"Well, some of us came from Jerusalem and helped in the fight against the Romans. We were trying to get them to leave us alone." They’d in truth been among the very few to escape. The Romans were capturing and crucifying Jews by the hundred, every day.
"We have been trying that too," the boy beside him said. “They don’t listen.”
"Where are you from?" Jotham asked, interrupting his own tale. "My name is Jotham."
"I am Sefu. I live in the great desert, and with my father and two brothers we rode across it, bringing ore and salt to trade."
"Oh yes, I know of the great desert," said Jotham, who didn't, but wanted to impress this boy. "What happened?"
"What do you think? Centurions came, many of them. We fought them, but they killed my father and my elder brother. Toqe got away, I think, though men followed. Me, they wrapped in chains and put me in a boat. I got here three days ago and now I'm in another boat." His voice was matter-of-fact, dispassionate.
"The same thing, nearly, for me. The governor, Silva, came with his legion, and for a long time they couldn't get up, because the walls were so high," Jotham said.
"As high as the clouds," Sefu said.
"That’s right, but they had big machines that knocked holes in our walls. They built a big plank and came up. Knocked down our walls and took us prisoner. My mother and father, they died," Jotham ventured this information out tentatively, because saying it might make it more true. “I hate the Romans!” he said, too loudly. The Romans hadn’t actually killed his family, of course, but it had been their fault.
"How many did you kill?" the tall boy asked. His teeth were very white.
"Me? None. I am only eight." He had tried at the end, though. Children even younger than Jotham had grabbed knives or rocks. Many never intended to use them on anyone but themselves, but Jotham had attacked a centurion armed with only a stick.
"I am ten, and I killed three men. With my spear," Sefu said.
Jotham looked at the boy in awe, his eyes growing big. "You are a great warrior," he said at last.
A shout brought their attention to the sea. A pod of dolphins swam with them, splashing and playing in the sea. Jotham frowned, angry that mere animals could be happy and free, when both had been denied to him. Yet, he felt encouraged. Such freedom in the world, even if for dumb animals, made his own circumstances feel tolerable. Seeing the animals jumping in the ocean surf showed him a much needed balance, and he knew it was something he would never forget.
****
He was never able to remember how many days it took from Rhodes to their final destination. He slept a lot. He was sick a lot. The open sea was frightening, but it was welcome after so much time buried in the darkness. Sometimes, he talked with Sefu, but mostly they sat and stared at the endless horizon. Another boy in the cage died, and the Romans didn't bother taking him out, even though the sea was right there. Jotham feared getting too close to the body, but Sefu had scorned them. "Fear the living, not the dead," the boy had said. It made sense, but Jotham hadn't come any closer to the body. The dead boy had died with an obscene grin, and his eyes were open, blank, and staring. His father’s words echoed in his head. Was a dead body evil, he wondered?
Once he was sent down to the hold to bring up the day’s water for the children. He went slowly. The war machines scared him. Like huge wooden monsters, he’d seen them toss large stones almost two furlongs. Those boulders, along with massive arrows, had nearly destroyed the ramparts on their own, without any help from the Roman army. Elazar said they would have won, if it weren’t for those awful war machines. They were disassembled now, but he could sense their quiet menace. He filled up the cups quickly and hurried back to the safety of his cage.
They landed with the tide early one morning. Before them stretched a crowded, stinking city, much larger than the one on Rhodes, but even this city was not Rome, though to Jotham, it seemed at least as big as Jerusalem. The slaves were collected from various ships and loaded into carts. He did not see where Sefu had gone.
Jotham’s cart was led by a smiling young man with two big oxen. It was a hot day, and the prisoners were crowded together. The boy’s head was wedged beneath a man's stinking, oily armpit. The man’s armpit hairs brushed his face every time the cart hit a bump. There was no room to move, and he could see nothing but flesh and the wooden planks of the cart. They arrived in Rome some hours later.
Jotham had seen many strange things in his life, but the sight of the eternal city astounded him. It was so big, bigger than Jerusalem times ten. The roads outside were crowded with messengers, travelers, and free men reveling in the autumn sunshine. We thought we could hold off the armies forever, Jotham thought. They could have used ten more armies to capture us. A cold depression filled him as he began to realize just how unfair the world truly was.
