Rufius

by Sarah Walton

  ‘The Director is correct. This is not a trial and I have not decided whether there will be one yet. You can assure his Holiness the Archbishop that the law will be carried out, to the letter, Brother Theophilus. Now, this court is adjourned.’

  Rufius and his tall Greek slave follow Fatty’s dad through a wooden door behind his desk. Rage simmers in Theophilus’ tight-lipped expression as the door closes.

  ‘Fatty, I need to get out of here before Henite spots me.’

  ‘Follow me, K-Kiya.’ How sweet – Fatty offers his hand to help me up from my chair.

  ‘I can manage.’ Ah, that’s sore. The blisters under my armpit burst as my crutch rubs against them.

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  Rufius

  I refuse to wait a moment longer for that boy. I’m ravenous. The slaves spent days preparing this dinner.

  ‘Cassius, cut the lamb, dear.’

  Flesh falls away from the bone as soon as my knife prods it. That’s how lamb should be cooked. The combination of spices surprises my palate: turmeric… and cinnamon. Um, not bad at all.

  ‘Finally you Egyptian skivvies have learnt to cook like Roman slaves.’

  The boys keep their eyes on the floor, but a subtle release of the shoulders tells me they were anxious for a positive response. It’s taken them longer to produce these dishes than it took Aeson to learn to write. Where is that boy? The food will get cold.

  That must be him, running as usual.

  ‘Rufius, sorry I’m late, I… ’ Aeson gawps at the feast laid out on the low tables. Dinners have been sour affairs since the scene at the Law Court last week. I’m still furious he stole from my own library shelves, from Biblos. From his home! Once a thief, always a thief… Apollinos’ words have haunted me all week, but tonight I will put my disappointment aside. At least the Magistrate and Theophilus thought Aeson took the book from the Library.

  ‘This is your leaving dinner, dear. There’s stuffed dormouse, lamb, suckling piglet, three types of sea bream, lobster, and your favourite – sweet-chicken wings.’ I wave at the trays of dishes filled with sauces and spicy vegetable concoctions. ‘Apollinos can tell you what’s in those Eastern delicacies.’ Aeson will play it safe with the sweet-chicken and fish… he still has the palate of a pleb.

  For the love of Bacchus! My darling boy, he’s crying. He stares at the low tables crammed with dishes and trays in a desolate silence.

  ‘Shoo, all of you. Out slaves.’

  Apollinos, Diana, Cassius and his tiny brother Antinous all slink out. Apollinos slides the door shut.

  ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Rufius, but I made a promise to a friend.’ His blue eyes are watery.

  ‘My dear boy, do you think I’m disowning you?’

  He’s staring at the feast as though he’s witnessing his life’s savings vanish after backing the wrong charioteer. He thinks this is the end of us.

  ‘No, no, no, my dear boy. You’re going to the University of Constantinople. And you’re enrolled as Aeson Biblus Catamitus.’

  My poor boy needs a hug. A plate of stuffed figs clatters to the floor as I walk round the couches and fold him into my arms – he’s my height now. He pulls away and stares at me as though I’ve landed him an even greater blow.

  ‘Rufius, I can’t leave Alexandria. I’m Alexandrian. This is home.’

  ‘Of course you can, dear. Did you honestly think I’d allow a son of mine to be educated at a second rate university?’ He’ll come round, when he’s over the initial shock. ‘Come, sit down and eat. Apollinos has been fussing over this dinner all week.’

  He sits on the couch opposite me staring at a piece of sweet-chicken.

  ‘This is because I stole the book, isn’t it, Rufius? I’ll pay you back whatever you bribed Fatty’s dad to get me and Seth off the hook… once I can earn my own money, I will, I promise.’

  My appetite’s gone too.

  ‘Do you realise how close you were to being put on trial, Aeson?’

  He lowers his head.

  ‘Look at me, dear. This isn’t a punishment. But you do realise the grisly fate of people caught in possession of magical books?’ Thank Bacchus Fatty’s father was open to a bribe.

  ‘I do now.’

  ‘What is it? I want to know you understand.’

  ‘… but Rufius, it was that priest… Fatty’s dad was going to confiscate the book and let me and Seth go until the priest turned up.’

