DISCLAIMER: From the small effort I made to research this time period, I'm certain all history majors will judge this story complete and total fiction. This would bother me more if it were not a work of, well, fiction. Yes, I could have tweaked instead of twisted what we know about antiquity. It probably would have made very little difference to the main concepts of the tale. But, this story is most unusual for me. It is coming to me as it is regardless of what history tells us about the past. Perhaps, I'm channeling a distant ancestor tired of our history being ignored. Maybe she'd like the Celts to get their due. We saved civilization but nobody seems to care what we were doing before that. I mean, I'm sure we were busy building our own civilization before we were consumed by a cultured carried on a tide of faith.

FEEDBACK: Tell me you love it, hate it, or could not care any less… p.phair@comcast.net

WARNINGS: Many of my customary vices; all sorts of sex, rape, violence, foul language, tortured history, evil, good, wicked awesome good, theft, lies, transgressions, slavery, war, hunger, despair, and all around very barbaric behavior.

PROMISE: As long as the ancient Celt haunting my dreams continues to tell me this story, I'll keep writing it down. This is what any generation would call a…

# Fair Trade

## by phair

Chapter 1

A steady wind from the east blew Ainninn's jet black hair back from her face. The long braids whipped wildly behind her. She studied the sea crashing against the ship's hull with more than a passing amusement. The waves seemed to be in precise harmony with the oars slicing into the water's surface to thrust the craft onward to Rome. Every stroke carried her further away from home. She ground her teeth to hold back the brooding despair the distance caused her lonely heart. Never before had she traveled so far from her own hearth. She promised herself that should the goddess allow her safe return, she would never again leave the isle of her birth; Iwernia.

“I'll be sick if we don't see land soon,” the deep voice of her traveling companion boomed beside her rousing her from her bleak thoughts.

Ainninn allowed a small grin to grace her lips as she replied, “Finntan, don't you mean, you'll be sick again?”

His laughter echoed on the wind. “This has been a horrid trip. What has not escaped my belly the usual way burns a path straight back the route it entered me by. I'll be happy to set both feet on dry soil.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear his next remark, “Even if the soil be fouled by those stinking, pukes of Roman curs.”

“They may rule the world, Finntan, but there's no worry any here will understand your contempt. Of course, if you whisper so you can stand close to your chieftain's daughter then continue the measure. Your bulk blocks the wind some, letting the meager sun warm me a bit,” she said in all seriousness but her eyes flashed with joy at the blush her teasing brought to his ruddy cheeks.

Finntan straightened up and glanced around at the rows of men pulling on the oars. Some were chained as convicts should be but others were newly freed slaves earning enough coins to begin their lives again. The few Roman soldiers present were more for a show of protection for the courier, who brought Ainninn's father the invitation to Senator Paullus summer villa, than a fierce military detachment bent on conquest. Even the courier was atypical of Roman fame. The dowdy, older man was nothing more than a genteel Greek slave.

“Are you sure none here understands our speech?” The big man shook his head in disgust. “I thought they claimed to be a learned bunch.”

“They are,” Ainninn reassured him. “But, none would bother to learn our words. They think us nothing more than barking hounds.”

Finntan turned angry quickly. “They must be taught to respect us. This is why I went to your father and begged him to let me slaughter the fiends in their sleep. Or better, meet them on the field to split their heads. Let their tiny brains and cold blood nourish the grass. When spring comes, the game would relish such a feast. They'd grow wild enough on it to fire the spirits of the oldest wretch among us.”

“No, my friend. The fields would be drenched in your blood and father's and every last one of our people. Not one of us would escape the Roman sword.” Ainninn clarified, “I would not be here if there were any other means. To resist them invites the fate of Iceni.”

“Boudica was a mad woman! Never advance on the invaders. Make them come to you,” Finntan spat back.

“See,” Ainninn said with a chuckle, “we are in agreement. We made the Romans come to us and now we go to negotiate. Finntan, I'd rather travel to see Paullus standing on the ship's deck than chained to an oar, a branded enemy of the Roman state. We must pick our battles well, my friend. If not, we will surely be the ones fertilizing the grassy fields for the spring game.”

