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 6
Sleep would not befriend Ainninn for the rest of the day. She was restless but unable to will herself to leave her blankets. Each time she considered moving, the thought of the mast and the woman still chained to it raced through her mind. To be more accurate, the woman was hanging from the mast by her torn and bleeding wrists. The image was enough to keep Ainninn seated at the prow with her back against the cabin wall. Her view of the world was deliberately restricted to the ocean before her and not the suffering behind her.
Finntan and Mery did not seek her out. Their voices, which usually filled her days, were missed greatly. Still, the loneliness was not enough to make her face what she had done. Nor was her hunger or thirst so great that she’d venture forth from the safety of her bedding.
When darkness began to creep up from the east, Mery approached carrying two pails. One was filled with water and the other held strips of clean, white linens.
Ainninn glanced at her hands and realized they were still covered with blood; Dru’s blood. The once fine white Roman tunic was no better off. It had been heavily spattered with bright, richly red blood during the flogging. In spite of the gore, Ainninn could not muster her will to cleanse herself of the visceral reminder staining her.
“Leave the buckets, I’ll wash later,” Ainninn mumbled.
Mery snapped her reply, “The water and linens are not for you. You are free to make your way to a basin to tidy yourself. You could jump into the sea for all I care. I want to clean your slave’s back and tend her injuries. If she can stand the treatment, I have a balm which will sooth some of her aches. Will you allow this?”
“Yes,” Ainninn was shamed by the woman’s tone and answered without looking up. “If she is able to take it, give her some water, wine, meat, and bread.”
“No, food will make her sick. Her belly needs to stay empty until you cut her down in the morning,” Mery stated barely holding back her rising emotions. “I’ll give her some water and a bit of wine but only enough to wet her lips and help her sleep.”
“You know better than I,” Ainninn said.
Mery was bitter in her reply before she strode away, “If only you believed that earlier and spared the slave a needless thrashing.”
Ainninn’s guilt was so great she could not respond. She sat staring at her hands unable to stop her tears. It could have been moments or hours later when a cool wine skin nudged her shoulder. It startled her and she began to scramble to get to her feet for the first time since the flogging.
“Easy, it’s just me. Drink a spot or two then we’ll talk,” Finntan’s voice insisted rather than requested.
Ainninn calmed and settled back down. She was grateful for his direction. She was quite lost in her own mind and needed the guidance. In all her life, her wisest guides had been her father and his closest confidant, Finntan.
“You are angry with me,” Ainninn stated the obvious.
The big man laughed. “More disappointed you did not trust me enough to risk appearing weak and hear me out. Had you known the events of the morning, you would not have punished the slave.” He stopped his speech to restate his claim,
“Ainninn, your actions were without thought. You were very wrong. You should not have punished the slave.”
Ainninn was wincing from the words as much as from the swig of the bitter wine.
“She struck a free man. It is a death sentence in Rome for such an act.”
“We,” Finntan said with a twinkle in his eyes, “are no longer in Rome. You are the woman’s mistress. Your rules alone will make or break her spirit. Unlike you, her actions were not wrong. In fact, I would be proud to stand next to her in a fight.”
“Will you tell me now what you and Mery know that I do not but should?” Ainninn asked and took another pull from the wine skin.
“The oar master was still drunk this morning from his endeavors of last night. He woke feeling his oats. He pummeled the whelp when the man refused to service his stiff cock. The oar master was ready to force his hardness into the weakling’s mouth when your slave slammed her oar across the oar master’s brow.” Finntan chuckled. “She’s fast. He never knew what hit him. The idiot was sprawled flat on his back when I came running.”
“How’d her face get bloodied? And, why did you nearly take her head off with that walloping punch to the her jaw?”
Ainninn was starting to feel a little tipsy from the strong wine and recapped the skin before it got the better of her.
“I smashed her hard hoping it would knock her senseless while you beat her. Too bad she’s tougher than that. As for the bloody face, it was her own doing. The oar snapped back and caught her head on. She had to know it would but she acted none the less. I was merely locking her down so the oar would not continue to swing and batter her about.” Finntan took the wine and paused his tale to pull a mouthful. “Here’s the thing, she struck out to help the whelp because he shared his water with her and then his bread and cheese later.”
“She told you that?” Ainninn doubted claims of a selfless act after a foolish action.
“Mery witnessed the exchanges several times. Your slave will not speak her will. She can not since you forbade her to do so. You left her to beg for your mercy as her only defense then you deny the plea.”
“How could I not ignore her?” Ainninn stuttered as she defended her own actions. “They were watching to see me weaken. I must be perceived as decisive for the sake of our people.”
Finntan shook his head. “Say so if you like but we both know it is not true. You did not listen to me or Mery and you ignored the slave’s begging to prove to yourself you are fit to lead. By doing that, you’ve shown you are still too young to rule.”
