I will take responsibility for him. He was my brother. You have not asked for me, that I know. I understand that it is likely you know me not well enough to ask. But it is possible to ask too much of our masters, and in such an event, they are weak to ask favors of those who have served them in the past. I will serve. I am responsible for this story.

But in order to go forward, we must go back. It does not concern me that you may not care to do so, or that you may feel you know the story. I will not abide by the version of the story you have heard. I am not one to ride upon the backs of others. If you will hear me, you will hear the story as I know it. What you will have, is the beginning because without it how may we know the end? I write it from my place at home, and the story begins at home as well.

I would like to think, because he is dead, that Laurent had an idyllic childhood. Some would like to think that. Certainly, Leechtin would like to think that. The little master, Nataniellus, would like to think that. But there were no fauns or fawning in the time that Escha came to us, and it was a time where children were beaten in order to resemble the shape of men. In our homeplace it was no different, and Escha could be so effeminate, and though we younger boys secretly praised him as the very spirit of love and beauty, we were encouraged to pinch him like scorpions if his lower-lip trembled. But that is drawing a little ahead.

That day he came, I had no idea to expect anything. I had been told to pull weeds in the shady kitchen garden, and pull greens for lunch if there were any looking nice to eat. I had been pulling for some time, the sun travelling across my back, when I heard shouting up the road, and the sound of our mule complaining about the cart.

Perhaps it is not entirely true that I didn't expect anything. I only hadn't expected new slaves that day. There had been a little talk that the master had been seeking younger boys, for what purpose we didn't rightly know, only that they be beautiful, polite, and brave. We knew that they weren't going to be trained in the house because there had been no stipulation passed down that this boy be in any way intelligent, just potentially well-mannered, unafraid, and pleasant to look at. So we didn't feel threatened by the idea of the new boy. He couldn't usurp us, whatever purpose he had. We were the well-chosen few, and we would go on to as well as a slave could hope for. We were perfumed and well-fed, raised up as if by the hand of a god, and since the new one could not lower us, he was of no interest. 

So that is why when I heard the mule and the cart, I did not even turn around. It was my job and my duty to do as told, and I expected nothing if I did not finish in time. At that age I often told myself I chose to do the work, out of no more and no less than arrogance, and so I took pride in pulling weeds. I had not yet learned that pride is not necessary for such things, and yet it fueled me well.Nearly as well as that I secretly wished that I would be allowed to stay in this place that I considered my home. I thought, so deeply, so secretly, that if I worked hard enough, and fought my disobedient nature, I might be allowed to stay and serve in the place where I grown up. So I did not see anything before lunch except weeds and salad greens. I took my bleeding fingers and aching hips inside to lunch, and found myself rebuffed. "Wash yourself and go behind the stable for your lunch today," my teacher, Vasvius, told me. "There is business going on in the house and not to be disturbed."

"What sort of business?" I asked him.

"Those who stick their nose in will have it cut off," he said. "Will you go or will you have a clout and then go?"

"Clout," I said.

"Don't be so obnoxious. Get out of here, worm," he said, but he smiled. Vasvius, for some reason, always liked me.

I was either thirteen or fourteen, near enough fourteen perhaps, and so a streak of pernicious curiosity sometimes coursed through me. I found myself well curious, with Vasvius guarding the door. He was our senior, the highest position in the house besides the master himself, and if it were he in charge of the transaction, it must be special indeed. To not even see the boys? What could they possibly be for? I was under no sweet illusions. My first thought was that the master sought a bedslave, and I'm certain that most would have thought so. Sexuality, even at that age, did not come into my life much. Considering my position, it was often reiterated to me that my body was not my own, and that I should be cognizant of damaging my value. But I was curious all the same, more than curious, sometimes slavishly curious, and lascivious thoughts found ground in me. I could not think of any other reason, now that the thought had occurred, for this to be happening. Doesn't Venus cover her body with veils, and guard her dignity? And so Vasvius covered the door. Not to even see them. For me, the idea of their youth did not appear as flesh in this thought process. The thought of the master's at bed would not abandon me as I washed up by the well. I so rarely even saw the master. Thoughts toward his private life were too too intriguing.

It was a fairly long walk to the orchard beyond the stable, where I had been told to expect my lunch, but the intrigue put wind behind my heels. The other three boys would be there, not to even mention Vivacio the younger teacher, and any one of them could be counted upon for inside information. In fact, Vivacio often shared details with us we shouldn't have known purely out of some sort of disappointed bitterness. Privately we ridiculed him for being so emotional, for wanting so much more out of the master than he should, but we feted him his sliminess when the gossip was good.

