The Master's Wall

by Sandi Rog

  “Up ahead,” Titus said with a wave of his hand, “is the Vibian Hill. There lies the family estate of Vibian Cornelius Aloysius, your new home.”

  To the left of the grand villa, a gradual incline of the Vibian Hill stretched out about a mile. Grapevines lined each green row. It was as though Elohim had come down and woven even rows of greenery from the top of the hill to its base. The tapestry spread out against the blue sky. David imagined flying, soaring high above the luscious hill. The familiar sensation of flight, the sensation he’d experienced when the soldier threw him, washed over his limbs. Sparks of anger ignited. He didn’t know how, but one day he’d make that soldier pay. Pay for taking his family away, for hurting Abba, and most of all, for hurting Mamma.

  Titus waved an arm toward the breathtaking view. “That’s the vineyard. Aloysius grows his grapes on this side of the hill. Caesar depends on him for native wine, but most people want foreign wines.”

  David’s mouth grew dry and his heart pounded as they neared a wall fortifying a magnificent villa. Small watchtowers bordered the vineyard along the barrier. What would he find behind this high wall? Protection? Death? Endless days of abuse?

  “The villa has two main entrances,” Titus said. “Each entrance has armed slaves guarding the doors. Many slaves live on the far side of the hill, and that’s where most of you will go today. You’ll labor in the vineyard outside of the wall’s protection. The household slaves will work here in the villa.” Titus eyed David.

  David took that to mean he’d be a household slave. How protected would he be locked up behind this stone wall? Would he find a way to escape? How many homes did this man, Aloysius own? He had so many questions. Would he be reprimanded for speaking without having been spoken to first? What were the rules for their slaves?

  “Whose house was that in Rome?” David’s curiosity won over his fear.

  Titus dropped back to the end of the line where David took his long steps to keep up. “It belongs to your master, Aloysius. Hired servants keep it up while we’re away.”

  Titus walked on ahead and led the slaves to the front entrance on the south side of the estate. He didn’t seem to be angry about David’s question, but he didn’t smile either. David thought it might be better to keep quiet next time. He could find answers to his questions by asking other slaves at the villa.

  Other slaves. He was actually one of them. Would he ever be free again? “Work hard and do a good job—prove yourself worthy—and the master will like you,” Titus had said. “He liked me so much, he offered me freedom.” Maybe David could earn his freedom like Titus had? He’d do everything in his power to gain back his freedom.

  Freedom was all he wanted, all he cared about. Perhaps there was hope. Hope of escaping the cage Titus had locked him in.

  On this side of the estate, double wooden doors opened up on the great wall to a wide vestibule where a large mosaic stretched out across the floor. The doors slammed behind him, trapping him inside the entry hall. David wanted to run to the doors, bang on them, and shout for someone to let him out.

  “Unbind the rope,” Titus said.

  A slave rushed to obey.

  Cool relief swept over David’s ankle as the rope slid off. He kicked his toes on the floor behind him to remove the pebbles. His soles reveled in the newfound smoothness of his sandals.

  Now he could run. He imagined running, working to open the door, but unable to unlock the latch. Whether he got through or not, Titus would catch him, and like he’d done before, toss him on the ground. Just the thought made his ribs hurt. Or worse, he would end David’s life with his jeweled sword.

  A large Medusa stared at him from the center of the mosaic as if it read David’s thoughts. He fought the urge to shake his fist at it. He knew it was supposed to ward off evil spirits. Several Romans had them in their homes, including their close friend, Manius, who had a similar mosaic removed once he became a follower of Yahshua. Some said the gods would curse him for it and make him suffer within the week, but nothing happened.

  Instead, it seemed like the curse fell on David’s family. Forced to live in the poorest neighborhood in Rome. The Subura Valley. They hadn’t been there long before his parents were taken away.

