Aquila Et Noctua

by P J Mann

  Aquila et Noctua

  P. J. Mann

  Copyrights © 2019 by P. J. Mann. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN: 978-952-69159-9-9

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Acknowledgment

  I would like to thank all the people who accepted to read my novel, giving me precious suggestions on how to improve it, and those who reviewed it. A special thank goes anyway to author Glory Wade. Her mentorship has been essential, not only for this novel but for my growth as an author. Glory Wade is a brilliant wordsmith, with a keen eye for detail, and I am honored to have her on my list of friends.

  You can follow her here:

  https://glorywade.com/about/

  Foreword

  This novel is a work of fiction; however, there are historical references to a particular period, and some clarification has to be made. The novel starts with the end of the third Jewish war (135 CE).

  In 70 CE, Jerusalem had been completely sacked by Emperor Vespasian's eldest son Titus. The Romans wrapped up a horrifyingly bloody suppression of the Second Jewish Revolt (ca. 66 CE), which ended in 73 CE at the final siege at Masada. The city was razed to the ground after it, and the all-important Temple was looted. People still inhabited the ruins, and the Jews still lived in Judaea.

  In 129/130 CE, Hadrian promised the Jews he would rebuild Jerusalem. His promise initially excited them, until they learned the truth; the Romans were rebuilding the city as Aelia Capitolina, complete with a temple to Jupiter. The process started with plowing the land, which distressed the Jews. To till the holy land of Jerusalem was forbidden. This launched the Third Jewish War, led by Simon bar Kochba, who styled himself as the Messiah (this also distanced the Jewish Christians from the Jews, as the Christians already believed Jesus was their Messiah). Many people died during the war (~580k in its suppression). Afterward, due to the history of rebellion, Hadrian decided to merge Judaea with Syria and called the entire province, Syria Palaestina.

  Whether Hadrian named the city Aelia Capitolina before or after the revolt is ambiguous. Cassius Dio says that is the cause for the rebellion, but Eusebius claims it was done in tandem with the provincial renaming. Regardless of the order, Hadrian's name change sought to remove the Jewish identity from the land. Jews and Christians were banned from the region afterward, and from then on, it was mostly known as Palaestina and Aelia Capitolina, instead of Judaea and Jerusalem. Jewish sources still called it the Land of Israel, though.

  I have placed the renaming of the city of Jerusalem in Aelia Capitolina as claimed by Eusebius, in tandem with the Provincial renaming after the conflict.

  Sources: Ariel Lewin- “The Archaeology of Ancient Judaea and Palestine”

  Peter Schäfer- “The Bar Kochba War Reconsidered”

  Ronald Syme- “The Wrong Marcius Turbo” in the Journal of Roman Studies

  Cassius Dio 69.12-15

  Glossary.

  Atrium: The atrium was the most important part of the house, where guests were greeted. The atrium was open in the center, surrounded at least in part by high-ceilinged porticoes that often contained only sparse furnishings to give the effect of a large space. In the center was a square roof opening called the compluvium in which rainwater could come, draining inwards from the slanted tiled roof. Directly below the compluvium was the impluvium.

  Impluvium: An impluvium was basically a drain pool, a shallow rectangular sunken portion of the Atrium to gather rainwater, which drained into an underground cistern. The impluvium was often lined with marble, and around which usually was a floor of small mosaic.

  Exedra: The exedra was a large, elegant room usually located off the peristyle garden. It was used for formal entertainments and lavish dinner parties.

  Peristyle garden (garden): The peristyle garden, was an open courtyard within the house; the columns or square pillars surrounding the garden supported a shady roofed portico whose inner walls were often embellished with elaborate wall paintings of landscapes.

  Couch (lectus): The lectus, or couch, or bed, was perhaps the most important item of Roman-style furniture. Used for sleeping, sitting, relaxing or eating, the lectus was a wooden frame supporting crisscrossed leather straps that held a mattress stuffed, originally with straw, and later with wool or feathers.

  Exedra: The exedra was a large, elegant room usually located off the peristyle garden. It was used for formal entertainments and lavish dinner parties.

  Sestertius (pl. Sestertii): was an ancient Roman coin. During the Roman Empire, it was a large brass coin.

  Chapter 1.

  The sun shone brightly in the sky on that late summer day. The successful campaign in the territories of Palestine brought new glory to the Empire and filled every corner of the city with celebrations.

  The massive military action, planned by Emperor Hadrian, had brought about the final defeat of the rebellious Jews in the third Jewish revolt.

  Jerusalem was renamed Aelia Capitolina in honor of the victorious emperor and as an ultimate humiliation to the rebels. The prisoners were sent all over the Empire to be sold as slaves while the Roman generals and commanders were decorated in the public square of the Forum.

