The Songs of Slaves (10 page)

“Here! Look!
Foreign born, in the same land as the beautiful woman whom you are too miserly to buy.
Her brother I think. But look at his frame, so sturdy. And look at these muscles. He’s been meat-fed all his years, in those distant dark forests that teem with more venison and boar than the
Augustulus
’ table itself. You won’t find any of those cheap pauper slaves with bodies like this. They’ve all been fed on the cheapest grain and grown up so close to each other that they are puny and sickly. This young barbarian is an oak tree to them.”

“He does look good. But actually, he looks a bit skinny for a heavy lifter,” the man said. “I was looking for more of a Germani build. My other lifters are Germani or from the wilds of Africa, and they have worked well for me.”

“Ah,” Andopaxtes grunted, waving his hand dismissively. “Germani are fine and good. But this youth is better. He’s thinned down from his capture.
Feed him decently and work him, and he shall out-lift all your Germani, I assure you.”

“So you say. But he looks willful. And his skin is too fair. It will burn up in our sun.”

“He will tan in time. But what y
ou see as willfulness is spirit
–
something you need in a heavy lifter. Everyone knows that. He rowed my ship here all the way from dark Britannia. He is a proper worker, naturally, if you know slaves and how to utilize them. Yes, perhaps – like a fine horse
–
if you are an amateur and do not know how to properly direct him, then he may be too much for you. But you look like a man who knows how to manage his estate, and get work out of your people. Am I wrong?”

The older man narrowed his green eyes, scrutinizing Connor from head to foot. He stood very close, but did not touch him. Connor watched and listened, but averted his stare from Andopaxtes’ customer. He had been almost sold a few times before, and so was used to being sized up in this way; but for him being sold only meant one thing – another possible chance to escape. What might happen then was more than he could devise. He had turned his mind to ways in which he could survive in this alien place and
eventually make his way back home, though it seemed impossible. Nonetheless, he had sworn that the moment he was out of the hands of those who were cautious and experienced enough to keep him captive that he would escape somehow. Now his opportunity may be near.

“What do you think, Lorentius?”

“I think he is a too skinny.”

“Skinny?”
Andopaxtes protested, slapping Connor’s shoulders and thighs. “Lean, like the marble statues of the gods! All the strength you need is right here. And look at his gear here, eh? He could double as a breeder, eh? Freshen up your stock and give your slave women some big-framed children. Or do you like to freshen up your own stock, eh?”

Lorentius chuckled, but his father did not look amused.

“We are of
the Equestrian class. Men of quality
do not father slaves to put out in the field.”

“Oh? Well, as you say then,” Andopaxtes replied.

“
How much do you want for him?” t
he older man asked.

“Well, I’ve taken him a long way and put a lot into him. He even speaks a little, you know. But I like you, young man, and your father here.”

“
You may call me Lucius
Montevarius
Corvinus
.
And enough words and games.
How much do you want for the slave?”

“Ten.”

Lucius smiled.

“Are you a slave trader or a street jester? Seven.”

Andopaxtes scratched his beard.

“I said I like you two, but I could easily get twelve for him. If not here, then in
Nikaia
or Italia.”

“You will not get that for him here,
nor
in Italia, and if you want to try you should know that the further east you go the more pirate ships you will encounter. The Navy is spread too thin. Or perhaps these days the Navy itself will just take him off your hands as a contribution. They will take the girl and the others, too.”

A look of anxiety made its escape on Andopaxtes’ polished expression.

“I can see that I read yo
u wrong. You are a cruel man,” t
he Greek said.

“I am an honest man.”

“Nine then, for an honest man.”

“Eight and no more.”

“Then we cannot agree!”

“Then, Greek, you have wasted my time. I believe I saw traders selling Germani and Scythians over towards the church. Let us go Lorentius.”

Andopaxtes watched resentfully as his customer walked away.

But Lorentius had little interest in the bargaining and had wondered over to Dania once more. He approached her, and Sejius made way for him. Lorentius lifted the girl’s chin and looked into her blue eyes. He bent his head down and smelled her red hair. Dania lowered her head once more as the Gaul removed his hand. Lorentius cupped both of her b
reasts in his hands
. Dania lifted her eyes to him once more, but the distance was gone and for a moment Connor could see her naked fear once more.

“Let her go, Pig Shit!” Connor blasted. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized that in his rage he had spoken in the Gaelic tongue of his homeland. But Lorentius heard his meaning well
enough, and he glared at him as malevolence curled the corners of his lips.

Sejius picked up his rod and moved towards Co
nnor, not waiting for his boss’
command. Twice in one day was too much to endure. But with long strides, Lorentius got to the bound Celt first. The Gaul’s face was like a smoldering fire and his hand found the hilt of his
spatha
. He moved in towards Connor until they stood brow-to-brow. Connor stood like stone, raw rebellion burning in his gaze. But he was bound and as helpless as he had been these long months.

“Do you have something to say to me, Slave?”

“I got no problem with you killing him, young
Dominus
,” Sejius said in a low voice. “But if you do you bought’em.”

Lorentius turned away, his face calm once more.

“Father?” he called. “I think this one does show promise.”

“I just heard him cry out when he wasn’t bought,” Lucius said, walking back towards them. “It is hard enough to take in a free-born slave without such will.”

“Or it may be an omen,” Lorentius offered. “And the trader is right. Spirit is essential in a heavy lifter.”

Lucius said nothing, considering. Andopaxtes drew near, sensing that his luck was returning to him.

“Eight and a half,” Lucius said.

