The Gods Help Those

by Albert A. Bell

  “And I’ve read them,” I would reply. “They never advocate doing away with it. They just want masters to treat their slaves more humanely. Seneca wanted everyone—slave or free—to treat those beneath them as they wished to be treated by those above them. Our world would collapse without slavery. If my father hadn’t sold my mother and me, we would all have died of starvation on the edge of the desert in North Africa. That would have been worse than slavery in the house of Gaius and his uncle, wouldn’t it?…Wouldn’t it?”

  “You were the one who tore up Berenicianus’ stripe, weren’t you?” Tacitus said.

  “Yes.” Licinia lifted her chin proudly. “And I would rip yours off you right now, if I could.”

  I didn’t want to get into a debate about the morality of slavery or social classes. Some things just are. “If you didn’t kill Lucullus or Berenicianus, then who did?”

  “If you give me time, I’ll tell you, Gaius Pliny, and you won’t have to beat it out of me.”

  I sat back down and motioned for her to do the same. “Take all the time you need. Tell us what you know. Maybe you can be the oracle I need to make sense out of this.”

  Licinia looked at me in consternation, sat down, and took a breath to compose herself. “I was in my room a few nights ago, when it was raining so badly. Simon came to the door. I thought he was going to…spend the night, but he said he was leaving—he and the others who had come here with him. I asked him why. If they ran away and were caught, they would be severely punished. That’s what happens to slaves. He had never been mistreated by my father.”

  “Your father was too afraid of him to do anything,” Porcia said.

  “Had Simon been letting his hair and his beard grow?” I asked.

  “Yes, but he just did that sometimes,” Licinia said, “whenever the mood struck him.”

  Or whenever he was planning to kill someone? “Did he tell you why he had chosen that moment to run away?”

  “He said something had happened to my father and he had to leave. He was sure he would be blamed.”

  “What had happened?”

  “He didn’t say, just that he had to leave. I told him I wanted to go with him.”

  “So he didn’t force you to go?” Porcia asked.

  “No, Mother. He would have had to force me to stay.”

  “Did you see your father’s body before you left?” I asked.

  “No. I heard later that he was stabbed in the back.”

  “Do you know who did it?”

  “No, I don’t. I swear it.”

  “We believe it was Simon.”

  Licinia shook her head vigorously. “The Simon I know couldn’t have done that. He could be provoked, I admit, but at heart he was a tender man. When he took me in his arms—”

  “That’s not the issue here,” I said quickly. “You’re saying that you led this group of escaping slaves out of the house.”

  “It was easy.” She looked proud, smug. “I guess my father’s body hadn’t been found yet. No one had raised an alarm and no one thought there was anything unusual about his daughter leaving the house with a few slaves to accompany her, even in the rain.”

  “How did you end up in my warehouse? Of all the warehouses—”

  “Simon didn’t seem to have much of a plan after we left here. I’m not sure he intended for anyone to go with him. He had a bag of supplies, but I didn’t learn until later what was in it. I could see that we needed shelter. I thought we might find a place in a warehouse along the river. That would put us close to boats and a way out of Rome. We could also find something to eat. We chose yours because it wasn’t locked. Unfortunately, it was also empty.”

  “Can you swear that Simon did or did not kill your father?”

  “He never told me, one way or the other. But he did kill Berenicianus.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?”

  “I saw him do it.”

  XI

  You saw Simon kill Berenicianus?” I leaned forward in disbelief. “Did you try to stop him?”

  Licinia shook her head slowly. “There was nothing I could do.”

  I needed to test her reliability, which I certainly had good reason to doubt. “Where was Berenicianus killed?”

  “In the alleyway beside your warehouse.”

  “How did he come to be there? And, I presume, by himself?”

  “Simon lured him there. He sent a message telling Berenicianus to come to the warehouse alone or he would kill Berenice. ‘You know I can do it,’ he said in the message. ‘I can get to that whore any time I want.’ ”

  “How do you know what was in this message?”

