by C K Ruppelt
“Quite rank in here. I guess that’s what happens when we’re short on water,” Capussia commented. He looked around at the other four men present. “Sorry, but we should talk alone.”
“I’ll come outside with you.” Oz led the way out of their tent and over into one of the camp’s many newly empty sections.
Capussia touched his arm. “This should be fine.” They stopped and faced each other.
“First things first. Your tent’s squad leader is dead, and since I know the other men respect you, I hereby declare you the replacement decurion. Do you accept?” Oz hesitated. He didn’t know if he was the most qualified, though he supposed there were worse choices. He liked the idea of double pay, which might help his men buy chainmail sooner. Oz nodded and stood straighter. “Thank you for your trust, I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Now to the other part of my business. I just spent a few hours in the command tent with Balventius, Seppius and Andrippos. The situation is of course bad, though we have many weeks of food stores. The water supply is our main issue. It’s much worse than we let the men know so far. At the current rate we’ll be out in a week.”
“Meaning we can’t wait this out,” Oz answered, swallowing hard.
“Correct. We need a couple of squads to sneak through the enemy lines and go for help. Most of the Celtici clan is here, penning us in. We’re hopeful that the other cohorts can march here before we all die of thirst.”
He looked out over the tents, then turned to Oz again. “Sorry to lay this at your feet. Are you and your men up for this?”
“I don’t think we have a choice. If nobody goes, we all die. If whoever goes doesn’t make it, we all die. Adhe and I know how to stay quiet, so we might have a chance.”
Capussia reached out his hand. Oz shook it.
“You know how much rides on this. Leave tonight, that will be the best chance to slip through unnoticed. Now let me explain what we know of the other two camps’ locations.”
***
Akuia found her husband Mezugenos at a small camp fire, warming his chilled hands. He was full of anger at the aggressive Romans, as was she. In early spring, the enemy had sent a tax collector and several soldiers to the clan’s two small towns, stating the clan’s territory officially belonged to the Roman Province of Hispania Ulterior, meaning it owed taxes.
She smiled. It had not ended well for the arrogant publicani and his men. Would the man still insist on them paying their taxes from the afterlife? True, there were Celtici clans east of here paying tribute to the hated Romans. But not us, never us.
Her leather boot came down on a small twig and snapped it. Mezugenos jerked around with his hand on his sword handle. A moment later he smiled at her. She knew he was proud of her part in their successful ambush, where they wiped out most of the camp troops. I hope if we kill enough of them they will never come back.
He touched her arm. “I am the envy of all men. I still don’t know why a beautiful woman like you married this ugly scoundrel.” He pulled her close for a quick kiss. “But I’m not complaining.” She smiled back at him, fire building up inside her. “Do you think we could ask somebody else to take over our watch…?” he continued.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” she answered him with a wide grin. “As would I,” she added, pulling her husband close for another kiss. “Let’s find somebody to help us out.” She put her arm around him to guide him towards one of the bigger camp fires where a young woman stood outlined in front of the fire. “Hello there, Keka, I have a favor to ask. Do you have sentry duty tonight?” The woman shook her head. “No? Could you cover for Mezugenos tonight?”
“That depends. What’s in it for me?” The young woman replied with a hint of a smile.
“How about I’ll take your next two sentry duties? Plus, some of our ham to sweeten the deal.”
Akuia knew the woman couldn’t resist their smoked ham and chuckled at Keka’s sudden enthusiasm. She nodded before pulling her husband along.
***
Ozalkis closed in on the Sentry. He had shot at many riders during the battle, and he was sure he had killed several of them. But this was something else entirely, close and personal. He observed the woman from the darkness around the fire and realized how young she was.
She looks no different than the local women around our big camp back in Corduba. In fact, she looks a lot like the girl Gulussa likes so much. He knew he had no choice. He needed to do this, so they could get away and survive. He stepped in to put his hand over the Celtici woman’s mouth from behind. How he had hoped that they could slip through undetected, but the enemy had established a decent gridwork of guards and sentries.
Merda! He loathed himself as he slid his knife over her throat. He suppressed the sickness in his stomach, and the urge to cry. I need to think of my men, and Adhe. When he returned to where he had left the squad he could not find his voice. He gestured instead for them to follow, motioning for Adhe to take the rear. They were inching forward, changing directions several times when hearing voices or seeing lights in the distance until he found neither. He figured they were through the enemy lines. The next challenge was to cover their tracks since they would be hunted soon enough.
He took a branch from the ground. “Adhe, you lead for a while,” he whispered. “Go off on an angle from here and change directions for a bit, but always get back to following the moon. Let’s go, we need to be as far away from here as we can when the sun comes up.” He turned around and walked backwards after the men while swiping their footprints. The path behind him looked clean in the moonlight, but he doubted it would hold up in daylight.
They made it down a ravine and into a small creek. Adhe had them wade downstream through the water for a while. Good boy.
