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Amica

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Velut Luna said:
Amica 45


My days pass slowly, waiting for the return of Fannius. Eulalia says one day he’ll leave me for another girl who turns his head – well, maybe, but I don’t want to prejudge him...

One evening, while I’m passing along the colonnade in front the exedra (side-room) with the Alexander mosaic, I hear voices from the porch of the large peristyle. It’s three slavegirls, two of them are ones who’ve come here recently, they’re speaking softly. Curious, I approach the window that overlooks the porch, and stay concealed in the shadows, listening. They’re talking in Greek, two of them, and one of them is translating what’s being said by the third in Hebrew.

She’s giving accounts of events that occurred long ago in the land of Palestine, as told by the Judaean girl. Her mother’s mother several times witnessed the wonders performed by a man who, she said, is the son of God. She later became a Christian after he was crucified, she was baptized by his disciples, and at her wish, her daughter, her husband, and their children were baptized.

Then she goes on to tell how, some years ago when she was still a little girl, the Roman legion commanded by Titus destroyed Jerusalem. Nothing was left of the Temple but only a single wall, her family was exterminated, she was captured and sold into slavery. Almost all were killed, and the people of those lands were scattered throughout the Empire. They hug and kiss each other before returning to their cubicles, they will meet tomorrow night to continue hearing her stories.

I remain hidden in the shadows, waiting until they’ve gone before I come out of my hiding place, mystified by the stories I’ve just heard.

The following evenings I follow the movements of this group, and remain always hidden, listening. They are talking about this new religion, the teachings of this man, teachings that are full of goodness. They talk about him with enthusiasm, almost rapt and ecstatic, my heart pounds to hear certain words, '... you are no longer slaves but free men ...'. And then the final miracle, after the man died, he rose again – some women, including the grandmother of the Judaean slave, went to the tomb and found it empty, an apparition of a winged young man told them that they won’t find him among the dead, he was alive.

I go on being very troubled by these stories, but I don’t dare tell Eulalia.


The Emperor Vespasian has issued an edict for a census to be taken of everyone living in the Empire, of all citizens, freedmen and slaves. Every citizen, man and woman, has to go to the palace of the Prefect of their Province, with their documents to attest that they are Roman citizens or freedmen. As for slaves, their masters have to send lists of those they own. For those of the highest rank, officials of the Prefect will be sent to their homes.

So one morning the commissioners in charge of the census arrive. All of us slaves are gathered in the peristyle, we pass in line before the table at which they sit. Each one of us has to say our name, where we were born and when. The officials check the log compiled by Lucius, writing the details in a register of their own, and whoever, going by Lucius’s register, is not yet fully documented has to wait to one side, including me.

'Amica!' I step forward.

'Where were you born, it doesn’t say here...' he asks, glancing sternly at Lucius.

'When I came here I didn’t even speak your language, and I couldn’t tell where I was born. For this reason my master couldn’t write anything, only the name that he’d given to me.'

Surprised by my prompt response they look towards Lucius, who gives a nod of his head.

'Amica is now my name, the one I had before was Kuu, which in our language means Moon, or Selene in Greek, or Cynthia. The name by which you call my land is Thyle, that’s what it’s called by your Admiral, Commander of the Mediterranean Fleet, and great naturalist, Gaius Plinius Saecundus (Pliny the Elder). My age, reckoning as my people do, is 200 lunar months, which corresponds to a little less than seventeen of your solar years.'

'How do you know these all things? And how come you can speak Latin so well, and calculate correctly? How do you know the Admiral of the Fleet?'

'Since I couldn’t communicate, my master entrusted me to Eulalia, the Greek slave, she took care of me, taught me what I now know. The Admiral, I met him one day when he came to the Villa of Quarto. I was ordered to be at his service for as long as he stayed. As for the name of my country, the son of my lord discovered that, when he asked me to tell him the story of how I was brought here as a slave. He, remembering what the Admiral has written in his book Naturalis Historia (The Natural History), counted the days of my voyage on the sea and realised that my land, that the Romans have not yet conquered, is the one referred to as Thyle that book.'

They write my details in their register, and also update Lucius’s records, then they fill in a piece of papyrus that they hand to me.

'This is your document, you will need to produce it on any request of the Roman authorities, and for the next census, keep it with care.'

I read, 'Amica, formerly Kuu, Selene, Cynthia, born in the land of Thule in the year DCCCXIII AUC (813 from the foundation of Rome), slave of Lucius Silius Satrianus.'

'The name Thule spelt with a “u” is not correct, you have to write Thyle, with Greek “y” '

They look at each other in astonishment, these two officials of the Imperial Prefect, then they retrieve my document, turn the letter 'u' into 'y' and correct the two registers.

'She’s a very intelligent young woman, my slave Amica, I’m very proud to own such a slavegirl,' says Lucius smugly.


Now they turn to the next slave among those that don’t yet have their documents.

'You, what's your name, where and when were you born?'

