Day 6, Monday

DAY OF LUNA/SELENE

ANTHIA WAS DREAMING. She and Dorema were outside the city, picking mushrooms, berries, and nuts wherever they could find them among the trees and other vegetation. Their children were running, playing, and laughing. Dorema was holding up a beautiful red berry. But when she placed it on her tongue the berry exploded, and a dark red liquid started dripping out of her mouth and onto her tunic. It moved down her body and covered her pelvis, soaking through the rough fabric. The fabric then began to expand, and soon Anthia could see the shape of her friend’s pregnant belly underneath it. Dorema watched wordlessly, her eyes wide in horror. She reached out a hand to Anthia, her eyes pleading for help. Anthia tried to touch her, but she couldn’t move. Suddenly, she was standing over the simple tombstone that marked Dorema’s final resting place. And then someone was screaming.

Anthia awoke with a start, a scream on her lips. Her eyes fell on Nikias, who was sitting next to the leftovers from last night—or what now remained of them. He smiled broadly at her, his mouth full of food. She took a quick breath and returned his smile, grateful for the food that he was now eating. She glanced down at her husband, then around the room to where everyone else lay, but they were all still sleeping. She had no idea when Philetus had returned last night, because she had actually slept. Deeply, restfully. Until that dream. I didn’t even wake up to use the chamber pot. The realization was forceful, and her shock caused her to ponder why she had slept so well this late in her pregnancy. She had felt so . . . she searched for the right word. Peaceful . . . but now I need the chamber pot.

As she stood to collect it Nikias realized what she was doing and gestured wildly, indicating his need to go first. Amused, she allowed him to do so, and as she waited she thought she heard someone say “Jesus” through the thin wall that separated their room from Eutaxia’s home next door. She focused, listening closely. Yes, there it is again. As she stood she noted with relief that there was no blood on her clothing or in the chamber pot. She placed her hand on her belly and recalled the prayers of the women at the gathering of the Way yesterday, and suddenly she felt a powerful kick. Hello, my son! She answered, smiling in wonder. Could it be? Did this Jesus heal me?

She walked over to Nikias and picked up a piece of sausage for herself, then gestured to Nikias to accompany her. The two of them walked quickly next door.

Just as she was about to knock, the door opened and Lampo’s cousin Perilaus and his family rushed out. Anthia offered a hurried greeting and stepped through the doorway. Eutaxia looked up, worry written on her face. Lampo was there as well, though he was clearly getting ready to leave. Euxinus squealed with delight upon seeing Nikias, who rushed to show his cousin his new wooden horse.

“What is it?” Anthia half whispered. “Not Euxinus?”

“Oh no, he’s fine.” Lampo smiled tightly. “Did you hear about what happened yesterday afternoon, just before sunset? With the Jews who were trying to cast out dark spirits from those who are possessed?”

Anthia shook her head, knowing why she had missed the news.

“Some sons of a Jewish priest were using the name of Jesus as they attempted to cast out spirits. You can understand their logic in a way; the name of Jesus has clearly proven to be powerful, and they wanted to harness that power for themselves. Apparently, instead of asking the spirit’s name, they commanded the spirit to come out ‘in the name of the Jesus whom Paul preaches.’ ” Lampo paused, shaking his head, and Anthia couldn’t help but flinch. Lampo looked at her and laughed sharply. “Yes, exactly. It didn’t go well. The spirit answered by asking their names instead of the other way around. How ironic. His question was, ‘Jesus I know, and Paul too, but who are you?’” Lampo laughed again, this time with more enjoyment. “Then the man with the spirit jumped on the brothers, overpowered them, and beat them until they were bleeding. Oh, and he tore their clothes off, so they ran out of the house naked. So . . . you could say that they were cast out by the spirit.”

Astonished, Anthia didn’t respond immediately. “I don’t know what to say,” was all she could muster even after a moment.

“Yes. I know. Those watching it near the agora quickly told everyone they saw, and by now I’m guessing the entire city knows. People are afraid. They realize the power of the name of Jesus, that they can’t use it for their own ends. Jesus seems to demand a different kind of honor. I don’t fully understand it, because what those Jews did makes sense. Of course if you’re an exorcist you use whatever words and names you know that have power, especially a power higher than the spirit that you’re trying to control. That’s how magical formulas work. The gods expect us to do that . . . don’t they? But then . . . they were attempting to act as representatives of Jesus by using his name, and perhaps Jesus didn’t like that because if they don’t worship him they can’t be his representatives.” He studied her face. “What do you think?”