Oz dropped the branch. He wondered and worried about Adhe. They had trained for many months now, but actual fighting and killing was a whole different thing. Seeing men cut to pieces that you’ve talked to and joked with, their bodies and body parts left rotting in front of the fort, affected them all. He had thought himself numb since the loss of his wife and family. Now he knew there had still been something left intact deep inside of him, and it had just shattered to pieces.
***
He counted the nights in his head. After tonight it will have been seven days since we left the fort.
The distance could have been traveled directly in two days, but with the Celtici patrols out and about they had to change directions frequently. Oz led his squad through another rocky ravine to hide their path, which had worked so far, but they had two random close encounters with Celtic search parties. Was this to be the third time? He heard the noise of a large group close by.
“Hide!” He hissed at his men. They all scrambled into bushes and thickets, trying to blend in as much as possible. Except for one of his friends that was still clearly visible. “Massi! Move farther back!” he hissed. Better, nothing left now but to wait.
The noise grew and he wondered. Could it be? Was that clanking of shields and sword sheaths on chainmail familiar? A single legionary hesitantly moved out of the trees fifty feet away from them. The man looked around as if scouting ahead for a bigger group. A second legionary left the woods a few feet from the first.
“We made it!” Oz stood up and raised his right hand in greeting. The men around him came forward as well.
“Greetings, friends!” he shouted. “You can’t imagine how glad we are to see you. We are auxiliaries with what’s left of the second cohort. We need to talk to whoever’s in charge.”
I hope it’s not too late yet.
***
Akuia led her horse as fast as she could. Most of the small group of disheartened survivors around her were too exhausted for anything but stumbling forward. The sun would set soon, and they could get some rest, though she knew she would not easily go to sleep after today.
The noise of fighting had woken her in her husband’s arms at first daylight. The Romans had come running up in force thro
ugh the forest and caught her people unprepared. The lookouts able to warn them of approaching forces had covered the access road—nobody had been prepared for long battle lines of Roman legionaries hurrying through the woods. The slaughter she had witnessed had been horrible. My Mezugenos, stabbed and trampled.
At that point, she had decided to run, grabbing the first horse she found and not looking back. Joining with several other survivors on her way north, the small band had headed back to their main camp to find it under siege by another group of Romans. They turned to ride west, away from the hated aggressors and their province.
“Let’s stop here!” she called out at a small copse of woods with a stream. Getting off her horse, she was exhausted enough not to care if the others would follow her example. After loosely tying her reins to a bush she walked to a tall chestnut tree, turned and slid down the trunk. Mezugenos’ last moment flashed through her mind again, but she resolutely pushed the thoughts aside. I cannot get bogged down now, I need to keep my wits.
She folded her hands over her stomach and watched the few retched surviving clan members settle around her. Her husband was gone, but there was still hope and a need to fight, thanks to the child growing inside her belly. My love, may you live on in our son or daughter.
691 AUC (63 BC), summer
Heraklion, Crete, Roman Province of Crete et Cyrene
Nicolaos looked up from his ledger to see his favorite older brother standing in the doorway of the slave trading office. He jumped up from his stool. “What are you doing here? Come on in! What brings you to Heraklion? Can I get you something? A cup of water perhaps?” Nico babbled in excitement. He had not seen any of his family for many months, and here was Penthylos!
“Hello little brother! I decided to kill two birds with one stone, checking the local markets and compare them to ours in Oaxos. It’s clear we could get a lot more money for our wool and cheese if I can talk father into bringing them here. Plus, I couldn’t wait to see how you are doing. It’s been a whole year since you started as Zenodoros’ apprentice.”
Nico had left his home last year at the age of fifteen to come to Heraklion, one of two port cities feeding the ancient city of Knossus, to learn the slave trade from a distant relation on his mother’s side.
“So far, father was right. It’s never boring and it pays well, or it will soon enough once I am no longer considered a mere apprentice. I am quite happy with my new life; Knossus, Heraklion, and Amnisos together are at least five times bigger than Oaxos, and there is so much to do and explore here. How long will you stay? Can I take you to one of the many eateries here? They have all kinds of foods.” Nico was too excited to wait for answers.
Penthylos held up his hand and laughed. “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed, Nico. I can stay the night before traveling back. So, I am yours if you want to give me a tour of the area.”
“Great! It’s nearly lunch time. Let me go find Zenodoros to tell him that I need the afternoon off.” Nico ran through the doorway of the offices in the main slave market building. He was back within two minutes. “Let’s go! There is so much to show, I don’t even know where to start. There’s a huge library that’s open to all citizens and freemen, and it is located next to one of three separate theaters, each specialized in one of the main styles, meaning there is one doing only comedy, another satyr plays, and a third tragedies. If we still have time after that, there are all the stores with exotic goods we can browse.”
They walked out the main colonnade into the slave market itself.
“I have to admit I didn’t think the slave trade was this big here,” Penthylos said, indicating the size of the huge open market square containing many platforms where slaves were presented for sale.
“Zenodoros said that our market’s trade volume is close behind that of Delos and Rhodus. The three cities are in competition for the slavers to bring their wares. That means we have a lot of pirates come through,” Nico replied.
