Fic: Salus (part 1 of ?)
So.............. here goes. Who knows where this fic will lead but at least I've made a start. For now, it's going to stay posted right here in my journal because I'm not convinced that it isn't a load of old tosh which doesn't warrant posting somewhere people might read it!!!!!! :)
Part One - Uncle Aquila
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unable to concentrate on the scroll he’d been reading, Aquila tossed it onto the pile of other documents on his desk and sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. The problem of what to do with his nephew had been preying on his mind ever since Marcus had arrived at the villa desperately ill, broken and feverish but since his honourable discharge the boy’s mood had grown worryingly desolate and Aquila feared for him anew. He had tried leaving Marcus to his own devices to see if he would eventually pull himself out of the fog of despair that surrounded him but it was obvious that the time had now come for action. If Marcus could not or would not attempt to regain some purpose in the life that the Gods had seen fit to spare him for then perhaps it was up to Aquila to guide him. He drummed his fingertips on the desk for a moment and then called for Stephanos.
Almost immediately the old Greek shuffled into the tablinum. “Yes master?” he asked with his usual breezy eagerness, his worn old face displaying its usual happy smile.
“Has my nephew risen yet?” Aquila stood and attempted to restore some order to the heap of scrolls. “I wish to speak with him.”
“The young master is still abed. It is a fine day and I have tried to coax him up but without success.”
“Hmm.” Aquila scratched absent-mindedly at his beard. “Something must be done about this or I fear he will slip further away from us. It is only by the will of the Gods that he lived long enough to reach here and I cannot continue to stand by and watch him waste away now because the future he hoped for is lost to him.”
“Perhaps a potion could aid his mood, master.”
“Enough of your potions man!” Aquila chuckled and smiled warmly. Stephanos was a caring old soul and Aquila knew he was already quite fond of Marcus, running around after him as best he could at his age. “The prospect of more of your sinking potions would be enough to push the strongest of men to seek solace in the afterlife.”
Stephanos grinned widely, showing a mouthful of stained and crooked teeth. “The young master needs distractions.”
“No doubt you are right. He’s a young man stuck here surrounded by old relics like you and I and so I think I shall encourage him to spread his wings. Go and assist him to dress and tell him I will be waiting for him in the atrium.”
“Yes master.” Stephanos bowed his head and shuffled out again.
Aquila looked down at the mess atop his desk and decided to leave the scrolls for one of the slaves to tidy up then, after he had paid a visit to the shrine of the household gods and asked for their favour and guidance, he made his way to the atrium.
In time he was roused from his musings by his nephew limping in to join him with his crutch under one arm and Stephanos, heaving and puffing with the strain, under the other.
“Marcus, my boy! How are you today?”
“I am well uncle. I apologise for rising so late.”
“Not to worry, not to worry. Come and sit with me.” Aquila watched as Marcus sat down with some difficulty, noting that the dark circles under his eyes looked even more pronounced than usual. Still not sleeping then. Stephanos poured them both some watered wine and shuffled off.
“Have you any plans for today?” Aquila asked, taking a long drink.
Marcus shook his head, eyes cast down at floor. “No,” he mumbled. “Nothing.”
“It won’t do you any good spending day after day holed up here,” Aquila said, trying hard to keep his tone mild. Marcus was a proud man, a decorated soldier and he didn’t need scorn any more than he needed pity.
“I am not much good for anything,” Marcus stated bitterly. “What would you have me do? Read? Play endless games of latrunculi? I am somewhat tired of reading and playing games.”
“I understand how you must feel.”
“Do you?” Marcus looked up at him, eyes blazing, his face drawn tight with the sudden flash of anger but it didn’t last. As quickly as it had risen, the anger died away and Marcus looked nothing but sad, exhausted and annoyed with his sudden loss of temper.
Aquila reached out and laid a hand on his forearm, a gesture he hoped would be recognised for the genuine concern that it was. “You are not the first man to be disappointed by fate but I do wish that you would talk to me and share your thoughts.”
Marcus laughed, a hollow laugh that held nothing but contempt for himself. “What hopes do you think I have?” he said sadly. “I am nothing but a burden to you and another blot on the family name.”