Anthia glanced at Eutaxia, who looked as if she had already had this conversation. She probably has, Anthia realized. They’ve probably been talking about this since last night.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. She really didn’t. Of course, Ephesus was a center for magic. Their “Ephesian Writings”—magical incantations or terms that were inscribed on Artemis’s statue and that people could speak or have written on amulets, rings, or bracelets—were famous throughout the world.

They sat in silence until once again Lampo broke it. “And now . . . something’s brewing near the agora.”

“What is it?”

“Perilaus was out late last night with his association of fish salters—they meet in a shop near the slave market—and he heard some of them talking about a burning of sorcery scrolls today. Then later that evening they were at a tavern nearby and heard even more rumors from the silversmiths who make statues of Artemis. No one’s very happy.”

The memory of Epaenetus’s declaration last night at the gathering of the Way flooded Anthia’s mind. The reason for their unhappiness was clear. This is a public challenge to—a public shaming of—the powers . . . magic . . . the gods. Can this end well for the rest of us? “Who’s burning them?” Anthia asked simply.

“Some members of the Way, the ones who have given their allegiance to Jesus.” Lampo shook his head. “Sorcery scrolls are very valuable. Though . . .” he hesitated. “The power of Jesus healed my son. My line will continue because of that. But why must it be as these followers of Jesus insist? Why does Jesus demand complete loyalty? Can’t he share his followers with other lords and gods and powers? Why must we choose between him and the rest? I’m going to the agora. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I need to see it. Perilaus has already been there and back this morning, and he confirmed that the crowd is growing.”

Just then Philetus stuck his head through the open doorway. “I’m going fishing. Lampo, let’s walk to the agora together.” Anthia could see her father standing behind her husband, who then stepped outside and walked down the stairs with Lampo. The others in the room were busy eating or using the chamber pot.

Anthia knew that she had food to prepare if they hoped to have a second meal later on in the day. She thought of the small bag of flour next door and estimated how much time she would need to make bread or porridge with it. She also needed to empty the chamber pot and collect water from the fountain. She glanced at Eutaxia, whose expression was clear. Her friend stood and handed her a cup of water.

“Let’s go,” Eutaxia declared, grabbing Euxinus’s hand.

As the women walked, Eutaxia peppered Anthia with questions about the previous day. “So you found a way to visit the gathering. How did you do that? And how was it? What happened? How do they honor and worship Jesus? What kind of people were there? Was there anyone of high status? Any Roman citizens?”

Anthia responded with careful answers, answering only in vague generalities.

Eutaxia was clearly unhappy. “But . . . did you recognize anyone? And what did they talk about? Who sat next to you during dinner?”

Anthia saw the crowd up ahead. “I’ll tell you more, I promise. But it needs to wait until after this.” She pointed, and even Eutaxia gaped at the massive crowd that had gathered. Some gawkers were sitting on animals and standing on stools, tables, and roofs in the attempt to get a better view. Anthia could sense the fear among those watching. It’s almost palpable. Those watching were strangely silent, and the reason became clear as they neared the edge.

Figure 6.1. A street in Ephesus

The people with scrolls up front are talking, Anthia realized. “I need to see,” she told Eutaxia, who nodded her agreement. They skirted the edge of the group and walked along the far side until they were near the front. Anthia watched for a gap between bodies, and when she found it, she darted in. Eutaxia followed, and they managed to squeeze between a surprisingly tall man with curly black hair and a short, round man wearing a bright white toga. Anthia searched the faces of those holding scrolls. She recognized Epaenetus quickly. Several of the other faces were also familiar from last night.

“ . . . and I confess that I used to practice magic,” a young woman was saying. Her skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. Anthia noted that she did not have any scrolls in front of her. “I visited Epaenetus, a magician.” She pointed to the man Anthia had met last night; he was standing in front of a large pile of scrolls. “The magic I practiced involved the power of many gods and goddesses, among them Artemis.” She paused. “I hereby revoke my allegiance to Artemis and the others. My allegiance is now with Jesus.”

The crowd gasped audibly, but their reaction was cut short by the next person in line, a man with skin the color of charcoal and short white hair. He wore a finely colored tunic, decorated leather sandals, and ornate bracelets on his arms. He held up two scrolls, one in each hand, and stood in front of a large pile of scrolls. “Magic has been my life. But now I divulge my most powerful spell.” He set down one scroll, then unrolled the other. His eyes searched the leather before finally resting near the middle. Then he read the spell slowly, clearly, enunciating every word.