'Sara is my name, and I was born in Jerusalem, seven years before the son of your Emperor destroyed it.'

'Of your Emperor, Caesar Vespasianus Augustus is the emperor of all, even the arrogant Jews like you!'

'I am no longer a Jew, I'm a Christian! The Romans and the Jews killed the son of God!'

'Insolent Jewish Christian, how dare you! Bind her to that pillar and flog her!'

Two praetorians of the Imperial Prefect strip off her tunic, tie her to the pillar, and flog her with great violence until poor Sara falls to the ground moaning.

Lucius is obviously annoyed by this abuse of power by the officials of the Prefect in his own house - he can’t stand that Titus Suedius Clemens, 'the inclement', as he contemptuously calls him, or even worse 'the dickhead', but can’t oppose him, he’s too powerful, and to rebel against him would entail some serious risks for his safety and for his fortunes, so he pretends to approve the work of the two officials.

Sara is standing naked between the two prefectural guards, the officials interrogate her but she still refuses to answer, she seems like the man of whom she tells, staying dumb before the Imperial Prefect Pontius Pilatus.

After registering all the other slaves, they erase the name of Sara from Lucius’s roll.

'This poisonous snake, we’re taking away!' they say, and march out of the door with their prisoner.

What pain I feel for this poor girl, about my age, but just too proud and rebellious in this world where might is right, she’s the victim, and 'Vae Victis!' (woe to the conquered!). I feel that I shall see her again, and my heart is swelling in agony at the thought of her tragic fate.

Through the half-opened door I can see other poor prisoners, Sara’s now added to their number, they’re being taken away to finish their days with the most humiliating death that the Romans use against enemies.

'Eulalia! Eulalia! Why? Why such ferocity? Sara told the truth! It was no lie, she was just being proud to affirm and defend her beliefs. Aren’t the Romans tolerant of the religions of the conquered peoples? Haven’t you got your Greek Gods, and even made them become their gods? Why persecute these innocent people who believe in their God? Their prophet has proclaimed a message of love, forgiveness, he said “turn the other cheek”, and “give to Caesar what is Caesar's” when they asked him whether it was right to pay taxes to Rome. They aren’t rebels like Spartacus, they’ve never picked up a sword to kill a Roman!'

'Words are sharper than the edge of any sword. And we must be clear, was Sara was taken away because she’s a Hebrew or because she’s a Christian? Perhaps for both reasons. As you saw when we looked around Pompeii, being a Christian is being among the future enemies of Rome and of the Empire, being Jewish means being among the real and present enemies of Rome. Jerusalem and its Temple were destroyed to eradicate their rebellion. But one thing is certain, if they do not respect the gods and temples of the vanquished, the victors will never be safe.'

This phrase resonates in my mind as a prophecy, as if Eulalia, unwittingly or not, had hurled a curse against the tyranny of Rome. I say nothing, I cannot respond after witnessing the expression of the divine word.
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I do love this story, beautifully told by Velut Luna, cheered on and ably assisted by Eul. We're so damn lucky on this site!

Barbaria1 said:
Oh, poor Sara .... :oops:
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You're right Barb. That certainly would dent attendance at Christmas Eve communion. A wafer, a sip of wine, and a damn good thrashing!
 
Amica 46


For several days I’m trying to make out what the other two Christian slavegirls are doing, but I can’t figure out where they go to hide and talk. During the day they’re behaving strangely, always on the lookout to see if anyone’s coming, then they disappear in the evening. I suspect that, somehow, they manage to get out of the house.

I lurk, hidden in the shadows, and covered by a long black shawl, near the door that opens onto the Street of the House of Vettii, but for many nights I don’t see anyone prowling around there.

Then, one evening, while I'm almost ready to abandon the enterprise, aha! I see two shadows emerging from the small cubicle next to the door, followed by a bigger shadow. The slave who’s on guard duty must be an accomplice of these truants. He moves the two beams that secure the door, opens it by the narrowest of margins, just enough for the two small shadows to slip out.

I'm curious to know where they’re going, but I'll have to keep my curiosity to myself until I can get outside before they do. To judge how long they stay out, and how they manage to get back in, I have to wait. I begin to count the beats of my heart, I'm not agitated and the beat is regular, I count to one hundred, then, to reckon up the hundreds I pick up a pebble and drop it into the sleeve of my tunic - one, two, three ... I count up to ten and, with my fingers, I count tens ... ninety-eight, ninety-nine, hundred; a pebble, and start again.

I thought I’d have to wait longer, but I see the slave come out of the cubicle, swing the door slightly open, and the two shadows flit in. They walk quickly along the peristyle, heading towards the female dormitory. I drop the pebbles from my sleeve into a small vase which has a little soil at the bottom, it’s been left near the gardener’s shed. Tomorrow I’ll come and count the pebbles. Now I have to think, and go back to our room.

'Oh! Welcome back, I thought you’d run away!'

'I stopped in the great peristyle to gaze at the moon. It was a little scythe, I was observing the grey part at the light side, and watching the stars hide behind the darker edge. I didn’t realize that time was passing so quickly.'