“You are no burden and you have brought more glory to our name than any other in recent memory.” Realising that his words might sound to Marcus like a rebuke against his father, he quickly carried on. “You are still young. You have your whole life ahead of you and it cannot be spent fading away to nothing with your old uncle for company.” Aquila sipped at his wine and concluded that this was the right moment to strike. “I have decided that an outing into Calleva is in order.”
“An outing?” Marcus shifted in his seat as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. “I have no wish to go anywhere or see anybody socially, uncle.”
“Nonsense. How long have you been here now? You’ve hardly even ventured outside and you’ve made excuses whenever visitors come to call. People are interested to know about you, son. You’re quite the hero.”
Marcus bowed his head. “I am no hero.”
“Don’t be so modest. We shall hire a litter and venture into the town, see what’s afoot in the forum.”
“A litter?” Marcus was aghast. “If I must go then I would rather walk, or perhaps ride.”
Aquila stared at his cup and hoped this wasn’t going to end in an argument. He detested arguments. “It would be too much for you.”
“So I am to be carried around like a feeble matron for all to see?”
“The litter is only for you to reach the town and be borne home again. A short walk around the forum will be good for you and do not fear, we shall make frequent stops for you to rest.” The old man couldn’t miss the look on Marcus’ face which told him that he may indeed be in for a long-winded argument. It was time to exert his authority. “The matter is not up for discussion. It is time that you ventured outside the villa, as a reminder that there is a world beyond these walls as much as anything else.”
“Uncle, I…”
Aquila raised his hand to stop any more dispute. “No arguments.” As much as he didn’t want to appear irritated with the boy and add to his feelings of helplessness and burden, he had to be firm in this. “I have made up my mind and I am still head of this household.”
Marcus shook his head and huffed out a heavy sigh but said nothing more.
~~~
The following day was cool but bright and dry, perfect for an outing. The villa was situated by the shores of a large lake not far from the outer edge of Calleva and so it did not take long for the little procession to reach their destination. Marcus was quiet, possibly sulking but Aquila was pleased that they had at least managed to venture out without any cross words passing between them. The litter stopped near to the centre of the town and with one of the litter-bearers following in case his assistance was required, they walked slowly down the narrow road towards the small forum.
The forum was already bustling with crowded market stalls, townspeople and slaves running errands. As they walked, Aquila smiled and nodded his head at people he knew, stopping to introduce Marcus to some of his acquaintances but careful not to linger too long in case Marcus’ leg should give out. It pleased him greatly to see Marcus coming out of his shell a little, chatting politely and doing his best to look interested when Aquila made and received several promises of visits and dinners. They strolled around the market, stopping occasionally to allow Marcus to rest and the old man allowed himself a feeling of pride that his idea of a visit to the town had been a success, despite Marcus’ doubts.
As he picked up a small russet-coloured apple from a stall and breathed in the sweet, fresh scent of the skin, Aquila agreed with himself that Stephanos had been right. The lad needed distractions but he had probably been distracted enough for today as he was beginning to look strained and tired, his mouth pulled tight with the effort of pretending that his leg was causing less pain than it actually was. “I think we have seen everything there is to see for today Marcus and I thank you for indulging a meddling old man by agreeing to accompany me.”
Marcus gave him a weak smile. “It is I who should be thanking you uncle. I admit I have been feeling very sorry for myself and you are right, it is time for me to give thought to my future.” He stumbled a little over an uneven paving stone but was ably supported by his stout crutch and the surprisingly agile litter-bearer. “You can be assured of my gratitude for your care and hospitality.”
“There’s no need for gratitude, my boy.” Aquila clapped Marcus heartily on the shoulder, inadvertently causing him to stumble once more. “You are family. Where else would you have gone?”
They slowly made their way back towards the street where the litter awaited their return but before they had reached the far side of the forum they were forced to wait while a slave trader and two guards led a line of shackled slaves past, no doubt on their way to the town’s small amphitheatre.
As he trudged past the slave at the end of the line, a Briton with the inked markings of one of the tribes snaking around his right arm, looked up and something seemed to catch his eye. Aquila turned to see what he was looking at and realised that it was Marcus, who was himself staring back at the slave. The two young men continued staring at each other as the line of wretched creatures passed by until a sudden cry diverted Aquila’s attention.