“Nine.”

“Eight and a half.”

Slowly, Andopaxtes nodded.

“Get the cart and the horses,” Lucius said to Lorentius.

“I am glad that we could come to an agreement,” Andopaxtes said.
“Though you are a shrewd and miserly man.”

“Would you like your payment in silver, or would you like it in wine?” Lucius asked. “My estate is east of here, in the hills. I produce the best wine in the region. It is savored by the finest families in Gaul and even as far away as Ravenna and Rome. I happen to have a quantity with me. You could keep what I gave you for your pleasure, or sell it again at a high price.”

“Ah.
Wine?
I could have wine anywhere, every
day. And what might you do? Offer me a taste of some rich vintage and then actually give me sealed amphorae
of some common stuff?
No, my good sir.
You have already taken enough bread out of my children’s mouths with your cold dealings.”

“You have sold your children by now, I am sure,” Lucius said.
“So no more words.
Take your money.”

As he counted out the coins and Andopaxtes weighed them for accuracy, Lorentius returned, weaving his horse through the ever-thickening crowd. Behind him walked two big men, Germani slaves in white tunics, leading a horse drawn cart.

Sejius unfastened the manacles around Connor’s wrists and ankles, but kept a tight grip on the chain of his collar. The simple wool tunic that Connor had been given as a meager covering when he was not on display was tossed to him and wrestled over his head. Lucius’ two slaves helped Sejius goad Connor to the back of the cart. Lorentius was waiting there with a coil of strong rope.

“Do not allow him a chance to work the knots, son, but do not bind him too tightly,” Lucius said.

“Of course not, father,” Lorentius answered, pulling the bindings until Connor winced. Deftly he bound Connor, working the rope through an iron ring at
the back of the cart. The ropes were wrapped around his wrist and his now bare neck, the knots tied far from where his fingers might reach them. Soon Lorentius was finished.

“You’ll run behind us,” Lorentius hissed in Connor’s face. It did not matter to him if his new acquisition could understand his words. “If you fall you will be dragged by your neck and arms. If you do not get to your feet you will probably die. So let’s hope we do not have an accident out there.”

Lucius came to the back and checked the coils around Connor’s wrists. He slipped his fingers in between and worked them looser.

“He will not be much of a heavy lifter if he does not have his hands, Son,” Lucius said. “After we deliver the wine to the Prefect’s house we will have to go and get him some shoes.” 

“I think this savage is accustomed to running barefoot, Father. Our stones should not hurt him.”

“He will need shoes,” Lucius said, as he swung up into his saddle. The two slaves moved up to the driving board. They cracked their reigns and the wheels in front of Connor started to turn.

Lorentius reigned in his horse in front of Andopaxtes.

“If you do not sell this girl for your sixteen pieces, take her to the House of Ruthia on the north side of town. Tell them I sent you. It is a good establishment. They will pay you a decent price for her, I expect.
The House of Ruthia.”

He rode on behind his father. The wheels of the cart squeaked as it lurched forward. Andopaxtes looked on Connor, smiling as he held the leather bag of coins in his hand.

“
Cursed are you, condemned to burn forever in the Lake of Fire, where there is eternal weeping and gnashing of teeth,
” Connor quoted in Greek through clenched teeth as he stared into the trader’s eyes. Hundreds of years had passed since those words had first been penned, and Connor’s command of that language was shallow and uncertain, but Andopaxtes heard their full meaning from the mouth of the barbarian he had sold. His face grew pale, and for a moment he faltered.

The cart picked up speed as the crowd began to make way for it.

“Dania!”
Connor called in Gaelic.
“Dania!
I will come for you. I will find you. I will take you back home. Back to your father and your sisters and your friends who wait for you. This I swear to you. This I swear to God.”

But Dania did not look up, though her chest shuddered as if she wept quietly. Connor called to her again, but the crowd closed behind him, and soon she was lost from his sight. 

IV

             
The horses pushed forward tirelessly, the rhythm of their movements brisk and steady as the turning wheels kicked up loose pebbles on the white road. Connor jogged behind them, trying to keep some slack in his bonds. The sprawling city of Massilia was behind them and they had come to open countryside. The land was rugged and dry in the hot June sun. The mountains were tall and austere; the grasses and trees a more subdued green than the home that Connor longed for. The forests – the cover that Connor had counted on to shield his imagined escape – had been pushed back to the corners of the landscape, leaving only the groves of olive trees and the patchwork of vineyards to clothe the hillsides. But though it may not have been as lush as his homeland, the open ground exceeded it in colors, as wildflowers – brilliant in scarlet, royal purple, white, and gold – covered any neglected patch of field; and though Connor’s mind was darkened he could not reject the beauty of the place.

             
Yet his thoughts were bent on one purpose, as his newly shod feet pounded the miles
–
how he might escape. Right now it was impossible; his bonds were
tight, and his captors were keeping close watch over him. The arrog
ant son rode back often
to goad Connor with his riding crop or the scabbard of his sword. But their vigilance could not last forever. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but he would take advantage of their first lapse. He would make his way back to the city. With the many foreigners that crowded the streets, all he would need would be some stolen clothes to fit in. With his slave garb discarded, his hair combed and his face shaved, his mastery of Latin would allow him to disappear. And then he would find Dania, and passage home. Had the fools not taught him to sail as they exploited him for labor? It would not be easy, but Connor was ready, and he burned for the chance to enact his plan. And so his eyes were hungry, marking the landscape and the way as he ran northeast behind the wagon.