The big man stayed quiet. His eyes darted between Ainninn and the distant horizon. She reached out and patted his shoulder to soften his obvious fiery.

“Save your anger for a fight that may still draw to our shores. There is no promise tomorrow will end well. Paullus wants something he feels he can not take from us. He'd not try to court dredges like us if there were another means to his ends.” Ainninn waited for Finntan to look her in the eye, “Romans are sneaky in the best of situations. I can not imagine how tricky they will be when desperate. I wish father came instead of me. I worry I'm not clever enough to match wits with Paullus.”

Finntan snorted a laugh before he spoke, “You? You not able to outmaneuver a Roman? Ha, I say right to your face. You'd be able to trip up Ernmas herself!”

Ainninn could not contain her own chuckle. “You blaspheme the goddess like she can not hear you. Gnim will not save you from her wrath. Watch your tongue lest she strikes you low.”

“I'll just have to trust you'll keep me from harm by claiming me in your good graces,” he replied.

“I'll see what I can do but in the mean time don't tempt your luck.”

Finntan thought a moment before perking up. “You said tomorrow. Are we that close? How can you tell? Does the goddess whisper in your ears so far from our home?”

“Oh yes, she comes to me each night to tuck me into my bunk and tell me of what's to come on the morning tide,” Ainninn teased.

“More likely that than you looking out into the great wet nothingness before us and spotting land between the waves,” Finntan grumbled.

“Or,” she winked as she spoke, “it could be I asked the ship's captain when we'd be ashore.”

“Yes, a clever one you are, Ainninn. Clever, in deeds and actions.”

She did not reply. Instead, she offered a reverent prayer to the goddess that her friend was right and she'd be capable of playing peacemaker with a Roman Senator.

* * *

“You are certain this is not Rome itself?” Finntan questioned as he scratched his bearded chin.

Ainninn drew her own astonished eyes from the lush vista beneath the balcony to answer, “The Greek said we were still more than a day's travel from the heart of Rome. This is Paullus' country villa which grows the grapes to make the wine which fills his coffers with gold.”

“Country villa? Look at the tended fields and stone cut homes and the people! Have you ever seen so many bending to the same task in one place. All this,” Finntan waved his arms wide at the expanse before them, “all of it belongs to one man?”

“It is unimaginable yet we both see it at once so it must be real,” Ainninn answered rationally but she too was awed by the scene. “I wonder how huge the city must be if they believe this is nothing more than quiet farmland.”

“It must be as broad as the ocean with men and beasts elbow to elbow.” Finntan shook his head in disapproval. “Whatever business this Roman has with us, we should finish it here. I'd rather not see their center. I worry madness would follow.”

A soft cough behind the pair startled them to seize their weapons from their scabbards. Ainninn held hers in a defensive posture but Finntan prepared to strike. He checked his blade inches from the neck of a dark skinned woman dressed only from the waist down in material so shear it was meaningless. Her fully exposed breasts were firmly rounded yet her passive nipples were unmoved by the imposing threat looming before them.

“A humble pardon but my Lord has sent me to announce your baths are prepared,” the woman voice was soft even speaking the gutteral language of Ainninn's people. “There is food and wine for your pleasure.”

Finntan lowered his weapon and asked Ainninn without taking his eyes from the woman, “Didn't you say none would know our words?”

“I did,” Ainninn answered with more than a little confusion. “In fact, I was sent simply because I was best among us forcing out Greek mumbles with my tongue. Had my father known how well the house of Paullus spoke our common words, I'm sure he'd be here and I'd be stirring my pot for the evening meal.”

“Pardon, once more. My Lord does not wish to converse in other than Greek so you are well chosen to meet with him. However, he thought for your comfort a slave able to understand your own speech would be welcome.” The woman was careful not to lift her gaze to meet Ainninn's own.

