Chapter Five: Callicles of Athens
Joseph arrived at the marketplace shortly after one, marveling at items trader Callicles had for sale.
First on his list were windows, of which he purchased ten, six for the house and four to be used as replacements. Borrowing a slave, he carefully loaded them in the wagon, placing woven straw padding between. A pair of iron plows was bought, along with stylish bronze oil lamps, glass tableware, crystal wine goblets, silver dining utensils, articles of clothing, and an exquisitely crafted leather covered down stuffed couch with two matching chairs and table. Sturdy shoes were another item purchased for he, his wife, Jesus, and the Magdalene. Expensive tools were bought for carpentry work and farming. Joseph was spending money like a drunken sailor, buying items he had always wanted but could never have afforded in the past. Having spent 950 denarii by five, next on his list were draft oxen. Several pair were available, offered at the incredibly low price of 50 denarii. Two pair, a set of males and a set of females for breeding fit the bill, Joseph paying Callicles Roman silver for the animals.
Shortly after dusk, Jesus and consort strolled up while his father sat in the wagon eating spiced barbecued pork, washing it down with a bottle of Gaul’s finest. The oxen were tethered to the wagon, feeding on hay.
“Hello son,” said Joseph while Jesus inspected the oxen.
“These are fine animals,” Jesus replied, “How much did you pay for them?”
“50 denarii for each pair, practically a steal!”
“I’ll say, I figured they’d be at least 100 a pair.”
Prefect Gavinal and merchant Callicles walked up while Jesus was inspecting the windows. “Julius!” Gavinal exclaimed, taking Jesus’ hand and shaking it firmly, “Have you met friend Callicles?” The prefect smelled like a brewery, wine heavy on his breath, he and Callicles having continued their drinking during the afternoon.
“Not yet,” answered Jesus, “Maria and I have just arrived kind Gavinal; this is my father, Julius Chrysippus the elder.”
“Greetings Julius the elder,” said Gavinal while they shook hands.
“I’m Callicles,” the merchant announced, he and Jesus shaking hands firmly. For having been drinking all day, the man was surprisingly sober, his reddish complexion, especially on his balding head, revealing that he was a very heavy drinker.
“You carry fine merchandise,” said Jesus as the others conversed in the background.
“We try,” Callicles replied, “So Julius, my nephew told me you’re interested in slaves,” slapping his hands together, ready to do business.
“Yes,” said Jesus, “Four would be nice, six would be ideal.”
“I have thirty-six available, mostly Nubians, Egyptians and Greeks, but prices are steep,” Callicles replied, waving a hand toward the slave wagons.
“Name your price sir.”
“They start at 600 denarii, complete with chain, lock and shackle. My highest priced slaves are 800 each.”
“Six hundred, let’s see, that times six makes thirty six hundred,” said Jesus.
“Yes.”
“Tell you what, I’ll go five hundred each for six in total, that’s three thousand denarii.”
“Cash?”
“Cash is all Bacchus Julius Chrysippus ever deals with,” Gavinal interjected.
“Bacchus, the god of wine,” said Callicles.
“Epicurus’ favorite god,” Jesus replied, Callicles smiling broadly.
“Julius was a wine merchant in Etruria, from Vesuvii,” said Gavinal.
“Volsinii,” Jesus corrected.
“Whatever Julius, I’m drunk.”
“That explains the name, do you imbibe Julius? Callicles asked, “I have fine wine from northern Gaul.”
“Of course, my father and I are very fond of wine.”
“Excellent, we’ll have some together; you said three thousand cash for six slaves?”
“Yes.”
“You have a deal,” Callicles declared, motioning toward the slave wagons, “Shall we pick them out?”
“Why not,” said Jesus, looking to his father and winking.
Returning the wink, Joseph and Mary continued to converse with Gavinal while Jesus headed to the slave wagons with the trader. The slaves were contained in several cage wagons, Jesus surveying the lot. Many were Greeks or Egyptians, along with exotic Nubians and a small number of Jews. An attractive young Jewess was also imprisoned, sitting quietly in one corner of a wagon.
“What are those black slaves in the other cage?” asked Jesus, never having seen Negroes.
“Nubian barbarians, from south of Egypt.”
“Like Ethiopians?”
“Similar, but much more exotic and savage,” said Callicles. “Due to their rarity in Anatolia, my Nubian slaves are 800 each, the males are strong as an ox and make great gladiators.”
