Skaia (57 page)

He turned away and pulled out several old writings of the Greek philosophers from deep in his storage cubes. As he handed them to his slave, he said gently, “I hope these may keep you amused while I am away.”

Skaia’s face reflected his surprise, and then lit with delight when he realized what they were. “Thank you, sir. These are wonderful.”

Thaddeus kissed the boy’s forehead before leaving his rooms.
I haven’t thought of philosophy in many years.
Yet, he found himself thinking that future nights of discussion with Skaia would be entertaining.
Maybe even wonderful.

And he was absolutely sure that his father would be pleased.

XVII

Glaucus and Bessus walked into the interior of the simple house together. They were laughing again at how the Spartans had lived, with their total denial of pleasures, and their devotion to a life of harshness and military discipline.

Nicea approached to take their cloaks from them, backing away without speaking. “What of you, boy?” Bessus called out to their Greek slave. “What were you taught about the Spartans?”

“
I am Athenian, Master,” Nicea answered as he hung the cloaks on wall pegs. “To us, the Spartans were not held in high esteem. They devoted their lives to a military state.”

“
Perhaps if you’d held them in higher esteem, you might have been better prepared to defend yourselves against conquest,” Bessus laughed, and the slave bowed his head, silently accepting the ridicule.

“
Oh, leave him be, Bessus,” Glaucus grinned. “He’s sufficiently defeated now, that even you should be satisfied.”

Bessus laughed again. “I’m not easily satisfied, you know. But if you insist.”

Nicea approached Glaucus and handed him a sealed parchment. “This came today, Master, while you were out.”

Glaucus recognized Thaddeus’ writing. “Get us some wine while I read it,” he instructed. He sat down at the table, and broke the wax seal, reading the contents as Nicea silently served them their cups of wine. “From my father,” Glaucus said when Bessus took a seat as well, looking at him inquiringly.

“
What’s wrong?” Bessus asked, as he saw the look of alarm cross Glaucus’ face.

“
My grandfather is dead. And Lucius also.”

“
What?” Bessus was almost as shocked as Glaucus. “I thought your grandfather would live forever.” He murmured his sympathies. “Can I do anything?”

“
No… no, I just need to be alone for a while. To think,” Glaucus replied, his eyes still locked on the piece of parchment he held in his hands.

Bessus waited for a few moments, but when Glaucus did not even look up, he took his cloak and left to find Trestus, who was still out with the horses.

Glaucus read the letter again, and then looked across at Nicea. “My father says I should bring you home.”

Nicea looked back at him in surprise. “Home, sir? You mean to Rome?”

“
Where the fuck do you think my family lives?” Glaucus snarled before he stood and began to pace. “Why would my father care what we do with you?” he muttered as he slowed. This question was not said with such hostility, but clearly Glaucus did not expect Nicea to answer. And so the slave remained silent.

But that didn’t stop Glaucus’ voice rising in anger again. “He’s taking
my
slave to bed. He’s sleeping with Skaia!  Why would he do that?”

When Glaucus glared at Nicea, the slave quickly shook his head. “I don’t know, sir.”
Because he wants to, and because he can. It’s what all men do.

The letter was thrown on the table. “No, of course you don‘t.” Glaucus grabbed his own cloak, and stalked out, rage fuelling his footsteps, walking brusquely until he calmed down and stared off into the bleak landscape. He hated this awful place with its frequent bouts of cold, rainy weather. With its lack of any amenities that could sooth a man’s soul.

I hate it,
he thought again.
Just like I hate everything else, right now.
But it wasn’t Sparta, not even his father he was upset with. He was infuriated because Skaia had given in to his father. And because his grandfather had died while he was gone.

He sunk to the ground, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, and wept quietly. Only when he noticed daylight was fading did he force himself to his feet, and make his way back to the small rented house.

Bessus and Trestus were there now, but Nicea was the one who approached, head bowed, to take his cloak. Trestus spoke first, his voice full of concern. “You were gone a very long time, Glaucus. We were worried. How are you?”

“
I’m fine,” Glaucus answered, as he sunk into a chair. His voice was hard. “Unlike Bessus, I knew my grandfather would die.” Nicea slipped a cup of wine to the table in front of him. “But I’ve had enough of this trip. I want to go home now.”

Trestus and Bessus looked at one another, Bessus taking a sip of his wine before starting to speak. “It is not proper, Glaucus. We still need to study the battle formations. We will only be staying here a few more weeks, anyway. I, for one, do not wish to shame my family, by leaving early.”

“
Nor I,” Trestus agreed.

Glaring at them both, Glaucus realized they were right. He finally nodded, accepting their advice.
Perhaps,
he thought,
deserting an assignment would not be the best way to enter public life.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of it, before getting his emotions under control. When he could speak again, his voice was clipped. “Yes, grandfather would not be pleased either if I did that.”

