Date: Mon, 07 Jan 2008 02:20:15 -0600
From: caninkor@sasktel.net
Subject: Three Pieces of Gold, Part 1

This story is set in the Roman Empire, and therefore, obviously not true.
If you're not meant nor allowed to be here - and you know who you are -
skedaddle!

I started out to write a stroke story, and somewhere along the line
discovered I liked creative writing.  Therefore, what started out as a
stroke story with scant plot, became a short story with some - but not a
lot - of sex in it.  If you're looking to get off by page ten, probably
this story's not for you.  If you tend to the less-explicit-but-more-erotic
side, then this story might just be for you.

One last thing:  The Roman Empire era is one of my fascinations.
Therefore, I have a somewhat better idea than many how to accurately depict
this era.  However, I am no expert and there will always be people better
schooled in this area than me.  I  apologize in advance if there are
blatant mistakes in my depiction.  The meaning of any Latin I've used, I've
tried to make self-evident.


THREE PIECES OF GOLD
~ a short story by
R. Cameron Reece

Prologue:

Blood spattered across his chest as his fist pulverized the nose of the man
in front of him.  Under different circumstances, they might have been
equally matched, but the aggressor's manic rage preordained the outcome.
As the victim fell to his knees, begging for mercy, red bubbles forming
from the place his obliterated nose used to be, the assailant reached down,
gripped the bloodied head in the vice of his impressive biceps, and
twisted.  An audible pop was heard, much like the sound of cracking
knuckles, and the body went limp in his arms.

"That, worm, is the price of greed and betrayal."  As a final token, he
spit on the limp, twisted form lying at his feet.

Such was the haze of his fury, that he would only remember accounts of this
night, second-hand, from witnesses who testified against him.

chapter one

There were two reasons Giovanni noticed the man right away as he came
through the doorway.  The first was that Giovanni knew everybody in this
neighbourhood, especially those who bought bread at their shop.  And two,
the man was massive.  Giovanni knew right away that he was not a politician
or senator, nor was he a centurion from the Emperor Domiziano's legions.
By his tunic, and the condition of his sandals, it appeared at first glance
that he was a slave.  When he spoke, his accent was strange. He was not
native to Roma for certain, but still his Latin lacked the guttural sounds
of the slaves from Jerusalem who were so commonplace these days.  Yet there
was a haughty bearing to his nature, and the way that he looked directly
into his pater's eyes also added to Giovanni's suspicions.  No slave lived
well enough to have the hard, healthy body this man did.

The thought ran through Giovanni's mind to wonder what his swarthy skin
felt like, on pecs that caused his leather tunic to be stretched taut.
Just as these thoughts were born in his mind, the man looked over at him,
as if he could sense Gio's thoughts.  Giovanni blushed crimson.  He quickly
put his head down, but not quickly enough to avoid making eye contact.  For
that split second, it seemed that the man could see right into his soul.

"Castor and Pollux, Gio!  Stop daydreaming and pay attention to what you
are doing.  If that wheat is not ground any finer than yesterday's, no one
will come to our shop to buy our focaccia anymore."

Giovanni sighed and with a spirit of resignation went back to mashing the
pestle, that was half as big again as he was, into the enormous mortar with
more force.  Everyday it was the same old routine.  Get up before the break
of day, fetch two stones of wheat from one of the farmers hawking their
produce in the macella, return to the shop at the front of his house, and
grind it all until it was fine enough to suit his father for making bread.

He longed to be free of this dull, uninspiring existence.  After all, at
fourteen, he was nearly a man!  His body had really filled out the last
couple of years.  Gio felt proud when he examined himself lately.  His
upper body was especially built from all the work he did every day,
grinding wheat.  And the fine line of black hair that started at his belly
button led down to a very impressive pisello.  The gods were kind to him,
Gio decided, after being at the baths and comparing himself to the other
men and boys there.  He definitely had more manhood swinging between his
legs than the other boys his age, and even bigger than some of the men.

Giovanni wondered at the size of his father's pisello, that his own could
be so big.  He guessed that it must be big as well, for many nights, he was
awakened by the sounds of his mater on the other side of the dividing
curtain as his father thrust his manhood into her.  And when the moon was
full, there was enough light shining through the window that he could see
the actions on the other side of the curtain in silhouette.  As a young boy
he couldn't understand what was happening when his father would mount his
mother like some bitch cur, causing her to cry out, and after some minutes,
his father too, would curse by Castor, Pollux, and the other gods and then
grow very quiet.

However, he was smart enough to realize that this was something he probably
was not supposed to see, and if he made his parents aware that he was a
witness, by asking about their actions, all would likely stop.  Giovanni
didn't want that to happen.  He loved the feeling he got inside as he
watched his father's bare ass thrust up against his mother.  If he was
really quiet, he could often move in such a way on his side of the curtain
as to catch a glimpse of his father's hard member as it disappeared between
his mother's legs.