The crowd was silent, weighing what they were witnessing. They all knew that the most powerful spells were kept secret, because making them public would strip them of their power. Anthia saw a motion out of the corner of her eye, and when she turned she saw Claudia standing with her son on her hip. Claudia was wiping tears from her cheeks, watching the man up front.

“The greatest power is Jesus. No other power or god is equal to him,” the man stated calmly. He then pointed to Claudia before adding, “And my family now honors Jesus alone. With our lives.”

The woman after him cradled a large pregnant belly in her thin arms. Her hair reminded Anthia of Phoebe’s, as even a headband and pins could not contain it as its curls swirled in the breeze. Her olive skin and dark eyes searched the crowd, and then she turned to face the man on her other side, who spoke. Anthia noted absently that he was shorter than her but built stoutly. He looks strong.

“My name is Epaphroditus, and this is Vettia. This is Vettia’s fourth pregnancy. None of my sons lived to their naming day, even though we petitioned Artemis for protection and strength and wore amulets inscribed with the magical words of the Ephesian Writings that are also engraved on her statue.” He held up two necklaces for the crowd to see, then tossed them unceremoniously on the pile of scrolls near him. “No longer. Now we petition Jesus. He is the true protector.”

Anthia felt as if she’d been pierced. She groped for Eutaxia’s hand, arm, anything—feeling as if she might faint. Eutaxia responded quickly, supporting her with an arm around the waist. Anthia breathed deeply, controlling each breath while her heart pounded.

Epaenetus stepped forward next, his scrolls in a leather bag over his shoulder. He removed them one by one while he talked, naming the gods in each, along with their powers. Healing. Cursing. The ability to manipulate both spiritual and human forces. After he finished with each scroll, he tossed it onto the ground without care, and each toss extracted gasps of shock from those watching. “I confess that I have created and sold concoctions whose sole purpose was to inflict pain on others,” he added. “I have exploited many, and greed for power and money has ruled my life. No more. Jesus is the lord of the world, and his demands require a total life change. Repentance. I must live differently, in ways that show who my lord is.”

Epaenetus was the last in the line up front, and when he finished speaking he stooped to open a small clay pot at his feet. Using two small sticks, he scooped up a piece of coal that burned a reddish-orange and dropped it on top of the pile of scrolls. Then another. Then another. Others in the line moved as one, carrying their items to the now-burning pile, watching as it grew bigger, the flames reaching higher and higher.

At first Anthia tried to count the scrolls, but she lost track as more and more were added to the blaze. She had of course heard of book burnings; stories of them were famous across the empire. But this was the first time she was witnessing one, and she found the scene overwhelming.

“So much money,” Eutaxia whispered in her ear. “Why accept such a loss, when instead they could have sold the scrolls?”

Anthia looked at the crowd, which continued to grow. Is the whole city here? It looks like it. Some of the faces looked shocked, while others appeared angry or worried. She spotted Lampo standing near several other men; the conversation was quite animated. As she watched, one of the men turned so she could see his profile. Paul! He was gesturing passionately, and Anthia wondered whether he was repeating some of what he had said last night.

“Mama.” Nikias’s voice was accompanied by a tug on her arm. She realized that she had been holding tightly to his hand, and he was bored and ready to be done.

“Let’s go,” she whispered to him, needing some space herself. She touched Eutaxia’s shoulder, and the four of them started to wiggle their way through the throng.

As they emerged from the crowd Nikias shook his hand free of hers and darted over to a wall. He started urinating, and Anthia scolded him. “Nikias! Wait. There is a latrine just around the corner.”

“No, Mama! Here!” He said, pointing to a pot. Eutaxia laughed and gently pushed Euxinus in the same direction. “That’s one of daddy’s urine pots. Please, fill it up.” The boys shared the pot, enjoying the intersection of their streams of urine.

“I need the latrine.” Anthia’s comment was answered quickly by her friend.

“Of course you do. Go ahead; I’ll watch the boys for a moment.”

Anthia entered the dim space and surveyed her options. At least it’s not that stinky, she told herself. Dirty water from the public bath next door was used to rinse out the space under the toilet seats. There were a couple of men sitting in one corner who were talking while they were doing their business, and when one of them reached for the cleansing stick Anthia decided that she would sit on the opposite end. An elderly woman was near her, rinsing her hands at the basin. Two young girls, whose fine clothing communicated the wealth of their families, walked in giggling.

Anthia carefully checked for blood. None. She sat back in relief, one hand on her belly, and the baby inside her started moving. She could see the ripples of what appeared to be knees and elbows even through the fabric of her tunic. Yes, baby. Move. When finished, she stood, adjusted her clothing, and rinsed her hands.

