Jars of Clay
JARS OF CLAY
A YA Novella
Volume One
by
Lee Strauss
JARS OF CLAY
A novella
by Lee Strauss
Copyright © 2012 Lee Strauss
Cover by Steve Novak
ISBN 978-1-927547-03-8
This is a work of fiction and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously and nay resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual event or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Jars of Clay (volume 1) and Broken Vessels (volume 2) contain strong religious themes and scenes of sensuality and violence. Recommended for ages 15 and up.
Chapter One
Carthage, Tunisia
North Africa–199 AD
HELENA
Helena’s father had cautioned her against wandering alone outside the perimeter of their villa, as mingling with the family’s slave and servant children was not allowed. Her brothers would be furious if they knew how far she had roamed. They, of course, were busy being tutored and if her father had considered her argument that it was unjust to exclude her just because she was a girl, then boredom wouldn’t have brought her here, to the knoll overlooking neat rows of puffy green trees, where a strange boy stood in the burnt grass, picking olives.
She pulled her tunic over her knees so she could crouch low. The boy was her age, maybe older, perhaps in his seventeenth year. His hair was bleached out to almost white from many hours in the sun, and it had grown long enough to trouble his eyes. His skin was toasted brown from the sun, and when he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, the muscles in his arms bulged.
He was fascinating.
Helena lived in a house with three brothers, two of which were slightly older than this boy but neither Gordian nor Cassius had arms like that. And their skin was like hers, pale as parchment.
Prickles shot up her legs forcing her to stretch them. Her graceless movement frightened a nesting bird, which cawed angrily, drawing the attention of the boy.
His eyes, grey like the color of dark clay, studied her.
She was clearly above him in station. He should look away first.
Then he did, and her heart did a curious thing. It lurched with disappointment. Instead of fleeing back to the safety of her villa like she knew she should, she stayed. Watching.
Finally the boy spoke. “If you’re going to just stand there, you might as well come and help.”
Help him? Was he mad?
“Do you know who I am?” she asked
The boy’s rhythm never faltered, and the olives landed in the pail,
plunk, plunk, plunk.
“Everyone knows who you are.”
Helena sucked in a surprised breath. That was the last thing she expected him to say. If anything, she felt invisible, entirely unknown.
Inexplicably she found herself approaching the boy, searching his face for any sign of familiarity. No, she’d never seen him before in her life. And in his unrefined way she found him…
handsome
?
It was as if another person possessed her body. Her hand reached up, unbidden, and plucked a fruit. She carefully tossed it into the boy’s pail. Then she tugged at another.
“Let’s be fair then,” she said. “If you know who I am, allow me to know you.”
The boy stopped, his eyes boring into hers. “I am Lucius, the son of a freedman who works for your father.” He offered a slight bow. “Not to be confused with others who live on this plantation and are slaves.”
Not a slave. For some irrational reason this news brought relief to Helena. Lucius continued his task and she tentatively joined him, realizing she had never picked an olive right off the branch before in her life. There was a certain satisfaction she could not name that came with this act.
Lucius reached above her head, and his arm brushed lightly against hers.
She froze. He seemed as shocked as she and hurriedly moved to the opposite side of the tree.
“Where is everyone else?” Helena said, breaking the tension. “Why are you alone?”
“I’m sent to check the ripeness. I’m only to pick one pail to be tested. Then the others will come.”
He spoke to her in Punic, a coarse language of the lower class.
“Do you speak Latin? Or Greek?” she asked.
“Everyone speaks a bit of Latin.” He stopped picking and walked over to her. She could see that his pail was full.
“You could teach me,” Lucius said.
“W-what?”
“Latin. You could teach me. And other things, too. You do get tutored, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t. Only my brothers do. My father teaches me.”
“Well, he’s a smart man. You could teach me what he teaches you.”
“And why would I do that?” Helena couldn’t keep the indignant tone from her voice.
He smirked. “You’re not supposed to be out here, are you?”
Her eyes widened with disbelief. “You would tell?”
“I wouldn’t have to.” Lucius turned away, his shoulders wide and straight with confidence. “You want to come back.”
“I do not!”
He laughed and pointed north of the knoll. “There’s a private alcove over there. Meet me tomorrow at the same time.”
Chapter Two
LUCIUS
Did that really just happen?
Lucius swung the bucket of olives lightly, careful not to let any spill. He couldn’t believe he’d conversed with the master’s daughter. He’d been known to be impulsive before, but to actually speak to the master’s daughter and then ask her to
teach
him?
He took comfort in the thought that she didn’t seem to mind. She appeared to be as curious about him as he was about her.
He smiled when he recalled the startled look on her face after he’d asked her to help with the picking.