  It was a joyful period throughout all of Rome, and it should have been no exception for Marcus Tiberius Numida. However, something weighed heavily on his mind and alienated his soul from the revelry.

  He wandered through the streets of Rome, not paying attention to where he was going, until he found himself in the slave market in the Forum.

  Several specimens of males and females, crammed into cages, peered from between the bars, waiting to be yanked out and pushed to line up behind the merchant. Their eyes revealed fear and confusion.

  Each merchant touted the good properties of each slave they were selling, wildly gesticulating to underline their words to attract customers, as crowds of curious people and potential buyers gathered around.

  The sobs of the waiting slaves and the clang of their chains against the bars, combined with the din of the curious onlookers and the raucous voices of the merchants. The stench of bodily fluids melded with the scent of food that was sold in the square.

  Most of the slaves wore dirty rags that barely covered their bodies; others were completely naked.

  Marcus Tiberius looked around absentmindedly. He was not interested in buying a slave, but an eleven-year-old boy caught his attention. He stood in a composed, almost haughty way.

  His eyes, swollen from tears, showed confusion, fear, and despair. Every time he turned his head to look at the main cage to look at his family, the merchant snarled and hit him to face the throng.

  Despite his ragged clothes and the coat of grime on his body, he stood erect with a defiant flash in his brown eyes.

  Whoever buys it will have to spend a lot of time washing it to see what hides underneath, he smiled.

  The merchant seized the opportunity to seal the first deal of the day. “Can it be that Marcus Tiberius Numida is interested in a purchase?”

  Marcus Tiberius turned his gaze toward him, a bit upset to be disturbed from his thoughts.

  “It is hard to believe that this little thing could be of any interest to anyone, especially when its filthiness does not allow one to see what it looks like. What is it, a male or a female?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.

  With a sudden move, the merchant ripped away the cloth covering the child’s body. “He is a male, as y
ou can see.”

  Marcus walked steadily toward the little boy. When he was close enough, he looked deep into his eyes and then started to examine him thoroughly.

  He opened his mouth and looked at his teeth; they were perfect.

  On close inspection of the slave’s body structure, he noted the strong, perfectly proportioned body, not ruined by the barbaric circumcision practiced by the Jews.

  Marcus Tiberius smiled, satisfied, and took the boy’s little hands in his own; he felt them, beyond the dirt, unexpectedly soft and delicate. He looked down at the bare feet, swollen and bleeding.

  It occurred to him that they had never walked without shoes before and probably would require time and care to recover fully.

  “This one has probably never worked in its entire life. How could it be useful?” he asked.

  The merchant smiled broadly, showing his teeth. “Oh, but this slave is a remarkable one. Despite its age, it is quite educated; it can write and read,” He placed his hands on his protruding belly.

  “And how much are you asking for it?”

  “2500 Sestertii.”

  In silence, Marcus Tiberius scrutinized the boy from head to feet, then burst out laughing. “2500 Sestertii for this little thing? Today the sun must be too hot. Either that or you’ve gone crazy. Say 1000, and I’ll buy it,” he looked at the boy whose defiance seemed to turn into fear of something he could not forecast.

  ***

  The little boy considered his situation, why do they talk about me like I’m not even here? I have never been so shamed before; like a horse at the market.

  The large chain that enclosed his neck was heavy and hurt his shoulders; he looked at himself and thought that he had never been that dirty.

  Before he was brought to Rome, his skin glistened with the aromatic oil his mother used to massage his body with.

  His hair used to be clean and combed, held by ribbons. His clothes were tailored with the finest fabrics, and he wore sandals to protect his feet.

  The boy closed his eyes as he recalled that picture and those feelings, but desperation replaced the memory as he realized that those times were gone, and they didn’t belong to his life anymore.

  Then, he turned his gaze and looked back at his mother and father in the cage. He could not see his little sister. Maybe she is behind them.

  He glanced at Marcus Tiberius, almost begging to be purchased, when the merchant slapped him. “Look down, slave, you are not worthy of looking a Roman straight into his eyes,” he yelled.

  The little boy lowered his gaze immediately without making any sound.

  Marcus Tiberius smiled lightly. “Do you understand my language?”

  “Yes, Sir,” he replied, keeping his gaze lowered.

  “Which other languages can you speak?”

  “Greek and Aramaic, Sir. I have been introduced to the principles of mathematics and philosophy too. I’ll be helpful if you buy me, Sir.”

  Impressed, Marcus Tiberius looked at the boy as if wondering whether he was telling the truth. “Are you lying?” he asked, fixing the boy with a fierce stare.