  Titus motioned the new slaves through the vestibule, opening and closing doors on one side, revealing a large vegetable garden. Dark-blue and white tiles dotted the cemented floor, surrounding the mosaic. The walls were shaped into columns at every corner and bowed upward, meeting in the center of the ceiling, where a single column came down to the floor. The walls displayed life-size mosaics of battle scenes between well-known gladiators, depicting their triumphs and their defeats. David ran his quivering fingers along the graphic details of each intimidating picture.

  Gladiators. The worst of sinners. They murdered people and called it a game. Despite the wickedness, something intrigued him about the sport.

  A door to the left of the vestibule opened to a grand courtyard where trees, neatly trimmed bushes, flowers, and statues lined well-groomed paths—a perfect place to run away and hide. On the other side was the entrance to the house. Instead of going in, they walked to the left along a portico. David slowed as the courtyard disappeared and reappeared behind the arched pillars running along the porch. They finally entered the house to the right through a small door and proceeded down a narrow corridor.

  “Hmm, it smells good in here.” Titus peered into the kitchen to his left, with David close behind him.

  A round woman stood over a masonry stove as pots steamed in front of her. Bronze pans, ladles, and other kitchen utensils hung on the wall.

  “And you’re not getting any.” She smiled and waved a spoon at Titus, her face red from the heat.

  Smoke from a lamb roasting on the gridiron found its way through the window above the stove. David breathed in the savory aroma. It put an ache in his heart. A vivid reminder of the succulent meat the church and his mother on occasion served to him and his father. His mouth watered; he could almost taste the meat.

  He also noticed a latrina next to the stove, located in the same place as in the house on the Palatine. He wondered if he would be vomiting there in the morning.

  The woman winked at him before he turned to follow Titus.

  “Oh, I’ll get some,” Titus said. “You can be sure of that. Don’t worry, boy, you’ll get some too.” Titus chuckled, the low rumble carrying off the walls.

  David’s stomach growled, despite the knot in its center that wouldn’t go away.

  They entered the atrium. The immense, rectangular-shaped room with its vaulted ceiling made him feel small. Blue diamond-shaped tiles sprinkled over the white floor and columns towered to the ceiling at every corner.

  Titus ordered the new slaves to stand in the center of the atrium next to the impluvium. David ran his hand along the smooth edge of the large marble fountain that collected rainwater from an opening in the roof. He’d heard of people living in villas, but to actually see this massive house made him miss his dingy but cozy little home.

  His gaze darted around the room. Intricate designs of red, blue, and gold adorned the walls and ceiling. Artwork wound over the chamber doors on the north and south sides of the atrium. Murals of opened windows bordered the pillars, depicting rich landscapes, much like the vineyards he had just seen.

  A man with blond hair combed fashionably forward and meeting the wrinkles near his eyes entered the atrium with an authoritative air.

  Titus ordered the slaves to stand in a row.

  Evidently, this was Aloysius. David’s eyes never left his new master. So, this was the man who owned two homes and the magnificent vineyards. He stood at an average height, and for an old man, hadn’t yet lost his healthy physique.

  David was conscious of his bandaged chest, and the cut on his cheek itched. It took all he had to keep from scratching. He swallowed hard and stood tall. It was important to make a good impression. Earning his freedom was his new goal—or escaping. Whichever came first
.

  Aloysius looked David up and down and circled him. “What did you buy this one for?” His master’s clean-shaven face emphasized his straight nose, and he reeked of cologne.

  “We need a boy of his stature. He will be a sparring partner for Marcus and Lucius,” Titus said.

  “There weren’t any in better condition?”

  David’s heart pounded, and his hands grew clammy.

  “No, Master,” Titus said.

  Aloysius rubbed his chin, looking David over again. “If he grows into those hands and feet, he’s sure to be tall.” He studied his face. “Nice. Well proportioned.” He nodded and pursed his lips. “The boy has potential.” He waved his hand, showing off his elegant rings. “Give him to Cornelia for now. He can do light work for her until he’s strong.” Aloysius’s toga fell in crisp folds as he continued down the line of slaves, observing, scrutinizing, and making comments.

