and there was Nicomachus, drunken and noisy, stinking of stale wine and rage. The first person he set eyes on was Mary, and he went straight over to her.
“So there you are,” he shouted. “Sanctimonious cow, you, who couldn't even give the family an heir. You needn't make any more efforts. Nor your bugger of a husband, either. There's an heir now, and that's my son.”
Four strong women soon removed Nicomachus and put him out onto the street.
“He'll find his way home, I suppose?” said one of the priestesses when they came back, and Mera replied that yes, he always found his way home.
A few hours later, Mera and her child were taken to Leonidas' house.
Mary said nothing about Nicomachus' attack on her, but meeting Leonidas in the merchant house, Livia was not so considerate, and she was frightened when she saw his reaction.
Only a few days later, Leonidas had a talk with Nicomachus. Mary was not told what was said at the meeting, only that Nicomachus was to move to the merchant house's office in Ostia to learn how the silk trade was run in that great harbor outside Rome.
“How did you get him to agree to it?”
“I gave him an ultimatum. He has been guilty of a number of irregularities here.”
Leonidas' tone of voice was curt and, as so many times before, Mary reckoned there was a side of Leonidas she had never known.
Mera and the child stayed with Mary for a few more weeks, so Mary found it difficult to concentrate on her writing. Not that Mera disturbed her. No, it was the child and his sweetness that kept her from her work. When he had the colic in the evenings and would not go to sleep, Mary walked him to and fro, singing and babbling to him. She had never mourned her own childlessness, but now that loss truly pained her.
There were other changes, too. Livia refused to allow Mera to live in a house as poorly guarded as Mary's, and with no servants to help in the house.
“I presume you think your innocence protects you from the evils of the world,” she said. “But that hardly protects Mera and the child. Antioch is getting more and more dangerous every year, robberies and murders almost everyday occurrences.”
Leonidas backed her up, for he had long worried about Mary being alone in the unprotected house and about her walking alone in town. So Mary had the guardhouse put in order and equipped it properly for servants.
Livia watched in surprise. “You must be ashamed to have slaves,” she said.
“Yes,” was Mary's simple reply.
Terentius was a Nubian, tall and very strong. When Mary first greeted him, she reckoned she had never seen a more handsome man, bronze colored, with the features of an Egyptian pharaoh. Then she realized whom he resembled, a relative of the statue of Isis in the courtyard of the Temple.
She liked him from the first moment, his wife, too, a fine-limbed graceful woman with modestly lowered eyelids.
What he and his wife thought of her she would never know. They were both mysteriously closed when it came to both emotions and thoughts.
She was soon able to admit it was good hearing Terentius' footsteps at night as he went around the house and garden. And it felt safe to have him a few steps behind her when she went to the synagogue and the marketplace. And she didn't have to do the cleaning.
Only the cooking she kept for herself.
Once, when she was putting dough into the oven and he walked past, she thought she saw a shadow of a smile on his face.
When Mera reluctantly gave in to her mother's demands that she should move back home with her child, Leonidas said, “I want Terentius and his wife to stay here.”
Mary could hear from his tone of voice that he had been expecting protests, but before she could open her mouth he said he was not going to give in on that point. “I've already told Livia that I want to buy them.”
When Leonidas had begun this conversation, Mary had been relieved, glad of the help and security the two servants gave her. It was when he
“So there you are,” he shouted. “Sanctimonious cow, you, who couldn't even give the family an heir. You needn't make any more efforts. Nor your bugger of a husband, either. There's an heir now, and that's my son.”
Four strong women soon removed Nicomachus and put him out onto the street.
“He'll find his way home, I suppose?” said one of the priestesses when they came back, and Mera replied that yes, he always found his way home.
A few hours later, Mera and her child were taken to Leonidas' house.
Mary said nothing about Nicomachus' attack on her, but meeting Leonidas in the merchant house, Livia was not so considerate, and she was frightened when she saw his reaction.
Only a few days later, Leonidas had a talk with Nicomachus. Mary was not told what was said at the meeting, only that Nicomachus was to move to the merchant house's office in Ostia to learn how the silk trade was run in that great harbor outside Rome.
“How did you get him to agree to it?”
“I gave him an ultimatum. He has been guilty of a number of irregularities here.”
Leonidas' tone of voice was curt and, as so many times before, Mary reckoned there was a side of Leonidas she had never known.
Mera and the child stayed with Mary for a few more weeks, so Mary found it difficult to concentrate on her writing. Not that Mera disturbed her. No, it was the child and his sweetness that kept her from her work. When he had the colic in the evenings and would not go to sleep, Mary walked him to and fro, singing and babbling to him. She had never mourned her own childlessness, but now that loss truly pained her.
There were other changes, too. Livia refused to allow Mera to live in a house as poorly guarded as Mary's, and with no servants to help in the house.
“I presume you think your innocence protects you from the evils of the world,” she said. “But that hardly protects Mera and the child. Antioch is getting more and more dangerous every year, robberies and murders almost everyday occurrences.”
Leonidas backed her up, for he had long worried about Mary being alone in the unprotected house and about her walking alone in town. So Mary had the guardhouse put in order and equipped it properly for servants.
Livia watched in surprise. “You must be ashamed to have slaves,” she said.
“Yes,” was Mary's simple reply.
Terentius was a Nubian, tall and very strong. When Mary first greeted him, she reckoned she had never seen a more handsome man, bronze colored, with the features of an Egyptian pharaoh. Then she realized whom he resembled, a relative of the statue of Isis in the courtyard of the Temple.
She liked him from the first moment, his wife, too, a fine-limbed graceful woman with modestly lowered eyelids.
What he and his wife thought of her she would never know. They were both mysteriously closed when it came to both emotions and thoughts.
She was soon able to admit it was good hearing Terentius' footsteps at night as he went around the house and garden. And it felt safe to have him a few steps behind her when she went to the synagogue and the marketplace. And she didn't have to do the cleaning.
Only the cooking she kept for herself.
Once, when she was putting dough into the oven and he walked past, she thought she saw a shadow of a smile on his face.
When Mera reluctantly gave in to her mother's demands that she should move back home with her child, Leonidas said, “I want Terentius and his wife to stay here.”
Mary could hear from his tone of voice that he had been expecting protests, but before she could open her mouth he said he was not going to give in on that point. “I've already told Livia that I want to buy them.”
When Leonidas had begun this conversation, Mary had been relieved, glad of the help and security the two servants gave her. It was when he
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