“Good, Saul.”
As they entered the house, the first thing that caught Saul’s attention was the impluvium, the large pool that collected the rainwater from the opening in the ceiling. He’d heard people talking about it, but had never envisioned how big and beautiful it would be.
The water reflected on the walls the daylight coming from the ceiling, illuminating, and giving life to the paintings decorating the environment. He marveled at the effect, amazed by the richness of the details.
Colorful mosaics decorated the floor, and sunbeams spilling through high windows bathed most of the room in a warm light.
“Master, this is so beautiful,” he said, almost whispering. Caught up in admiration of the decorations, colors, and richness, he could not focus on a single detail.
Marcus Tiberius didn’t reply. He called someone.
At his call, two slaves arrived. “Yes, Master?” They looked at Saul with their eyes open wide.
“What’s that, Master?” the younger one asked.
Marcus Tiberius smirked. “This is my new slave. It will help me with the translations and travel with me as an interpreter. It will also be a companion for Flavius. Your duty is to make it look like a living creature and take particular care of the feet.
“Master, it will take an entire week. I hope the merchant hasn’t stolen your money,” the older one said.
He stared at her. “I want it ready for this evening.”
“Yes, Master, as you wish.” She took Saul by the hand. “Let’s go, whatever you are.”
Realizing he could speak freely to her as an equal, he took the chance to stand his ground. “My name is Saul, and I am a boy, not a thing.”
She laughed. “You’ve got some attitude. Off with that, son, or you might find yourself in trouble.”
They walked through the house until they reached a room with a large pool. Water streamed from one wall to the opposite one collecting into a pool placed in the middle.
The room was opened to a large inner garden, and finely decorated columns sustained its roof.
As the younger female slave gathered balsamic oils to massage Saul’s body and feet, the older one passed a hand through his hair, disappointed.
“How did you get that dirty?” she asked, mostly to herself.
Saul glanced at her and chuckled; she seemed to be very kind as she caressed his hair gently, remembering him of the times when his mother combed him.
He immersed his body in the water of the pool and started to scrub the dirt from his body, helped by the other two slaves.
After four baths, the older slave approved. “Well, what do you know? Now you resemble a boy. How old are you?” she asked as she patted his body with a soft cloth to dry him.
“I am eleven. What’s your name?”
“My name is usually too complicated for everybody to pronounce correctly, so let’s say that you can call me Nana. I mostly supervise the other slaves and the proper running of the house. When dirty, tiny things like you come in, I have to take care of them as well.” She started to comb his hair.
The younger one shook her head disconcerted. “Such a little child. I am Cassandra and help Nana with her tasks. Is your mother still alive? Where is your family?”
Saul sighed recalling the events, “we were brought here together from my homeland. I was the first one to be sold. I’m confused to understand what has happened to me.”
The tone of his voice turned a bit melancholic.
Cassandra remained silent and stood to gather clean clothes for him. It was the first time she’d seen such a young child brought into slavery. Until that moment, she had thought slaves had to be at least fourteen years old to be sold.
Cassandra felt glad for him; he was brought to a good house where their Masters behaved in a fair way toward them. For herself, she hoped one day to be set free to return to her village, hoped to find something left of her family and friends.
“Now, Saul, sit down and let’s have a look at your feet.” Nana’s gentle fingers examined them. “Our Master was right; they really look terrible… but the wounds are just superficial and with the right care, they will heal completely.”
“Ouch,” he yelped as she touched an open wound.
“Oh, did it hurt that bad?”
“A bit; you took me by surprise.”
She continued to massage them with a balm, which was believed to heal the wounds faster.
Cassandra came back carrying a pair of sandals, a tunic, and a loincloth. “Here you are, Saul. Now you’ll have clean clothes all the time,” she said as Nana continued to massage his body with oil, which had that earthy and woodsy aroma capable of soothing his senses.
He considered himself, happy to recognize the semblance he had when he was a free boy with his family.
His dark, wavy hair softly fell upon his shoulders, and his skin smelled fresh. The clean clothes wrapped around his body gave him revived sensations he thought were lost forever. Like a spell, those feelings were back for him—except he was a slave.
He had a Master who owned his body and soul; he wasn’t free anymore and probably never would be again.
“Look at yourself, son. You are so beautiful,” Nana said, proud of the results achieved.
“Maybe we can make you look even better.” Cassandra gathered his hair and bound it with a red ribbon from her own locks. “Our Master had an exceptionally good eye when he chose you. I would never have expected to find such an adorable creature beneath all that dirt.”
Nana smiled. “You’re right. Surely Master will be pleased with the result. You’re ready, Saul.”
“What kind of person is our Master’s son? I’ve understood I should be his companion,”
Nana replied, “Fear not; he is a kind person, as all our Masters are, so I think you won’t have any problem with being his companion. Neither do I think that you will ever find any difficulty in following Master Marcus Tiberius’ orders. He is a severe person, but never cruel or unfair. He expects the best service from us, but I can’t recall him punishing any of his slaves as much as it occurs in other Masters’ houses.”
“What is going to happen now?” he asked.
“Well, in this house, we have three Masters. You already met Marcus Tiberius, the man who bought you in the market square. Besides him, there is his wife, Mistress Flaminia, and their only son, Master Flavius.”
“First, we will go to Master Marcus Tiberius. If he thinks you are ready, he will introduce you to his wife, and eventually to their son. This is the way he likes it to be.”
She stood and walked him through the house, holding his hand in her own. As they crossed the garden, Saul saw a group of slaves sitting in a circle around a woman whom he guessed to be Mistress Flaminia.
The garden bloomed with flowers and plants he never saw in his life. It was extremely well kept, adorned with beautiful statues and fountains at every corner. He thought his Master had to be a wealthy man, and it reminded him of his home.
Saul came from a wealthy family, but they did not have slaves. He had never thought he would become a slave in Rome, a slave of the same culture that had fascinated him so much.
Immersed in his thoughts, he arrived at the working room where Marcus Tiberius kept himself busy, reading a few papers that were placed orderly on his desk.
“Master, your slave is ready,” Nana announced. He raised his eyes and looked at Saul, who kept his own lowered so as not to meet his Master’s gaze.
Saul felt the pressure of the moment, praying not to disappoint. His heart was beating faster, his hands started to feel damp with sweat, and he just wanted to be anywhere else but there under the scrutinizing gaze of his new Master.
Chapter 2.
Marcus Tiberius stood speechless. He couldn’t believe his eyes; nevertheless, there he was, that filthy creature barely identifiable as a human being he’d bought that morning, transformed into a godly creature.