The Paradox

The hours passed on in silence.

It was not until the meagre oil in his little lamp burned out that Alecto even moved from the pallet. The sudden darkness stilled him from his stupor. He had been turning over the days events and could not think of any reason why Aulus had not returned. An ill chill crept down his back when he realised that he was not going to return for the night.

Where could he be? Alecto struggled to think. He had not seen him since the night before. Alecto and Aulus did not eat together; Proximo did not let his whores eat with his labourers. So when Alecto went to his chores in the morning, Aulus had already gone. And now, after he had waited for hours, Aulus had still not returned to the slave quarters.

This never happened. If Proximo called for Alecto, he would be kept out late and sometimes not see the quarters all night, but Aulus was a working man. He was too tired to stay up late, even to talk with Tertius or the women. In fact, he was not permitted; he was required to work all day and rest at the times he was given. Through his confusion, Alecto could feel the distinct sensation of fear; he knew that something was wrong.

So then, what to do? He decided he must go and seek him out. He was most likely, he thought to console himself, only with Tertius again. Despite the rules, they would occasionally talk after meals. Perhaps he had lost track of time. Alecto shivered as he stepped out into the courtyard outside. He looked up and saw that the moon was beginning to crawl back towards the horizon; midnight had passed. Quickly the boy headed towards Tertius’ rooms.

He found that Tertius was not alone. He rarely was. The rules were different for the women. The whores often muttered that Tertius made them so. Not being required to perform heavy labour, they were permitted to stay up later, and often Tertius would invite them to his office to talk.

He had a great friendship with Florentina, the old crone-like slave who told fortunes, and he had deep affection for little Farva. They were all crowded about a fire, listening to one of Florentina’s tales from afar, while Farva sat on Tertius knee and giggled with child-like glee with every twist of the tale. It was quite the happy picture; Malakeh and another slave-girl were sewing and mending beside them. But all storytelling stopped when Alecto entered the room.

“Tertius,” Alecto said, clearing his throat. He was heavily conscious that all eyes were upon him and the tension in the room had rapidly heightened. “Where is Aulus? Why has he not come back to the quarters.”

“I sold him,” he replied, simply.

Even before comprehension had dawned upon him, numbness seemed to spread through his body, before tension took his chest like a blow. He couldn’t breath. He could barely speak. “What?” he asked, breathlessly. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

“I said I sold him, you insolent whore. I traded him at market today for a slave of equal value. Who, incidentally, Alecto, will be bedding with the guards, and not with you. There will be no chance for you to seduce him, you little slut.”

For a moment, there was utter silence. All eyes were bent on Alecto, who; rather than submitting and running, or even collapsing into tears, had not even lowered his eyes. Across the room, man and boy held each other’s gaze with fury. All in the room, cowed by their own slave-senses, watched with bated breath in disbelief. Full minutes passed and still the little pleasure slave did not back down. A storm would break any second.

There was no physical signal of what it was that broke the still, without warning Alecto had dived for Tertius. Alecto was not given to be strong, but had not Florentina caught him up before he reached the clerk, none could guess what would have happened. Instead, the wrinkled old crone grappled with the youth, while from her grip he screamed at Tertius, straining his neck, spitting, yelling. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll scratch your eyes out! I’ll kill you!”

Tertius had gone within moments. He didn’t say anything, he just walked out. He could easily punish the boy later, and, cruelly, decided that now it would be far better to leave him to his grief. Let this separation teach the brat never to love again, he thought.

Alecto could not maintain the shouts, but collapsed into sobs. Soon he found himself crying into Malakeh’s breast on the floor, while Florentina hovered above them both. Quietly in the corner, Farva was crying quietly, until another of the women took her hand and lead her away.

Florentina took it upon herself to take control of the situation. “Alecto, you are an idiot child!”

He did not respond, only sobbed harder and clutched Malakeh’s dress. Above him, he heard Malakeh say softly “Perhaps ought you explain to him…just so he understand.”

There was a pause, when all that could be heard was Alecto’s crying. Then there was a sound of scraping as Florentina dragged a stool across the room. The took a deep breath, then leaned down to touch Alecto’s hair. “There, now. Don’t cry so. I’ll tell you what’s come to pass.”

Alecto could not at first process this information. He had not thought so far as there being reasons; circumstances; only that Aulus had gone, forever. Gasping for air, he looked up at Florentina’s wrinkled old face, and thought he saw the creases of concern. Not trusting himself to speak, he only complied by not crying so hard, confining himself to the occasionally whimper.

As Florentina spun the tale, Malakeh gently stroked his hair. The boy could have imagined that she were Aulus, if his cheek was not pressed against her softly rising bosom. “When the Master raped you the other night,” Florentina began, talking slowly enough to let the boy take in all her words, but quickly enough so as not to draw out the painful recounting, “Tertius returned here in a terrible anger. Aulus quickly followed, believing you were asleep.”

“I was asleep…” Alecto said. The events of that night, only a week ago, were unfolding in his head.

“Even so. He came to ask Tertius if the Master had hurt you badly…they had a long argument. About you. Now, now, don’t whimper, this wasn’t your fault. Nothing doing, boy, nothing for you to stop him. Now, they argued. And then Tertius told Aulus something that we all suspected for a long time.”

At that, Alecto raised his head. In the pit of his stomach, he already knew. But he asked anyway, dreading the answer. “What?”

“Tertius was in love with Aulus.”

Hearing it aloud, Alecto could not help but cry. He wailed as if his heart had shattered within him, and this time, Florentina did not reprimand him. She only said, “Aulus told Tertius he loved you. And now he has been sold. Now you see.” He saw. He understood everything. With painful clarity. Now he knew why the night before Aulus had held him close all night and finally told him that he loved him. Oh, Gods….Aulus. The tears were coming in waves, crashing between uncontrollable sobs and quiet weeping that shook his whole body.

Meanwhile, Malakeh didn’t move. Instead, she held him close. There was a brief moment where Alecto was conscious of the two women communicating in whispers above his head, but he was mostly aware of nothing besides his own grief. It could have been minutes, or hours, Alecto didn’t know and didn’t care, before Florentina bent down to begin to hoist the boy to his feet. Still clinging on tightly to Malakeh, like a baby monkey gripping it’s mother, Alecto obeyed the impulsion of the hands upon him…as always, as always…and allowed himself to be lead back to the men’s quarters.

Malakeh put him to bed and left soon after. It was a terrible offence for a woman to be found in the men’s quarters, punishable like most other transgressions, by flogging. She kissed his forehead and left. But Florentina, who for her magic seemed to hold some power over Tertius and some superiority to the rules, stayed longer. She watched Alecto in his bed, knowing that the youth would not sleep tonight, and that although he had closed his eyes, he was still aware of her presence.

She reached out to the lamp by the bed. The oil had sputtered out long since, the chamber was lit only by moonlight. She pulled the wick out of the little tray and spat in the clay dish that holds the oil. Slowly, murmuring a prayer, she began to scratch at the spittle with her little finger.

The sound of the spit and then the prayer was enough to arouse Alecto from his sleep. He rose up on his elbow and stared at the old woman as she knelt besides his bed. Rubbing his eyes, he looked down at the old oil lamp and the shapes that he could dimly see emerging. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Florentina was reading his fortune in that lamp. She had the power to see what was held in store for him, and at that moment, memory and realisation hit him like a boot in the stomach. Tertius wroth would be terrible. How could he go back to Proximo now? He would never see Aulus again.

Florentina put down the lamp. She touched Alecto on the forehead. “May the Gods protect you, child,” she said.