To Love Again - Bertrice Small [72]
She thought back over the many days that had passed since she had lain in labor at Antonia’s villa. The last thing she remembered was the cry of a baby as she sank into unconsciousness. When she came vaguely to her senses, she was in a dirty room in a strange house. The woman who brought her food told her she was in Londinium, which amazed Cailin. She had heard of Londinium, but had never thought to see it in her lifetime. As it turned out, she did not see it, for when she asked what she was doing in this place, she was told that the lady Antonia had sold her to Simon, the slave merchant, and that shortly she would be transported to Gaul and beyond.
“But I am no slave!” Cailin protested.
“That is what the lady Antonia said you would say,” the woman replied sourly. “She says you’re real troublesome and have ideas above your station, girl. Why, you even seduced her late husband, and bore his bastard. Well, she’ll have no more of you, wench.”
“Where is my baby?” Cailin demanded.
“The brat died, I’m told,” was the cold reply.
Cailin began to weep hysterically. “I do not believe you!” she protested. Before she knew it, a bitter liquid was being forced down her throat and she was sliding into darkness again.
For days afterward she drifted between reality and nightmare. When she finally was allowed to come to herself again, she was in Gaul, traveling south with a shipment of other slaves down the backbone of the land, toward the Mediterranean Sea. Not long after, one particularly beautiful young woman attempted to escape, for unlike many of the slaves traveling with them, she wore no collar, nor was she chained. She was quickly recaptured, being unfamiliar with the land.
The slave master debated on her punishment. To beat her would mark her fair skin, and that same fair skin was an asset that could bring him a pretty penny for the girl. He elected to make his point by raping her, which he did before the entire party of travelers. “Run again, bitch,” he threatened as he jammed himself into her, “and I’ll give you to my men! Perhaps you’d like that, wench, eh?”
The look of terror on all the women’s faces told the slave master that he would have no more difficulty with any of them. Indeed, after that Cailin went out of her way to make herself invisible. She allowed her hair to go unwashed and uncombed. Her tunica, which was the only garment she possessed, grew more worn with each passing day. She did not dare wash it for fear that it would disintegrate and leave her naked, like some of the other women. She did not expect she would be supplied with other clothing if she lost what she possessed.
When they reached the coast, the slaves were separated, some being put aboard ship for a town called Carthage, while Cailin and the rest were being sent to a place called Constantinople. It was, she later learned by listening to others, the great capital city of the Eastern Empire. The male slaves in her group were chained to the oars of the galley. They would be sold when and if they reached their destination, but in the meantime they would provide the manpower to get there. The women were penned below in barely habitable quarters; a square space with no sleeping accommodations but the floor; a wooden bucket for their needs; little light, and less air.
Each night, the first mate would arrive grinning, and select several of the women, whom he would take away. They returned with the morning, usually laughing, with extra food or water for themselves, which they usually chose not to share. Their own survival was paramount. Cailin instinctively hid herself in the darkest corner when the first mate came. She did not need to be told what the women were doing, or why they were given gifts. She grew thinner with the meager rations supplied her, but somehow remained alive to reach Constantinople.
The morning of their arrival, the slave master came to carefully look over the women. He selected several who appeared more attractive than the others. They were immediately removed. Some of those not chosen tried to plead with the slave