De Immortalitate – Immortality

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended at any point.

Hey there! Many of you expressed their desire to know more about Alica. I'm glad that, like Antonius, you are also fond of this character, who has an important role in the plot.

Chapter 4 - Humans

"Est autem virtus nihil aliud quam in se perfecta et ad summo perducta natura; est igitur homini cum deo similitudo."

"Virtue is nothing but nature perfected and developed to its highest point, and there is therefore a resemblance between humans and gods."

(Cicero, De Legibus, 1, 25)

Bella's POV

"Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto," I repeated the sentence I had just read. The weight of the scroll in my hands was heavy, and even the smell of the lilies around us couldn't disguise its musty smell. The sun stretched across the garden, as we sat on the carved stone benches.

"What does it mean for you?" the master asked.

I didn't understand his question. "He's saying that, being a man, he thinks that nothing human is alien to him," I tried to explain.

"I know what it says." He snorted, setting the red highlights in his hair dancing. The cloak he wore on his tunic slipped further down, revealing his muscular arm. "I must admit that you're better than me with Greek, but I've always spoken Latin, you know?" He chuckled. "What's your opinion about this idea, Bella?"

I frowned. Day after day, spending time with the master in his library had become a habit, but he had always asked me just to read and translate. He had never seemed interested in knowing my opinion about the works we had read, so I hesitated to answer.

"Do you know who wrote this play?" His voice sounded urgent, as if he was spurning me on to discover some hiding meaning.

I shook my head. I had read Greek tragedies and comedies, but I hadn't studied many Latin authors. My Greek preceptor was very proud of his cultural heritage and considered Latin plays as nothing more than derivative literature, based on Greek ones. I knew better than to tell these ideas to the Roman in front of me!

But the memory of my studies didn't make me smile; it was just another piece of my past that was lost forever.

My master sat up straight on his bench. He had been so relaxed when I was reading aloud, until a few moments ago, but something must have agitated him. I was scanning the lines I had just read, trying to understand what had caused a change in his attitude. He leaned forward and stared into my eyes, as if he was about to reveal something of great importance. He put his hand on the scroll I was reading, claiming my attention.

"His name was Terentius," he began to explain. "He was a slave, but nowadays we remember him because he was a great writer, not because of his master. You've seen the works in my library. Many of them were written by authors who were slaves, while others were written by free and powerful men. Yet, when you read their works can you distinguish readily which author was a free man and which one a slave? In terms of intellectual capacity, do you think it matters?"

More than once I had heard free men uttering the word "slave" with contempt. My master didn't do so. I cringed every time I heard the word. It seemed as if he could sense my reaction to it. His voice was powerful, but kind. I listened to him, caught by every word.

"Terentius was a slave," he continued, "and the characters who are speaking in this scene are free men. But when the author says that, for a man, nothing human is alien to him, he says just 'man' – he doesn't say 'free man' or 'slave.' – What do you think about it, Bella?"

He stared at me, his eyes boring into mine, as if he was trying to decipher me. His eyes made me remember some days when the sea had a deep green color. Looking at him was like being in front of the open sea; I felt overwhelmed and fascinated at the same time. Were my thoughts so important to him?

He was the master of everything around us. The luscious garden where we were, the scroll I was holding, even the clothes I wore or the food I ate...everything belonged to him. How could my ideas offer him something he didn't already have?

"Bella..."

"I... I don't know."

I had seen that many servants didn't get more than a moment of my master's attention. Every morning his clientes had to wait before being received by him for a short while. Instead, when we were together it seemed as if talking with me was the most important thing he had to do. I was even more confused and remained silent.

"Why don't you talk to me?"

I averted my eyes. When we were reading literary and philosophical works, I felt free again; for a short while I could forget that I was a slave. In those moments we were just two people, two humans, who could share ideas. Is that what he is saying to me?

I wasn't brave enough to actually tell him aloud these thoughts.

"I don't want you to fear me," he told me. The expression on his face had softened and his eyes shone with tenderness and understanding as he looked at me. "I know there are many things that you don't understand. I know that you haven't always been a slave, and you wish you weren't here, but believe me when I tell you that I don't wish it either."

I inhaled sharply, worried by his words. The man who had brought me here had said that if I wasn't going to behave myself, I would be sold to one of the town's whorehouses. Or worse, the master could have me beaten or even killed, at his whim. Was the master going to get rid of me?