Outside, Eutaxia was watching the boys play with a couple of sticks they had found. Several other young children, a few of them naked, had joined them. Anthia stood next Eutaxia, smiling at their raucous play.

Anthia looked again at Euxinus’s little tunic, then noted her son’s naked body. “Have any more of your customers indicated that they are finished with clothing, or even smaller pieces of material?” The women had been planning for a while to outfit Nikias, but they hadn’t found enough to make a full tunic.

“No,” Eutaxia admitted. “But I heard yesterday that there is a new shop across the city that sells used clothing as well as material. Perhaps if Philetus makes another good catch today we could visit the shop later this afternoon or tomorrow morning?”

“I doubt it. Even if there are many fish, Philetus will not want to spend any of the money on clothing for Nikias. He is proud of his son’s strong body—including the size of his genitalia—and he thinks that there is no reason to cover it up at this age.”

Eutaxia nodded. They’d had this conversation before.

“There you are!” A woman’s voice rang out behind them. Before she could even turn, Anthia was enveloped in a hug.

“Claudia!” she finally managed, noting Eutaxia’s suspicious face. Claudia was dressed as she had been last night—in a beautifully decorated stola, this one a deep blue, and fine leather sandals. Her earrings tinkled as she moved, and her fingers were covered with gold and silver rings, some with gemstones.

“I . . . ” she began, her mind scrambling as she tried to decide how to explain to Eutaxia. Thankfully, Claudia took over.

“Anthia and I met last night. I am Claudia, and am grateful to know you as well. This is my son, Strategos, and behind me are Severa and Plancia.”

“Ahh . . . last night. I see. I’m Eutaxia.” Eutaxia smiled, and it seemed genuine.

Well, at least this satisfies some of her curiosity, Anthia acknowledged. She recognized the two young women behind Claudia as well, since they had been at the gathering of the Way. They were both wearing simple brown tunics, though the material looked new and was clean. One of them carried a baby on her back. They must be her slaves, she realized suddenly. She just introduced her slaves to us.

“Where is Nikias?”

“There, Mama!” Strategos shouted, and he darted off to join the cadre of children. Claudia turned and nodded at one of the slaves behind her, who walked and stood next to the children.

“We are just heading home now. It will soon be time for the midday meal.” She paused. “Please, join us. We’d love to host you as well, Eutaxia.”

Eutaxia stared, clearly stunned. Anthia felt a laugh bubbling up from inside but worked hard to stifle it. Now is not the time, she told herself. Don’t laugh. Eutaxia is just surprised; she’s never been invited to share a meal with someone of Claudia’s status before. Then, as realization set in, she worried, I hope I didn’t look this confused last night.

As if catching herself, Claudia suddenly changed tacks. “Or, if you need to be in the agora, perhaps we could bring food to you. Or . . .”

Eutaxia finally regained her composure. “Would it be all right if we stopped by a bit later? I need to finish some work, but we would love to come after that.”

Anthia noted Eutaxia’s omission of the location of her work, since she did the mending at home. She’s curious, she realized. She wants to see Claudia’s home, eat her food, and get a glimpse of upper-class life.

Clearly thrilled, Claudia smiled widely. “Yes, of course. That sounds wonderful. I’ll leave Severa outside to wait for you. That way you’ll know which apartment is ours.” She called to the slave near the children, who then commanded her young son to come, and the group departed.

Anthia and Eutaxia watched them go. Anthia waited for her friend to speak.

“Her slaves have better tunics than we do. But she’s kind. She’s clearly trying to include us in her social circle, though I don’t understand why. But I’m curious, so I want to go. I may never see inside one of those terrace homes again.” She walked toward the children, and Anthia trailed after her.

The women walked up the stairs carefully, balancing their water pots with care. Their young sons carried small water jugs as well. Everyone who was physically able to do so, even the very young, helped. They had already made the trek upstairs once because they needed to fetch containers for water. Then they visited the fountain to fill them.

Anthia entered their one-room home slowly, balancing her water pot on top of her belly. Her aunt walked over to help her, and Anthia saw her father lying on his mat behind her.

“Could you ask Eutaxia if she has a bit of yeast or sour juice that we could use?” Anthia said, and her aunt nodded and quietly walked next door, while Nikias set his water container on the ground and then peered over at his grandfather’s still form.

