Note: Chapter has been edited.
******
What did I do wrong now? Was it because I almost dozed off at my last lesson? Was it because I had not started my history assignment? If it was not for the dinner party, I would have started it. Every mistake and every infraction would be recorded and used against me. I was on trial, and I had not even set foot in the Basilica.
He gestured for me to come closer. My footsteps never felt so loud against the tiles.
Father began by saying I was a good student but that I was easily distracted. It was showing in my private sessions. He was "concerned" and thought that if given the chance to attend the Grammaticus classes with boys in my peer group, I could excel and reach my full potential.
I knew this day would come when I would join my peers in an actual school setting. While I was continuing my education, Barbarius' schooling was ending. The last year of his formal schooling consisted mostly of Greek philosophy. He was at the crossroads of his education. Anias told my father that if he desired, he could travel abroad to Greece to attend one of the best universities in Athens. But Father would not approve of the idea—not that Barbarius expressed a desire to attend anyway. Instead, he would study under the guidance of Father.
Meanwhile, Apollus was studying oratory at the Rhetoric school, where he would receive training in public speaking and the art of debate. I would get there too next year, but first I had to survive the Grammaticus. Anias assured me that the classroom shouldn't be too crowded. Only young men of means could attend.
My former Greek tutor Anias and my new slave traveled with me by chariot to my first day at the Grammaticus. That morning, passing horse-drawn wagons and slow-moving commoners congested the narrow roads. Towards the final stretch of the ride, Anias turned in his seat and said, "You understand that your father wants the best for you."
I nodded, looking down at my feet.
"You should be proud for taking this step in your education," he quipped. He was right. I should feel proud instead of the growing unease and anxiety that churned my stomach like butter. I should be proud. Even though it was not my choice, Father felt I needed to be around other boys my age, which would give me a competitive edge.
"I suppose you will not need me for primary instruction," he added. "Even though I will no longer be your instructor, you are always welcome to see me if you need additional help. I will see to it you get all your assigned readings from your new instructor," he said.
I sighed before turning in my seat to face him. "I will miss you." And I meant it. I would miss his patience as he took the time to answer my questions. I learned from an early age not to interrupt him. He hated that. He was not bashful about discipline either, so I learned to sit still and keep my mouth shut until directed to speak. Even though my brothers and I feared him at first, I learned to respect him. Even admire him. I learned so much from him. How to read, how to write, how to count, and how to speak and read Greek, which he was fluent in.
Then my body lurched forward before falling back into my seat. In front of us was a three-story building. I peered through the open doorway to find an assortment of tables and chairs. The ground floor looked more like a furniture shop than what I pictured a school to look like. My slave boy helped me out of the chariot before Anias handed him my wax tablet and stylus. I thanked him and trotted towards the building.
"Make sure you have your lunch with you," Anias called out.
"I do," I exclaimed, pointing to my slave boy's other hand, which held a sack of bread and other eatables.
"Make the Acertius family proud."
"I will try." Once inside the shop, I skirted past the rows of tables, stools, and stacked chairs still coated in sawdust. I hesitated outside the curtains towards the back of the shop. Behind the curtains was the voice of a man giving instructions in a thick Greek accent. After taking a deep breath, I pulled back the curtains and tiptoed into the classroom. A few familiar faces from the gymnasium were sprinkled around the classroom, including Marcus. One of the boys looked up from his tablet, and when he spotted me scouring the classroom, a small grin cracked his face. Romeus. It was as if he was silently inviting me to come take a seat, even though Julius and Silus already occupied space to his right and left. Realizing there was no seat in his row or any of the wooden benches, I paced to the front row, where I found an opening on the bench. With the instructor's back to the class, I scurried to the empty seat.
My buttocks barely grazed the bench when he turned around. "So good of you to join us, Troy. I have heard some things about you." I slumped in my seat. A lump formed in my throat at his fixed glare. I feared that Anias had shared his report with my new instructor. My tutor had warned me before we arrived that the teachers in a classroom setting were even stricter than him. Stricter? I thought about the times my brothers and I had private sessions with Anias before they were sent to higher schooling. Barbarius dreaded lessons the most as a child. With his pent-up vigor, he was restless for excitement. After several beatings, he eventually obliged to endure the long, tiring sessions and even did well, particularly in mathematics. I cringed at the thought of being flogged in front of the class for being late. I was already off to a horrid start.
