Muskan Arif

Chapter 3 Josephus was more than a decent master and a good Christian; he was also a senator of Rome. He kept his religion to himself. It wasn’t illegal to be a Christian under this emperor, but it was better for someone like Josephus to keep his mouth shut in public. No one cared if one didn’t make a spectacle of oneself. Of course, if the authorities found out, he would probably have to give up his seat in the Senate. As Josephus walked toward the Curia, he ran into a fellow senator, Drusus Macro. Macro was one who rose from the ranks of the army to become a senator. He even looked like a soldier, with a face as flat as a shield. Overall, he looked more like a battering ram than a regal senator. He was certainly the opposite of his friend Josephus. The two men were on their way to hear arguments in the Senate about the price of importing corn from Etheria. There were two schools of thought. One, which Macro supported, said that it was cheaper to import corn from a province that was already sending tribute. Rome could just knock some of the price of the tribute down to make the corn easier for the provincial government to ship. The other side, that Josephus was on, argued that Rome’s own farmers couldn’t compete with that kind of price-cutting. It might be a higher price to pay the local farmers, but they pay taxes too and undercutting their crop is becoming a financial burden that the city is going to have to deal with. It’s also easier for them to ship corn overland, and at least one could argue that the Roman corn wasn’t sitting on a rat-filled boat for three weeks as it sailed into the harbor. The two men walked to the Curia together when Marco approached his colleague with a new subject. “So, what do you think of our illustrious Senator Lucian Piso bringing up a proposal to make Christianity illegal again?” Since the earliest days, Christianity had gone back and forth from being illegal, to tolerated to illegal, to apathy. Josephus had already known that Piso was planning on bringing this measure up, otherwise, this news would have been such a shock to the good senator that Macro probably would have been suspicious. “I think it’s a waste of time,” Josephus said, trying not to sound too concerned. “From what I understand, it’s a very small group of people who keep to themselves.” “Who performs human sacrifices and worships a criminal?” Macro continued. He made the same generalizations that most other people made about Christians. Josephus bristled at this characterization but continued walking unconcerned. “Have you ever met any Christians, Macro?” Josephus confronted him, forcing him to stop. Josephus never liked Macro because of his low-class ways and common upbringing, but he was trying to be polite. Josephus smiled at this bull of a man. “Have you?” Macro looked puzzled as Josephus continued, “You see, my dear Macro, my point is that Christians don’t exactly stand out in a crowd. They don’t glow in the dark and don’t have a third arm, so you really can’t tell them apart from anyone else. So how would you enforce a law like that? For all you know, you probably know a Christian yourself and don’t even realize it. It could be that woman in the marketplace from whom you buy your meals. It could be the slave in the bathhouse you go to. It could be that whore you frequent. It could even be someone in your own household—maybe even a family member.” Josephus walked on, leaving Macro standing in the hallway. A few hours later, Josephus walked into the house, dejected. Nallus saw that his master was upset and brought him a glass of wine along with a plate of cheese and some of Dorian’s bread. “They rejected the proposal,” Josephus said sadly. “They agreed to sell the Roman public short by purchasing a substandard product and depriving our own farmers of a decent living.” “I’m sorry, Master,” Nallus said as he poured the wine. “I know how much that proposal meant to you. You did your best.” Normally, Nallus would have left his master alone to brood over his failure, but he remained. Josephus sensed he had something to say. “Well, is there anything going on around here I should know about, Nallus?” “Now that you mentioned it, there are two things I would like to discuss with you.” “Problems?” “One could call them problems, Master,” Nallus said. Josephus took a deep breath. “Let me guess. Does one of these problems involve Dorian?” “Well,” Nallus said reluctantly, “in a way, both problems involve Dorian.” “What’s he done this time?” Josephus asked. “Is he not behaving himself again?” “Oh no, nothing like that, Master,” Nallus said quickly. “He has been very obedient and does his work without any backtalk. You see, Master, the problem is … Dorian’s drinking.” “His drinking?” Josephus said, not expecting that at all. “You know I have allowed all the slaves free access to the wine.” “Master, Dorian drinks to excess. It doesn’t seem to affect his work, but usually by the middle of the day, he’s drunk.” Josephus never told the other slaves in the household what kind of existence Dorian had before he arrived or the abuse he suffered. What seemed strange to Nallus was completely reasonable to Josephus. If he were in that kind of hellish existence, he would go through life numb as well. “I’ll