  “I wrote down what he dictated. I was the only one in our group who could write. Reuben and I delivered it. We gave it to the guard at the door of Berenice’s insula and did not wait for an answer.”

  “How did you know where Berenice lived?”

  “Reuben knew. But Simon had been following you since the first time you came to your warehouse. You were a good piece of bait, Gaius Pliny.”

  Of course I should have realized I’d made it easy for him.

  “He saw where you lived and he saw you talking to Berenice later, that day she came to you,” Licinia continued. “He followed her home from there.”

  Her smirk taunted me as much as her words.

  “Berenicianus was a fool,” Tacitus said, “to meet anyone under those circumstances—alone in a dangerous part of the city.”

  “He had to do it to protect his mother,” I said. “Wouldn’t you? I would have done it.” I turned back to Licinia. “What happened when Berenicianus arrived?”

  “Simon met him in the alleyway beside the building,” she said. “I hid around the corner so I could see and hear what was going on. Because of the rain I couldn’t hear every word, but they were both very angry. Simon said something and Berenicianus said, ‘You would kill your own mother?’ ”

  I jumped up. “Wait! He called Berenice Simon’s mother?”

  “Yes. It surprised me, too. Simon didn’t deny it. He said, ‘My mother? Is that what she is? Let’s see. My father was her uncle, so that makes her my cousin. But, if she was married to my uncle, she’s also my aunt, isn’t she?’ He put his head in his hands, as though he was hopelessly confused. ‘Mother? Cousin? Aunt? How…how do I know what to call her? And then she spreads her legs for her own brother. I guess “whore” covers all the possibilities, so that’s what I call her.’

  “And Berenicianus said, ‘Hyrcanus, you can’t—’

  “ ‘Don’t call me Hyrcanus!’ he shouted. ‘That’s the name that whore gave me. I’m Simon ben-Hur. I can call myself that because I have heard what the Lord says. You and your Roman friends, with your stripes on your clothes, you think you’ve won, but you haven’t listened to the Lord like I have.’ ”

  Licinia took a deep breath. “Berenicianus asked him what he had heard. Simon said, ‘We have to live by the rules, by the law. Our family breeds like a flock of sheep. The rams mount any ewe they want. Sister, cousin, mother—it makes no difference. And you and I, dear brother, are their offspring. They’re disgusting. We’re disgusting. They call themselves Jews, but they pay no attention to the rules. Isn’t that what Jews are supposed to do—live by the rules, by God’s laws?’

  “Berenicianus shook his head. ‘We did that for a long time—for centuries—and what good did it do us? How many times has Jerusalem been sacked? If a god fails to protect those who live by his laws, what good is he?’ ”

  Licinia clenched her hands together and drew them to her mouth. “Simon became furious. ‘He hasn’t failed us,’ he said. ‘He imposes trials on us because we fail him. We don’t live by his laws. When we return to him and his laws, he will restore us.’

  “ ‘And you think running around in the streets stabbing people will restore us to him?’

  “ ‘If we scare enough people badly enough, we’ll make the point. They will return to him. That’s what I was trying to do, what all the Sica
rii were trying to do—sort the wheat from the chaff. But you weren’t faithful. Your Roman stomach was too weak for the hard work.’

  “ ‘You’re on a fool’s errand, Hyrcanus, and you’re the perfect fool for it.’

  “ ‘I told you, don’t call me Hyrcanus! My name is Simon.’

  “ ‘Call yourself whatever you like,’ Berenicianus said. ‘I’m finished with this conversation, and with you. I’m going to be sure I can protect my mother.’ He turned to leave. Simon grabbed him around the throat and plunged a knife into his back.

  “ ‘Are you sure you don’t mean your cousin?’ he said. Then he stabbed him again. ‘Or maybe you’re talking about your aunt?’ The second time he thrust it so hard I thought the whole knife, handle and all, was going to go in. There was blood all over the place. Then Simon told me to get the bag he had brought with him.”

