Amulet I Page 2

  ***

  The sun was beginning to peep over the horizon, splintering the faint pre-dawn light that had spread across the great city, but the air still felt cold. We weaved our way through an army of pupils and slaves who walked to school through the streets, interspersed between tradesmen and the last of the carts, which were leaving the city. There was a moratorium on carts in the streets of Rome between dawn and sunset, as that was the only way to avoid daytime gridlocks on the main thoroughfares.

  Even at this time of day, there were street vendors selling food and tradesmen were opening their shops. Groups of tradesmen gathered on corners discussing, gesticulating and laughing. There was almost an atmosphere of anticipation in the mornings, which did not exist by the afternoon, when the sunshine heated the stone cobbles and Rome slept.

  Our route took us past the Forum Romanum, the main and most central forum. By midday, it would be crowded with people. Politicians used it to give speeches from the rostra, recruiting voters to their causes while street vendors sold anything from food to clothes. Young people gathered to talk and meet friends. Senate decrees and public meetings took place there and anyone who was anyone wanted to be seen participating in the general bustle. The grave of Romulus was there too, marked by two large black marble stones. It was a strange place of history, politics and fun. The forum was Rome and Rome was the forum.

  The road forked just after the Forum Romanum. The right hand fork led to the Esquiline, which was a residential area resplendent with many oak trees from which the hill obtained its name. The southern slopes ended in a hill called the Oppius where some of the bigger houses and richer people resided. We headed towards the Oppius and we needed to fork left there, to head towards the Quirinal, where my Uncle Marcus had his home.

  This was my first day at school. It would have been an interesting day, had it not been for my anxiety. It produced a feeling of tightness in my stomach and a faint, constant wish to urinate. I was not used to such feelings and my mind harped back to home, where I felt so much more secure, warm, and happy.

  'It's a steep walk, Perseus; can we stop for a few seconds?' I said to our slave who accompanied me. He had been with our family for as long as I could remember. He was of medium height, with greying, sandy coloured hair and staring bulbous eyes that showed a sense of humour despite his lowly position in life. I always felt that slaves had little to laugh at, but I also knew that my father was a kinder master than most.

  'Yes, young master, even I am feeling it. We have to get most of the way up the Viminal before we turn off left to the house of your uncle.'

  'I wish I was at home.'

  'Your parents have arranged this and I for my part must also do my duty, young master. I am sure that a young man of the gens Veridius, to which you belong, will not give in to fear! Your great grand-father and grandfather were true Romans and they will watch out for you, or at least their shades will follow you and make sure you come to no harm.'

  'Perseus, if I insisted we go home what would you do?'

  'The master instructed me that if I had to, I should pick you up and carry you. I am sure that he was joking, and that sort of thing will not be necessary.'

  'Of course not. I was just asking.'

  We walked along a long straight road called the Vicus Longus. With faint breathlessness, we turned left to reach the Quirinal.

  I was eight years old and a late starter, because the only good inexpensive school was a long way from my parent's home and they had waited to enrol me until they had discussed it with Aunt Livia.

  'Perseus,' I said presently, 'I don't know my letters very well. What if they expect me to know all about writing?'

  'But I thought the master had taught you your letters?'

  'Well, he did a bit, but I find it hard to tell them apart. My reading isn't very good at all.'

  'Don't worry, young master,' Perseus said, 'I am sure that your teacher will know what to do, he is a Greek after all.'

  'I heard they beat their pupils,'

  'I am equally sure he will not beat you. Your father would never send you somewhere to be beaten. He is not that sort of man. Why, he is even kind to slaves like me!'

  'But…'

  'No more buts young master, we are nearly there. You must show them that you are of a proud and ancient family.'

  We walked up the wide path to the gate and Perseus knocked and stood aside for me to announce our presence. My bottom lip trembled a little and I wanted to run away. A janitor, chained to the doorpost as was customary, opened the door.

  'Well, you must be young Aulus then, we were expecting you. I am Cerberus. You must excuse the name, but the master thought it would be amusing to name me after the three-headed dog that guards the entrance to the Greek underworld! You are most welcome young sir,' he turned to Perseus, ' I will take care of him now. Make sure you are here to collect him this afternoon.' The man smiled and rang a bell.

  Cerberus was a scrawny man with greying hair and a squint. His grey linen tunic had a large stain at the front and a small tear in the neckline.

  'Where should I go?' I asked.

  The house was huge by my standards and I stared open mouthed at the long, paved, path that led up to the entrance.

  'Don't you worry young sir; a slave will respond to the bell and lead you to the peristylium where the lessons are to be held. Marcus the younger is already there. I'm sure you will both get along fine even though he is a little older than you.'

  'I hope so,' I mumbled. I stood then, waiting in silence. There was a tension in my little body; I did not know what was going to happen next. I still felt like running as far away from this huge house as possible.

