Free Jars of Clay by Lee Strauss Page A

if only Lucius was the son of a Senator or a wealthy merchant, then her father would possibly allow a coupling.
    But as it stood, there was no possible way she and Lucius could ever act on their feelings.
    She had to be stern if they were to continue Lucius’s studies. He was the student, and she was the teacher. Nothing more. This was the message she had communicated by her behavior and her words. She cringed when she recalled how she’d blurted out that it wasn’t a crime for her to teach a servant and the hurt that had flashed across his face. She couldn’t blame him for being standoffish.
    Helena arrived at Brutus’s office door and hesitated. It was not uncommon for her father to summon her to greet his guests, and for him to boast of his offspring, so she remained blissfully unaware of his intentions. Until, like a thread twisting around her finger, the truth dawned unpleasantly, first with a pinch then a burn.
    “My dear Helena, please come.” Brutus met her at the doorway of his office and with wide strides guided her toward the man lounging near a table well-supplied with food and drink.
    Helena entered and nodded toward the visitor.
    “May I introduce to you to Vincentius Ignatius.”
    “Hello,” she said, politely before averting her eyes.
    “H-how do y-you do?” he said. His small white face shone with sweat, and Helena felt he should spend more time in the sun.
    “Fine, thank you.”
    “Please come and join us, Helena. Vincentius has just returned from Greece. He’s a writer.” Brutus said this in a manner that seemed to say, which explains certain things about him.
    “I see,” she said. There descended an uncomfortable silence that Helena felt compelled to break. “So, um, what do you write, sir?”
    “Oh, v-v-various things,” Vincentius said, blinking bulbous eyes rapidly and scrubbing his thin, dry lips with his tongue. “Dialogues, l-letters, stories.”
    “He also writes speeches for the Senate and has even been called upon in the past to write for the Emperor,” Brutus boasted.
    “Really?”
    “W-well, once.” Vincentius paused to blink and lick. He reminded Helena of a reptile. “F-for his aid, actually.”
    Yes, a lizard. Vincentius also had the unfortunate trait of loose, scaly skin. Perhaps he originated from Britannia. However, she cared not about his origins. She suddenly desperately desired to find Lucius and resume their studies.
    “Well, Father, Vincentius, if you will excuse me.”
    “Helena, dear, there is no hurry. We are pleased by your company.”
    “But, my studies…”
    “They can wait. Surely you are educated enough for a woman.”
    For a woman? Under other circumstances she would have blundered into a debate about the value of education for women but he had always called her a girl, his little girl, never a woman before.
    Her eyes darted back to the little man lounging before her. He smiled a dry, thin-lipped smile, and she snapped her head away.
    “Father…”
    “Dear, have I mentioned Vincentius originates from Gaul, from a very well-to-do family of noble descent?”
    “Is that so,” she said stiffly.
    “S-s-so, I hear you like to read?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s g-great. I love to read also. I admire a woman who can r-read and understand the fine literary w-works of Rome.”
    “I have never read you.”
    “Helena.” Her father spoke softly, but his eyes warned her to watch herself. She must not embarrass him in front of a guest. “We will rectify that at once.”
    “Yes, Father. May I leave now?”
    “If you wish.”
    “Good day, sir,” she said to Vincentius.
    “Good day.”
    Brutus walked with her to the atrium .
    “Father, you don’t mean…”
    “He is a good man of means. And he’s promised to take up residence here in Carthage.”
    “But I don’t love him. I don’t even like him! He’s… unpleasant.”
    “You will learn to love him, even like him. Helena, he will take care of you.”
    “You take care of me,