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 2
“This flimsy cloth catches and clings,” Finntan grumbled as he pulled the material away from his backside. “I do not like the way it tries to creep into my ass crack. My own clothes never behave in such an intrusive manner. We should have stopped the slave from taking them. We might still catch her if we hurry.”
Ainninn answered firmly so he would not be tempted to ask again. “No, we will not. As you said, the slave must obey her master and he instructed her to prepare us to meet with him. That included bathing, dining, and a change into Roman wear. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll bring our clothes back after she beats them against some rock in some nearby stream the Rome piss in each morning.”
“Clean them or will she bewitch them?” Finntan hissed.
“I never realized how much you fret, Finntan. Come now, you must seem like a brave warrior ready for battle,” Ainninn tried to encourage him with a bit of humor.
Finntan growled back across the foyer as he pulled up to his full height which was a hair or two less than Ainninn’s, “I am prepared for battle always but there are no means on this earth to make ready for the treachery of women.”
Ainninn laughed lightly. She held her arms wide open. Allowing him a full view of her sleek and tall frame garb in the revealing Roman toga. Her body was usually well covered to guard against the cold winds of their home. Yet, her skin maintained a deeply tanned hue which was a testament to her mother’s heritage.
“Do I look treacherous?”
Finntan nodded solemnly. “It is that exact reason why women are so dangerous. The gods have wrapped them in soft and warm skin making them appear harmless to the hapless fellow looking for a wee bit of comfort for his aching, hard cock.”
“My father would cut your tongue out for speaking so boldly,” Ainninn laughed. “You have luck I find your jabbering infinitely amusing.”
The rustling of the drapes drew the pair’s attention to the archway. The dark female slave entered and approached them. Before speaking, she acknowledge Ainninn and Finntan with a low bow. Had she looked up, she would have seen Ainninn wince at the action.
“My pardon but I was sent to see if you are ready for your audience with Quintus,” she said.
Ainninn raised an eyebrow as she asked, “What of Paullus? We came to meet with him.”
“My Master is seated in the Senate still. He remains in Rome longer than he anticipated.”
Finntan’s cheeks flushed as his anger spiked. He was never fully at ease. His quickness to a fight made him a great warrior. However, his nature did not lend itself to diplomacy.
“We travel for a moon and then some. We risk offense to our gods by leaving our lands. We travel the realm of sea demons. I’ve not been between a woman’s thighs since the Romans inflicted this invitation on us. And, he’s not here? A plague to this nation of ignorance.”
“Calm yourself,” Ainninn advised in a low tone. “The woman is not ignorant of us and her due loyalty is to the man holding her leash. Let us not speak so badly of our absent host lest he hear of our idle chatter which may make him less inclined to listen to our serious words.”
The slave eased back to allow them a small amount of privacy. She had no intentions of upsetting her Master’s guests further.
“Woman,” Ainninn called to her, “will Paullus yet meet with us or are we to discuss these matters with his second only?”
Finntan muttered but loud enough for all to hear, “Perhaps, the man is thirds or fifths or maybe another Greek slave left to do his owner’s bidding.”
“Finntan, stop,” Ainninn warned him.
“Please, hold no fear of me. My Lord would never wonder about your private conversation and I would never offer fodder for him to consider.”
“What do they call you?” Ainninn asked.
“My Master simply shouts for the Egyptian. I need no name. I’m his only Nile dweller.”
The woman stated the fact clearly. Ainninn, however, thought she heard some bitterness. And, who could blame a woman, slave or not, her regrets to being nameless.
“Tell me your name. My people have more than a few wandering Nile dwellers living among us.”
“And, you could pass for one yourself, Ainninn,” Finntan chuckled regaining some humor.
“My father called me Mery,” the woman offered.
Ainninn nodded. “My mother let my father name me Ainninn. We will share this between us. You have my blessing to call me what you must when others abound.”