  ‘Soothsayers and magicians are burnt alive. That priest was one step away from building a case to imply you and that Ophite were magicians…’ He’s not touched his chicken. ‘… Aeson, we live in volatile times. The Archbishop of Alexandria may not be a murderous old battle-axe like the Archbishop of Rome, but they’re all bent on rolling magic and heresy into one crime. That priest – what was his name? Theophilus – he might be more than a priest one day, and you, my dear boy, have made an enemy of him.’ And so have I.

  ‘But, like you always say, Rufius, money’s above the law.’

  ‘Aeson, let me be blunt. You know what I am. I’m a cinaedus…’

  ‘No, Rufius…’

  ‘Let me finish, dear. In the eyes of the law, I am classed as infamous. That means I cannot defend you. If your case went to trial I would have had to pay some lawyer, also open to bribes and the pressure of the Archbishop, to defend you. That, my darling boy, I will not risk. Justice takes a hike when it comes to religious squabbles.’

  ‘But Rufius, it won’t happen again.’

  ‘You’re in with the wrong crowd, Aeson. I had hoped you would make more friends at school.’ Rolling around in the gutter’s fine, but he treats those Ophites… like family. The way he begged me to extend the bribe to ensure that smooth-talking Ophite didn’t go on trial either… what hold do they have over him?

  He wipes his eyes. Good, the old defiance is back.

  ‘My friends are good people, Rufius.’ His loyalty’s unnatural.

  ‘That may be, but Fatty aside, your friends comprise of heretics and street boys. No, no, no, my mind is made up! You are going to Constantinople. My friend Titus has arranged a place for you. In Constantinople you will make the sort of friends who’ll help your career.’

  He bites off a chunk of chicken and frowns. What’s he thinking? Surely he won’t refuse me now I’m his father.

  ‘You wanted to make your fortune. Well you have, in one swoop you landed yourself a goldmine, but fortunes don’t maintain themselves. You need friends in the Empire, a wider horizon. I’m only thinking of your future, dear boy.’ And I want him far removed from heretics, as well as that vengeful pimp and his rent boys.

  ‘What if I get top grades in my Grammatica?’

  ‘You would have had to leave next year anyway, Aeson. Fatty’s father has plans to send Fatty to Athens.’

  I’ll never forgive Olympus for refusing to put Aeson forward for Athens. I had hoped he could pull a few strings, even if it’s a year too early. He’s so revoltingly upright.

  ‘What if I refuse to go?’

  ‘It is your choice. I will not force you, but if you disobey me, I’ll have to revoke the adoption.’ My heart skips. I’m bluffing. Concentrate on the food, Rufius. Don’t let him see it’s a bluff.

  He sips his wine the way I’ve taught him.

  ‘How long before I depart?’

  ‘Two months. Apollinos will make the travel arrangements.’

  He lifts his chin and raises his voice. ‘Apollinos, come in here.’

  The five slaves patter back inside. Apollinos looks like he’s been crying too… and Diana. And Cassius. They love him. What’s not to love?

  ‘This is delicious. What are the other dishes?’

  ‘Thank you, master. This dish here is an Indian speciality made with crushed coriander seeds and cumin, and this…’

  Apollinos continues to describe the dishes, with his usual precision. I’ve lost my appetite.

  ‘Come and sit next to me, dear.’

  Aeson climbs over the couches
. It’s a comfort to feel the skin of his arm against mine.

  ‘You know I’ll miss you, don’t you, dear? I wouldn’t send you away unless I felt it was in your best interest.’ I twist his soft curls through my fingers.

  His expression softens. ‘Yes, I know that, Rufius.’

  ‘Biblos is your home. When things have died down here you can visit.’

  Something tells me Theophilus meant what he said: Next time, Director. The next wrong move, and I’ll be ready for you and your boy. There’s something of Damasus in him, but worse. He lacks Damasus’ business sense – Damasus would have had a cut of the Magistrate’s bribe. Theophilus isn’t the bribing type – too bloody holier-than-thou.

  Apollinos will drone on about recipes all night if I don’t shut him up. Aeson throws a leg over mine – By Bacchus, I’ll miss his thighs! – and plays with my hair. He wants something.

