Slave Girl: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

I needed to get out of this city!  The size and grandeur of the capital was simply overwhelming.  I thought Paestum was impressive but Rome absolutely dwarfed it in every conceivable way.  I heard the stories but I never imagined such a place as this could really exist.  There was too much…everything.  Too many people, too much noise, too many smells.  How could people live like this?  The endless crowded streets and nonstop bustle of Rome was not for me.  Everyone here was loud and rude and in a hurry, everyone hustling for a coin or two in whatever conniving way they could.  I needed to get back to the country where I understood the quiet slow rhythms of that life.

I had done my business here and all I wanted to do now is go find my new home and start my new life.  I had my money and a scroll from a magistrate confirming the transfer of ownership of my deceased uncle’s land to me.  It had been an unexpected boon to say the least as my mother hadn’t seen her brother in over twenty years when the news came of his passing and the bequeathing of his money and property to the nephew he had never met.  There was talk of selling the land and reinvesting the money in the family farm but my mother would not hear of it.  She said that this was a blessing that I dare not turn my back on for fear of angering the fates.  The whole family had gathered for a great feast to see me off.  They were sad to see me go but as eager as I was that I make the most of this opportunity.

I should have been excited.  I should have been happy.  I had money in my pouch and a piece of land to call my own.  It was all I ever dreamed of.  Yet try as I might to focus on the journey in front of me that scene at the slave market played over and over in my mind.  With every blink of my eyes I saw that girl’s face.  I saw her fear, her desperation, and that momentary spark of hope…followed by the grim realization of her fate.  All around her bowed and exposed body only the hard uncaring faces of these city dwellers.  Why oh why did I ever decide to stop and watch!?  Why did SHE have to be there today of all days?  Why did she look at me and beg me to choose her?  Couldn’t she see by my humble attire that I was no slave buyer.  Why, why, why?

The silver coins held tight in a leather pouch rubbed against my hip on the inside of my tunic.  I could feel the weight of every one of those one hundred and sixty dinarii in both my body and my soul.  I had been so delighted when I received the money just a short time ago, yet now it hung on me like an anchor.  It was mine yet hadn’t earned this money.  I had done nothing to deserve it.  These coins had found their way to me by serendipity.  Purely because a man with no heirs, a man I never met, just happened to be related to my mother.

Each step I took was slower and more hesitant than the last.  This money could be the seed of a bright future…or it could save a woman’s life right here and now.  One option was one part of a pleasant dream and the other a hard reality happening now on the streets of Rome.  I find myself stopping and immediately get knocked into from behind.

“Watch it!”  An angry voice gripes as a man pushes past me.

I stand there on the street, my hand clutching the bag of coin, as people flow around me on either side.  The difference a cow would make for me was significant but not momentous.  I could get by without one.  The money was nice and would make things easier but it was the land that truly mattered.  If the fates had a hand in me receiving this inheritance perhaps they had placed that girl in the auction today as well.  Mom always told me that when things got really difficult to listen to the voice inside of me and that the gods would take care of the rest.

I let out a sigh and pat the purse.  “This probably wasn’t what you had in mind Uncle Paullus but…easy come, easy go.”

I turn and head back toward the market walking double time to try to get back before they left.  My heart sinks as I enter the square to see the auctioneer and slaves gone from the platform.  Scanning the crowd I soon spot the familiar yellow toga off to the side.  He was speaking among a small group of his men.  Between this group and a nearby wall was the girl, shackled and by herself.  They had even been able to sell the old ones before calling it a day.  Her head is bent forward and her blank eyes stared into the earth.  It was the look of one making terms with their own death.

Knowing what I must do I take a deep breath and approach.

The tall man spots me as I get near.  It takes a few moments but by the time I am approaching a look of recognition comes over him.

“The farmer boy.”  He says.

“Yes sir.”  I say.  As I speak the girl catches my voice and her pointed ears flick.  Her head snaps up to look at me.  I spare her a glance but no more.  “Uh…I was wondering…”

“Didn’t want that cow after all?”  The man smiles a greasy smile that makes my skin crawl.  “She’s still for sale.   Yes.  Had you waited another few minutes though…let’s just say you cut it very close young man.”  He pats my shoulder and pulls me in so close I could smell the fig on his breath.  “I understand.  You didn’t want to buy her with all those witnesses.  I don’t blame you.”