  “You stuffed coins in Berenicianus’ mouth and sewed it shut,” I said.

  She nodded. “Simon put the coins in his mouth. I had to sew it up, though. Berenicianus wasn’t quite dead. He knew what I was doing.” She was amazingly calm. “Simon’s hands were shaking too badly, from excitement, I think. He kept muttering something about a king who had to watch his sons get killed and then had his eyes gouged out. Simon propped him up against the wall in the warehouse and told the others to keep quiet. Then I cut up as much of Berenicianus’ stripe as I could.”

  “Why did Simon want you to do that?”

  “He didn’t. That was my idea,” she said proudly. “I hate those things and everything they stand for.”

  “Part of what they stand for is the luxurious life you’ve enjoyed for years.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Gaius Pliny,” Porcia said. She had sent Licinia to her room and we retired to the exhedra to get out of the sun. Porcia ordered a servant to bring wine and fruit. “I can’t control her. She’ll run away again or Simon will come to get her.”

  “If he comes to get her, I believe it will be to kill her. He tried to do that at my house. You saw the wound on her side.”

  “Why would he want to kill her? I thought they were in love.”

  “Licinia may be in love with the idea of a dangerous romance. Simon is in love with himself and obsessed with revenge.”

  “I think he was also having an affair with Deborah, the girl who escaped with him.”

  “You said these people were captured after the war, but Deborah would have been quite young then, wouldn’t she?”

  Porcia nodded. “I understand that she was ten when Lucullus bought her, along with her father, Reuben.” She paused, gathering enough courage to say something difficult, even painful. “Lucullus had…an interest in girls…of that age, I’m afraid. He lost interest when they began their monthlies. The main reason he married me, I believe, is because I looked so young. I was only twelve and looked even younger. I’ve never had the sort of voluptuous body some women have.” She glanced at Aurora. “I didn’t want Lucullus dead, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to protect my daughter in a few more years.”

  Aurora whispered something in my ear and I turned back to Porcia. “This is not easy to ask, but do you think he might have…?”

  “To Licinia? I’ve no doubt of it. She’s never admitted it, mind you, but I think it’s why she has never wanted to make herself pretty. And why she threw herself at Simon, the one thing that would cause her father the most distress. Simon was her way of punishing Lucullus, I believe.”

  “We found a baby in the warehouse,” I said.

  “A living baby?” Porcia said in surprise.

  “Yes. Could the father have been Lucullus?”

  Porcia shook her head. “As I said, Lucullus preferred girls who weren’t nubile. Any coupling he did with a woman like me or his first wife was just an obligation. Roman men are supposed to produce children. The law requires it. I don’t have to tell you gentlemen that.”

  No, she didn’t. Roman law does require that a man have three legitimate children to hold the upper offices in the state and to be allowed to inherit property. Neither Tacitus nor I has fulfilled that obligation. Many men of our class have failed to do so. Rather, they don’t inquire too closely about the paternity of their children or they ask for an exemption, the ius trium liberorum, that gives them the legal status of having three children. Tacitus has it. I guess I’ll have to ask for it at some point, given Livia’s adamant refusal to do that part of her wifely duty.

  I wanted to turn the conversation away from our lack of children. I hear enough about that from my mother. “Could the child have belonged to someone in your household, perhaps the slave woman who escaped with Simon?”

  Porcia pursed her lips in thought. “I suspect the baby you found was Deborah’s.”

  “You suspect?” Tacitus said. “You don’t know if one of your servants had a baby?”

  “Deborah worked in the kitchen by her choice. I didn’t see much of her in other parts of the house. Her room was back here, next to the kitchen. It was her responsibility to get up early and start the fire and that sort of thing. She kept to herself, had very little to say to anyone. Another of our servants had a child recently, one of the women with whom I work more closely. I guess I was more aware of her than of Deborah. I did notice at some point that Deborah seemed to be gaining weight, but these gowns conceal a lot.” She pulled at her own garment.

