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NERO Chapter XVII – Helius (Via Appia, Campania, Dies Iovis A.D. X Kal. Iul. DCCC A.V.C., in the 6th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [or Thursday, June 22nd, AD 47]) ‘Slowly but surely withal moveth the might of the gods.’ - Euripides I was lying in the back of the covered horse-drawn wagon, or ‘plaustrum’, somewhere on the Via Appia, south of both Rome and Latium, still with the scroll of Plato’s ‘The Republic’ in my hands. Apollinus was next to me, head on my shoulder while he dozed, drowsiness apparently having been induced consequent to sperm, drawn from his very pleasant body as a result of my earlier manual and oral attentions. We were surrounded by impedimenta belonging to Sribonia and Tullia, for the girls were in a leading coach, or ‘carpentum’, on their way to spend the summer on one of their father’s best Campanian estates. The fact that the wagon and coach were horse-drawn indicated that a rich person owned the little convoy, as more commonly mules or occasionally oxen would have pulled the vehicles. This point was emphasised by the opulence of the external wooden carvings on the large four-seated carpentum, and the cushioned internal luxury, which was in stark contrast to the hard wooden surface and crowded unattractive surroundings endured by Apollinus and me. This had not even been relieved during the stopover of the previous night, necessitated by the lengthy journey and taken at a wayside tavern where the girls took a pre-arranged room. Apollinus and I were accompanying Sribonia and Tullia on their summer holiday because a young male was required to supplement personal servile attendance whilst another oversaw their logistical needs, such as organising their evening meals with the tavern staff, most of whom were slaves. My fellow 15 year-old would not normally have been the first choice for his particular duty because Caius Silius would probably have preferred the boy, or rather his young bottom, to remain at the urban domus. However, Palaemon had bribed the major domo to allow the young Greek to go with me so that I had at least one friend to look out for my welfare. After Sribonia and Tullia had retired for the night, Apollinus and I were forced to return to our wagon to sleep. However, our discomfort might have been much worse if our master had not hired six grizzled, retired but undoubtedly still effective mounted soldiers to guard his daughters and property during the journey south. Not only were many rural taverns, like their urban counterparts, often disreputable and dangerous places at which to stop but also the countryside was full of armed brigands. As my fellow 15 year-old and I were considered part of Caius Silius’ valuable chattels, we felt relatively safe as we attempted to sleep because of the nearby military escort. However, my own slumber was somewhat disturbed by the thought, which I did not confide in my friend because I did not want him to share my worry, that this might be an ideal opportunity for my owner to have my throat cut, possibly after earlier molestation. After all, afterwards, he could have attributed the blame to rapist robbers. As it turned out, my concern began to seem more like paranoia when dawn broke to the loud cry of the tavern cockerel and my continued salvation from Caius Silius’ vengeance. My greatest danger had come from some of the soldiers who, on the previous evening, had made lecherous approaches to spend at least some of the night in the wagon with Apollinus and me. Both of us appreciated that their advances did not result from professional concern for our safety, and the need to guard us intimately, and so we declined their lustful suggestions with as much diplomacy as we could muster. To be fair to the men, they accepted the ruination of their hopes and desires with good grace and humour. Some then alternatively sought, without dropping their watchful vigilance as a group, to satiate their passions with young tavern slaves, whose time could undoubtedly be bought by pressing a coin of very small denomination into their owner’s hand. I was to discover that the estate, which was our destination, was just south of a town called Pompeii and had the benefit of a beautiful coastal position. This overlooked the Sinus Cumanus, known to some as the Bay of Neapolis, the latter great city being about 18 miles to the northwest of Caius Silius’ large landholding. However, I initially cared little about the place’s location or scenery because I still feared that my master planned to take advantage of my absence from Rome, and the protection of Gaius and Palaemon, to do me harm, even though my owner had remained for now in the capital. Apollinus and I were the only two urban servants to be accompanying Sribonia and Tullia, apart from two of their most intimate young female slaves, who shared their carpentum, and the wagon and coach drivers, respectively ‘auriga’, which can also mean ‘charioteer’, and ‘raedarius’. Both of us would also remain with the girls in the countryside until they returned to Rome in Augustus, as we knew their personal needs better than the slaves on the estate. As we approached our destination, we were grateful for the awning above us. We were not certain of the actual date but we appreciated that mid-summer’s day was roughly at this time and the blinding golden orb overhead seemed to be proving this point by pervading the virtually cloudless outside world mercilessly with intense heat as well as light. When my fellow 15 year-old eventually woke, he told me that he had been dreaming of Helius who, to the Greeks and Romans, is the god of the sun. He then proceeded to pass the time by telling me the deity’s legend before turning the subject to his own background, of which he had so far confided little. Apollinus advised me that every day, wearing a radiant crown, Helius drives across the vault of the sky in his ‘quadriga’, or 4-horse chariot, to bring light to his fellow gods and mankind. In the morning, he rises out of