  He could not verify whether the boy was telling the truth. Once the purchase was made, it would be difficult to return the slave, if it turned out to be unfit for the duties for which he was purchased.

  He did not intend to buy a slave who told lies; he needed to trust them. Moreover, he knew from experience that severe punishments rarely succeeded in correcting this kind of behavior.

  ***

  The boy looked at him in surprise. No one ever doubted my words, and for a good reason; I am not a liar! How can he even think about it without even knowing me?

  He knew that this sort of lie would have been short-lived, and the consequences of this would have been something he was not looking for.

  “I am not a liar, Sir,” he cried, standing tall trying to keep calm.

  Marcus Tiberius started to seriously consider purchasing the boy; he could become useful in many ways.

  His son, Flavius, was about the same age, and this slave could be the perfect companion. He could serve as an interpreter during trips to the Middle East, and he could help him as well with translations. If Marcus allowed him to continue his education, he would become more and more useful.

  “Do we agree, then, for 1000 Sestertii?” he asked, looking at the merchant.

  “You must be in the mood for jokes; I can come down to 2000, nothing more,” he said chuckling.

  Marcus Tiberius started to feel impatient, and besides, he hadn’t come to purchase a new slave, at least, not one that filthy. He began to lose his temper. “1100, last offer. You don’t want to have me as an enemy, believe me,” he hissed.

  The merchant backed off. He knew he was an influential man with powerful friends.

  “So it shall be, Marcus Tiberius Numida. The slave is yours for 1100 Sestertii, although, you know that his value is higher than this price.” Marcus Tiberius handed him the money he kept in a leather purse, and the trader released the boy’s neck from the heavy chain.

  “What’s your name, slave?” Marcus Tiberius asked the boy.

  “My name is Saul, Sir,” he replied, shyly keeping his voice low, peeking at Marcus Tiberius.

  At those words, the merchant grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to his knees. “From this day on, you will address him as a Master, you worthless little beast. Apologize for your insolence, slave.”

  The boy started to cry, realizing the depth of the desperate situation he was in.

  “Forgive me…Master,” he sobbed, almost whispering, hoping from the bottom of his heart that his new Master would take him away from that square and the merchant as quickly as possible.

  Marcus Tiberius looked at him and lent him a hand. “I forgive you, Saul. Take my hand and stand up; we’re going home,” he said in a gentle tone.

  Without daring to look up into his face, Saul gently took his hand and stood.

  Marcus Tiberius held the boy by the wrist and started to walk home in silence, wondering about the quality of his new slave.

  Saul limped, struggling to keep up with Marcus Tiberius. With each step, pain rose in his chest, stabbing his heart like sharp blades, grabbing his soul, and choking every breath. He didn’t know how far Marcus Tiberius’ house was, but he knew he could not walk much longer at that pace. He felt like dying, and at that moment, he realized the thought came not to haunt his heart, but to give relief to a pain he wasn’t sure he could endure.

  He fell to his knees, gasping for air.

  “Master…” he said, struggling to rise. Tears filled his eyes.

  Marcus Tiberius glanced down at the weeping thing on his knees in the dirt, and for the first time, he felt something he never experienced before in his life. He had mercy.

  He knelt in front of him and scrutinized the state of his feet. “You can’t walk any farther.” As he had with his son in the past, he took Saul in his arms and continued to walk without saying a word or peering at him.

  For Saul, it was hard to believe that a Roman who addressed him as an object had mercy in his heart. Shyly, he peered at him, feeling confused. Marcus didn’t seem upset that he had to carry him; he looked as if he was almost smiling. Maybe I’m imagining it.

  Saul could never have predicted the recent changes in his life, nor could he guess what awaited him in his new house as Marcus Tiberius’ slave. He stared blankly at his new Master; he missed his family and worried about what happened to them.

  He looked at his Master and, without conscious thought, smiled at him. He laid his head against Marcus’ chest and listened to the strong and regular beating of his heart.

  Marcus Tiberius noticed and felt pleased. Knowing he should have been firm with him, as he was with all his slaves, he maintained a serious expression.

  When they arrived home, he set Saul on his feet as soon as the ground evened out. As Marcus Tiberius released him, he locked his eyes on Saul, and with a stern expression, he lightly slapped the child’s
face.

  “This is not to punish you for something you have done, Saul, but rather because, in this way, I’m going to remind you of your position. I am your Master. You are my property, and I have the right to do to you whatever I judge appropriate, whether it is a reward or a punishment. Do you understand?” he asked severely.

  Saul’s heart stuttered at his words

  “Yes, Master. I understand… thank you,” he said, averting his eyes.

  “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.”