One of the other slaves, nothing more than a child, had stumbled and fallen, earning himself an instant and relentless beating from the slave trader. Unnecessary, Aquila thought, his distaste for such blatant mistreatment of slaves making him shake his head and tut loudly. “No need for that,” he muttered, turning to Marcus as he continued to stroll onwards.
His nephew had remained standing however. The slave he had been staring at had rather foolishly gone to the aid of the fallen boy, trying to shield him from the trader’s blows but undeterred, the brute kept thrashing at them both. Blows rained down on them and Aquila considered raising an objection when the Briton turned towards the trader and in his fury lunged at the man, striking him.
The fallen boy suddenly forgotten, the trader drew his sword and turned his full attention to other slave, now unchained from the others and forced to his knees, restrained by the two guards who were both twice his size in height and girth. The lad struggled against the guards but regarded the trader with eyes full of boldness and fire, his chin tilted up defiantly as he faced what seemed like certain death, the point of the sword already poised at the base of his throat and drawing a thin trickle of blood. He almost seemed to be offering himself up for slaughter and Aquila was about to look away when to his surprise Marcus suddenly raised his voice and shuffled forward. “Leave him!” he shouted. “That’s an order!”
“I’ll do what I like with him” said the trader, lowering his sword but aiming a particularly vicious kick at his disobedient property. “It’s no business of yours.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” Marcus stood as tall as he could and Aquila could see the faint trembling as every muscle in his body strained to maintain the posture. In that instant he saw the centurion that his nephew had been. “I told you to leave him and you will do as I say.”
The slave trader hesitated for a moment, his mind desperately trying to decide whether he should stand his ground or back down. Aquila had seen his kind before, a coward who treated those lower than himself with cruelty and disdain. All these people understood was the universal language of money.
The man opened and shut his mouth several times as if unsure what to say before spluttering, “I have a right to punish him for his behaviour.”
“If you so much as lay another finger on him you will sorely regret it.”
Marcus was now even paler than usual and looked as if he was about to faint but for the first time since he was brought to the villa, he had shown interest in something and Aquila had no intention of missing such an opportunity.
“Marcus, Marcus,” he said quietly in what he hoped was a soothing but firm tone, “I’ll deal with this. Go back to the litter and wait for me.”
“Uncle, I have some money…”
Aquila nodded to show that he understood the situation. “Go on now. Leave this to me.” He indicated to the litter-bearer to help Marcus on his way then turned back to regard the slave trader with his haughtiest look. “I’ll give you a thousand sesterces for him.”
Whatever the man had been expecting, it obviously wasn’t a proposed sale. He stood dumbstruck for a moment, a look of pure surprise on his greasy face, his fleshy mouth hanging open. “You don’t want this dog, sir,” he said eventually. “If you’re looking for a slave I can show you much better.”
“My nephew has need of a slave of his own and he seems quite taken with this one.”
“But sir, he’s not fit for a household.” The trader turned back to the slave and spat on him. “Being ripped apart by a couple of wolves in the arena would show this one the folly of striking his master and still be a better end than he deserves.”
“One thousand sesterces and not a coin more,” Aquila said, knowing that this was a far greater price than the slave was worth. “I doubt you’ll receive a better price for him and I am in no mood for bartering with you.”
“But as I said sir, I can show you much better specimens.”
Aquila ignored him and indicated for the slave to be raised to his feet. He seemed healthy enough, small but lean and strong and a quick inspection showed him to have all his teeth still. To have called his clothing rags would have been to do a disservice to rags and he was filthy, his sharp, pinched face streaked with grime, an ugly bruise already starting to bloom on his jaw. “Do you speak Latin?”
The slave glared down at his feet before nodding his head.
“Have you ever worked in a Roman household?”
A shake of the head this time but the scowl remained.
“Well, we shall have to hope for the best then. You have a name, I expect?”
The slave mumbled something.
“Speak up.”
“Esca,” he said, raising his eyes to look Aquila straight in the face with the same defiance he’d given the trader. “My name is Esca.”
Aquila allowed himself a small chuckle and ignored the slave’s impertinence. There was a spark in this boy. Marcus was going to have his hands full. “Have him cleaned up. I shall send my agent to take care of payment and one of my household slaves to fetch him after.”