Ainninn cringed at the notion the woman before her was property. The concept was not alien to her people. In fact, had her father not possessed her mother she would never have known the world. But, the memories of the scars her mother bore still turned Ainninn's belly even now so many years after they laid the woman deep in the dirt.

“You're from the land of the Ptolemy,” Ainninn stated more than asked as she sheathed her weapon.

“Yes Domina,” the woman said respectfully so she was surprised by the sudden hardening of Ainninn's features.

Ainninn shook her head and pointed at the slave, “I'm not you mistress. He is not your master. Do not address us so.”

“She means no harm,” Finntan turned to calm Ainninn after replacing his sword in the scabbard. “She must show respect or they'll discipline her. Don't let your will play out on her back.”

“I won't have it, Finntan!” Ainninn's anger flared. “If she can not used my name then let her call me nothing!”

“Please,” the slave interrupted. “I can honor your wish to a point. If my Lord is present, I will defer to his rule. If it is only we three, I will be bound by your demands.”

Finntan smiled broadly, “Nothing could be more fair, Ainninn. She barters with your good sense. Justice must run in your mother's bloodline.”

Ainninn's temper cooled a bit but she scolded her friend, “Leave that long suffering wretch to her rest and not trouble her specter with this world.”

“Never forget, the wretch ended her days with a grin,” Finntan countered. “Should we all know such joy.”

“I beg your indulgence,” the slave gently interrupted. “The baths are prepared and can wait your leisure but the food is warm and the wine has a pleasant chill. It would be best to partake sooner than later.”

“Come now, girl, let her lead us to a scrap of food and a basin to rinse the salty air from our faces,” Finntan cajoled. “You'll feel the better for it, I'm sure of this.”

Ainninn nodded her head to the slave, “Shows us the way. We'll follow and behave as guests do.”

The woman grinned a bit. She understood Ainninn was trying to reassure her but was too stubborn to do so openly. She decided it was best to simply lead the pair and not provide the tour her master suggested until after they dined. Perhaps then, they'd be too tired to argue or wave their swords around.

“And, the master calls my manners savage,” she thought to herself as they traveled along the cool hall and down a winding stairway.

“Damned heat,” Finntan grumbled when they stepped into the courtyard. “The sun has doubled its efforts to cook our hides since we left the boat.”

The dark woman turned and encouraged him to continue to follow her, “The thermae is just over here. Not far at all. You'll be more than happy once you settle into the bath.”

Finntan stopped dead in his tracks. “Settle into? You mean get into the water?”

The woman nodded.

“Strike that notion down right there. I'll not step into water. I'm no fish. I'll sink to the bottom like a stone.”

Ainninn laughed and walked by him. “You must face your fear, man. Romans will not suffer your stench. They are a fastidious bunch and demand daily cleansing.”

“No, you lie!” Finntan followed if only to hear her answer.

“Bear me out, woman. Tell him I'm true,” Ainninn said as she strode by the slave and entered the baths first.

“It is required,” the woman stated simply and followed Ainninn's lead.

“I'd say ha to her face but she's turned and left me only her behind to mock. No fun in that,” Finntan muttered before taking up the rear.

Chapter 2

“This flimsy cloth catches and clings,” Finntan grumbled as he pulled the material away from his backside. “I do not like the way it tries to creep into my ass crack. My own clothes never behave in such an intrusive manner. We should have stopped the slave from taking them. We might still catch her if we hurry.”

Ainninn answered firmly so he would not be tempted to ask again. “No, we will not. As you said, the slave must obey her master and he instructed her to prepare us to meet with him. That included bathing, dining, and a change into Roman wear. Don't worry, I'm sure she'll bring our clothes back after she beats them against some rock in some nearby stream the Rome piss in each morning.”

“Clean them or will she bewitch them?” Finntan hissed.

“I never realized how much you fret, Finntan. Come now, you must seem like a brave warrior ready for battle,” Ainninn tried to encourage him with a bit of humor.

Finntan growled back across the foyer as he pulled up to his full height which was a hair or two less than Ainninn's, “I am prepared for battle always but there are no means on this earth to make ready for the treachery of women.”