“Their color looks similar to the people of India, but the facial features and hair are much different from anything I’ve ever seen,” Jesus observed, shocked at their appearance.
“Well, they’re Nubians,” said Callicles, “Tell you what Julius, if you want to buy some, I’ll cut the price to – ”
“I’ll stick with Greeks,” Jesus replied, still staring at the unfamiliar Nubians.
“Okay, if you’d like to purchase a group of six, all used to each other, I recently bought a lot from an estate on the Mediterranean coast. They’re all Greeks, all skilled, and one is a teacher. One woman is a midwife; I forget her name, but she’ll definitely come in handy to the owner for delivering children or veterinary work.”
“Really?” Jesus asked, walking to a separate cage, six slaves within. Inside were four men and two women. Looking at the group, Jesus noted all seemed strong and healthy, with one, obviously the teacher, an older bearded man sitting on a bench. “These slaves look fine to me,” he said, “I’ll take them.”
“They’re a damn good deal at 500 each,” a frowning Callicles replied, thinking he may have made a mistake offering slaves to Jesus at so low a price. “They were with their former master for over ten years, so there’s no need to break them in, and like I said, each one is skilled.”
“Sold,” said Jesus, looking to the group.
“You six, get your asses out here,” Callicles barked, opening the cage door. All obediently exited, the trader chaining them together.
Glancing to the other cage, Jesus saw the imprisoned Jewess sitting quietly.
Making eye contact with his Hebrew kinfolk, the vampiric Christ took pity on her. Turning to the trader, he asked, “How much do you want for the Jewess?”
“Oh yes, look at her, she’s only fourteen years old and a virgin, she’d make a perfect whore wouldn’t she?”
“I suppose,” said Jesus, looking to the girl.
“I know,” a chuckling Callicles replied, “Jew broads are great pieces of ass, I’ve laid a slew of ‘em. A friend of mine bought her near Galilee and traded her to me in Damascus for some horses. I reckon eight hundred will do it, she’s gorgeous isn’t she? You know, I’d screw her if I had the time, I’ll bet she’s tight as a knot, but I’m a businessman, and cute pussy’s as common as sestertii.”
“Make it five hundred and I’ll take her too,” said Jesus, hiding his disgust at the trader’s remarks.
“Five hundred?”
“Yes, thirty five hundred for all.”
“But she’s a fine piece of – ”
“I don’t care, thirty five hundred denarii or nothing,” said Jesus, “I can go to Rome and buy slaves like this for half the price you’re asking.”
“How about thirty six fifty? She’s a fine looking girl, and I have to make a profit on – ”
“I’m sure you're making a profit friend Callicles, thirty-five,” said Jesus, holding firm.
“Deal,” Callicles replied after a reflective pause, shaking Jesus’ hand firmly, a bit saddened that he had driven so hard a bargain for some of his finest slaves. “You’re going to screw her aren’t you?” he asked, unchaining the Jewess from an iron bar.
“I have a wife,” said Jesus, “But my father may need a concubine.”
“That old man? I don’t mean to offend, but he must be sixty.”
“He’s fifty five and my mother is forty nine, would you believe she’s pregnant?”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, at 34 years of age I’m going to have an infant sibling.”
“It’s not unheard of, but is very rare; I imagine the midwife I just sold you will come in handy after all,” said Callicles, chaining the Jewess to the other slaves and fastening the free end to one of the cage bars.
“Bring them to the wagon, then I’ll pay you.”
“Sure, I have to head to my office to retrieve the titles, I’ll meet you there in a bit.”
Jesus nodded, walking to the wagon, where his father, Mary and Gavinal were still engaged in conversation. Drusus the Illyrian had dropped by, enjoying a pitcher of strong Egyptian beer, making comments on occasion while constantly ogling the Magdalene. “We have seven slaves father,” Jesus announced, nodding to Drusus.
“That’s two more than I have!” Gavinal exclaimed, “I guess I’ll have to buy a pair to keep up with you friend Julius!”
“He still has thirty or so available,” said Jesus, looking to the prefect.
“What kind?”
“Mostly Egyptians, Jews and Nubians, I think I bought all the Greeks he had.”
“I only buy Greeks, maybe next time,” said Gavinal.
