by Kyle Onstott
The Bassianus Palace,
Emesa
Alexianus
“Mother says I must make up with Varius and be friendly with him. How I hate him, but I’ll make up with him. I’ll flatter him and pretend that I like him but one thing I will not do. I’ll not let him come to my bed at night. No! I hope he doesn’t try it tonight, but he won’t. He has a soldier to slobber over and he’ll stay away from me. I’ll keep him away even if I have to rub cow dung on myself. He’d hate that. He hates stinks. If he comes sniffing around me and smells that, he’ll jump away like a burned cat.
“I wonder if Apol fed my hawks tonight. I told him not to because we are going to use them tomorrow. I want to go to the bend in the river where the reeds grow tall. There should be some wild ducks there and if the hawk cannot get them, we’ll use arrows. Mama said I could have a new horse when Varius becomes High Priest. I want a white horse, an Arabian. If Varius can have a crown of gold because he’s High Priest, I imagine I can have a new horse. And I want a real bow like the Scythian archers have. I’d ask Comazon to get me one, but he’s Varius’s man and be wouldn’t do anything for me. It makes me so angry! Aunt Soaemias has all the new robes and the beautiful jewels and mama has nothing. Varius has everything he wants and I’m treated little better than a slave. But mama says the time will come when I shall have all Rome at my feet. But first, I must be friends with Varius.
“I wish I could have known my cousin Caracalla. They say he was a real soldier. Apol said that he was one of the strongest men in the army. He could lift a chariot. Varius wants to learn to drive a chariot. It’s only because he wants to bang around with the charioteers. I’d like to learn to drive a chariot too. Varius and I could have a race and I’d beat him. I don’t suppose I’ll ever have a chance to learn to drive. Varius always gets everything he wants. But, mama has promised me the new horse. I’ll get a new horse and Varius will get a chariot with four and all of them better than the one I get.
“Sometimes I wish I could be a slave like Apol. He has all the luck. Wonder if what he told me about the slave girl is true. He says she is the one who has charge of the linen press in grandmother’s apartments. She’s only fifteen but Apol says she knows how to do it and loves it. He says he meets her every night on her way back from supper in the kitchen. They go to the toolhouse at the far end of the garden and Apol gives it to her there. He says he’ll arrange it for me some night but I’ve asked him and asked him and asked him and he always has some excuse! She’s busy or she can’t get away or she is at a particular time of month. I think he’s just boasting. I’ll seek her out myself, push her up against the wall and put it in her hand and we’ll see if Apol is lying as I’m sure he is.
“Oh, I’m so sleepy. What was I thinking about? Apol! He’s always bragging just because he’s older than me and because he’s had a woman and I haven’t. Wonder what it is like. Apol says it’s more fun than what we do down behind the stables. But, if he has a woman so often, why does he always want me to come with him behind the stables? I think he’s lying but I’m going to find out. I’ll put it in her hand. Oh, what difference does it make. Now I don’t care whether I ever see her or not. I’ll go to sleep. Apol is lying. I know he is . . . I know . . . I k-n-o-w . . . .”
Early morning on a street leading to the barracks,
Alexandria, Egypt
Aurelius Zoticus
“A hundred drachmae—a hundred lousy drachmae! That’s all I get for spending the night with that fat, greasy Syrian. After all his sweet words and big promises. Him and his slimy dark skin! I earned that money and now back to the barracks and practice all day. What a life! Because I’m the champion wrestler of the Thirteenth I must practice all day to uphold the honor of the Legion. And . . . because I’m hung like the Colossus of Rhodes, I stud all night to get a little extra money. For what? The money I earn does me no good because I never have a chance to spend it and I don’t know what to spend it on.
