Roman Enslavement

All original and copyrighted

Roman Enslavement
Part Fouy Scy Scribe

They paused at a fruit vendor\'s stand and Lady Dramilla began selecting the plumpest peaches and figs he had. Mozelle continued eating, then paused as she noticed a couple of ragged urchins watching her. The eldest, a boy of about ten, reminded her a little of Antonius, but much thinner. He had his arm around a tiny girl of no more than six. Both ofm wem were grubby, dressed in ragged bits of cast off clothing that had never fit them properly, and they were barefooted. Their eyes were enormous as they followed each motion of her hand to her mouth.

She swallowed, then tugged on the chain lightly. When Rentic looked at her questioningly she said, \"Hey you, is all of this thing mine?\"

He nodded, curiously. \"Save, eat.\" He made a seesawing motion of his hand to indicate, \'whatever\'.

Mozelle started to break the loaf in half, then took note of how gently the older boy was cradling his sister. She held out the entire loaf. Their already large eyes grew enormous. The little girl started to reach out, but her brother stopped her. He drew himself up with dignity. \\\\\"What must we give?\"\\\\

Mozelle looked at Rentic questioningly, obviously expecting him to translate. He didn\'t have to, of course, since she was just a slave, but he did. \"What you want?\"

\"Oh.\" Mozelle smiled brightly, pointing to her own lips, and held out the bread again.

The little girl moved quickly, snatching the bread into her own arms, as if expecting it to be pulled away. Mozelle thought sadly that there just might be people who would amuse themselves by teasing the children with the promise of food, then drawing it away.

When Mozelle didn\'t grab for the bread, or make any comment or protest, the little girl peeked at her over the loaf, and gave her a sweet, tentative smile. Mozelle\'s smile broadened into a grin. She clapped her hands, covered her eyes with them, then peeped over her fingers at the girl, making a sound of pleased surprise. The child laughed, a thin, silvery sound.

Rentic saw the older boy stiffen in something like astonishment. He looked down at his sister, expression melting into one of tenderness. Then he looked up at the woman, who was regarding him over the screen of her fingers, and he smiled also. It was strained, as if he were unused to it, but it was genuine.

Mozelle clapped her hands lightly, as if applauding. Then she pointed at them, made eating motions, and shooed. The message was clear. Go somewhere and eat. The two children melted away into the crowd.

Mozelle turned back to find herself the center of attention for Lady Dramilla, Rentic, and the fruit vendor. She crossed her arms defensively. \"Well, you said it was mine.\"

Lady Dramilla shrugged. \\\\\"I can see I\'ll never be able to give her charge in a kitchen. She\'ll give away all the stores to the first beggar that comes along.\"\\\\ But she didn\'t sound displeased. And she had Rentic hand over a small bundle of the best ripe figs, telling him to instruct her to eat those herself.

None of the mortals noticed the woman with the sharp features who watched them from atop one of the market\'s pillars, or the young man who lounged atop another pillar closeby. Discordia scowled, pointing at the woman at the end of the chain. \\\\\"What did I tell you? Vesta\'s.\"\\\\

\\\\\"What makes you say that?\"\\\\ Somnus was genuinely interested. Discordia\'s \'logic\' could be so convoluted sometime.

\\\\\"She\'s hungry. I know that. She\'s given food, and what does she do? Does she sanely gobble it down before it can be taken away? Does she shrewdly horde it for other, leaner times? No! She gives it away to some puleing brats she\'s never seen before. Protecting the young, that has Vesta all over it, the boring twat.\"\\\\

\\\\\"Discordia, surely you\'re not still angry with her? The poor bitch only slept on your alter. You\'ve turned her life completely upside down, thrown her into a situation that would have had even your most devoted followers reduced to shaking, sniveling bundles...\"\\\\

\\\\\"And she has the nerve to cope with it! It\'s an insult.\"\\\\

\\\\\"Leave her alone, Discordia.\"\\\\

The woman scowled. \\\\\"For now. But she\'d damn well better have a little chaos and confusion soon, or I will be very annoyed.\"\\\\ Somnus grimaced. Discordia happy was bad enough, Discordia annoyed was downright perilous.

Mozelle, oblivious to the fact that she was the center of attention for two deities, enjoyed the figs. She hadn\'t eaten any for years, but her grandmother had owned a sturdy fig tree in her backyard when Mozelle was a child. It always bore a heavy crop. She\'d help her grandmother collect them, to be turned into jams and preserves, but there were always plenty of the heavy, syrupy red fruits to be eaten out of hand as she picked. For a moment or two, they almost distracted her from the constant cold circle around her neck.

They moved away from the bustle of the center of town, out into broader, quieter streets. Finally they entered one with mprempressive limestone face. The inside was cool and dim, with tiled floors. It would have echoed, but the walls were draped with pretty hangings and tapestries.