He leaned in close enough that I could taste his breath. "Next time, come a little earlier to my class."
I almost fell backward trying to escape the garlic reeking from his mouth.
"Class, we have a new member. His name is Troy. Like Helen of Troy." All eyes fell on me as if I was an alien resident. "So, get acquainted with your new pupil," he continued in an upbeat tone. He spared me the rod. Thank the gods above I am the King's son!
"Now we will begin our lesson discussing the structure of language. We must observe the rules of grammar that govern our language in every facet of our writings, including literature. For instance, what is the case of the Greek work Aeneid, for instance?"
I had just studied that last week, but the answer eluded me now. As the instructor paced up and down the rows of benches, I looked back at Alexander. I wished he could sneak me a copy of my earlier grammar lessons, but they relegated him to sit in the back row with the other attendants.
The instructor strolled back to the front. I whipped out my stylus and etched the first thing to spring in my head onto the waxy surface. Some other boys were quick to raise their hands in the back while I covered the tablet with my hands.
"Troy, do you have an answer?" I froze at my instructor's words. "Surely you must have an answer for such a simple question."
"I think it was in the genitive case."
"You are right. Well done."
I sighed in relief.
"See, you knew the answer. Do not be afraid to say it."
I could feel my face blushing as my lips parted into a grin. I was lucky on that one!
"Does anyone remember the rhyme scheme of the poem we discussed the other day?" The teacher indiscriminately called on a round-faced pupil who looked no older than thirteen to recite the poem. Before he could finish reciting the verses, I immediately recalled the answer. A few hands went up. I thought about it and inscribed it on the tablet. I raised my hand.
"Yes, Troy?"
"What is the heroic hexameter?"
"Correct, and what is the proper name for it?" I scratched my head. What is he talking about? That was the answer.
"Silus?"
"The dactylic hexameter."
"Very well." I looked back at Silus with his head cocked back, smirking. Then I remembered Anias' advice on the way to class: "You are the son of proud leaders. Do what it takes to rise to the top of your class. Those at the top of their class are guaranteed admittance to study under the Rhetor at the Rhetoric School." I could not afford to let Anias or my father down again. I had to put away all distractions and focus on succeeding. So, I kept raising my hand to answer to the best of my ability. My teacher beamed at my responses, which helped lift my spirits from the negative report Anias wrote to Father. Silus must have taken notice because his hand would fly up even before the teacher could finish his question.
After a couple of hours of rigorous lectures and memorization assignments, the teacher dismissed us for the midafternoon break. As I exited the classroom, I saw Romeus and his brother linger to speak to Silus by the shop entrance. While the shopkeeper greeted customers, I approached the trio.
"Do you mind if I have lunch with you and Julius?"
Romeus turned to face me with a growing smile. "We were already going to be eating with Silus. But maybe you could join us." Silus, who was still talking to Julius, frowned.
Julius eyed Silus before turning towards me. "We were going to find local vendors by the market and see what fresh-cooked food we could find. Did you already have your lunch?" he asked. I turned to Alexander, who idled at the back of the shop. "Yes, my slave boy already brought my lunch to eat."
"Well, I suppose you would not want to wait around until we found something," Silus said. I shrugged. Considering that we had over an hour to eat and rest, time was not a big factor. Just then, the twins excused themselves by the doorway, debating about where to go.
"Maybe we could meet somewhere later," I suggested to Silus.
"Yes, you could meet us at the steps of the Forum where the statue of your father is."
"That will do. It is nice meeting you again, Silus. I hope maybe we can be good acquaintances."
"I suppose. Nice meeting you again, Prince Troy. Hopefully, you do not get lost."
With that, he walked off with Romeus and Julius to the street vendors across the road. I started heading to the Forum courtyard with my slave tagging along. Once I arrived, I plopped down at the tiered steps stretching along the line of shops and civic buildings. The slave took a seat next to me to hand over my lunch. From the corner of my vision, I could see the slave stealing glances at me as I ate.