The stingy bastard didn’t know I paid myself while he wasn’t looking. If this chain is gold and if the jewel on the pendant is real it should fetch at least 500 drachmae so perhaps the evening was not entirely wasted. I should have held him up for more. One arm round his fat neck and he would have shelled out all his drachmae for fear of being choked to death. They always promise so much at night and then in the morning they cannot get rid of me fast enough. Here, son, take this little bag of money and get out, and before you’ve a chance to count it, you’re out in the street, and when you open the bag, you find a hundred lousy drachmae. I did better than that when I was a child back in Smyrna. Remember the night the old Arab gave me five perals. But I was only a kid then and I didn’t know all the tricks of the trade. Now, by Isis, there’s not much I don’t know. I can satisfy them all—men and women. I know at that first gasp, when I take off my clothes they are going to be satisfied. Oh! Zoticus, darling! Oh shit! How they all gurgle and gasp and pant for those extra few inches.
“Tonight it’s my regular night with young Aperankhu the Egyptian Prince. He’s decent. Lets me sleep after the first round and always pays me well. Besides, he’s young and clean and nice to look at—soft skin, not like that old crocodile of last night. What was it the old bastard said had happened in Antioch. Caracalla is dead—had his throat slit by a soldier. Well, it’s no skin off my ass. Caracalla never did anything for me. They say he wanted to be a soldier. Imagine an Emperor of Rome wanting to be a soldier. And now old pussy cat, Macrinus, is going to be Caesar and the first thing he’ll do is to cut the army’s pay. Who cares? If I had to live on a legionary’s pay, I’d starve to death but fortunately Isis was good to me and gave me those extra few inches and a way to make a living. I wonder if it is the biggest in the world. Everyone says so. Even the Tribune called me over to him the time my breech clout fell off and wanted to finger it to see if it was true.
“What else did that old crocodile say? They don’t think Macrinus will be Emperor long—some bastard son of Caracalla’s who lives in Emesa will take the throne. The Syrian said he had seen him and he is the most beautiful boy alive. Sleeps with a different soldier from the Emesa Legion every night. Just my luck to be stationed here in Alexandria. Now, if I had been stationed in Emesa and that boy had slept with me, he’d forget all about the other soldiers and I’d have a steady job at the palace. By Isis! If I was husband to Caesar I’d be Caesar myself. Live in the palace, slaves to wait on me, fine clothes to wear. Hey, there! Off with his head! I’m Caesar’s husband. To the cross with that senator. He stepped on my toe in the baths. String him up! What’s a senator compared to the Emperor’s husband?
“How can I get transferred to the Legion in Emesa? Got to think about it. Who do I know? Aperankhu? No, he’s nothing but a little prince with no influence. The old Syrian from Antioch? No, he’s already missed his gold chain and I dare not return to him. If I could just get my hands on that boy in Emesa—just once. Just once for just one night! I’d have him so completely in my power he’d do anything I wanted. Isis, help me! Don’t let these days of my youth pass without my accomplishing something. You were generous in your gift to me—almost too generous. Now let me make something out of it. The gold chain from the old crocodile to your temple if you will help me get to Emesa.
“What, sentry? Yes, I’m Aurelius Zoticus, the wrestler of the Legion. Publius Aemilianus? Why does the Tribune wish to see me. I’m not absent without leave. Not due to muster for another hour! Very well, I’ll report to him at once. Up yours, boy! But you couldn’t take it. You’d be split in two. Oh no? You’d like to try it some time. Ah, sweetheart, it would cost you more for an hour than you make in a whole year in this lousy army. I don’t give it away for charity. For love? Soldier, what’s that? Take my advice, don’t do it for love.
“I’m off to see the Tribune. Perhaps he thinks he’s going to get a free night. But no, he’s not that way. Maybe his wife has heard about me and wants a little sample. That would be all right too. It might get me to Emesa.
<
br /> “Aurelius Zoticus, 10th Cohort, Thirteenth Legion, reporting on order of the Tribune, Publius Aemilianus. Yes, my lord. A transfer from Alexandria? To the Legion at Emesa! Yes, my lord Tribune, I can be ready in half an hour. My Lord, a tiny favor? May I have permission to stop a moment at the Temple of Isis as we leave the City. Thank you, my Lord.
