Jars of Clay (3 page)

Helena removed her sandals and rubbed her feet on the cool, terracotta floor tiles. Her brothers and father stood over the table admiring the craftsmanship.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Cassius said.

“Shh, Cassius,” Helena said, spotting Virina. “Mother is coming!”

“Go, Helena,” Brutus said. “Tell her to cover her eyes, and lead her in!”

Helena did as commanded, thrilled with her roll in this great surprise. Her mother complied, allowing herself to be led into the courtyard as if she were blind.

“Okay, Mother,” Cassius said. “You may look.”

They were rewarded with a genuine response of gratitude and admiration.

“Oh, boys!” she said, drawing a long finger over the tile mosaic top. “It’s beautiful! What fine work.”

The couches were moved to surround three sides of the new table, and they all lounged as slaves brought out several rounds of food and drink.

“Come, my sweet,” Brutus said to Helena. “I think an old man like me is entitled to a hug once in a while.”

Helena, charmed at being a source of affection and pride to her father, allowed herself to be swallowed in his strong arms. He smelled faintly of wine and olives as he had been inspecting his crops that morning.

She settled into the lounge beside him, and reached for a melon slice. Gordian sat across from her, his dark eyebrows pinched together as if deep in thought.

“I saw Pionius today at the baths,” he finally stated. “He also is to leave shortly to join the army.”

Gordian had become a man swiftly, Helena thought, as though overnight. He had recently turned nineteen, and had grown to the height of their father. He was handsome in a cultured way, not at all like the rugged attractiveness she found in the freedman’s boy, Lucius. The thought of
him
and his arrogant assumption stirred her, and she pushed down her growing desire to meet him tomorrow.

“This is true,” Brutus replied, “as I have spoken with his father about it often. We are proud to see our sons turn into men, but I must once again provoke you, Gordian, to consider rather a position in the Senate.”

“Father, you know how I feel,” Gordian said, a wave of crimson betraying his effort to control his temper. “Perhaps during the republic, the Senate wielded some power and influence, but now it’s become nothing more than a place for overfed patricians to entertain themselves with lofty, meaningless debates.”

“You judge the Senate harshly, Gordian. Life in the army is difficult, barbaric even. Not to mention the possibility that you might not return home. I am in a position to spare you this.”

“And this I respect and admire, Father. However, I’ve made up my mind. Perhaps when I tire of the army and the excitement of battle, I will return to fondle words in the Senate.”

“Oh Brutus, he is a man now,” added their mother, lifting her glass in a mock toast, “We should cheer him on.”

“Very well, Virina. So be it,” Brutus said, his lips tight. He turned toward the servants, who stood waiting in the shadows by the kitchen.

“Annia,” he called. “It appears that we are celebrating. Summon the dancer and flutist.”

“In a couple years, I will join you brother,” Cassius added eagerly. He was nearing eighteen now, the same age as Lucius, she thought, though so much softer.

“Be not in a rush to leave us as well, my son,” said Brutus. “You have your studies still.”

“I know, Father, it’s just that it sounds so exciting. I desire adventure.”

“And I’m sure it desires you, Cassius. Let it come to you at the proper time.”

“You desire the army, Cassius?” Gordian said, scoffing. “You have no stomach for the blood of the arena, much less the blood of battle!”

Cassius shrunk back, quietly sputtering his defense. “I’m doing better now. Once I join the army, I’ll be as brave as any gladiator or soldier in Rome.”

Helena was not permitted to attend the games, even though she thought it unfair that her brothers were, again, allowed to do something she was not. Secretly she was glad of it. She had no desire to see blood other than at the sacrifices. She worried that Gordian might be killed in battle, but if something should ever happen to Cassius, it would be torment. Though they had grown apart in recent years, Cassius was at one time her most constant playmate. She prayed to the gods that he would not go when the time came.

A slave masterfully played a happy tune on the flute, much to Helena’s relief, and was joined by a young slave girl, who began to dance. She was dressed in the standard white tunic and leather belt of the slaves and servants of the house of Vibius. Helena thought she was pretty for a slave, and noticed that the girl’s eyes darted often to those of her brother Gordian. He acted like he did not notice her, yet his eyes gave his pretense away. Had he befriended a slave, in the same way she had befriended Lucius?

