The Death of Trust part five (Patreon)

Alton had been so caught up mulling over the details of his conversation with Pavle he had hadn’t even notice Giovi standing a few yards from the entrance to the artist’s dwelling. 

Giovi’s thick eyebrows came together. “Is everything all right?” His gaze flicked to the door at Alton’s back.

“Fine.” Alton forced the best smile he could fake. It must have worked because the tension left Giovi’s aging body leaving behind only the kindness, his warmth, his joy. 

You look just like his son.

There was no way Pavle could think Alton was any thing close to the graceful young man he’d drawn, but standing there with those words lingering in Alton’s recent past, he knew Pavle truly believed what he said.

And so did Giovi.

The way he watched Alton in that moment was not that of a man checking on his property but of a man with concerns over someone he loved.  

Yes, Giovi did see his son in Alton far more than was healthy for the mind of even the strongest man.

Giovi motioned for Alton to follow and he did. “So, what did you learn? Or did Pavle spend the entire time talking your ear off?”

This time Alton’s smile was real.

“Ah, so the loose lipped artist drowned you in his voice, rather than knowledge. I’ll have to speak with him. I’m not paying Pavle for his company I’m paying him to teach you.” Giovi laughed.

“He did teach me. Some.” Most of it had been about the man following Pavle. But he’d held more back than he’d divulged. Those were details Alton wanted to know.

Needed to know.

He just had no idea why.

Yet.

“I guess talking your ears off is better than him getting distracted by his house servant.”

“There wasn’t anyone else there.”

Giovi huffed. “He probably made him hide in the back. He usually does whenever he has young students around.”

A woman pushing a cart crossed the road in front of them. A small herd of sheep followed an elderly man in the opposite direction Giovi and Alton walked. 

“I think he worries someone might sweep him away. Especially the really good looking men.” The lilt to Giovi’s proclamation curled in Alton’s chest with a feeling to close to happiness for his comfort. Obviously, men who were attractive included Alton in Giovi’s eyes. If there’d been one fact Alton took away from looking at those drawings it had been Giovi’s memory of his son was of a perfect, flawless body, and probably an equal soul.

And to think he saw that in Alton. Even the smallest grain.

But no matter how much Alton looked like Giovi’s son he wasn’t. And allowing himself to fantasize about Giovi as a father was dangerous. Yes, there were slaves who became citizens, but they were few and they usually did something to earn it. Considering how much Giovi paid for Alton there was no way he wouldn’t want Alton to give that money back. Maybe not on his knees, but with labor. 

Sketching plants couldn’t pay very much. Alton would be an old man or dead before he could pay off the debt. 

But he didn’t have to grow old did he? According to Pavle, Alton could live forever. Well, potentially forever. Ambrosia might stop a man’s aging but it didn’t make him invincible. 

And the man hunting Pavle frightened him for a reason. Pavel hadn’t said why but the reasons lingered in his voice, how he walked, how he watched. 

Pavle feared being caught by…

What was his name?

“So what did Pavle talk to you about? Something educational I hope.” They turned down the main road leading to the wealthy district. 

Alton wanted to lie and keep the things Pavle had told him a secret. “Horus.”

“An Egyptian god?” Giovi made a face. “Why on earth would Pavle think that was pertinent for your education in sketching and writing?”

“The pictures they used.” There’d been several under a sketch of Horus’s face Pavel had stored on a shelf. He’d shown Alton if for no other reason so he’d know to keep an eye out for the man. 

“Do you mean hieroglyphs?”

Were they called that? “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you want me to record things with pictures.”

Giovi huffed again. “I want you to record the plants in sketches but label them with words.”

“But pictures might be more efficient.” Could they be? The more Alton thought about it he was sure it would but that wasn’t important at the moment. It was knowledge Alton needed, knowledge he knew, he felt, he saw, that Giovi had. If only Alton could just read it off the man like the words on a scroll but there were no words, not even pictures, just a strange kind of bend to the space Giovi occupied. 

It was almost as if the thoughts in a man’s mind, his ability to comprehend, recognize, or acknowledge changed the world around them. 

Ridiculous. 

Men could no more influence the fabric of the world than the gods on Olympus. 

But not believing in gods hadn’t meant they weren’t real. They just weren’t omniscient or even omnipotent. They were just men who could take ambrosia and no longer age.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said have you?” Giovi stopped. The scent of fresh sweet pastries traveled on the puff of wind batting around the flowers near the front of his domus. 

Alton dropped his gaze. “No sir, I’m sorry.”

“And you should be. Here I am indulging you with stories of my youth when I took a trip to Egypt and you’re tied up with your thoughts leading me to believe you were actually interested in what I said.” Giovi laughed. “Come, I have dinner waiting. Maybe if I wave some food in front of your face you’ll pay better attention.” He ruffled Alton’s hair and Alton didn’t pull away. 