As he got older, he also discovered how good he could make himself feel by
stroking his pisello.  It was great fun to rub it so hard that his young
boy seed would come, all over his chest.  By this time, too, he had a
pretty good idea of what was happening on the other side of the curtain,
and guessed that at the moment when his father often swore by the gods, he
was shooting his seed into Giovanni's mother.  Giovanni liked it best when
he timed his strokes to match his father's thrusts, and could shoot his
seed at the same time his father was shooting into his mother.

The sad truth that he tried not to think about, however, was this: Nothing
short of a miracle from the gods would get him out of what seemed almost to
be a tedious, preordained fate.  He was born to a poor baker.  There was no
money for an education.  All he could read and write, and the sums he could
cipher, were what his mother taught him when he had time in the evenings.
With no money, little education, and no land titles, he could not look
forward to a soldier's life, or the life of a politician.  In fact, he
could not look forward to anything more than marrying the daughter of one
of the other neighbourhood tradesmen, eventually taking over the shop from
his father, and eking out a living as a baker, just as his father, and his
father's father had done before him.

What he longed for however, was to leave here; leave the dreary,
monotonous, repetition of his daily life; leave this neighbourhood; maybe
even leave Roma.  There was a big world out there, beyond Giovanni's
wildest imaginings, as evidenced by all the different kinds of slaves the
centurions and their legions brought back to the capital.  Why, one he saw
had skin even darker than night!  Giovanni often wondered what went through
the gods' minds to make such a bizarre choice for skin colour.

Finally the man spoke.  "Give me dua foccacii, please."

"Sic sapiens," Giovanni's father nodded and replied.

A smile briefly flashed on the stranger's face, making his eyes light up.
"I am no philosopher, sir, unless you count the study of death."

Several thoughts came rapidly to the fore of Giovanni's mind, one on the
back of the other.  "With eyes that colour of green, he must be from the
north country.  Study death?  Of course!  A gladiator!  That would explain
his dress and his strong body," Gio guessed.  "But gladiators are not
liberi, not free men!"

"By Jupiter, Gio," Giovanni's father's thunderous voice broke his
reverie. As was his wont, when Giovanni's mind was active, his hands were
not.  "Get the man his focaccia!"

Startled, Giovanni dropped the pestle he had been working with.  It fell
with a clatter, tipped over the edge of the mortar, and in the process,
flung freshly ground wheat flour into the air, a great deal of which landed
on the sandals of the gladiator. "Me indulgeo!"  Giovanni cried.  "I'm
sorry!"  He trembled as he spoke, not knowing which man to fear most, his
father, or the gladiator.

He flinched as his father took the flat of his hand, and swiftly struck
Giovanni's face, then backhanded him for a second blow.  "Stupid boy.  You
never watch your hands at work.  Good for nothing!  Always dreaming about
some place other than here."  His father raised his hand as if to strike
Giovanni once again, when the stranger spoke.

"It was an accident.  I forgive the boy!"  His voice, while soft, had a
tone of slight menace.  Giovanni's father slowly lowered his hand.  The
stranger continued, "Maybe the boy is not lazy.  Maybe he is simply suited
to a different work.  I am looking for a man to give me salus, some help; a
servant if you will.  This young boy is precisely what I had in mind.
Would you consider allowing the boy to come with me?"  Gio couldn't believe
his ears!  To be a warrior's second, his aide!  What better opportunity was
likely to come through the door of a baker's shop?!

"Nequaquam, absolutely not! "His father was adamant.  "Who would I get to
grind my flour?!  Out of the question!"  Gio had never before had his
spirits rise so high, and come crashing down so low, all in the space of
two breaths.  "Besides, where would a mancipium, a slave like you get money
to be someone's altor, his patron, and protector?!"

"Not all bellatori are slaves, sir," the stranger replied.  "If one fights
well, and the crowds like him, sometimes he can earn his
emancipation. Maybe this will help you to change your mind," the stranger
said, dipping into a leather pouch hanging at his side.  He took out three
very large gold coins, bearing the face of Nero and placed them on the
small table.  "In fact, if a fighting man is very, very good, he may even
make money."

Never before had Giovanni seen that much money in one place, at one time.
His mouth gaped open; no more so than his father's, however.  "For the love
of Venus," his father swore, softly."

"I am confident this will be sufficient to hire some peon to grind all the
flour you would need, for many years to come, " the gladiator continued.
"However, if you aren't willing ..." he made as if to scoop up the coins
again.

"No!" Gio almost shouted but he needn't have bothered.

"Let's not be hasty, good sir," his father purred, demeanor suddenly
changed.  "I must consult with the boy's mother, before I make any
decision."  Giovanni knew this to be horse shit.  His father never let his
mother make any important decisions.  Ever.  He saw this for what it was; a
chance for his father to save face.

