You and your folks are good people Julius,” said Callicles, relieving himself by the chimney. “Tibernum colony is my favorite of stops, a pleasant place, with you and your father, friend Gavinal, Drusus the Illyrian, Caius Felix and that silly Marcus.”
“He does tell good jokes,” Jesus replied, adjusting his tunic.
“I don’t know where he gets them,” said Callicles, heading to the porch. He tripped up the steps and landed on the porch with a heavy thud.
“Are you all right uncle?” Demosthenes asked.
“Yeah, I just drink too much,” he replied, rising unsteadily. Enjoying the warm night, Callicles stood on the porch getting drunk, later falling to the floor unconscious, his goblet shattering beside him.
“I’m very sorry, we will replace it from our stock at once,” said Demosthenes, the fine crystal goblet having been expensive, imported from Rome.
“Forget it,” Jesus replied as his father rose from his chair, “We’ll buy more from you next time, no point worrying about broken glass.”
“But it was a crystal goblet.”
“Who cares,” said a drunken Joseph, skirting the shards and weaving through the door.
“If you say so,” the incredulous lad replied while looking to the doorway, knowing the goblet had cost at least five denarii.
“I do indeed say so,” Joseph called from the kitchen.
“Are you sure?” Demosthenes asked, looking to Jesus.
“It’s nothing,” Jesus replied.
“My uncle drinks too much,” said Demosthenes, looking to his unconscious form.
“Yeah, what can you do?” replied Jesus, rising from his seat and walking to the snoring trader, rolling him on his back.
“I’ll help you carry him to the wagon,” said Demosthenes.
“That’s the idea,” Jesus answered, the pair moving Callicles from the floor, an arm over the lad’s shoulder, another over Jesus’ shoulder. Demosthenes took the reins after Jesus lifted the unconscious trader into the wagon.
Bidding farewell, the lad said they would return in late March or early April, depending on availability of stock.
“Take it easy kid,” Jesus replied as Demosthenes took a deep gulp of wine, following in his uncle’s footsteps.
“I always do, and guess what – I got laid for the first time two weeks ago by a slut in Daphinos!”
“Good for you,” said Jesus, the boy cracking a whip over the horse’s heads, galloping away over the bumpy road leading from the farm. “We’ll have to get the road fixed before somebody gets killed,” he added, watching the wagon heave to one side on two wheels.
Heading out with the Magdalene while his father snored in a kitchen chair, the couple flew to the west road, finding and killing a pair of thieves seventeen miles west of Tibernum. After a few lean months, they had found a windfal
l, flying off for a few days to prey about Mansahir, or to stroll the newly opened highway from the west. This much-needed road ultimately connected to a distant city named Nicomedia, many hundreds of miles away on the Sea of Marmara.
Staying far enough from Gavinal and his centurion’s grasp, thieves had taken up residence by the roadsides, providing Jesus and Mary with plenty of blood and cold cash. From the increased amount of money they were acquiring in Mansahir and the heavily traveled west road, Jesus took time to visit his cave every few weeks or so, instead of once every other month as he had since moving in with his parents. Each time they entered the dark labyrinth, he added more booty to his treasure trove, a princely sum amounting to nearly 4,500 aurei in coinage, not counting priceless jewels and jewelry, their value perhaps three times that. Thanks to their newfound preying ground on the west road, they were growing richer with each passing night.
Dark Resurrection Page 44