Later that day Stephanos was despatched to bring home the new slave, returning in due course with Esca, still scowling but considerably cleaner than he had been when last seen although with a suspicious number of additional bruises.
Before taking him to Marcus, Aquila made sure that the slave understood his duties. “You will be my nephew’s personal slave. He was a soldier but a grave injury has left him requiring assistance with many tasks while he recovers and you will be expected to ensure he lacks for nothing. You will wait on him, assist him with bathing and dressing and provide anything else he requires. Wherever he goes, you go unless he tells you otherwise and you will obey him.”
The slave kept his eyes lowered and nodded.
“I expect obedience in my household.” Another nod. “My nephew’s reasons for intervening when you displayed such reckless conduct are his own but I will not tolerate similar behaviour in this house. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master.”
Aquila cocked an eyebrow at Esca, hearing only too clearly the thinly-veiled resentment. “As long as you do. Well, come along then.” He led Esca to the atrium and left him in Marcus’ governance, considering but then resisting the temptation to eavesdrop outside the door as master and slave made their acquaintance.
~~~
The reopening of Marcus’ wound soon after was an unexpected setback but necessary if he was to regain any significant use of his leg, that much was clear. The surgeon had assured Aquila that the procedure held no danger for Marcus but he couldn’t help worrying regardless. He’d grown used to his nephew’s presence in the villa and he genuinely liked the boy, finding it difficult to see him facing the prospect of more hardship and pain. Still, Marcus had Esca to look after his needs now and although the Briton had been a member of the household for only a matter of weeks, he seemed capable and respectful albeit grudgingly so. Aquila saw well enough the furtive way that they watched each other, endlessly wary and as unsure of each other as two opposing armies awaiting battle.
The surgeon ensured that Marcus was strapped down to the table and Aquila made his excuses, having already had his fill of gore in his lifetime. As he turned back in the doorway to watch for a moment as the surgeon ordered Esca to hold Marcus down, he saw it again - the way one would look and the other would immediately look away only to look back and cause the first to avert his eyes until finally their gazes held steady.
He wasn’t sure what it was about Esca that had drawn Marcus’ attention that day in the forum but he was seized by the sudden hope that he hadn’t brought too much trouble to his nephew by agreeing to bring the slave into their household.
Part One - Uncle Aquila
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unable to concentrate on the scroll he’d been reading, Aquila tossed it onto the pile of other documents on his desk and sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. The problem of what to do with his nephew had been preying on his mind ever since Marcus had arrived at the villa desperately ill, broken and feverish but since his honourable discharge the boy’s mood had grown worryingly desolate and Aquila feared for him anew. He had tried leaving Marcus to his own devices to see if he would eventually pull himself out of the fog of despair that surrounded him but it was obvious that the time had now come for action. If Marcus could not or would not attempt to regain some purpose in the life that the Gods had seen fit to spare him for then perhaps it was up to Aquila to guide him. He drummed his fingertips on the desk for a moment and then called for Stephanos.
Almost immediately the old Greek shuffled into the tablinum. “Yes master?” he asked with his usual breezy eagerness, his worn old face displaying its usual happy smile.
“Has my nephew risen yet?” Aquila stood and attempted to restore some order to the heap of scrolls. “I wish to speak with him.”
“The young master is still abed. It is a fine day and I have tried to coax him up but without success.”
“Hmm.” Aquila scratched absent-mindedly at his beard. “Something must be done about this or I fear he will slip further away from us. It is only by the will of the Gods that he lived long enough to reach here and I cannot continue to stand by and watch him waste away now because the future he hoped for is lost to him.”
“Perhaps a potion could aid his mood, master.”
“Enough of your potions man!” Aquila chuckled and smiled warmly. Stephanos was a caring old soul and Aquila knew he was already quite fond of Marcus, running around after him as best he could at his age. “The prospect of more of your sinking potions would be enough to push the strongest of men to seek solace in the afterlife.”
Stephanos grinned widely, showing a mouthful of stained and crooked teeth. “The young master needs distractions.”
“No doubt you are right. He’s a young man stuck here surrounded by old relics like you and I and so I think I shall encourage him to spread his wings. Go and assist him to dress and tell him I will be waiting for him in the atrium.”