After catching his eyes wandering near my food twice, I finally asked him, "What do you want?"
He kept silent.
I sucked on my bottom lip, spreading a glaze of honey over my tongue. "Did I spill something?"
He shook his head. Forget it. I kept on eating while scouring the growing throng that spilled into the open space before me for the twins. Then a gurgling noise erupted. My gaze dropped to my torso, but it was not coming from me. I put the slab of bread on my lap, only to find the slave clutching his stomach as it hissed and gurgled. It was the sound of hunger, something I knew very little about. How rude of me to eat in front of his face!
"Sorry. You must be hungry. Here," I said, extending a cluster of pomegranates. He looked at it with wary eyes as if it were poison. The thought of poisoning him seemed ridiculous, considering we had just bought him. My smile must have eased his mind because he reached over and took the whole cluster from my palm. He tilted the cluster to his mouth before gobbling several in rapid succession. When I offered a piece of baked bread, it only took him a few bites before he stuffed the rest of it in his mouth. As he swallowed the last of the bread, he wiped the crumbs from his beard and uttered, "Thank you."
His show of gratitude brought a smile to my face. He was not the uncivilized brute I first pictured him to be at the auction. He deserved more. I insisted he buy something from the vendors, but he said he was satisfied for now and that he was not given any allowance to buy anything. The money he carried was for me. When I offered to buy him something, his eyes lit up. I was a bit surprised though at how he devoured his food. Was he not always well-fed? Perhaps he was so busy trying to get me ready this morning that he wasn't allowed to eat. I quickly dismissed the thought and meandered through the Forum as the crowds ebbed and flowed amid the marble buildings. Where are Romeus, Julius, and Silus? I looked at the engraved sundial facing the steps of the Basilica. It was getting late. I decided the young fellows had made other plans without me.
*****
Anias was the first to greet me upon entering the atrium. "How was school, Troy?" he asked.
"It was informative," I said with a sigh.
He eyed with a tentative gaze. He was likely looking for a more enthused response but he was not going to get one from me. Not today.
"Did you make any friends?" Apollus asked from the couch.
"I did not go to make friends. I went because Father wants me to get a taste of the world around me and to learn from my peers," I replied.
"What did you learn?" Anias probed. I thought long and hard before replying. I had learned that instructors expect highly from you if you are the son of a king. Also, I learned that there is a proper answer for everything and that you cannot always tell who your friends are, at least in the beginning.
"We studied the importance of the precision of language in Greek poems and the structure of their stanzas, which we are to memorize." I turned to Apollus. "What did you learn, Apollus?"
He sat up from the couch. "We debated whether certain reading materials should be banned or accessible to all. I believe it is a foolish thing to let the masses be aware of everything. Some knowledge if put in the wrong hands can be very dangerous. Would you not agree?" he asked, looking me in the eye. I did not know what to say. Surely it was good that there were divisions among the classes and that only selected reading material that passed censorship was allowed. But what if that information was something that everyone needed to know? Should they still be deprived? Maybe it was better to pretend it did not exist.
"Yes, I could see the danger, but..." Father had just walked into the room. I cleared my throat.
"What are you boys discussing among yourselves?" Father inquired.
"Just discussions we have had at school," Apollus answered with a smile.
"Very well. Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner along with some news I need to share."
Before dinner started later that evening, I washed up in our indoor latrine basin before joining everyone at the table. Dinner was delicious as usual with our choice of roasted veal, pomegranates, stuffed oysters, and sliced citrus fruits. Grandfather had joined us at dinner, along with the Diplomat and his aide. Neither of us wanted to bring up the subject we had discussed earlier. We thought it was best to leave it alone. I could not help but notice Barbarius' body tense as the Diplomat reached over near his plate to grab the goblet of wine. It was the natural distrust of who we called "outsiders." But because Father seemed to trust him, I reasoned I should trust him too. It was not long though before the Diplomat dismissed himself, his aide following at his heels. After the slaves served dessert, Father tapped his metal goblet to signal his announcement to us.
"As everyone is well aware, I am a busy man with many obligations. I realized it is time for one of my sons, the future successor, to assume the management of the villa which you will eventually inherit along with the private practice of winemaking. I am leaving all three of you in charge of the villa. Barbarius, as the oldest, I entrust you with the utmost responsibility as head of the estate. I officially hand it over to you." With that, Father opened his fist to reveal a bone-shaped key.
