Who's the Slave?

Who's the Slave?

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Copyright Oggbashan March 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

This story is set in the time of the Trojan War. All conversations are assumed to be in ancient Greek.

+++

The two men tipped the sack from the wheelbarrow on to the stone floor. I winced as it hit the floor hard. There was a faint muted whimpering from it as if from a small animal in pain.

I tipped them with two small coins.

"Watch yourself, mate," one of them said. "She's violent. Our boss is still walking bowlegged after she kicked him in the balls."

As soon as they had left I untied the sack to reveal a virtually naked woman cruelly tied and gagged. A strong leather strap around her neck and knees was holding her bent up. Her elbows were strapped behind her back. Her wrists had another strap between her slave bracelets and her gag was biting into her cheeks.

I unbuckled all three straps and eased her into a straight position before I got down beside her and anointed her ankles and wrists with olive oil, gently stroking to relieve the pain she must have been in. Her eyes glared fiercely at me above the gag, I sat down and rested her head on my shoulder before I cut the gag away. I picked up a beaker of watered wine and held it for her to sip. As she did, I felt her relax against me although her muscles were still tense as if she were about to attack me.

"How are you?" I asked.

She turned her head to look at my face.

"In pain, sore, and humiliated. Why did you buy me to be a common soldier's whore, and for so little?"

"Bresieus," That was her name, engraved in very small lettering on the back of her new slave collar that said prominently 'Cyrus' Property'. Getting her new collar and bracelets fitted and registering her as my slave had cost four times as much as her ridiculously low purchase price.

"Bresieus, I am not a 'common soldier'. I lead ten men. And I didn't buy you to be a whore. I bought you to be my servant and helper."

"But the price? Less than that for a dying donkey."

"I know. You are worth far more than that. But there were too many slaves being sold today. You were the last and everyone else except me had bought what they wanted. I hadn't intended to buy you or anyone. I was just here as an idle watcher. But the price was so low I thought I could offer you a better life than a peasant's farm labouring workhorse. I will try."

"You will try? What does that mean, Cyrus?"

"For a start it means that we will clean you up and get you properly dressed. What you are wearing needs throwing away."

Brisieus was wearing a ragged cloth around her hips and nothing else. I helped her to stand up and supported her across the room to a wash bowl. She and I washed her from head to toe and I noticed how many bruises she had, many fresh ones. On the table, the main furniture in the room, was a pile of cheap women's clothes that I had bought in the market on the way home from the slave auction. I had guessed the size of her feet and bought sandals. They fitted.

I had to help her to dress because her hands and arms still weren't working properly. When she was modestly covered I sat her down on one of our four stools and put some bread and cheese in front of her. She ate them with tears running down her face.

When she had finishing eating she knelt, awkwardly at first because she was still hurting. She looked up at me.

"Cyrus. I am your slave. You own me. What does that mean?"

"Brisieus, Yes, you are my property. But one thing that means is that you are protected. No one can abuse you or face my anger. You are mine and I will look after you. Al I want from you, is for you to look after me -- to cook, to do laundry, to clean, and to make my life easier."

"That's all?"

"Yes, Brisieus. I bought you to be a servant, not a whore."

She started crying and leant against my body. I stroked her hair. I thought I would have to find something she could use on her hair. It needed cleaning and a comb. Somewhere I had a spare comb. I picked Brisieus up and sat her back on the stool while I went to find it.

"Here you are," I said. "This is yours, as are the clothes you are wearing. They are yours. Not mine."

Brisieus started crying again. I wrapped my arms around her and let her sob.

"Brisieus, we don't know much about each other. I'll start. I and my men are part of the permanent ship guard. We are older men who are perhaps too old for the main fighting. We built this house ourselves and we live here. Come on for a tour of what little we have. This is my eating and living room. Through here..."

I led Brisieus by the hand.

"Is where I sleep, and now where you will sleep too. There is only one bed. Tonight? That is yours. I will sleep on the floor. Tomorrow my men will make another bed."

"I'll have your bed?" Brisieus was astonished.