Ainninn laughed lightly. She held her arms wide open. Allowing him a full view of her sleek and tall frame garb in the revealing Roman toga. Her body was usually well covered to guard against the cold winds of their home. Yet, her skin maintained a deeply tanned hue which was a testament to her mother's heritage.

“Do I look treacherous?”

Finntan nodded solemnly. “It is that exact reason why women are so dangerous. The gods have wrapped them in soft and warm skin making them appear harmless to the hapless fellow looking for a wee bit of comfort for his aching, hard cock.”

“My father would cut your tongue out for speaking so boldly,” Ainninn laughed. “You have luck I find your jabbering infinitely amusing.”

The rustling of the drapes drew the pair's attention to the archway. The dark female slave entered and approached them. Before speaking, she acknowledge Ainninn and Finntan with a low bow. Had she looked up, she would have seen Ainninn wince at the action.

“My pardon but I was sent to see if you are ready for your audience with Quintus,” she said.

Ainninn raised an eyebrow as she asked, “What of Paullus? We came to meet with him.”

“My Master is seated in the Senate still. He remains in Rome longer than he anticipated.”

Finntan's cheeks flushed as his anger spiked. He was never fully at ease. His quickness to a fight made him a great warrior. However, his nature did not lend itself to diplomacy.

“We travel for a moon and then some. We risk offense to our gods by leaving our lands. We travel the realm of sea demons. I've not been between a woman's thighs since the Romans inflicted this invitation on us. And, he's not here? A plague to this nation of ignorance.”

“Calm yourself,” Ainninn advised in a low tone. “The woman is not ignorant of us and her due loyalty is to the man holding her leash. Let us not speak so badly of our absent host lest he hear of our idle chatter which may make him less inclined to listen to our serious words.”

The slave eased back to allow them a small amount of privacy. She had no intentions of upsetting her Master's guests further.

“Woman,” Ainninn called to her, “will Paullus yet meet with us or are we to discuss these matters with his second only?”

Finntan muttered but loud enough for all to hear, “Perhaps, the man is thirds or fifths or maybe another Greek slave left to do his owner's bidding.”

“Finntan, stop,” Ainninn warned him.

“Please, hold no fear of me. My Lord would never wonder about your private conversation and I would never offer fodder for him to consider.”

“What do they call you?” Ainninn asked.

“My Master simply shouts for the Egyptian. I need no name. I'm his only Nile dweller.”

The woman stated the fact clearly. Ainninn, however, thought she heard some bitterness. And, who could blame a woman, slave or not, her regrets to being nameless.

“Tell me your name. My people have more than a few wandering Nile dwellers living among us.”

“And, you could pass for one yourself, Ainninn,” Finntan chuckled regaining some humor.

“My father called me Mery,” the woman offered.

Ainninn nodded. “My mother let my father name me Ainninn. We will share this between us. You have my blessing to call me what you must when others abound.”

“Perhaps, she knows your mother's kin,” Finntan interrupted with a sudden and stray thought. “They being countrymen and all. How big is this Egypt of yours, Mery? Would you know the kin of a lost girl called Tahemetnesu?”

Mery smiled and said, “So, your father is a powerful man, Ainninn.”

“He is but what made you ask?” Ainninn questioned.

“Your mother took his title as her name. Tahemetnesu means ‘the king's wife.' She must have been very special to him; not a hostage or slave.”

Ainninn shook her head no. “My father was gifted with the girl by a band of thieves seeking safe haven amoung our people. He accepted her and let them sleep the night under our stars. They went on their way with first light leaving her behind.”

“And, I rode out after them and sliced their throats. Thieves will always return to steal from a foolish host,” Finntan stated.