"Are you going to sell me, Master?" My question came out in no more than a whisper.

"What?" He seemed truly surprised."Bella, that's not what I mean! It's just that..."

He hesitated. "I don't want to be here anymore than you," he added, after a while. "If I could, Bella, I'd free you immediately. Don't you think I can understand you? After all, you've read what the author says, and at the core, as human beings, we are the same, are we not?"

I couldn't grasp the meaning of his words.

Isn't he my master? And, if so, why did he say that he'd free me, if he could? Couldn't he do it if he wanted?

"I would never hurt you," he added.

I felt tears at the corner of my eyes. He seemed so different than his father. Was he sincere? He was gentle, but how could I trust the son of the man who had destroyed my family and hurt me so deeply?

I bowed my head, blinking back tears. I gave a sidelong glance at the house.

"Maybe Esma needs some help with the chores," the master observed in a flat voice.

It was as if he had read my mind. Without looking at him, I nodded, grateful that he was giving me a way to go back to my only friend in the villa.

"Go help her," he told me quietly.

I clutched the scroll to my chest. Were we ever going to read the rest of it?

After the master dismissed me, I went back to my usual chores. My thoughts wandered. I had been a joyful girl who enjoyed reading and the arts; I was curious about everything I had the opportunity to discover. That was until the day Felix and his men killed my family. My world had been destroyed and all joy was taken from me. I had been taken away from my city directly to this villa among unknown people.

I continued to wash the clothes, as Esma had told me to do, paying attention to remove even the smallest stains. While we were still traveling, one of Felix's men had told me that I was supposed to immediately do anything that the master was going to require from me and the slightest hesitation would mean a harsh punishment.

Since I had arrived in the house, I had never been punished. So far.

Even when the day was over, I couldn't stop thinking about the master's words. In my tiny bed, I curled in a little, tight ball, as if I could try to disappear or hide from the evils that surrounded me. During the day, I didn't know even if I was allowed to cry, so I had learned to choke back my tears. Only at night I finally indulged myself the relief of a long, silent cry.

I began to say my evening prayers.

"God, you can see my pain," I whispered. I repeated to myself that not a single tear was unknown to Him.

One by one, the names of my father, my mother, and my friends elicited memories of voices, embraces and laughs. I recalled every detail. It was my way of remembering that all the happy memories I kept were real, that the girl I once was, the free Bella, had not been completely lost.

A black-eyed boy drifted into my memories. He was the son of my father's best friend, and I had seen him a couple of times when his family had come to pay a visit. Every time our eyes had met, he had given me a bright smile. My father had joked with him, and his laugh had been so joyful that it made me smile too. Back then, I dreamed of becoming a mother one day. I recalled that I had even imagined a dark-haired boy and a cheerful little girl.

I tried to recall the voice of my own mother.

"Sweet dreams, Cygnula." My mother used to say to me when she put me to bed.

"Why do you call me that?" I had asked once when I was still a child.

"It means 'little swan', honey."

"Matercula? What is a swan?"

"It's a big, beautiful bird. When it's still young, it's cute and clumsy, but then it becomes an elegant and noble animal. You're my little swan, and you'll become a fine woman, my dear."

My mother, or at least the memory of my mother, once again lulled me into some hours of sleep, like when I was a little child.

Antonius' POV

Once Bella went back to the house, I paced up and down in the atrium. The literary work I had chosen was meant to be a way to get to know her better – avoiding, at the same time, overt directness. I had tried to reassure her to no avail. She had kept her eyes fixed to the ground even when I had dismissed her and didn't catch that I was smiling at her. It seemed like the only effect I had on Bella was to upset her even more. It bothered me very much.

What could I say to her? That I knew firsthand how it felt to lose my freedom? I was aware of the way slaves were regarded as property. But she was more to me than that. Could I assure her that servants were well treated in my house? It was true so long as I was the only master here. But now I couldn't promise her something I couldn't deliver anymore.

When I couldn't sleep the following night, I came back to the garden.

Sextius had just finished doing the rounds. Although there was no need for a regular patrolling of the villa, he used to check for thieves. I didn't share his concerns: if a thief had been caught in the act, especially after the household had retired at nighttime, he could have been executed; nobody had ever tried to sneak in and risk such a terrible punishment.

