DISCLAIMER: From the small effort I made to research this time period, I’m certain all history majors will judge this story complete and total fiction. This would bother me more if it were not a work of, well, fiction. Yes, I could have tweaked instead of twisted what we know about antiquity. It probably would have made very little difference to the main concepts of the tale. But, this story is most unusual for me. It is coming to me as it is regardless of what history tells us about the past. Perhaps, I’m channeling a distant ancestor tired of our history being ignored. Maybe she’d like the Celts to get their due. We saved civilization but nobody seems to care what we were doing before that. I mean, I’m sure we were busy building our own civilization before we were consumed by a cultured carried on a tide of faith.
FEEDBACK: Tell me you love it, hate it, or could not care any less… p.phair@comcast.net
WARNINGS: Many of my customary vices; all sorts of sex, rape, violence, foul language, tortured history, evil, good, wicked awesome good, theft, lies, transgressions, slavery, war, hunger, despair, and all around very barbaric behavior.
PROMISE: As long as the ancient Celt haunting my dreams continues to tell me this story, I’ll keep writing it down. This is what any generation would call a…
Fair Trade
by phair
Chapter 1
A steady wind from the east blew Ainninn’s jet black hair back from her face. The long braids whipped wildly behind her. She studied the sea crashing against the ship’s hull with more than a passing amusement. The waves seemed to be in precise harmony with the oars slicing into the water’s surface to thrust the craft onward to Rome. Every stroke carried her further away from home. She ground her teeth to hold back the brooding despair the distance caused her lonely heart. Never before had she traveled so far from her own hearth. She promised herself that should the goddess allow her safe return, she would never again leave the isle of her birth; Iwernia.
“I’ll be sick if we don’t see land soon,” the deep voice of her traveling companion boomed beside her rousing her from her bleak thoughts.
Ainninn allowed a small grin to grace her lips as she replied, “Finntan, don’t you mean, you’ll be sick again?”
His laughter echoed on the wind. “This has been a horrid trip. What has not escaped my belly the usual way burns a path straight back the route it entered me by. I’ll be happy to set both feet on dry soil.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear his next remark, “Even if the soil be fouled by those stinking, pukes of Roman curs.”
“They may rule the world, Finntan, but there’s no worry any here will understand your contempt. Of course, if you whisper so you can stand close to your chieftain’s daughter then continue the measure. Your bulk blocks the wind some, letting the meager sun warm me a bit,” she said in all seriousness but her eyes flashed with joy at the blush her teasing brought to his ruddy cheeks.
Finntan straightened up and glanced around at the rows of men pulling on the oars. Some were chained as convicts should be but others were newly freed slaves earning enough coins to begin their lives again. The few Roman soldiers present were more for a show of protection for the courier, who brought Ainninn’s father the invitation to Senator Paullus summer villa, than a fierce military detachment bent on conquest. Even the courier was atypical of Roman fame. The dowdy, older man was nothing more than a genteel Greek slave.
“Are you sure none here understands our speech?” The big man shook his head in disgust. “I thought they claimed to be a learned bunch.”
“They are,” Ainninn reassured him. “But, none would bother to learn our words. They think us nothing more than barking hounds.”
Finntan turned angry quickly. “They must be taught to respect us. This is why I went to your father and begged him to let me slaughter the fiends in their sleep. Or better, meet them on the field to split their heads. Let their tiny brains and cold blood nourish the grass. When spring comes, the game would relish such a feast. They’d grow wild enough on it to fire the spirits of the oldest wretch among us.”
“No, my friend. The fields would be drenched in your blood and father’s and every last one of our people. Not one of us would escape the Roman sword.” Ainninn clarified, “I would not be here if there were any other means. To resist them invites the fate of Iceni.”
“Boudica was a mad woman! Never advance on the invaders. Make them come to you,” Finntan spat back.
“See,” Ainninn said with a chuckle, “we are in agreement. We made the Romans come to us and now we go to negotiate. Finntan, I’d rather travel to see Paullus standing on the ship’s deck than chained to an oar, a branded enemy of the Roman state. We must pick our battles well, my friend. If not, we will surely be the ones fertilizing the grassy fields for the spring game.”
The big man stayed quiet. His eyes darted between Ainninn and the distant horizon. She reached out and patted his shoulder to soften his obvious fiery.
“Save your anger for a fight that may still draw to our shores. There is no promise tomorrow will end well. Paullus wants something he feels he can not take from us. He’d not try to court dredges like us if there were another means to his ends.” Ainninn waited for Finntan to look her in the eye, “Romans are sneaky in the best of situations. I can not imagine how tricky they will be when desperate. I wish father came instead of me. I worry I’m not clever enough to match wits with Paullus.”
Finntan snorted a laugh before he spoke, “You? You not able to outmaneuver a Roman? Ha, I say right to your face. You’d be able to trip up Ernmas herself!”
Ainninn could not contain her own chuckle. “You blaspheme the goddess like she can not hear you. Gnim will not save you from her wrath. Watch your tongue lest she strikes you low.”
“I’ll just have to trust you’ll keep me from harm by claiming me in your good graces,” he replied.
“I’ll see what I can do but in the mean time don’t tempt your luck.”
Finntan thought a moment before perking up. “You said tomorrow. Are we that close? How can you tell? Does the goddess whisper in your ears so far from our home?”
“Oh yes, she comes to me each night to tuck me into my bunk and tell me of what’s to come on the morning tide,” Ainninn teased.
“More likely that than you looking out into the great wet nothingness before us and spotting land between the waves,” Finntan grumbled.