Ainninn grew was sullen as Finntan bragged. Her thoughts always darkened with memories of the woman she lost too soon. The mother who promised she would love her until the sun rose no more and the Nile ran dry. Tahemetnesu began her days with Ainninn's father as his property but soon became his mate. A courageous woman able to manage the rages of warlord which soon became the whims of a king with the same ease she soothed Ainninn's scraps and cuts. Yet, she had not shared the most personal of all titles with her husband or her daughter. To learn this so long after her demise and from a stranger, reopened Ainninn's grief and deepened its sting.

“We should make haste to attend Quintus' festivities. He has an afternoon of entertainment to delight you,” Mery tried to lift the dark mood she watched descend on Ainninn.

“This holds promise of some interest if not of successful negotiations,” Finntan slapped Ainninn on the back as he spoke. “Let us be good little visitors and attend our host's lackey, shall we?”

“Lead on,” Ainninn sighed resigning herself to a dull afternoon of whatever the Romans considered a pleasant attraction. She thought to herself, “If enduring this gets me that much closer to sailing back the way I came then so be it.”

* * *

“Goddess! Look at those paws and fangs,” Finntan shouted watching the action below the viewing box. “The beast will devour them whole!”

“That is the general idea,” Quintus sniffed his curt answer after Mery dutifully translated the comment.

A big black cat menaced a pair of fighters trapped in the arena. The animal was massive and easily outweighed his opponents combined bulk. It swatted and growled at the man and woman chain by the wrists trapped. They worked in tandem to keep it at bay but had not been able to land even a glancing blow.

Ainninn's belly roiled. The carnage they had already witnessed was bloody enough. Four rounds of men had faced the couple already. Each match ended with crippling or mortal wounds to the opponents. Yet, it apparently was not enough for the Roman's bloody appetite. Quintus insisted on continuing the games, as he called them, for as long as the luckless couple remained standing.

It had been a very long afternoon and the fighters were showing their fatigue before the cat was set upon them. The man was as black as the woman was white and he stood head and shoulders above her. He was definitely right handed and she was absolutely left handed. It was by these preferred appendages they were so cruelly joined by six feet of iron chain. Leaving them little choice but to use their weaker limbs. Still, they were well seasoned and fought as one team.

The cat lunged forward with the claws of his right paw deployed. The strike connected and took a chunk of flesh from the man's thigh. The woman did not lose the opportunity to answer the attack. Her bladed pierced the paw on its retreat. Throwing her full weight behind the blow, she pinned the paw to the blood drench ground. The man, in spite of his waning strength was able to thrust his sword into the beast's neck until it passed through to the other side. A quick jerk left followed by another right removed the head from the neck.

“They are quite skilled,” Ainninn observed in Greek allowing her to directly address Quintus. “You've trained them well. I'm surprised you'd risk losing talent like their's in a marathon for only our sport. We have surely seen enough. I assure you there's no need to continue these diversions. We should hasten to talk treaty allowing Romans safe passage across our lands.”

Quintus turned his head from the gory field to look at Ainninn. “You don't find these games to your liking?”

Ainninn shrugged and tried to answer without offending the man. “We are unaccustom to spectacle. We save our blood letting for war. Wrestling and competitions with sword skill end as soon as the evening meal is ready to eat. Our life is much simpler than the Roman ways.”

“Well, if the games are too refined for your understanding, we can adjourn in doors and discuss the treaty. I will have the guards supervise these two in their final bout,” Quintus said.

He could not completely hide his disdain for Ainninn's lack of cultural appreciation. A thin trace of a smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth. He pointed to one of the soldiers at the edge of the arena and the man moved toward the fighers on the field.

“The fighting will continue on regardless of an audience? Why?” Ainninn asked as she watched the soldier unchain the pair and faced them off against each other.

“They are condemned. One will die on the field and the other will be crucified,” Quintus answered and fanned himself with a fold of palm fronds. “They displeased their master so they earned this misery. But, an all around robust outing, you must agree. If they are capable of thought, they may realize now death is the only end. Most likely this contest will be a bore when they begin to wonder why they struggled so long delaying the enevitable.”

Ainninn swallowed back the bile trying to rise from her gut as Quintus laughed. “They don't know their lives end today? They think they will live to see another sun rise? They fight because they think they can win another day?”