Callicles arrived with the slaves, shackled in chains, following behind him. “Here are the titles,” he said, handing seven parchment documents to Jesus, “Everything’s in order, signed by the prefect of Chrysopolis and his notary. I suppose since Gavinal’s here he’ll be witness for the transfer.”
“So noted,” Gavinal replied with a nod, looking to Jesus, “Don’t worry Julius, I’ll have Marcus notarize them tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” Jesus answered.
“No problem,” said Gavinal, turning to Joseph and the Magdalene.
“Climb on the roof of the wagon slaves,” Jesus ordered, “From here you’re going to our farm, there I shall inform you of your duties.” Young Demosthenes had been correct; the slaves understood Latin perfectly, and obediently climbed aboard the wagon. Reaching into a leather satchel, Jesus produced 3,500 denarii, handing a heavy bag of Roman silver to the trader.
Shaking Jesus’ hand, Callicles said with a broad smile, “Thank you Julius, you drive a hard bargain. No matter, I’ve made a hell of a lot of money today, the only others who spent more than you were friends Gavinal and Marcus!”
“I know Marcus, he’s the town notary,” replied Jesus.
Noticing the Magdalene, Callicles asked, “Who is this beautiful creature friend?”
“My wife, Maria Hittica.”
“She's lovelier than Helen of Troy,” said Callicles, bowing to Mary.
“Thank you sir,” Mary replied, disdaining the remark, finding Callicles a man that she simply didn’t like.
“Care to get drunk?” asked Callicles, thirsty for wine.
Looking to his father, Jesus asked, “Will you run the goods to the farm?”
“I’m going to need a hand with the oxen and slaves son,” answered Joseph, “Could we come back later?”
“Hold on a minute folks,” said Callicles. Calling a mercenary, he instructed in Anatolian, “Fetch a slave and have him bring a Gallic wine cask and a brick of cheese here for my friends.”
Nodding, the mercenary found a slave, who carried the heavy cask to the wagon while the mercenary brought along the twenty-pound brick of cheese. “A present for you and your family Julius,” said the trader, “Fine Gallic wine and sharp cheese from Hispania.”
“Thank you Callicles,” Jesus answered, again shaking his hand, “You’re a good man, and if you wish to stop by our farm you are welcome. We have cured meat in our smokehouse, fresh water in our well, wine in our cellar and now, seven fine slaves to serve us.”
“I may visit later,” Callicles replied, making a mental note that wine was available at the Chrysippus farm.
“He lives just up from Marcus’ place,” said Gavinal, “Right on the Euphrates.”
"Are you coming back to get drunk with us?” Callicles asked.
“Definitely,” said Jesus, looking to his father, who nodded eagerly.
“Stop by Gavinal’s office when you return, that’s where we’ll be,” Callicles advised, Jesus, Joseph and the Magdalene climbing aboard the heavily laden wagon with the oxen in tow. Looking to the prefect, he added as Gavinal smiled, “We’ve had a binge going for the last day or so, and I’ve been working so hard tonight I’m almost sober, can you believe it?”
“At times sobriety can be a curse, we should see you in a few hours,” Jesus answered, taking the reins and pulling out.
“I’ll need another twenty gross of roof tiles for the store, Julius the elder bought all I had a few weeks ago,” said Drusus, drunk on Egyptian beer.
“Okay, Demo will fix you up,” Callicles answered, grabbing a bottle of wine from a slave.
* * *
The pace was slow as the horses strained against the weight, Joseph remarking, “Lousy Arabians, fast as lightning in a race but not worth a damn when it comes to pulling power.”
“We’re almost there,” a patient Jesus replied as they drove onto their property.
“We should have hitched up those oxen, it’s a wonder the horses haven’t strangled from the load we’re carrying,” said Joseph, harnessing for horses in those days simply oxen harnesses, only smaller. When hauling heavy loads they would often cut a horse’s wind, especially on hills.
Arriving at the house, they stepped from the wagon, his mother appearing in the doorway. “Look woman, oxen, slaves, everything!” Joseph exclaimed, while Jesus unhitched the tired horses.
“Yes,” Mary replied, “You're running late, the dinner I made is cold.”
“I’m sorry,” said Joseph, “But don’t you worry about that anymore, we have slaves to cook dinner for you!” Mary nodded and stepped into the house, the Magdalene following.
“She didn’t seem particularly impressed,” Jesus observed, helping the slaves from the wagon.
