“Have you become a Christian and been baptized, done penance and all that, then?” I asked in astonishment.
“You commantled me to yourself,” said Hierex defensively. “Without your permission, I should never have joined, for I’m only your slave. But with the Christians I’ve put aside my sinful slave-dress. According to their teaching, we are equals before Christ, you and I. You must be kind to me and I shall serve you to the best of my ability as I always have. When we’ve shaken off the most vainglorious Jews then our society of love will be an adornment to the whole of Corinth.”
Next morning Hierex* head had cleared and he was considerably humbler, but his face fell when I told him I must go to Asia and take him with me, as I could not possibly manage such a long journey without a servant.
“That’s impossible,” wailed Hierex, tearing his hair. “I’ve only just got a foothold in here and on your account have become involved in all kinds of useful deals. If you are forced to clear off all the balances here and now, then I’m very much afraid you’ll lose a lot of money. Neither can I leave the Christians in the lurch now that Paul has gone and they’re all squabbling. There are widows and orphans who must be protected here. It’s part of the teachings and I’m one of the few in the whole assembly who understands money at all. I’ve heard an interesting story of a master who gave his servants pounds of gold and then asked them to account for how they had increased it. I wouldn’t want to appear an incompetent servant on the day of reckoning.”
In my absence Hierex had put on weight and grown very plump. On long troublesome journeys, he would be no use to me. He would do nothing but complain and puff and pant, longing for the comforts of Corinth.
“It is the anniversary of my mother’s death quite soon,” I said. “Let us go to the authorities together. I shall give you your freedom so that you can stay in Corinth and look after the house.’ I realize I should stand to lose if I suddenly sold everything I have acquired here on credit.”
“Just what I was thinking of suggesting,” said Hierex eagerly. “It must have been the Christian God who gave me such an excellent idea. I’ve saved quite a sum of money, so I could pay half the redemption tax myself. I’ve already found out from a lawyer in the City Hall what would be a reasonable sum for me. I’ve got so fat, I’m no good for physical labor any longer. I’ve also certain flaws which I’ve managed to hide from you, but which would bring down my price considerably at an auction.”
I did not accept his offer, for I thought he would need his savings himself to get started and survive in the avid life of Corinth. So I paid his fee at the City Hall and myself placed the colored freedman’s stave in his hand. At the same time I arranged for authority to be given him to administer my house and property in Corinth. In reality, I was only too pleased to be rid of both him and all dreary financial matters. I did not like his lighthearted way of joining the Christians and did not want the responsibility of him, apart from as my freedman.
Hierex Lausius went with me to Cenchreae, where I boarded a ship sailing to Ephesus. Once again he thanked me for allowing him to call himself Lausius, which he thought a much grander and worthier name than the modest Minutus. His tears on my departure were, I think, quite genuine, but I imagine he heaved a sigh of relief as the ship pulled away and he was rid of a much too young and unpredictable master.
Book VI
Troxobores, a brigand chieftain of the mountain people, made the most of the disturbances in Armenia which were occupying the Syrian legions, and sent an experienced expeditionary force into the hinterland of Cilicia and from there swept down to the coast, plundering the ports and dislocating the sea traffic. The old King of Cilicia, Antiochus, was powerless, for his own reinforcements were in Armenia. Finally the Cleitors began to besiege the harbor city of Anemurium itself. On my way from Ephesus to Antioch, I met a division of the Syrian cavalry, commantled by prefect Curtius Severus, hastening to the defense of Anemurium. Under the circumstances, I considered it my duty to join them.
We suffered a severe defeat outside the walls of Anemurium, where the terrain was more suited to Troxobores’ mountain dwellers than to our cavalry. Severus must take his share of the blame, for he thought he could frighten an inexperienced band of bandits into flight just by having the trumpets sounded and attacking at full gallop, without first finding out about the terrain and the strength of Troxobores’ forces.
I was wounded in the side, arm and foot. With a rope around my neck and my hands tied behind my back, I was taken up into the brigands’ inaccessible mountains. For two years I was kept as a hostage by Troxobores. My father’s freedmen in Antioch would have paid the ransom at any time, but Troxobores was a cunning and aggressive man and preferred to keep a few important Romans as hostages rather than hoard money in his hideouts.
The Syrian Proconsul and King Antiochus belittled this rebellion as much as possible, saying they could crush it with their own forces. They were afraid, with some justification, of Claudius’ anger, should he learn the truth.
“No amount of gold will buy my life when my back is against the wall,” said Troxobores. “But you, oh Roman blight, I can always crucify you to acquire a handsome escort to the underworld.”
He treated us hostages capriciously, sometimes well and sometimes not. He might invite us to his crude banquets, give us food and drink and tearfully and drunkenly call us friends. But afterwards he might shut us in a filthy cave, have the entrance walled up and have us fed through a fist-size hole with the minimum of bread to keep us alive in our own excrement. During this imprisonment, two men took their own lives by opening their veins with sharp stones.
My wounds became infected and tormented me. Pus oozed from them and I thought I would die. During those two ySars, I learned to live in utter degradation, constandy prepared to be tortured or to die. My son Julius, my only son, when you read this after my death, remember that certain ineradicable scars which I bear on my face and which when you were small you thought came from my service in Britain, vain as I was, were not the work of Britons. I received them many years before you were born, in a dark Cilician cave, where I learned patience, and shamefully battered my face against the rough stone wall. Think of that when you so eagerly criticize your miserly, old-fashioned and now dead father.
For all the men Troxobores collected around him and trained as warriors during his successful days, he lost just as many after his first defeat. Intoxicated by his success, he made the mistake of becoming involved in field battles and this kind of warfare his ill-disciplined troops could not master.
King Antiochus treated his prisoners kindly, released them and sent them up into the mountains to promise mercy to all those who deserted Troxobores. Most of Troxobores’ men considered that having collected sufficient loot, they had had enough of the game, and fled back to their villages to spend the rest of their lives as wealthy men, by Cilician standards. Troxobores had these deserters followed and killed, thus causing bad blood between his own tribal friends.
Finally, even the men nearest to him tired of his cruelties and whims, and took him prisoner-to gain mercy for themselves. This happened just in time, for King Antiochus’ army was approaching, slaves were tearing down the walls in front of the cave, and the poles for our execution were on the ground outside. My fellow prisoners asked that Troxobores should be crucified instead of us. But King Antiochus swifty had him beheaded, to put an end to a painful episode.