“Is that what you’ll tell my father? Will you turn his ear with my one failure so close to home when all the days getting this far were filled with my triumphs?” Ainninn asked trying to stoke her anger but her tongue thick from the wine.
“No, I’ll speak nothing of this event,” Finntan promised. “But, your father will learn of it.”
“How?”
Finntan grinned as he stood and stretched. “You will tell him in your own good time.”
“You think so?” Ainninn asked sincerely.
“Yes, I do. You’ll turn this dismal failure into yet another triumph, Ainninn. I’m certain of it.”
“I wish I was as confident about my abilities as you seem to be,” Ainninn muttered to the man’s back as he walked away.
* * *
The sun had yet to peek over the edge of the sea when Ainninn rose to scrub herself at the basin. She was mindless of any eyes lingering on her naked frame. Nudity was common among her people. And, even though she was strikingly beautiful with dark skin and long limbs, none in her home land would dare to challenge her as they might some feeble wench. Ainninn was the daughter of the chief and a strong warrior in her own right. It was taken as a matter of fact that any man trying to force his need between her thighs would lose more than his life.
Ainninn was grateful to feel the wind against her skin and finally be free of the foreign linen. It was needed in the hot temperatures of Rome but the cooler air on the ship’s deck made it bearable to wear her own, heavier clothes again. Once she cleaned the last of Dru’s blood from her skin, she began to dress in her leggings and tunic. It was not breezy enough for a cloak yet so she returned it and her boots to her blankets. She lingered at her bedding a moment longer to braid her rich, dark hair into a single tail.
Feeling infinitely more herself, Ainninn quietly made her way to the mast. She approached it and the woman hanging from it as she would any wounded animal. Startling a suffering creature usually went badly for all involved. Ainninn had no intention of allowing this encounter to go badly. It was time for healing. Ainninn wanted to begin the healing with Dru and then she’d see to making things right with Mery. After securing the women’s good graces, Ainninn was fairly sure Finntan would forgive her. She realized she could be wrong, still, she suspected he had already forgiven her but was not quite ready tell her yet.
Standing behind Dru, Ainninn felt the heat from the woman before she even touched her. She let her fingers lightly trace the curve of the slave’s bicep and suspected a fever raged beneath the skin.
Ainninn covered both of Dru’s biceps with her palms and applied gentle but firm pressure. She hoped the act would work as well calming the woman as it did an injured horse. Ainninn let her hands slowly travel the length of Dru’s arms up to the chains fixing her fast to the mast. Dru whimpered when Ainninn stepped closer to hold her still. When the chain was released, Dru’s arms lowered by her own volition.
“You are with me very early among the waking,” Ainninn stated in a soft tone.
The reply was clear but weak, “Yes, Mistress.”
“I thought you’d be out of you head with pain or boredom and slumber from evening till midday.”
“Parts of the night were lost to me but not enough of it to negate my punishment, Mistress. There’s no need to leave me here longer. I’ve suffered as you wanted. I’ll obey,” Dru said and rested her forehead against the mast. “Please, Mistress, let it be enough pain for now.”
Ainninn grimaced knowing she caused the unjust agony. “You’ve taken more than your fair share. It’s time to let you down.”
“Thank you,” it was almost too quiet to hear. “Can you help me to my bench, Mistress? I doubt I can walk on my own but if you command me so, I’ll crawl.”
“No,” Ainninn said as she eased Dru’s arm over her shoulder, taking most of her weight. “No more rowing for you until the fever breaks and your stripes scab. You’ll take a bunk and let Mery tend you properly.”
Dru was wincing as she moved. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her knees buckled more than once but Ainninn continued to guide her steadily toward the berths.
“You can make it,” Ainninn encouraged.
Dru shuddered in pain but answered, “As Mistress commands.”
A lantern lit behind the cabin’s canvas covered doorway. Finntan stepped out at nearly that exact moment. He was more dressed than the previous morning but appeared less rested. His meaty hand held the canvas aside to allow Dru and Ainninn clear entry to the berths.
“Mery awaits,” he said.
Ainninn replied, “I’m sorry that once again your morning is interrupted before the sun wakes the clouds, my friend.”
He waived the apology off. “Mery woke me with a chore in mind. She was readying me to retrieve the slave at first light.” He grinned and Ainninn saw in his sea green eyes she was forgiven. “I’m glad you have done the deed for me, girl.”
“I am forever lightening your burden,” Ainninn teased.
Finntan smiled broadly and gave a half bow after the pair passed him. “I am humbled to be under such a considerate commander.”
“Humble as you are, would you be kind enough to find me a mallet and a chisel head? A poker and a sword pommel would do if you can not find the others.”
“On my way,” Finntan furrowed his brow in confusion but agreed to search for the items none the less.