“Yes master.” Stephanos bowed his head and shuffled out again.
Aquila looked down at the mess atop his desk and decided to leave the scrolls for one of the slaves to tidy up then, after he had paid a visit to the shrine of the household gods and asked for their favour and guidance, he made his way to the atrium.
In time he was roused from his musings by his nephew limping in to join him with his crutch under one arm and Stephanos, heaving and puffing with the strain, under the other.
“Marcus, my boy! How are you today?”
“I am well uncle. I apologise for rising so late.”
“Not to worry, not to worry. Come and sit with me.” Aquila watched as Marcus sat down with some difficulty, noting that the dark circles under his eyes looked even more pronounced than usual. Still not sleeping then. Stephanos poured them both some watered wine and shuffled off.
“Have you any plans for today?” Aquila asked, taking a long drink.
Marcus shook his head, eyes cast down at floor. “No,” he mumbled. “Nothing.”
“It won’t do you any good spending day after day holed up here,” Aquila said, trying hard to keep his tone mild. Marcus was a proud man, a decorated soldier and he didn’t need scorn any more than he needed pity.
“I am not much good for anything,” Marcus stated bitterly. “What would you have me do? Read? Play endless games of latrunculi? I am somewhat tired of reading and playing games.”
“I understand how you must feel.”
“Do you?” Marcus looked up at him, eyes blazing, his face drawn tight with the sudden flash of anger but it didn’t last. As quickly as it had risen, the anger died away and Marcus looked nothing but sad, exhausted and annoyed with his sudden loss of temper.
Aquila reached out and laid a hand on his forearm, a gesture he hoped would be recognised for the genuine concern that it was. “You are not the first man to be disappointed by fate but I do wish that you would talk to me and share your thoughts.”
Marcus laughed, a hollow laugh that held nothing but contempt for himself. “What hopes do you think I have?” he said sadly. “I am nothing but a burden to you and another blot on the family name.”
“You are no burden and you have brought more glory to our name than any other in recent memory.” Realising that his words might sound to Marcus like a rebuke against his father, he quickly carried on. “You are still young. You have your whole life ahead of you and it cannot be spent fading away to nothing with your old uncle for company.” Aquila sipped at his wine and concluded that this was the right moment to strike. “I have decided that an outing into Calleva is in order.”
“An outing?” Marcus shifted in his seat as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. “I have no wish to go anywhere or see anybody socially, uncle.”
“Nonsense. How long have you been here now? You’ve hardly even ventured outside and you’ve made excuses whenever visitors come to call. People are interested to know about you, son. You’re quite the hero.”
Marcus bowed his head. “I am no hero.”
“Don’t be so modest. We shall hire a litter and venture into the town, see what’s afoot in the forum.”
“A litter?” Marcus was aghast. “If I must go then I would rather walk, or perhaps ride.”
Aquila stared at his cup and hoped this wasn’t going to end in an argument. He detested arguments. “It would be too much for you.”
“So I am to be carried around like a feeble matron for all to see?”
“The litter is only for you to reach the town and be borne home again. A short walk around the forum will be good for you and do not fear, we shall make frequent stops for you to rest.” The old man couldn’t miss the look on Marcus’ face which told him that he may indeed be in for a long-winded argument. It was time to exert his authority. “The matter is not up for discussion. It is time that you ventured outside the villa, as a reminder that there is a world beyond these walls as much as anything else.”
“Uncle, I…”
Aquila raised his hand to stop any more dispute. “No arguments.” As much as he didn’t want to appear irritated with the boy and add to his feelings of helplessness and burden, he had to be firm in this. “I have made up my mind and I am still head of this household.”
Marcus shook his head and huffed out a heavy sigh but said nothing more.
~~~
The following day was cool but bright and dry, perfect for an outing. The villa was situated by the shores of a large lake not far from the outer edge of Calleva and so it did not take long for the little procession to reach their destination. Marcus was quiet, possibly sulking but Aquila was pleased that they had at least managed to venture out without any cross words passing between them. The litter stopped near to the centre of the town and with one of the litter-bearers following in case his assistance was required, they walked slowly down the narrow road towards the small forum.