"Why not? I want you to be comfortable, and if possible, happy. I am used to sleeping on a mattress on the floor and it will only be for one or possibly two nights."

We went up on to the flat roof.

"We dry our washing up her and have a good view. We have a small garden where we grow vegetables. My men have two other rooms -- one to live in, and one to sleep in. Come on. I'll introduce you."

I was pleased that my men stood up when we entered their living room.

"Men, this is Brisieus. She is my servant and she might help you too if she has time"

All ten men bowed to her. She started crying again. One man, Ajax, came forward and said quietly.

"Brisieus? Cyrus is a good man. He is strict but fair. As long as we do what he wants us to do, he treats us well. I am sure he will be the same to you."

Another man took some flowers out of a vase and presented then to Brisieus.

"For me?" She asked.

"Yes. I am glad to see a real woman here," he replied.

Brisieus turned around and buried her face in my shoulder.

"Men, if Brisieus wants to go shopping or an on errand, one at least of you with escort her and make sure she is treated with respect. That is an order."

"Yes, Cyrus," they chorused, but not completely seriously.

"And you will treat her as if she is one of your aunts, please, with respect but friendliness."

Ajax replied: "Yes, Cyrus. We will."

I led Brisieus back into my living room and sat her down again.

"Why, Cyrus? Why?"

"Why what, Brisieus?"

"Why are you treating my so well? I am your slave, your property. I have no rights. You could do what you like."

"Brisieus, being a slave if a misfortune of war. It could happen to any of my female relations. I hope, if that happens, they have a good owner. I want you to be contented because if you are I would be happy as well. It doesn't take much to treat you as a person who has feelings. But how did you become a slave?"

"It is the usual story. Our King was allied to the Greeks. My husband died fighting beside the Greeks. But something, I don't know what, upset our King and he switched sides to the Trojans. Our small town was in Greek territory and before we knew we were now allied to the Trojans it was overrun by a Greek army. Our men died. Our women became slaves. Our children? Usually killed but my two sons had died decades ago from a fever. But unlike younger woman, I wasn't an attractive slave. I'm older, have sagging breasts, and a temper. I hadn't been a Princess, just the daughter of a small scale farmer and I had gone back to him when my man was killed. I was just another woman in the household."

Brisieus kissed me on the cheek.

"What was that for?" I asked.

A couple of hours ago I was tied naked, in a sack on your floor. Now? I am clean, clothed, have my own bed, and I have cooking facilities that I don't have to share with any other women. You have turned me from a worthless purchase to someone who is nearly as well off as I had been in my own home."

"I wish I could go further and free you. I can't afford that. It would cost twenty times what I paid for you, and I don't have that sort of money."

"And I cost so little? That hurt, Cyrus. Knowing your own price is worse perhaps than being a slave. I cost less than that cauldron."

"Forget it, Brisieus. What I paid doesn't matter. Your value to me is far more than I paid. If you had cost what you would have fetched on a normal auction day? I couldn't have afforded you. But now? We need to go shopping for our evening meal and something to wash your hair. Come on."

+++

Brisieus walked a couple of steps behind me as we went around the market and the shops. I introduced her, as my servant, to several of the traders I used regularly.

One retorted "She's not your servant, she's your slave."

"She may be," I replied. "But she is mine and I expect her to be treated with respect, or else."

It wasn't a serious threat. He and I are friends.

"Then she will be, Cyrus," he said. Brisieus smiled at him.

+++

Back in the living room Brisieus told me to go away while she cleaned. She complained that men were messy and the whole two rooms needed a proper clean. I went up on the roof and I was pleased to hear her singing as she worked. Brisieus seemed to be settling down. If she did, I am sure my life will be improved considerably. When I returned, not only was the room spotless but she had washed her hair which now shone as a glossy black instead of the lank dull dusty colour it had been when I took her out of her sack.

The sack had been washed and neatly folded. The cloth she had been wearing had been used for cleaning. The three leather straps had been cleaned and oiled and were hanging up to dry.

"Why did you keep them? I asked idly.

"To remind me of how I came, and they are strong straps. They might be useful. Replacing them could cost you as much as you paid for me..."