“She’s pregnant son, women act weird when they’re pregnant.”
“Maria!” Jesus called to his consort, as the slaves were present.
“Yes Julius?” asked the Magdalene, appearing in the doorway.
“Would you deal with the slaves while father and I stable the animals?”
“Sure,” she replied, ducking inside, returning with a lit table lamp and stepping from the porch.
“Feed them meat and vegetables, and make certain they and the beasts have water,” said Jesus as she led her charges to the slave quarters.
“Right,” she answered.
He and his father leading the beasts to the stable, Jesus said, “Get their names tomorrow, I’ll speak to them in the evening so we can figure out what duties to assign them to.” Leaving the animals in the stable, they headed to the house and entered. Grabbing his cold dinner, Joseph wolfed it down, his wife sitting at the table.
“We have to head to Gavinal’s,” he explained with a full mouth.
“Why?” asked Mary.
“To get drunk mother,” said Jesus.
“Oh,” his mother replied, staring at the pair.
Giving his wife a hug, they left, walking to the trail leading from the farm. “Since I have to unload the wagon and deal with the slaves tomorrow, I’d better not get too drunk should I?” Joseph asked.
“Indeed,” Jesus agreed as they headed for town.
The efficient Magdalene did everything Jesus requested, cruelly leaving the slaves chained in their quarters, but feeding them what all considered a banquet: winter vegetables from Vitellius’ market, a side of smoked boar, a bucket of fresh water, ladle, and several drinking cups. Heading to the stable, she fed and watered the horses and oxen, returning to the house to check on Jesus’ mother.
Making certain she was settled in for the night, Mary Magdalene then went out and killed someone by sucking his blood until he died in her arms, and like any normal vampire, not caring if he was a robber, highwayman, priest or merchant. Though she had no proof, she figured the man was some sort of criminal, as he had skulked in the shadows some miles south of town. Not having Jesus around to prevent her from taking those he considered unsuitable made it much easier, and she took a free hand in obtaining supper. Robbing the victim, she found nine aurei and several hundred denarii in a satchel. Also inside was assorted jewelry and smaller monetary denominations – bronze sestertii, orichalcum dupondii, red copper asses, and bronze quadrans. Finding rolled parchment documents, she ignored those, tossing them in a thicket of blooming briars. Finished, she threw the corpse into the Euphrates, where it floated away in the current.
Unknown to her, the man was no thief; he had been a Roman moneylender on his way to collect interest and principal payments from the many indebted people of Tibernum. In typically efficient Roman fashion, another collector would be sent later, so it didn’t matter. During the time she was taking her victim, Jesus and father were heading past the town pantheon and continuing to Gavinal’s residence. Arriving at the gate, the guard recognized Jesus and let them in, advising them to go to his office instead of the residence.
“Why?” asked Jesus.
“Because his wife will kill you if you wake their baby,” the guard answered, “Nothing personal, but Phoebe Claudia Domitia doesn't like drunks.”
“We’re not drunk yet, and if she doesn’t like drunks, why’d she marry Gavinal?” asked a smiling Jesus, his father frowning.
“For one thing, he’s wealthy, for another, probably because he knocked her up with their first child a few years back, his daughter Gavinalla Marcia,” the guard replied with a grin.
Jesus nodded to the guard, he and Joseph proceeding to Gavinal’s office, a small annex located off the mansion atrium. Knocking, Callicles opened the door and let them in, greeted by the prefect and the trader as they entered.
“Good evening,” Callicles slurred, looking to Jesus and smiling while he took a gulp of wine from a goblet. In the lamp lit room, Callicles’ barroom tan was all the more evident, his forehead and face bright red from years of drinking wine in excess.
“Welcome Julius the elder and younger,” said Gavinal, sitting at his desk drinking directly from a bottle, almost too drunk to rise from his chair.
“Greetings my friends,” Jesus answered, “It looks like you’re happy this evening.”
“It all depends,” said Gavinal.
“On what?” Joseph asked.
“On if you’re drunk,” said Gavinal, tossing a bottle of wine to Jesus. Catching the bottle underhanded, Jesus broke the clay seal, dug out the wax stopper, and chugalugged from the bottle, handing the remaining half to his father, who quickly drank the rest. “Can you catch another?” asked the prefect, Joseph sitting the empty bottle on his desk.
“Easily,” Jesus answered, clapping his hands and holding them high.