“Grandpa?” Nikias’s question went unanswered, and he found entertainment instead in his new wooden horse. Anthia busied herself with preparing the bread dough, and when Eirene returned Anthia worked quietly, wondering how to broach the topic with her aunt.

“If Philetus returns to rest, will you tell him that we will have bread for dinner?” The unspoken part of the sentence hung between the women. And if he hasn’t caught anything, bread will be all there is. One small loaf for the five of us. And possibly for Andrew and Penelope and their sons if they haven’t been able to procure other food today. Her aunt nodded, understanding clear in her eyes. “Tell him I will meet him in the agora at our fish stall. Eutaxia has asked me to accompany her now to the house of a woman who needs to have some clothes mended,” she lied, hoping that her aunt wouldn’t ask for any more details. Just then, her father groaned and rolled over. He clutched his stomach, and they could all hear what happened next.

He’s soiling himself again. Eirene rushed to his side, kneeling so that she could stroke his head while she murmured words of comfort. She knew there was no point in asking him to use the chamber pot. He did so when he was able. They all knew that her father wasn’t sick, at least not specifically so. He was just old. Anthia’s mother had been his third wife, as the first had died in childbirth and the second from a fever. He had been fifty-three when he married Anthia’s mother, who was fifteen. Suddenly his eyes opened, and Anthia could see the tears on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, daughter. So sorry.”

Her heart breaking, she rushed to him and touched his face. “It’s all right, Father. And Nikias and I just carried up some fresh water.” She turned to her aunt. “Can you help me undress him? And then you can clean him up, and Nikias and I will find a way to clean his tunic.” She knew that he would lie there naked until she returned, but there was nothing she could do about that. They carefully pulled the garment over his head, exposing his thin, frail body. She bundled the tunic into a ball and asked for Nikias to bring her a piece of string. She took his hand and nodded to her aunt, then walked next door.

Eutaxia was mending furiously. When Anthia knocked lightly and walked in, she barely looked up from her work.

“I have so much mending to do. I’m trying to finish a few pieces so that I can save the time I need to visit Claudia. This one is almost done.” She was working on a heavy woolen cloak. Euxinus sat next to his mother on the floor, legs crossed, needle and thread in hand. Anthia didn’t ask about Perilaus and Sophia; she knew they were working with their children in the fish salting factory.

“What are you mending, Euxinus?” His mother was training him and gave him only the pieces that he could handle with his small hands and developing ability.

“This.” He proudly demonstrated his work, holding up a small linen tunic with a tear the size of his pinky finger.

“Done!” Eutaxia announced, setting down the cloak and her needle.

They walked down the stairs silently, waiting until they were out of range of any listening ears. As they neared the bottom Eutaxia opened her mouth to speak, but stopped suddenly when she stepped into the sun. “What is it?” asked Anthia, halting behind her. Eutaxia didn’t speak; she merely moved aside. Her finger pointed into the cesspit for the insula, where tenants dumped their chamber pots and other refuse.

A baby. Anthia looked at the naked child, who lay squirming in the muck. “Did someone just leave her here, or did we miss her on our way up?”

“I think someone just exposed her; I wouldn’t have missed that before.” Eutaxia squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. “Look at the afterbirth. She was just born.” The baby started to cry, and the soft newborn wail competed with the sounds of people and animals at work all around them. Eutaxia started to walk away, and Anthia followed her. This was a fact of life, after all. Babies were another mouth to feed. And the child was a girl, not a boy, though she looked healthy. Anthia turned for one last look and saw a man in a toga reaching into the pit to retrieve the child. He turned and handed the child to a slave standing behind him. Anthia knew what she was witnessing. He would raise the baby until she was old enough to sell. I wonder what Priscilla and Paul would think about that, since Jews keep and raise all their children. The thought came to her unbidden, and she pushed it away. It doesn’t matter.

“What’s that?” Eutaxia gestured to the bundled tunic in Nikias’s hands.

“My father had another accident.” She smiled bravely. “Do you think it’s possible that Lampo might be able to clean it? We could set aside a fish from the next large catch for your family.”

“Hmm . . .” Eutaxia considered the request. “It depends on how busy they are today. They have a couple of new fullering contracts that they need to manage.”

“If I could find a place to rinse it first, would that help?”

“Yes. He could probably add it to another customer’s clothing if you could rinse it off a little bit first.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, as she began a mental list of possible options for where she could rinse the garment. The fountains were out; people used that water for drinking and cooking. Perhaps she could walk down to the harbor and find a space on the shore? There were also some streams outside the city; that would be an option, though it could take a lot of time to get there and back. Maybe after lunch I can head to the harbor, and then go to the agora. Hmm . . . I should go to the agora first. What if Philetus is waiting? He’ll be angry if I make him wait very long. But for Lampo to have time to clean it, I need to get it to him before I go to sell fish . . .

