Skaia (4 page)

Skaia took a deep breath and looked in Thaddeus’ eyes. Tears were streaming down his little face, but he obeyed. Thaddeus wiped the small amount of blood from the whip with his fingers and smeared it on Skaia’s lips. Meekly, the boy licked it away and, when he looked up, Thaddeus was smiling. “Thank you, Master,” Skaia whispered and looked down again, his breath beginning to hitch with sobs.

Thaddeus stroked the child’s head, thinking the lesson had been learned. “You’ve been a good boy today, Skaia. I’m sure we’ll have no more problems.” He turned to Castor and handed him the whip. “You have my permission now to punish him as you would any of the others. Teach him that he
must
obey, Castor.”  Thaddeus was about to leave when Skaia sobbed again. He looked back and spoke more softly to the older slave. “Take care of him now. Ease his pain to the extent you can.”

Castor bowed, grateful for the kindness. Thaddeus continued to watch the child for a moment and seemed to consider. “Send the boy to my room later tonight. After my dinner guests have left. I will test him one more time to be sure I’m satisfied.”

“
Yes, Master.” Castor unhooked the chain and held the sobbing child in his arms. He sincerely hoped Skaia had learned that he must not displease Thaddeus again.

II

After undoing the chains, Castor picked up the child’s tunic and led Skaia, still naked, to the washroom off the kitchen, pleased that the boy had not protested—and that he had finally stopped crying. After Castor had washed his bloodied back and applied the soothing salve, he spoke softly. “Do you feel better now?”

Skaia turned and looked at him, having no idea what he said. “Have clothes?” the child queried in his strangely accented voice.

Castor canted his head in confusion. “What?”

Skaia’s eyes shifted to the tunic that Castor had brought with him. “Can I have? Please.”

Ah—the child wanted to cover his nakedness.
“Not yet, Skaia,” he replied. “First, you must wash. Do you understand?”

“
Wash,” Skaia repeated, picking up the cloth Castor had used and beginning to rub his arm. He looked to Castor to see if he was right.

The older slave smiled. “Yes, that’s it. Wash.” When Castor left for the kitchen, he was almost elated that they had actually communicated. It happened far too infrequently. Coming back a little later, he found Skaia sitting on the small bench, his tunic held across his lap. “Stand,” Castor ordered.

This command Skaia knew well, and he obeyed immediately. Castor took away the tunic and felt at the boy’s small genitals. When he was satisfied the boy was clean enough in front, he told Skaia to turn and felt between his buttocks. The boy’s muscles tensed as if trying to deny him entry. Castor didn’t hesitate—he struck the boy’s backside with his hand. When the child whimpered, he ignored it. “Do you want to be whipped again, little fool?” he hissed.

“
No, sir,” Skaia replied quickly in a trembling voice.

“
Then stop fighting me. I have permission to whip you now if you cause me trouble.”

Skaia nodded, though all he understood was that Castor was angry. And that he might be whipped again. He stood still and let Castor do what he would. When the man was satisfied that the youngster was clean enough, he handed Skaia a fresh tunic. “Never deliberately dirty your clothes again,” he warned. He held up the old tunic, pointing to where it was stained with blood. “Never.”

“
Yes, sir,” the boy whispered. “I sorry.”

Castor commanded him to dress and to continue with his sweeping. There were tears in Skaia’s eyes, but he obeyed without speaking again. To his surprise, Castor felt a burning sensation in his own eyes as he watched the child walk away. He truly disliked being so hard on someone this young. But if the youngster would be ready in time for Glaucus’ birthday, he thought such harshness was required. He sighed as Skaia disappeared from view, and returned to his own duties.

As darkness settled, Skaia saw Gotus, one of the slaves who shared his sleeping cell, walking toward the kitchen and realized it must be time to eat. He took his usual place on the bench at the long table, eating very little and waiting to be sent to the underground cells, wanting only to disappear and rest. But when the others were dismissed, Castor held him back. He continued to sit quietly, staring at his knees, while the kitchen women cleared the table and washed the dishes. He looked up occasionally, hoping Castor would come for him and send him to bed.

The women had left, and some of the clay lamps had burned out, before Castor returned and called Skaia to come with him. “The master wants to see you before he sleeps,” he explained. “Obey him, Skaia,” Castor warned. “Do not make him angry again.”

The child looked up and nodded, thinking he understood.

As they walked through parts of the house that Skaia had not seen before, the boy looked around curiously. There were many torches in the walls that lit the passageways, casting enough light that Skaia could see the vivid murals. They were shocking to the child, portraying men and women having sex, and men penetrating young boys.