“Or,” she winked as she spoke, “it could be I asked the ship’s captain when we’d be ashore.”
“Yes, a clever one you are, Ainninn. Clever, in deeds and actions.”
She did not reply. Instead, she offered a reverent prayer to the goddess that her friend was right and she’d be capable of playing peacemaker with a Roman Senator.
* * *
“You are certain this is not Rome itself?” Finntan questioned as he scratched his bearded chin.
Ainninn drew her own astonished eyes from the lush vista beneath the balcony to answer, “The Greek said we were still more than a day’s travel from the heart of Rome. This is Paullus’ country villa which grows the grapes to make the wine which fills his coffers with gold.”
“Country villa? Look at the tended fields and stone cut homes and the people! Have you ever seen so many bending to the same task in one place. All this,” Finntan waved his arms wide at the expanse before them, “all of it belongs to one man?”
“It is unimaginable yet we both see it at once so it must be real,” Ainninn answered rationally but she too was awed by the scene. “I wonder how huge the city must be if they believe this is nothing more than quiet farmland.”
“It must be as broad as the ocean with men and beasts elbow to elbow.” Finntan shook his head in disapproval.
“Whatever business this Roman has with us, we should finish it here. I’d rather not see their center. I worry madness would follow.”
A soft cough behind the pair startled them to seize their weapons from their scabbards. Ainninn held hers in a defensive posture but Finntan prepared to strike. He checked his blade inches from the neck of a dark skinned woman dressed only from the waist down in material so shear it was meaningless. Her fully exposed breasts were firmly rounded yet her passive nipples were unmoved by the imposing threat looming before them.
“A humble pardon but my Lord has sent me to announce your baths are prepared,” the woman voice was soft even speaking the gutteral language of Ainninn’s people. “There is food and wine for your pleasure.”
Finntan lowered his weapon and asked Ainninn without taking his eyes from the woman, “Didn’t you say none would know our words?”
“I did,” Ainninn answered with more than a little confusion. “In fact, I was sent simply because I was best among us forcing out Greek mumbles with my tongue. Had my father known how well the house of Paullus spoke our common words, I’m sure he’d be here and I’d be stirring my pot for the evening meal.”
“Pardon, once more. My Lord does not wish to converse in other than Greek so you are well chosen to meet with him. However, he thought for your comfort a slave able to understand your own speech would be welcome.” The woman was careful not to lift her gaze to meet Ainninn’s own.
Ainninn cringed at the notion the woman before her was property. The concept was not alien to her people. In fact, had her father not possessed her mother she would never have known the world. But, the memories of the scars her mother bore still turned Ainninn’s belly even now so many years after they laid the woman deep in the dirt.
“You’re from the land of the Ptolemy,” Ainninn stated more than asked as she sheathed her weapon.
“Yes Domina,” the woman said respectfully so she was surprised by the sudden hardening of Ainninn’s features.
Ainninn shook her head and pointed at the slave, “I’m not you mistress. He is not your master. Do not address us so.”
“She means no harm,” Finntan turned to calm Ainninn after replacing his sword in the scabbard. “She must show respect or they’ll discipline her. Don’t let your will play out on her back.”
“I won’t have it, Finntan!” Ainninn’s anger flared. “If she can not used my name then let her call me nothing!”
“Please,” the slave interrupted. “I can honor your wish to a point. If my Lord is present, I will defer to his rule. If it is only we three, I will be bound by your demands.”
Finntan smiled broadly, “Nothing could be more fair, Ainninn. She barters with your good sense. Justice must run in your mother’s bloodline.”
Ainninn’s temper cooled a bit but she scolded her friend, “Leave that long suffering wretch to her rest and not trouble her specter with this world.”
“Never forget, the wretch ended her days with a grin,” Finntan countered. “Should we all know such joy.”
“I beg your indulgence,” the slave gently interrupted. “The baths are prepared and can wait your leisure but the food is warm and the wine has a pleasant chill. It would be best to partake sooner than later.”
“Come now, girl, let her lead us to a scrap of food and a basin to rinse the salty air from our faces,” Finntan cajoled. “You’ll feel the better for it, I’m sure of this.”
Ainninn nodded her head to the slave, “Shows us the way. We’ll follow and behave as guests do.”
The woman grinned a bit. She understood Ainninn was trying to reassure her but was too stubborn to do so openly. She decided it was best to simply lead the pair and not provide the tour her master suggested until after they dined. Perhaps then, they’d be too tired to argue or wave their swords around.
“And, the master calls my manners savage,” she thought to herself as they traveled along the cool hall and down a winding stairway.
“Damned heat,” Finntan grumbled when they stepped into the courtyard. “The sun has doubled its efforts to cook our hides since we left the boat.”
The dark woman turned and encouraged him to continue to follow her, “The thermae is just over here. Not far at all. You’ll be more than happy once you settle into the bath.”
Finntan stopped dead in his tracks. “Settle into? You mean get into the water?”
The woman nodded.
“Strike that notion down right there. I’ll not step into water. I’m no fish. I’ll sink to the bottom like a stone.”
Ainninn laughed and walked by him. “You must face your fear, man. Romans will not suffer your stench. They are a fastidious bunch and demand daily cleansing.”
“No, you lie!” Finntan followed if only to hear her answer.
“Bear me out, woman. Tell him I’m true,” Ainninn said as she strode by the slave and entered the baths first.
“It is required,” the woman stated simply and followed Ainninn’s lead.
“I’d say ha to her face but she’s turned and left me only her behind to mock. No fun in that,” Finntan muttered before taking up the rear.