"Please, Brisieus, try to forget how little I paid. You are worth far more than that."

"I'll try, Cyrus, but I don't think I can. That price really hurt me, far more than the whippings and punches."

"Which you won't get from me, Brisieus, ever. I might tell you off for doing something wrong or badly, but I'll never hit you."

Brisieus wrapped her arms around me and turned her face up for a brief brush of the lips. She snuggled back against my shoulder.

"Ajax is right, Cyrus. You are a good man, and I am very pleased you bought me, even if the price..."

I stopped her sentence with a kiss. I meant it to be no more than a brief touch but Brisieus made it into a full blown kiss that went on and on.

"I am sorry I said that I thought you had bought me as a soldier's whore, Cyrus, but I owe you so much, that maybe..."

"That's your choice, Brisieus. I haven't got the right to say you must."

"You have. I'm your slave. Are you sure you want me to decide?"

"Yes, Brisieus. Except legally, I consider you to be your own person, able to choose what you do, or don't do."

"You're sure? I may be your slave, but you are giving me more control over my life than my husband or father ever did."

"Then they were stupid. That is no way to make a woman happy."

"What do you know about making women happy, Cyrus?"

I felt sad. Brisieus noticed and hugged me harder.

"I was married. We were happy together, but she and my son died in childbirth five years ago. I still miss her as my partner and closest friend."

"And now you own another woman, Cyrus."

"I never owned her. She was her own person who chose me freely."

"It wasn't arranged by your parents?"

"Partly, it was. But we had known each other since we were children. We wanted each other and our parents were willing to let us be a match."

"That is rare, Cyrus."

"So was she..."

Brisieus kissed me again.

"And now, O Master, I am going to say thanks..."

Brisieus pulled me into the bedroom and on to the bed. She stripped us both before lying down with her legs spread. That was too sudden for me. I kissed her lips before moving down to kiss and nibble at her breasts. Yes, they were aging a little, not so noticeable when she was lying on her back, but showing signs of breast feeding and her age. I still thought they were wonderful after five years without a woman.

Brisieus giggled when I kissed her belly with the evidence of stretch marks and licked her navel. When I went lower and pushed my head between her legs she began to squeal. I hadn't forgotten how I aroused my wife. Although Brisieus was a couple of years younger than my wife would have been if she had been still alive, she reacted the same way. At times I was struggling to breathe as Brisieus' legs clamped around my head.

Soon she pulled up upwards and fed my erection inside her. Her legs scissored around my back and she pulled me deep inside her. I came into her and slumped on her body. Her hands stroked my back as I went to sleep, well aware that I had been properly drained.

If that what it was like owning a grateful Brisieus, my life could be bliss...

+++

But the next few months were not unadulterated bliss.

Brisieus organised us, bullied us, and chivvied us. We loved her for it but she made us work. My men made a larger bed for Brisieus and I to share but she made love to me two or three times a week. On the other nights she occupied my old smaller bed.

Brisieus insisted that the whole house should be kept clean and tidy. We had to make a couple of cupboards, a chest each for the men's clothes, and some shelving.

Firewood for cooking and heating was always in short supply near the ships. Brisieus ordered (I know, she is my slave, but she gave the orders) that every time we left the house and weren't going on guard duty, we should not return without some wood, even if that meant scouring the beaches for half an hour or so to find driftwood. We had to add a locked lean-to to store the firewood. Before the winter came it was full to overflowing. That made Brisieus happy because she knew she would not run out even though she was cooking and washing far more than we had ever done before I bought her.

Before Brisieus, whenever we went on guard duty or swords and spears were sharp but we were slovenly dressed. She changed all that. All our metalwork was burnished and gleaming. Our swords and spears were sharper than they had ever been. Our leather was oiled and glossy and our clothes? Brisieus made us wear clean clothes every day, and our fighting clothes were pressed with hot stones.

Two months after I had bought Brisieus my unit commander praised the turnout of my men and promoted me, giving me charge of another ten men.