  ‘Rufius, I’ll go to Constantinople on one condition.’

  ‘What’s that, dear?’

  ‘Return the original copy of The Book of Wisdom to Seth.’

  Apollinos stops his culinary prattle and looks at me.

  That’s my boy: the perpetual negotiator. Let’s give those sexy thighs a slap. He laughs.

  ‘Apollinos, you’ve had your orders. Return the original to the Ophites.’

  What is Apollinos doing in my bedroom? It must be the middle of the night.

  ‘Master, the giant… I mean, there’s a man here to see you. He said he won’t leave until he’s spoken to you.’

  ‘I thought you bought new guards. Tell them to do their job. What’s come over you disturbing my sleep, Apollinos?’

  ‘It was something he said, master, about Aeson.’

  Apollinos helps me into my tunic. Oh, my head. This hangover will be a bad one.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘At the gate, master. He’s unarmed.’

  ‘Alright, tell him I’m coming.’

  I can see why they call him a giant. He’s the largest man I’ve ever seen. Through the iron grills of the gate, torches outside the house cast shadows across his body. He’s twice the height of the guards, swords raised either side of him. I can smell his body odour from here – animal fur and bitter spice. Head shaved, flat African features. He looks like he lives rough, but there’s something majestic about him.

  Apollinos looks uneasy.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘My name is Dera. I’ve come for Aeson.’ His voice is deep, as one would expect of a man of his stature, but low like a Vestal and his teeth glow white in the lamplight.

  ‘What is Aeson to you?’

  ‘Brother, I was a friend of his father. God rest his soul.’ Brother indeed! Another nutty Christian.

  ‘Aeson Biblus Catamitus is my son. What do you want with him?’

  ‘Yes, I watched his toga virilis.’

  Biblos security’s bloody hopeless. No wonder the guards look sheepish.

  ‘Brother, I come to warn you, Alexandria is not safe for Aeson.’

  Tell me something I don’t know, will you? My head’s throbbing from Turk’s Desert Honey.

  ‘I can take him somewhere he’ll be safe. Evil hunts him in Alexandria. Let me take him, brother.’

  ‘Dera, was it? Are you a monk, Dera?’ He certainly smells like one of those fanatics that live like swine off slops in the desert.

  ‘I’m a hermit.’

  He’s desert-mad, no doubt about it. Best thing to do is to tell him what he wants to hear and send him packing.

  ‘Aeson is safe with me. Look at this house. It’s well guarded, and he has the best money can buy.’

  The huge hermit leans down towards the grill and whispers.

  ‘Brother, the evil that pursues him will make the walls of the Temple of Serapis crumble. If he remains in Alexandria, neither you, nor I can protect him.’

  Apollinos gasps. The hermit’s grave tone sends a current of fear through my whole body. His words echo in my brain… keep your head, Rufius. Evil pursues him, bah!

  ‘Do not worry, dear. Aeson is leaving Alexandria. I happen to agree with you: this city is no good for him. He’s going to Constantinople to finish his education.’

  The smelly hermit’s deciding whether to believe me or not.

  ‘When does he leave?’

  ‘This month.’

  ‘Brother, Aeson must never return to Alexandria.’

  ‘Biblos is his home. I cannot prevent him from returning when his studies have finished…’

  The man’s eyes widen, the whites glow in the torches. They look like they’re going to pop out of their sockets.

  ‘No! You will refuse his return – if you love him.’ The hermit’s voice does not rise, but the force of it is final and hypnotic. ‘You will refuse his return.’

  I want to tell him not to boss me about at my own gate, but the only words in my head are his. ‘Aeson will not return, dear.’

  ‘If Aeson tries to return, you will stop him.’

  The whites of his eyes seem to grow. It is as if the grill in the gate has disappeared and this enormous man and me are making some kind of silent agreement, as if he is forcing me to repeat his words.

  ‘If Aeson tries to return, I will stop him.’ My voice sounds distant, as if I’m speaking the words in a dream and those words tie me like a promise to a god.

  The hermit steps back, out of the light of the torches.

  ‘I believe you.’

  I can hear his voice but I can’t see him.