'Come on, I'm tired today, we'll discuss this wonder of the sky tomorrow.'

I lie down next to my Eulalia, my teacher, and soon feel her fall asleep.

Now I have to reason: I had’t seen those two going to the door, they must have been hiding in the guard-slave’s cubicle before I arrived. That slave must be a Christian, or else he’s in love with one of them, but they certainly hadn’t been having sex in the cubicle, judging by the tone of the conversations I’d heard in the evenings when Sara was still here.
I can’t work out how they are able to let the guard when they come back, I didn’t hear any calls, nor even a knock on the door, so how do they communicate from outside, considering the walls are so thick? Do they tap a special signal on the wall with a stone? If you keep your ear close to a wall, you can detect tapping, but that would be inconvenient for the guard who’s waiting. And then, the main question, where do they go? Definitely not a-whoring in some tavern, they seem more devoted to chastity than carnal pleasures.

The warmth of the bed conquers my thoughts.

All day I go on brooding on the events of the previous evening. I keep an eye on my two crafty birds that fly by night. Towards evening, I pretend I want to transplant a seedling of a medicinal herb that I found in the kitchen among the vegetables brought from the market in the morning, one that still had a root on it. I go, without hiding myself, to the gardener’s shed, and easily find the small vase, it’s the only one with stones in it. I lay them on the ground and count them, forty-five.

With a quick calculation I estimate the time, more than an hour and a half and less than two. So, my first goal’s reached – it’s a length of time that wouldn’t raise too much suspicion, it would only call for a little lie, like the one I told Eulalia last night, and no-one would think they were trying to run away, as they come back again and can be seen among the others. At worst you might suspect that the two of them have some mutual affection and want to get away and to exchange confidences or enjoy each other’s company for a little while.

As I’m pressing down the last handful of soil, I see the two doves walking along the colonnade, they approach me, we exchange a greeting, I add a little water that I’ve brought in a pitcher and then walk away, while they continue towards the porch.

Hidden, and from a distance, I try to make out what's going on - they look around to make sure no-one’s watching, then they enter the cubicle of the guard, who hasn’t arrived yet for his night duty. So he comes and goes too.

Enough for today, I’ve added a new element to my investigation. I'll continue tomorrow, just now I’m not sure what to do, I’ve got to figure that out.
 

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Amica 47


Today, just during the daylight hours, Dromos has the duty of keeping the gate at the back of the house, where the slaves from nearby farms come and go, bringing their produce, from their fields, orchards and pastures to the Villa Quarto. I find him sitting in front of the entrance to the cubicle, we say good day, I’ve brought some dates with me and a small glass jar of Falernum wine. I beckon him to enter the cubicle, we sit on a wooden seat against the outer wall. I’ve come to ask if, on one of the next few days, he could accompany me on a visit to a part of Pompeii that I’ve not yet visited, the area that lies to the right of the doorway, towards the city walls north of the port of Nola.

He opens the door so I can show him the way I mean. To the left is the way to the brothel and the Street of the Temple of Mercury, to the right, in the distance, one can see the city walls, a number of houses - some are elegant, like the one just ahead of us on the left of the street, namely the House of the Vettii - then there are artisans’ workshops, where lots of people are coming and going, and some houses still in ruins from the earthquake fifteen years back. Meanwhile I’m exploring the wall near the entrance with my eyes, pretending to read the campaign poster of the candidate for the post of Duovir (one of two joint ‘mayors’ of Pompeii), Marcus Holconius Priscus, who’s supported by Lucius. I proceed for a few steps along an alleyway between the houses, and three steps from the door I see, at the height of my shoulder, what looks like a small gap between the bricks of the wall – just a clue for further research inside the cubicle!

We go back in. In the meantime some farmers have arrived with big baskets on their backs. So as not to block the entrance while Dromos is talking with the farmers, I slip into the cubicle. I peer for signs of a crack in the wall at my shoulder-height, but I find nothing, only a small fresco with a girl who’s having sex with a young lover, a typical decoration for a cubicle where a man has to stay for a long time on guard-duty, often with nothing to think about. I get close to the wall for a better look, I look further to the right then to the left of the point corresponding to my three paces along the alleyway, nothing. A false clue? I wonder, but I keep looking, now exploring a little higher and a little lower. A sharp sound of something breaking under my feet makes me look down at the floor, I’ve crunched a small shell, a limpet, one of those that grow on rocks on the beach and you can eat.

Eureka! There it is, just a few feet from the ground I see a small slit, just in line with my third step outside - and the shell? I wonder a little, but yes, shells when they fall to the ground make a definite noise even if they’re small. From the outside, you could slip the shell into the slot, it would roll in, and the guard, who’s waiting for it in silence, can detect it, leave the cubicle, and open the door to those seeking access! Ingenious! A mystery revealed, another piece of the puzzle falls into place. I chat with Dromos a little longer, organising my visit in the next few days, while I eat a date to reward myself for the mission accomplished, and Dromos drinks the Falernum which he’s glad I brought.

