Cyrus
jerked my lead hard and I fell to my knees into a puddle by the tanner. A
wealthy woman squawked angrily at me, her brass and copper adornments jangling,
and sidestepped to avoid my splash. Cyrus slapped at my ears. I scrambled to my
feet to avoid another blow. My scraped knees began to flush and burn from the
lye in the scummy puddle.
“ Move .” Cyrus muttered. “This way.”
Slaves are common in Thrace and Greece. Even some
of the families in my village had housed slaves, though I’d scarce took notice
of them. And now I would be sold to some family, to cook food, mend clothing,
and tend their children. My life would no longer be my own. Oh, how my father
would be crushed!
When we reached the slave pits, the sheer numbers
of people for sale shocked me. Most slaves were barbarians captured by pirates
or soldiers. Others were the children of slaves or had been abandoned and
rescued by slavers like Cyrus, who roamed the rugged hillsides looking for
souls to ply his trade. I had no idea there would be so many of us.
Live free , my father wished for me
with his last breath. And I’d failed him, as I’d failed my mother and unborn
brother.
Hot tears blinded me as Cyrus maneuvered us
towards the pits. I bowed my head, thinking to hide my face behind the curtain
of my filthy hair.
“Sssst, girl,” the old Samothraki hissed. “Cease
your tears else it will go worse for you. Wipe your face. Pray for a kind
master.”
“Pray? To whom?” I moaned. What god would save me from
the Hell I had created in my naivety?
My ears still rang from Cyrus’ blow. My reddened
knees felt as if a hundred stinging insects crawled on my flesh. I stank. I
hurt. I could not face this humiliation, not without someone to guide my steps.
What I wouldn’t do for my near-sister to comfort me, now. But Mara was far
away, hidden in a nest of traitorous vipers.
Cyrus pulled me to a long table, where they wrote
my name and a price on potshard. The shard had a hole through it and a leather
lace to suspend it from my neck.
Thracian girl , I read. One
hundred drachmas .
One hundred drachmas? So much? Cyrus was a madman.
The scribe raised his brows at Cyrus’ price, but wrote it just the same. I felt
his dark eyes on me when he finished and handed the shard to Cyrus.
Cyrus gathered up the shard for the old Samothraki
and set a price on the two boys, to be sold as a pair. Even together, their
price was not half of my own.
“This way,” Cyrus ordered. He tugged my lead
toward the rocky stretch of beach beyond the slave stockyard. The old
Samothraki shrugged his shoulders at me. Apparently this was not typical.
“Where are you taking me?” I dared to ask.
Cyrus gave me a dark look and wrinkled his nose. Then
we took a short detour and went around the backsides of what appeared to be
private homes. The walls were low and coated in white plaster that reflected
the sun’s rays. They were crumbling in a few areas from neglect, or the sea
salt in the air, I guessed, and some of the small gardens were overgrown. Still
a few had courtyards that seemed tidy enough.
When he found the gate he was looking for, Cyrus
whistled sharp and high. The shrill sound nearly split my ears. A woman poked
her head out the rear door of the dwelling.
She frowned. “What do you want?”
“She needs a bath and a fresh chiton,” said Cyrus.
“Nothing fine. How much?”
The woman’s eyes shifted toward me. She shrugged
in indifference and named a price that made Cyrus tighten his hands on my lead.
As they haggled back and forth, the old Samothraki edged closer to me.
“You will fetch a higher price when your beauty no
longer hides behind your filth. Be thankful you have such a clever trader to
bargain on your behalf.”
Oh, yes. Cyrus was clever.
“He has only spared me the worst of his
attentions,” I whispered back. “It will not save me from being sold against my
will.”
The Samothraki tightened his lips at my words, but
his irritation did
jerked my lead hard and I fell to my knees into a puddle by the tanner. A
wealthy woman squawked angrily at me, her brass and copper adornments jangling,
and sidestepped to avoid my splash. Cyrus slapped at my ears. I scrambled to my
feet to avoid another blow. My scraped knees began to flush and burn from the
lye in the scummy puddle.
“ Move .” Cyrus muttered. “This way.”
Slaves are common in Thrace and Greece. Even some
of the families in my village had housed slaves, though I’d scarce took notice
of them. And now I would be sold to some family, to cook food, mend clothing,
and tend their children. My life would no longer be my own. Oh, how my father
would be crushed!
When we reached the slave pits, the sheer numbers
of people for sale shocked me. Most slaves were barbarians captured by pirates
or soldiers. Others were the children of slaves or had been abandoned and
rescued by slavers like Cyrus, who roamed the rugged hillsides looking for
souls to ply his trade. I had no idea there would be so many of us.
Live free , my father wished for me
with his last breath. And I’d failed him, as I’d failed my mother and unborn
brother.
Hot tears blinded me as Cyrus maneuvered us
towards the pits. I bowed my head, thinking to hide my face behind the curtain
of my filthy hair.
“Sssst, girl,” the old Samothraki hissed. “Cease
your tears else it will go worse for you. Wipe your face. Pray for a kind
master.”
“Pray? To whom?” I moaned. What god would save me from
the Hell I had created in my naivety?
My ears still rang from Cyrus’ blow. My reddened
knees felt as if a hundred stinging insects crawled on my flesh. I stank. I
hurt. I could not face this humiliation, not without someone to guide my steps.
What I wouldn’t do for my near-sister to comfort me, now. But Mara was far
away, hidden in a nest of traitorous vipers.
Cyrus pulled me to a long table, where they wrote
my name and a price on potshard. The shard had a hole through it and a leather
lace to suspend it from my neck.
Thracian girl , I read. One
hundred drachmas .
One hundred drachmas? So much? Cyrus was a madman.
The scribe raised his brows at Cyrus’ price, but wrote it just the same. I felt
his dark eyes on me when he finished and handed the shard to Cyrus.
Cyrus gathered up the shard for the old Samothraki
and set a price on the two boys, to be sold as a pair. Even together, their
price was not half of my own.
“This way,” Cyrus ordered. He tugged my lead
toward the rocky stretch of beach beyond the slave stockyard. The old
Samothraki shrugged his shoulders at me. Apparently this was not typical.
“Where are you taking me?” I dared to ask.
Cyrus gave me a dark look and wrinkled his nose. Then
we took a short detour and went around the backsides of what appeared to be
private homes. The walls were low and coated in white plaster that reflected
the sun’s rays. They were crumbling in a few areas from neglect, or the sea
salt in the air, I guessed, and some of the small gardens were overgrown. Still
a few had courtyards that seemed tidy enough.
When he found the gate he was looking for, Cyrus
whistled sharp and high. The shrill sound nearly split my ears. A woman poked
her head out the rear door of the dwelling.
She frowned. “What do you want?”
“She needs a bath and a fresh chiton,” said Cyrus.
“Nothing fine. How much?”
The woman’s eyes shifted toward me. She shrugged
in indifference and named a price that made Cyrus tighten his hands on my lead.
As they haggled back and forth, the old Samothraki edged closer to me.
“You will fetch a higher price when your beauty no
longer hides behind your filth. Be thankful you have such a clever trader to
bargain on your behalf.”
Oh, yes. Cyrus was clever.
“He has only spared me the worst of his
attentions,” I whispered back. “It will not save me from being sold against my
will.”
The Samothraki tightened his lips at my words, but
his irritation did
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