Giovi opened the door. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were lying to me about meeting Pavle’s servant.” He went inside.

Alton checked his sandals for mud before leaving the step in front of the door. He hurried to catch up. “Why?”

“Because just about every man I’ve seen who’s laid eyes on that boy is in lust with him.” Giovi paused at the midway point in the atrium beside the impluvium were the largest of the potted flowers hugged the basin of water. He fondled a few leaves, lifted a bloom, then with a satisfied nod continued through the house. “Like I said, he hides him for a reason.”

Alton followed Giovi from the Atrium. He was about to ask where they were going when Giovi took a turn to the right and entered the triclinium. A plate of meats and vegetables sat on a small table near two reclining chairs.

Alton remained in the doorway while Giovi made himself comfortable. 

“Come, sit.”

The long red couch with its intricate wood and plush seats all but beckoned Alton closer. But he was a slave and slaves did not eat with the men who owned them.

Was that what Giovi expected? 

Even though Alton accepted himself as nothing more than a servant he couldn’t quell the ache of betrayal in his chest. Apparently he hadn’t done a very good job of not letting himself believe he was more. Or perhaps he’d just been a much better liar to himself than he realized. 

“Alton.” Giovi wave a hand at the reclining chair on the other side of the table. “Sit Alton, talk with me. I want to hear about your day.”

Alton knew then he wasn’t the one in danger of believing he was Giovi’s son. The man was in danger of letting himself believe.

It was tempting. It was so tempting.  He could become this man’s dead son. Take him for all he wanted to offer. Fill the void in his life. Now that Alton had the knowledge of why Giovi saved him everything made sense. All his kindness, all his gifts, his desire for Alton to have an education. There was no way Giovi believed Alton was his son. The man’s mind was sharp and he registered the world around him with deep comprehension. Madness did not taint his reason. 

No. Giovi did this because he wanted to. Because he wanted Alton to take that place. That alone put Alton in a position of absolute power over this man.

Pavle was right. Alton could become a citizen in less than a year. He was sure he could become a very wealthy citizen because it wouldn’t take much to manipulate Giovi out of everything he had. All because he wanted the impossible. 

Self-preservation screamed for him to take what was offered, but Alton remained where he was because doing so felt right.

Confusion erased the easy smile Giovi wore. “You don’t want to sit with me?” A flicker of pain filled in the gaps.

Alton did that. Alton hurt the man before him with just his words. He wanted to stop, but couldn’t.

He neededGiovi to hurt.

Alton’s throat tightened. His eyes burned.

“I told you Alton, you have nothing to fear from me. I will not harm you.”

But not because of who Alton was. Not because he was obedient and truthful to this man. Not because he was willing, quiet, and subservient. 

But because Alton looked just like a dead boy born from the woman Giovi loved.

A tear escaped down Alton’s cheek. Giovi stood. He started forward and Alton took a step back. 

“I just want you to come and eat with me.” Giovi’s smile trembled but remained.

Someone had to say it. Someone had to break the illusion or Giovi just might lose his reason. But everything Alton had gained could be destroyed. And he could very well wind up under the whip of another slave trader. Even if Alton didn’t want to—and he did not want to—he had no choice. It was no longer about it being the right thing out of honor, but the right thing for a path to the coming days.

The compulsion weighed down Alton’s will. He could have pushed it aside, instead he let the untamed river sweep him from the banks.

Alton took a breath. The force it took him to speak sent tremors down his knobby frame. “I’m not him.”

Giovi shook his head. “You’re not who?”

If Alton said it there was no turning back. There was nothing he could able to say to heal the damage. Alton’s voice broke twice before he steadied it enough to form words. “Your son.”

“My son?”

“I saw the drawings Pavle did for you.”

Giovi’s expression crumpled.

“I’m not your son Giovi. No matter how much I look like him, I’m not. And I never will be no matter how many gifts, freedoms or meals you give me.”

There was a moment of denial, where Giovi’s eyes burned with rebellion then the strength Giovi carried himself with slipped away pulling down his shoulders, erasing the joy from his face, deepening the laugh lines around his eyes until they were nothing more than folds of flesh checking of the decades of his life. Yet he continued to age. Not physically, but in his presence, until there was nothing but a withered man with no will, no heart, no pride.

Absolutely nothing to live for. 

And the only one to blame for that was Alton.

Even knowing deep down it was all for something bigger than himself was not enough to snuff out the raging fire of guilt searing through his chest. 

Alton did the only thing he could. He fled letting his feet carry him to some unknown point. He couldn’t stay here. He’d destroyed the one good thing in his life, the one thing he wanted, because he’d allowed the urgeto do so override his heart.