  I had to agree. Deceiving a husband about a pregnancy was a frequent theme in comedies. “Do you have any idea whose child he might be?” I didn’t really need an answer to that question. The child was circumcised and Simon had invaded my house looking for him.

  Porcia didn’t have time to answer before her two children came out of the room where the nurse had been tending to them. “I’m sorry, my lady,” the nurse said. “They wanted to see you and your visitors.”

  “It’s all right,” Porcia said with a smile. “I think we’re finished here.” The children ran to her and she embraced them. Seeing them up close, as opposed to the distance from which I’d seen them at their father’s funeral, I could see that they were both quite handsome, the girl resembling her mother already and the boy sporting dark hair and round features, which the mask of Licinius had displayed. “Is there anything else I can tell you, Gaius Pliny?” their mother asked.

  We all stood. “You’ve been most helpful, my lady. I would advise you to keep a close eye on Licinia. Post a guard on her at all times, if possible.”

  “Do you really think there is any further danger?”

  I nodded. “I do think Simon will come after her, but not to take her away, as she believes. He disposes of people after he’s finished with them. That’s what he did when he killed Lucullus. He manipulated Licinia. Now he has no further use for her. I think he wanted to kill her before she could tell us what we just heard. That’s why he came to get her at my house.”

  “But why would he kill her now?”

  “Either he doesn’t know if she has talked to us, or he does know and will want revenge. Revenge is the fuel that stokes whatever fire is burning in the man. He’s consumed by it.”

  “He’s far more dangerous than Licinia realizes,” Tacitus said. “She can’t see the real man because of her childish, romantic notions.”

  Porcia’s face showed her indecisiveness. “I really don’t have enough servants here to watch her. And we couldn’t defend ourselves if Simon came after her. He and Reuben were the two most able-bodied men in the household.”

  “Let me take her to my house,” Tacitus offered.

  “You’re not going to lock her up in some dark hole, are you?” Porcia asked. Recalcitrant slaves are sometimes confined under harsh conditions. “As little as I care for her, I wouldn’t want her subjected to that.”

  “Not at all,” Tacitus assured her. “She’ll be treated as a guest, but I can call on some of Agricola’s veterans who live in an insula nearby to stand guard over her.”

  “But Simon may think she’s still here,” Porcia objected, holding he
r children closer to her. It struck me that the little boy clinging to his mother’s gown was actually the owner of this property now. If something happened to me—if I died again and did not awaken—there would be no one to inherit all that I own.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “He has an uncanny knack for following us without being seen. I’m sure he knows we’re here, and he will know where we take Licinia. Once we leave with her, I don’t think you and your household will be in any further danger.” I knelt in front of her and put my hand on the boy’s head. “You take good care of your mother.”

  Licinia, of course, did not want to go with us. “This is always what happens to the child of the first wife!” she screamed. “The second wife has a couple of brats and I’m thrown out.”

  “We’re just taking you to a safe place,” Gaius said. He motioned for me to walk beside her.

  I slipped my arm through hers. She accepted the gesture, still in her pose as sympathizing with a servant, I guess. From what I had heard at Porcia’s house, I knew what had happened to Licinia when she was a child. That made me look at her very differently. Her father had taken advantage of her when she was ten or eleven. My father might have sold me, but he had never hurt me that way. Licinia’s mother had been killed when she was twelve—

  I stopped myself right there as a string of questions came into my mind. What if her mother had found out what Lucullus was doing and tried to stop him? What if she threatened to expose him? Roman men do marry very young girls, but coupling with children is considered abnormal, something embarrassing if it’s made public. It would have disqualified him from public offices. Would Lucullus have had his wife killed to prevent that? He had an assassin in his household, and his wife was killed by the method that assassin liked to use.

  “You know, I was perfectly safe back there,” Licinia said, speaking rapidly, the way I’ve seen crazy women in the streets yammering to themselves. “Simon wouldn’t hurt me. He loves me. And I love him.”

  I didn’t say anything, just held her arm a little more tightly and patted her hand.