Slaves to Love - One

by J. P. Bowie

  “Lucius, do not speak ill of your father so.”

  “Then what do you propose, Mother? How are we to pay the lenders if I do not work?”

  Tears filled her eyes as she gazed up at me. “I do not know, but you are now the man of the house...”

  “And as such, I will make the decisions.” I looked out into the courtyard where Julia and Lucia sat, unaware of the drama unfolding around them. “Very well…” I softened my tone, in order to avoid causing her further distress. “I will talk this over with Turio. Perhaps he has some ideas, but I will pursue my thought of finding a teaching situation. It is common knowledge that there is a dearth of good teachers in Capua.”

  My mother sat in silence after I had spoken, the tears now wetting her cheeks. I knelt before her, and took her in my arms.

  “Don’t worry,” I murmured, holding her trembling body gently. “All will be well. I won’t let this... problem trouble you.”

  Turio listened with sympathy as I told him of the dilemma that had befallen us.

  “What do you think of my decision to teach?”

  “A good decision, Lucius.” He shook his head sadly. “Your poor mother—how distraught she must be, thinking that all the while your father had left his family in good stead. Do you know the amount of the debts he left?”

  I grimaced at the thought. “Several hundred thousand sestertii. I will never be able to pay them all off. But Turio, I cannot have my mother and sisters turned out of their home.”

  “Of course not.” He looked at me steadily for a moment. “There is a man...” He hesitated for a moment, then continued. “He would pay off your debts for, shall we say, favors from you?”

  “What kind of favors?” I asked, not comprehending where my friend was going with this.

  “Sexual favors,” he said, looking away.

  “What?” I gaped at him. “How do you know such a man?”

  Turio’s face was now suffused with embarrassment. “Dido needed some financial help to complete her annulment.”

  “And?”

  “And he said he would help her, in exchange for an evening’s... uh... pleasure.”

  “By the gods,” I breathed. “And you agreed to this?”

  “Only to help Dido. Believe me, she anguished over it.”

  “Of course she must have. To have given herself in that way. The poor woman.” My earlier irritation over Dido’s critical views of my admiration for Callistus faded away, as I imagined the humiliation she must have felt being put in such a heinous situation. But it was Turio’s next words that made me gasp with shock.

  “No, Lucius... not her.” He looked at me through pain-filled eyes. “It was me he wanted.”

  I gaped at him, astounded. “And you say, she anguished over it? And what, my dear Turio, did you feel? You, who so readily turns up his nose at my proclivities? Are you telling me, you actually went through with this?”

  He cast me an angry look, then muttered, “Yes.”

  “I can’t believe it!”

  “Stop it, Lucius. I’m only telling you this to help you out of a tight spot. Never did I think I would have to confess this to anyone.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry.” I grasped his hand. “Forgive me.”

  He nodded. “I understand your shock. Your friend Turio, of all people. By Jupiter, Lucius, if he only had looked like you or Petronius, it would not have been so bad.”

  “He’s ugly?”

  “In a word, yes... and obese.”

  “Oh, my friend, I am so sorry.”

  “Please, never tell Dido you know. It took her a long time to forgive herself for placing me in that situation.”

  I bit my tongue to avoid the angry retort that threatened to burst from my lips. I would say nothing, but I would never look at the lady in the same way again. “What is this man’s name?” I asked, straining to keep my voice from showing my emotion.

  “Venel Papni.”

  I had heard the name uttered in my father’s presence, and remembered it because of its foreign sound. “The Etruscan merchant?”

  “Yes. He owns his own fleet of trading ships. The man is immensely wealthy.”

  “What makes you think he would help me?”

  Turio gave me a wry smile. “One look at you, my friend, and he will melt. You could hold him with one glance from those limpid eyes of yours. If you wish to meet him, I will arrange it.”

