Slave Girl 2: Chapter 69 (Patreon)

My men work admirably, all of us quickly settling into the tasks of harvest, but with being a man down we cannot recapture the nice rhythm that we had developed the day before meaning that my inexperienced crew was falling even further behind the others.  It wasn’t the end of the world but for a guy like me who took a lot of pride in my work it grated at that pride that we were the weakest link despite our best effort.  But there was nothing for it.  My men were doing their best and driving them harder would only lead to errors, shoddy work, and hard feelings.  I quietly curse Lucas for his rash behavior but I also curse myself in equal measure for inspiring it in the first place.  I had seen that passion that had seized him.  I knew his action oriented temperament.  While I wasn’t responsible for his actions I knew that a better leader would have handled him differently.  I take it as a valuable lesson for the future.

That morning as we work we are taught a work song by Gyasi.  As our deep voices harmonize in ways so different from Rosa’s dulcet notes yet somehow tapping into the same deep wellspring of the soul I again wonder if there were some sort of hidden magic in song that even us common folk could access.  The regular tempo and repeating harmony of the tune made the hot, gritty toil flow as smoothly as a dance, our actions seeming to happen without thought or effort in perfect time with the music.  The minutes flit by pleasantly and with astounding swiftness.  We were in full throat, maybe an hour past lunch, when the rhythm is broken by Julian suddenly standing and pointing.

“Lucas!  He actually found him!”

We all turn to look and there I see the pair walking across the field toward us.  Lucas, grinning and triumphant, looked quite proud to be leading back the very man we’d spoken about the day before.  Except for a flare of the nostrils as he spots and recognizes me the slave’s face however was as cool as marble.  A flutter of nerves tickle my insides at the sight of the man I had done combat with but I do not let it show.  If I was going to gain respect from this man I knew that I could not let him see fear in me.  I step forward and await them.  My crew gathers up behind me but the slave’s focused gaze is locked on me and only me.

In the revealing light of Sol he was not the nightmare warrior that he appeared to be under Luna’s glow.  He was as tall and wiry as I remembered but in every way he looked a haggard shell of the man he might be.  His long reddish-gray hair was thin and wispy, frayed at the ends.  His scarred face was sunken and gaunt.  His long-limbed sinewy frame bordered on the malnourished.  I could see that while he maintained some lean muscle in his prime this was a man who would have carried much more mass than he did now.  Even that slinking predator’s efficiency of motion that I had been so struck with was hobbled by pain.  And as he neared I saw why.  Peaking out from his sleeveless tunic were blotted dark patches of bruising and the angry pink streaks of a lash’s bite.  He had been beat, badly, and it was only sheer pride that allowed him to stand and put one foot in front of the next to follow Lucas.

“I got him!  Wasn’t even hard.”  Lucas says as he nears.  Turning back he extends his arms to present the man like some captured prize returning to Rome.  “I hired a couple more while I was in town so it didn’t look so weird.  I dropped them off back at the farm but…hey!”

The slave did not stop where Lucas expected him to so that he could be gawked at by this group of field workers.  Instead he continues, stepping past Lucas on a straight line toward me.  The men rustle behind me at what appeared to be a threat but I hold them back.  The man comes to stand within an arm’s reach, staring at me nearly eye to eye.

Lucas hurries up to stand beside us.  “Woah!  Woah!  Woah!”  He waves his hands.  “No fight!  No fight!”

The slave does not even hear Lucas as his glare drills into mine.  Neither aggressive nor defensive I stand tall and meet his gaze resolutely.  If he wanted to go at it again I had every advantage this time.  With him recovering from a beating, with a sharp sickle gripped in my hand, and with my crew of 5 healthy men backing me up he would stand no chance at all.  He knew that as well as I yet still he glared.

“With the others about I haven’t had the chance to tell him anything.  I am not even sure he speaks Latin.”  Lucas says, nervously on edge and ready to try to jump between us if necessary.  “He hasn’t said a word.”

“He speaks it.”  I say without averting my eyes.  “Fluently.  Don’t you Northman?”

Before Lucas can reply the man proves it.  “You have summoned me here?”  All the emphasis was poured onto the word ‘You’.

“Not exactly.”  I say.  “Lucas…got carried away with a notion of his.  I was still undecided.”

“It was my idea but…”

“Lucas.”  I cut him off.  “Let me do the talking for now.  We’ve got old business he and I.”

“Uh…sure Quin.”  He falls quiet and shifts to join the others.

The slave’s eyes flit left and right, in an instant taking the measure of our crew and calculating his slim chances.  “You are the boss here?”

“This is my crew.”  I say, motioning with a lift of my chin to the other crews scattered throughout the field.  “Just one of many.”

“You wished to see me broken.”  He says, his tone cool but his eyes seething.  “You wished to see me obedient.”

“No.  I never wanted that.”

“You want to finish our contest.”  He says.  “You need to know if you could have bested me.”

“No.”  I say again.  “That is what YOU wish.  What I need is a worker.”