“Perhaps, she knows your mother’s kin,” Finntan interrupted with a sudden and stray thought. “They being countrymen and all. How big is this Egypt of yours, Mery? Would you know the kin of a lost girl called Tahemetnesu?”
Mery smiled and said, “So, your father is a powerful man, Ainninn.”
“He is but what made you ask?” Ainninn questioned.
“Your mother took his title as her name. Tahemetnesu means ‘the king’s wife.’ She must have been very special to him; not a hostage or slave.”
Ainninn shook her head no. “My father was gifted with the girl by a band of thieves seeking safe haven amoung our people. He accepted her and let them sleep the night under our stars. They went on their way with first light leaving her behind.”
“And, I rode out after them and sliced their throats. Thieves will always return to steal from a foolish host,” Finntan stated.
Ainninn grew was sullen as Finntan bragged. Her thoughts always darkened with memories of the woman she lost too soon. The mother who promised she would love her until the sun rose no more and the Nile ran dry. Tahemetnesu began her days with Ainninn’s father as his property but soon became his mate. A courageous woman able to manage the rages of warlord which soon became the whims of a king with the same ease she soothed Ainninn’s scraps and cuts. Yet, she had not shared the most personal of all titles with her husband or her daughter. To learn this so long after her demise and from a stranger, reopened Ainninn’s grief and deepened its sting.
“We should make haste to attend Quintus’ festivities. He has an afternoon of entertainment to delight you,” Mery tried to lift the dark mood she watched descend on Ainninn.
“This holds promise of some interest if not of successful negotiations,” Finntan slapped Ainninn on the back as he spoke. “Let us be good little visitors and attend our host’s lackey, shall we?”
“Lead on,” Ainninn sighed resigning herself to a dull afternoon of whatever the Romans considered a pleasant attraction. She thought to herself, “If enduring this gets me that much closer to sailing back the way I came then so be it.”
* * *
“Goddess! Look at those paws and fangs,” Finntan shouted watching the action below the viewing box. “The beast will devour them whole!”
“That is the general idea,” Quintus sniffed his curt answer after Mery dutifully translated the comment.
A big black cat menaced a pair of fighters trapped in the arena. The animal was massive and easily outweighed his opponents combined bulk. It swatted and growled at the man and woman chain by the wrists trapped. They worked in tandem to keep it at bay but had not been able to land even a glancing blow.
Ainninn’s belly roiled. The carnage they had already witnessed was bloody enough. Four rounds of men had faced the couple already. Each match ended with crippling or mortal wounds to the opponents. Yet, it apparently was not enough for the Roman’s bloody appetite. Quintus insisted on continuing the games, as he called them, for as long as the luckless couple remained standing.
It had been a very long afternoon and the fighters were showing their fatigue before the cat was set upon them. The man was as black as the woman was white and he stood head and shoulders above her. He was definitely right handed and she was absolutely left handed. It was by these preferred appendages they were so cruelly joined by six feet of iron chain. Leaving them little choice but to use their weaker limbs. Still, they were well seasoned and fought as one team.
The cat lunged forward with the claws of his right paw deployed. The strike connected and took a chunk of flesh from the man’s thigh. The woman did not lose the opportunity to answer the attack. Her bladed pierced the paw on its retreat. Throwing her full weight behind the blow, she pinned the paw to the blood drench ground. The man, in spite of his waning strength was able to thrust his sword into the beast’s neck until it passed through to the other side. A quick jerk left followed by another right removed the head from the neck.
“They are quite skilled,” Ainninn observed in Greek allowing her to directly address Quintus. “You’ve trained them well. I’m surprised you’d risk losing talent like their’s in a marathon for only our sport. We have surely seen enough. I assure you there’s no need to continue these diversions. We should hasten to talk treaty allowing Romans safe passage across our lands.”
Quintus turned his head from the gory field to look at Ainninn. “You don’t find these games to your liking?”
Ainninn shrugged and tried to answer without offending the man. “We are unaccustom to spectacle. We save our blood letting for war. Wrestling and competitions with sword skill end as soon as the evening meal is ready to eat. Our life is much simpler than the Roman ways.”