  David exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath. He didn’t want to be a slave, but he also didn’t want to know what would happen if Aloysius had rejected him.

  The tension eased from his jaw, and he looked straight ahead.

  A little girl with a slightly upturned nose peeked out from behind a nearby column, bringing to mind the way Sarah would peer out from behind Mamma’s skirt. Only, instead of blonde hair, dark curls bounced around rosy cheeks and fell freely over her shoulders. She clasped the ends of a sheer linen sash that draped around the waist of her white stola. Her huge, brown eyes peered at him from under thick lashes.

  He didn’t dare blink, fearing she might disappear.

  three

  Alethea stared at the rugged-looking boy. His windblown hair fell in wisps over his brow. A gold earring emphasized his square jaw, and a gold armband clasped above his left elbow marked him as one of Grandfather’s slaves. A fresh scar traveled under his eye along his cheekbone, and his chest was wrapped in bandages above the beige tunic looped at his waist. Her gaze wandered back to his captivating face. Ice-blue eyes met hers. She gasped and ducked behind the column.

  After the slaves were led away, and she was safe from being seen by Grandfather, she crept into the tablinum. She slipped through the heavy crimson curtain and into the small room between the atrium and the indoor courtyard.

  She held her breath when she saw Grandmother and Aunt Fabia kneeling before the shrine. Usually they prayed in the morning.

  “What are you doing here?” The mounds of white curly hair perched on top of Grandmother’s head reminded Alethea of the sliced boiled eggs she’d refused to eat the night before. “You should be in your lessons.”

  “Decimus told me to leave.” Alethea looked down. She left out the “because I wasn’t paying attention” part. Before Grandmother could respond, she slipped through the curtain on the other side of the tablinum and entered the peristyle.

  Flowers filled the indoor courtyard with a sweet fragrance. Alethea especially liked the jasmine and breathed in its scent. She wandered between the plants and marble statues, following the patterns of flowers in the colorful mosaic on the floor. Uncle Servius leaned against one of the high tables. She stopped in mid-stride and her legs couldn’t move.

  Slowly he turned as he set down his drink, his red nose standing out more than ever. Why was his nose always so red, almost matching the red tint of his hair? He let out a playful growl. Relieved, she scurried away, but he caught her around the waist.

  “What are you doing here, Aucella? Shouldn’t you be in your lessons?” He tickled her before she could answer.

  Laughter and giggles exploded from her even though she didn’t want to be happy, but the tickling made not laughing impossible.

  He finally set her down, wobbling to one side and giving her one last poke.

  Just to please him, she forced a grin, all the while trying to swallow the lump that filled her throat. Her mpampas, her precious daddy, used to tickle her like this. To her dismay, tears welled in her eyes. She quickly swiped them away.

  Uncle Servius knelt down. He touched the tip of her nose and grinned.

  Thankfully, he wouldn’t scold her.

  He cocked his head, and a broad smile formed on his thin face. He yanked his red hair so that it stood on end. His hazel eyes bulged like those of a wild beast and he hopped on all fours, making funny noises and faces until the corners of her mouth tugged into a smile.

  “Cheer up! Cheer up!” he said, between hops. His lanky arms and legs made his gestures silly. He chased her around the courtyard until she burst out laughing. He made funny faces as he leaped over small statues and greenery. After another leap, he banged into a column, and quickly hugged his arms and legs around it.

  She froze. “Are you hurt?” Her feet found movement and she ran to him.

  He faced her with crossed eyes and crooked lips.

  Relief poured over her and she laughed.

  He remained in his silly position, making different faces all the while.

  Laughter and giggles took over until her stomach hurt.

  The schoolmaster, Decimus, came out of the lesson chamber, catching Uncle Servius in his loony pose. His eyes fell on Alethea, then again on Uncle Servius, clearly annoyed to see she wasn’t being punished for being dismissed from her lessons. He gave her a look that told her he’d take care of her punishment himself for her lack of discipline.

  Alethea stepped back, wishing she could hide behind a plant, but they were too far away.

