The Perfect's Purse: The Synagogue

It was no longer dark in the warm rank air of the sewer where we stood over two terrified lads. I had ordered lights to be brought forward to see them and to gauge why they had headed that way. I left the captives to the impressive menace of Roman justice, in charge of Vindex. 

Livius and I were brought along the tributary to an narrow opening by Tertius, the soldier who had lead the group that broke in towards us. ‘It was locked from the outside,’ he told us as we climbed up a rickety step ladder. We came out into a sweat-stained gully, it was dark and dank but it held no other sign of life than teaming vermin. ‘That way is shortest,’ he pointed left to some slime covered stairs. ‘It leads to the service passages for the coppersmiths and the bath house.’ 
‘And to the right?’ I asked.

A beaming smile shined brighter than the torchlight. ‘That is a long way round to the back of the Jewish meeting place and the better houses,’ Tertius was clearly delighted to show his skill in leadership. ‘There is another sewer gate, it was open but not forced,’ he offered, then added not quite sure such obvious pieces of information could be useful, ‘There’s nobody about down there now, of course. Just more rats.’
‘Good work.’ I congratulated him. ‘Take your team and check the passage to the right, see if there is any sign of disturbance or force used for a way to get clear.

Livius and I returned to question the captives. Both lads quaked in utter dread of Vindex and the armoured guard surrounding them. ‘Anything?’ Livius snapped at Vindex.
Vindex and the guards straightened at our approach. ‘They’re mute, sir.’ 
‘What do you mean?’ Livius prodded one of the lads.
‘Their tongues, sir.’ Vindex mimed as he explained. ‘Slit.’
‘Take them out of here,’ I ordered. ‘And Vindex,’ I called after the squad, ‘no rough stuff, you hear?’ They were scared enough. ‘See they get food and cleaned up.’
Vindex looked at me nonplused.
‘At the camp, boy. Get some of the women to care for them.’

With clear relief Vindex gave as smart a salute as he could manage in the miry sludge.
‘One moment,’ I shouted.
‘Sir?’
‘Are they Jews?’
‘No sir!’ Vindex called back. ‘I checked.’

It took most of my self-control to keep myself calm as we re-entered the baths. I fixed an immobile stare on my face, trying not to consider what was happening to Alcibiades. Rudio told me, before we left the sewer, that he had passed into whatever shade the Jews reserve for themselves. Yet now, having to face the reality of what he would be, a cold, grey, lifeless shadow of flesh, caused a lingering shudder to creep over me.

The connecting foyer where it had all happened was still, not silent just at peace. A rabbi covered in prayer swayed over the body of the dead servant. Alcibiades’ body had gone.
I grabbed a passing slave, about to scream out my anger to know what had happened to him. But Rudio touched my arm. ‘Sir,’ he said gently.
‘What?’ My fury lashed out and covered Rudio.

He pointed to a brightly lit alcove. The guttural tones of alien songs were being intoned, and with them a chorus of ritual action seemed to be reaching an end.
‘Make sure that body isn’t moved,’ I ordered Livius, pointing to the servant, and I strode over to the alcove that contained Alcibiades’ remains. 

Inside the alcove agents of the Jewish god, El, whose personal name they are forbidden to speak, shrank back from me. Yet they also kept a close line, to prevent me entering and making the scene of their rituals some sort of abomination to their heavenly lord. They stared at me as they would at a madman on the loose.

I looked down at my feet, my legs told me they had pulled back for more than ritual reasons. I stank to sky high heaven. ‘My apologies, sirs,’ I acknowledged their right to be annoyed. I moved slightly forward and they drew closer together. ‘Have you all you need for the rites to be decent and proper?’ I asked. ‘My servant will provide the money for all that is required.’ I hailed Rudio. ‘Exchange these silver bits for shekels.’

‘Thank you.’ The rabbi had picked his way across the mired floor to stand near me. ‘That will not be necessary. The family of Abiahu ben Eleazar is not unknown here.’
‘He is my friend,’ I explained, ‘I bear responsibility to him, to his family and to myself.’
‘So be it.’ The rabbi shrugged then, careful not to touch, he turned to speak to Rudio.
‘Go! Do whatever he says,’ I told Rudio when he looked to me for confirmation.

I left Livius in charge of searching the bath house from top to bottom; not that we thought we’d find anything, but it made a statement too anyone concerned that we took this seriously. Rudio managed to find me suitable clean clothes, while I tried to wash away the foul taste of murder and rank stench of humanity.

‘You will accompany me, Rudio,’ I said when we reached the Eleazar household. ‘Avius,’ I spoke to the most junior of my corporals, ‘you stand guard here, and try to keep these boys out of the way. Just keep your eyes pealed, and be ready for trouble.’ The bony youth nodded but gave no real sign of understanding or confidence for the task.

A door slave peered at us suspiciously as we approached the open entrance hall. Lights held the door and its pathway in brightness for the many visitors who arrived before and after us. The visitors showed no signs of mourning, rather all had a party mood that they seemed eager to share.

‘I am Centurion Lancianus of the August Caesar’s legion, third Gallica. A friend of the family.’ My pompous titles did not impress the door slave. Judging by the visitors behind me, he was used to having a much higher level dignity call on the house. 

‘The master is out,’ the old slave measured me with a stripping glance.
‘I know, I have important news.’ I stared him into submission, ‘fetch the master’s cousin Stephanus. He will come when you tell him my name.’
The slave hobbled off to inform the household steward, who looked over at us with a busy glance. The slave then hobbled back and waved us toward an antechamber, ‘Wait here.’
This room seemed dark after the party glow, yet it was not unlit. In alcoves lamps flickered, showing off the tasteful decor. It all spoke of money rather than enjoyment.