Her mother noticed the exchange as well and frowned in response. “Gordian,” she said tersely, “Please pass me the bread and honey.”

Gordian did as requested, tossing his own food scraps onto the floor in front of the table. The slaves would sweep it up later.

“I have more bright news to share with my family,” said Brutus. “I am to ship out my largest order of olive oil to date. Eighteen hundred amphora!”

Helena had visited the olive plant once with her father. She could barely lift the large clay jars filled with oil.

“That’s great, Father,” echoed Gordian and Cassius.

“Where will you get so many amphora?” asked Virina.

“Isaac the Jew. Though I despise giving a Jew so much good business, he is undoubtedly the best clay maker in Carthage. I can take no chances on a lesser quality clay vessel that may leak or break during the voyage to Italy.”

“I’d rather deal with a Jew than a Christian!” said Gordian. “Have you seen that crazy fool, Tertullian? The way he flaunts his teachings about a poor Jew who was crucified in Judea? Craziness. Jews and Christians are both crazy, claiming there is only one god. Ludicrous!”

“But why are there so many?” asked Helena. “Why not just one god?”

“Only one god?!” Brutus laughed out loud. “Oh, young one. You do make me laugh with all your questions. But the answer is simple. The gods watch over and rule space. There is too much space for just one god to look after. And we give thanks to them and make offerings, because we trespass on their space. Not sacrificing would be like living in another man’s house and not paying rent.”

“I see,” she said, feeling slighted by being called a young one. Did her family not see that she, too, was growing up?

“Anyway, let’s not waste time discussing Jews and Christians,” Brutus said. “Cassius, tell us of your studies with Demetri today.”

“He taught us about Logos. Good lies not in eternal objects,” Cassius answered, “but in the state of the soul itself, in the wisdom and restraint by which a person is delivered from the passions and desires that perturb the ordinary life.”

“That is a philosophy that would be worth putting into practice,” Virina remarked to Gordian whose attention was once again diverted by the dancing slave girl. “And not only into your vast file of knowledge.”

“Of course, Mother,” Gordian said, aware that his indiscretion had betrayed him. “Wisdom, courage, justice and temperance—this is my motto.”

“Demetri said that Greek philosophers of Stoicism recognize and advocate the brotherhood of humanity and natural equality of all human beings,” said Cassius.

“Does that mean we are equal with the slaves that serve us?” said Helena, reminded of Lucius’s need to affirm his freedom.

“Really, Helena!” spat Gordian. “That’s the second stupid question of the day. Father, must she remain with us?”

“Her questions are harmless, Gordian,” Brutus said. “She has an inquiring mind. It is our responsibility to shape it.”

“If she weren’t a girl, she could see Demetri with me,” said Cassius.

“Lots of girls study with Greek tutors!” Helena said.

“Not lots,” returned Gordian.

“Yes, lots.”

“Now, now children, stop,” Virina said. “And by the way,” she added, “Where is Marcellus?”

“Oh, Mother,” Helena said, “I forgot. Marcellus is not well.” She shared her concerns about her brother, his lack of energy and the sore on his face.

“I suppose I should go check on him.” Virina moved her long legs over the couch, slipping her feet into her sandals, and losing her balance briefly in her effort to stand. She threw back her head, finishing the wine in her glass. “I think I’ll return to my chambers from there.”

Chapter Seven

HELENA’S JOURNAL

I’ve taken to recording my thoughts on papyrus, my father having given me several rolls for my studies
.
With no one but myself to talk to, perhaps writing these things down will help me sort out my feelings.

I met with the servant, Lucius, for the second time this week. He was so eager to learn and so grateful for the maps I brought, it made me feel—useful. And appreciated. I find I’m looking forward to meeting with him again, and am already planning what new things I could teach him.

Of course what I’m doing, what we’re both doing, is extremely dangerous. If Father found out, he would be gravely disappointed in me but worse, I know in my heart of hearts, he would have Lucius put to death.