As the women crossed the threshold into the cabin, Ainninn was almost carrying Dru. The slave’s legs had given up the struggle and were dragging behind her. Her free arm grabbed around Ainninn’s middle in a futile effort to stay on her feet. Mery rushed over to help the pair get the last few feet to a freshly made and waiting berth.
“Ainninn, can you hold her up? I want her to drink some broth before we begin.”
Dru lifted her head with a gasp at the words while Ainninn positioned her on the edge of the berth. “Did she say ‘broth’ just now? Was that the word?”
Ainninn noticed the slave’s pallor green a little with the question. The thought of food was sickening Dru. Ainninn decided to try to distract the woman with her newly found skill instead of answering the question directly.
“Your ears are working now? Should have told us you only needed a whipping to unstop them.”
“She makes the sounds oddly and too fast. Ask her to slow for me, please. I might yet learn to listen, Mistress.” Dru’s eyes filled with tears and she dropped her gaze. “I would hope to avoid another lesson at your hand.”
Ainninn forced herself to swallow back the guilt creeping up from her gut. She watched as Mery approached with a steaming bowl. It seemed neither Ainninn nor the slave were looking forward to food.
“Mery, speak slowly to Dru. Speak as you would to a simpleton.” The word brought a quick glare from Dru. “What?” Ainninn asked. “You said she speaks too fast for you.”
“Does she understand your words, Ainninn?” Mery asked.
“Ainninn? She spoke your name just now,” Dru was stunned to realize she was, in fact, speaking the same language as Mery. “If I speak slow and careful do you understand me?”
Mery smiled at Dru as the woman labored over the words. “You have a fat tongue and you mangle the ends of the words but I’m getting one or two then mumbles then another word.”
“Fat? You think I’m fat? That is cruel,” Dru said.
It took Mery a moment or more to figure out the confusion. Ainninn wanted to laugh but she held her peace. It would take time but each woman would eventually figure a method to tame their tongues to speak the words as the gods intended. The way Ainninn and her kin spoke. In the lagging days between, there would be confusion and moments of chaos but Ainninn vowed not to laugh unless it was funniest muddling ever uttered.
“Drink,” Mery instructed slowly and deliberately while motioning with her free hand.
Dru grasped the bowl with both hands. Her trembling caused the contents to slosh at the sides. Ainninn reached over and steadied the action. She felt Dru’s whole body lean heavily against her as she focused on the task assigned. A sip was followed by a whimper and quickly followed by another sip. Only three sips into the offering, Dru lowered the bowl from her lips.
“I can not take more.”
“Drink.” Mery and Ainninn both instructed.
Dru tried to comply. The strength to hold the bowl was slipping faster than the contents were drained. Ainninn ended up cradling Dru against her and tipping the broth into a barely willing mouth.
“Ainninn,” Mery said as she took the empty bowl from the woman’s hands.
“Help her stretch out on her belly.”
Dru looked bewildered. Her eyes were watery and red but the black depth of them was expanding into the usual blue, gray surrounding it. Her mouth slackened and drool formed at the corner.
“Is this right? What did you do to her?” Ainninn was alarmed watching Dru’s features turn dreamy while waking.
“It is a gentle root which calms the skin and slows the blood. It will make what I do next for her less than excruciating. But, it can not sooth to numbness. I have nothing with me which can help her slumber the worst of the pain away.”
“Can she hear me still?”
“Yes, but she’ll not be able to tell you so,” Mery answered before turning to gather her supplies closer.
Ainninn guided Dru down on her side and then rolled on her belly. She arranged her arms and legs in a comfortable position but easily reachable for Mery’s skilled fingers. Finally, she turned Dru’s head to face the wall. Ainninn squatted with her back against the wall so Dru could see her even though the nearly black eyes had grown sightless.
Drawing close, Ainninn brushed the hair back from Dru’s cheek and let her warm palm rest against the feverish skin. She whispered so only the drugged slave could hear, if in fact she could still hear, her swear.
“I’m sorry. I was wrong to harm you. If I lay a hand on you again it will not be out of anger or malice or pride. I will strike out only for open defiance to my kin or because I’ve lost all my reason.”
In spite of Mery’s prediction that Dru would not be able to respond, the wounded woman slowly reached for Ainninn’s hand. She managed to grasp the thumb and squeeze, weak as a newborn. Only then did her eyes close to find some small amount of rest.
Mery worked long hours bending over Dru’s beaten back. She was sure of her skills but tended the damage with infinite, feather light care. Ainninn was riveted to her spot watching healing which was truly an art.
Ainninn’s people knew little in the ways of caring for the injured and ill. Sickness that did not pass quickly usually resulted in death. Wounds with flowing red blood loss ended life in much the same manner. Fever was dreaded most of all. Those with hot flesh were shunned or dragged from their beds and left out in fields before their homes were burnt lock, stock, and barrel. The death of one was mourned but it could not outweigh the survival of their people.