But there are still too many open questions. I’ve got to figure out how I can observe the movements of the two truants. I have an idea: a few days ago I met a pretty slavegirl, a petite brunette with flashing dark eyes. On the last day of the week I was out with Dromos strolling in the market, when among the stalls of the macellum (food market), we met this jewel. He knows her, she’s called Eutichide, a Greek, and from the way she greeted Dromos I inferred that there’s something more than just a common language and background between them - another little mystery to unravel! This beautiful Eutichide works in the House of the Vettii, I must get into that house with some excuse or other, pretending to want to talk to her, and while I’m there I can check how well you can see the back door of the house of Lucius.

I hardly sleep all night thinking about my plan.

As if by magic, a great opportunity arises: Lucius and Fulvia have been invited by Pomponianus to his Villa di Stabia. In three days time they’ll set out, and they’ll stop there for at least four. Eulalia will accompany them, and one of Fulvia’s maids, and most of the others will go with them in the two wagons accompanying the carriage in which Fulvia will travel. But Dromos will remain here, with another slave, to guard the house. I should not pass up this opportunity.

I prepare a little gift for Eutichide, a necklace made of small shells and transparent pebbles you can find on the beach, and after lunch, with the help of Dromos, I go out by the back door. I knock on the door of the Vettii - Aulus Vettius Conviva and Aulus Vettius Restitutus are twins, former slaves who after their manumission established a flourishing trade in fabrics, and now they’re rich, they employ a lot of servants, but they remain ignorant peasants.

A slave opens the door to me and makes me wait in the vestibulum while he goes to call Eutichide, but wherever have I got to? On the wall there’s a fresco, it’s Priapus with his huge penis resting on the pan of a pair of scales, on the other pan there’s a pile of gold coins, and on the opposite wall, right by the door, a graffito reads: 'EUTY (chis) GRAECA A (ssibus) II MORIBUS BELLI (s) ', namely:' Euty, the Greek girl with nice manners (is available for) two asses (copper coins!)' Now I understand the looks exchanged in the marketplace! I will have to repay Dromos for having restrained himself from going off with Euty when he was escorting me, but I wouldn’t have been all that shocked since my visit with him to the brothel!

Euty arrives almost running and lets me in. I’m struck by the beauty of this house, the atrium is decorated with colorful frescoes, Leda and the Swan, Danae and Jupiter, there are two huge chests standing against a wall, and beyond there’s the peristyle and a garden bathed in sunshine.

As soon as the twins see me they say to each other at one and the same time, 'Have you bought a new slave and not told me?'

I smile and greet them,

'I'm Amica, slavegirl of Lucius Silius, I’ve come to visit Euty.'

'I didn’t know Euty’s...' says one twin, and the other goes on, '... even with girls now!'

'Oh, no, no! We met at the market last week, I’ve just come to have a chat with her in Greek.'

The twins grin, wink, and turn away.

We sit on the low wall at the edge of the garden, I give her my gift, she hugs and kisses me and puts on the necklace. I explain that I’ve got to get to the bottom of a little mystery - as soon as it's dark, I want her to watch from the second door of the house that opens onto the road, I want her look where the two slavegirls go who come out from the door of the house of Lucius, and who they meet. It won’t be hard for her to get the co-operation of the guard, she has very convincing arguments to her advantage. We make our appointment to meet tomorrow, which is seventh day again, at the market, close to the stall of the sandal-seller.
 

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messaline said:
Well done, Velut, but...hum.... is Amica becoming a kind of ..."Sherlock Holmes" ? :D

It's sure that in all times, women are so much nozy ....:devil:
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Luna thinks she's Miss Marple :p​
 
Velut Luna said:
'I'm Amica, slavegirl of Lucius Silius, I’ve come to visit Euty.'

'I didn’t know Euty’s...' says one twin, and the other goes on, '... even with girls now!'

'Oh, no, no! We met at the market last week, I’ve just come to have a chat with her in Greek.'

The twins grin, wink, and turn away.
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Spurious Sciurus splutters into his wine...She wants to converse with the other girl in Greek? About Sappho and her...erm poetry no doubt ;)

Still Brava Luna and brava to our brilliant little Amica :clapping:
 
Undercover Luna ...

sexy-girl-at-bar-counter.jpg

She is in every time and every place ...

Seen or not seen ...

In the shadows.

Of our hearts. :bdsm-heart:
 
Velut Luna said:
Thanks Siss!
and here the fresco in the house of Vettii the Priapus!
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What's being implied here with the balance -- that his cock is worth its weight in gold. :rolleyes: What else of value could be in that little bag?

Honestly, to me it looks like his pecker has a nasty infection!:eek: Get that thing away from me!!!!:eek::eek::eek::eek:
 
roxie said:
What's being implied here with the balance -- that his cock is worth its weight in gold. :rolleyes: What else of value could be in that little bag?

