The Roman (47 page)

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Legally, right was on their side for the King, who had not been able to read or write, had in fact had a will drawn up in which he left his land to the Emperor, thinking that in this way he was securing the position of his widow and daughters against the envy of the Iceni noblemen. The Icenis had from the beginning been allies of the Romans, although they had no special love for them. After the arrival of the reinforcements, a decisive battle was [ought and the Britons, led by this vengeful woman, were defeated. The Romans avenged Boadicea�s brutalities to Roman women, whom, because of the insult she had suffered, she had allowed her people to treat abominably. Soon a stream of British slaves began to arrive in Rome�admittedly only women and half-grown boys, for adult Britons are useless as slaves�and much to the people�s disappointment, Nero had forbidden the use of prisoners-of-war in the battles in the amphitheater. One lovely day I was visited by a slave dealer who was dragging a ten-year-old boy by a rope. He behaved secretively, winking repeatedly at me in the hopes that I would send any witnesses out of the room. Then he lengthily complained of the bad times, his innumerable expenses and the shortage of willing buyers. The boy looked around with angry eyes �This young warrior,� explained the slave dealer, �tried to de fen his mother with his sword when our incensed legionaries raped and killed her. Out of respect for the boy�s courage, the soldiers did not kill him but sold him to me. As you see from his straight limbs, his fine skin and green eyes, he is of noble Iceni descent. He can ride, swim and use a bow and arrow. Believe it or not, he can even write a little too and he speaks a few words of Latin. I�ve heard it said that you might like to buy him and pay me more than if I offered him for sale in the slave market.� �Whoever told you that?� I exclaimed in surprise. �I�ve more than enough slaves. They make my life intolerable and deprive me of my own freedom, not to mention real wealth, which is solitude.� �A certain Petro, an Iceni physician in the service of Rome, recognized the boy in London,� said the slave dealer. �He gave me your name and assured me you would pay me the highest price for the boy. But who can trust a Briton? Show your book, boy.

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He cuffed the boy over the head. The boy rummaged in his belt and drew out the remains of a torn and dirty Chaldaean-Egyptian book of dreams. I recognized it as soon as I touched it, and my limbs and joints dissolved into water. �Is your mother�s name Lugunda?� I asked the boy, although I knew the answer. Petro�s name alone confirmed that the boy was my own son whom I had never seen. I wanted to take him in my arms and acknowledge him as my son, although there were no witnesses available, but the boy hit me in the face with his fist and bit my cheek. The slave dealer�s face darkened with rage arid he fumbled for his whip. �Don�t hit him,� I said. �I�ll buy the boy. What�s your price?� The slave dealer looked at me appraisingly and again spoke of his outlays and losses. �To be rid of him,� he said finally, �I�ll sell him at the lowest price. A hundred gold pieces. The boy is still untamed.� Ten thousand sesterces was an insane price to pay for a half- grown boy when bedworthy young women were on offer in the market for a few gold pieces. It was not just the price, for naturally I should have paid an even higher one if necessary, but I had to sit down and think hard as I looked at the boy. The slave dealer misunderstood my silence and began to speak for his goods, explaining that there were several rich men in Rome who had acquired eastern habits and for whom the boy was of a choice age. But he lowered his price, first to ninety and then to eighty gold pieces. In fact I was only wondering how I could make the purchase without my son becoming a slave. A formal purchase would have to be made at the tabellarium, where the contract would be confirmed and the boy would have to be branded with my own symbol of ownership, MM, after which he would never again be able to gain Roman citizenship, even if he were freed. �Perhaps I could have him trained as a charioteer,� I said at last. �The Petro you mention was in fact a friend of mine when I was serving in Britain. I trust his recommendation. Couldn�t we arrange it so that you give me a written certificate to say that Petro, as the boy�s guardian, has assigned to you the task of bringing him here for me to look after him?� The slave dealer gave me a sly look.