A moment later, his father emerged from the portal separating their
sleeping quarters from the shop in front.  "His mother wants to know how we
can be assured of his safety.  We hardly know you," his tone was
obsequious.  In point of fact, they didn't know him at all, but his father
had a smooth way with words and was skilled in negotiation.

"I have killed savage beasts from far away lands with nothing more than my
dagger and a rock.  On a day, three summers ago, seven men were no match
for me.  The would-be cut-purse who assails me on a dark street at night
finds himself face down in his own entrails.  You need have no fear of this
fine young man's safety while in my charge."

Gio blushed again at the man's words.  The thought of spending every day
with this man, taking care of his personal needs made his member stir
between his legs.  Gio quickly bent over to pick up the forgotten pestle
and started back to work in an effort to hide the sudden bulge evident
under his tunic.  It suddenly occurred to him why the prospect of finding a
neighbourhood girl for his wife never appealed to him.  He would be more
happy in the arms of this strong, virile, albeit somewhat frightening man.

"I cannot find a good worker over night," his father finally said. "Come
back on the day of the full moon, and the boy will be yours."  As his
father made to snatch the three coins, the gladiator's large hand shot out
and stopped him.

"I will leave you one coin now," said the bellator, "to show my good faith.
The other two I will give you when you make the boy available to me."

Just like that, Giovanni was sold for three pieces of gold.  It didn't
bother him that he was no more than property to his father, all that
mattered to him was that at last he was free; of the drudgery; of the
oppressive heat from the ovens; of the dreary fate of a baker!

That night a bit of light came shining through the window exciting Gio at
the thought of the coming full moon, and what its coming meant. He watched
his father mount his mother in the usual fashion.  As his father's bare ass
sawed back and forth into his mother, this time Gio's attention was not on
his father.  All he could see in his mind was his own body, in his mother's
position, with the strong arms of the gladiator wrapped around his chest,
thrusting between his legs with an urgency that climaxed in both their seed
coming.  As Gio stroked his hard phallus to orgasm, he came harder than
ever before, thinking of this strong saviour that had miraculously appeared
in his father's bakery today, rescuing him.  So strong was his orgasm, as
his seed continued to spurt on his face and chest, that he couldn't help
the moan that escaped his lips.  For a moment he froze in fear of being
heard by his parents, only an arm's length away.  He needn't have worried
however, the moans of his mother, and the curses of his father more than
covered his own sounds of ecstasy.

As he drifted off to a contented sleep, a hazy thought hovered at the edge
of Giovanni's mind.  He didn't even find out his saviour's name.  No
matter, with only a few days to the fully-round moon, he could wait.  Ahh,
freedom at last.

chapter two

The next days seemed to drag on interminably for Giovanni.  At times his
joy and excitement at his impending freedom caused him to throw himself
into his work, earning a rare compliment from his father.  At others,
wonder at his fate, and a curiosity at what his new life would bring found
him with a wandering mind, and a sore body from the clouts his father gave
him to snap him out of his reverie.

Giovanni really had no idea of what to expect his duties would be.  A
companion to fill this man's sexual needs could be found at a much cheaper
price than three pieces of gold; indeed, even free.  Many a senator chose
an underling to groom as his successor, but rarely from among the plebs,
and anyway, this man was no senator.  Therefore, a life of book-learning
and study of philosophy was probably not in store for him.  There might be
some training of a military bent given his new master's career.  Gio just
did not know what to expect.

At last the day arrived.  If Giovanni had thought the preceding days
dragged out, the last few hours of the morning seemed to make those days
fairly race in comparison.  The focaccia and olives he ate for breakfast
seemed to just sit in a lump in his stomach.  His heart at times seemed to
beat too quickly, at others not fast enough.

Then just before the second meal of the day, the light in the room dimmed,
signaling someone in the doorway. Giovanni's head spun around, for the
tenth time that morning.  His heart skipped a beat, and then, another.  He
had come!

"Greetings in the name of Domiziano," the man formally intoned.

"Sic, long live the emperor," Giovanni's father gave the requisite
response.

"Are you well, lad?" His focus turned to Giovanni.

Giovanni coughed and sputtered out a "yes, sir."  He had forgotten to
breathe since the man had stepped through the door.

"Very well.  Do you have any belongings that you wish to bring with you?"

"Just my cloak, sir, and one other tunic." Giovanni had not yet, made eye
contact with the stranger, such was his nervousness.  There was a pause. As
it lengthened, Gio thought he must have said something wrong.  Timidly, he
raised his head just enough to make eye contact.  "Sir?" he intoned.

"My name is Aelius, amicus.  And please, there is no need to call me
"sir"."

He called me friend!  Not for the first time that day, Giovanni's hear
skipped a beat.