Honestly, to me it looks like his pecker has a nasty infection!:eek: Get that thing away from me!!!!:eek::eek::eek::eek:
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Exactly.
 
Amica 48


To get back in our house again, I’ve arranged with Dromos to use the trick with shells. I insert the shell into the slot, and I sense it roll into the narrow passage between the wall-bricks. After a few moments the door opens, my accomplice confirms that when the shell falls to the floor it makes a loud, unmistakable noise.

It remains for me to arrange my outing in the next few days. Leaving by the front door, we’ll first explore the upper Decumanus ( street running east to west), that’s the Street of the Temple of Fortune, as far as the Nola Gate, then, turning left, we’ll come to the Street of the House of the Vettii, and finally we’ll travel back up the Street of the Temple of Mercury. We’ll have the opportunity to observe each building and workshop.

Apart from that, I’ll have no more to do but wait for the departure of Lucius, Fulvia and Eulalia. Meanwhile, always keeping my distance to avoid arousing suspicion, I regularly monitor the movements of the two I’ve got under observation - just as it’s evening, I go into hiding in the cubicle, before the night watchman arrives and darkness falls.

This night-life business seems to be a well-practised custom, not only by male slaves, who go to taverns or brothels to waste the little money they can earn with extra odd jobs, but also by the females, they aren’t going out to spend, but to earn money by prostitution, then they come back in and no-one notices anything. It seems only Eulalia and I and a few others remain in the house! But maybe it's better this way, the dangers in the city at night are many, and if a slavegirl’s caught she’ll likely end her days locked in a brothel giving her favours to anyone and everyone, not to mention getting the prescribed amount of lashes – it’s very important, this matter of lashes, not just because of the pain, but for the fact that, if one day the boss decides that you can be freed, you can’t become a Roman citizen, with all the rights that this implies even for women, if you've got scars from a flogging on your body.

But there’s another thing that’s mystifying me these days: since I’ve been given permission to leave the house accompanied by Dromos to go to market or to some shop, I’ve been getting messages written on small pieces of papyrus, sometimes only short sentences, sometimes little poems, delivered to me by a child, always a different one, as I walk down the street. With some trick or another the little boy catches my eye, with a shout or a laugh or a compliment that’s surprising coming from such a youngster, then he runs up to touch my hand and puts the note into my it. I have a secret admirer, a lover who’s impressed by my beauty, which is passionately celebrated in these writings, but one who dares not reveal their identity. I hate to throw away these little gifts, I keep them hidden among my few things, and sometimes I re-read them. They’re written correctly, they’re never brazen, and the handwriting’s even, petite, very neat. Sometimes as I review them I try to imagine the face behind these expressions of feeling, but I can’t visualise it. Sometimes the expressions are very pretty, almost feminine - supposing my lover is a girl?

But for now my priority is to find out about these secret sallies out from the house of Lucius. While at the market, held every seventh day in the forum and macellum (food market), I’m waiting close to a young man with jet-black curls and bright eyes who’s displaying his stock of small jewellery on a mat laid on the ground. All his own work, he’s saying, when I fell a tug at the hem of my tunic, a child puts a note into my hand. It says 'Euty'. Is it the usual billet-doux? No, it’s written in Greek, with uncertain spelling: 'I cannot go out, come here'. So she can’t come for the appointment, but maybe she has something important to tell me. I choose a pair of earrings made from a common shell, cutting off the gibbous part making a ring inscribed with small signs, I’ll give them to Euty as a reward for her work.

earrings.jpg​

I’m still browsing among the sandals on display to see if there’s something nice but not too expensive, I only have a few asses (copper coins) Eulalia’s given me. I’d love to buy these new sandals that are so fashionable now, but I get just a couple of very soft leathers shaped like a tiny feet and stitched around the edge - you can’t walk on the ground in them, they’re worn on your feet along with sandals with soles, they’ll keep my feet warm during the coming winter.

We arrive at the House of the Vettii, I knock, the slave takes us inside and calls Euty. She hurries to us, she seems almost frightened. She tells me that the girls go out, covered with thick dark veils. They are met by three or four men, who are waiting by the walls, and they make their way to the ruins of a house that collapsed in the earthquake. After less than two hours they come out, and others come out too, they bid each other farewell and disperse, going off in different directions. But this isn’t the thing that has alarmed her - rather it's the fact that she seemed to see other furtive, hooded figures who were following their movements, standing in the shadows behind the corners of the buildings, never coming close. They don’t seem to be the usual bad guys who set out to harass those who pass through the city at night, to mug them and steal something. She believes they are much more dangerous, she hazards a guess that they may be men of the Imperial Commission!
 

