love with them.”
“We’ll see,” Marcus said.
They returned to the house and rejoined the party. Pensive, Marcus reclined on the couch near Antigonus. The wine flowed freely as they talked politics. Bored, Arria mentioned Marcus’ fascination with the statue of the lovers. Antigonus’ brows dropped and he changed the subject. Marcus suggested the possibility of future financial needs, bemoaning the cost of putting on games for the mob, parties for the aristocracy, and other expensive obligations of political office. Antigonus soon saw the need for generosity.
“The statue will be in Valerian gardens by the end of next week,” he offered grandly.
Marcus knew the way Antigonus’ mind worked. He conveniently forgot promises when he was drunk. Smiling slightly, Marcus poured himself and Antigonus more wine. “I’ll take care of the arrangements,” he said and signaled one of the slaves.
Antigonus’ countenance fell as Marcus gave orders to have the statue removed to the Valerian villa within the hour.
“You are generous, Antigonus,” Arria said. “Especially to Marcus, who has so little regard for true beauty.”
Leaning back indolently, Marcus smiled at her mockingly. “True beauty is rare, and seldom recognized by the one who possesses it.”
Flushed with anger, Arria rose gracefully. Smiling, she placed a slender jeweled hand on Antigonus’ shoulder. “Go carefully, dear friend, lest you sell yourself to a plebeian’s ambition.”
Antigonus watched her walk away and then grinned at Marcus. “Fair Arria has heard about your tryst with Fannia.”
“One woman is a pleasure, two a curse,” Marcus said and turned the conversation back to politics and eventually to building contracts. He might as well make use of Antigonus’ advent into the senate. By sunrise, he had all the guarantees he needed to spread his own name as a builder throughout Rome and fill his coffers with gold talents.
His goal would be achieved. Before he reached the age of twenty-five, he would surpass his father’s wealth and position.
----
5
Contents - Prev / Next
Hadassah stood straight among the long line of Jewish men and women as richly dressed Ephesian slavers walked through the captives, looking for the healthier prospects. Some measure of protection had been offered the Jewish captives as long as they marched with Titus, but now that he had departed for Alexandria, slavers fell upon them, picking over them like vultures looking for carrion to devour.
Seven hundred of the fittest and most handsome men had gone with Titus, marching south again with his legions to see the remains of Jerusalem before the journey to Egypt. From there, they’d sail to Rome. Titus would present his captives in the Triumph and send them into the games in the arena.
One woman cried out as a Roman guard stripped her of her ragged tunic, allowing the slaver a closer examination. When she tried to cover herself with her hands, the guard struck her. Sobbing, she stood still beneath the two men’s perusal.
“She isn’t worth a sesterce,” the slaver said in disgust and moved on. The Roman threw the torn tunic against her.
The most beautiful women had long since been used by the Roman officers and then sold off in the cities through which they marched. It was a motley group that was left: old women and children mostly, and others who were too unattractive to have drawn attention from the Roman soldiers. Yet, though they weren’t beautiful, they had a quality about them. They had survived months of grueling marches and hardship. In every city through which Titus passed, games had been held and thousands of captives had died. Yet these few remained alive.
When Titus had taken the Herodian princess Berenice as his mistress, there had been a brief time of hope that the Jews would be spared more games. They prayed that Berenice would deliver them as Queen Esther had done centuries before. However, Titus’ love for the beautiful young
“We’ll see,” Marcus said.
They returned to the house and rejoined the party. Pensive, Marcus reclined on the couch near Antigonus. The wine flowed freely as they talked politics. Bored, Arria mentioned Marcus’ fascination with the statue of the lovers. Antigonus’ brows dropped and he changed the subject. Marcus suggested the possibility of future financial needs, bemoaning the cost of putting on games for the mob, parties for the aristocracy, and other expensive obligations of political office. Antigonus soon saw the need for generosity.
“The statue will be in Valerian gardens by the end of next week,” he offered grandly.
Marcus knew the way Antigonus’ mind worked. He conveniently forgot promises when he was drunk. Smiling slightly, Marcus poured himself and Antigonus more wine. “I’ll take care of the arrangements,” he said and signaled one of the slaves.
Antigonus’ countenance fell as Marcus gave orders to have the statue removed to the Valerian villa within the hour.
“You are generous, Antigonus,” Arria said. “Especially to Marcus, who has so little regard for true beauty.”
Leaning back indolently, Marcus smiled at her mockingly. “True beauty is rare, and seldom recognized by the one who possesses it.”
Flushed with anger, Arria rose gracefully. Smiling, she placed a slender jeweled hand on Antigonus’ shoulder. “Go carefully, dear friend, lest you sell yourself to a plebeian’s ambition.”
Antigonus watched her walk away and then grinned at Marcus. “Fair Arria has heard about your tryst with Fannia.”
“One woman is a pleasure, two a curse,” Marcus said and turned the conversation back to politics and eventually to building contracts. He might as well make use of Antigonus’ advent into the senate. By sunrise, he had all the guarantees he needed to spread his own name as a builder throughout Rome and fill his coffers with gold talents.
His goal would be achieved. Before he reached the age of twenty-five, he would surpass his father’s wealth and position.
----
5
Contents - Prev / Next
Hadassah stood straight among the long line of Jewish men and women as richly dressed Ephesian slavers walked through the captives, looking for the healthier prospects. Some measure of protection had been offered the Jewish captives as long as they marched with Titus, but now that he had departed for Alexandria, slavers fell upon them, picking over them like vultures looking for carrion to devour.
Seven hundred of the fittest and most handsome men had gone with Titus, marching south again with his legions to see the remains of Jerusalem before the journey to Egypt. From there, they’d sail to Rome. Titus would present his captives in the Triumph and send them into the games in the arena.
One woman cried out as a Roman guard stripped her of her ragged tunic, allowing the slaver a closer examination. When she tried to cover herself with her hands, the guard struck her. Sobbing, she stood still beneath the two men’s perusal.
“She isn’t worth a sesterce,” the slaver said in disgust and moved on. The Roman threw the torn tunic against her.
The most beautiful women had long since been used by the Roman officers and then sold off in the cities through which they marched. It was a motley group that was left: old women and children mostly, and others who were too unattractive to have drawn attention from the Roman soldiers. Yet, though they weren’t beautiful, they had a quality about them. They had survived months of grueling marches and hardship. In every city through which Titus passed, games had been held and thousands of captives had died. Yet these few remained alive.
When Titus had taken the Herodian princess Berenice as his mistress, there had been a brief time of hope that the Jews would be spared more games. They prayed that Berenice would deliver them as Queen Esther had done centuries before. However, Titus’ love for the beautiful young
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