"Go get your things, then and we shall be on our way."  As Giovanni
scurried into the back room, he heard the stranger - no, no longer a
stranger; Aelius - speaking to his father.  "Here is the remaining gold you
are due, baker."  As Giovanni emerged from the back room, and made for the
door, Aelius placed his arm around the boy's shoulders.  "Shall we depart,
then?"  A jolt of warmth shot through Giovanni's body at the proximity of
the strong man's body to his own.

It was later that night, as he lay there trying to fall asleep, that it
would occur to him that he had not even said good-bye to his parents.

"May I ask where we are going sir - Aelius, sir," Giovanni corrected
himself.  They had been walking twenty minutes, and already he was in a
part of Roma he was not familiar with.  It was disorienting for Giovanni,
walking very far in Roma.  All but the major streets were a rat's maze of
curving paths and dead ends.  And there was often nothing to distinguish
one area from another.  A vegetable market here or there, was a little
different, but it was a vegetable market, just the same.  Right next to
that was the market for hawking livestock; the chickens at one market
looked just the same as at another.  The bakery had a different name, but
it was still just a variation on a theme.  All the houses were the same, no
matter where one was in Roma.  In fact, except for standing on one of
Roma's seven hills, to get a town-wide perspective, or being near one of
the town's famous landmarks - Nero's colossus was hard to mistake, and
one's nose could not mistake the urine-rancid odour of the cloth dyers -
for one, not intimately acquainted with a particular part of the city, it
was nearly impossible to know exactly where he was.

Aelius chuckled, and his eyes held a twinkle when Gio ventured to glance up
at him.  "There you are with that "sir" thing again, Gio.  Really, it's not
necessary.  When we are among people where it will matter, you should call
me "master", otherwise, I hope you will call me Aelius.  Even "Lee" is
fine."

"Yes sir, I mean, Lee."

"To answer your question, do you know where the newest amphitheatre is?"

"Near the giant statue of Nero, you mean?"

"Yes, the Flavian Amphitheatre.  I live very near there.  I hope you will
not be disappointed with my humble quarters.  It is not many years that I
have enjoyed my freedom, and I am not a rich man."

Giovanni wondered at this.  Having given his father more money than he had
ever seen, made Gio think Lee must have been very affluent, despite the way
he dressed.  He had forgotten about the conversation his father had with
Lee on the first day in the bakery.  He had mentioned that he was "freed",
indicating that at some point he was a slave or a prisoner.  If indeed
then, he was a recently-freed man, then where did he get three pieces of
gold at one time, and why was Lee willing to part with it for him?!
Giovanni's mind was full of questions, but he held his tongue.  He did not
want to offend his new ... master? friend? liberator? father? - Gio was at
a loss for a label - on the first day.

"I'm sure it will be fine," he replied, almost as an afterthought.  "My
father is only a baker.  We are not rich, either.  WERE not rich."  Gio
found it difficult to think of the only life he ever knew, even as late as
this morning, as the past.

"Here we are," said Aelius, as they arrived.  He unlocked the gate and
motioned for the boy to step inside.  It took several moments for
Giovanni's eyes to adjust to the dim interior.  Once he could see, he
glanced shyly around.  Aelius was right.  The accommodations were rather
modest, but then again, it was not as if he had been accustomed to palatial
quarters before today.

"It's very simple," Aelius apologized again, "but I don't do a whole lot
here besides sleep.  Even eating, often I do down the street.  You can put
your things over there on that table."

"It's fine, sir- Lee.  I don't need very much."

"Are you hungry, lad?"  Aelius asked?

"A little," Gio was shy to reply.

"Well then, let's go over to the market to get some fruit to snack on, and
something else to have for dinner.  At the same time, I can show you some
of your new neighbourhood."

Later, after they returned from the market and sat eating apples and
grapes, Aelius spoke.  "You are wondering about who I am and whence I
came."  It was more of a statement than a question.

"Uh...No!"  Giovanni's emphatic response was an admission of his guilt.

"I was born north of here, in a place called Ravenna."  Aelius continued as
if Giovanni had not spoken.  "It is several days' journey away, on
horseback, along the coast.  My father was a fisherman and I should have
been a fisherman, too, but I was afraid."

Giovanni's eyebrows shot up at this.  He could not imagine Lee being afraid
of anything.  Why, he fought and killed wild beasts bigger than horses from
far away lands!

Aelius flashed Giovanni an indulgent smile and said, "Oh, yes, even I have
my fears.  I am afraid of going out on the water.  So, in a fishing
village, when one is afraid to go out and fish, there is only one other
logical choice for making a living.  And not to become a gladiator!"
Aelius chuckled.  "No, I mean to become a builder of boats."

"So, did you .....  eat fish?"

Aelius could not suppress a chuckle at lad's seeming non sequitor,
embarrassing Giovanni.  He had forgotten that any creature from the sea,
even to one as wealthy as a Senator, was a delicacy, indeed.  It was a
joke, universal among all fishermen, that their everyday, common fare
should be valued so highly by those who had so much.