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Velut Luna said:
gibbous
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Luna and I have had one of our fascinating discussions about this word.
Luna discovered it as a word to describe the shape of those ear-rings,
made from sea-shells of some kind with the convex top sliced off, leaving a horny ring. :devil:
Latin gibbus or gibba is 'a hump', and in Late Latin and Italian, gibbosa just means 'humped, having a hump'.
Gibbous came into English c1400, initially in herbals and medicinal works,
with the sense 'humped, protuberant' - yes, even 'tumescent' :D
But nowadays if you come across it at all, it nearly always refers to a 'gibbous moon',
one that's between half and full:

20060902 waxing gibbous Moon m.jpg

Still, it can be used as an adjective for something that has that shape,
and so we decided to keep it.
Working with Luna on Amica is so fascinating, so enjoyable, I'm loving it! :bdsm-heart:
 
Eulalia said:
Luna and I have had one of our fascinating discussions about this word.
Luna discovered it as a word to describe the shape of those ear-rings,
made from sea-shells of some kind with the convex top sliced off, leaving a horny ring. :devil:
Latin gibbus or gibba is 'a hump', and in Late Latin and Italian, gibbosa just means 'humped, having a hump'.
Gibbous came into English c1400, initially in herbals and medicinal works,
with the sense 'humped, protuberant' - yes, even 'tumescent' :D
But nowadays if you come across it at all, it nearly always refers to a 'gibbous moon',
one that's between half and full:

View attachment 180465

Still, it can be used as an adjective for something that has that shape,
and so we decided to keep it.
Working with Luna on Amica is so fascinating, so enjoyable, I'm loving it! :bdsm-heart:
Click to expand...

Luna is so much more than a hot biker with a brain. ;) :devil::rolleyes: :bdsm-heart:
 
Amica 49


Euty is really smart and resourceful, she’s quickly realized the danger of the situation, but how are we to prevent accidents that can happen while our two fools are out at night? Alerting them by talking to them would expose me, maybe they’d think that I'm watching – well, even if I am, I’d rather they didn’t know it. Writing a message would be just as dangerous, they don’t seem to know how to read, they’d ask someone to help them understand the script, and it would become public knowledge, even more dangerous, as someone might think I’m in complicity with them, if they recognized my handwriting.

I don’t know what solution to adopt, perhaps the only way would be to prevent them from going out, but how? Having two Christian girls found in the house, and perhaps under his guardianship, would be a real disaster, especially for Lucius - the Imperial Prefect would think that Lucius wants to hide these dangerous individuals in his house to save them from the 'attention' that’s reserved for them, given the treatment suffered by the poor Sara.

Listening to a few speeches in the Forum, I’ve heard that in various cities there’s growing hostility towards Christians and Jews. Here in Pompeii residents are very tolerant, there are people who come from all over, with their different religions and their customs, and no-one feels concerned about these things, but the Prefect does not tolerate them, he has the imperial authority, and certainly has orders from Rome to cleanse the city of this 'rot' - and his militia are worse than him.


Eννυκτὶβουλὴτοι̂ςσοφοι̂σιγίγνεται ‘Night brings counsel to the wise’ (Menander), meanwhile, this evening the two are going out, where shall I go then? I just hope that nothing nasty happens. I await their return, after a couple of hours they are back, that’s over, now I can go to sleep too – am I stupid to worry about these things?

Master and Mistress, and Eulalia, have departed today for Stabia, Dromos accompanies me on my planned tour of inspection.

We go out, straightaway Dromos meets a friend, now a freedman, Eros Brittius. He says his bosses are tired of wasting money repairing their properties that are getting damaged by the continuous earthquakes. They were the owners of five blocks, but they’ve freed their slaves and given them their houses. He’s got the largest and most beautiful and has transformed it into a restaurant, he wants us to go and see it at all costs, we can’t refuse the invitation, so we’ll take a walk along the lower Decuman Way. We go along an alleyway and turn onto the Decuman Way.

A few steps from the square, a running child collides with me, and leaves in my hand a rolled papyrus, on it is written:

HEAR, goddess-queen, bearing your silver light,
Bull-horned you wander through the gloom of night,
Torch-bearing maiden, through the heavens you stride
Waxing and waning, bright in your female pride,
Mother of ages, fruit-bearing, luminous,
Wisest of women, mystic and numinous,
Lighting the sad as in the sky you rise,
All things you see with your delightful eyes,
Lover of lovers’ vigils, over the stars you reign,
Who, like your slavegirls, carry your sweeping train,
Come, gracious goddess, ornament of night,
Come, Moon, display unveiled your glorious light,
Shine on these stumbling words with generous rays -
Please, maid, receive your suppliant’s humble praise.

Euthycus.​


Now I know the name of my admirer! But who is Euthycus? Where is he? Ah! Perhaps he’s the young man with the red cape who’s lurking under the Tetrapylon Arch - and now he’s turning down the street on the left, I couldn’t follow him into the maze of narrow streets of the ancient city.

Just before the entrance to the Thermae Stabianae (Stabian Baths, Pompeii’s biggest bath-house), there’s a crowd of people waiting at the entrance of the shop of Clodius, the cloak-dealer, we understand that cloaks in new colours have arrived, in time for the coming winter season.