Penthylos made a face as if he had bit into a sour lemon. “I guess I knew that on some level, but it’s wrong to buy and sell people that were free like us not so long ago.” He took a deep breath. “I am sorry, I don’t want to start an argument. Let’s enjoy our afternoon. So, where to next?”
“Would you like to try Egyptian food? Yes? I can’t wait till you see the dishes they serve, come on!” Nico took his brother by the hand to pull him along, right through the open plaza dividing the slave market from an area with decent shops and cheap eateries.
***
Two months had passed since his brother’s visit and Nico often thought of the evening. He still missed his family, though Zenodoros had given him more important tasks since, like writing contracts and drawing signs for the slaves to wear around their necks in the market square to clearly advertise their skills and attributes.
Nico walked up to the slave pens to interview the latest batch of newcomers that his boss had just bought for sale. Zenodoros came into the holding area behind him “Ah, Nico! Are you ready to process this lot?”
“Yes, great uncle. I’ll ask them about their specialties.”
“Good, good. Just remember they are property, nothing more, nothing less. An investment that needs to be cared for until we sell them.” The old man patted Nico’s shoulder. “I guess I better go and talk to our auctioneer. He has a good voice, but now wants more money for it. We’ll see about that,” Zenodoros added with a cackle.
Nico watched the man shuffle out before he turned back to the slave pen. He walked to the small bench and table in the corner of the room and nodded to the guard.
“They all have separate irons?” He asked the man. The guard nodded. “then please bring them one after the other.” Nico sat down with his wax tablet to take notes.
“Go over to the table and talk to the young master!” He heard the guard command. He looked up to see the first slave arrive, a man perhaps a couple of years older than himself. His heart fluttered as he studied him, realizing how attractive he was with his chiseled chin, unruly near-black hair and dark brown eyes that looked at him warmly despite the situation. He looked down at his tablet and took a deep breath.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
“Timon. My name is Timon, son of…” The young man stopped when Nico raised his hand.
“Just your name.” He cleared his throat. “Where are you from?”
“I grew up in a small town outside of Smyrna.”
Nico jotted down Smyrna. “What are your skills? What services are you qualified for?”
“I had good teachers and tutors,” Timon answered in his educated voice. “I know all the classics. I have most recently served as a household tutor for a rich family to educate their two young sons.”
Nico scratched on the tablet. He was intrigued and would have liked to ask more. Still, he knew better than to get involved.
“Have you been sick recently?”
“Not for a while.”
“That should be enough.” He turned to the guard. “Next!”
***
Nico marched the new eight slaves around the market square as a chained group to gather potential customers that would follow him to Zenodoros’ auction platform. A local man he had seen frequently at the market over the last days stopped him.
“Hello, I’m Parmenides. This one’s sign says that he has experience as a tutor and knows all the classics.” He pointed at Timon. “I am in dire need of a teacher for my own children. Is there any chance I could buy him directly? I am not after a discount, I am willing to pay a fair price. I just don’t want to leave without him. I’ve been looking every day for a week, and he’s the first one that seems like a decent specimen.”
Nico’s initial reaction was to say no, since he knew that Zenodoros frowned upon direct sales. Yet, when Nico followed the man’s gaze to Timon, he quickly decided otherwise.
“I am not supposed to ever sell directly, so please don’t make me regret this. Why don’t you meet me at the auction bui
lding in a few minutes? When I am done with the walk we can go to one of the backrooms to discuss what you have in mind.”
He brought all the slaves back to the slave pens in the building close to the auction platform, except for Timon. “Remove his chain but keep his shackles on.” He commanded the guard. He grabbed the little box with his scribe set and bid the young man to follow. When they were out of hearing range of the slave pens and the guards, Nico slowed to look back at Timon. What am I doing?
“I really like you. I agreed to talk to the man about selling you directly to keep you here in Knossos. I don’t know how you feel about that.” Nico avoided Timon’s eyes.
“I can see that you’re not like the other slave traders. Your heart is not hardened yet, and you still care, though you hide it well.”
Nico took a deep breath before he looked back, right into the man’s dark brown eyes where he saw warmth and tenderness. Timon’s smile melted his heart.
“If you sell me to the man from earlier, there are no guarantees he will treat me well or ever let me leave his house.” Timon sighed, and his smile slipped. “Hestia knows, I have some experience with bad treatment. Do you know much about the buyer?”
“Not really,” Nico answered. “Just that he’s a local. I’ve not heard anything about how he treats his slaves. Of course, I would only hear about bad treatment happening in public.”
Timon nodded. “Alright. It might still be a better shot than waiting for the auction. Thank you for trying to help me.”
They walked down the long hallway to the reception area in the front of the building where Parmenides waited anxiously. Nico waved him in. “Follow me.”
They walked down another hallway and he opened the door to a small room stuffed with a table and two benches.
“Please sit down, Parmenides. Water?” He poured a couple of cups from the fresh pitcher on the table.