I could sense the slave staring at me off to my left but I don’t look her way.  I just wanted to have this over with and be out of here.

“I have the money.”  I say.  “I’m not sure how this all works.”

“If you have the money…it just works.”  He quips with a chuckle.  “Though there are a few legalities to attend to.  And since I’ll have to keep my people here longer…I’ll have to ask for a hundred and sixty now.  You understand.”

“But…but that’s all I have.”

“But you do have it.”  He retorts.  “I’m afraid the price is firm.”  His thin creepy grin widens.

“I…okay, I guess that makes sense.”  I pull the pouch from my tunic.  I feel its weight one last time and wonder when I’d ever have this much money all at once again then, after a moment’s hesitation, pass it over to him.

He feels it with a satisfied look.  Opening it he looks inside then passes it over to one of his men who starts to count the coins inside.  

Another of his people, a balding rotund man, produces a wax tablet and stylus and hands it to me.  “If you have a family symbol for your slaves and livestock put it here.”  The man says.  “Otherwise we’ll just brand her with the standard mark of…”

“No!”  I say.  “Branding won’t be necessary.  Thank you.”

“You really are a bumpkin, aren’t you?”  He says as I bristle at the insult, true as it was.

“Well, you see, I…I plan on freeing her as soon as…”

I don’t even finish my sentence before I am surrounded by gales of bellowing laughter.  “Oh dear boy.”  The slave master says.  “She’s Amazon.  She’ll never be free.  Not as long as she’s in the Empire.  She’s yours for life or until you sell her.”

Another of them mutters under their breath.  “Good luck with that.”

“Oh.  I didn’t…oh no.”  I was getting the sense that not only were these men happy to be rid of her, she wasn’t nearly the bargain the auctioneer made her out to be.  I suspected I could have gotten her much cheaper had I held out.  It was far too late for that though.

Impatiently the man with the tablet pushes it toward me.  “You have a symbol or no?  We can do it on her cheek, forehead, or the back of her hand.  Your choice.”

Forced into a decision I answer.  “Uh, back of her hand definitely.”  Out of the corner of my eye I notice her instinctively rub the back of her left hand.  “Are you sure it’s necessary.”

“Yes, by law.  Amazons must be marked as slaves.”  He says.  “And if you somehow manage to…I mean, if you decide to sell her on you must sell her naked.  The penalties are severe for selling one under false pretense.”

“Right.”  I look at the tablet for a time and think.  I was going to release her regardless of what these men said.  I try to think of a brand that might be easy to disguise.  Inspired by the color of her eyes I take the tablet and stylus I draw the flower of a wild rose and pass it back.  A good tattoo could probably disguise that symbol.  “Something like this.”

His bushy eyebrows raise.  “This is your symbol?”  He says with obvious amusement.

“Yes.”  I say, my patience drawing short.  “I am a land owner.  That is the symbol of my farm.  Do you have a problem with that?”

My annoyance only amused him more.  “No.  This is fine.”  He says.  “The size and detail though…”  He then shrugs.  “…but you’re the customer.”

“Is there a problem…?”  I start to ask before another of the men interrupts me.  They certainly were in a hurry to conclude this deal.

“Sign here, here, and here.”  Three sheets are produced for me to sign, one of parchment and the other two of papyrus.  “One for you, one for the seller, and one for our good Emperor.”

“Legal documents?”  I say.  “I didn’t think…oh boy.”

“You aren’t buying a cow here boy.”  The yellow robed man says.  “Don’t worry.  Claudius here is a registered advocate.  This is all nice and legal.”

I take some time to read over the documents.  The writing on each one wasn’t just written by the same hand they were absolutely identical.  Even the blotches were the same.  Real magic was involved here.  Yet another reason this city put me ill at ease.  I skim the text but I am quickly lost in the intricacies of the obfuscating language.  Each simple statement seemed to take four sentences of technical jargon to spell out.

“The boy can read.”  One of them says.  “I’m impressed.”

I look up at them.  “I should have my own advocate.”

“If you want this slave you don’t have time.”  He glances toward the silver being counted.  The man counting looks up and give his boss the thumbs up.  “Or the money if what you told me was true.”

“Can we wait until morning so that I can…”

“No.  If you want the girl you take her now.”