The large arch with four columns, the Tetrapylon, located at the intersection of the lower Decuman Way and the high street, the Stabian Way, is faced all over with white limestone. It’s a gift to the city from the Holconian clan, of Etruscan origin; between the columns are statues of the donors. Sitting in the shadows is an elderly man with white hair and curly beard, bright-eyed, displaying his small votive images – Lares, Priapi and other minor deities; he is Marcius Calidius. A man in elegant clothes approaches, hands some coins to the old man, and clutches his talisman with bony hands, as he leaves the old fellow spits at him with contempt, muttering a curse between his teeth.

Dromos explains to me that it’s Marcus Holconius Priscus, the candidate to be Duovir - the old man has cursed him because, if he’s re-elected, he’s promised he’ll tax even the itinerant market-traders.

The Lower Decuman Way, beyond the arch, is long and straight, heading towards the Sarno Gate. The buildings are two-storied, their sloping roofs or small balconies cast their shade over the entrances of a number of shops, taverns and workshops that overlook the high pavements.
In addition to the signs painted on the facades beside the doors, even the smells coming from the inside of these shops tell us their trade. The fragrant aroma of bread fresh from the oven, or the delicate hints of precious oils from the hairdressers’ shop, the smell of grilled fish from the restaurant that mingles with the smoke of exotic incense that is burning on a small altar at the junction with of a stinking lane where there’s no doubt a 'fullonica' (laundry). We follow Eros, who has to collect the cloths he’s left here for washing. He tells us that it’s the laundry of one Stephen, a freedman who bought this large house and converted it to a laundry, he earns incredible figures, nearly five hundred silver coins per day, his secret is in the substances he uses to give a 'pure scent' to cloths.

Around these profitable activities there are other small shops of humble but helpful artisans like the old man bent over his last, intent on repairing shoes.

Under a portico with eight columns is the entrance to the restaurant of Eros. It’s not a tavern at all, but a range of finely-decorated saloons, with tables and stools everywhere, patrons sitting waiting to be served, and slavegirls - elegantly, though scantily, dressed - carrying trays overflowing with food. Eros brings us a papyrus with the list of the food and wines on offer with the prices. I'm amazed by what I read, today he’s serving giraffe and ostrich meat, with pancakes of spelt flour and cheese, at a lower price there’s venison with vegetables, and then the ubiquitous garum preserved in jars with labels indicating the content and origin, with high prices:

"Mackerel Garum: Produced by Scaurus, in the workshop of Ninhtus," and also, "Vintage Anchovy Garum aged three years: Produced by Gaius Calpurnius Placidus".

Eros invites us to stay, insists on serving us personally as he sits with us for lunch. Dromos tastes all the dishes and wines that his friend suggests, I more modestly try some apple pancakes with delicious fritters of ground almonds, nuts and honey fried in olive oil, sipping my favourite drink made of cooked grape juice mixed with fresh water that becomes sparkly.

He doesn’t not request payment because he says we’re his guests, and adds softly that his daily earnings exceed a thousand silver coins daily.

I’m just sad that in my little purse tied on my belt I've a few copper asses that Eulalia’s kindly given me, and those I rarely venture to spend. These enterprising freedmen are becoming the masters of Pompeii!

We continue on our way through the crowd of people walking on the sidewalks and even in the middle of the street, a confusion of slaves carrying baskets, women with children in their arms or holding them by the hand, people coming in and out of shops, shopkeepers haggling, gesticulating, praising their wares.

I stop near the shop - tiny, though not without attraction for a woman – of the jeweller. Enraptured by the sight of the jewels neatly displayed in a blaze of sparks and flashes of colour, I can only look, I haven’t got enough money even for a flake of coral. I stand entranced gazing at a cameo, the female figure has as a diadem in the form of a moon. The jeweller asks me if I want to buy it, I reply that I'm only a poor slavegirl, he smiles at me and invites me to look, all the same, at some of his other jewellery – shell bracelets with good-luck symbols engraved on them. I say goodbye to the kindly craftsman, promising that when I’ve enough asses I’ll return to his shop – I’ve almost got tears in my eyes.

Next I stop to view the exhibits under a portico with four columns, the Antiques Shop, with inlaid furniture from the far east - on one of these there’s a finely wrought ivory figure, it’s a completely naked girl, shapely, shamelessly displaying her sex, wearing just a collar, anklets and bracelets, with many rows of pearls. She has a complicated hairstyle topped with a golden crown. She’s an Indian deity, Lakshmi, a goddess of fertility, beauty and good fortune. All around are offered little ebony elephants, Egyptian deities such as Isis, to whom there’s a temple dedicated here in Pompeii, Greek and Etruscan vases, and a jade dragon that comes from some far distant land.

Now the houses and shops are more modest, used by the poorer people. Workers with arms and faces dusty with lime are entering the cook-shop, a list of dishes is painted on the wall, the prices much lower than Eros’s. Near the tavern of Ascula, a comely dark-haired girl is strolling slowly and sinuously, watching the passers-by attracted by her slinky sensuality.