Quintus was surprised by the paling of her cheeks. “One does not tell a pig it is off to the butcher. It is not necessary to tell slaves the fate they've earned. Such foolish notions you backwoods people entertain.”

Ainninn watched as the pair struggle to best each other. The man was rapidly losing blood but his outweighed the woman. His reach was long and he used it to his advantage as he clipped her chin with the hilt of his sword. The woman stumbled and fell. Her blade was knocked from her grasp. She scrambled backwards trying for distance and footing enough to stand. The man was staggering but it was obvious he would easily catch and slaughter her before he breathed his last.

“Stop the match!” Ainninn lept up and screamed in a bastardized Latin Vulgate to get both the guards' and the fighters' attention.

The action on the field stopped leaving Quintus to flap his gums in disbelief. He finally found his feet and his words after several moments of utter silence.

“Are you mad?”

“They are fine warriors! If you meant to kill them then you should have done so directly. To tandem fight them in battle after battle against men and beasts before setting them on each other is more than a punishment,” Ainninn ranted at the man even as Finntan stood behind her prepared to intervene if needed. “To treat them with such contempt is despicable. I will not have it. The goddess would never forgive me for abandoning an honorable warrior. Give them into my care.”

“What? No!” Quintus shouted back.

“For a man who so wants to hear yes from my lips when we talk treaty, you are very quick to say no,” Ainninn warned.

“You'd endanger all your people over two condemned slaves? You must be mad!” Quintus was fuming, “They will die where they stand on my command.”

“Do it if you'd like,” Ainninn eased her tone, “but I promise you, we will take our leave of this villa before their blood dries into the dirt. My father would never agree to a treaty signed after the senseless slaughter of warriors any sane witness would judge winners. Their skill should be heralded instead, you would crucify them over a slight. That, sir, is madness.”

Before Quintus could reply, the tall black man in the arena crumbled to his knees. He fell face first into the dirt. His body shuddered once then stilled forever. The woman lifted her face to glare at the Roman and his guests in the viewing box. Her hatred simmered like the sand beneath her feet.

“Apparently, I can not meet your previous demands even if I would have been prone to consider the notion. But, there seems some sport in a bit of bartering between us yet. Will you negotiate if there is only one warrior remaining?” Quintus baited Ainninn further, “Her life won't end for long hours on that cross should you storm out. Would you condemn the Viking to a grisly fate when I maybe more than ready to spare her?”

“She's no Viking. Her legs are stubby, her body compact. Germanic, I wager,” Ainninn corrected him. “Rare to capture. Rarer to keep living in chains. Foolish to destroy such a valuable prize. Let Finntan, take her into our care. Let you and I not merely negotiate then. Let's, we two, forge an agreement before moon rise. You say yes she's spared and I'll say yes to a fair treaty.”

“A pact it is then,” Quintus' eyes narrowed with his cold smile. “The deal is struck.”

Chapter 3

The moon was high in the night sky when Ainninn returned to the rooms her host porvided. She was surprised to see a candle still burned. However, she was not surprised to see Finntan was keeping the flame company.

“Blame me not if you are in a foul mood when the sun shines above us again,” Ainninn said with a voice hoarse from hours of conversation.

“Did the evening go in our sway?” Finntan ignored her teasing to ask about the negotiations.

“It went as good as we could hope for with the Romans. Father will be compensated with foods and wines and a few coins in exchange for safe passage from the shore to the next clan's territory beyond the mountains.” Ainninn had a question of her own to ask, “What of the warrior slave? Did you obtain her?”

“Yes, she's in your sleeping chamber but wait a moment more with me before off to bed,” Finntan rose from his chair as he spoke. “I would ask you to hear me out on one matter which I feel most strongly about.”

Ainninn cocked her head and grinned. “I hear you out on all things. It is too hard to silence your booming voice.”

“I wish for you to follow this advise tonight,” Finntan ignored her jest to explain. “I bound the woman hand and foot and secured her to a ring bolt diven into the stone floor for just that purpose.”