talk to Dorian,” Josephus said. Nallus looked relieved. Dorian listened to Nallus when he gave an order, but he was glad this was one issue he didn’t have to deal with. He would never admit it to his master, but Dorian intimidated him a little. “You said there were two problems,” Josephus said. “Yes, Master, the second one has to do with Nadia.” “Nadia?” Josephus was not expecting that at all. Being the only female in the house, Nadia had been a maternal comfort to all these men, including Josephus. Nallus went on to explain the problem. Nadia usually goes to the market alone after making a mental list of what’s needed and getting money from Master. Until recently, there hadn’t been a problem. Today, however, Nadia came home crying. She had been accosted in the alley near the market by two young men who forced her to drop the things she had just bought. They called her several unsavory names, backed her into a corner, and laid their hands on her. Although she was able to get away, she lost half of the items she had purchased. Frantic, she worried that Master would punish her for dropping the goods. Nallus tried to comfort her, assuring her that Master wasn’t like that. When the others heard about the incident, Burrell immediately wanted to go out, find these good-for-nothings, and thrash them. Nallus had to stop him, saying that it would only get him into trouble. Josephus was angry about the situation and demanded to know whether these men were slaves or free. Nallus told him that, based on Nadia’s description, they were citizens. This made Josephus even angrier. Proper Roman gentlemen shouldn’t act like street thugs, and they should show more respect for older women, regardless of whether they are slaves or not. What’s more, Nallus told Master that this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Nadia finally confessed that this was the fourth time these youths had treated her this way; she had only now decided to tell someone because of the goods she lost while running away. “Thank you for telling me, Nallus. I will talk to Nadia, but what does this have to do with Dorian? Does he know these men?” “No, I don’t think so, but I have thought of a plan.” Nallus sat down at his master’s request and relayed the plan. “Nadia shouldn’t go to the market alone anymore. She is getting older and shouldn’t have to carry all these items back by herself, especially if she has to deal with people like that. I think Dorian should accompany her on trips to the market.” Josephus looked puzzled. “Why Dorian? Why not Burrell?” “Master, I think it’s time we start trusting Dorian, and this will be one way to show him that,” Nallus said seriously. “He has been here for three months and hasn’t left the property. He finishes his work quickly, which leads to idleness. I think this idleness will get him into more trouble. Besides, it will keep him away from the wine.” “That may be true,” Master said. “But Dorian practically grew up in Rome’s alleys. Wouldn’t this put him in proximity to elements that could lead him astray? You remember what happened the last time he left the house.” “I remember,” Nallus said. “But I don’t think he would seek out those people, especially with Nadia by his side. They seem to have a special fondness for each other. She looks after him, and he wouldn’t risk her safety to drink and gamble with ruffians.” Josephus thought for a moment and then said, “Alright, we’ll do it your way. I will speak to both. Send Nadia in first.” Nadia entered, shaking and in tears. She was so frightened and so apologetic that even Master brushed back a tear. He sat down next to her and comforted her. Of course, he wasn’t angry; he wasn’t going to punish her. She never should have gone through that. It turned out that the slave of the merchant from whom Nadia bought her produce had witnessed what happened and brought her basket to the house, with most of the items she lost still inside. But next time something like this happens, she must tell someone instead of keeping it a secret. She promised and felt better when she heard that Dorian would escort her to and from the market. When she left, Dorian came in. Already knowing the story, he readily agreed to accompany Nadia on her trips to the market. He also made a solemn promise to his master that he would not deviate from the route to drink or gamble in a tavern, especially if it meant leaving Nadia to fend for herself. “One more thing, Dorian,” Josephus said before the young slave left. “Yes, Master?” “Until I say otherwise, you are restricted to four cups of wine a day.” “Master, I don’t understand.” “I know how much you have been drinking, Dorian,” Josephus said. The slave lowered his head. “I don’t approve of drunkenness. I know it hasn’t affected your work, and I understand why you do it. It’s mostly a habit that began as a survival mechanism when you were with Manius. You got drunk to cope with the abuse you endured. But you don’t have to do that here. There is no reason for you to drink to excess anymore. You’re not being abused here, are you?” “No, Master,” Dorian said quietly. “But it’s hard to stop. I’ve been drinking like this for years.” “I understand that, but it’s time for you to stop, and I want to help you. Your escorting Nadia to