Date: Thu, 10 Mar 2011 22:09:29 +1100
From: aureliusrufus@hushmail.com
Subject: The Household of Aurelius Rufus: Part One

The noisy, jostling crowd at the Capuan slave market parted as the wealthy
man's retinue created a clear route for their master to pass. And not just
any wealthy man -- the haggling dealers and tradesmen quickly noted the
broad purple stripe on the man's tunic beneath the snowy toga. A senator,
then. Better get out of the way. You didn't see many senators at the market
-- the noble class tended to pass slaves between members of the
family. Or get them in job lots when they conquered some barbarian tribe.

A preference for buying his own slaves was just one of this senator's
eccentricities. Lucius Aurelius Rufus lived almost permanently in Capua
instead of Rome. At 35 he should have been standing for election as a Roman
magistrate but he had shown no interest in the cursus honorum -- the
political career expected of a man of his age and class, preferring a quiet
life with his books and art. Life could be dangerous for a Roman nobleman
in these uncertain times, but Rufus was a distant cousin to the proconsul
and conqueror Gaius Julius Caesar through the general's mother Aurelia.
That relationship, and his avoidance of political controversy the was
enough to protect him from the violence that had marred Roman political
life for the past century.

`So,' Rufus remarked to his fifteen year old body servant Kalon. `We have
found a tedious old amanuensis to train you as my secretary as you asked.
Now we simply need to purchase your replacement.'

`Are you sure any boy could replace me domine?' laughed the youth.

`Don't simper, boy, it's unattractive. I can hardly deal with tenants and
creditors with a giggling tart as a secretary. I could just give you your
freedom now and let you earn your keep with your arse in some tradesmen's
whorehouse.'

The boy smirked, then quickly composed his face into a businesslike frown
as they neared the next dealer. The trader was an overdressed Syrian with
oiled ringlets and his eyes bulged as he saw the senatorial stripe
approaching.

`My master the Senator Lucius Valerius Rufus seeks a boy to be trained as a
body slave,' announced Kalon. Senators might be rare in the slave market
but there were few enough of them in Capua for Rufus's name and history to
be known.

`The noble cousin of the conquering Caesar!' smiled the Syrian. `Welcome to
the humble establishment of Paramedes. A boy, you say? We have a number of
young men trained as valets and masseurs...'

`Not a young man,' replied Rufus. `I have no patience for re-training a
youth to my household's requirements,; they have too much to un-learn. A
boy. Say twelve years old, perhaps?'

`Ah. The noble Senator has exacting requirements. I am afraid we have only
one item in that range -- and I cannot recommend him. A barbarian Gaul
-- spoils of your glorious cousins conquest of Armorica. Barely tame.'

`Show me.'

Paramedes gestured to an assistant who went through a hanging at the rear
of the stall, returning leading -- almost dragging -- a reluctant boy
by his tied hands. The boy was naked except for a loincloth, blond, thin
and wirily muscled. Paramedes was a canny enough merchant to notice the
senator's eyes widen slightly and mentally added a few denarii to the
starting price. The senator was not eccentric enough to bargain with a
slave trader himself and waved his steward forward, while he and Kalon
stepped outside.

`Are you sure that's what you want, domine? He looks like he might make a
farmhand rather than ahem a body slave.'

`You hardly need to be euphemistic speaking only to me, boy. Did you see
him? The hair, the face, the eyes? He is like a young god. I must have
him.'

`Will there be much pleasure between those skinny cheeks, dominus?'

"He needs a bit of fattening up, I grant you, but I'm sure he will be very,
erm, athletic. And a change from plump young Greeks.'

Burrus the steward emerged from the stall leading the Gaulish boy. `What's
his name?' asked Rufus.

`Couldn't work it out, domine. His Latin is awful.'

`He looks like a young deer -- all bone and muscle. We'll call him
Cervus. Come along Kalon.'

But the young slave was gazing open-mouthed at the platform on the other
side of the path, where a trader was displaying his goods. A curly haired
boy about the same age ans the newly named Cervus was standing there
batting improbably long eyelashes at them. Kalon turned to his master.

`Now that would make a bodyservant.'

`I've just bought one. I hardly need another.'

`Well, in that case, could you ... for me...?'

Rufus laughed. `Oh I see. Very well you little pervert. Burrus! If you can
get him for under 300 denarii go and buy him.'

Kalon would have hugged his master if it had not been in public. `Thank
you, thank you domine.  How can I repay you?'

`I imagine we shall work something out when we get home. Possibly including
that little Greek tart, if I'm not mistaken.' They waited until the steward
returned.

`Got him for 280 domine. Name's Hektor. Raised in the household of Titus
Oppius the freedman.'

`Oppius? Interesting,' mused Rufus. `Do you have any contacts in that
household?'

`Know the cook from the market, domine.'

`Good. We shall walk home with our purchases while you...' he leaned closer
to the slave and murmured, `...find out why the second-richest trader in
Capua is selling an able-bodied young slave the open market. Look after the
boy Kalon -- he is your, erm, protégé, after all. Make sure they are both
washed clean of the slave-market muck, given a clean tunic and brought to
me in my study. Let us go.'



* * * * * * * * * * *

A couple of hours later the three young slaves, bathed, scented, freshly
clothed and, in the case of the newcomers, barbered stood in front of the
master in his study.

`Excellent,' he said. `Now, young Cervus...'

The blond Gaul took a second to respond to his new name.

`... your duties will include looking after my clothes, dressing me and
keeping my bedroom clean and neat. Kalon will, erm, induct you into your
other duties at a later time. You will find I am a fair master -- but run
away and I will have you brought back and branded. Steal and I shall sell
you to a brothel where farm labourers can fuck your skinny arse for
coppers. Is that clear?'

Cervus nodded without lifting his eyes. Kalon giggled inwardly. His master
had made these sorts of threats before but Kalon remembered the Thracian
youth who had rejected the idea of acting as Rufus's `body slave'. He had
run away twice when Kalon was about nine. The dominus has merely sold him
to an aged and half-blind widowed aunt in Campania where he now enjoyed
tending her fruit trees and fucking the girl who looked after the
poultry. Kalon suspected the master's essential kindness was the main
reason he had stayed away from politics.

`Very well Cervus, you may go. If you go to the kitchen, I dare say cook
can find something for you to eat -- boys your age always seem hungry.'
He waited for the Gallic boy to shyly back out of the room before turning
to the other newcomer.

`And as for you, boy, why did your previous master sell you?'

`It was my mistress domine. The master was in Rome.'

`So why did your domina sell you then?'

`I don't know.'

`Really? Your domina's cook says you had been making eyes at the master and
his wife took the chance to get you out of the house before you replaced
her in his bed.'

The boy blushed gracefully and said nothing.

`Well, you should have no such problems here, Hektor. My wife lives in Rome
with trips to our seaside villa at Baiae. I haven't been in her bed since
we conceived our daughter six years ago. Come here.'

With an obviously feigned air of modest reluctance, Hektor approached the
master's chair. Rufus began stroking his cheek.