I always suspected that Father favored Barbarius over us, but tonight he made it official. I looked over at Apollus, who stared at the key with wishful eyes.
"You are in charge, and your brothers are to answer to you." Father wrapped his arms around Barbarius as he whispered, "I am counting on you to prove you are a strong leader. Let me know if there is anything or anyone not in their proper place." I interpreted my father's words to mean that Barbarius would become his second pair of eyes. My hopes for our stay at the villa to be a relaxing escape were smashed to pieces.
As Father got up from the couch, Barbarius held the key to bask in the lamplight, which lay undisturbed at the table's center. I turned to Apollus. His eyes, a mixture of green and brown, glinted with envy.
"Can I see the key?" Apollus asked with a coy grin.
Barbarius gave his head a firm shake.
"It is not like I am going to take it. I just want to see it."
"No, Apollus. You can see it from a distance," he said, dangling the key from his fingertips.
Apollus rolled his eyes as he muttered, "Very well."
"We are finally treated like men from Father, and I will not give that up."
A holiday dedicated to the deities started the next day, so all students were off school, one of the few times classes were not held. It was nice to have a momentary day of rest when we could break away from the everyday routine. However, I was uncertain whether Father sent us off so as not to be bothered by us. Whatever the reason, I could not complain.
My slave began packing my belongings for the coming holiday break. I instructed him to pack my flute in case I might have time to practice it. The last time I played that rusty pipe was a year before. I loved music, but I doubted I could ever devote time to practice. Then there was a knock on the doorway paneling. I asked Alexander to see who it was. It was only Apollus' slave. Nobody important.
"Barbarius is about to load the carriage. You must leave at once, your Excellency."
"Very well." I nodded. I turned to Alexander. "Hurry now, and take these burlap sacks outside where they are stationed." With that, the slaves and I hurried out of my room. I barely had time to eat some bread and figs before I stepped outside where the four-wheel carriage waited for me. Apollus and Barbarius were already waiting beside it as the last few belongings were being loaded. I noticed though that Apollus had several bags, some of which looked heavy.
"Why are you carrying so much of a load? We are only staying for a few days."
"Because I want to look good and to see if I could have some of those fabrics tailored for new togas. Is that a problem?"
"Forget I asked," I mumbled. You are so vain!
Once everything was loaded, we said our farewells to Grandfather and Father even though they would come later to see how everything was going. As the horses trudged down the winding road, the trip began with an uncomfortable silence.
Apollus was the first to break the silence. "So, Father sent us on a vacation?"
"This is not a vacation," Barbarius answered in a brisk tone.
I knew it.
"Maybe not for you since you will not enjoy it much with your new responsibilities that include inspecting the vineyard," I said. "However, this is a time to relax, like the good times of the past." Whatever the real reason for the trip was, I was hoping to at least relax a little. Before long, I could see the villa looming ahead as the road dipped. This place brought back bittersweet memories. After the Quake ten years ago, we stayed here for about a year because it suffered only minor damage while our badly damaged home was repaired.
Once we arrived at the path leading to the entrance, Barbarius and I were the first ones out as our belongings were carried to our quarters.
"Carry my burlap bags over there," Apollus ordered my slave.
"All of these?" the slave asked, looking at the five huge bags in bewilderment.
"Yes, all of them. Is that a problem?" He shook his head as he struggled to carry the first three. I watched from the corner of my eye as I saw Apollus snickering at the slave.
"Can you not carry three at a time?"
The slave did not respond. He merely grabbed two as he swung them over his shoulders while Apollus' slave grabbed the others.
"Wait, there is a hole..." Apollus reached out to grab it.
The slave scrambled but missed as the clay vessels shattered into hundreds of pieces, flying out and hitting him in the foot.
"You are so clumsy and stupid!" Apollus snapped.
Alexander shook his head. "I am so sorry."
"It is too late! You broke my lamps. I told you there was a hole. Now Barbarius and I will have to put a hole in your face!"