and from the market is one way to do that, and it helps her as well. So, this is how it will be: four cups of wine. If I find you sneaking more, I will restrict you further until you are not allowed any.” “Master, please don’t do this. I promise I’ll do better,” Dorian begged. “I won’t get drunk anymore. Please don’t restrict my wine.” Josephus shook his head. “No. It’s for your own good. Four cups of wine. I expect you to obey.” “But Master…” “There is no more discussion. Do as you are told.” “Yes, Master.” By the middle of the next day, Dorian’s head felt like it was splitting open. With it being the hottest part of the year and the fact that he hadn't had a decent amount of wine for two days, he was surely at his worst. He was very short with Nallus; he even snapped at Vigo. He received a tongue-lashing from his master because of the way he was acting. When Nadia and Dorian finally arrived at the market, it was high noon, the busiest time of the day. Nadia chattered away happily, not even realizing that Dorian had stopped listening. She seemed to know everyone at the market, and everyone knew and liked her. She picked fruits and vegetables, partridges, and quail eggs, engaging in conversation with anyone at the stall, whether slave or free. Dorian took the items from Nadia’s hands and placed them in the basket he was carrying, his head pounding with every step. Finally, they finished shopping and began their walk home. Suddenly, Nadia grew very quiet, glancing around anxiously. “What’s wrong?” Dorian asked. “I don’t see them,” Nadia whispered. “Don’t worry, Nadia,” Dorian reassured her. “They will not bother you again.” When they entered the house, Master was reading a manuscript. “How was your trip to the market?” he asked. “Wonderful,” Nadia said, humming as she went into the kitchen. Josephus glanced at Dorian and immediately sensed his pain. Over the next few days, Dorian's condition worsened. His headache intensified, he couldn’t sleep at night, he had trouble eating, and he felt drowsy during the day. He even fell asleep during the household’s morning prayers, prompting yet another lecture from his master—something he dreaded. Finally, on the fourth day of his restriction, Dorian had had enough. He was mending a torn hem in his master’s tunic while Josephus wore it, as he was already late for a banquet. Dorian held the sleeve up when Josephus said, “I think it’s still a little uneven.” Before he fully realized what he was saying, Dorian blurted out, “If you would just shut up and hold still, I could have finished by now.” Dorian barely got the last word out when he felt a stinging slap across his face. The pain was so intense that tears began to fall. He looked up in horror and saw his master’s face brimming with anger. Without raising his voice, Josephus spoke to Dorian in a way that made him tremble. “How dare you speak to me like that?” Josephus began. “I will not tolerate being spoken to in such a manner by any member of this house. You may be able to talk to your drunken friends in the street like that, but in this house, you will know your place. If you ever speak to me like that again, you will face worse than a slap. Now go to your room and stay there. You will have no supper, and you will spend the rest of the night thinking about how you should speak to me with the respect I am entitled to. Go; I’ll get Nadia to finish this.” Dorian was out of the room in a flash. He didn’t once venture outside the door before his master left. All night, he thought about what had happened. “You idiot,” he said to himself. “Are you trying to screw up? You have a good thing going here! A nice house, easy work. What is wrong with you? How could you be so stupid? How could you say something so stupid?” He never even spoke to Trentus like that, even though he probably could have gotten away with it. Finally, he heard the door open. Master had come home. Everyone had gone to bed, and he heard Josephus downstairs in his library. He knew what he needed to do. He opened the door and went downstairs. Dorian quietly knocked and waited for the response, “Come in.” Josephus was surprised to see him. “What are you doing up?” “Master,” Dorian began softly, “I wanted to ask your forgiveness for what I said tonight and for the way I have been acting over the last week. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I haven’t been acting like a very good Christian. I seem to be cross with everyone. I know you told me not to, but I did leave my room once tonight. I apologized to everyone else for my behavior, and I wanted to stay up until you got home to apologize to you as well.” Dorian turned to leave. “Wait,” Josephus called him back. He motioned for Dorian to sit on the couch. Dorian sat wordlessly with his head down. Josephus sat down next to him. “First of all,” Master began, “I accept your apology, and I gladly forgive you. Second, I’m glad you apologized to the others. If you hadn’t, I probably would have made you do it tomorrow. Third, this whole thing is partly my fault.” “Oh no, Master.” Josephus held up his hand. “Let me finish. I spoke to a physician at the banquet tonight. I told him about you. He said when a person rapidly gives up wine, it has a certain physical effect on the body. Deprivation