Gavinal threw a bottle to Jesus, who caught the bottle overhand with his left. Breaking the seals, he chugalugged from the bottle, handing the remaining half to his father.
“Sinistere,” Gavinal observed.
“Yeah, he’s a southpaw, so is Demosthenes,” said an unsteady Callicles, putting down the glass and leaning heavily on the desk.
“Gaius Julius was left-handed; so was Marcus Tullius Cicero and Senator Cato,” a superstitious Gavinal replied, not recalling Jesus had signed the contract and deed using his left, “The Delphic Oracle has said those who are sinistere are favored by the gods.”
“Really,” said Jesus, “I imagine after some of the things I’ve been through, the gods must be showing me favor lately.” Callicles collapsed unconscious, Jesus looking to his drunken form on the marble floor.
“Looks like we got here a little late,” said Joseph.
“Not really,” Gavinal replied, “Callicles has been drinking for two straight days, it’s about time he had rest.” Rising unsteadily, he walked over to move the trader to a leather couch.
Jesus, assisting him, hauled Callicles to the couch while Joseph finished their latest bottle.
“Callicles shouldn’t drink so much,” said Jesus, Gavinal handing him another bottle.
“Aren’t you one to talk,” Joseph retorted.
“So, do you like the farm I sold you?” Gavinal asked, as Callicles, an arm lying on the marble floor, snored in the background.
“Very much, and with seven slaves we should have it working this year,” said Jesus, taking another drink.
“Yes, Callicles told me that you’re curing meat over there, the men at the garrison could use some, perhaps you could sell them a few sides.”
“We’ve taken and hung many. Marcus Tullius wrote that split sides, if salted and smoked constantly, cure in only two months or so,” said Jesus, again taking a seat.
“True,” Gavinal agreed, seating himself at the desk, “How much would you want?”
“I’ll give you and they a few sides to be neighborly,” Jesus answered, relaxing in a padded chair, “All I ask is that you give me your opinions of the quality, and next time I’ll sell you some.”
“You’re very kind, what meats have you in your larder?”
“Auroch, venison, and pork; the smokehouse is almost full, we could actually use the space.”
“How did you acquire so much?” Gavinal asked, looking to Jesus unsteadily, “Do you trap them?”
“No, we hunt them for sport with spears or knives, the land’s full of game,” Jesus lied, “My father and I are good with blades, he taught me to throw as a child in Volsinii.”
“My son can hit anything within fifty cubits,” said a boasting Joseph.
“Perhaps you could hunt on my property too,” Gavinal suggested, opening another bottle.
“Certainly,” Jesus replied, “I like to hunt at night when there’s more chance of surprise.”
The conversation continued for several hours, the prefect consuming another bottle of undiluted wine between latrine breaks. “We and our wives will have to get together one evening for dinner,” said a badly slurring Gavinal, walking from his personal lavatorium, Jesus finishing a fourth bottle.
“Perhaps later,” replied a drunken Joseph, “My wife is pregnant and has had sickness lately.”
“Oh yes, Callicles told me, that’s incredible,” said Gavinal slowly, drifting in and out of lucidity from consuming so much wine. “I have to turn in,” he added, looking in double vision at Jesus and his father, Callicles snoring on the couch, an arm on the marble floor.
“We'll let ourselves out,” said Jesus.
“Thanks,” the weary prefect replied, Jesus and father heading for the door. “Don’t forget Julius, you and yours are always welcome here,” he added, walking unsteadily to the atrium.
“And you are always welcome at our farm friend Gavinal,” said Jesus. Leaving the compound, Jesus nodded to the guard as he opened the gate. A few minutes later they walked past Callicles’ darkened caravansary, heading south of town.
“Gavinal sure was piped, along with that Callicles fellow,” said Joseph, arriving at the farm at four.
“Look who’s talking.”
“You’re drunk too.”
“Yeah, what can you do?”
Entering the house, Jesus noticed Mary Magdalene sitting at the kitchen table, annoyed at him being late. “Where have you been?” she asked, thinking he would have returned about midnight.
“You know, we were drinking wine at Gavinal’s,” said Jesus, sitting down.
“Why did I ask, have you had anyone to eat?”
“I’ve gone without before.”
“It seems wine can replace blood,” Joseph observed.
“For a time,” said Jesus, “As I’ve said, vampires do not live by blood alone.”