the deep ocean in the east and, in the evening, he enters the solar gate in the far west of the world, near the entrance of Hades. During nighttime, the deity passes in a golden goblet through the ocean, where his wife and children live, to appear again at dawn. I was already aware from Apollinus’ actions and words that Greeks often greet Helius in the morning, and say goodbye to him in the evening, by blowing kisses to the god, and that many oaths are also sworn in his name. Several epithets are additionally applied to the deity. He is ‘Terpsimbrotos’, or ‘he who loves mortals’, because he brings sunlight. He is ‘Acamas’, or ‘untiring’, because he brings his great gift day after day. He is ‘Panderces’, or ‘all-seeing’, because nothing escapes his notice. Apollinus proceeded to inform me that when Zeus divided the world amongst the other gods by lot, Helius was absent and therefore did not receive a share. However, through the waters of a sea, he saw a beautiful island forming and claimed it as his own. The deity then named this land after a nymph he had loved and who had borne him seven sons, the ‘Heliades’, one of whom was Cercaphus. Cercaphus married Cydippe and had three sons, Carmeirus, Ialysus and Lindos, who became the founders of the three original cities of the island, which was named Rhodus after their mother. Accordingly, the people of the island regard Helius as their ancestor. Every year, they sacrifice four horses and a chariot to the god by sinking them into the sea. Their greatest artist, Chares, also built a huge statue of the deity, which was called the ‘Colossus’ and bestrode the chained entrance to their main harbour until destroyed by a quaking earth. By my time, the once redoubtable independent Rhodus, renowned for its flora, had been subjugated to form merely a part of the Roman Province of Asia, which also included many other islands in the Mare Aegaeum, plus Caria, Lydia, Mysia and Phrygia, the homeland of Cybele, on the Anatolian mainland. Rhodus’ decline had been accelerated exactly 89 years before Apollinus’ discourse, when the island, then long allied to Rome, became involved in the civil wars that engulfed the Empire after the assassination of Julius Caesar and had refused aid to one of the murderers, Cassius. In his rage, the chief assassin attacked and conquered the Rhodians with his legions, wreaking unprecedented havoc. Among other acts of destruction, he carried off about 3,000 of the works of art that had adorned the island. Cassius additionally carried off and enslaved many of the population, a step shamefully not reversed when he and his fellow conspirator, Brutus, were eventually defeated and killed, in the same terrible year, by Antony and Octavian at the battle of Philippi in northern Greece. This lack of just remedial action resulted not only from the victors' desire not to lose the ill-gotten gains inherited from the vanquished but also from great appreciation by the Romans for the procurement of Greek slaves. Greeks are not only desired for the superior education and skills they possess in comparison to most other subdued peoples. I also think that the Romans, despite their glory over recent centuries, possess a feeling of inferiority towards the Hellenes, a fact they try their best to disguise and will never admit. Everywhere you go, you will find evidence of the cultural debts Rome owes to Greece, from the pantheon of their gods to the architecture of their buildings. However, this indebtedness has not apparently induced much gratitude. Instead, many Latins seem to take great pleasure in reinforcing their current superiority, at least in military terms, over the Hellenes, not least by enslaving as many as circumstances allow. Apollinus now confessed to me that he was the son of slaves and so born into servitude. However, he added that his ancestors were originally free Rhodians, enslaved by Cassius during his dreadful invasion of almost 90 years before. My fellow 15 year-old went on to advise, whilst displaying some dampness in his eyes and clear emotion in his voice, that his parent’s master had died without heir during Gaius Caligula’s reign and so his possessions were forfeited to the Emperor, who had them auctioned. The sale, of course, included the slaves and unfortunately Apollinus’ little family group had been broken up. The boy was bought as an 8 year-old by Caius Silius’ agent who, more fortunately, was not at the time seeking a young eunuch for his client but rather a young servant for the patrician’s kitchens. As the young Greek had previously performed such service in his old master’s household, he seemed an ideal purchase. However, his parents had been sold to someone else and, after an all-too-brief tearful parting, had been taken off somewhere unknown. I gave my fellow 15 year-old’s shoulders a tight hug to attempt to give him some loving reassurance in order to try to prevent more tears now, over seven years after the sadly all-too-common unhappy event he was describing. This seemed to cheer him a little and he moved on to appraising me how he acquired his name. He told me, with clear pride in his voice, that his original master had given his parents permission to call their son ‘Apollinus’, after a famous Rhodian epic poet and scholar, who lived some 300 years previously. However, I was later to discover that a second ‘i’ had somewhere been lost to my friend’s title, for his namesake was actually Apollinius Rhodius. Apollinus, without the second ‘i’, now advised me that it was his fervent hope that someday he and his parents would be reunited and be allowed to go to live in freedom on their ancestral island, which, of course, none of them had actually ever seen. However, our conversation was now brought to a halt because our wagon came to a stop, our destination having finally been reached. Nevertheless, as I quickly clambered out of the vehicle to attend to Sribonia and Tullia, I took the opportunity to pray silently to my dear friend’s favourite god, Helius, to grant my fellow 15 year-old his wish. (Domus of Agrippina, Rome, same time) ‘Aristippus, being asked what were the most necessary things for well-born boys to learn, said, “Those things which they will put in practice when they become men.”’ - Diogenes Besides the Heliades, Helius had another son, this time to Clymene, daughter of Oceanus. The boy, named Phaethon, grew to be a beautiful youth, beloved of another handsome young man, Cycnus. Phaethon persuaded his adoring father to let him ride the quadriga for one day but the beautiful youth found that he could not control the horses. Zeus, to prevent heaven and earth from being consumed in a huge conflagration, hurled a thunderbolt at Helius’ son, who fell dead into the river Eridanus in northern Italia. Cycnus wept for his lost friend so much that he was changed into a ‘cycnos’, or ‘swan’. Meanwhile, Phaethon was set amongst the stars as ‘Auriga’, the ‘charoiteer’, and just above the horizon is also the constellation ‘Eridanus’. In my time, the story of Phaethon is regarded as an allegory referring to people who refuse to recognise their limitations. Of course, 9 year-old Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus did not believe that he had any limitations to his abilities. He was currently attempting to play the lyre under the direction of a hard-pressed and almost despairing music tutor. The man needed great patience because his young chubby pupil possessed no real talent for the instrument, although the boy believed otherwise, regarding the awful noise that he was producing to be truly inspirationally melodic. Nevertheless, the music tutor was being well paid and so went along with the pretence, hoping that not too much damage would accrue to his long-suffering ears. However, if he had known how many other sets of acoustic organs would have to suffer similarly over the years ahead, he might have taken action to encourage his pupil to consider a less audible art instead. (Antiocheia, the Roman Imperial Colony of Pisidea in Asia Minor, same time) ‘The living voice is that which sways the soul.’ - Pliny the Younger All life is believed to originate from Helius. It is also held that every human soul possesses a divine particle that comes from the god and will return to him when the body dies, for this spirit is immortal and longs to be free from the temporal world and the encumbrances of matter. Paul was currently considering his verbal defence in court. Paul was also someone destined to visit Apollinus’ ancestral island during his long travels, which he proposed to start the following year after his health had been fully restored by the good climate of Pisidean Antiocheia. However, his plan now looked as if it might have to be brought forward because his controversial teaching had upset many of the elders at the local synagogue, who had protested to the magistrates about his coercive activities. As a consequence, expulsion from the city for him and his companion, Barnabas, was now a distinct possibility. (Estate of Caius Silius, Campania, same time) ‘It is well to moor your bark with two anchors.’ - Publius Syrus Apollinus and I were, as usual, dressed in the customary tunics, respectively dark blue and scarlet, of Caius Silius’ outer and inner urban households. These colours contrasted sharply with those of the similar garments worn by all of the slaves on our master’s country estates, which, perhaps unsurprisingly, were a dark green. A pretty boy, about two years younger than my friend and me and wearing such verdant attire, now approached us, after I had seen Sribonia and Tullia to their accommodation and helped my fellow 15 year-old to unload the wagon of the young mistresses' impedimenta. After such a long hot journey, Sribonia and Tullia not unnaturally wanted to bathe, and so I had been temporarily dismissed from their service whilst their young female slaves attended to the associated duties. The break afforded me the opportunity not only to help Apollinus unload but also to find the accommodation allocated to my friend and me. It seemed that the boy who now approached us had been charged with this very task, although I was initially unsure because he began to speak to my fellow 15 year-old in Greek, presumably having somehow identified him, just from appearance, as someone else of Hellenic ancestry. Apollinus’ Greek was not very good, having had little opportunity to practise his native tongue since being separated from his parents seven years previously, although he still appreciated what was being said and managed to reply to reciprocated understanding. My knowledge of the language was non-existent at the time. I later learnt from Apollinus that the boy had asked him whether he was indeed of Greek origin and that his reply in the Hellenic language should alone have confirmed the fact. The 13 year-old had then invited him to stay with his slave family, who had been allocated a small dwelling somewhere on the estate and were apparently always willing to act as host to compatriots. The alternative was apparently a type of barracks, where unattached male servants were accommodated and which was not recommended because bullying and worse was rife there. However, my friend kindly responded that he could not accept unless his companion from Britannia could be found room at the familial residence, which turned out to be little more than a shack, albeit one maintained in prim condition by the house-proud occupants. Apollinus also apparently asked the boy diplomatically if he could speak Latin out of consideration for me. After all these preliminary words in Greek, unfathomable to me, I noticed the pretty 13 year-old turn to me to look me over, presumably whilst considering my friend’s request. “Alright,” the boy declared, now in Latin, “I’ll asked father and mother to put you both up, although we’ve never ever seen anyone from Britannia before, let alone have them live with us.” “By the way,” the boy now advised, “my name’s Helius!” (To be continued in chapter XVIII – ‘Arbiters’)
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