"Yes, Gio," murmured Aelius, his thoughts in a far away place, a far away
time.  "But a steady diet of sea food is not as glamourous as you might
think."

"But -"

"How did I end up being a fighter in Roma from being a builder of boats?"
Aelius seem to have this uncanny ability to read Gio's thoughts.  The boy
wondered just how deeply he could see into his mind.

"I had been building vessels for seven years.  It was my job to spread pine
resin on the joints of the wood to make it sea-worthy.  The master I worked
for was my father's cousin.  He had seen many moons, and soon would turn
the whole operation over to me.

It was a difficult life for my father.  For several seasons, Neptune had
not allowed the fish to swim in our waters.  If soon the fish did not come
back, he would lose everything.  One day, as I was working on the docks, I
saw his boat come into the port.  She was sitting very low in the water.
That could mean only two things.  She was either taking on water, in which
case, I would have a great task ahead of me, or she was burdened down with
a great catch.

I eagerly waited for her to come within hearing distance.  "Hail the ship!"
I cried out.  ""Hail landlubber," was the reply.  What was a friendly taunt
of affection from those who were my friends, irritated me when used by
others.  It was not my father's voice, but that of his fishing partner.  I
did not like this man.  To me, he seemed very untrustworthy but it was not
for me to question my father's judgment.  Where was my father? I wondered.

"Hadrienus - that was my father's partner's name - said no more until he
threw me the rope to secure him to the wharf.  'I have bad news, Aelius.'
he said.  'There was an accident and your father fell overboard.  I could
not save him.  I almost could not get so laden a vessel back to port on my
own.'  I stared at him, numb.  'I will go tell my mother,' I told him
woodenly.  Such an accident was not unheard of, indeed, 'twas a risk of the
trade.  Still, I had more faith in my father than that.  A doubt pricked at
me like too much sour wine in my stomach.  Something was not quite right
about this story but I had no way to discount anything Hadrienus told me.

"Ahh, but it getting late.  Maybe I should continue this story another
time."

"Of course.  Lee."  Giovanni used his master's familiar as almost an
afterthought.  It still felt strange rolling off of his tongue instead of
the more common 'sir' he had been programmed to use since childhood.

"Tomorrow I will introduce you to Agda.  She cooks my - our - dinner
usually.  She owns a shop nearby on the Via della Bovis, Aelius said.  You
will spend much of your time there, in the coming days, learning from her."

Giovanni was slightly offended.  What could he learn from a woman?  To take
lessons to cipher words and numbers from his mother when he was a child was
one thing, but what would people think if they knew a grown (almost) man
was taking lessons from a woman?!  Anyway, what did she have that she could
teach him?

As always, Aelius seem to read his thoughts.  "Agda is no common woman," he
went on.  "She knows everything there is to know about plants, herbs,
spices and their uses.  I expect you to learn how to make oils that will
soothe my body when it aches from combat.  If I have been poisoned, I
expect you to have learned the antidote.  There is a myriad of things that
Agda can teach you.  And what's even better, she's an excellent cook."
There was a hint of laughter in Aelius's voice.

"So that explains it," thought Giovanni. "She's an herb witch."

"Speaking of cooking, I'm hungry.  What do you say to the idea of having
something to eat?"

Gio had not noticed until that very minute just how hungry he was.  The
fruit had long since disappeared from his stomach.  He had been too
fascinated by Aelius's story, however, to realize it until just then.
"Yes!" was his emphatic reply.

Whether due to a full stomach, or the energy-eating excitement brought
about from the complete change in his life, Gio found that it wasn't long
after dinner before he was tired, and ready for bed.  Aelius had mentioned
an early start the next day, so Giovanni figured it wise to turn in early
and have a complete night's rest.

Tired as he was, Giovanni lay awake thinking of all the events of this day
long after the regular rhythmic breathing of Aelius, lying on the mat next
to him told the boy his new master was fast asleep.  In the space of
several days, and more specifically just today, his life changed more than
his heretofore-sheltered mind could barely comprehend.  How did Lee - Gio
found himself warming to the familiar moniker - get from being a boat
builder to the mighty warrior he was?  Was it safe to be in the company of
a witch?  Especially, to eat her cooking?  Speaking of cooking and eating,
imagine, eating all the fish you could want!  What does fish taste like?
Like chicken?  Or duck?  Like pork?  Like the meat of a cow?  Gio had only
tasted meat from a cow once or twice, so he couldn't really remember what
that tasted like anyway.  What would tomorrow have in store for him?  And
the days after that?

Suddenly, in the wake of the high that one gets from an overload of
excitement, Giovanni felt alone.  It was one thing to look forward to
courting adventure from the end of a pestle, it was quite another to be
actually living one.  While grinding up wheat in his father's shop was
mundane beyond all he knew, there was a certain security to be found in
knowing exactly what your day - or for that matter, your week; your month -
had in store for you.  In fact, Giovanni felt a little frightened of all
the unknowns awaiting him in his new life.