  Uncle Servius spotted Decimus. He jumped to his feet and stood erect, straightening his tunic. His hair, still sticking up, made his long form look even taller. He put on an air of elegance for the teacher.

  Alethea covered her mouth, stifling another giggle.

  Decimus politely nodded to Uncle Servius. “Would you please keep down the noise? The other children are studying.” He looked pointedly again at Alethea, then turned and left the room.

  Alethea ran into her uncle’s arms. “You are so silly!” She kissed his cheek. He was the only one who had shown her any care or concern these last four weeks.

  He smiled down at her, his hazel eyes shining.

  He was a fun uncle, but in the back of her mind, she wondered if he would ever hurt her if she displeased him. Her misery came flooding back.

  “I miss my old schoolmaster.” Really, she missed anything that was from home, but most of all she missed her mpampas. She wrapped her arms around her uncle’s neck and rested her head on his bony shoulder. “I want to go home.”

  He held her close and caressed her head. “I know, Aucella.” He then held her away and smiled. “I have an idea. Why don’t you see if the cook has something yummy for you?” He set her down and took her by the hand. “Come, we’ll go together.”

  She bit her lower lip, thinking of what Grandmother or Mamma would expect. “Shouldn’t I go alone or send one of the slaves to bring something to me?”

  “Aaahhh, yes, that would be the proper thing to do, wouldn’t it?” Uncle Servius lifted his nose and pinky in the air. “But I wish to care for Aucella myself. Without the right kind of care, we may never hear our little bird sing again.” He winked.

  She forced a smile. She doubted anybody or anything could ever make her sing again.

  When she looked up at him, he squeezed her hand and crossed his eyes.

  She giggled.

  With hair still standing on end, he gallantly escorted her to the most inferior side of the house, the kitchen.

  Later, Alethea wandered outside, carrying a bowl of grapes. She found the boy she’d seen in the atrium, standing alone on the east porch. He held his head high and stood with a confident air. She walked up to him, staring at his bandages and scar. Dare she speak to him? Of course, she could speak to him. He was just a slave after all. But something about him made her unsure. Unsure of her superiority as his mistress. He was different from the other slaves. Still, her curiosity was greater than her fear.

  “What happened to you?” she dared ask.

  The boy leane
d against one of the pillars with his arms crossed, gazing toward the south side of the estate.

  She turned to see what he might be looking at. From this distance, she could see over the wall to the golden fields and the road that led to Rome. Seeing nothing of interest, she turned back to him. “How did you get that cut on your face?”

  He glanced down at her from the corner of his eye, shifted his stance, but didn’t answer.

  “What are those bandages for?” She examined his chest and smirked at the sight of his belly button below the tight strips of cloth. Smiling, she looked up at his face.

  He frowned.

  Determined to make him happy, she held the bowl of grapes up to him.

  He shook his head and looked away.

  Shrugging, she took a grape and bit into its top. She sucked on its juice until the entire grape imploded into her mouth. “Are you going to be my mamma’s slave?” she asked, still chewing.

  The boy dropped his hands. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

  Swallowing the grape, pip and all, she shivered and hugged the bowl to her chest.

  He crossed his arms again and leaned back against the pillar.

  She thought to remind him that he was a slave and had no right to snap at her like that, but she had the distinct feeling she’d better not put him in his place.

  While biting into another grape, she noticed him glancing down at her. He no longer appeared irritated. She even thought he might smile, but his lips never moved. She took courage and with a sideways glance, surveyed him from his feet to the top of his head. A red mark circled his left ankle, and his legs were long. Taking in his height, she became caught up in his face and his blue eyes as they traced the road that led to Rome.

  Under normal circumstances, she would have been too frightened to talk to an older boy, even if he was a slave. But his eyes were like Mpampas’s eyes, and her mpampas was a nice man, so this boy must be nice too.

  She wondered about his family. Obviously, her grandfather hadn’t purchased his parents. “Where are your mommy and daddy?”