“Oh, Mother Isis, you work fast.”
The slave barracks of the Green Charioteers,
Rome
Hierocles
“Mama, Mama, Mama! Oh Mama, what am I going to do now? I’m here in this strange place with all these other men snoring around me. I want you, Mama. Why did old Marcus Salvius have to die and why did we have to be sold? Why couldn’t we have been bought together? Why did we have to be slaves? Oh, Mama, my heart was breaking when they led you down from the block. I hope that old man from Neapolis will be good to you. I didn’t even have a chance to kiss you as you passed me—you stepping down from the block, I stepping up. In a way it was easier for me for you were not there to see me sold. There were not too many bidders. I don’t suppose anyone wants a boy of eighteen even if he has curly hair. I’m too old to be a minion and too young to be a worker even if I have good muscles.
“An old man starting bidding on me. He looked like a farmer from some such place as Pannonia in his rough brown tunic and his leather leggings. But he didn’t bid very long and I was glad when he stopped. Then the agent for the Florus Estate started bidding against the manager of the Greens. For a while I didn’t know whether I’d be herding goats in the Campania or driving a chariot in the Circus Maximus but the Greens won and now I’ll be driving the chariot. Well, it’s better than washing dishes in some kitchen.
“They tell me I start training tomorrow. Takes about three months, the man told me. I don’t know his name and I don’t know anyone here and oh, Mama, I’m so homesick and so lonely. Why can’t we be back in the villa again, with you heating some warm milk for old Marcus Salvius. After we had put him to bed, we always had such good times together, playing draughts, reading and talking about the day when I became a man and how I would earn my freedom and yours. And Fabiola? I don’t suppose I shall ever have a chance to know another girl. I wonder where she was sold? She came after me.
“Oh, Mama, I can’t go to sleep for thinking about you and Fabiola and the doves and the rabbits and all the good times we used to have at the villa. The men here are rough but one of them was kind to me tonight. He showed me an empty cot beside his own and got a blanket for me. He’s a young fellow too. Only been here a month so he has not driven yet in public. I don’t know his name but he’s snoring away as if he didn’t have a care in the world. You always used to come and pull the blankets up around my neck and kiss me good night and say ‘Hierocles, some day we shall be free.’
“Maybe I’ll be a great charioteer, the leader of the Greens and I’ll make so much money on wagers that I’ll be able to buy myself and then I’ll come to Neapolis and buy you. I’ll have to work hard because I must be the best—the best charioteer in Rome. ‘Live good, my son,’ you always said ‘and good will come to you.’ I’ll try, Mama, I’ll try but oh, I miss you so much tonight. It wasn’t so bad in the slave pens where I could see you and Fabiola every day but now, I feel I shall never see either of you again.
“Why are some of us slaves and others rich and prosperous? I know, I know what you would say. Even the rich ones are not always happy. Look at Caracalla. He was Caesar and he was killed, so they were saying in the barracks tonight. Even being Emperor did not help him.
“I must go to sleep. We get up early here they tell me. Some day I shall be free, Mama. Some day I shall buy your freedom. Oh, I need you tonight. I need someone to love me. Someone. Goodnight, Mama. Goodnight, Fabiola. Goodnight poor little doves and rabbits at the villa. I wonder who is feeding you now. Good night.”
7
Varius paused, his bead thrown back, his hands drawing airy circles and his eyelids fluttering. He posed for a moment in the doorway of his bedroom, determined if possible to make a grand entrance. He had stolen into his mother’s wardrobe and filched one of her gowns, together with the jewels of his choice. Soaemias’s long Persian robe of pale green silk came only to his ankles for Varius was tall for his age but the breeze that swept through the doorway plastered the thin silk to his skin and molded his young body provocatively. He wore a diadem of emeralds and pearls and had contrived to fasten Soaemias’s earrings to his own ears by thin cords. An intricate necklace of gold and Egyptian turquoise encircled his neck and his fingers were heavy with gems. Dark lines of antimony enhanced the beauty of his eyes and his lips were encarmined with cochineal. As he stood languorously in the doorway he surveyed the room, then relaxed the grandeur of his pose with impatient disgust as he saw that Gannys was the room’s sole occupant.
