Nobody's Position in Rome is Safe: A Slave's Rise to Power

CHAPTER I: HOME, SWEET HOME

The House of Classius was more tense than it had been for some time. A storm had swept across the marble floor and climbed the pillars of the new villa Classius had built only three years earlier. Now Classius and Flavia, his wife of twenty years, wæere waiting for the storm to break.

When they had married twenty years ago, Flavia was the daughter of a prominent member of the Roman Senate. Classius was a soldier, eager to climb the ladder with his ambition and cunning. Over the years, Classius had risen to the command of all the Roman legions in Southern Italy, thanks to the efforts of Flavia's father. But while the years had taken away Flavia's youth and beauty, Classius' admiration for himself had grown.

It had all started last year. A young and beautiful female slave had been brought to the house of Classius from the east of Asia Minor. This girl, who was still young, had innocent, big eyes. The green of her eyes, combined with her dark skin, was reminiscent of the forested mountains of eastern Asia Minor. But unlike the mountains, which were full of jagged ridges, this nameless girl's skin was flawless. As soon as Flavia saw this girl who had been brought to serve her, a strange jealousy filled her. She stroked the girl's brown curls, then looked at her from a distance and said with a suggestive smile, "Pulchritudo pedum meorum," "The beauty of my feet." After that, the girl's name remained Pulchri.

Classius was on an expedition when Pulchri was brought in. When he finally returned months later, his wife Flavia greeted him and immediately took him to the bath. While Flavia was bathing him in his most fragrant and well-groomed state, caressing his strong arms and breasts, Classius thought that he was already bored with Flavia. At this moment Pulchri entered with a wine jug. She was dressed in a thin white dress that showed off her perky breasts. She was not supposed to make eye contact with her master, but she looked Classius straight in the eye. She was a bold, confident woman, and that look said: "I want you."

Classius was supposed to take the wine and drink it with Flavia. At least that was Flavia's expectation when she took the jug from her slave and made her husband drink the wine. But instead, Classius stepped out of the bath with his splendid body, wrapped a loincloth around his waist, and looked up at Flavia. I don't know if Flavia noticed the disgust in his eyes, but Pulchri did. She didn't want to waste this opportunity: "Do you have any other orders, dominus?" she asked. This question was addressed to Classius, not Flavia.

Classius took his eyes off Flavia's aging body and looked at the beautiful Pulchri. "Yes," he smiled as he looked at her once more, "prepare my study room, I will read alone for a while."

In this way, Classius was in effect saying to Flavia, "Leave me alone." As Pulchri bowed her great eyes and stood back to do her master's bidding, Flavia was as disappointed as a defeated commander. For months she had waited for her husband to arrive, eager to welcome him back into her bosom, but Classius had gradually lost interest in Flavia since her father had died years before. Flavia was no longer an important figure in Roman society. Classius, on the other hand, was respected by everyone. Classius thought: This woman exists because of me. And what did he get from her? Flavia had lost her former beauty and youth. That day, but especially the moment he saw Pulchri, Classius was thinking: This woman must no longer exist.

* * *

When Classius left Flavia behind and entered the study, he found Pulchri leaning over his desk. Pulchri had also noticed his arrival, even though her back was turned. That was why she now raised her wide, shapely hips a little more lasciviously.

There was no need to do so, because Classius had been struck by the beauty of this young slave from the first moment. He approached her from behind and stroked her curly locks. "Where are you from?" he asked in a soft voice.

Now Pulchri fixed his mischievous gaze on Classius' piercing eyes. "I'm from Persia, dominus."

Classius found it hard to resist the lust in the voice of this slave less than half Flavia's age. But what he didn't realise was the ambition hidden behind the lust in Pulchri's voice. Pulchri had made up his mind from the moment she was brought into this house that he would take Classius into her hands, just as Roxana would take Suleiman years later.

" Oh!" said Classius, now gripping Pulchri's hips, "they told me of the mystical beauty of Persian women, but I did not believe it."

Pulchri smiled coyly. "In my country, too, they tell of the strength of Roman men..."

Classius grabbed Pulchri's hips. He turned her over and leaned her against the table. "No more Roman men or Persian women," he whispered in the slave's ear, "now there is Classius and Pulchri."

Classius was hungry for youth. And he entered Pulchri's still alive, still fresh hole. Now Pulchri's moans echoed off the walls, reaching all the way to Flavia, who was pacing furiously in the next room. Never before had Classius heard one of his slaves moan with such pleasure. His voice, which only a few days before had been barking orders to his soldiers, this time came out with the surrender of a man in love and mingled with Pulchri's moans. Flavia, the other slaves and surely Pulchri too realised that nothing would ever be the same again.