This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  THE CHARIOTS SLAVE Copyright © 2011 by R. Lynn All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cataloguing-in-Publication Data is on file with the Library of Congress

  Cover designed by R. Lynn

  For information about the author, visit www.AuthorRLynn.com

  To my beautiful and quirky Grandmothers, Your love and support makes me a better person.

  “We are all slaves, until we are all free.” –Dr. Martin Luther King

  B urning sand whipped at her legs, pushed by the desert wind. Her weary feet, broken and scorched, a reminder of how far they’d come. She ran her tongue over her cracked lips, trying to find enough saliva to calm their sting. But it was no use, she hadn’t had water for two long days.

  The rope around her neck restricted her ability to breathe. Hours ago it broke through her skin, warm liquid now trickled down her throat. Despite her rising desire, she could not pause to inspect if it was blood or sweat. She had to keep walking.

  One foot after another, trudging forward, she and the train of women followed blindly behind the guards. Each step taking her farther away from her shadowed past and one stride closer to whatever it was the future held.

  No matter how hard she tried to think of something else, nothing—not even the pain— could keep her from remembering the night that brought her to this place…

  …”Where is it?” her father ordered as he dug his uncut fingernails deeper into her arm, pressing her further into the ground.

  She turned her head trying not to breathe in the spoiled wine fumes that now wafted in her face. “Where is what?”

  His sweaty chest rose and fell in a fury alongside his unsteady breath. “My wine. My vessel is not where I left it.”

  “You probably sold it for coin to gamble on the gladiator games.”

  “I know you or your whore of a mother took it.”

  Her blue eyes iced over with hatred for the man before her. How dare he talk of her mother in such vulgar terms.

  “My mother,” she spat. “Poured your precious wine into the culvert.”

  Without warning his soiled hand came crashing down across her face, followed by the coppery taste of fresh blood as it poured into her mouth. She waited and watched as her father stumbled out of the room, no doubt in pursuit of her mother.

  With a sigh of relief, she brought the hem of her sleeping cover to her lip, in an attempt to stop the bleeding. For now he was gone, and she might be able to get a few hours of sleep.

  The rough fabric against her wounded lip stung. It had taken a long time for her injury to heal from their last incident. Pulling back the cloth, she looked down at the dark crimson stain.

  The muffled sounds of an argument began to slowly increase in volume and echo through their small home. She lay back down, pressing the cloth to her mouth as she tried to tune out her parents angry shouts.

  Soon the boldness in her mother’s tone dwindled into pleas begging for understanding. Instead, she listened as her father shouted profanities and sent her mother’s body

  crashing into a wall. This argument, by the sounds of it, had gone too far.

  Without concern for decency, she leapt from her bed and ran to their room. The first thing she saw as she turned the corner was her mother’s body lying crumpled, half against the wall and half propped over an empty barrel. Blood oozed rapidly out of a fresh wound on her head. The only sign of life was the slow twitching motion of her hand. By the time she realized how serious her mother’s condition was the movement was so faint she had to strain her eyes to see it.

  “Mother!” she screamed, diving forward. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and held her back. She struggled and kicked. “She needs me, she’s dying. For the love of the gods let me to her side!” No mercy was granted. Instead, she watched as the movement ceased and her mother’s spirit left their tormented world and traveled away from her, forever….

  … Struggling to free her arms, she fought against her slave bindings, it felt as though it were her father holding her back once more.

  One of the guards noticed her attempt and slammed the hilt of his sword into her stomach. The blow forced her backwards, knocking the wind from her lungs. She thrust her leg out attempting to maintain her footing, but instead of the hot sand, she landed on the leg of another. Losing balance, she toppled to the ground, causing the chain of girls to come crashing down after her.

  Rough hands grabbed at them and forced them back on their feet. The cries of the others filled her ears as the guards took the opportunity to use violence on the women.

  “On your feet,” one of them grunted. Another kicked a small girl while she struggled to stand.

  He knew she was not able to force herself up with her hands

  bound behind her back and with a rope around her neck. But

  he didn’t care. A feeling of brute power coursed through his

  veins as he beat the girl.

  Anger and guilt pounded on the drums of her heart as she

  watched the poor girl struggle. It was because of her actions

  that the girl was suffering. Just as it was her fault, for hiding

  her fathers wine, that her mother had died. The weight of the

  burden was too great, and she knew that she could no longer

  endure loss on her account.

  “Leave her alone!” she yelled in a foolish act of bravery.

  Somehow managing to shift onto her knees and stagger up to

  a standing position. Tangled, dirt incrusted locks of her once

  fine auburn hair fell across her face and hid the hesitant look

  of fear in her eyes. No doubt the guards would punish her for

  being defiant. But all that concerned her now was helping the

  girl.

  “What did you say?” He snapped his attention away from

  the battered girl and started toward her.