“What does this mean? Are you alone?” Varius was annoyed and angry. The careful preparations were entirely wasted on Gannys.
“Alone? Why yes, Varius.”
“But my guard? Where is he? Didn’t Comazon send anyone tonight?”
“No, not tonight.”
“Then go at once to the slave quarters. Fetch me the young slave who bathed with me only the other day. What is his name? No, stop! I do not wish him tonight. I wish someone new and different, someone who does not know me and has never seen me before. Tonight I would be a real woman, soft and feminine, seductive and mysterious. Tonight I desire to be wooed tenderly and lovingly. Send to Comazon! Have a messenger start at once and say that Varius demands a guard tonight—one who has not been here before; Up, lazy Gannys and sit not there with that silly smirk on your face. Tonight I must know exactly how a man makes love to a woman.”
Gannys did not stir. He crossed his legs leisurely and fanned himself with his handkerchief.
“You might as well take off your mother’s dress, Varius, although I shall tell you in passing that it becomes you well. Indeed you are beautiful in it. Any man would fall madly in love with you.”
Varius tripped into the room, smoothing the folds of the silk with delicate fingers.
“Do you really think so, Gannys? But why, if I am so very beautiful, must I take off the dress. I went to a lot of trouble to get it. It’s new and Mother has never worn it.” He paraded the length of the room, stopping before the silver mirror to admire himself. “Oh, you hateful Gannys! You’re trying to spoil my pleasure. You know how I hate to be disappointed and I had planned so much on this evening. Comazon had said something about a Nubian even handsomer than mother’s Gigex, whom she will not share with me. Tonight I had planned to be mother and the Nubian would be Gigex. Oh, you are mean, Gannys and I’ve a mind to whip you. No, that would give you too much pleasure. Tomorrow I’ll send you to the public whips. I will, I will, I will! And I’ll go along to see you squirm. It won’t be any make-believe whipping like I give you. I’ll have him put a pattern of criss-cross welts on your back that we can play games on.”
“Oh, stop talking silliness! You know you wouldn’t send me to the whips. What would you do without me? No, Varius, neither Nubian, slave nor soldier for you tonight or for some nights to come. Instead there is a message from Zenotabalus.”
“That tiresome old man! What does he want and why should he deprive me of my pleasure? When I become High Priest I’m going to banish him to some little temple where he’ll have to do the rites alone. Does he forget that I am Caracalla’s son now? Mother says that I shall soon be Emperor of Rome. Caesar! Does he know that?”
“He does, Varius,” Gannys was patient, “but before you become Emperor of Rome, you must become High Priest of Elah-ga-baal. That is expedient. ’Twill win you favor in the East. As Emperor, you’ll be Pontifex Maximus of Rome but you’ll be a Priest of the Sun too.”
“Well, what does the old ninny want?”
“We did not tell you this, Varius, for fear you would be frightened but tonight you are to appear at the temple for a very special ceremony. It will not be a pleasant one. It w
ill be very painful and you will suffer.”
“Then I shall not go. Who would dare to make me suffer?”
“You are a man now. You must become one, and according to the rites of your God you must sacrifice your foreskin this night. The astrologers have set this as a propitious time. The sacrifice will be welcome to Elah-ga-baal.” Gannys stood up, walked across the floor to where Varius was primping in front of the mirror and laid his hand on the boy’s bare shoulder. “I fear the pain for you, dear Varius, but it is not too bad. It only lasts a moment and then they put a healing balm on that takes the pain away. It is done with a sharp knife, quickly, in one quick slash, so do not be afraid.”