I returned to the same spot where I had spent the morning with Bella. How had she ended up in my house? She had admitted that she hadn't always been a slave. She was beautiful and intelligent; where had Felix found her? And what had he done to take her away from her home?

Being awake, at night, reminded me of the time I had spent as a soldier for my military training. The night shifts were often the periods when the most humble foot soldier and the most important general had in common the longing for the people they had left behind at home.

I recalled another time, more than three years ago, when I had been outside looking at the stars.

We had reached the Danube provinces, and we had seen the forts built in the last years at Aquincum, Bononia, and Intercisa. The Emperor Diocletian considered the campaigns against the Sarmatians as his priority. I had studied the strategies of his previous victories, but when I had arrived there with the army, I had understood how the area was difficult to defend, and new campaigns were necessary. More than ten legions had been sent to patrol the region. We were working to build forts, bridgeheads, and walled towns; the cost of the defense was heavy. Were we going to win again and secure the entire length of the Danube?

"What are you thinking, Antonius?" Emeritus' voice, booming even when he tried to keep it low, interrupted my thoughts.

"War strategies and battles...as usual. And you?"

"I'm probably a father now." He sighed.

"Why do you say 'probably'?" This was odd.

"When we left, my wife was pregnant. I guess she has had our baby by this time."

"Are you hoping to get a little hero? I bet you'll give your son his first shield before he turns three years old!"

"May I tell you a secret?" Emeritus smirked. "I'd prefer a daughter. A little girl who will make me feel like her hero. If she will be as beautiful as her mother, she will be a goddess one day."

I smiled. At least ten times every day I heard him talk about how attractive and lovely his wife was. But I hadn't know that one of the strongest officers I had ever met could have such a tender spot for a little daughter.

"And you, Antonius? Don't you have a woman who is waiting for you at home?"

"Of course! I have at least two women: my mother and my wet-nurse!" I laughed.

He laughed too, but then he seemed curious.

"You know, I thought that you..." he mumbled.

"What?"

"I saw that you never join the soldiers when they go to the brothels. But if you don't have a wife..."

I couldn't help but smile, seeing that he was so embarrassed talking about my private life.

"I carefully choose my prey," I told him with a dark voice.

I recalled the faces of the women I had 'chosen' or who had chosen me. In some cases, I had forgotten even their names. I didn't miss any of them, in this lonely night so far from home.

I left my friend to think about his wife and the daughter of his dreams, and I returned to my patrol.

Will I ever have any daughter or son? I wondered. Will I ever fall in love?

I daydreamed about the woman who could make me happy as Emeritus was. What was she doing right now? Was she still a little girl, sleeping in this serene night? Maybe she was looking at these same stars.

I had considered that I could be more daring than other soldiers, because I didn't have anything to lose fighting in a war. But on nights like this, the thought that I hadn't anyone to come back made me feel only weaker and sadder than my comrades in arms.

The nightly silence and the garden's dampness wrapped around me like an uneasy blanket. When I had returned home two years ago from my service with the army, I would have never imagined that because of Felix, I wasn't going to go back to my army anymore. I couldn't reconcile the two figures in my head: my father, who, when I was a child, had entertained me with fascinating tales of his life on the battle field, and the monster he had become. He had stolen my freedom, taking away my choices to live my life. He had always encouraged me to be brave, to train myself with hunting, wrestling and gymnastics; but now all these resources were useless to fight against my worst enemy.

I had dreamed of increasing the glory and the power not only of my family, but also of the Roman Empire. Instead, I hadn't been able to keep safe even a little slave in my own family. As I had felt protective of Alica, I felt protective of Bella, now. I couldn't allow her to become another of Felix's victims.

What is Bella dreaming of right now? I wondered.

I hoped that her sleep was peaceful and that every nightmare was kept at bay, at least for her.

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Chapter's notes

Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto is a quote from Terentius' (Terence) The self tormentor.

Matercula was a Roman nickname for mother (mater).

We met Emmett. His name is Germanic and means "universal" or "strength." Emeritus is a name with a similar sound, but a different meaning; it means "who has completed his work."

Author's notes

Many, many thanks to the awesome Camilla10 and LJSummers; to BelleDean and Duskwatcher, from Project Team Beta; to Emergency Beta Service, in particular to sleepyvalentina and marly.

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