They had been living in makeshift shelters but all of us worked to extend our house. What had been my private living and cooking room was now Brisieus' domain. I added a small study for me to retreat into when we enlarged the house. We had quadrupled the size of our garden because Brisieus wanted more vegetables and an area for herbs.

We had been unskilled gardeners. Brisieus bullied us into becoming more expert and the garden became as productive as she wanted.

+++

But our main role was still guarding the ships. Most periods of duty were boring, just standing and looking out for an attack that didn't come because the main Greek Army was between us and the Trojans. But when our army moved to attack a different part of Troy's walls, we knew an attack might happen.

One late evening, when I and my men were on duty, the attack came. We gave the alarm and stood behind or wooden palisades ready to fight. Our palisade held firm and we killed a couple of Trojan soldiers before they moved on to part of our palisade that had been breached. I kept five men and myself and sent the others to repel the Trojans. Even with so few extra men, attacking from a flank meant that we killed Trojans and pushed them back out. They retreated in good order.

I and my men had killed eight Trojans They had been elite troops unlike us, aged second-rate garrison soldiers. We stripped them of everything before their bodies were added a ceremonial funeral pyre of all those killed on both sides. Their swords were better than ours. Their armour was more ornately decorated but ours was just as effective at protecting us. They even had money on them, enough for the equivalent of a month's pay for each of us.

We brought our booty back to the house. Brisieus treated the superficial wounds that three of us had acquired. She pounced on all the booty except the money. She insisted we kept the better swords but also our replaced ones. She polished and burnished the Trojans' armour before I sold it. We had bought some wine to celebrate. Brisieus now had a wine store but didn't let us drink to excess.

I bought a strong box to keep my money in. I hoped I could acquire enough to free Brisieus but that would take time.

But I was content. The household ran better than it had ever done. Several times a week I went to bed with Brisieus and she made sure she made love to me very satisfactorily. She was running me and our men but we liked being organised.

There was always the risk of being killed by Trojans but that is part of a soldier's existence. Until then? We were living well.

We were attacked about a month later. Again the Trojans didn't succeed in getting near the ships and we acquired four more sets of armour. When cleaned by Brisieus the armour fetched a good price.

There was one odd thing. Brisieus had made friends with many of the other female slaves, most owned by officers. Her living room seemed to be full of chattering women most days. She had asked me to buy a loom and apart from the talking, the loom's shuttle was in constant use. She made rugs for the floor, eventually enough so that some could be washed while the others were on the floor. We had curtains and wall hangings. It wasn't a palace but it was better than most of us had ever known.

Brisieus asked Ajax to teach her how to use a sword. Why? I didn't know. The idea that a slave could use a sword, especially a female slave, was revolutionary, but a few kisses from Brisieus persuaded him. He had far more kisses from the other woman slaves as he taught them too. Ajax knew Brisieus was mine.

Six months after I had bought Brisieus the money in my strong box was nearly enough to buy Brisieus' official freedom.

Our old swords were now hanging on the wall of Brisieus' living room, next to a shelf on which sat the sack she had arrived in with the three straps above it.

But then the Trojans attacked in massive force. Our palisade was thrown down and we had to retreat almost to the ships. If the Trojans could get fifty yards closer? The ships might be burned. I and my men were slightly outnumbered and fighting hard just to stay alive when Brisieus and her slave women fell on the Trojans from behind. The surprise of being attacked by screaming women wielding swords they knew how to use was too much for the Trojans. They fell back, leaving eighteen dead behind but many of us were wounded.

As Brisieus was treating the spear wound on my left leg, the least serious of all our wounds, I asked:

"Why, Brisieus?"

"Why what, Cyrus?"

"Why did you and the other slave women fight for us? You are our slaves."

"For me, Cyrus? I was defending the man I love."

Brisieus kissed me gently.

"As fr the others? We have persuaded our masters to treat us well. If we were captured by the Trojans, even though many of us ARE Trojan, we would still be kept as slaves. Our families wouldn't take us back. We are better off as well-treated Greek slaves."

"Thank you, Brisieus. I owe you my life."

"Not quite. You were holding your own. But now I have more armour to clean for sale. It should fetch a good price."