  The other guards snickered to themselves as they stood

  back to watch the new drama unfold. Upon seeing the way he

  preyed upon her one of the men warned, “Easy Kaeso,” “What is her status?” Kaeso barked in question, ignoring

  the warning and not even turning to address the man. A young guard ran forward with a slate tablet firmly in his

  hands. Each of his steps set off an awkward clatter of banging

  metal as his armor floated about his weak form. Next to

  Kaeso’s magnitude he looked to be a child, but in truth he

  was no less in years than she was.

  The guard hurriedly read over the tablet, not wanting to

  risk Kaeso’s wrath for keeping him waiting. His eyes scanned over the inventory list until he found what he was looking for. “She is named Sellah. A Vindobonian girl from the house of Katarius, and she is 18 years.”

  Kaeso held his head high as he looked over the girl that refused to cower under his towering stance. “Well Sellah Katarius, I do believe you owe me an apology.” He hoped to humiliate her for the humiliation she had brought upon him.

  Sellah bit nervously on her cheek as she tried to keep her courage. He was big, perhaps the largest of all the men escorting them. She considered her options, to do nothing would grant her the same fate as her mother. If s
he were to fight she could keep her pride. And if she were lucky enough to die, she would do her best to make sure the guard would join her.

  As she looked to the girl struggling to stand, she found the strength to do what was needed. She would no doubt die. But if she had her way, this poor innocent girl would live.

  “I…” she cleared her throat, squared her shoulders and raised her voice. “I never understood the term dumb brute until now!”

  The guard’s eyes were hardened with anger, yet he did not lash out. Rather, he towered over her in an act of

  intimidation. The women and other guards stood eerily quiet as they awaited his reaction.

  Sellah’s heartbeat rose, she was certain he could hear it. “Dumb brute,” she all but whispered. “Were those words too hard for you to understand?”

  “Enough!” he growled, as he dove toward her. His weight pulled her down, triggering a chain reaction that once again toppled the other women.

  Sellah struggled under a body that held her hostage by its girth alone. While she fought for freedom, he attempted to secure her arms.

  It did not take long for her to realize that she had no hope against his strength. She was weak physically from their march and emotionally from losing her mother. When she finally surrendered, her motionless body lay pinned under him.

  Much to her relief, he pushed his weight off. Despite the freedom to breathe once more, Kaeso held her arms, keeping her captive. She could do nothing but watch his eyes rip through hers, and trail down her form.

  In the absence of his stare she realized that her legs were free. It was the opportunity she was waiting for, and she took it, slamming her knee into his groin.

  Pain glazed over his eyes as he collapsed, once again falling on Sellah. He clutched himself as anger filled threats spewed out of his mouth. His weight was crushing her leg, but she fought to hold back a cry. After a few moments other guards pulled him to his feet and stood him, towering over her.

  The slave women pulled as far away from the scene as they could. Sellah caught the eye of the girl huddled closest to her, and surprisingly the girl smiled. It was an odd gesture, but it gave strength to Sellah. She watched as the girl’s eyes widened as she looked at the guard and then quickly back at Sellah.

  Sellah turned in time to see Kaeso, slamming his fist toward her face. Twisting to the side, she avoided full contact. His assault only grazing her ear before smashing into the dirt.

  “You little....”

  “Kaeso!” a smaller guard yelled in warning. Kaeso paused

  with his fist in mid-swing. “Don’t mark her. You heard the orders. The Vindobonian girl arrives untouched.” Despite his small stature he spoke with authority. Sellah could tell by the way Kaeso obeyed that the small guard held power.

  The brut let out a low throaty growl of frustration as he roughly pulled Sellah on her feet. His eyes rolled over her features and down her body. He looked her over, his expression changing from one of anger to one filled with lust.

  “Well, if she is to be untouched…” he licked his lips and raised his mouth in a grin, “then we shall remove her stola,” Before she could respond, his meaty hands greedily ripped off her garment, leaving her exposed before the other men and women. The women gasped in shock, Kaeso puffed his chest and hooted, holding the garment above his head victoriously as the other guards offered groans of approval.

  “Jupiter’s cock, her true color is red!” one of them shot forth, causing the others to laugh. She grit her teeth, stood fully erect, and stared boldly at him. Hiding the humiliation she felt with calculated self-assurance. He could take her garment but he could not take her pride.

  The words of the smaller guard had surprised her. She was to arrive untouched. A crafty smile spread across her face, knowing those words offered her something the guards had not realized—she could act out and have no punishments.

  “Kaeso, is it?” she said bravely. “I did not realize women were to your taste.”

  Kaeso flinched at her words and his grip on her arms tightened. She fought to hold back her smile when he did not retaliate with the force she saw him hesitate to offer. Some of

  the guards muffled their laughs as Kaeso turned to glare at them.