For just a moment, Skaia stopped to stare at them, but Castor pulled him forward by the arm, and pushed him gently against the wall. “You don’t realize it yet, Skaia, but you’ve come to a very good house.” The boy’s eyes met his earnestly, trying to grasp what was being said. “Our master is a good man,” Castor sighed. “Do you understand that much?”

“
Master good. You think. I understand.”

Castor touched Skaia’s head, rubbing his hair gently. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“
Not understand
believe
,” Skaia answered, trying to pronounce the unknown word properly.

Castor tried again. “Do
you
think our master is good?”

Skaia shook his head. “He beat me.”

Smiling at the child’s serious voice, Castor replied, “But it was just a little beating, Skaia. In other households, you would have been hurt much worse.” When it was obvious Skaia had no idea what he’d said, Castor simply patted his head. “I know you don’t understand me. I’ll ask Master Thaddeus if I can get help for you.”

Castor knew that the boy was struggling to come to terms with speaking in a new tongue. And there was no way to help him tonight. He wished the master had not called for the boy, but there was no choice other than compliance. He thought Thaddeus would not hurt the child again. He insisted on obedience, but usually, as soon as his point was made, he let it go. “Be a good boy, Skaia. Obey Master Thaddeus.”

Moving away, ready to open the door, Castor looked down when Skaia reached out to touch his arm.

“
Thaddeus?” the boy asked. “Master is Thaddeus?”

It was more complicated than that, and hardly something Castor could explain to Skaia in just a few moments. “Yes, our master is Thaddeus.”

Skaia nodded. “Thank you.”

Castor opened the door that admitted them.

There was a separate antechamber, small and dark, where a personal slave, had Thaddeus kept one, might be expected to sleep. They walked through it, into a sitting area, with two couches, several benches, a large desk, a standing chest and a small table. Several tall candles stood on large stands, although only a few were lit, casting the room with eerie shadows. Skaia looked around as best he could before Castor pulled him to a final room.

The bedroom. Here, there were only a few clay oil lamps lit, but Skaia could still see the large bed and the two wooden chests, one tall and narrow, the other lower and long. And at least parts of the pictures painted on the smooth walls.
A farm scene,
he thought. Fields of gracefully arching plants, an area of trees and a flowing river.

Castor lit some large candles, revealing more of the room to the boy.

The flickering light showed the floor, which was crafted in a colorful tile mosaic pattern, which drew Skaia’s eye immediately, and Castor smiled as he remembered his own similar reaction the first time he had seen it.

Most Roman houses kept their grandest artwork in public places, but Thaddeus had wanted this scene in his bedroom when he inherited it from his father. A continuation of the farm scene, concentrating on the plants and birds near the river.

Taking Skaia over to a rug at the foot of the bed, Castor had him kneel. Then he hooked a chain that was attached to the bed to Skaia’s collar.

The rug, too, was an oddity. Few wealthy patricians who could afford mosaic tile work ever covered their floors, but Thaddeus had kept the rug, even after Thane, his personal slave who had usually slept on it, died. Castor remembered Thaddeus’ fondness for Thane and his grief when he died.
Perhaps the rug was a way for Thaddeus to remember him…

“
The master will be here later,” Castor said softly as he turned to walk away. “Wait for him.” He could see the tension in the small shoulders, but he had no choice other than to leave the frightened boy. And hope for the best.

Thaddeus dined with two of his closest friends, Flavius and Antius, as well as his father. They spoke of many things. The gladiatorial games they would attend tomorrow, the horses they hoped to see in a few days when the dealer made it to the outskirts of Rome. And, of course, schooling for their children.

At Paulinus’ suggestion, they had already decided to remove their sons from the school they attended, and to pool their resources and purchase Greek tutors. Antius had acquired his recently, an older man well versed in Greek classical literature and history. Thaddeus and Flavius would visit his home tomorrow before the games to meet the slave, and be assured they found him acceptable.

If all went according to plan, Thaddeus would find someone skilled in mathematics and sciences while Flavius would seek one skilled in law and public speaking.

“
Do you want to come, too, Father?” Thaddeus asked. “You have more knowledge of such things than the rest of us. And afterwards, we could all go to the games together.”

Paulinus shook his head. “I have not enjoyed the games for many years now. And I will meet this Greek later. I’m sure Antius has chosen wisely. I think I may spend some time with young Skaia tomorrow. I understand he had a very hard day.”