‘Well?’ Stephanus entered ahead of the steward. Plainly he was irritated to see me.
‘I have news of your cousin, Alcibiades.’ I said, though his face remained pained it showed no sign of fear. ‘Bad news,’ I added, genuinely sympathetic.
‘What bad news?’ said a twin for Stephanus, a heavily pregnant twin, entering the room. ‘And what do you mean, it has to do with Alcibiades?’ The twin figures all but entwined as they stood together to face me. 

‘This is a centurion,’ Stephanus informed her. She looked unimpressed. ‘My cousin Miriamne,’ he said, ‘Alcibiades’ wife.’
I understood the undertone of emphasis in Stephanus’ voice, but also his annoyance.
‘There is no easy way to say this,’ I started.
‘Alcibiades!’ Miriamne let out a suppressed scream. Reaching to support her bulging belly, she regained her composure and went on the attack. ‘What have you done with him?’ 
‘I have looked after all that I can,’ I answered her. Then looking to Stephanus, as much to choke back my emotion as to ease off Miriamne, I said, ‘Alcibiades is dead.’
Quiet stifled the room.
‘What are you saying?’ Miriamne scoffed at the news she feared to believe.
‘He was killed ma’am. Murdered by a slave from your own household.’
A fanfare of voices filtered in from the entrance. Both Miriamne and Stephanus turned to see the Prefect’s entourage file in. ‘See what this fellow is on about, Stephanus,’ she suggested. ‘I must look to the guests. Uncle Timotheas will need me.’
I spelled out the facts as best I could to Stephanus, but it was only when the rabbi from the bath house arrived and confirmed the final details that he seemed really to accept it as truth.

Returning to camp from the Eleazar household and the scene of the evening’s tragedy, my mind whirled. I gave orders, as though I had thought them through. And I listened to reports, as though I gave them all my attention. But only one detail really filtered in properly, Tertius was sure there had been sticky foot prints from the sewer to the backyard gate of the Synagogue. There and no further. They then seemed to turn back before they faded out.

Instinctively my boy Rudio knew what was required. In my quarters, he told the guard that I was not to be disturbed. He shou-shoued Livius out to inform my team, and to prepare them for action in the morning. And just as I had started to shiver with an uncontrollable quaking, he brought a warm blanket to wrap around me, and with it some aromatic oils for a massage.

An unstopped phial gave out the potent scent of lavandula, sweet and cleansing it seemed to fill not just the room but my aching head. ‘Rest back,’ Rudio instructed me, as he pressed me to sit on my couch. Gently as a nursing mother, he brushed the sweat-streaked hair from my face and smoothed the scented oil over my temples and brow. ‘Here, lie back.’ I felt Rudio take control of me as I let my thoughts swirl across the day. He rubbed more of the oil about my neck and throat, then almost without leaving go of me he undid my boots. A sigh of orgasmic relief surged through me when he began to smooth the oil on my feet; rubbing, kneading and wiping he eased a sense of life into my feet from heel to every toe.

It was not yet cold, the night air in my rooms was still warm. Nonetheless, my body clung to my senses as a permeating chill. ‘Come up,’ I told my boy, ‘lie close beside me.’
Rudio carried a charcoal brazier from the hallway and placed it near, though not too near, my couch. He took the blanket from my shoulders and bade me ease forward so he could take off my tunic. With expert hands he stripped me, tunic, vest and loincloth. Already my excitement lay exposed, but my engorged cock received only an enticing kiss. Rudio asked me to turn round.

Reluctantly I gave way. Soon I was rewarded with a touch from the heavens, he warmed the lavandula unguent in his hands and set to working it into my shoulders. Again the scent filled the room, pushing all other impressions away as I breathed it in. For the first time that day I felt truly clean. As Rudio satisfied the muscles in my back, he drew closer. His breath kissed my arms. After he pummelled my legs I felt him pull apart my ass cheeks, I turned to see him smile back up at me. ‘Relax,’ he whispered, ‘I know you love it.’

I arched my back up to meet his tongue as it worked into my hole. First in teasing flicks, then with a lip to lip kiss, and finally a full on penetration. Without thought or plan my hands centred on my bollocks and cock, I squeezed and pulled in time to Rudio’s probing.

‘It won’t be long, boy,’ was the best way I could find to describe the bliss he gave.
‘Turn,’ Rudio commanded, and I obeyed. He pushed my hands from my cock and chewed on my ballsack, sucking my balls into his mouth then releasing them to ride up in readiness to spew. ‘In my mouth,’ he said, looking at me not as a slave but as a lover. I nodded. He nibbled up the shaft of my cock, drawing me ever closer to off loading. The he laid into my knob, licking under the foreskin, swallowing it to back of his throat, and pressing further home to take all of me in his gagging throat. My groans gave him warning that I had to let go, so he eased back slightly, but only to pump me into an orgasm. The couch shook, and so did I, as he yanked my cock with both his hands, his warm mouth enveloping its head, and his tongue lashing at the great waves of seed that exploded from my aching balls.

I drew Rudio up, kissing him, tasting my spunk still in his mouth. I set him beside me and went down on him, his slender white dick nestled sweet in a soft blond bush. He rode my mouth as I swallowed his dick, daring it to shoot in my mouth.

‘I can’t hold back, sir!’ Rudio pleaded.
‘Good!’ I mumbled and sucked him faster ready for the seed to spurt, and it did, a massive dick splitting burst followed by short surges that trickled lazily out of my mouth.

We lay together under the cuddling warmth of the blanket while night at last began to chill the sultry air. Rudio slept. I guess I did too, but fitfully. All the while the central importance of one thing plagued my mind, the Synagogue and its link to the Prefect.

To be continued ... PART IV: THE PREFECT