"Here comes him," I heard our littlest say, Nonus. He could not ever hide his feelings, and was often in a state of unreasonable excitement over barely anything. We treasured him his sunny disposition. He was eight years old, and had not yet grown out of his kittenhood. Lo and behold, as I came up upon them, Nonus' face cracked into a smile as if he had found a golden egg to sell, and he half-rose to greet me.

"Don't get up from your meat," I said. "What's gone on this morning at the house?"

"Curious wretch, it's not for us to know," said Aulus, slightly bug-eyed at that age, who at that time we called Donkey because he knew no name. Donkey had never suited him beyond a streak of stubborn propriety. He lived for rules, because the wise flourish under them. Even as he ate, his arm hooked with his favorite brother, and they looked a Gemini, though Aulus was nearly an entire year older. 

"Where's Vivacio? Let go of Nonus and eat."

"Vivacio is off beating Cassius a little ways away. You would hear it, but Cassius is not making a sound. He's so full of pride that it's leaking out today, and he has been mouthing off to Vivacio all day long" Aulus said.

"Shut up, Donkey," I said, sitting down. "We're not all as happy about servitude as you. What's he beating him with?"

"Just his hands, I think. The master told him he can't use the rod anymore."

"That's bad for us. He'll do twice the strokes to make up for it. Be kind to your brother when he returns."

"I don't need to be told," Aulus said.

I sat down and he pushed the large clay plate toward me. "Horse and dried plums. I was hoping for those greens I picked."

"There were olives today, but Vivacio is keeping them for himself."

"Is that what Cassius mouthed off about?" I asked, tearing myself rye bread.

"Yes that was the last straw. Vivacio says that there is no way of knowing who the olives were meant for, and so he'll keep them for himself and Vasvius, but Vasvius isn't coming out here today. Vivacio said such a special treat is too good for us, because there is so little to do today."

I passed Nonus a plum and he winked at me. "Won't you let go of Nonus, Donkey? You've got his dominant arm."

"He can get away if he wants," the Donkey said, tucking a bit of dry horse meat into his bread.

"Did Vivacio keep our porridge, too?" I asked.

"No. No porridge today."

"Then I'm going to say those olives were meant for us."

"Not politic to say so. He'll thrash you, too, even though you're too old for it. Master's too busy to do it himself today."

"You're probably right. Anyway, I'm not sore about olives. What's all this at the house? You have any idea?" I asked.

Aulus scratched a little cut behind his ear. The previous week, the master'd had the Donkey's head shaved before he could pass us the lice he'd picked up somewhere. "Vivacio isn't letting slip anything. We don't know."

"I want to shave my head, too," Nonus said, quietly, a refrain ever since Aulus's hair had been clipped.

"Stop repeating things," the Donkey said. "They'll think you're mad. Eat."

"I want it, too," Nonus repeated, more quietly, eating his plum and resting his head on Aulus's sun-warmed shoulder. His feline eyes narrowed pleasantly.

"He knows how to relax. Are you happy, little cat?" I asked him. "Doesn't it smell like the sea here today?"

"All I know is the cart went away already. A little while ago," Aulus said.

"Did you see the children?" I reached for Nonus's foot and he kicked at me gently.

"I saw them. They looked like dolls. None of them older than six years. It wasn't from our gaoler Vasvius scraped them, that's for sure. I wonder where he got them, but I also don't want to know."

"How'd you get so wise, Donkey? You're only nine yourself."

"I have Donkey wisdom," he said. "It doesn't make sense to you. You are a different sort of animal."

"Things are still tied up at the house though. Vasvius wouldn't let me in. He wouldn't even let me wash behind the kitchen. He had me do it at the well."

"Must be there was one left behind by the cart. One in, for whatever his purpose is."

"No girl children?" I asked.

"None. There were eight of them and all of them dovish boys."

"Dovish? You think them bedslave boys? Venus?"

"That or some other similar. But I don't know. They were all very clean and very quiet. I suppose they could have come from our gaol, from the camp, but if so they've been kept for some purpose I'm not aware of."

"The Donkey doesn't know all. I'm astounded." I reached for Nonus foot again and he looked at me through happy, slitted eyes. "Eat more, Kitten."

At that I heard footsteps coming through the orchard undergrowth, and Aulus let go of Nonus quickly, tearing them each a cut of rye. He was wise to be so prudent, as Vasvius had loudly rejoined them both their devotion several times. It would be rare indeed for two stewards to meet in the same house, and so inevitably they would be parted. If they were to remain in the same city and their brotherly love became known, there would be suspicion of intrigue, of house secrets passed to rival factions. I had to agree it was better they not fill each other's ears with prayer to stay close, but I could see that Nonus needed a friend. He gave the impression of a kitten taken from its milk too early, always seeking a kind touch and a soft word. I hoped that he would just grow out of it.