“You were right to give me warning. Otherwise, I'd not be inclined to hear this through,” Ainninn said bitterly. “I will listen but I'm most unhappy doing so.”

Finntan maintained a steady voice in spite of her displeasure. “We know only one thing for sure about this woman, she is fierce in the fight. Both of us need to take some rest. There is no means for us to keep a careful watch with any certainty we'll not drift off to the land of dreams and elves. For your safety, which your father charged me to keep, I tied her down and she should remain so until we both are rested.”

“Did you tell her why you treated her so roughly?” Ainninn saw the logic behind Finntan's action but the idea of chaining the battered slave grated against her nerves.

Finntan shook his head as he answered, “She said naught to me. My words evoked no movements from her. The Nile dweller's skilled tongue was no better than mine with the woman. Mery tells me in the moons the woman has been under Paullus' control, she failed to learn the most basic Vulgate. Greek, Latin, Egyptian have all been tried. They even tried an Iceni slave's prattle. The woman stares like a post when commanded to obey and must be prodded with a whip to act. And, Mery said what little the woman does speak she makes no known human sounds she can decipher.”

Ainninn said, “You make good points. She can not understand and we are too exhausted to guard against any harm she might want to cause us. I will abide by your logic. I'm sorry to doubted your wisdom.”

“Ainninn, I know why your heart breaks with this. The memories of your mother's anguish maybe distant but that would not make them less sharp.” He saw her duck her head as she tried to hide the truth from him. “Girl, your mother turned your father's heart. He accepted she bested him in all things which could matter to his fame. Yes, she began as his slave. He was often heavy handed with her but she prevailed. The memories bother you more than they troubled her when the blood ran hot in her veins. I swear this to you.”

Ainninn could only nod a reply. She knew her voice would betray her weakness. Finntan's bear like embrace was a welcome support.

“Had she not died with fever, I've no doubt she would have accompanied your father on this journey. He would have proclaimed her to all of Rome his Queen,” Finntan whispered hin Ainninn's ear. “Now, we need to be off to bed. Your place is to the west and mine is to the east. I envy you the closer berth to home.”

“Why two? We traveled here nearly sharing a bunk and now we are on opposite sides on the hall?” Ainninn asked as she regained some humor with his words.

Finntan blushed as he replied, “The Nile dweller and I, well, she's been seeing to my needs. Our noise would keep you from your rest. Our noise might keep the dead from their rest.”

“You tease me,” Ainninn gasped. “You bedding a wench of foreign blood? Tell me no.”

“I can not. The woman is sweet and gentle to me. She offered a number of bodies to pick from but I liked the way she touched me in the baths. Her soft fingers are tender but firm,” he confessed.

“Don't keep her waiting, man. Do what you want but be gone from me,” Ainninn grinned as she spoke. “Indulge tonight. Perhaps, we'll make the tide by midday.”

“You're lips to Gnim's ears.”

Ainninn watched her friend depart for his room before extinguishing the candle he kept his vigil by. She stretched and took a deep breath before heading for her chamber. The slave might be restrained but Ainninn did not want to show any weakness in spite of her exhaustion. No need to let the woman think there was a means to gain an upper hand under a new household.

“Finntan thinks of everything,” Ainninn muttered to herself when she saw the slave was not just chained but also gagged and blindfolded.

Her voice brought an immediate change to the bound woman. Muscles stiffened to the limits of her teathers and she cocked her head slightly as if to pick up a scent on the breeze. Of course, seated in chains on the cool marble floor with her back to the wall there was little else the woman could do.

The metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles were tightly fastened together and shackled to a ring bolt between her feet. A metal collar around her neck was on a short leash to the same ring bolt. The restraints allowed her to rest her forehead on knees but forced her to keep her legs bent toward her chest. Sweat glistened on her cleansed and naked skin from hours of enduring the stress the position caused her body.

Ainninn moved like she would on a hunt. The woman responded by turning her head toward each step Ainninn took. A step to the left and the woman's weight shifted ever so slightly to keep what she could not see approaching her directly in front of her body.