Giovanni wanted to be held.  Growing up with no brothers or sisters,
physical affection to him was almost a foreign concept, but once he got the
idea into his head, it held on with the tenacity of a dog to a bone.
Somehow he knew that being held would drive his fears away.

He didn't want to wake his new mentor for such a silly request, however.
Slowly he inched his mat closer to that of Aelius.  Gingerly he lifted the
edge of the woolen covering that was over Aelius.  The man did not stir.
Gio wriggled under the edge, overlapping his own cover with Aelius's.  It
might not be the same as being held, but the warmth he could feel coming
from Aelius's naked body was a comfort.  As his consciousness faded, his
mind was filled with thoughts of Aelius, of Aelius's body, of his own naked
body nearly lost in the massive arms of Aelius.

chapter three

If Aelius noticed that the mats were somehow closer together and that there
were two bodies under his blanket instead of one when they awoke the next
morning, he did not draw attention to this fact.  Instead, they got up, ate
the last of the bread from Giovanni's father's shop along with some olives,
washing it down with some new watered wine.  Then it was off to meet Agda.

Giovanni did not know what he expected Agda to be, or look like exactly,
but the woman who greeted them was nothing extraordinary like he had
worried.  She was rather thin, and had a long face that was creased with
wrinkles.  It was not the face of a pretty woman, in fact, she was rather
homely.  However, when Aelius introduced them she greeted them with a warm
smile, and Gio found that any worries he may have had the preceding night,
were mostly laid to rest.  Still, there was an aura around her that Gio
thought bore some more investigation before he would count her as
completely harmless.  Aelius left Giovanni there, and said he would be back
to pick him up at dinnertime when he came to eat.

"Listen carefully and learn all Agda has to teach you," he admonished the
boy as he stepped out into the street.  Then he continued in a more
reassuring tone.  "Don't worry, you'll do fine.  I may have happened into
your shop by chance, but my choosing you was no accident.  I have faith in
your abilities."

The day passed quickly in a blur.  Agda was kind and a patient teacher, but
she also had a very "no nonsense" personality.  She generously praised
Giovanni when he made progress, but equally, scolded him when he made daft
mistakes about things with which he should have been familiar. It only
seemed that lunch had barely finished when Aelius was again at the door.

"How went your day, Gio?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to have to bathe in what came of his first attempt
at extracting the oil from mentha," Agda replied, "but I do think he could
make you a fine poultice from sage."  There was a twinkle in her eye that
let Giovanni know she did not think his day a failure.  "I think I would
wait a while, though, if I were you, before I trusted him to make me up a
dram of hemlock.  Today's attempt would put you in a sleep from which you
would never awaken, rather than make your night restful!"

Giovanni blushed due to the praise and the teasing that came in equal
parts.  "I am learning a lot, Master," he replied.  "And I'm learning it as
fast as I can."

Lee smiled an indulgent smile.  "There's no hurry, Gio.  We didn't build
Roma back up again, in one day after the great fire, and neither will you
become a great master of herbs in a short time.  Better to learn well, than
to rush anything.  What do you have for us for dinner, Agda?" he changed
topics.

"It is nearly ready, amicus," Agda replied.

Giovanni gave a start.  "What was a woman doing addressing his master as an
equal?  And as friend no less!"  Once again the thought ran through his
mind that this was no ordinary woman.  After one day spent with her, he no
longer feared her, but definitely, there was still more to her than just an
herb woman.  "Oh well," Gio gave a mental shrug.  "Nothing in the past two
days has followed what I know of the world, so I don't know why an herb
witch's place should make sense to me either."

Later, back at his new home, Giovanni was feeling a little unsteady.
Darkness had settled, and Aelius had not lighted a lamp.  He did not have
so much money that he could spend it unnecessarily, and this was one way
they could be more frugal.  Gio did not object, but the darkness, along
with the wine they had consumed as they sat there chatting after coming
home from Agda's house for dinner, left him a mite short on balance.  It
occurred to him to wonder if it was necessary to economize to this degree,
what parting with three pieces of gold - a significant amount of money by
any standards - must have cost Lee.

"It's getting late," Aelius stated.  "Why don't we prepare for bed, and I
can tell you more about how I came to be a gladiator."

Giovanni agreed.  He didn't know which he was looking forward to more,
finding out the rest of Lee's story, or lying next to him, naked, as they
drifted off to sleep.

"Shall I place the mats together again?  You seemed to have been cold last
night."

Gio felt a hot flush capture his face.  He was thankful for the fact that
they were in semi-darkness so Lee would not see his embarrassment.  "Uhhh,
yes, please.  That would be great," Giovanni mumbled.