Cassius came ahead of Vivacio, cowed and sorry. His hair had already gone sunstreaked in the spring thaw, and his broad shoulders betrayed a future strong build. He came to the clay plate with his head bowed and his lips shut, normally sparkling eyes very dulled and salt-touched from tears. He was the closest in age to me, at thirteen, and he sat down near enough for his thigh to touch mine. Vivacio lingered afield, whipping the edge of our long grazing grass with a slim branch. 

"Don't misjudge me but you look like you've been crying," I said softly.

He made a sound like water dripping into water and ignored me.

"Cassius," I said.

"If you could just ignore me like usual, that'd be great," he snapped. "Or do you want to hold each other like the little ones?"

I think Cassius always felt that he was alone. I don't know why. We were friends with a deep connection, but never particularly close. But it was also that when you injure a lion, it will bite through tears, and so I backed off before anything regrettable might be said. And there lingered silence awhile.

But then it was very unusual because we all realized that lunch had been going on a long time, and no one had come to collect us, or given us any directions. Vivacio had moved off while we weren't looking. Of course we could take our own initiative, since we all knew what needed doing, but generally in the afternoon someone would collect us for study, and as we sat there it kept not happening. Nobody showed up. 

"Cassius, should we go back? It's getting cold," Aulus said, deferentially.

"Well I don't want to go back," Cassius said, continuing to eat what little had been left him. He always ate very slowly, like a shy, darting fish.

"Iovita?" Aulus asked me instead, cautious because I had been the more rebellious of his elders in the past. Not today though. 

"Things are queer. We might not want to upset the balance. If things go wrong now, they may see it as inauspicious, and nothing good may follow. Let's trail Apollo back west and go home. He knows the right path."

I regarded my brothers a moment, Cassius, skin golden already this year from working outdoors. He did not bother to move, though it subverted my authority as his elder. Aulus and Nonus had already begun to rise, Aulus helping Nonus to his feet who had grown sleepy in the sunlight and from listening to the buzzing of bees.

"We'll see the new boy at the house," I said, just to say something, that perhaps with an additional word Cassius would be moved.

He did not speak but I heard his protest, that he was tired of being whipped, and wanted only time to do nothing, and eat, and be himself a moment without anyone's gaze mattering but his own. He had told it to me before, when he was younger. Does this feeling ever go away even if one's sense of duty prevails? I feel it sometimes even now, very strongly. 

"I've seen the new boy already," Cassius said, so quietly that it startled Aulus into sitting back down and Nonus too.

Aulus was immediately rapt, but I felt impatient. "But tell us about him," Aulus demanded. "Is that why you're so angry today? Is he too beautiful? Are the gods cruel to make him such a way? Do they take away from him already what is his destiny to live beautifully? Do tell us of it."

"You listen to too many stories," Cassius said, a little more comfortably, now that a little time had been bought.

Nonus sneezed and rubbed his eyes. "Is he like us or like you?" he asked.

"I think that he is foreign like me."

"Like you? Or another kind," Nonus asked.

"Maybe another kind. I don't know."

"Barbarians are barbarians," Aulus said, with the ease of a child's judgment. He forgot that he might be swatted for arrogance, and so when I swatted his ear he cried out, "Why?"

"You think on it, and remember it, and someday when you are older, you tell me," I said. That his brother Cassius was of a conquered people, and this new little one the same, and that it dishonored their dead to call a death the same as any other death. 

Cassius lay himself back in the grass and sighed out a breath. In the silence there were the goats heckling each other in the distance, and the wind blowing in from the sea to molest the whispering leaves. With a great sigh, Cassius wrenched himself up, and he offered me his hand to hold as we walked back to the house. I took it without a word. It did not mean anything but love in those days, that what brothers have and brothers in arms. He held my hand tightly, it wet with the cold sweat of pain, and I didn't wonder how Vivacio had beaten him, because he always beat us the same way. I would see later that Cassius's back, the kidneys, were black and blue with bruising, and we would massage his skin to heal it until he fell asleep from crying. 

We didn't know that Vivacio had become tied up at the house, directed to wash the new child and comb its hair, the first of many instances he would wrongly consider indignities. And the day remained queer and everything a little out of place, very quiet until bedtime, and our being told that the new one would sleep with us. It so surprised me that he was not apparently a bedslave that I completely forgot to shake out our blanket, and that is how I missed the scorpion that would cause so much trouble.