His jaw clenched he lets a long breath out through his nose.  “I have thought a lot about what I was going to do if I ever I saw you again.  I never figured it would be so soon.”  He says, his gravelly voice devoid of emotion.  “Should I thank you for saving my life?”  His icy blue eyes narrow and harden.  “Or should I kill you for prolonging my suffering?”

“You will hold your tongue, slave!”  Lucas barks but I silence him with a raise of my hand.  The others stir uneasily.

“Let him speak.”  I say.

“If not for you that night would have been like any other.  If you hadn’t have been there to slow me down…it all would have been different.”

“Then I am glad I was.”  I say without apology.  “Aristocles did nothing to deserve your master’s hate.”

“It was you who gave the merchants the spine to stand against us.  It was you who told the tall one to run as you distracted us.”  He says, the answers to his questions already affirmed in his mind.  “It was you who arranged to have Amphion nearby.  It was you that stirred all of it up in the first place.”

“And I would do it again.”  I say, continuing to hold his gaze.

“For a kobalos?”

“For a friend.”

He scoffs.  “Why have you brought me here Quintus Quintilianus?  Why me?  If it is revenge you want do it now and spare me the drivel.”

I look left and right, to the faces of my men, then back to the slave.  “The truth?”

“The truth.”

“I wish to train.

“Train?”

“We all wish to train.  In pankration and whatever other combat arts you possess.”  I say.  “My father was claimed by the wars before he could properly train me, but I believe it was his intention that I learn someday.  Not to be a soldier but just to learn.”

“We wish to be hounds.”  Lucas pipes up.  “Among the sheep.  To watch over our flock and guard it from wolves.”

“I wish to be a lion.”  Says Gyasi.  “To protect my pride.”

“We want to learn to fight.”  Says his fellow slave Quique.  “Like you do.  With skill and discipline and honor.”

“Quin told us that you are the greatest fighter he’s ever seen.”  The other slave Oeneus says.  “Even as a slave you gained his admiration.  I wish to be seen like that as well.  Perhaps one day to fight for my freedom in the Colosseum.”

“Perhaps I judged you wrong but I don’t believe you are the same as those scoundrels who own you.”  I say.  “I hope I am proved right.  But if I don’t show you trust I will never know if you would have betrayed it and we would be denied even the chance to learn at the feet of a master such as you.”

At this most unexpected answer emotion breaks through the stony veneer.  He looks around at each of us, confusion across his weathered face.

“Train?”  He says again disbelieving.  “You?”

“That’s our hope.  But either way I do need a worker most of all.”  I state.  “We’ve got weeks ahead of us yet.  Or are you afraid of hard work?  Has the city life made your hands soft Northman?”

He shuffles backward a step and looks down at the palms of his hands.  His voice softens and his rugged expression relaxes for an instant.  “I was a farmer once.  A farmer and a fisherman and…a father.  Under Odin’s sight I was many things that I am not now.”

“A farmer?  Good!  Then I won’t have to teach you as well.”

His hands clench into fists.  “But that was long ago.  Another life.”  His eyes snap back up to meet mine.  “You are so young Quintus Quintilianus.  So naive.  So foolish.  So…unbroken.”

“You are not the first to call me a fool.”  I offer my hand.  “The training is optional.  The work is not.  What do you say?”

He looks at my hand, appearing more ready to spit on it than take it.  “And if I refuse?”

“We’ll send you back to your life as a thug.”  I say.  “Too old, too soft, too broken.”  At that last word he bristles.  “What do you say you old man?  Got one more harvest in you?”

There is a moment of still as the man weighs my words.  “I might just kill you Roman.”

“But not before you train me.  Not if it’s a fair fight that you’re after.”  I say back and push my hand further forward.  “What do you say?”

He stares at my extended hand…then thrusts his hand out to take it.  He takes my forearm in a hard grasp and I grip his in return.  We shake, for this moment, as equals. There are breaths of relief from the others at the breaking of the tension.  They quickly gather around to welcome our new member.  A couple of them slap his wounded back.  He flinches but does not say a word of protest.

I finish the shake and step back.  “Lucas.  Take him in and find him a bunk.  See if Cas can scrounge him up a meal and drink.”

“He’s not starting now?”

“Let him rest the day.  I want him strong for a full shift tomorrow.”  I say, not wishing to call attention to his injuries.  “Today is beyond hope but tomorrow we keep up with the other crews.”  I look around at the men.  “No excuses.”

“We’ll keep up.”  Lucas says.  “And then some!”

“If you don’t wander off again.”  I scold.  “Now get, and let the rest of us get back to doing our work and yours.”

“Ha ha!  I won’t be long!”  Lucas says, overjoyed with how this all had went.  “I’ll be right back my brothers!”

“Hey.”  I stop and turn back to the pair before they are more than ten steps away.  “What is your name Northman?”

He turns and says.  “My name is…Toke.”

“Toke.”  I nod.  “I will see you in the morning.”

He nods back.  “I will be here Master Quintus.”

Chapter 70