It was morning. Vespasian had not slept. None of them did. He sat in the stench and rot of the filthy straw and cold, wet dirt with the others. They sat along the clay wall of what seemed little more than a pig sty with a small fire burning in the center. It gave off some warmth, but not enough. They were not allowed to move. They could not stand. They could not lay down.
The woman next to him screamed in agony, "Its coming! My baby!" between the most terrible cries of pain Vespasian had ever heard. Worse than even the victims of the Nu, he thought.
Some of their captors ran to her aid. Vespasian looked away as blood poured from the woman. He saw the rest of his fellow slaves lean or stretch their necks closer to get a better view.
He looked the other way and saw the pale faces and yellow hair of three children. The smallest buried its face into the taller girl's coat. Beside them a boy scrunched his face and stared at the screaming woman. They're Urzoth. Vespasian realized.
The screaming continued, accompanied by what Vespasian could only describe as kind words from the men who had rushed to the woman's side. "It's ok, keep going. You're doing fine. There! There you go!" The woman's pained screams were replaced with the softer, sweeter cries of a baby. Vespasian watched the boy twist his face and sit back against the wall. The girl patted the youngest child on the head and whispered something. Vespasian mustered the courage to turn back to the woman.
He saw a man removing his shirt. The man held the baby tenderly and wiped the blood from its face and body. "Its a boy. You did great." The man placed the infant gently into the new mother's arms. "Here, you must feed him."
"Ok, ok. Let's go wash up. Come on boys." One of the men said.
The men left and the other slaves retreated back into their minds. Vespasian welcomed the silence after the chaos. He looked at the mother for the first time.
She was young and pretty even through the grime. Vespasian wondered how she of all people could end up here, set to be sold as a slave the same as him. No one cares about me. Few even know I exist, but her? He searched for something to say to the woman. "They were nice. The, uhm. Those men, they helped wipe him off. They helped you."
The mother glared at Vespasian, weak from childbirth but full of passion. "That man you saw, wiping this boy, he killed my husband and brought me here. No amount of wiping will clean the evil from that man." No tears escaped her eyes as she pressed the infant into her breast. She stared at Vespasian. He could not look away.
Vespasian was silent. He was the only one to watch as the woman smothered the life from her son. "He will not be theirs." She hissed as she dropped the lifeless child into the muck. Vespasian was horrified, but gave no reaction. He had long grown numb to this sort of thing. He did not flinch as the woman lifted herself to all fours, crawled a short, painful distance, then flung herself on the small fire.
Vespasian startled when the people around him began to scream for help. The woman howled in pain. The men rushed back in to the slaves' area and pulled the woman from the fire. The skin of her face, chest and arms was a charred black and red mess, but she was alive. She could not scream anymore. She just writhed in pain as the men stood over her.
"She was supposed to be a wet nurse! Could have got a thousand. No one will want this. Look at her!"
"Useless now!"
"She killed the kid too. She's a monster!" A man shouted and landed a solid kick to the woman's side.
While they discussed their options for the burned but very much alive woman, another man grabbed Vespasian by the arm and jerked him to his feet. "Come on horse boy. Let's see what we can get for you." Something in the man's words made Vespasian feel like he did not expect to get much. It shouldn't be anything. He thought.
From the small slave pen Vespasian was dragged to a wooden platform overlooking a small crowd on the side of a dusty street. Vespasian looked at the surrounding town. It's so small. No walls. This place probably doesn't even have a name. No, every place has a name.
"Five hundred pieces! Silver's fine for this one, but gold'll always do! He's a solid stablehand and an expert horseman! You will not find a man more suited to tending horses than this one! Young enough! As strong as he needs to be!" The foul smelling man gripping the back of Vespasian's neck shouted to the crowd.
A woman below spoke to a man next to her quietly, but loud enough for Vespasian to hear, "He's so small and ugly. Looks like he's from The Bryer too."
"Yes yes, surely as useless as he looks." Said the well dressed man, patting the woman's gloved hand." Vespasian was hurt by the words. The reaction surprised him. Such casual belittling from the strangers hurt him worse than the horror of the slave pen. It hurt worse than being a slave. He did not understand why he felt the sting of their words more than anything else, but tears began to well in his eyes. None escaped. They collected on the surface of his eyes until a few purposeful blinks cleared his vision.
"Two hundred!" Vespasian heard a man from the crowd yell.
"Ahh come now, such a low offer. Do we have any who'd like to beat it? Anyone?" The crowd was silent. Vespasian stared at his feet. He tried to be thankful for his shoes to keep the tears at bay.
"Well its robbery, but sold. Two hundred and fifty!"
"I said two hundred!"
"Ahh so you did." The man said as he pushed Vespasian from the platform. Vespasian was caught off guard by the sudden movement and fell to his face in the dirt. Just another home. Just another place. Probably safer than the others. Vespasian had plenty of practice comforting himself in times like these. Everything had seemed hopeless many times for him but each time he told himself things were not as bad as they used to be.
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There were two men that paid for him
One was taller than a Novissime man was expected to be and the other was fatter. Vespasian didn’t care who he was turned over to, or where they were headed. He just tried to be thankful to be out of that wagon that smelled like dogs and death. He tried to be glad to be out of the slave pen with all of its horror.
Riding backwards on the fat man’s horse was beginning to make him nauseous. He hadn't even realized he was on a horse.
He took a deep breath and smelled the salty air. We must be close to the sea
“Four years with the Urzoth, then sold away like I was nothing. I guess I was nothing to them.” Vespasian must have said it out loud because the tall man looked at him with a chuckle and said, “They’re barbarians, boy! You should count yourself lucky to be rid of them! The life of a slave on an estate like the one you’re heading to is better than life as the king of that bunch.”