“Right.”  I sigh.  Taking the reed pen provided and dip it in the ink.  “No tricks?”

“No tricks.”  I am assured, it does little to ease my worries.

I look over at the girl who had her hand laid flat on small table.  Her face is tense and set to endure pain.  The man who I’d given the wax tablet to was painting the symbol I had drawn in perfect detail on the back of the slave’s hand.  The size was the same as what I had sketched meaning it took up the entirety of the space from wrist to knuckle and all the way across.  The size and unnecessary details of the drawing would no doubt combine to produce a lot of extra pain as compared to a simpler symbol.   Beside her hand is a stone bowl with some sort of gray-yellow paste inside of it.

“You don’t have to make it that big.”  I say.

“Too late.”  The man says without even looking up.

“Hoh boy.”  I mutter.  I might be the customer here but I felt like I was swept up in something beyond my control.  “I don’t know…”

“Sign the documents.”  I am told.  “We are working past time as is.”

“Right.  Right.”  I dip the pen again…pause…then sign the sheets one after the other.  The ink is barely dry when the two pieces of papyrus are scooped up.

“The deal is sealed.  The slave is yours.”

“Yeah.”  I say as I look at the parchment with my name signed on the bottom of it.  That little voice inside of me wasn’t quite so certain anymore.  I could have been on the road by now had I not turned around.  What was I doing here?  I roll up the document and put it in my pack along side my new deed.    “She needs clothes.”

“You should get her some.”  The man says.  “Not my problem.”

“Right.”  I say, knowing I should have bargained for more.  I was so bad at this.  “You mentioned a chastity cage.”

“It will cost you extra.”

“I thought you said it was included!”

“That was at two hundred.” He says.  “For the reduced price there are no frills.  Just the slave.”

“Right.”  I say.  “I see.”

He pats my shoulder with a low chuckle.  “You wouldn’t want it anyways.  Young stallion like you.”

“I didn’t buy her to be a pleasure slave!”

“Sure, sure.  No need to explain to me.”

I was about to protest when I hear a high grunt followed by a sickening sounding sizzle.  The man tasked with branding the slave had finished his painting was now spreading the yellow paste over the soft pale skin of the back of the girl’s left hand.  As the paste touched the paint the flesh beneath began to redden and blister.

“Mmmm!”  He girl hums through pursed lips as her face becomes a mask of excruciating pain.  “MMMM!”  Her free hand grips the side of the table and her jaw clenches tight as she does all she can to hold her cries in.

“Oh gods!”  I exclaim.  “Must you do this?”

“Yes.”  The man spreading the paste answers blankly.  He continues his casual cruelty as tears begin to roll freely down the girls smooth cheeks.

“Mmmhmmmm!”  She moans in agony as the sizzling intensifies and a wretched odor of sulfur and charred flesh wafts my direction.  This gathers attention from some passers by who stop to watch the girl writhe and whimper.  It was grotesque.

“What is taking so long?”

“It’s her demon blood.  This might take awhile to properly scar.”

I look away.  Unlike the gawkers who had gathered I had no stomach for this.  The whimpering moans continue before at last she can bear the suffering no longer and lets out a wail of raw anguish.  “AHHHH HAAAAH!!!”

There are murmurs and even laughter from those gathered.  “Damn you all!” I growl as I start pushing a few of them away.  “Get!  Get away from here you bastards!”

The citizens look at me like a madman as they disperse.  I was so angry at them yet I knew it was because of me she was suffering like this.  I thought I was doing good but this was…unbearable!  I never wanted to torture her.  The girl's screams raise as the sizzling burn goes on and on and on.  The man reapplies another layer of paste and another is forced to hold her still as the big detailed rose that I had drawn is seared indelibly into her flesh.  Even the hardened slave master begins to cringe at the length and intensity of her suffering.

After what seemed an eternity the paste is wiped away with a wet cloth.  “It’s done.”

I look to see the girl trembling like a leaf and cradling her left hand to her naked body, the angry red of the fresh brand seared into it.  Her shackles and collar is removed and without another word the slave master and his crew collect their belongings and leave.

Her lithe body trembling, tears still wetting her cheeks, she whispers in a breathless shuddering voice.  “Th-th-thank y-you M-master.”

Chapter 3