The woman spoke to the man, then swept off down a corridor. He led Mozelle back another way, into rooms that were smaller, and not so graciously decorated. *Ah. Roman version of \'below stairs\'*

They finally stopped in a room with a large, open hearth. There were free standing wooden cabinets, and the ceiling was festooned with bunches of herbs, onions and potatos in string nets, strings of garlic, loops of sausages, and several unidentified items she later learned were cured and dried meats. A thickset, red face woman was at a large, scrubbed table, vigorously scraping the skin of a freshly plucked chicken. The chicken still had head, claws, and innards. *Oh, gross. Nature food.*

She looked up as they came in, giving Mozelle a not unfriendly look, and Rentic a distinctly affectionate one. \\\\\"What have you there, my love?\"\\\\

\\\\\"Mistress bought her to help with the young ones. I\'m not entirely sure she was wise. This is a raw one, but she seems to love children well enough. Gave her food to two urchins in the market, and took a beating for a child she didn\'t even know.\"\\\\

\\\\\"Is that so? Well, then, sounds as if she\'s worth having. Hello, girl.\"\\\\

\\\\\"She only speaks my language, after a fashion.\"\\\\

\\\\\"So? Well, another reason for me to love her, eh?\"\\\\ She smiled at the wary looking woman, and nodded.

The woman studied her, then lifted her hand and waved her fingers slowly. \"Hello.\"

\\\\\"I\'d guess that\'s a greeting?\"\\\\ \"Huh-loa.\"

Rentic spoke up. \"This Malanda. She top slave under me.\"

\"Second in command. I dig.\"

Rentic frowned. \"No dig. You help care for child.\"

\"Oh, so I\'m going to be a babysitter? Cool, I can deal with that. Why not? I considered being a nanny back... before. Yeah, I think I can do that.\"

\\\\\"Malanda, dear, get some of your special balm, will you? That animal Tinactus beat her badly, and I\'m sure she\'s in pain. A little of your ointment should work wonders.\"\\\\

\\\\\"Certainly. I just mixed up a fresh batch yesterday. It\'s in the still room.\"\\\\ She bustled thorugh one of two doors in the back of the room.

Rentic gestured at her. \"Take off.\"

Her expression froze, eyes narrowing. \"No.\"

He blinked at the flat denial. \"Just...\" he tugged at the upper part of his own garments. \"Off.\"

\"Fuck no.\"

Malanda returned bearing a large, shallow bowl. It was full of a faintly green, waxy liquid so thick that it was almost a paste. Rentic looked at her. \\\\\"She won\'t let me treat her.\"\\\\

\\\\\"Did you tell her you wanted to soothe her welts, or did you just tell her to strip?\"\\\\

\\\\\"Um, well...\"\\\\

\\\\\"Dolt,\"\\\\ she said mildly. \\\\\"After a spell with Tinactus, I don\'t wonder that she doubts any man who tells her to remove her garments. Explain, and tell her I will help her. Then leave the room.\"\\\\

Rentic said hesitantly. \"Back hurts?\"

She winced at the reminder. \"Duh. Yes, it hurts.\"

Rentic touched the dish Malanda had set on the table. \"Good. Take pain, no poison come.\"

\"Okay, medicine. I understand that. But I\'m not taking my shirt off.\"

Rentic shook his head. \"I go. Malanda, she help. Yes?\"

After a moment of thought, Mozelle nodded grudgingly. Rentic left, happy to turn the new slave over to Malanda. Though he could speak to her, he was a long way from understanding her. His own freedom was many years in the past, and he had a hard time imagining what she must be going through.

With gestures and coaxing noises, Malanda managed to get the woman to shed her top garment. She was quite astounded to see that she wore something underneath, some sort of chest protector, but made of soft, shiny material. It looked like a courtesan\'s garment. But the woman was so matter of fact about it, that she wondered about her first conclusion.

She only agreed to unfasten the odd garment and remove it when she clutched her outer garment to her chest, hiding herself. She really must not have been slave long to still retain such modesty, even with her own sex.

When Malanda saw the woman\'s back, she moaned in sympathy, and cursed the slave trader. The soft white skin was criss-crossed by thick, wide pink welts, decorating her from the top to the base of her spine. Some of the marks licked up on her shoulder, and where they crossed, they deepened to angry red. A few more, and blisters would have popped up, blood would have burst through.

Malanda dipped her fingers in the ointment and, as gently as possible, smoothed it over the wounds.

Mozelle hissed at the contact on her raw skin, but almost immediately some of the pain faided. The stuff was cool almost to the point of coldness, soothing on the false heat caused by the blows. It smelled faintly of mint, and other herbs she couldn\'t identify. When she was done, Malanda tried to disuade her, but she replaced her bra, and redonned her shirt.

More to Come