Finntan returned twice during the process. Once with the items Ainninn requested and once with a needed but unrequested bucket of water. Ainninn mused that Mery and Finntan might already be thinking with one mind and one heart. The thought warmed her.
When Mery finally wiped her hands dry on a clean rag, the fire no longer raged across Dru’s skin. If anything, the pale flesh was clammy. Ainninn took solace in the woman’s easy breaths in and out.
“What now?” Ainninn asked.
Mery’s brow drew into a serious line as she answered, “It depends on your will. If you want her to wake now I can force her back from wherever her head has gone to slumber. She can be chained to the oar within the hour to do her duties but she’ll be weak and take longer to regain her full strength.”
“You said ‘if’ so I have another choice,” Ainninn said as she stood. “Tell me, Mery, what is the other option for my will to take.”
“Let her sleep until she wakes on her own. Sometime tomorrow, I would think. You’ll be able to set her to work again by noon at the latest,” Mery shrugged and her exhaustion from her grueling task showed for the first time.
Ainninn nodded before walking over and retrieving the items Finntan had gathered for her. She examined the blunted chisel and the axe with the head wrapped over several times around with thick grain sack cloth. She gave a little smile as she realized he knew what the tools were meant to do. It warmed her heart to think he was like minded. She pulled the room’s lone stool out of the corner and placed it under the light streaming in from the hole in the center of the roof.
“Put your neck here,” Ainninn commanded in her sternest tone and pointed to the stool.
Mery did not hesitate. A lifetime of obeying a voice like Ainninn’s overrode any fear she harbored regarding the reason for her neck to be placed on a block. She knelt at Ainninn’s feet and gather her hair over one shoulder before settling down on the wood. Ainninn was as precise with her task as Mery had been with her care of Dru. She placed the chisel tip between the tongs of Mery’s slave collar and tapped with three even strikes of the axe head. Wedging the small crevasse into larger split, Ainninn was able to pop the tongs open with a forth measured strike.
“Let that metal noose be gone from your shoulders and let my last command be the last command you heed from any other than yourself.”
Mery sat up slowly. The ring which encircled her neck for longer than she cared to remember fell away. The clang when it hit the floor sent a shiver down Mery’s spine. She let her fingers rub the newly freed skin as tears began to trail down her cheeks. Ainninn saw the storm of emotions forming behind the tears. She knelt next to Mery and let the woman fall into her arms.
Sobs were muffled into her tunic when she hushed in the Mery’s ear, “You are free of your chains. You can stay or go as you please. But, I know whatever you choose to do, Finntan will follow your skirts. For making him happy, you will always have a home with my people. For your skill with healing, you will always have food on your table with my people. For being of my mother’s people, you will always know family with me and mine.”
“Thank you,” Mery regained some control of her tears but was not ready to release her grip on Ainninn.
Ainninn kissed the dark head clinging at her breast, “No, thank you.”
* * *
Dru remained flat on her belly on the berth. She was motionless for the long day and night and following morning of Ainninn’s vigil. Ainninn watched from her seat on the stool as Dru finally began to wake. The woman’s breathing changed as she started the climb from dreams to daylight. Ainninn moved closer to be ready if Dru tried to get up. The last thing Ainninn needed was for Dru to undo all Mery’s hard work by leaping out of her berth in confusion. Those eyes which closed more than a day ago fluttered open with a soft groan of pain. Dru began to lift her hand to her head and Ainninn leaned over to take hold of her arm.
“You must stay still,” Ainninn said.
Even though the command was soft, Dru shivered with fear. Ainninn felt the muscles under her fingers contract. Dru was preparing to be punished.
“You are safe, Dru. We treated your wounds. You just need to move slowly and carefully for a while more.”
“Mistress?” Dru sounded very confused.
“Yes. I’m Ainninn of the Celts. Do you remember, I freed you from the Romans?”
Dru eyes cleared with several blinks but her words proved she was still not awake enough to be cautious. “You are my new owner. I remember you took possession of me. Little more changed than my leash holder and whip wielder now speaks in a tongue like mine and I know my failures better.”
“You’ll cringe when you are yourself again and remember you said this much to me,” Ainninn chuckled. “You are lucky I’m remorseful about your flogging and willing to stay my hand regardless of how idle your mouth is.”
“Remorseful? That would be a first. No master ever regretted beating me before why would you care about a worthless slave who earned your wrath?”
“Because you did not earn it. I was mistaken and should not have whipped you,” Ainninn readily admitted.
Dru whimpered, “If only you realized that before you grabbed the lash.”
“Sorry means little but I’ll offer it anyway,” Ainninn hushed as she caressed Dru’s cool and dry brow.
“You are the first ever to say so,” Dru whispered. “It means more to hear than I thought it could.”