"Please, I am so sorry. I will clean it for you, Master." As he stooped down to scoop the pieces into a pile, Apollus pushed him towards the shards of broken clay. He tipped over, spreading his hands out to brace his fall. The clay shards penetrated his skin upon impact, stabbing him dozens of times in his palms. Apollus laughed at the slave, who was wincing and clutching his hand with a clay piece still lodged in his palm. Blood pulsed in all directions from his hands. He staggered to his feet, dazed and frightened. Apollus motioned to shove him again when I jumped in between them.
"Stop! I believe he learned his lesson already."
"Get out the way, Troy. Since when did you become his guardian?" he hissed.
"In case you forgot, he is my slave. And you are being too harsh."
Apollus flicked his hand. "Since when did you care about his 'rights?'"
"Slaves do not have rights, Troy," Barbarius chimed in.
"Legally, they do not, but that was still mean."
Apollus rolled his eyes while Barbarius grunted.
"We have the right to punish them for misconduct!" Apollus countered, his tone rising.
"It was an accident. He will clean it up."
Apollus shook his head. "Are you really taking sides with the slave?"
Barbarius glared at me. His dark eyes matched the coldness of his next words. "It looks like he already did. I suppose Troy can clean the mess with him."
The slave tried to say something, but Barbarius silenced him with a shove that knocked him to the ground. He cupped his knees, now caked in blood and clay.
I scowled at my brothers. "Why do you have to act like that?"
Apollus heaved a sigh before exchanging an annoyed look with Barbarius. Apollus, who started this nonsense, kept silent. It was Barbarius who defended his actions as he pointed a finger at my face. "If you want to defend a slave, we will treat you like a slave."
I could feel my hands shake. My gut churned until my cheeks burned red. How could he dare utter something like that? I was mistreated by him before, but this was a new low even for him. I stood there, glaring at them as if fire could shoot from my eyes and consume them both. Each side, silently loathing, waited for the other to blink. Barbarius was the first to break his scowl, only to nod at Apollus. He turned to leave with Apollus trailing behind. It was a show of solidarity. While they sometimes were at each other's throats when they were younger, when they teamed up, they were powerful. Now they outnumbered me.
I reached into the back of the carriage and grabbed an empty sack. At first, the two slaves looked at each other, stunned. I held the bag open and requested they scoop the pieces, which they obliged without hesitation. Every so often, Alexander would stop to wipe his bloodied hands on his tunic. Scooping shards with bare hands when he was already bleeding was a horrible idea. He needed to stop the bleeding. I instructed Apollus' slave to grab a husk broom and find some nearby slaves to tend to his wounds.
Alexander stepped forward. "You do not have to do this. Others can help me." He was right. Other slaves stayed at the villa, but they were busy attending to other duties. Right now, at this moment, he needed help.
"No, I want to help you. It is the least I can do." Moments later, Apollus' slave rushed over with two more able-bodied men, each one carrying a husk broom. I thanked the first slave and held the bag open on the ground as he gently swept the shards in with the husk broom he found. With the other slaves busy sweeping, Alexander thrust the remaining shards onto the ground before walking off. Not a word to anyone. He left me stunned. Could he not at least say "thank you?" After all, I got in trouble because I was defending him, so he should have been thankful I intervened. Maybe he was a waste of my time. Maybe I should have let Apollus flog him. He was just another slave. Nobody that mattered. Now I had wasted my time defending him.
I stormed into the villa and retreated to the bedroom where I would sleep for the next three nights. Outside the window, I could hear Barbarius issuing orders to a group of slaves. I could not quite make out his words, not that I cared. Sometime later, a slave came to give me my parchment. There was no escaping schoolwork. I still owed Anias an essay, so I began writing until it was time for dinner. I was ready to hand the essay to the courier to deliver the assignment and be done with it.
The evening meal was a quiet affair. The only noise was the sound of shuffling plates and food being scraped and chewed. What I thought would be a dinner celebrating freedom was a somber affair. Then word came from the porter that a guest was arriving. Only Father was coming this time, and he was eager to know how things were coming along.
The first question he asked when he came to the dining hall to recline on the couch was, "So how is everything faring?"
Barbarius began first. "It went well. I had some slaves fix the broken gate and tend the vineyard, which is coming up nicely this spring. I hope we might have a greater yield than last year."