They hadn’t yet entered the city gates when they were met by a city official. He was smiling and showed no sign of discomfort in the great heat. "Good, good," he said. "You have arrived just in time. The market is opening soon.” He looked over the carts critically, and his smile died, replaced by a slight wince. “More Jews,” he said reproachfully, shaking his head. “And these ones are half-starved. Oh well, someone will surely buy them."
As their litter moved into the city and towards the slave market, all of the boys stared in amazement, astounded at the sight of the city. He could see some of the seven hills it was built on. Highest was the Palatine, where the Emperor and his family lived. The other hills had grand buildings and statues on them. It was almost too much to comprehend.
He thought of the slave market, and wondered how long he would have to live in Rome before he could go home.
****
Jotham followed the large man down the unfamiliar street. He was enormously fat, with his huge belly and breasts larger than most women’s were. His skin was olive-toned and he had no hair on his face.
“Come along, little Felix,” Hyacinthus said, "there is always something new from Africa," he added, mostly to himself.
"It’s Jotham, and I won’t be a servus for long.”
The fat man laughed. “Such fierceness. When you reach the ripe age of thirty, you can buy yourself a liberty cap, assuming your master agrees, of course. They are very stylish—red, floppy, and cone-shaped. You'll look great in them. Until then, the only escape is death.”
“Thirty!” cried Jotham. “Half my life will be over.”
“Being a servus, you have to suffer many injustices. It’s a hard burden to bear,” Hyacinthus intoned dramatically. “Now come, because you still have to meet your master and learn your new duties.”
“Why did I sell for so little?" Jotham asked, struggling to keep up. For all his size, the big man could walk quickly. The street they were walking on was like a street anywhere in the world. Jotham was surprised how much it reminded him of Jerusalem. The same wine shops, food stalls, and old houses made up the neighborhoods, and the same cracked stone path meandered through them.
"Why?" The fat man repeated. “I paid 400 denari for you.”
"Yes, why? My friend Sefu sold for much more." He had seen Sefu at the market. The gangly boy had been bought by a high-ranking noble after a heated auction. By contrast, the fat man had been Jotham’s only bidder.
"He may have had some skill. You have none--too small to fight, too ugly for loving, and you can't read or write.”
“I’m not ugly. My mother said—” he stopped there. He hadn’t thought of her for days now, it seemed.
“My mother said I’d grow up to be King of Greece. Mothers lie, little Felix, it’s what they do best, and you are ugly, too. Just as I am fat. Even when you grow, you will never be handsome. Your nose is too big and your hair too oily. And your butt is scrawny—men want something to grab onto.”
"I can read and write," Jotham said. He suspected it was wiser to change the subject. "My tongue and yours."
"Latin isn't my tongue, boy," Hyacinthus said, "but this is surprising. If true,
I have done well this day." He stopped walking. Next to him was a cracked wall of an abandoned building. He dug in the ground and emerged with a burnt torch. "Chalk is the pen for fools, and walls their paper. But you have much growth to reach the humble status of fool."
He handed the torch to Jotham. "Here, Felix, write something. Not your name, but something else."
Without thinking about it, he began writing something he had seen on the walls of Jerusalem and Masada. Romani Ite Domum. The fat Greek was laughing before he had finished.
"Romans go home. I like this. But they are already home, boy, already home."
Empire Of The Undead is available from Amazon here
Table of Contents
IBefore
Section 1:Loss
1Alec’s On Patrol
2Jon’s On A Mission
3Mathias Is Having Dinner
4Freya Makes Plans
5Misha’s In Mourning
6Hope’s At School
7Hanna’s Wandering The Ship
IICurrent
Section 2:Found
8Mathias Can’t Rest
9Jon’s In Prison
10Hope’s On An Adventure
11Hanna’s On The Run
12Freya Attends A Meeting
13Where’s Misha?
IIIDuring
Section 3:Fight
14Mathias Was Asleep
15Misha’s With The Animals
16Hanna’s On The Other Ship
17Jon’s Gotta Help“Misha!”
18Freya Boards The Other Ship
19Hope’s In A Room
IVEvacuation
Section 4:Flight
20Mathias Is In The Ocean
21Jon’s In The Chopper
22Hope’s Aboard The Flotilla
23Freya’s On A Raft
24Misha’s On The Mainland
Excerpt
Survival Instinct (Book 3): Fighting Instinct Page 43