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There were many rules when one served at the table. Whom to serve first was easiest, as it was always Danarius. Whom to serve after that was trickier, as it involved determining which Magister was currently the most powerful, which ones Danarius would most like to show favoritism to, which ones he wanted to subtly insult and then weighing those judgments against each other. He was never given explicit instruction, and when he judged incorrectly he was punished. Sometimes, even when his judgement was correct, he was punished anyway for his presumption.
There were also rules about the wine itself. He was not the slave responsible for storing and selecting, at least, but for every other detail he carried the burden and the details were many and minute. How he picked and held the bottle as he carried it, how he held it as it was opened, how he held the glass as he poured, so that the wine swirled around the bowl of the goblets just so. How much was poured into each glass and how quickly he offered a refill was subject to the same judgments that went into determining whom was served first, although those rankings might change depending on who displeased or pleased Danarius throughout the course of the meal. Accordingly, he was always straining to pay attention to the flow of conversation and the change in his master’s mood as he focused on doing everything perfectly.
The nights that Hadriana joined their master at the table were the worst. She knew the rules as well as he, and it amused her to try and make him break them. Danarius never intervened; he watched her torment ‘his pet’ the same way he watched the cats hunt birds in the garden, with a kind of amused indifference to her cruelty.
One night, when her more subtle methods of bothering him seemingly had no effect, she simply tripped him with her foot as he passed by her seat. It was completely unexpected, and to his shame he stumbled badly, but still his reflexes were good enough that he managed to recover without spilling a drop. Danarius might have rebuked him had not one of the other Magisters commented on how dexterous he was. His master always accepted compliments to his slave as if they were directed at himself, and so he was appeased. Hadriana however, was not, and he felt a quick flash of triumph that her little gambit hadn't worked. That was the last time during his bondage that he ever felt that way.
Later she had him brought to her room where she waited with the empty bottle in hand, and she proceeded to remind him that he was allowed to own nothing, not even a momentary victory.
That, it seemed, was the most important rule of all.