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�I am the one who has to pay the purchase tax on him, not you,� he said. �I can�t really knock off any more from the price.� I scratched my head. The matter was very involved and could easily have appeared to be an attempt to circumvent the high tax on slaves. But I might as well benefit in some way from my position as son-in-law to the City Prefect. I put on my toga and the three of us set off for the temple of Mercury. Among the people there, I soon found a citizen who had lost his rank of knight and who, for a reasonable sum, agreed to stand as the other necessary witness to the oath. Thus a document could be drawn up and confirmed with a double oath. According to this, the boy was a freeborn Briton whose parents, Ituna and Lugunda, had been killed in the war because of their friendship for Rome. Through the mediation of the physician Petro, they had sent their son to the security of Rome in good time, to have him brought up by their guest and friend, the knight Minutus Lausus Manilianus. In a special clause it was stipulated that I, as his guardian, should hold a watching brief for his inheritance in the Iceni country when peace was finally declared in Britain. This strengthened my case to some extent, for the Mercury priests took it that I had something to gain from the boy at the distribution of war spoils. �What shall we put down as his name?� asked the notary. �Jucundus,� I said. It was the first name that came into my head. They all burst into relieved laughter, for the sullen boy was anything but a picture of sweetness. The priest said that I was going to be hard put to make a good Roman of him. The drawing up and sealing of the deeds and the customary gift to the Mercury priests came to a considerably larger sum than the purchase tax would have done. The slave dealer began to regret the deal and took me for a cleverer purchaser than I in fact was. He had already taken his oath, however, but in the end I paid him the hundred gold pieces he had at first asked, just to be rid of him without further ado. When we finally left the temple of Mercury, the boy unexpectedly thrust his hand into mine as if he felt lonely in the everyday noise and bustle of the street. I was seized with a strange feeling

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as I held his small hand and led him home through the jostling city of Rome. I thought of the possibility of acquiring Roman citizenship for him when he was older, and then adopting him if I could persuade Sabina to agree. But those problems would come later. Nevertheless, I had more trouble than joy from my son Jucundus. At first he would not even speak and I thought the horrors of war had turned him dumb. He smashed many objects in the house and refused to wear the clothes of a Roman boy. Claudia made no headway with him at all. The first time Jucundus saw a Roman boy of his own age outside the house, he rushed at him and beat him over the head with a stone until Barbus managed to intervene. Barbus suggested a severe beating, but I thought one should try more gentle methods first and spoke to the boy myself. �I�m sure you are mourning your mother�s death,� I said. �You were dragged here with a rope around your neck like a dog. But you aren�t a dog. You must grow up and become a man. We all wish the best for you. Tell us what you would like to do most?� �Kill Romans!� cried Jucundus. I sighed with relief, for at least the boy could speak after all. �You can�t do that here in Rome,� I said. �But you can learn Roman customs and habits and one day perhaps I can make you into a Roman knight. If you stick to your plans, you can return to Britain when you are older and kill Romans in the Roman way. The Roman art of war is better than the British, as you yourself have seen.� Jucundus sulked, but my words had perhaps some effect on him. �Barbus is an old veteran,� I went on craftily, �even if his head does shake. Ask him. He can tell you about battles and warfare much better than I can.� So, Barbus once again had the opportunity to tell the story of the time when he had swum fully equipped across the Danube between the ice floes with a wounded centurion on his back. He could show his scars and explain why unconditional obedience and a hardened body were the inescapable foundations for efficiency as a warrior. He acquired a taste for wine again and he wandered about Rome with the boy, taking him to bathe in the Tiber and teaching him to express himself pungently in the Latin of the people.

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But Barbus was also troubled by his wild temper and one day took me to one side. �Jucundus is a bright boy,� he said, �but even I, hardened old man that I am, am horrified by his descriptions of what he is going to do to both Roman men and women one day. I�m afraid he witnessed terrible things when the Britons� rebellion was crushed. The worst of it is, he keeps rushing up the slopes to shout curses over Rome in his barbaric language. In secret he worships gods of the underworld and sacrifices mice to them. It�s quite obvious that he is possessed by evil powers. Nothing will come of his upbringing until he is freed of his demons.� �How can we do that?� I asked doubtfully. �Cephas of the Christians is a great one for driving out demons,� said Barbus, avoiding my eyes. �He�s the cleverest man I�ve ever met at that sort of thing. At his command, a raving man becomes as gentle as a lamb.� Barbus was afraid I would be angry, but on the contrary, I thought that for once it might prove of some use that I put up with Christian meetings and meals in my house and allowed my slaves to believe what they liked. When Barbus saw that I was in favor, he eagerly began to tell me that Cephas, with the help of his pupils who knew Latin, was teaching children humility and obedience to their parents. Many citizens who were troubled by young people�s increasing lack of discipline sent their children to their holy day school, at which, in addition, the instruction was quite free. Several weeks later, Jucundus came running up to me of his own accord, seized my hand and dragged me into my room. �Is it true?� he said. �That there�s an invisible kingdom and that the Romans crucified the king? And that he�s coming back any time now, and then he�ll throw all the Romans into the fire?� I thought the boy showed sound judgment in not immediately believing what he was told, but coming to me for confirmation. At the same time, however, I was put in an awkward position. �It�s true the Romans crucified him,� I said cautiously. �On a notice on the cross it said that he was the king of the Jews. My father saw it happen with his own eyes at the time and he still maintains that the sky darkened and the mountains were rent when he died. The leading Christians think he�ll come back quite