  I sat quietly for a long time, mulling over this strange development. According to Turio, the Etruscan would absolve me of all debt if I would bed with him. As grotesque as it sounded, it would save my mother and sisters from homelessness, and our family reputation from disgrace. The fact that I would have sold my body to accomplish this seemed unimportant in light of the alternatives.

  Turio was watching me with sad eyes. It was a measure of our friendship that he had confessed to me his association with Papni in an effort to help me, and I deeply appreciated it. But could I go through with such an assignation?

  “How terrible was it for you?”

  Turio’s eyes clouded at the memory of his humiliation. “As terrible as you can imagine.”

  “Perhaps I could meet with him first—on a business basis?”

  Turio shrugged. “He will only help you if you agree to his terms. Nothing else will suffice.”

  “Very well. Would you then arrange a meeting with the man.” My hand trembled as I gripped Turio’s arm. “Of course, this will remain our secret...”

  “Of course.” We stood and embraced, holding each other for longer than usual, as if what was to happen had further cemented our bonds of friendship.

  × × × × ×

  I did not hear from Turio for two days, and in that time I visited several nearby schools, seeking employment. It was still my hope that if I could find a fair paying position, I could pay off our debts without resorting to Papni’s terms.

  Alas, although I was indeed offered teaching posts at two schools, the combined wages would not make the lightest dent in what we owed after food and clothing was purchased for my sisters. My mother and I had already decided to make do with what clothes we had, but the girls were growing apace, needing new clothes as they blossomed.

  I accepted the jobs nevertheless, then, to lessen my despondency at what lay ahead, visited the arena to see the listed schedule of gladiators who would fight in the coming weeks. I gasped with shock as I read the names of the prize bout for the next day:

  ‘Spartacus, the Thracian vs. Callistus, the Gaul.’

  I stared at the board, my heart constricted with fear and apprehension. Spartacus, known as the invincible, against the man for whom I yearned both night and day. Could I bear to watch this, knowing that it might end in his death? Could I stay away, wondering, agonizing over what the outcome might be? I knew I had to be there to cheer him on, and to yell his name loud enough that he might hear me. To perhaps take power from my presence.

  Such was my flight of fancy.

  Turio was waiting for me at my house when I returned. “What news?” I asked, grimfaced, after we had embraced.

  Unable to meet my eyes he muttered, “He wants to meet you tomorrow evening.”

  I nodded, already filled with despair. Tomorrow might very well turn out to be the worst day of my life. First, perhaps witnessing Callistus butchered in the arena, then having to give in to the slobbering caresses of a man I already detested without ever having met him.

  Irony, I thought, sheer irony.

  After Turio left, I told my mother that I had secured teaching positions at two schools. We would at least have food on the table and a roof over our heads for the time being.

  That night, lying sleepless on my bed, I imagined all the ways that the morrow’s events could unfold. Callistus might just be victorious against Spartacus, and I could go to Papni at least with the knowledge that my warrior lived. Or I could watch Callistus die at the hands of another gladiator, then have to go through with my part of the bargain, mourning the fact th
at I would never see the Gaul again. Or again, Spartacus might spare his life as he had the Nubian’s. Then I would know that, even after the hours of debasement at the hands of the Etruscan merchant, I could still dream of one day being with Callistus.

  Or, I could just kill myself before any of this happened.

  × × × × ×

  In the morning, I had an appointment with the owner of the school where I would conduct the morning class. A large jolly man, Gracus Filio put me at my ease quickly.

  “How are you at rhetoric?” he asked, walking with me through the school grounds.

  I smiled. “Some would tell you that if anyone could be relied on for speech-making, it would be I.”

  “Excellent. Then that shall be your main class. The Republic needs greater orators, d’you not agree?”

  “Absolutely,” I said with some fervor. I would have agreed with anything Gracus Filio had to say. I needed the position. I left the appointment feeling satisfied that at least this part of my life would prove to be bearable. What loomed ahead in the evening, I tried very hard, but unsuccessfully, to forget.