Father nodded. "Good. Were the slaves obedient?"
"Most of them," Barbarius replied.
"So, I assume everything went smoothly."
Barbarius looked straight at me. "Except for a little incident earlier, but the slaves finally complied," he said, wiping his mouth.
"What happened?" Father asked.
"Well," Apollus began, "the slave was unloading my belongings when he ripped a hole in my sack. I tried to tell him there was a hole, but he just stood there stupidly as the vessel fell and broke. I made him pick it up, but he fell and cut himself. Then Troy tried to defend the actions of the slave, saying he had 'rights.'"
"Is this true, Barbarius?" Father asked.
He nodded. As I feared, my brothers had conspired against me.
Father took a sip of his wine before responding. "I am not angry at either of you, but I expect each of you to handle any situation like men in authority, and most of you have done that. Can I speak to Troy alone?" He dismissed my two brothers from the table. Now it was just Father and I staring at each other across the table.
Perhaps I could take control of the narrative. I could even switch the topic to how I had penned a thoughtful essay on how history lives in the present. After all, my trip to the Baths gave me plenty of material to draw from. I could even comment on my instructor at the Grammaticus, who was pleased with my answers. But before I could open my mouth to change the subject—
"Troy, you are my youngest son," he began. "I know things have not been easy, but I would think by now you would be well-adjusted. You come from a line of strong, brave men who show no weakness. Your Roman mother and the Greek heritage from my father run in your blood, but remember that you still hold title to your Roman identity in this world even though you are a resident of Aegea. Embrace your role as a Mediator. But you need to be aware of the decisions you make and how they can help or hurt you. I wish you could be a strong leader too, capable of making good choices," he said wistfully. "But that is not the case... It disappointed me to hear what Apollus said."
"But Apollus is not telling the whole truth of what really happened and how he pushed him."
Father folded his arms over his chest. "So, you think Apollus was not justified in his actions?"
"Yes. Alexander made a mistake. He did not deserve to be pushed into the shards of broken clay. Nobody deserves that."
Father, who was reclining on some pillows, sat up. "Then maybe he will learn to be more careful next time."
I frowned. That was not the response I was hoping for. Alexander could be beaten till he was bloody and it still would not matter. I thought about the slaves we held in high regard, such as Odydus and Anias. I never saw them beaten or treated poorly. They were the dutiful slaves you could count on. But what if one day they made a mistake? Would they be treated with such contempt?
Father eyed me with unflinching eyes. "I granted you and your brothers authority over the villa. That includes the management of the slaves. But you are more worried about some slave's feelings than supporting your brother's judgment. You are a prince and they are slaves. You need to remind them of their station, not befriend them." He pushed a plate full of bones and crumbs to the edge of the table for a server to collect, but his eyes never shifted once from me. "Take note of your brothers. Barbarius knows not to show weakness and instead shows leadership. Apollus, too, shows exceptional speaking ability and can wield authority. Why is that so difficult for you to copy?"
"But I am not them, Father, and I never will be."
Father let out a loud sigh before giving his head a shake. "Sometimes I wonder if you really are my son."
My gaze dropped to my plate.
"Look, Troy, the last thing a father wants as a son is a weakling, someone who is incompetent, lacks good judgment, and bases his decisions on emotions." His words punched me in the gut. He gave life to my biggest insecurities. He confirmed everything about me I was afraid to admit aloud. I doubted that bringing up a few academic accomplishments was enough to redeem myself at this moment.
He leaned in closer to say, "Promise me you will not fail me."
I swallowed. "I promise."
"Good. Study Barbarius. He is your example. You will also resume yourphysical training sessions with your physical instructor, Cornelius." He rosefrom his seat and peeled back the curtains that shielded the dining hall fromthe hallway. Standing outside to greet him was Barbarius, who he patted on theshoulder. I stared at Barbarius, whose dark eyes warmed up at the sight ofFather. He was the oldest, strongest, and tallest among us brothers. And here Iwas, the very opposite. It was one of those times when I felt something waswrong with me, that I was deficient.No matter what I do, I would never gainthe approval of my father. But maybe tomorrow I could prove him wrong.