She was so lost in thought that she was startled when Eutaxia grabbed her arm. “There!” She was pointing to one of the slaves they had met this morning. The young woman Severa was looking at them and smiling. They walked up to her, and she ushered them inside.

As they walked through a high, arched doorway into the first room, Anthia tried not to stare. She had never been in a domestic space that was so beautiful, or so large. The walls were covered with images of the gods, and the floor in the receiving room featured a forest scene. She saw slaves tutoring a couple of young boys next to a fountain in a side room, and several others were spinning and weaving in the next—a space with vaulted ceilings and images of philosophers on the walls. Claudia came rushing down from a staircase, exclaiming her welcome. A man Anthia quickly recognized from the scroll burning that morning descended more slowly behind her, along with another younger man who looked a great deal like Claudia’s young son. Her father-in-law and husband? she guessed.

“Welcome, welcome!” the older man exclaimed. He held a small dog in his hands that looked to be quite clean, well groomed, and well fed.

They clearly have plenty to eat in this house. Even the dog looks robust. Once glance at Eutaxia confirmed that her friend was thinking the same thing.

“I am Hermogenes. This is my son Megakles. We have already eaten and have some business to attend to.” The greeting was brief, but a deep smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. Megakles echoed the greeting, then the two of them left.

“Please, come,” Claudia said, ushering the women into a dining room where a long, low table was covered with platters of food. Eutaxia inhaled sharply, and when Claudia turned, a look of concern on her face, she appeared to realize the reason. “I didn’t know what you liked,” she said quietly. “I hope you’ll find something that pleases you. Plancia?” The young woman appeared a few seconds later. “Please fetch the children.”

Claudia bent and pushed a low bench away from the table, then sat next to it with her legs crossed. Anthia suspected that Claudia, like most of the elite, often reclined while dining, and she wondered whether Claudia was sitting instead because of her awareness that Anthia and Eutaxia always ate in that posture. After they were seated one of the slaves bent to pick up a tray of food, and immediately Claudia leapt to her feet to help. Eutaxia shot Anthia a confused look, and Anthia smiled and mouthed “Later.” It would take a while to describe to Eutaxia why slaves and free in the Way ate together and served each other.

The Terrace Houses

In the first century some elite families in Ephesus lived in what are now known as the terrace houses, a city block of private residences built on a fairly steep slope (hence the name “terrace”) in the prime area near the main market. Each of the residences stood three stories high and was composed of multiple rooms for receiving guests, dining, and sleeping. At least one open courtyard (for light and air) often dominated the central space, and most included indoor fountains as well as kitchens and bathrooms with plumbing facilitated through deep wells and pipes fed by aqueducts. Such pipes also were placed under the floors and behind walls as heating systems.

Figure 6.2. The exterior of part of the famous Ephesian terrace houses, a city block of private residences built on a steep slope in the prime area near the main market

The homes were richly appointed with colonnades, vaulted ceilings, and tiled floors set in patterns of plants, animals, and mythological characters. The walls—often from floor to ceiling—were decorated with marble, painted frescoes, and glass mosaics with similar themes as on the floors. One of the units boasts paintings of naked male and female slaves offering items such as garlands or fish in postures of (sexualized) welcome. Furnishings included inbuilt stoves, benches, altars, pools, and storage spaces, and in Terrace House 2 archaeologists have also discovered sculptures of stone, bronze, and ivory; jewelry; cooking and dining items; and tools.

Figure 6.3. Inside one of the Ephesian terrace houses. Each was at least three stories high

After serving, Claudia insisted that Severa and Plancia eat with them, and the women assented.

Anthia looked at her plate, which was full of cheese, dates, olives, lamb, and soft bread. She pulled off another piece of the bread and dipped it into the small bowl of olive oil on the table, sighing in contentment. She took another sip of the wine in her cup—her own cup! Though it was mixed with water, Anthia could taste its richness. She wondered momentarily whether there was a way that she could sneak a few dates and a bit of cheese for her father and aunt. They could really use the nourishment, especially her father. Anthia couldn’t remember the last time their family had had access to cheese. She glanced at the platter of fruit sitting on the table and celebrated the dessert that was still to come. I think I’ll have a pomegranate, she decided.

