you want to complain, don’t do it to me.’ Mucius was curt. He had expected to pass us over and return to his legion; now he had to take us on to Boulogne. ‘I’ve got my orders.’
‘Mine come from Neptune.’
‘And mine from Aulus Plautius via his tribune. And he gets his from the Emperor. If you want to argue with him, I don’t. Now, do we get moving or stand here all day?’
The voyage was a nightmare. Even though Mucius kept me with him, I was sick most of the time, and it must have been terrible for those locked in the hold. At Boulogne we were taken to an empty shed and given a meal of beans boiled with turnips and fragments of meat, some bread, and a measure of vinegary wine. The man doling out the food hesitated when he saw me, but Mucius snapped, ‘Give him the same as the rest.’
‘A boy?’
‘A war-captive of the Emperor, and don’t you forget it.’ He had suffered during the voyage and his temper was short. ‘Now get on with it and let’s have less of your mouth!’
I didn’t drink the wine, but gave it instead to a man who had bruised his face when he had fallen in the hold. He took it without thanks and sat, brooding, for the rest of the night.
In the morning we were fed again, told to wash, and then assembled for the inspection of the buyers. They thronged into the shed, some simply curious, others intent on purchase. Among them was a Greek with curled and scented hair, a burly man with scarred hands, and a fussy little person with a cap which had flaps that could be lowered over the ears.
The Greek called out to him as he passed down the line.
‘Don’t take them all, Capaneus. Others have to make a living, and we haven’t all got the backing of the Statilius family.’
‘I’ll take what I need.’
‘But why be so particular? Anything’s good enough to provide a show.’
‘That’s why you’re falling out of favour, Thalidies,’ said the burly man with a laugh. ‘More than one Master of the Games had told me that unless you provide better wares, they’ll not waste their time dealing with you.’
‘Perhaps.’ The Greek shrugged. He had full lips and his fingers looked like worms. ‘They’ll change their minds when the crowd roars and contenders run short. Anyway, Brachus, a tip for your ear. I’m not going to Lyons this time. I’ll leave the market open to you. Just remember the favour when I ask you to accommodate me some other time.’
‘What favour?’ Brachus scowled. ‘The time you do anything to help me is the time I watch for a dagger in the back. Greeks, who can trust them? Hurry now, Capaneus.’
The agent made no comment. He stared at the man to whom I’d given the wine.
‘What were you, chariot or sword?’
The man stared, not understanding the Latin. The agent frowned, suspecting insolence, lifting his hand to signal a guard who stood to one side. He held a whip with lumps of lead knotted into the thong.
I said, quickly, ‘He doesn’t understand you.’
He looked at me in surprise then said, ‘But you do? Good. Ask him the question. What did he use in battle, chariot or sword.’
‘Sword,’ I said immediately.
‘I asked him, not you.’
‘The answer would be the same. He is not a noble and so would have owned no chariot.’
Thrusting himself forward, the Greek touched me, his lips moist, his hands clammy.
‘An unexpected pleasure,’ he purred. ‘A young boy who can talk a civilised language. I think I could use such a lad. Oiled, taught a few of the more tender arts, he could command a fair price in Antioch.’
‘Greeks!’ The burly man spat. ‘You turn a man’s stomach.’
‘Careful, Brachus!’
‘Why? I’m a Roman citizen and as good as any man who walks the earth. You want to bid for the boy? Then name your figure, but by all the gods you’ll not get him cheap!’
His anger was real and I sensed a rivalry of long standing between the two men. Another of the buyers came forward, ran his hands over my shoulders, arms and body, stared into my eyes then shook his head.
‘No. Taming him would take too long. You’re a fool to consider him, Thalidies, he could do your client a serious injury.’
‘Stick to the east if you want perverts,’ advised another. ‘That young barbarian can’t be trusted. What do you know of him, decarus?’
‘He knifed a legionary,’ said Mucius stiffly. ‘It took three to hold him.’
An exaggeration, but it worked. The Greek shrugged and turned away. Brachus remained, his eyes thoughtful. I saw him whisper to Mucius and coins changed hands.
Later, on the way to the auction block, Mucius trod heavily on my foot. I was limping as I mounted the pedestal and a small, crippled boy was of little worth.
Brachus bought me cheap, but he didn’t keep me for long. He sold me to a man who owned land and a villa in Narbonese Gaul.
CHAPTER THREE
Publius Varus Severus was a tall, spare man in his middle forties. His shoulders were stooped, his lips thin, and he walked with a slight limp, the relic of a wound he had received during military service. He was a widower with a son a year older than myself, his other, older son, having died three years earlier. It was for the sake of Macer rather than a need for slaves which made him interested in me.
His villa was at Vienne, which lay to the south of Lyons where Brachus had disposed of the other slaves he had bought. We had travelled fast, yet had been caught by the winter, and I was cold and miserable as we were led into the house.
Severus prodded me as if I had been a horse.
‘He’s fit, Domini,’ said Brachus. ‘Strong bones and muscles and his teeth are sound. Open your mouth, boy.’
Severus nodded as he looked inside. He wore a heavy ring on his hand, the signet of a member of the equestrian order. A knight, he had great local influence and family connections in Rome.
‘From Britain, you say?’
‘Taken during the Emperor’s campaign. He fought like a man and put up such a good show the legionaries spared him. As a soldier yourself, Domini, you can appreciate how they like a display of courage. He’s a little wild, but can be tamed. And he speaks good Latin and knows Greek.’
‘Greek?’
‘Yes.’ Brachus had been pleased at the discovery; it enhanced my value. ‘And he’s tough. He kept up all the time even though his feet were bleeding. You could use him in the fields, but he’d be of greater value in the house. It would be a pity to waste all that education.’
‘Your name, boy?’
I
