Death of Trust Part 8 (Patreon)

“I finished recording the flowers.” Alton set down the tray of blooms.

Giovi squinted. “Let me see?”

Alton held up the sheet of papyrus. “I drew them larger this time.”

Giovi twisted up his mouth. “I see that. Thank you.” He took the papyrus from Alton's hand and brought it close to the end of his nose then inched it away. Once again closer and away. Giovi growled. “You labeled them?”

Alton had. Although watching Giovi search the paper for the words made him wonder if he shouldn't have made that larger as well.

“Damn, my eyes are not what they used to be.” Giovi put down the tablet. “At least Pavle has you drawing decent representations now, for a while there I thought every fern would for ever look like a rose.”

“It wasn't like I had a lot of experience with drawing.” Hell, three years ago Alton could barely read. Now he knew at least three languages. Five if he counted the two Pavle had taught him. Words so old there wasn't even a name for their place of their origin. “Oh, that reminds me, the the white berries you have in the container on the top shelf.”

“What about them?” Giovi picked up his cup of wine and leaned closer to the new samples sitting in a row beside one of the log books.

“I looked at them.” And Alton said look in a way that he knew Giovi would understand he meant with more than just his eyes.

Giovi lifted his chin. “And?”

“They're poisonous. I saw the same elements of their make up in the dead cattle.”

“I'm not sure wether that's good or bad.”

Alton furrowed his brow. “I would think it would be a good thing to know that they ate something that killed them. Could save the rest of that farmer's stock.” It wasn't as if Alton had any doubt about the animals being poisoned. Their behavior, stumbling, trembling, foaming at the mouth, had resembled a similar illness reported in one the black smith's children. The physicians had said there was nothing they could do. After Alton used one of Giovi's plants to cause her to vomit he'd taken bits of old coal crumbles from the bottom of the fire pit and forced them down her throat.

When her parent's weren't looking of course.

Trying to explain to them how the changes in reheated wood coals caused the creation of more pores and a greater surface area that could draw up the poison, would have taken days and the child would have been dead.

At least now they knew the child had eaten the same berries as the cattle.

“I'll send word to the Senate and they can send some men out to burn the plants.”

“No.” The word was out of Alton's mouth before formed a thought.

Giovi looked at Alton over the edge of his wine cup. The sunlight skipped off the beveled edges giving the simple glass a gem like appearance. Not that the glass alone wasn't impressive. Pavle's work had simply turned it into art.

“Why no?” Giovi waited, his expression pure patience. It wasn't the first time Alton had blurted out a statement with no idea why. And not once had the man hadn't gotten cross.

The small wooden crate containing the jar of berries sat on the top shelf of one of the cabinets. Alton walked over and took it down. He opened the lid. The tiny white fruits, with their pearl skin, could be called pretty even when dried into husks. Just last week they'd been swollen and fat. Alton had taken great care when handling them. The slightest bruise cause the skins to weep oil.

Now Alton knew why he'd spoken.

“When you burn oils the smoke is thick and the oil travels.” Wall and furniture were left with stains anywhere a lamp sat close. “You burn those bushes and the oil these berries make will be carried on the smoke just like the oils in the lamps.”

Giovi pressed his lips together. He set down his glass beside a scroll. The marks drawn on the papyrus turned into ruddy lines bending in the wrong direction.

Alton tilted his head.

“You're thinking.” Giovi walked over and took the box from Alton's head. “And it's not about those berries.”

Alton blinked. “I'm sorry, what was I saying?”

“Smoke, oily berries, and not to burn them.”

“Yeah. You burn them and a lot of people will get sick.” Then the Pontifex Maximus would have the emperor convinced the entire city was being punished by which ever god had been offended that day. And of course the only way to appease that god would be more money, more gifts, more sacrifices.

“Then what do you suggest we do with them? They'll have to be removed.”

Alton tugged on his bottom lip. Rays of light pushed through the angles cut into the glass forming red circles.

“Alton?”

“Oh.” He jerked his attention back to Giovi.

“The berries, how do we get rid of them without burning them and risking people getting sick?”

“They can be dried out.”

Giovi made a face.

“Dry them out first so there won't be any oil, or a lot less oil, then burn them. But make sure they do it as far away as possible, and preferably down wind.”

