there. You could do without being spattered with other people’s blood when the domina sees you. It would raise difficult questions, sir.’
Fronto nodded. ‘Quite right. Sage advice, there, my friend. I’ll see you outside when I’ve cleaned up. And when we get home I want to set a two-man armed guard in the warehouse each night. Hierocles has just shifted his game up a notch. I’m going to make him sorry for this.’
* * * * *
‘I still don’t like this.’
Lucilia nodded patiently. ‘I know dear. You’re startlingly un-Roman in your outlook sometimes, you know, my love? But bear in mind that these people will soon have a roof over their head, a warm home, good meals and even a few coins. Better than the free but poor of Rome. And every slave you buy is someone you save from fieldwork or the mines, if you’re feeling philanthropic again. They won’t understand their good fortune after spending their youth living in mud huts and washing in streams.’
Fronto snorted. ‘Sorry, Lucilia, but that’s the sort of blinkered Romanitas that only afflicts those who haven’t fought alongside the Gauls. Don’t forget that many of them served in Caesar’s army. They have their own world that’s in some strange ways more civilised than ours. And they don’t live in mud huts. They have stone- and timber-built houses with windows and doors and rugs and furniture.’
‘And there’s little chance of another servile war,’ Lucilia went on as though he hadn’t spoken. ‘The Spartacus debacle taught people a lesson.’
‘Balls! It taught people a lesson for a couple of years. A few people have shunned slaves, but the rest stopped treating them so badly for a few months until the horrors were forgotten, then they went straight back to beating the boys and humping the girls like a good Roman pater familias .’
‘Then you be an exception to the rule.’
‘You don’t understand, Lucilia. The majority of the slaves at the market will be Gauls of one tribe or another. It’s possible I was even commanding the fight when some of them were taken. And even if not, they were once free men with a sense of nobility and they’re hardly likely to view a new Roman master with any level of acceptance. If you buy a Gaul and speak Latin, watch for a makeshift knife in the night.’
‘Then just be choosy about who we buy. I am quite capable of selecting good house slaves. You can steer us right in terms of Gauls, and Glykon knows the trade world, so he can advise us well on who to take on for your business.’
Fronto turned and looked at the dark-haired Greek who followed at a respectful distance. Behind him, Masgava and Aurelius watched the crowd carefully. Masgava had decided that following the ‘incident’ at the warehouse, Fronto would have an armed guard whenever possible, and the former officer had not the strength to argue. Consequently, while Biorix and Arcadios watched over the warehouse, the big ex-Gladiator and the superstitious former legionary accompanied he and Lucilia, both wearing nondescript local-style clothing but with a long dagger and a short one at their belt beneath the cloaks they all wore against the Januarius chill. The temperature had finally risen last month and the skies had been blue for weeks. At least it never snowed or froze down here like it did in the north, but there was still a chilling wind from the sea.
Glykon was clearly doing his best for the business. He had managed to secure a few small deals, to help alleviate the pressure, with the contacts he had in the city. And he worked all hours, despite a lack of bonus in pay. And, of course, he had saved Fronto’s skin in the warehouse. Lucilia had wanted to give him a gift for his timely interruption there, but Glykon had refused, labelling it his duty. He was a good man. But…
Far from the agora, close to the huge pottery warehouses and the kiln buildings pouring their pungent smoke into the sky, the slave market was
Fronto nodded. ‘Quite right. Sage advice, there, my friend. I’ll see you outside when I’ve cleaned up. And when we get home I want to set a two-man armed guard in the warehouse each night. Hierocles has just shifted his game up a notch. I’m going to make him sorry for this.’
* * * * *
‘I still don’t like this.’
Lucilia nodded patiently. ‘I know dear. You’re startlingly un-Roman in your outlook sometimes, you know, my love? But bear in mind that these people will soon have a roof over their head, a warm home, good meals and even a few coins. Better than the free but poor of Rome. And every slave you buy is someone you save from fieldwork or the mines, if you’re feeling philanthropic again. They won’t understand their good fortune after spending their youth living in mud huts and washing in streams.’
Fronto snorted. ‘Sorry, Lucilia, but that’s the sort of blinkered Romanitas that only afflicts those who haven’t fought alongside the Gauls. Don’t forget that many of them served in Caesar’s army. They have their own world that’s in some strange ways more civilised than ours. And they don’t live in mud huts. They have stone- and timber-built houses with windows and doors and rugs and furniture.’
‘And there’s little chance of another servile war,’ Lucilia went on as though he hadn’t spoken. ‘The Spartacus debacle taught people a lesson.’
‘Balls! It taught people a lesson for a couple of years. A few people have shunned slaves, but the rest stopped treating them so badly for a few months until the horrors were forgotten, then they went straight back to beating the boys and humping the girls like a good Roman pater familias .’
‘Then you be an exception to the rule.’
‘You don’t understand, Lucilia. The majority of the slaves at the market will be Gauls of one tribe or another. It’s possible I was even commanding the fight when some of them were taken. And even if not, they were once free men with a sense of nobility and they’re hardly likely to view a new Roman master with any level of acceptance. If you buy a Gaul and speak Latin, watch for a makeshift knife in the night.’
‘Then just be choosy about who we buy. I am quite capable of selecting good house slaves. You can steer us right in terms of Gauls, and Glykon knows the trade world, so he can advise us well on who to take on for your business.’
Fronto turned and looked at the dark-haired Greek who followed at a respectful distance. Behind him, Masgava and Aurelius watched the crowd carefully. Masgava had decided that following the ‘incident’ at the warehouse, Fronto would have an armed guard whenever possible, and the former officer had not the strength to argue. Consequently, while Biorix and Arcadios watched over the warehouse, the big ex-Gladiator and the superstitious former legionary accompanied he and Lucilia, both wearing nondescript local-style clothing but with a long dagger and a short one at their belt beneath the cloaks they all wore against the Januarius chill. The temperature had finally risen last month and the skies had been blue for weeks. At least it never snowed or froze down here like it did in the north, but there was still a chilling wind from the sea.
Glykon was clearly doing his best for the business. He had managed to secure a few small deals, to help alleviate the pressure, with the contacts he had in the city. And he worked all hours, despite a lack of bonus in pay. And, of course, he had saved Fronto’s skin in the warehouse. Lucilia had wanted to give him a gift for his timely interruption there, but Glykon had refused, labelling it his duty. He was a good man. But…
Far from the agora, close to the huge pottery warehouses and the kiln buildings pouring their pungent smoke into the sky, the slave market was
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