Killer of Men - Christian Cameron [58]
I broke his nose before he got me in a hold and pounded my head against the barn’s wall. And yet, we were not really angry. But we both missed work because we had hurt each other, and because of it, and because Grigas reported us, we were brought before the chief overseer, Amyntas. Amyntas was a Macedonian, and he was a hard man, but fair, we all thought.
He looked us over. ‘Why did you fight?’ he asked.
I was ready for him. ‘Over a girl,’ I said. I looked sullenly at Silkes, who glared back.
‘Which girl?’ Amyntas asked.
‘Sandra, in the kitchen.’ She and I got along. I knew she wouldn’t talk.
He nodded. ‘I’ve heard that you two were discussing escape.’ He looked at me. I was a Greek. I didn’t flinch.
But Silkes blushed. Amyntas shrugged. ‘You are a stupid Thracian. Why did you fight him?’
Silkes looked at me. ‘He hit me,’ he said. ‘And the girl.’
He was the worst liar I’d ever met. No wonder they call Thracians ‘barbarians’.
Amyntas nodded again. He had a table in the farmhouse that he used as a desk, and it was piled with scrolls. He pointed at me. ‘Five blows with a riding whip,’ he said. He pointed at Silkes. ‘Ten blows – five for damage to your master’s property, and five for attempting to incite escape. You will be punished this evening. Go to work.’
The waiting was the worst – and the humiliation. Everyone came to watch, and Grigas stood at the front, openly gloating.
I took the five blows well enough. I probably cried out, but I didn’t scream or cry. Silkes took his ten in total silence.
We were whipped naked. After I took my five, Sandra handed me my chiton.
Grigas laughed. ‘I guess we know who has the power here,’ he said.
He was too smug. I half-turned, as if to talk to Sandra, and then I hit him with the full force of my fist.
I hurt him, too.
I received ten more blows from the whip.
As Grigas was still unconscious, I felt I had won.
The next morning, I stood before Amyntas, alone. He was behind the desk. I was in front of it. He had a bronze stylus in his hand and two sets of wax tablets open.
‘You have injured the slave Grigas,’ he said.
‘Good,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘I begin to feel that you are rebellious. Listen to me, young man. Do not choose this road. Master and Mistress have plans for you – plans that will help you all your life. If you choose to be rebellious, I will have to inform them. They will sell you. Is that what you want?’
I kept my eyes down. ‘No,’ I said.
‘You want to rebel. Please do not do it. You dislike Grigas. He is useful to me and I will protect him. You will treat him with respect and that is all. Am I clear?’ Amyntas got up.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Good. Go back to work,’ he said.
That was it. Grigas gloated, and I took it. Silkes was disgusted, and ceased to be my friend. A month later, he ran. I never heard what happened to him. Well, that’s not exactly true, but let’s save that bit, shall we?
Grigas was still there, though – gloating. He was beginning to have a belly – a fifteen-year-old slave with a belly. And he began to force the girls.
I was healed, and had gone back to riding and driving. I could pretend that I was no longer part of the daily rhythm of the kitchen. What was it to me? But it hurt me, each time I had to turn away from that little worm. Each time I saw him fondle a girl, each time he made a better slave knuckle under.
But I knew that I was not going to be a charioteer, and that put me in a bad position, as a slave. If I failed as a charioteer – and as I say, Scyles knew from the second week that I lacked the love of horses – then I could be resold for another task.
More slaves arrived – a new cook, a pair of horse-breakers and some field slaves. I saw that Grigas was going to own them – that they accepted his vicious authority. And I saw his effect on the place. When I’d arrived, people were, for the most part, happy. No one was happy any more.
I thought it over quite a bit. Scyles caught me at it. One day – late spring, almost a year since I’d become a slave – he watched me for a moment and then shook his head. ‘You think too much,