“That’s obvious,” a chuckling Joseph replied, heading for his bedroom.
“Have you eaten?” Jesus asked, opening a wine bottle and pouring a goblet.
“I took someone south of here while you were gone.”
“Was he a robber?”
“Who knows, he was there, so I killed him,” said Mary, looking him in the eyes.
“What if – ”
“I don’t care Jesus, you do. I look at them as lunch, and if you’re not around to stop me I’ll take just about anyone.”
“You will not harm our family or friends,” said Jesus, a stern look on his face.
“Are you stupid, I was talking about strangers,” Mary retorted, pouring herself a goblet.
“So, how are the slaves?” Jesus asked, knowing it was pointless to lecture her regarding suitable victims.
“I left them in their quarters, fed them vegetables and a side of smoked boar, and gave them a pail of water and cups.”
“Very good, did you see the young Jewess?”
“Yeah, she’s beautiful, what did you buy her for?” Mary asked, thinking she was a waste of money.
“I took pity on her, she’s a fourteen year old virgin and that amoral trader wanted to sell her to me as a whore.”
“So what, she’d make a good whore with her looks,” an equally amoral Mary observed, at least regarding whoredom and vampirism, taking a deep drink of wine.
“Prostitution is not a proper occupation for a Hebrew woman, nor any other woman for that matter,” said Jesus, finishing his goblet.
“I suppose being a slave is?” asked Mary, her moral outlook regarding slavery coming to the surface.
“That’s not my intention, I intend to employ her to tend to my mother’s needs and will give freedom to her later.”
“I thought I was supposed to care for her,” said Mary, folding hands on the table.
“You still can, she will help you.”
“Okay, but you have too much heart,” the Magdalene replied, realizing she would never understand her Jesus, the kind, just vampire. The sun rising, they moved to their dark room next to his parents’ bedroom and settled into sleep.
* * *
A hung over Joseph rose at ten and drank a bottle of wine for breakfast to kill the hangover; heading to the slave quarters near noon to inspect his newly purchased servants.
“My name is Jos – I mean Julius,” said Joseph, “I and my wife are the master and mistress of this farm, what are your names please?” Each answered in turn, Joseph noting their names on a piece of parchment. “Thank you, we shall treat you well. For the time being you may rest, my son Julius the younger will assign each of you later,” he replied, turning to leave.
“Can you unshackle us master?” a muscular slave named Ganymede asked with an imploring expression.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t the keys, my son has them and is in town at present,” lied Joseph, ogling the attractive Jewess, she noting his observations and looking to the floor, the rest of the group nodding as he turned and left. This is going to be better than I imagined, Joseph thought as he returned to the house.
At dusk, he walked to his son’s room and roused his son. “Jesus wake up, you have to unshackle the slaves,” said his father, shaking him in the bed.
“Unshackle them!” Jesus exclaimed, rising with a start, “They should have been released last night!”
“They’re sitting chained in their quarters, I told them you have the keys.”
“Give me the keys woman, why didn’t you unshackle the slaves?” asked Jesus, shaking her awake.
Clumsily reaching to the floor and handing him the keys, Mary murmured as she opened her eyes, “They’re all right sitting chained in their shed aren’t they?” Focusing, she added with a frown, “You may not realize it, but I don’t care about them, besides, they might have escaped and then you’d be yelling at me about that!”
“You should care, they’re our slaves,” said Jesus.
“They’re your slaves, not mine, I’ve never wanted to own anyone and never will, the thought is repulsive,” the Magdalene retorted, rolling over and hugging a pillow.
“Oh,” said Jesus, not having known of his consort’s negative feelings regarding slavery.
Leaving the bed, he dressed and headed to the slave quarters with his father.
“I got their names,” said Joseph, “The pretty Jewess is called Ruth.”
“After the prophetess,” Jesus replied, entering the austere slave quarters. “I’m very sorry, I didn’t realize my wife hadn’t unchained you,” he said while Joseph stood quietly, “My name’s Julius, eldest son of Julius the elder here.”
Each thanked Jesus he released them. “You may rest and settle in tonight, later I will assign you to your duties,” said Jesus, “That is with the exception of Ruth; you, young woman, will follow us to our home.” The Jewess nodded, rising to follow them.
Walking to the house, Joseph whispered, “What about the problem we discussed regarding you and the slaves?”