Eutaxia and Claudia were talking about their families, including the many extended relatives that each had in the area. Unsurprisingly, their circles didn’t overlap. Most of Claudia’s family were Roman citizens and in every way wealthy and elite. They then began to discuss the fullery business where Lampo worked, along with the mending that Eutaxia did. “Euxinus is getting quite good,” Eutaxia boasted.

“We need some mending done from time to time,” Claudia offered. “Would you be able to take on any more work?” Eutaxia answered in the affirmative, and the women discussed the location of the fullery while Anthia wondered inwardly at this offer.

Doesn’t she have slaves to do the mending? Why would she need to hire that out? Or is she trying to be helpful to Eutaxia?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a direct question from Claudia. “Anthia, I noticed that Nikias was carrying a small bundle of clothing when he arrived. Is that his tunic?”

“Um . . .” Anthia hesitated, wondering how to answer. “No,” she finally said. “It’s my father’s. He soiled his tunic this morning. When we leave here Nikias and I will find a place to rinse it, and then hopefully Eutaxia’s husband will be able to launder it for us.”

“You can do that here. I insist. We have water pumped in through the aqueduct, as well as drains to carry dirty water away to the sewers. And large basins in the back courtyard! Plancia could do it for you if you like.”

“Oh no, thank you. I can do it myself.”

“Yes, of course.” Claudia’s eyes moved between Anthia and Plancia, and Anthia felt a bit sorry for both women.

So many of Claudia’s natural ways of doing things, how she’s been raised, how she’s lived her whole life, she’s now trying to change. Of course her impulse would be to offer her slave to work for me . . .

“I will show you the basins,” Claudia declared, standing abruptly. Anthia and Plancia followed, and Claudia left them alone in the courtyard, saying that she would be back shortly.

“I’ll help you,” Plancia asserted. As soon as enough water had filled the small basin, Anthia plunged the garment in.

“It’s warm,” she said aloud.

“Yes.” Plancia answered simply.

Anthia took a deep breath, then asked her question. “How long have you been here, in this house?”

“I was born here. My mother and father were also owned by the family, and Severa is my sister.” She paused, anticipating Anthia’s unasked question. “Even before Hermogenes became interested in the Way, he was just and kind. He did not mistreat us in any way; we were never beaten or our bodies used for his sexual pleasure. But now it is even better, though it is . . . confusing.” She laughed softly. “Learning to eat together is messy.”

Claudia returned then, carrying something made of cloth in her hands. “Here,” she said, holding it up and shaking it out. “Strategos has been growing so quickly; this is now too small. Please,” she said, thrusting it into Anthia’s hands. “For Nikias. Take it.”

The expense of the gift caught Anthia off-guard. “No, I cannot.” She handed it back.

Patronage

Patronage was a central social and economic system in the ancient Mediterranean world. Patrons were wealthier, higher-status people who sought clients in need of protection and/or financial support. Clients then owed their patrons and responded to this debt by performing services to affirm and increase the patron’s honor in public spaces.

Patronage was needed because there was almost no social safety net in the ancient world, and access to loans was limited for much of the population. It also served to reinforce the stratification of the population, keeping clients in a perpetually lower status level. Because the most honorable patrons supported the largest number of clients, the competition for clients could be intense. Such competition also explains why the acceptance of patronage came with a cost for clients, but the refusal of patronage also came with a cost, as refusal was seen to be shameful to the patron.

“Yes, please.”

“My husband will not like it,” Anthia admitted, and this revelation caused Claudia to take a step back and think.

“Will he see this as an act of patronage?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Then can you tell him that I have hired Eutaxia to do my mending, and I instructed her to get rid of this old tunic, after which she offered it to you?”

Anthia looked at her suspiciously, then eyed the tunic. It was made of finely woven wool and was dyed a dark gray.

“It is true. I will tell her to get rid of this old tunic.” Claudia smiled. “I’ll tell her now.” And she turned and left, the skirt of her blue stola swirling behind her.

“She always has a plan, doesn’t she?” Anthia offered.

Plancia laughed loudly in agreement, shaking her head. “I was raised with her. In many ways we have always been like sisters, though of course it was my task to take care of her.”

Eutaxia appeared a few moments later, smiling knowingly. The tunic was in her hands. “Well, this old thing needs to be dumped in our cesspit, now doesn’t it? Unless we could find another use for it . . .” She tossed it to Anthia. “We need to go now if we want to have time to stop by the fullery before the fish stall.” Anthia nodded, and just then Claudia returned, carrying a small cloth bag.