Once settled, under the coverings, Aelius took Giovanni in the crook of his
arm, and held him in a protective way.  Gio was at a loss as to guess what
Aelius expected of him.  He had grown up his entire lifetime in Roma.  Even
though he was only fourteen, he was familiar with what a slave was expected
to do for his master or what a mentor expected his young eromenos to do for
him sexually.  However, Lee had not once made a gesture that was anything
more than fatherly.  Gio wondered if somehow, he had missed out on one
important part of the equation.  Was it his responsibility to initiate
these nocturnal pleasures for his master?  Or, maybe, since Lee was not
from Roma, did he even expect the same thing as a citizen from the city,
itself?  He was saved from any more questions when Aelius spoke.

"Now where was I?  Oh yes, Hadrienus was basking in the wealth of a
fruitful catch, and my father was dead.  I was convinced deep in my heart
that his death was no accident, but how could I prove it?  When he refused
to give me my father's share of the profits from his last catch, I was even
more certain that in Hadrienus's chest there beat the heart of an evil man.

"Less than a week later, I was walking near the square in the village one
day at dusk, when I heard two fishermen talking loudly.  They were
obviously drunk, and did not notice my presence.  One proceeded to tell the
other one how a terrible secret was gnawing at his innards.  The other man
snorted and said the only thing eating his stomach was too much sour wine.
The first man was insistent, however.  He said he was at sea the same
fateful night my father died.  His boat was several leagues away, but what
he witnessed happen on my father's boat did not appear to be any accident.
He could not be sure as it was too far away, but he thought that Hadrienus
was indeed responsible for my father's death.

"At that point, I lost my temper.  I ran straight to the house of
Hadrienus."  Aelius's voice trailed off.  When, after several moments, he
did not continue, Giovanni stirred in his arms.  This movement seemed to
wake Aelius from this reverie.  "I killed a man that night," he said
softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

After a few moments Aelius continued, "In my rage, I did not stop to get
the identity of the man who saw my father killed.  I also was not careful
that there were no witnesses when Hadrienus died.  Several soldiers from
the army came the next day, and took me into custody.  I turned our
household over to my younger brother; I knew I would not be coming home
again.  I might have gotten off lightly if I had killed a slave, but
killing a Roman citizen meant it would only be a matter of a few short days
before the people of the village would see me hanging on a cross."

His voice was low, almost a murmur, but in the quiet of the night, Giovanni
could hear every word.  In fact, his soto voce brought a certain intimacy
to the dark room.  Giovanni shifted positions again, snuggling closer to
Aelius.  He laid his head in the crook of Aelius's arm, and tentatively
placed his own arm over his master's chest.  Aelius did not seem to object.
Indeed, he shifted the arm partially under Giovanni up and began to stroke
the lad's hair.  Giovanni's heart skipped a beat.  He wondered if this
would lead to what he had been longing for.  Alas, Aelius's fingers ceased
their movement, even as his breath took on a regular rhythm that could only
mean that he had fallen asleep.

chapter four

Giovanni sighed.  He was dying to know what had happened to Lee, how he
gained his freedom after being apprehended, and how he managed to alter a
course with crucifixion as its destination.  It was not his choice to make,
however, and the deep rising and falling of Lee's chest meant that nothing
more would be forthcoming this night.

He had been so caught up in the story Lee was telling, that he had almost
forgotten his desire to be close to Lee.  Now however, with no story to
distract his brain, his body responded to the fact he was lying next to a
man, mysterious and gentle, but who was obviously also deadly.  His pisello
filled with blood until it was almost uncomfortable.  Gio reached down and
began to stroke it slowly with one hand, while his other traced circles
around Lee's nipples, which had become hard nubs under his ministrations.

A soft moan came from Lee.  Gio froze.  He was sure the pounding of his
heart alone, was enough to wake his master.  Lee's chest however, continued
to rise and fall rhythmically.  Gio recognized the moan.  It was the same
sort that his father and mother often made.  He guessed that Lee, although
asleep, was enjoying his touch.  Slowly, ever so lightly, he let his hand
drift down Lee's chest.  Gio could not believe what he found below Lee's
naval.  Lee's member was as hard as his own!  A wave of shivers went
through Giovanni's body as his hand gently rested on Lee's swollen pisello.
Every hair on his body was standing up, making him tingle with excitement.
His mouth was completely dry, from the combination of fear, excitement,
danger, and desire.

Slowly and again lightly, so as not to awaken his master, Giovanni cupped
his hand around Aelius's swollen, hard manhood and began an up-and-down
motion.  Even though he could go only on touch alone, it seemed to Gio that
Lee's pisello was much the same size as his own, except for Lee's head that
flared out, much larger.  Lee moaned again, brought his free arm up and
placed his hand over Gio's.  Again Gio froze.  He thought for certain this
time that he had awoken Lee.