“You're suggesting the plants be cut down and hauled away?” Giovi curled up his lips. “I'm sure city officials will love that solution.”

Because it would cost money. A lot of money. And man power.

“I'm not sure there would be a safer way to get rid of them.” The dance of sunlight drew Alton's attention again.

“What if the plants could be burned hotter than normal?”

Alton wandered over to where Giovi left his glass. He picked it up and set it down on top of the fragile payprus.

“Alton! What the hell are you doing?” Giovi left the box on the table and rushed over. “You know better than to...”

Alton put a hand on Giovi's shoulder stopping him. He had to give the man credit, once again he didn't argue.

“There will still be smoke, so that will need to be filtered. Like fouled water through sand.”

Alton scooted the glass over the papyrus. Lines warped expanding and bending. “A pit might work, but there would have to be a way to get the fire hot enough to burn without having to stoke it.”

He peered down into the glass at the enlarged partial word under concave bottom.

“Alton.”

“I still say dry out the plants first. Then burn them as far away as possible. Just in case.” Alton held up the glass. “Can I borrow this?”

“Why?”

“Because I have an idea and I want to take it to Pavle.”

“Okay.”

Alton started to turn.

“But not today.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because we have a play to attend at the theatre.”

“A play?”

“Yes, a play. To celebrate.”

Had Alton forgotten something important? He counted the weeks, the days, the...

Giovi shuffled a few papers on his table and took out a folded piece of papyrus sealed with a glob of dark wax.

Alton looked for a place to set the glass. Giovi took it and placed the letter in Alton's empty hands.

Alton's throat tightened.

“Go on open it.”

Alton turned the letter over. The smooth papyrus whispered under his finger tips as he parted the sheet moving along the edge until the wax seal popped free.

The letters blurred, the words jumbled, but not before the one stood out.

Manumission.

“Everything has been filed with the proper authorities.” Giovi smiled.

Alton tried to swallow. Warm trails cut down his cheeks.

“You can even vote.”

Because he was free. A citizen. A real citizen. Alton threw his arms around Giovi's neck and the man stumbled back.

“Easy there boy you're bigger than you used to be.” Giovi laughed and hugged Alton back.

“I told you you deserved this.”

Giovi had. Almost every day. Especially after that night, the one and only time Alton ever tried to run away.

“Thank you.” Alton buried a sob in the man's shoulder.

“I hope that you'll stay on with me of course. There is much I can teach you and perhaps you can one day begin your own business.”

Alton stepped back. His cheeks ached from the force of his grin. “Of course I'll stay?”

Giovi cleared his throat. “You'll still be expected to keep up with your room of course, and the study, and the garden. And you'll take over your finances. I have enough to worry about without being your book keeper.”

“Finances?” Alton shook his head. “I don't have any finances.”

Giovi humphed and walked over to where he kept several personal scrolls. He brought back a small book. “Here.” He held it out. “Your monies are on the left, starting in the middle of the book. You'll need to recopy the information, correctly of course, and then return the book to me. I'll give you a month.”

Alton opened the pages. The first deposit had been made a couple weeks after Giovi purchased Alton. Then after that small but regular amounts continued to be placed into one of the temple treasuries. In the end, after three years, nearly four, Alton had enough he could buy his own domus.

“Make sure you get Alexander to till out your money if you choose to withdrawal it. I don't trust that other Priest, Markus.”

“I can't take this.” Alton's voice cracked. “You've released me because I've paid my debt to you in labor.” He wasn't even sure if having the money in his name would cause issues with the manumission.

“Yes, you paid for your freedom with your labor.”

“Then why did you put money away for me?”

Giovi raked a look over Alton. He plucked at the tunic Alton wore then dropped a look down at Alton's sandals. “All the years you have lived with me, from that very first offer to buy you anything you wanted from the market, to now, you have never asked me for anything. You wear a tunic until it is rags and sandals until I beg you to take new ones.”

Alton shook his head because he didn't understand.

“I put away the money you never asked for Alton.”

“Oh.”

“But you must change your clothes if we're to go to the theatre. You need to look like the free man you are.”

Free.

By everything there ever was, Alton loved the sound of that.