  ‘Where’d he go?’ One of the guards darts his sword about in front of him.

  Apollinos peers out, through the grill, into the night.

  ‘He’s gone, master… master?’

  My eyes are wide in a stare. I blink and shake my head.

  ‘What an unusual man, Apollinos. Did he say how he knew Aeson?’

  ‘A friend of his father, master.’ Apollinos is still frowning at the grill in the gate. He shakes his head, like a dog shakes out a shock, and turns to the guards. ‘Check the perimeter. I want the watch tight tonight.’

  The guards look as uneasy as Apollinos.

  ‘Apollinos, I want Aeson out of Alexandria within the month.’

  ‘You believe an evil force hunts Aeson?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Apollinos, unless you count street urchins and heretics. Bah! But the sooner Aeson’s out of Alexandria, the less likely he’ll get into any more trouble. Aeson’s fallen in with a bad lot. And now this stinking hermit – who knows when he’ll turn up again, spurting that Apocalyptic tripe Christians are so fond of and frightening the household with his ludicrous prophecy.’

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  ‌One Year Later

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  Letter from Rufius to Damasus

  My Dear Bishop,

  In response to your recent request, the scriptorium of the Alexandrian Library is at the disposal of your secretary Jerome. I can confirm that the Great Library of Alexandria holds the original version of the Hebrew Testament in Greek, and that it is in acceptable condition for copying. I will make the necessary arrangements. Like all books of great value, it is housed in the Daughter Library at the Serapeum. I can also arrange a guest room for your secretary at the temple if that suits his needs.

  On another matter, I seek your venerable assistance. My adopted son will visit Rome on his tour of the Empire. He will stay at my house on the Aventine. It is my wish, as his father, for him to be initiated into the Nicene faith. It would be a great honour if he could be baptised at your own bishopric, at the great Lateran Basilica, by your own holy hand.

  Your faithful partner in crime,

  Rufius

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  ‌Two Years Later

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  A letter arrives from Jerome to Rufius

  ‘Do you miss him, Diana dear?’ We both look at the statue of Aeson in the fountain, commissioned for his toga virilis. She purrs as I stroke her black hair, head in my lap.

  ‘It’s quieter witho
ut him around.’

  ‘Yes, there was never a dull moment was there, dear.’

  We brush the water from our skin as we look at his beautiful face. I should have this bench moved further back to avoid the spray.

  ‘He had bigger cock.’

  ‘Diana dear, the language!’ Thank Bacchus he didn’t get her pregnant. One Diana is quite enough.

  ‘Is truth.’

  ‘He’ll be nineteen this year.’

  Here’s Apollinos with the post. Perhaps there’s one from my boy. He writes regularly enough, but his tone saddens me. More like a letter from a son to his father than a lover. He tells me about his schoolmasters, his studies, his successes – never his screws and hangovers. I should write to him, but of what? A sad old fool who swoons at the sight of his statues all over the house. Hadrian’s loss was less bitter than mine. He witnessed the full growth of his Antinous, from ephebe to man. Eros cheated me of Aeson’s best years.

  ‘This one came from Constantinople this morning. I imagine it is from Aeson. The other was sent from Antioch.’

  ‘Damasus’ sidekick secretary. What’s he want? When Damasus said Jerome would be coming with his devotees, I didn’t expect an entourage of Roman matrons with their beautiful daughters in tow on hunger strike. Ha! Apollinos, wasn’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever seen, that fool Jerome spying through the keyhole at them!’

  ‘He was pulling on his cock so hard I feared it might fall off, master!’

  ‘And then he thanked you for throwing a bucket of water over him… ha!’

  Ripples of laughter convulse up into my throat. I can’t speak I’m laughing so much. So is Apollinos. Diana’s shoulders shake in hysterics in my lap. I’ve not seen him laugh since I used to tickle him as a boy. He’s trying to say something.

  ‘M-master, did I tell you he begged me to whip him?’

  ‘Ha! Oh Apollinos, tell me you obeyed him, please!’

  ‘Why of course, master! I gave him such a thrashing. And he thanked me again when I had finished. It wasn’t the first beating he’d had; Jerome’s back was a mesh of healed lash marks.’