The owner of the cook-shop comes out and yells some strong swear-words, but that does nothing but attract other males to take a look at this drama of verbal confrontation. The busty brunette smiles and winks at Dromos, who responds with a nod. He just knows all the pretty girls in Pompeii! He explains to me that she’s called Zmyrnia and comes from the region beyond the Aegean sea where the city of Troy once stood, destroyed by the Greeks with the trick of the wooden horse devised by Ulysses. She works in the even more down-market cook-shop of Asellina, where in addition to waiting on customers, she serves as a prostitute along with three other slavegirls. Ascula was swearing at the girl because by coming and strolling past she was stealing his customers, luring them to his rival’s eating-place.

Almost at the end of the street there are still some shops, like that of Zosimus the potter, with amphorae lined up on the sidewalk against the wall, and one of a garum-seller – his prices are very cheap, indicating a product made only from the rejects of the much more valuable garum that’s exported throughout the Empire.

There are low huts here, huddled one up against another, in one block there are more than ten, just counting the doors that open on the lanes. They’re inhabited by refugees from Nocera who took refuge in Pompeii at the time when Hannibal destroyed their city. These are the poorest of the poor, labourers employed in construction work, carters who transport goods between the warehouses and the shops. To the left, built up against the walls between the Sarno Gate and that of Nola, we see the stables and wagons, carthorses waiting in harness, the smell of urine and excrement from so many animals makes us quicken our step.

Now, through the Nola Gate and the street that crosses the Upper Decuman Way, Nola Street, we approach the end of the Street of the House of the Vettii, also called Mercury Lane because of a fountain there with a statue of the god with the winged helmet. Whores from the port of Nola stand here waiting for customers, these are professionals, not brothel-slaves, mostly poor girls or young widows, dressed with just a tight band around their hips and a piece of cloth that barely covers their breasts. They are far more sad to see than those who do their trade in the taverns, they can at least pause by a fire to warm up a little, since their ‘work-clothes’ force them to exhibit their assets, their nakedness.

A painted board reads: 'VERVM ETIAM PELLICES' (true whores), to distinguish them from some youths, not much younger, dressed as girls and also waiting to hire out their flesh. Seeing us, one of the whores shouts to Dromos in Oscan:

'Bet your blonde bitch can’t manage to suck your dick! No way! Her mouth’s far too small for your bull-prick, come with me, only one as! And I even swallow all the cum!'

Dromos would like to avenge the insult, calling me a bitch, but I grab him by the arm and drag him away, we have a mission to accomplish, we turn along the street.

When we’re just before the ruined house we stop. Looking closely I notice that the weeds growing close to the wall have been trampled where there’s a gap in the wall, but it may not mean anything, someone could be using the ruins as a urinal. The house on the other side seems uninhabited, and in the area there are many shops that would definitely be closed at night - a quiet place, perhaps a bit too quiet.

We carry on in front of the house without stopping, lest we make people aware that our attention is directed to this particular building. It seems the owners died when it collapsed in the earthquake, and the property now belongs to a relative who lives in Rome, to whom this heap of bricks is of no value.

As we continue towards Mercury Lane we discuss a possible strategy: we must make sure that the freedman Emidio Sabino, Lucius’s steward to whom he entrusts the management of the house in his absence, deploys the night guard to some other job. The one who’ll replace him won’t play along with the game of the truants, so at least for a few days their jaunts will be prevented.

Emidio is a very good man, already advanced in years, he’s maybe fifty. He administers the responsibilities entrusted to him very conscientiously. But how? Talk to him? Dangerous! Another obstacle that seems insurmountable.

Then, as always, things happen unexpectedly. An earth-tremor a few days ago, which caused little damage in the city, seems to have resulted in a bit of cracking in the plaster on a wall of the large triclinium in the Villa Quarto, it’s been reported by some of the farmers who bring supplies. The night watchman, when he was a free man, was a bricklayer. He’s a Sicilian, and even here in Pompeii he undertakes many odd jobs and minor repairs. He offers to go to inspect, and if necessary he’ll stop to oversee the work.

I am sure, it's better for him to stay in the Villa rather than spend his nights in the guardroom, jerking off looking at an erotic fresco - he doesn't get a toss from those two truants, for sure, still less a steamy blowjob! He'll be away for longer than is necessary, he won’t miss the chance to eat and drink in the company of the others maintaining the Villa, and the farmers who always bring some game at this time of year.

Narrow escape, at least for a while.
 

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Luna's doing a wonderful job bringing Pompeii back to life for us -
all the buildings, statues, shops, even the shopkeepers' names,
are the ones that were actually there in 79 AD.

Euthycus's poem is actually one of the Orphic Hymns,
Greek poems used in the rites of a mystery cult around the BC/AD turn.
My doggerel version is pretty heavily adapted
from one by Thomas Taylor, an eccentric 18th century scholar
whose obsession with ancient cults and esoterics verged on the barking mad.​
 
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