  Within a few minutes, another slave walked down from the house and bade me follow him. We entered the house, which only served to fuel my apprehension for I found the inside even more daunting than the outside.

  The Atrium was huge. It made me feel small and alone. Tapestries depicting land and sea battles, adorned the walls and there were niches in the walls with statues and ornaments. The mosaics that decorated the floor were made of tiny squares of stone of a variety of colours and shapes that I had never seen before. I almost hesitated to step upon the floor in case I might damage them with my small sandaled feet.

  I followed the slave through a corridor to the peristylium. It was a large colonnaded garden with a central fountain and in one corner an altar for offerings to the house god. In the cloisters were groups of tables and couches where the occupants of the house would lounge or take food if the weather was suitable. Standing next to the fountain was a boy.

  He was a head taller than I was. He had a shock of black hair that seemed to have a life of its own hanging over his ears and dancing in the summer breeze. His face was attractive even at this age and he had an air of confidence or arrogance that impressed me, for I was very young then. I guessed that Marcus was two or three years older than I was, but I was bold enough to greet the bigger boy first.

  'Hello, I'm Aulus. We're cousins.'

  'Yes I know. You're from the poor side of the family.'

  I had nothing to say in return. I wanted to leave. He was not being the friendly cousin I had imagined. There was silence then, apart from the normal household noises of slaves padding around and furniture scraped on floors. I heard a bird screech above us.

  The problem was what to do with my hands. I folded my arms but it seemed inappropriate, so I clasped my hands behind my back. In the end, I let them hang by my sides and shifted my weight from one foot to another.

  Marcus stood there looking at me. It was a cruel stare and minutes passed as I looked around me. He spoke again, looking down at me.

  'My father clearly doesn't mind wasting his money on the likes of you! You should be grateful I put up with you being here. The tutor was only employed to teach me and if it wasn't for Mother you wouldn't be allowed anywhere near him.'

  'Oh,' I said, 'I'm sorry. I don't understand about such things. I ju
st came because I was told.'

  'Because you were told! What are you? Stupid? A slave?' Marcus was enjoying my discomfiture. I felt he made it plain that I had muscled my way into his private tuition and was not wanted.

  'You'd better behave or you'll be sorry. Greeks aren't tolerant people and this one will tan your hide if you give him any lip.'

  'I won't give him any lip. It's my first day at school. Can't we be friends?' I felt like crying again but was determined not to show it to this big boy.

  'Friends? What a joke. I have friends. Friends my own age and they are the same social class. Why would I want to mix with someone like you? You aren't even a patrician.'

  'Yes I am! I'm a Veridius Scapula. My father said so!'

  'Your father's a fool, that isn't even a patrician name anyway.'

  My anxiety escalated. This was not what I had expected. Why was he so nasty? I thought maybe it was because his father and mine were angry with each other. I longed for the day to end, yet it had only started.

  I was about to argue, but Marcus, deciding that the conversation was at an end, walked around to the other side of the fountain and sat down on the edge. I did the same on my side of the fountain. I stared at the mosaic beneath my feet, trying to come to terms with this discouraging start. I remember a tightening in my throat and that my eyes felt a little moist. I missed my mother.

  It was in this pose that Livia, Marcus' mother found me.

  'Aulus! My little one!' she said in a high pitched but cultured voice, 'where is my hug?'

  She held her arms open, bending at the knees. I for my part, although pleased with the display of friendliness, walked with uncertain steps towards her feeling somewhat daunted at first. The passage of time had clouded my recollection of her, for I had not seen her since I was a very small child. She leaned forward and her embrace enveloped me, eclipsing the world for a moment beneath the folds of her beautiful gown. I remember the smell of her hair, which had a pleasant scent of flowers. Her breath smelt of cloves. I think it was the first time I had smiled that morning.

  'It's simply lovely to see you again! Why, it's been such a long time, I bet you hardly remember me!'

  'I am most pleased to greet you aunt Livia,' I said, for I was a well-mannered child despite my age. Aunt Livia smiled back at me, a smile that swept formality aside in an instant. She was a cultured and attractive woman, her appearance enhanced by her elegant hairstyle and expensive red linen gown. As first impressions go, to an eight year old, it was overwhelming.

  'Aulus, you don't need to be so formal. Even though I haven't seen you since you were small, I want you to feel at home here. We will talk later, but now I need to introduce you to your teacher, Gennadius. Where is Marcus? Oh there you are! Come over here. Have you met Aulus? You must be nice to Aulus he is your cousin after all.'

  'Yes mother,' the sullen boy said, his face betraying him.

  'Oh Marcus, you mustn't be in one of those moods of yours. Come with me you two and we'll meet your teacher. His name is Gennadius.'

  I recall that she held my hand as we walked inside and her fingers were long, hard and cool. The feeling of tension had not resolved, my heart was beating fast, but I felt somehow that I might have found someone kind at last.