“Well, if the games are too refined for your understanding, we can adjourn in doors and discuss the treaty. I will have the guards supervise these two in their final bout,” Quintus said.
He could not completely hide his disdain for Ainninn’s lack of cultural appreciation. A thin trace of a smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth. He pointed to one of the soldiers at the edge of the arena and the man moved toward the fighers on the field.
“The fighting will continue on regardless of an audience? Why?” Ainninn asked as she watched the soldier unchain the pair and faced them off against each other.
“They are condemned. One will die on the field and the other will be crucified,” Quintus answered and fanned himself with a fold of palm fronds. “They displeased their master so they earned this misery. But, an all around robust outing, you must agree. If they are capable of thought, they may realize now death is the only end. Most likely this contest will be a bore when they begin to wonder why they struggled so long delaying the enevitable.”
Ainninn swallowed back the bile trying to rise from her gut as Quintus laughed. “They don’t know their lives end today? They think they will live to see another sun rise? They fight because they think they can win another day?”
Quintus was surprised by the paling of her cheeks. “One does not tell a pig it is off to the butcher. It is not necessary to tell slaves the fate they’ve earned. Such foolish notions you backwoods people entertain.”
Ainninn watched as the pair struggle to best each other. The man was rapidly losing blood but his outweighed the woman. His reach was long and he used it to his advantage as he clipped her chin with the hilt of his sword. The woman stumbled and fell. Her blade was knocked from her grasp. She scrambled backwards trying for distance and footing enough to stand. The man was staggering but it was obvious he would easily catch and slaughter her before he breathed his last.
“Stop the match!” Ainninn lept up and screamed in a bastardized Latin Vulgate to get both the guards’ and the fighters’ attention.
The action on the field stopped leaving Quintus to flap his gums in disbelief. He finally found his feet and his words after several moments of utter silence.
“Are you mad?”
“They are fine warriors! If you meant to kill them then you should have done so directly. To tandem fight them in battle after battle against men and beasts before setting them on each other is more than a punishment,” Ainninn ranted at the man even as Finntan stood behind her prepared to intervene if needed. “To treat them with such contempt is despicable. I will not have it. The goddess would never forgive me for abandoning an honorable warrior. Give them into my care.”
“What? No!” Quintus shouted back.
“For a man who so wants to hear yes from my lips when we talk treaty, you are very quick to say no,” Ainninn warned.
“You’d endanger all your people over two condemned slaves? You must be mad!” Quintus was fuming, “They will die where they stand on my command.”
“Do it if you’d like,” Ainninn eased her tone, “but I promise you, we will take our leave of this villa before their blood dries into the dirt. My father would never agree to a treaty signed after the senseless slaughter of warriors any sane witness would judge winners. Their skill should be heralded instead, you would crucify them over a slight. That, sir, is madness.”
Before Quintus could reply, the tall black man in the arena crumbled to his knees. He fell face first into the dirt. His body shuddered once then stilled forever. The woman lifted her face to glare at the Roman and his guests in the viewing box. Her hatred simmered like the sand beneath her feet.
“Apparently, I can not meet your previous demands even if I would have been prone to consider the notion. But, there seems some sport in a bit of bartering between us yet. Will you negotiate if there is only one warrior remaining?” Quintus baited Ainninn further, “Her life won’t end for long hours on that cross should you storm out. Would you condemn the Viking to a grisly fate when I maybe more than ready to spare her?”
“She’s no Viking. Her legs are stubby, her body compact. Germanic, I wager,” Ainninn corrected him. “Rare to capture. Rarer to keep living in chains. Foolish to destroy such a valuable prize. Let Finntan, take her into our care. Let you and I not merely negotiate then. Let’s, we two, forge an agreement before moon rise. You say yes she’s spared and I’ll say yes to a fair treaty.”
“A pact it is then,” Quintus’ eyes narrowed with his cold smile. “The deal is struck.”