Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Slavery

“We are enslaved by that which consumes us. That which owns us. Whether physical or not, it does not matter.”
--Scribonius Largus

“He’s gone,” Alexenah whispered. She repeated the phrase over and over in her head. “They took him from me. They took me away from him.”
Alexenah slowed her breathing. Took in a long draw of air and let it out slowly. Her heart raced. She placed her hand to her mouth to veil the quiver of her lower lip. All day it was like this. Whenever her mind was free, her thoughts immediately went back to what happened in the prison cell. The guards had wrapped her in the blanket and tossed her into the covered oxcart. It was more like a cage meant for an animal. She was certain she was to be taken to the slave gallery. Isn’t that what her father told her would happen?
Alexenah relaxed her hand and unwrapped the leather cord of the treasure pouch she still held. She placed the leather straps around her neck and tied it securely, letting it hang hidden under her clothing.
She looked through a small opening in the covering. As a tear clouded her vision, she wiped it away. From the sound of the wheels on old cobblestones she knew where she was and what route they traveled. She had been down these roads many times. Although no carts were allowed on the roads until the tenth hour, they took her from the Basilica Julia, right down the oldest street in Rome; the Via Sacra. They turned to the right after they passed the Vicus Tuscus Road. She could smell the spice shops. The cart was headed for the Forum Boaricum and beyond that the Saeptia Julia and the slave market.
They turned down the Saeptia Road and she immediately was overwhelmed by the smell of freshly baked bread. Next door to the bakery was her father’s linen shop where the wealthy would gather to buy expensive clothing. Another wave of grief overwhelmed her.
The cart stopped.
The guards argued with someone.
She peeked through the cover again and saw men and women on platforms. She heard salesmen barking the wonderful attributes of their wares. She shrank back when she saw the women stripped of their clothes. The men on the revolving stage were naked, to the waist. One foot whitened with chalk. Hung from their necks were placards that read “venalis”—for sale. She then realized the wares being sold were people. They had already travelled behind the Saeptia Julia and were now at the Graecostadium where they sold slaves. She had never been here before.
They took Alexenah from her cage and moved her inside a building. There was what she perceived were prostitutes standing against stone pillars positioned around the front of the entrance.
“No, God, no,” she said as they took her through a dark doorway into a small room of this building. She noticed a strong aroma of chamomile and lavender. This was one of the public bathhouses.
Two women took her from the guards. Alexenah went without struggle.
Removing her clothes, the attendants covered her with oil. It smelled of citrus and frankincense. They then scraped the oil and dirt from her body with small curved knives. Once cleaned, they led her to the edge of a perfumed pool and dunked her in the cold water —the frigidarium.
While the women dried her, Alexenah could not help but see the attendants’ gentle care for the other women in the bath. Young and old, they were all being prepared, but for what? She looked down at the leather pouch that hung on her breast. She was surprised they had not bothered to take it from her. She was dressed in a simple white peplos dress. It fastened at the shoulders and hung loosely down to her knees. She cried when they braided her long black hair.
“Come with us,” one of the woman said in Latin. It was the first time they had spoken to her. Alexenah followed the attendant down a long hallway, up a flight of stairs and out to a large room full of people. There was music and laughter. They marched the girls in a line behind a dais. It was a platform similar to the stage that the naked slaves in the forum stood upon.
Alexenah now stood with the other girls in the Forum Banquet hall, clean, clothed and placed on show like a prized lamb at the stockyard. She counted nine girls that stood with her. She was the last in the line. Offerings. Waiting for the butcher.
She looked at the food on the tables scattered around the vast hall. She licked her lips and swallowed. When was the last time she had eaten?
Horns sounded. Alexenah covered her ears at the noise.
Regulus, dressed in all his finery approached the girls. She knew it was him by his deep voice and the unmistakable smell of urine. He had painted his face like a prostitute--white face, red cheeks and lips. Was that blue on his eyelids? He wore a curly wig of gold. Pressing forward, he called out to the girls.
“Venite, servae!” Regulus commanded. He waved for the first two slave girls to come forward and ascend the steps of the dais.
Alexenah’s grief welled up in her for some reason and she started to cry.