I’ve been very plain with Lucius about the risks, but these are risks he’s willing to take. Education is freedom, he says.

As a woman, I will never be truly free, but at least, for the first time in my life, I finally feel alive.

Chapter Eight

LUCIUS

When they were apart, he couldn’t stop thinking about the master’s daughter, and when they were together, it was all he could do to keep from staring. Though not ravishingly beautiful like some of the statue goddesses, he found her countenance striking. She was soft with youthful womanly curves, and her skin was clear and smooth as alabaster with just a smattering of sun-kissed freckles on her nose. Her lips were round and moist; he imagined what it would be like to kiss….

“Lucius! Am I boring you?”

“No, no of course, not.” Lucius sat straighter, careful to erase all emotion from his face. “I, my mind…”

“It’s okay. It’s hard to concentrate when it’s so hot out.” Helena pushed a stray auburn curl behind her ear. “Have you heard of the
Aeneid
?”

“Yes, I know of the
Aeneid
, and about Virgil of course,” Lucius said. He silently rebuked himself for letting his mind wander. Especially about her.

“My father told me the
Aeneid
takes up where Homer’s
Iliad
left off, even though he wrote the
Iliad
in Greek and Virgil wrote in Latin.” She sat across from him on the blanket she’d begun to bring with her daily. She told him the chair was too uncomfortable.

“Cassius doesn’t know I have this,” she said, unrolling the scroll, “so I must be very careful not to damage it, and replace it before he returns.”

Lucius bowed his head. “I’m greatly indebted to you, Helena. Your willingness to teach me has enriched my education, and your company is a pleasure.” He raised his chin and caught her eyes. “But you meet with me at great personal risk and I’m not worthy. I was the one who recklessly initiated our meeting up together, and now I insist that we stop.”

“What? Of course we will not stop.” Helena’s brows pulled together, her cheeks reddened. “And, may I point out to you, that if anyone is to call our meetings to a halt, it shall be me.”

Lucius bowed his head again. She had surprised him. Not only was she intelligent and witty, but strong-spirited. She didn’t make him feel like an underling or an outcast. In fact, he got the impression that she enjoyed his company nearly as much as he enjoyed hers.

“I acquiesce to you.”

“Good. Let’s continue.” Helena cleared her throat. “Virgil tells of the final victory of the Greeks, and how the hero Aeneas seeks the far-off shores of Italy, where he hopes to make a new home.”

Reading in Latin, she began:

“
I sing of warfare and man at war.

From the sea coast of Troy in early days

He came to Italy by destiny,

To our Lavinian western shore,

A fugitive, the captain, buffeted

Cruelly on land as on sea

By blows from powers of the air behind them

Baleful Juno in her sleepless rage.

“What did I just say?” she asked. He repeated the translation back in Punic. She handed the scroll to him.

“Good, now why don’t you read this section out loud to me?”

Lucius accepted the scroll tentatively, his eyes scanning the text until he found where she’d left off.

“…and Juno cared more for Carthage

Than for any walled city of the earth,…”

Lucius glanced at his pretty tutor, surprised by the reference to his home city, then continued,

“…and Chariot were kept, and fate permitting

Carthage would be the ruler of the world.”

“How interesting,” he mused.

“What?”

“That Virgil would write of Carthage so, for even I know Carthage was the rival of Rome for many years, and it took three wars before she was severely conquered.”

Helena nodded, then explained. “Carthage to Juno is like a beautiful young lady to a young man.”

Like you are to me, Lucius thought. He lifted his head to face her and found her staring at him. Did she feel it, too? This energy they shared. Could she possibly have feelings for him?

Helena surprised him by looking away first. Her face flushed attractively.

“You’ve done very well, Lucius,” she said with a hitch in her voice. She rolled the scroll back into its original position. Apparently his lesson was over.

“Hopefully,” Helena continued without looking at him, “I can sneak this away from Cassius again tomorrow. They seem to go out often. When they’re not being tutored they go to the debates or the baths or the temples.”

Lucius had wondered more than once if Helena’s marriage had already been arranged, as she was well past the legal age of twelve. And it wasn’t only because he’d hate to lose his teacher.