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soon. And it�s about time, for it�s over thirty years since his death now.� �Cephas is an Archdruid,� said Jucundus. �He�s more powerful than the Druids of Britain, although he�s a Jew. He demands all sorts of things, just like the Druids. One must wash oneself and wear clean clothes, one must pray, tolerate insults, turn the other cheek if someone hits one, and he�s got other tests of self-control too, just like Petro. And we have secret signs too, by which the initiated recognize each other.� �I�m sure Cephas does not teach you any ill,� I said, �and the exercises he asks of you demand great strength of will. But you must realize that all those are secrets. You mustn�t talk about them to anyone.� Pretending the utmost secrecy, I took my mother�s wooden goblet out of the chest and showed it to Jucundus. �This is a magic goblet,� I told him. �The king of the Jews himself once drank from it. Now we�ll drink from it together, but it is so secret that you mustn�t ever tell anyone, not even Cephas.� I mixed wine and water in the goblet and we drank from it together, my son and I, in the dimly lit room. I had the impression that the liquid did not lessen in the goblet, but it was only an illusion caused by the poor lighting. I was seized with a great tenderness and I suddenly realized, as if in a vision, that I must tell the truth about Jucundus to my father, in case anything should happen to me. Without further ado, we set out for Tullia�s fine house on Viminalis. Jucundus behaved perfectly and looked around with wide- open eyes, for he had never seen such a magnificent private house. Senator Pudens, who was Cephas� patron, lived in an old- fashioned way and I had not made any alterations to my house on Aventine, although it had become very cramped over the years. To rebuild it would have upset Aunt Laelia. I left the boy with Tuffia and shut myself up with my father in his room to tell him all about Jucundus. To tell the truth, I had not seen my father for a long time. I felt pity for him when I saw how bald and round-shouldered he had become, but of course he was already over sixty. He listened to me without comment and without once looking straight at me. Finally he spoke. �The destinies of fathers appear in distorted forms in their

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Sons,� he said. �Your own mother was a Greek from the islands and your son�s mother was a Briton from the Iceni tribe. In my youth, I was dragged into a shameful scandal of poisoning and falsifying a will. I have heard such terrible things about you that I cannot really believe them. I have never been especially pleased about your marriage to Sabina, even if her father is the City Prefect, and I have no desire to go and see the son she has borne you, your Lausus, for reasons I need hardly explain to you. What spark of wisdom made you have Jucundus brought up by Cephas? Cephas and I have been acquainted since the days of Galilee. He is less brusque and excitable than he was then. What plans have you for the boy�s future?� �It would be best,� I said, �if I could get him into the school on Palatine where famous orators and pupils of Seneca train the sons of our allied kings and the provincial nobility. His wretched Latin would not attract attention there. He could make useful friends among his contemporaries, if only Cephas can subdue him a little first. When the administration of Britain is reorganized, there will be a need for a new Romanized aristocracy. The boy is of noble Iceni stock on the distaff side. But for some reason, Nero does not want to see me at the moment, although we are friends.� �I am a member of the Senate,� said my father after a moment�s thought, �and I have never before begged a favor of Nero. I have also learned to keep my mouth shut in the Senate, which is more due to Tullia than to me, as I have lived with her during all these years and she has always had the last word. The situation is very confused and the records in Britain have been destroyed, so a clever lawyer could easily find evidence that the boy�s parents had received Roman citizenship in return for their services. It should be even easier as his father is not known. And it wouldn�t even be distorting the truth if you once went through a British form of marriage with his mother. Your own mother has a statue outside the Council House in Myrina. You could pay for a statue of your Lugunda in the Claudius temple when Colchester is rebuilt. I consider you owe that to the mother of your son.� The strangest thing of all was that Tullia meanwhile had become quite enchanted by Jucundus and could not do enough for him. In spite of her strenuous efforts, her plump beauty had begun to fade and her chins had become a wrinkled bag. When