“You must not cry,” a warm voice said behind her in Aramaic. Her language. The language of her father! “It will be well with you, my child. You are in God’s hands.”
Alexenah wiped her eyes, and turned. Behind her was the man who spoke to her in kindness. He was dressed in robes in the style of the east. The outer robe was of good cloth. It was the make of material she used to spin at the wheel in her fathers’ shop. He wore a large blue belt girdled about his round belly. By this she knew he was a merchant.
Alexenah looked into his bright eyes and at his soft smile. His teeth were white. He stood beside a large wooden box and carried a bag over his shoulder. It looked heavy—heavy enough to make him lean slightly to one side. She wondered what it could contain.
“Step forward, my child. It will be alright,” he said.
She stepped forward in line with the other girls. The room was filled with conversation and laughter. Music burst forth as a band of rough looking men came to inspect the girls.
“Who are you?” she asked the merchant.
“My name is Joseph. They call me ‘Tin-man’,” he told her.
“Tin-man?”
“I trade in metals,” he said and pointed to the box before him. “A gift for the High King.”
“But you are Jewish, like me.” Alexenah whispered.
“I come from Arimathia. But travel a lot.”
“Do you seek the Messiah as my father did?”
“Yes, I believe the Deliverer will come soon.”
“Me too.” She said. It encouraged her to know that.
“The sooner, the better. For us all,” He said.
As they talked, the men examined each girl. She saw them clamoring around the dais. The men shouted loud words she could not understand.
“That one there, with the cup in his hand is Caradoc. He is the youngest. The next in line is his brother Togodumnus. Married. Has several children already. And the third prince is Adminius. The eldest. Lost his wife and first child in birthing. They are from an island to the north of Gaul. To them it is Albion. To Rome it is called Britannia.”
He talked to her like a teacher; stringing pearls of information onto the line of knowledge.
“Why do they come so far south?” she whispered.
“They pay tribute monies and secure protection, trade, and peace with Rome. In return, they are given gifts. Such as you.”
She felt a sharp pain in her chest. “Me?”
“Yes, perhaps. They will choose one of your group to be concubina to seal the bargain and to raise sons for Rome.”
“Concubina? You mean like our father Abrahams’ wife Hagar?”
“Yes, Slave-wife.”
“Venite! Forward!” Regulus commanded. He motioned two more girls to climb the steps of the dais.
Alexenah crossed her arms and shivered. Everything has changed so quickly, she thought. Was it just this morning that father had died? Her lip quivered again. She watched the men, afraid which one would choose her, or if they would choose her at all. She felt caught up in a whirlwind where every choice was made for her.
Regulus commanded the girls on the dais to show their teeth. A girl cried out when one of the men pinched her. The other one squirmed when they lifted her skirt.
“Be calm. Stay strong.” Joseph whispered. “Your time will be soon and then it will be over.”
“Veneite.”
Alexenah and another girl climbed to the top. They were the last. Alexenah tried to calm herself. The men were rough and barbaric. Without manners. One put his stubby finger in her mouth and she tasted ash and grease. Another grabbed and sniffed her hair.
“You will, of course, notice the rich dark color of her eyes,” Regulus said.
All the men, except one, were cruel to the two girls. She focused her attention on the oldest son. He kept to himself.
“Kindness,” Alexenah said out loud.
The girl next to Alexenah turned, stared at her and said, “You look for good in this? Ha! They are nothing more than tears on your cheeks.”
Alexenah felt her face warm with embarrassment. She suddenly felt the urge to run away and go to her father. She teared up again.
“Ah, our Tin-man from Arimathea!” Tasciovaunus yelled as if seeing an old friend. “What have you brought me today?”
“Exactly what you ordered, Great King,” Joseph said. He motioned to the box before him.
Alexenah watched as Joseph offered his box and then removed the heavy bag from around his neck and shoulders and gave it to the King. They patted each other on the shoulders and laughed. She could tell they had been long friends. As they talked, she reached to her own neck to find the small treasure bag of her father still there. His ‘bundle of life’. She cradled the treasure and prayed. “My God, don’t let them choose me. However, if it be Your will, I ask that You do the choosing.”
At that moment, Tasciovaunus strode up to Regulus and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“I have made my choice.”