Trestus threw his head back and swallowed down his wine. “Do you want to go out tonight and get totally drunk, or shall we send the slave for food?”

Glaucus looked at Nicea. He was standing as he always did, head bowed, totally submissive, waiting for orders. “His name is Nicea,” Glaucus said angrily. “After all this damn time, you should know his name.”

“
Who cares what his name is!  He…he’s just a slave, Glaucus,” Bessus sputtered. “He’ll be sold to a brothel before we leave. There’s no need to…to personalize him.”

Shaking his head, Glaucus told them, “Plans have changed. My father wants me to bring him home.”

Trestus felt a moment of relief—though he certainly would not reveal it to his companions. “What?” he demanded. “How does your father even know about him?”

“
I assume one of you must have mentioned him. I know I didn’t.” Glaucus looked accusingly at his two friends.

“
It was me,” Bessus admitted. “I didn’t think it would do any harm to tell. And I don’t understand why your father would want him brought back to Rome.”

Glaucus threw the letter to him. “Read it. He doesn’t say.”

After he and Trestus had both scoured the letter, Bessus looked up with a faint smile. “Maybe your father just likes to play with your leavings.”

Frowning at the implication, Glaucus snapped, “Skaia was not my leavings, Bessus. He was my slave.” His voice softened ever so slightly. “And my friend.”

Trestus spoke harshly. “That’s foolish drivel, Glaucus. Slaves are simply possessions to be used.” He turned towards Nicea, refusing to acknowledge his own feelings for the pretty Greek. “Come here, boy.” Nicea approached. “Strip.”

The slave looked to Glaucus for just a moment. But then he did as he’d been ordered, taking off his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the floor. “Kneel and raise your ass,” Trestus demanded.

Glaucus stood quickly. “No! Come to me.”

Nicea looked between them, but when Trestus did not object, he stepped toward Glaucus.

Trestus laughed loudly. “You’re a fool, Glaucus. But, if you want him, fine. Just don’t blame us when your father is angry because you’re soft on yet another slave.”

Glaucus scowled at Trestus, and spoke softly to Nicea. “Put your clothes back on and go for dinner.” The young Greek did as he was told quickly, bowing as he left them. Glaucus refilled their cups and sat again. “I’m sorry. But if he’s going home with me, I won’t have him abused anymore.”

“
We don’t abuse him,” Trestus protested. “He’s a slave, Glaucus. We use him. He puts up with it and doesn’t complain. Why should you?”

Glaucus didn’t answer, only looked at the table top and downed his wine. Bessus pulled out the dice and began to throw them aimlessly. In time, the tension eased, and the young men drank and played their games, their talk coming easily again.

Nicea returned and served their dinner, then stood back, trying to be invisible as he always did. But occasionally, he would glance at Glaucus, allowing himself to feel the hope for a better life. He had no idea what his life might be like in Rome, but surely it would be better than belonging to a brothel.

Thaddeus sighed and reclined on his couch. The rumors about the growing conflicts in the Senate were spreading. And now Flavius confirmed that the petty bickering would affect them directly. Appointments to Senatorial duties, both for Bessus as a member of the guard, and for Glaucus as a provincial emissary, were in question. The various factions, clearly split on supporting Caesar or not, were beginning to disrupt all the Senate’s business. Even simple routine appointments, like the ones being sought by Bessus and Glaucus, were being held up and required the active support of sponsors.

“
Damn,” Thaddeus said. “My family got out of all of the political maneuverings when my father resigned from the Senate. We should have just moved back to the country for good.”

“
Your father should never have resigned,” Antius muttered under his breath, but was determined not to rouse the subject again. “We cannot go back to a simpler time, my friend,” he said, “as much as we might like to. And we all three have sons… We must do all we can to ensure their success.”

“
Besides,” Flavius added with a hint of laughter, “we already have a likely ally in Scipio. The marriage contract between Trestus and his daughter has been signed. I’m practically a relative.”

Thaddeus and Antius both looked at Flavius. Scipio’s support would indeed be most useful. His house was not as powerful as it had once been in the past, after the Punic Wars, but it was still highly respected—and had remained independent of the arguments about Caesar. If the Senator could be recruited to actively support the young men, there should be no problems.

“
Is Marius still allied with Scipio?” Thaddeus asked. At Antius’ confirmation, he made a suggestion. “I can host a dinner, and invite Scipio and Marius, possibly some others of the less powerful members of the Senate. That, and a few well-placed gifts, should be sufficient to acquire the necessary support.”

Flavius shifted on his couch and sat up. “More will be required than just good food and wine, Thaddeus. Scipio will also expect to be entertained. I’ve heard he has a taste for pretty boys.” He glanced towards Skaia, as the boy came forward to refill their cups. “I can have Dax, my new Greek boy here too. He dances well. Either he, or Skaia, should definitely attract the Senator’s attention.”