  Once again, the stands at the arena were filled to overflowing. It took much pushing, shoving, and having curses rained on my head for me to finally reach a point where I could see the entire arena. The sky was overcast that day, and the rumbling boom of thunder could be heard in the distance.

  After the dancers had finished the opening routine and exited to a smattering of applause, the trumpets sounded, and about twelve gladiators marched into the arena. I saw him instantly, despite the fact his face was entirely covered by a helmet’s visor. I could never mistake his imposing physique for anyone else’s. I smiled as he raised the helmet visor, his eyes searching the faces in the crowd.

  Again, I felt as though he were looking for me. Why else would he scan the stands each time he was in the arena? None of the other gladiators ever showed the slightest interest in who was watching them. Only he stood, his head tilted back, as if searching for a familiar face—mine! I jumped up and down, waving my arms above my head so he could see me. No matter how ridiculous I may have looked, I wanted above all else for him to know I was there, cheering him on. I almost died from happiness on seeing him incline his head slightly, in an apparent acknowledgement of my presence.

  Something different was happening this day. Ten men formed a circle, surrounding two others who now faced each other in combat. This meant that they could not use the whole arena, but had to fight within the confines of this human barrier. Each time one of the men backed into someone in the circle, he was pushed forward toward his opponent. Because of this, those who used fleetness of foot as their method of defense could not escape the other combatant’s sword thrusts. It made for a shorter, though more violent duel; one where the weaker man was quickly overwhelmed.

  We were treated to three of these tests. Five badly injured men were carried from the arena, while the remaining seven now faced off against one another. The odd man out stood watching and waiting for his turn when eventually, a man would fall and he would be signaled in by a trumpet blast. This went on until there were only two men left in the arena.

  My heart beat faster. Callistus faced Spartacus, each man touching his opponent’s sword in salute. The crowd, having roared their way through the previous fights, now fell silent in anticipation, watching these two favorites circle one another, short swords and shields positioned at the ready. A clash of metal rang out. Spartacus was driven back by a breathtaking series of slashes and jabs from Callistus’ sword. The crowd roared its approval, while I stood transfixed by the sight of these two magnificent men now locked in deadly combat.

  Spartacus rallied, pushing Callistus backward so hard he stumbled, falling heavily to the ground. Spartacus was on him in an instant, his sword battering furiously on Callistus’ shield.

  “Callistus!” I yelled, trying to be heard over the screaming of the crowd. A man next to me picked up my call, then another, and another.

  “Callistus, Callistus!” His name was torn from hundreds of throats, and I yelled in triumph seeing him roll from under the relentless barrage of blows on his shield, then jump to his feet, seemingly none the worse for his narrow escape. The crowd was now on its feet, the air filled with shouts of “Spartacus!” and “Callistus!”

  The men fought on, parrying, thrusting, with great skill and daring. This was probably the most exciting fight anyone had ever witnessed in the Capua arena, or I’d wager, in Rome itself. On and on they fought, the air rent with the clashing of their shields and swords, until it seemed that they would simply wear each other out, as neither man would give quarter, yet could not quite overpower the other.

  Then, as if someone had called “Halt!” both men suddenly stopped fighting, threw away their weapons, and held each other’s hands above their heads in triumph. The crowd roared its approval again, admiration for the courage and dexterity of the two gladiators overcoming the need to see their blood spilled.

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief. He would live to fight another day. I stood very still, praying that before he left the arena, he would look my way and bestow his wonderful smile upon me. I was not disappointed, but he did much more than that. Picking up his sword, he walked with a deliberate tread straight toward where I stood. I think my heart stopped beating as he stared up at me before raising his sword to me in salute.

  Someone standing beside me whispered in my ear as I smiled and raised my hand in acknowledgement of the Gaul’s salute. “Are you his sponsor?”