Vespasian hung his head. He saw his bound hands. He didn’t want to talk to these men. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.
“The merchant said this one knows horses, but I don’t know if he knows anything. He might just be sad though!” The tall man rode close and mushed Vespasian’s head. “Good thing he was cheap.”
“Listen boy,” The fat man said, “you are either going to be helpful or dead. But before we even find out how helpful you can be, you’d best be respectful enough to respond when spoken to, or we’d just as soon kill you now.”
Vespasian never learned the Nu’s language but he imagined they had threatened him the same way. They proved empty threats then, if they did occur at all. Up until the end that is. “I’m sorry, sirs.” He said without lifting his head.
“Good. Good start, I like that.”
He seems over pleased with himself. It must have been an empty threat, Vespasian thought. He felt a stinging blow to the side of his head.
“Answer, boy!” The fat man shouted.
“I, um. They call me Worm.” The men burst into laughter.
Why did I say that? These men didn’t need to know that. I have a name. I don’t even know what they asked. Vespasian was on the verge of tears.
“How’d you come to know horses, you stupid worm!” the tall man shouted the question again when his laughter died down.
“Oh, I um. I was with different people. I’m from The Bryer, then I lived with these people called the Nu and they ride horses. They are coming this way actually. That’s who I learned, I don’t know.” The Nu! These people don’t know either! “We’ve got to prepare! The Nu are on their way! They were in the Bryer with 100 riders then they came-“ another stinging blow quieted him.
“Shut up, worm!” The fat man shouted, “We’re coming up on Joan. The estate is just past here. Save your story for the stable master.”
“This one sure is dumb.” The tall man said.
“Yeah well he’s got two hands. Besides, that’ll be somebody else’s problem.”
Vespasian couldn’t take it anymore. He felt the bile of his empty stomach lurching out of him and before he knew it happened, he had vomited all over the horse’s black tail. He leaned forward and was about to fall when the fat man grabbed ahold of him.
The tall man once again burst into laughter. "Hahaha! Breathe in that Caspian Sea air, boy! Hahaha it'll do you good!"
The fat man was furious and his compatriot's laugh only made him more so. He beat Vespasian as best he could with one hand, while he guided his horse with the other “There you've done it, Worm! You’ll be cleaning it and when you’re done I’m beating you till you can’t stand! I should have saved the money and gone back with nothing! Go ahead, laugh it up! Should have put him on your horse!”
Vespasian felt like crying, but he had nothing left. This is how it always starts, I guess
At least I'll be out of the cold forest. The Caspian Sea is nicer here, not as stormy. It doesn't even feel like winter is coming anymore. Vespasian's mind wandered as the beating continued.
Vespasian stayed with his thoughts as the fat man’s efforts subsided. When they came to a stop, Vespasian looked around. He thought they had finally arrived at whatever miserable destination lay in store for him. Instead he saw a caravan of legion soldiers marching across a dirt path from the massive walled city of Joan toward the sprawling harbor on the Caspian. It was more soldiers than Vespasian had seen since his days with the Nu.
Each man was uniformed in the same steel armor and helmet, with a short sword on their hip, a round shield on their left arm and a long spear held vertically in their right. At intervals of about twenty marching soldiers, two similarly uniformed men rode massive white horses along the outside of their lines. They were the largest horses Vespasian had ever seen. Between the horses, soldiers in far simpler leather armor each held the leads of two massive black corso war dogs.
The entire city of Joan was surrounded by walls even more massive and impressive than those of Fort Annius, Vespasian noticed. It was all so intimidating that Vespasian knew the Urzoth were doomed if they chose to fight the Novissime. I hope the king can find peace with these people. He was unconvinced how the empire would fare against the Nu.
The fat man removed his hat and shouted proudly to Vespasian. “Do you like that Worm? That’s just one legion! General Agrippa is sailing for Vencia! Fine day for it too! Clear skies for once. Going to show the world what happens when you rebel against the great Novissime Empire!” His words were filled with pride and Vespasian was almost jealous. I can see why these people walk around the way they do. Like the world is theirs. I’ve never felt that about any home I’ve had. Maybe this new life will be for the best. He thought, until another crack from the fat man’s elbow brought him back to his reality.
“Take off your hat worm!”
Vespasian did as he was told, reaching up with bound hands to remove the old hide hat. He watched over his shoulder while the seemingly endless parade of soldiers kept marching out of the gate, two by two, stepping in unison until finally a change. At the rear of the line, eight horsed legion soldiers surrounded a man with the most ornate gold and jewel encrusted armor Vespasian had ever seen.
Vespasian was numb, he realized. The sight of the man, the general he assumed, brought memories of the Bryer flooding back. Memories he had not thought of in some time. Dad would wear gold. All of his guards would too. I think it might have been fake. Bronze maybe or just painted. I should miss them. That life. He felt the horse start to move again.
“Beautiful ain’t they? Those are our horses there, you know?” The tall man said to Vespasian.
“Well they come from our estate.” The fat man corrected.
“That’s what I said." He shot back, "Anyway, since Royce ain’t coming back we’re short a man in the stables. You’ll be tending them now!”
“Cleaning the stalls is all you’ll be good for, Worm.”
Vespasian did know how to clean stalls. The Nu had each tended their own horses, including Vespasian when he was given one after a few years. Infact none of them even had stalls. They were always moving. I did help with the pigs and the sheep in the Tuculli, and they had stalls. How different could it be?
“Oh, the Nu! We have to tell them about the Nu!” Vespasian erupted, almost falling off the horse..
The fat man answered him with his elbow and forearm, and Vespasian was silent for the rest of the trip.