The forum was already bustling with crowded market stalls, townspeople and slaves running errands. As they walked, Aquila smiled and nodded his head at people he knew, stopping to introduce Marcus to some of his acquaintances but careful not to linger too long in case Marcus’ leg should give out. It pleased him greatly to see Marcus coming out of his shell a little, chatting politely and doing his best to look interested when Aquila made and received several promises of visits and dinners. They strolled around the market, stopping occasionally to allow Marcus to rest and the old man allowed himself a feeling of pride that his idea of a visit to the town had been a success, despite Marcus’ doubts.
As he picked up a small russet-coloured apple from a stall and breathed in the sweet, fresh scent of the skin, Aquila agreed with himself that Stephanos had been right. The lad needed distractions but he had probably been distracted enough for today as he was beginning to look strained and tired, his mouth pulled tight with the effort of pretending that his leg was causing less pain than it actually was. “I think we have seen everything there is to see for today Marcus and I thank you for indulging a meddling old man by agreeing to accompany me.”
Marcus gave him a weak smile. “It is I who should be thanking you uncle. I admit I have been feeling very sorry for myself and you are right, it is time for me to give thought to my future.” He stumbled a little over an uneven paving stone but was ably supported by his stout crutch and the surprisingly agile litter-bearer. “You can be assured of my gratitude for your care and hospitality.”
“There’s no need for gratitude, my boy.” Aquila clapped Marcus heartily on the shoulder, inadvertently causing him to stumble once more. “You are family. Where else would you have gone?”
They slowly made their way back towards the street where the litter awaited their return but before they had reached the far side of the forum they were forced to wait while a slave trader and two guards led a line of shackled slaves past, no doubt on their way to the town’s small amphitheatre.
As he trudged past the slave at the end of the line, a Briton with the inked markings of one of the tribes snaking around his right arm, looked up and something seemed to catch his eye. Aquila turned to see what he was looking at and realised that it was Marcus, who was himself staring back at the slave. The two young men continued staring at each other as the line of wretched creatures passed by until a sudden cry diverted Aquila’s attention.
One of the other slaves, nothing more than a child, had stumbled and fallen, earning himself an instant and relentless beating from the slave trader. Unnecessary, Aquila thought, his distaste for such blatant mistreatment of slaves making him shake his head and tut loudly. “No need for that,” he muttered, turning to Marcus as he continued to stroll onwards.
His nephew had remained standing however. The slave he had been staring at had rather foolishly gone to the aid of the fallen boy, trying to shield him from the trader’s blows but undeterred, the brute kept thrashing at them both. Blows rained down on them and Aquila considered raising an objection when the Briton turned towards the trader and in his fury lunged at the man, striking him.
The fallen boy suddenly forgotten, the trader drew his sword and turned his full attention to other slave, now unchained from the others and forced to his knees, restrained by the two guards who were both twice his size in height and girth. The lad struggled against the guards but regarded the trader with eyes full of boldness and fire, his chin tilted up defiantly as he faced what seemed like certain death, the point of the sword already poised at the base of his throat and drawing a thin trickle of blood. He almost seemed to be offering himself up for slaughter and Aquila was about to look away when to his surprise Marcus suddenly raised his voice and shuffled forward. “Leave him!” he shouted. “That’s an order!”
“I’ll do what I like with him” said the trader, lowering his sword but aiming a particularly vicious kick at his disobedient property. “It’s no business of yours.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” Marcus stood as tall as he could and Aquila could see the faint trembling as every muscle in his body strained to maintain the posture. In that instant he saw the centurion that his nephew had been. “I told you to leave him and you will do as I say.”
The slave trader hesitated for a moment, his mind desperately trying to decide whether he should stand his ground or back down. Aquila had seen his kind before, a coward who treated those lower than himself with cruelty and disdain. All these people understood was the universal language of money.
The man opened and shut his mouth several times as if unsure what to say before spluttering, “I have a right to punish him for his behaviour.”
“If you so much as lay another finger on him you will sorely regret it.”
Marcus was now even paler than usual and looked as if he was about to faint but for the first time since he was brought to the villa, he had shown interest in something and Aquila had no intention of missing such an opportunity.
“Marcus, Marcus,” he said quietly in what he hoped was a soothing but firm tone, “I’ll deal with this. Go back to the litter and wait for me.”