And that accidental touch? Best he just forget all about that. Still, it was kind of nice.
But would she tell? He didn’t know her at all, and even though she’d considered his request for instruction, she could’ve been simply acting guile.
One of two things was about to happen for sure. He’d get reprimanded by the master or she’d show up to meet him the next day.
The thought of seeing her again sent tingles up his spine. He’d never had any opportunity in his life to enjoy the company of a refined young woman. But even more than that, he’d possibly gained a teacher. He would finally learn about the world around him, something he deemed quite necessary if he was going to travel and have adventure in this life.
Surely, the gods had smiled on him today.
Or had they? There was still the chance the girl would tell, and it was expressly forbidden for the children in the slave and servant compound to talk to the master’s children.
Maybe the authorities would be waiting to take him away when he got there. He slowed his stride.
Perhaps he’d been utterly foolish. What would they do to him? What would be his punishment?
Lucius pushed open the heavy door to the main production building. The olives were pressed and processed right there on the Vibius property, in a number of one-story structures made of wood and clay brick. His father Quintus was inside overseeing the other workers. Lucius handed him the bucket and watched as Quintus carefully picked up a specimen with his thick, beefy hands.
“Almost ready to harvest,” he said after squeezing one. “Next week, we’ll get everyone picking.” Then he turned to Lucius. “Grab a broom. We need to get this place cleaned up before then.”
Lucius swept the dust and cobwebs that had built up while the buildings were sitting unused. He scrubbed and cleaned wooden tables and the earthen ware, keeping his hands busy. But his mind was busier. He never for one moment forgot about his encounter with Helena Vibius.
It grew dark and he headed to his home, a small clay building with a thatched roof. It was time for the evening meal prepared by his mother and sister, and he released a breath of relief when he found that no one had come to seek him out.
He made polite conversation while eating his cornmeal bread with honey, and washing it down with lemongrass tea. A growing excitement stirred in him. He would go to the alcove tomorrow. Helena would meet him there, he was sure of it.
Chapter Three
HELENA
The brightness of dawn awoke Helena the next day. Her mind automatically went over her usual routine: A morning meal of cornbread and goat’s milk and then a visit with her father, once he returned from the senate discussions with his peers, in which he would answer whatever questions about life and the world she might pose.
Quickly, she sat upright. The boy who wanted to learn! Had she dreamed him?
Her heart beat rapidly as she called for her mother’s servant Annia to come assist her. She would go to him during her brothers’ afternoon studies, she decided. Even though she knew she absolutely should not, she would. Just once. The fresh air and exercise would be good for her. But she wouldn’t stay long. In fact, she would tell him with full assurance that she could never return.
If Annia was surprised by Helena’s choice of tunic, she wisely kept her expression blank. It wasn’t the plainer kind Helena usually wore. This one had gold cord ribbing that wrapped around her bosom and after Annia brushed Helena’s hair, she requested the servant twist her long auburn locks so they hung fashionably down her back.
The morning passed slower than usual, and when Helena met with her father, she found she was at a loss for a topic. What she wanted to talk about was the opposite sex, Lucius in particular, but neither subject could she dare to broach.
“Is your inquisitive mind on vacation today, my dear?” Brutus said with a tender smile.
“Oh, Father, I feel I have already asked every question I can think of you.”
“Don’t tell me this is about your desire for tutoring. Am I no longer able to fulfill your quest for knowledge?” He paused. “Perhaps I can arrange something.”
Normally, Helena would be ecstatic by Brutus’s change of heart, but if she were to be tutored, she couldn’t see Lucius.
Of course, she meant to only see him once.
“Maybe next week, Father? I’m not feeling quite myself today.”
Having spotted Annia heading toward the kitchen with her mother’s breakfast tray, the food yet again untouched, Helena sneaked upstairs to her mother’s bed chamber. Mother had yet to rise for the day, and like many other days, she would likely not show herself at all.
Helena tip-toed to the vanity, picked up her mother’s polished sheet of bronze and stared at her reflection. Was that what she looked like to Lucius? She selected a powdering brush and dusted her face with her mother’s white chalk. Then she used the charcoal pencil around her eyes. Not too much. She couldn’t risk the change in her looks being too drastic. She clipped on golden tear-drop earrings and then smiled with satisfaction. The image looked older now.
Then she frowned. How ridiculous that she wanted a servant boy to think she was pretty.
Finally, Gordian and Cassius returned from their daily duties, the midday meal was eaten and her brothers joined their tutor in the study hall. Marcellus was under the care of his nanny, playing quietly in his room. She waited for the anticipated silence of the villa to slip away, but to her consternation new voices came from the front hallway. Her friend Tatiana and Tatiana’s mother had dropped by. Helena suppressed a frown. Such unfortunate timing.