can make them say and do things they wouldn’t normally say and do. He said what I should have done was limit your wine intake slowly over a longer period. Maybe then you wouldn’t have gone through all that pain, and tonight’s incident never would have taken place. I hope you can forgive me.” No one had ever asked for his forgiveness before. He didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of. He nodded stupidly and said, “Uh huh.” The Master smiled back, amused that he had caught his slave, who always had something to say, off guard. “Good. Now go to bed. We’ll start over tomorrow.” A few days after the incident, Nadia and Dorian were once again walking home from the market. Dorian was happier; his headaches were gone, and the senator allowed him one more cup of wine a day. He was listening to Nadia chatter about how the man in the fish stall seemed to be sweet on her and was giving her a lower price. She then stopped short and immediately fell silent. In the alley in front of them were two young men of the upper classes. They were grinning and holding a rope. Nadia went pale. Dorian looked at them and shrugged slightly. “That's them?” he asked Nadia quietly. They didn't look too impressive to him. Although he didn't know them, he knew the type—brave when they were with their friends but falling to pieces when alone in an alley. Dorian had spent many days dealing with men like them. He then noticed Nadia start to tremble a little as the men approached. “I see you brought your dog today,” one of the men sneered at Nadia. “Let us pass,” Dorian said politely. “Sure,” the other said, pointing to Nadia. “If she lifts her skirts and gives us what we want, we'll let you pass.” Dorian shook his head. “That's not going to happen.” “Alright,” the first man said, taking out a dagger. “Get on your knees and give us what we want, and maybe we won't cut you both up.” Dorian smiled. “I don't think so.” He got into his usual fighting stance. Nadia started pulling at his tunic. “Dorian, I don't want you to get hurt.” “By these two?” Dorian laughed. “Don't worry about me. I can take on these two without even messing up my hair. Rich people bruise easily. Just go wait behind that crate.” The two men advanced, but it didn't take long for Dorian to disarm them. He belted one in the face, sending him flying. The other tried to swipe at Dorian with his knife. Dorian swiftly moved out of the way, caught the man by the tunic, and threw him to the ground. He picked up the man's dagger, tossed it into a pile of manure, pulled Nadia with him, and the two scurried home. They weren’t home for more than a few minutes when Josephus came down the stairs. From the look on Nadia's face, he suspected something had happened. Dorian confessed everything, expecting to be punished for striking a member of the upper class. Just then, there was a pounding at the door. Josephus opened it to find an older man dragging one of the men Dorian had confronted into the house. The younger man pointed at Dorian and said, “That's him!” “I want that slave punished!” the older man shouted at Josephus, disregarding protocol about addressing someone of a higher class. “He struck my son, and I want him whipped!” Without raising his voice, Josephus said, “It looks to me like your son got what he deserved. If I were in that alley, he would be the one getting whipped for acting like a common street thug instead of behaving in a way that befits his class and station in society.” Josephus then recounted the story that Dorian had just shared, adding the abuse that Nadia had received from him and his friend over the last few weeks. While he spoke, the younger man had his head down. “Well, young man,” Josephus asked, “is the incident the way I described it true?” The man said nothing. His father, tired of waiting, slapped his son. “Answer the senator!” “Yes, it's true!” The father felt embarrassed, and he was even more so when Josephus delivered his speech on proper Roman behavior. Dorian silently wondered how many times Josephus had given that speech; he had it memorized. After Josephus finished, the father spoke again. “I'm sorry, senator, that my son and his friend have harassed your household. It won't happen again. But you need to punish your slave.” Josephus insisted, “My slave will be properly punished. I would advise you to speak to your son. And young man, you're lucky Dorian was in a good mood. The last time a man attacked him like that, he gutted him like a fish. It took him hours to clean up the blood. Now you may leave.” Dorian saw a slight smile cross his master's face as he closed the door on the two men, then turned to Dorian with a stern look. “Well, Dorian, are you ready to receive your punishment?” Dorian didn't flinch but looked straight at him. “Yes, Master.” Josephus paused to think for a moment, then turned to Nadia. “Nadia, did I hear you say this morning that we are having stewed prunes for dessert?” “Yes, Master,” Nadia said, almost speechless. “Well then,” Josephus continued, turning back to Dorian. “For your punishment, you will not be allowed any dessert tonight.” He turned and walked out of the room. Nadia gave a confused look to Dorian, who smiled and winked at her. Josephus knew Dorian hated stewed prunes.