“Uncle, I have some money…”
Aquila nodded to show that he understood the situation. “Go on now. Leave this to me.” He indicated to the litter-bearer to help Marcus on his way then turned back to regard the slave trader with his haughtiest look. “I’ll give you a thousand sesterces for him.”
Whatever the man had been expecting, it obviously wasn’t a proposed sale. He stood dumbstruck for a moment, a look of pure surprise on his greasy face, his fleshy mouth hanging open. “You don’t want this dog, sir,” he said eventually. “If you’re looking for a slave I can show you much better.”
“My nephew has need of a slave of his own and he seems quite taken with this one.”
“But sir, he’s not fit for a household.” The trader turned back to the slave and spat on him. “Being ripped apart by a couple of wolves in the arena would show this one the folly of striking his master and still be a better end than he deserves.”
“One thousand sesterces and not a coin more,” Aquila said, knowing that this was a far greater price than the slave was worth. “I doubt you’ll receive a better price for him and I am in no mood for bartering with you.”
“But as I said sir, I can show you much better specimens.”
Aquila ignored him and indicated for the slave to be raised to his feet. He seemed healthy enough, small but lean and strong and a quick inspection showed him to have all his teeth still. To have called his clothing rags would have been to do a disservice to rags and he was filthy, his sharp, pinched face streaked with grime, an ugly bruise already starting to bloom on his jaw. “Do you speak Latin?”
The slave glared down at his feet before nodding his head.
“Have you ever worked in a Roman household?”
A shake of the head this time but the scowl remained.
“Well, we shall have to hope for the best then. You have a name, I expect?”
The slave mumbled something.
“Speak up.”
“Esca,” he said, raising his eyes to look Aquila straight in the face with the same defiance he’d given the trader. “My name is Esca.”
Aquila allowed himself a small chuckle and ignored the slave’s impertinence. There was a spark in this boy. Marcus was going to have his hands full. “Have him cleaned up. I shall send my agent to take care of payment and one of my household slaves to fetch him after.”
Later that day Stephanos was despatched to bring home the new slave, returning in due course with Esca, still scowling but considerably cleaner than he had been when last seen although with a suspicious number of additional bruises.
Before taking him to Marcus, Aquila made sure that the slave understood his duties. “You will be my nephew’s personal slave. He was a soldier but a grave injury has left him requiring assistance with many tasks while he recovers and you will be expected to ensure he lacks for nothing. You will wait on him, assist him with bathing and dressing and provide anything else he requires. Wherever he goes, you go unless he tells you otherwise and you will obey him.”
The slave kept his eyes lowered and nodded.
“I expect obedience in my household.” Another nod. “My nephew’s reasons for intervening when you displayed such reckless conduct are his own but I will not tolerate similar behaviour in this house. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master.”
Aquila cocked an eyebrow at Esca, hearing only too clearly the thinly-veiled resentment. “As long as you do. Well, come along then.” He led Esca to the atrium and left him in Marcus’ governance, considering but then resisting the temptation to eavesdrop outside the door as master and slave made their acquaintance.
~~~
The reopening of Marcus’ wound soon after was an unexpected setback but necessary if he was to regain any significant use of his leg, that much was clear. The surgeon had assured Aquila that the procedure held no danger for Marcus but he couldn’t help worrying regardless. He’d grown used to his nephew’s presence in the villa and he genuinely liked the boy, finding it difficult to see him facing the prospect of more hardship and pain. Still, Marcus had Esca to look after his needs now and although the Briton had been a member of the household for only a matter of weeks, he seemed capable and respectful albeit grudgingly so. Aquila saw well enough the furtive way that they watched each other, endlessly wary and as unsure of each other as two opposing armies awaiting battle.
The surgeon ensured that Marcus was strapped down to the table and Aquila made his excuses, having already had his fill of gore in his lifetime. As he turned back in the doorway to watch for a moment as the surgeon ordered Esca to hold Marcus down, he saw it again - the way one would look and the other would immediately look away only to look back and cause the first to avert his eyes until finally their gazes held steady.
He wasn’t sure what it was about Esca that had drawn Marcus’ attention that day in the forum but he was seized by the sudden hope that he hadn’t brought too much trouble to his nephew by agreeing to bring the slave into their household.