at the enforced imprisonment, and I had to let him out at night for exercise, though always with misgivings. During the day he would tell me stories of his native Hibernia, and I learnt of the astonishing adventures he had as a boy before Laertius found him in Alexandria. He told me too something of the strange beliefs of the new sect of Christians, whose «services» held secretly in crypts and cellars he had often attended. These were disturbing things indeed a religion that catered even for slaves! It cannot succeed, I am sure. In'all, as we were thrown so much together and his character seemed as fine and well formed as his person, I think I fell more than a bit in love with him; but there has never been much time in my life for love, and I feared that my whole scheme might go awry and my post in the household with it — if I to my affection for him.

―

gave rein

And so the day came when, with his scars healed, Nilo was in perfect physical condition again, and it was time for me to attempt the boldest part of my plan to get him reinstated in Laertius' favour. I chose one of those lovely still autumn days that we get in Rome, and waited till my master was sitting quietly alone on the terrace at the end of the day, at peace with the world or as much so as so dynamic, restless a man can ever be. I had spent many hours beforehand with the masseur oiling, pounding and kneading Nilo's muscles to restore to his healed skin that wonderful sheen my master liked. One of Nilo's friends among the slaves, who was now in the secret, went out wrestling with him every evening in a gymnasium in another part of the city (I did not trust them out during the day); the barber did his best with the unruly shock of red hair, which was really the better for being left unruly; and on the great day I myself dressed him in his tight-fitting white tunic and red belt. Actually in the course of the time since Nilo's disgrace we had changed the slaves' uniforms their torsos were now completely bare and the new uniform was nothing but a short kilt of gold brocade; but I had the idea that confronted suddenly by Nilo after so long, my master, who was a man of many concerns, might not remember who he was, and the old uniform would serve quicker than anything to remind him.

I was in a state of great agitation, because my disobedience would certainly recoil on my own head if all didn't go well; but I chose my moment, sent the boy in alone to Laertius and withdrew to watch through a convenient hole in the curtain. Nilo was indeed lovely, a masterpiece, the perfection of a radiantly healthy, athletic young Apollo. I was glad to see that he was not as nervous as I was, but bore himself proudly and with confidence, though with all the necessary deference and respect. He got right up to Laertius' couch before being seen, then knelt on one knee and began to recite the short speech I'd made him learn. His Latin was so bad I thought it essential to prime him in full with what I wanted him to say. Laertius, after a first start of amazement, said nothing, but I saw his eyes moving to and fro over the kneeling figure. In business circles his «poker face» was legendary, so I never expected his feelings to appear at all in his face, and they didn't.

•

All this while Nilo continued with his little oration, speaking the clipped, broken Latin I had come to know so well, but always in a low, musical tone. When he came to the end, my instructions to him were to raise his face and look Laertius straight between the eyes. He did so. I thought I had never seen anything so exciting as this flushed, handsome lad, poised forward on one knee,

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the very essence of submission and devotion, searching his master's stony face for the first sign of mercy. All was absolutely still in the room for nearly half a minute as Nilo held his blue eyes unwavering on his master's brown ones; but in the end it was Laertius who looked away first and I knew Nilo had won. I then saw something which made me rub my eyes, something I'd never seen before in all my years' service with Laertius, and never expected to see. Laertius told the boy to get up, and himself rising from the couch put his arm round Nilo's slim waist, straining the boy's hard, athletic young body close to his side, and talking to him all the while in urgent, vibrant tones, as they paced the room the together. My eye took pleasure in the contrasted colours of the scene green Assyrian carpet on which they walked, my master's Tyrian purple toga with its threads of silver wire, Nilo's glistening golden-brown legs and his muscular torso clearly outlined by the tight white singlet. From my point of concealment I couldn't catch all they said, but there was no denying the extraordinary tenderness and affection in Laertius' voice, the forgiveness offered (and dutifully received), and even the occasional most unexpected of all twinkle in his eye as they shared some joke together, which I couldn't hear but guessed to be at the expense of the old senator who had started it all. So much humanity and warmth I had never conceived to exist in Laertius at all; but he seemed now in a moment to have bridged that unbridgeable gap between master and slave, and to be treating Nilo like a son the erring boy that it is a father's special delight to forgive after punishment and love again. How long would it last, I wondered. I had not recovered from my amazement when, still talking, they passed together out of my sight into an inner room.

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In MAN IS A SEXUAL BEING, Author Wallace de Ortega Maxey challenges the validity of 20th Century morals and ethics. He holds that cultural conformity is turning mankind into mere automa. tons. He stresses the psychological fact that all men and women are sexual deviates when judged.

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