The dominus chuckled, but it was a sound that was hollow and without mirth. I had not answered correctly.
“Do you see that man at the end, the tall one?” A strand of yellow came loose from my long tail and fell into my eyes, and I huffed at it with my breath. The man in question was larger than the others, and was pulling at his chains with murder and bloody vengeance in his eyes. The tattoo of a Roman soldier was on his arm.
The manner in which he outwardly struggled put me in mind of Christus, just the slightest bit. Though Christus was often calm on the outside, I often sensed a simmering rage that pressed against his skin from the inside, a rage just like this slave showed. Still, I thought that he looked unwell enough to be a poor purchase. While large and likely intimidating when fed properly, at the moment the skin of the slave stretched tightly over his bones, without any visible muscle or fat beneath it. He was filthy, and his skin was tinted a sickly yellow.
I noted my observations out loud, and the dominus laughed again, the sound grating like metal on stone.
“They all look like that in the beginning. You were better than most, but still nothing like you appear now. Slaves come from the pits, from the prisons. They are criminals and deserters. They are captured and sold, and then sold again. They have fleas, they sit in piss and shit. You must see their potential through all of this.” He looked down at me expectantly, and I felt my temper finally boil over. Was the point of this exercise to remind me where I came from, that I was no better than these filthy, naked slaves?
I set down the jug with a large clack and let the words rush from my mouth as sensation flooded back into my fingers.
“Have I become too proud, my dominus? Is this why you would bring me here?” The dominus looked startled at my question, but what else was I to think?
“Do not be difficult, Lilia.” Deftly stepping around the jug that sat on the ground, the dominus began to walk back the way that we had come, leaving me paces behind, blood roaring in my ears. I saw the expression on his face, and found that it was once more distorted with frustration and anxiety.
I wanted to yell. I did not, instead swallowing down the harsh words that I wished to spew forth.
“My apologies, Dominus.” Though I was tempted to leave it there, I once again hefted the jug in my arms and scurried after my master. “I do not mean to be difficult, but I truly do not understand your purpose in bringing me to the market today.”
The dominus paused in his steps, allowing me to catch up to him. He tried to tug the wine from my hands, but I shook my head and held tight.
“People will talk.” I felt that I had to point this out. Masters did not carry their own goods home from the market when they were in the company of a slave. It was simply not done.
He nodded, acquiescing. As we stood still at the end of the market, he looked at me, deep into my eyes, then around at our surroundings, rather as if he thought that someone might be watching us.
“I showed you that slave for a reason, Lilia.” We began again to walk. I was still confused.
“You knew that man would be for sale?” How would he have known that?
Frustrated, the dominus huffed out a breath and cast me a stern look. “No, Lilia, not that man in particular. However, there are always men like him for sale. Men like him, women like you. The fight in him is what set him apart from the others, and it is what I wanted you to see.” Again he looked around furtively, and I wondered who made him so nervous.
“I . . . I do not know what to say.” Why could he not speak plainly?
He heard the irritation in my voice, and rounded on me. I was surprised by the fierceness in his manner.
“I try to do you a favor, Lilia.” He nodded to emphasize his point. “I cannot tell you more, not yet, or be sure that I would. But you must remember what I showed you today. You . . . you will need it.” With a glare, he spun on his heel and continued up the road, his shoes disturbing the dust so that it danced around his ankles.
After a moment I paused, nerves washing over me like an icy rain. The dominus had traveled nearly all the way down the road before I gathered my wits and hurried after him.
I was favored in the household, true enough, but I was also a slave. The dominus did not need to warn me of anything, not even if he had knowledge that would save my life. What could he know that was so important he felt the need to warn me of its approach?
I thought of Christus, and of how shadows seemed to haunt him. Whatever it was that the dominus knew, I did not think that it boded well.
CHAPTER SIX
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The trip into town with the dominus had left me uneasy, the feeling a faint but present aftertaste that clung to my mouth. I worked through the afternoon’s training with fierce focus, doing my best to put both Christus and the dominus’ warning out of my mind.