  “It is rather hot out,” she continued. “Being so fair skinned, I’ll certainly come ablaze in the sun. If you plan on selling me, or giving me as a gift, a burnt offering will not be well received.”

  Kaeso hesitated and glanced down at the tattered stola on the ground.

  “She has a point,” another guard offered.

  Sellah could see the anger in Kaeso’s eyes. He did not like being disrespected in front of the other men. She wondered if she could use that to her advantage.

  “Kaeso.” She lowered her voice so the other guards couldn’t hear. “If you give me my robe, and give us all some water, I promise I will be no further trouble to you.”

  He studied her face, a look of understanding forming on his. He brought his mouth close to her ear, “If you go back on your word, I will have my way with you. Orders, or not. Understood?”

  She nodded her head in agreement prompting Kaeso to pick up her stola. He threw it to her and she twisted her body, in an effort to catch it, but as her hands and neck were tied, she missed and it fell to the ground. Kaeso hissed under his breath as he roughly grabbed her hands and worked to loosen the knotted rope.

  “I better not regret this decision.”

  She nodded again and hurried to pick up her things and cover her exposed body.

  “Get the women some water and let’s keep moving!” he ordered.

  “But we still have a day’s march and only half a day’s

  supply,” the young guard protested, as he looked over the tablet.

  “Look at them. Do you feel like carrying a dried-out slave the rest of the crossing? Give them some water, and we will get there sooner.”

  No other dared argue with Kaeso, and the one who had set to watering the women. When he finished, they packed up and continued walking.

  “Thank-you,” the girl in front of Sellah whispered, as she glanced cautiously around.

  “Of course,” Sellah smiled.

  “I’m Accalia,” she said as she stretched her bound hands as close to Sellah as she could.

  Sellah returned the smile and reached forward to grab her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sellah.”

  Accalia’s large dark eyes watched Sellah with fascination. Sellah smiled at the curious girl. Over the years she had grown accustomed to people staring at her— her bright auburn hair and pale ivory skin made her stand out in a crowd. Especially when everyone looked like Accalia, dark skin, dark eyes, and dark hair.

  “Why are you here?” Accalia asked.

  “My father sold me to pay off his drinking debt. And you?”

  “My husband died and we could not afford to pay the fee of our land. It was either my son or me...” She cast her eyes away from Sellah, but it did not hide the faint trace of a tear that rolled down her cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” Sellah replied. It was one thing to be forced into this situation, it was another to choose this to spare your child.

  “He is just eight years old,” Accalia continued. “I hope to

  work off my debt and earn my freedom so I can return to him

  one day.”

  Sellah had a feeling that Accalia would never be able to

  reach her dream, but she held her tongue. All the girl had left

  was hope, and Sellah was not going to take that from her too. “Do you think they are taking us to serve in someone’s

  home?” Sellah asked, trying to change the topic.

  She watched Accalia look around, no doubt to see if any

  guards were near. The girl behind Sellah smiled, but it wasn’t

  enough to keep Accalia from answering. “I heard a rumor

  that they will take us to Roma and that we will be auctioned.” “Of course,” Sellah thought out loud.

 
“No talking!” a gruff voice barked from behind the girls.

  Accalia offered one last smile to Sellah before turning around

  in compliance.

  As they continued their march, large buildings began to rise over the horizon and small clusters of people could now be seen. They were close, too close for comfort.

  One building stood unsurpassed by others. Its very sight caused Sellah to shake. Rumors of the slaves it consumed had made it to her homeland of Vindobona. In fact, her father had often gambled the little denarii they had on sport within its arena.

  The buildings were a lot different than what she was used to. They were constructed with stone and mortar, unlike home, where wood and grass were used. Horses and supply carts, full of people and their spoils, drove up and down the stone roads. Some stopped and stared as she passed. Others

  continued on their way, too busy to notice her uncommon look.

  They came to a clearing on one of the streets, the guards lined them along the side of a stone wall. The littlest guard walked up and down the women, carefully inspecting each one.

  He would often pause and lift the stola of a girl to examine her body. He took particular care when examining Accalia. As he poked and prodded her, he muttered to himself. She shifted uncomfortably and choked back tears. Sellah wished she could help her new friend, but before she could think of something to do, the little guard began to speak.

  “I want items one, three, six, seven, and eight brought immediately to the Graecostadium. Send the others to the baths and then have a tonsor attend to them.”

  Girls were screaming as they were untied and forcefully dragged away, leaving Accalia, Sellah, and another girl behind. Kaeso and the small guard, who gave the orders, stayed with the three women. All the other men left, each with a struggling girl in tow.

  “Where are you taking them?” Sellah asked, no longer able to control her tongue.

  “You deal with her, Flavius!” Kaeso grunted, turning his back.

  Sellah noticed Accalia stiffen as Flavius approached the three girls.