  “Uh...something like that,” I muttered back, all the while unable to tear my eyes away from the Gaul’s captivating smile. He turned on his heel and marched away, flinging his arm around Spartacus as they left the arena together.

  I thought my heart would burst with pride.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Filled with elation, I had forgotten my later appointment with Venel Papni. The remembrance of it came almost as a physical blow to my stomach. I sat outside a tavern in the marketplace, my head in my hands, searching my mind for a way out of this horrendous situation.

  Of course, I could change my mind and simply not go. I could forget all about it; find some other way to pay off the crushing debts my father had left us. I sat there filled with the sickening knowledge of what I might have to endure, when a terrible thought occurred to me.

  Was this my father’s revenge on me? Had he hated me so much all these years that he had deliberately put me in a position where I would be degraded and humiliated? Surely not. There had been no love lost between us for many years. His hardness had brought bitter words from me on many occasions, his only retaliation a cold stare and silence. Yet, he had known Venel Papni through his business. Could he have known of the man’s penchant for extracting sexual favors in exchange for freedom from debt?

  I shuddered at the thought that even my father’s cold, unfeeling demeanor could lead him to hope that one day I would be led to Papni’s front door.

  Dejection weighing on my shoulders, I made my way home to bathe and change my clothes. Turio was to meet me later and conduct me to Papni’s residence. Perhaps a cup or two of wine would deaden my senses a little.

  My mother was quick to notice my sullen mood. “Lucius,” she said, touching my arm gently. “What ails you? Usually, an afternoon at the arena puts you in much better spirits. Were the fights too staged?”

  “No, indeed Mother.” I even managed to smile as I remembered the salute I had received from Callistus. “It was one of the best I have ever witnessed. Two men set the arena on fire with their bravery. You should have heard the crowd roar.”

  She smiled at me. “Then what is it, my dear son?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all. Oh…” I thought it best to change the subject before she pressed for more details of my desultory mood. “I spoke with Gracus Filio today. He’ll have me teaching next week.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yes, and with the other classes I can cover, we’ll have our
finances in excellent shape before long.” I kissed her cheek. “Now, I must bathe and change. Turio and I are going out tonight.”

  Turio arrived while I was still in the bath, trying vainly to let the warm water soothe away the mental pulse of pain that throbbed in my head. He sat by me, gazing at a spot somewhere slightly above my head. So that we could speak freely, I dismissed Rollus, my manservant, who was hovering nearby.

  “So, you’ll do it?” Turio asked finally, when we were alone.

  I nodded. “I can see no other choice. I thought of asking some of my father’s business associates, but he was not a popular man, even with them. I doubt if they would care. Turio...” I forced him to look at me. “Promise me that no one shall ever hear of this—ever. My mother would die of shame if she knew.”

  “I promise, Lucius. The shame I feel for even suggesting this is already crushing my spirit. By the gods, if I could help you myself, I would. I would give anything to prevent what I know will happen tonight.”

  Despite the water’s warmth, I shivered. Standing up, I accepted the towel he handed me. After I had rubbed myself vigorously, I massaged a little fragrant oil into my skin, then combed my hair, letting my black curls tumble around my brow.

  Turio groaned as he gazed at me. “Oh, Lucius...the man will never want to let you go.”

  “What are you saying, Turio? You who do not find beauty in men.” I laughed lightly to ease his spirits, and my own at the same time.

  “I can see what he will see,” he replied, with a glum expression. “Even though I do not bed with men, I can admire comeliness in anyone, man or woman, and you are an extremely comely young man, Lucius.”

  “Well…” I slipped a tunic of sage green over my head. “Thank you for that, my friend.” I winked at him. “I have decided that I will drink all the wine he offers, then perhaps I will have no memory of what transpired.”

  “I will pray to the gods that it will be so.”

  × × × × ×

  Later, we stood outside Venel Papni’s home, an imposing high-walled marble residence, lit outside by torches lining each wall.