“Here. For your father’s wet tunic.” Behind her Strategos walked slowly toward the group, his small arms encased around a leather bag that was stuffed full. She gestured to him, then added, “He insisted. He wants his new friends to take the leftovers from lunch.”

Tears sprang to Anthia’s eyes. It’s an answer to prayer . . . and I didn’t even pray for it. She let Eutaxia lead the way, and as she trailed behind her friend, Claudia placed her arm around Anthia’s waist and hugged her again—another one of her generous, enveloping hugs—and then moved to do the same to Eutaxia, who was clearly startled by it.

Outside, the women walked silently. Anthia handed the cloth bag to Nikias, who accepted it proudly, and Eutaxia silently removed the bag of food from Anthia’s hands and adjusted it in front of her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Eutaxia asked suddenly. “There’s something off there. Why would she eat with us and share food with us? And give us clothing and . . . ? Doesn’t she have friends who share her status? And her family? Is she bored? Does she have too much time on her hands?”

Anthia cast an exasperated look at her friend. “Eutaxia, stop it! You know it’s more than that. I agree that it’s overwhelming, but be honorable.” To her credit, Eutaxia took the critique well, nodding in response. They walked through their normal gate into the agora and headed into the center of the massive space, weaving between the various people, animals, and portable stalls that were arranged without any apparent order. Most of the ground was dry, packed dirt, though a few patches of green appeared here and there. As they walked, Anthia could hear snatches of the conversations they passed. It seemed as if everyone was discussing the scroll burning.

Anthia walked around a young woman who was carrying infant twins in the sling across her back. The skin of the babies was almost as dark as their short black hair, while the woman’s skin was a light olive. Anthia recognized her from the slave market. She’s the wet nurse! The woman’s face was blank, and Anthia mourned silently with her. She mourns her baby. Her son is gone.

They neared the fullery, and Lampo was clearly visible inside. Sulpicia was again working near the counter, and she spotted them from a distance, calling their names over the din of the market noise. The mention of his wife’s name caused Lampo to stop hanging wet garments up to dry, and he met them outside the space. His eyes searched for his son, and when they found him behind Eutaxia, apparently in good health, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Anthia’s father had an . . . episode this morning. His tunic is soiled. It’s been rinsed, but perhaps you could launder it?”

Lampo turned to Anthia, who added the promise of a fish from her husband’s next big catch. Even if it means that we go hungry that night, she told herself silently.

“Yes, fine,” Lampo stated. “Where is it?” Anthia took the bag from Nikias and held it out in front of Lampo, who accepted it hesitantly. “Where did you get this bag? Looks expensive.”

“From a friend,” Eutaxia said, ending the conversation as she ushered the boys and Anthia toward the location of the fish stall. “Should we dress Nikias in his new tunic?” she asked as they walked.

“No, not yet,” Anthia cautioned. “I want to see if Philetus is there and what kind of mood he’s in first.” They rounded a small herd of sheep in a makeshift pen and got their first view of the fish stall. “Uh oh,” Anthia couldn’t help saying. She could see Philetus sitting in front of the stall, and he didn’t look happy. Galleos and his sons were there as well, and one of the sons was carrying a small basket of fish.

“Where have you been?” Philetus insisted, jumping to his feet when he saw them approaching. He marched straight up to her and slapped her across the face, shaking with anger. Anthia’s cheek stung, but that was minimal compared to her shame. She knew that Philetus was protecting his honor, his actions a response to a wife who had not fulfilled her social expectations.

Anthia could sense from Eutaxia’s body language that she wanted to insert herself into the situation, but she did not do so. She did, however, quietly set the bag of food down before stepping in front of it to block it from view. Smart, Anthia thought. That’s the best way to help me right now.

“I’m so sorry, Philetus. So sorry. Um . . . my father had another accident this morning. His tunic needed to be cleaned.” She looked at the ground, not her husband. “What do you want me to do?”

“Sell this fish, and do it now,” he ordered. “We caught them over an hour ago. We’re heading back out to try a different spot in the harbor.”

Finally Eutaxia spoke. “Where is Galleos’s wife?”

Philetus turned his glower on her, though he did answer. “Euippe is sick.” Then he stalked off, gesturing to Galleos’s son to hand over the basket. Anthia took it, and she and Nikias started arranging the fish. Some would hang from hooks, while others would be laid out on the counter. He already knew the system.

“Go, friend,” she said to Eutaxia. “Your mending awaits.”

“I’ll make sure that your father and aunt get some of this food now.”

“Thank you.”

Eutaxia walked away with Euxinus, and Anthia watched them go. I wonder what will happen tomorrow!