He felt his member deflating.  How would he ever face his father again, if
Lee was angry with him; angry enough to take him back to his former, dreary
life.  Silently he cursed himself for his rash stupidity.  Lee gave no
other signs that he was awake, however.  His hand, gripped Gio's own and
started a firm stroking motion on his organ.  Gio let out a breath he did
not even realize he had been holding.  "He must be dreaming," Gio thought
with relief.

For a couple of minutes Gio continued to stroke Aelius's throbbing member,
guided by his master's hand.  Then, as is so often the case with human
nature, given one bit, people are not satisfied until they have two.
Stroking Lee's turgid manhood was more than Gio had ever imagined could
happen but he wanted more.  He wanted to see his master's swollen organ in
its completely-erect state.  Slowly he extricated his hand from that of
Aelius, and wriggled his way down under the covering.

Then he discovered a problem.  In a darkened room, it is even darker under
a cover.  "For the light of Mithras," Giovanni cursed at his thwarted
desires.  He was about to give up his quest, and settle for touch alone,
when he made yet another discovery.  His sense of smell worked just fine in
the darkness.  He inhaled deeply the musky scent that was Aelius.  Gio had
never smelled anything like this before.  It was an intoxicant as could
never have come from the god Bacchus.

He moved his nose a little closer and sniffed once again.  The thought ran
through his mind to wonder at the taste of Lee's private parts.  Startled,
he wondered where that idea had come from.  That was not something he had
ever witnessed his mother do to his father.  Where had that thought come
from?!  The idea had already taken root in his mind, however, and was
growing quickly ever stronger.  His own member, recently softened from
fright, was once more painfully erect.  Making sure Lee was still asleep,
he stuck out tongue, and placed the tip of it on Lee's hard manhood.

The shock Giovanni experienced was something akin to the result of rubbing
two pieces of wool together vigourously.  A tingle started at the tip of
his tongue and traveled down his body even reaching the tips of his
fingers.  It was the most exhilarating thing he had ever experienced.  His
own hard member jerked in response.  He knew he had to have more, and
slowly lowered his mouth over the tip of Aelius's hard prick, and
manipulated his tongue in between the generous folds of skin that covered
the head, and the crown, itself.  The taste was incredible.  It was hard to
put into words; not unpleasant, but like something over-ripe.  There was a
tanginess to it, too.  It took Giovanni but a second to decide he was a
dedicated convert to this unique flavour.  So compelling were his desires,
that he threw caution to the wind, and started to devour the treat in front
of him like a man starved.

The moaning from Aelius became more frequent, and louder.  He began to
gently thrust his hips, forcing his member further and further into
Giovanni's mouth.  Gio's own hands were busy too, one rapidly jerking his
own pisello, while the other was on an exploration of every area of his
master's body.  Aelius groaned particularly loud when Gio took his ballsack
in his hand and gently squeezed his master's balls.  How anyone could
remain asleep throughout all of this was a mystery to Gio, but at this
point he was beyond caring.

Leaving just the tip of Lee's head in his mouth, he took his free hand, and
rapidly started to masturbate his master's warm, silky-smooth member in
time with his own.  Giovanni knew his orgasm was approaching, and applied
more pressure to both pricks, as he swirled his tongue around the head of
Lee's which by now was bare, foreskin completely retracted.  With a moan of
his own, he began to shoot his warm seed.  The cream spurting forth seemed
as if it would never stop.  While not immense in volume, one, two, three
salvos of shooting cream wracked Gio's body.  Four.  Five.  Six.  The
spurting had lessened in intensity, but not in the pleasure it imparted.

Just as his climax was tapering, he felt another new sensation in his
mouth.  Aelius gave one final moan, thrust his hips forcefully upwards and
shot his own juices into Giovanni's mouth.  The thought ran through Gio's
mind that he ought not to spill it and make a mess, so he swallowed
rapidly.  It was unlike anything he'd ever before put in his mouth; warm,
thick, sweet, but a bit bitter, all at once.

Out of breath, Giovanni collapsed, his head resting on Lee's abdomen.  It
was then, much to his dismay, that he discovered exactly where he had shot
the product of his own stimulation: all over Lee's thigh.  However
improbable it was that Lee could sleep through such an incredible
experience, Gio was certain that his master could not be oblivious to dried
man-juices on this leg when he awakened.

After a momentary pause, Gio knew what he had to do.  Once more bending his
head over his master's crotch, he began to clean off his own seed from
Lee's thigh. He ran his tongue along Lee's leg, much like a cat pruning
itself.  The taste was a bit different from Lee's.  It was cooler now, of
course, owing to the fact that it had been several minutes since he had
spent his seed, but it was also a bit sweeter, in general less strong than
his master's.  Being careful to get every single drop, he crawled back from
under the covers, placed his head once again in the crook of Lee's neck and
shoulder, and fell fast asleep.  In that last moment between wakefulness
and oblivion, he remarked that his master's chest was still rising and
falling with the same rhythm it had been before this incredible experience
had started.