“It would seem she has, at least, an animal's wit for tracking game,” Ainninn noted casually in her native tongue.

The woman stopped following the movements with Ainninn's words. She cringed a little closer to her legs. It was not in preparation for a beating. It was an action more of dissappointment than defensiveness.

“You know my words. Don't play false with me. I'm fair and patient but will not play a fool's game,” Ainninn warned and saw the woman shrink down a little more but there was a slight dip of her head in aknowledgement. “Have you understood your master all along and this ignorance of speech you display is but a rouse to avoid your burdens?”

Ainninn reached down and pulled the gag free. The woman's chin was deeply purple from the hit with the sword hilt during the battle's finally minutes.

“Had I understood the Roman honks, I would have suffered much less from their whips,” she answered firmly but in a hoarse voice that betrayed her fatigue. Her accent was thick and barely intelligible to Ainninn but the question was clear, “You are a Gaul? A distant cousin of my tribe, perhaps? Your words are very close to my own but the inflection is hard ignore. If you but slow a bit it will be easier for me to get your meaning always.”

Ainninn stepped up next to her and the woman flinched.

“I meant no familiarity. I wish only to follow your commands well. If you are wont to beat me, please kill me instead. The pain is too heavy as it is. Increasing it will make my suffering unbarable,” the woman's voice dropped into a whisper.

Ainninn knelt next to her and pulled the blindfold free. The woman blink against the weak light from two candles. Bruises ran along her sun bleached yellow hairline on the left. A deep cut was stitched closed on her right temple. Ainninn placed a hand on either side of the woman's face and looked into her blue, gray wolf-like eyes.

“Never let an opponent know you suffer. Surely, they will inflict just enough more pain to maximize your grief but not enough to let you squirm your way to final freedom in death.” Ainninn tipped the woman's head side to side watching the grimaces and changes in her eyes, “Too many hits to the skull will free you from waking but it will be miserable days before your body gives up its ghost. How many blows connected today?”

“I can not remember.”

“What can you remember?”

The woman was quiet for a moment before lifting hardened eyes to meet Ainninn's own. “I killed more than two men and cut one to the bone so deep he'll never walk again and trapped a beautiful beast for slaughter. Had you not ended the match, I would surely be suffering no more. Tell me if you are Gaul or not so I might curse your interferrence freely without troubling any common ancestors.”

“Do I look like a Gaul?” Ainninn chuckled as she sat back on her haunches. “When last did you see skin like mine covering a Gaul?”

The woman stayed serious in spite of Ainninn's humor. “You're no Gaul by the look of you. I guessed your heritage entirely by your words. Are you captured booty like me?”

“No, I'm free born of my father. My mother was the prize he held in bondage. I'm half a Celt and that is all of me that matters to anyone. What of you? The Romans call you Viking.”

The woman laughed at the thought.

“So worldly our hosts are they can not tell a tall Norse boatman from a squat axe wielder from the east,” Ainninn mocked them too. “So, are you Germanic? You words are not as good as theirs. Still close enough for me sift out the meaning. What are you and what name do you carry? Tell me so that I may stop calling you Viking; a promotion beyond your reach.”

“I'm a Suebi. My people live across the Rhine. Our words are similar but not exactly Gaul like. Unlike you, my head can not hold another's babbling. They tried to make me listen but it was for not.” She grimaced then, “I was only able to understand the whip's tongue and they wielded it liberally carving a litany on my back.”

“A name, you have one or should I shout Suebi when my whip needs a target,” Ainninn said with a yawn.

“Are you my leash holder now?”

Ainninn gave her a stern warning, “Answer my questions, do not provide your own. If you forget your place with me and press your own agenda, your back will be bared for my litany.”

“Pardon,” the woman lowered her gaze. “I can not tell what the Romans call me, if it's a name or a curse. Among my own people, I was called Dru.”

“I've no need to change that. Keep it and say it so when asked.” Ainninn could not contain another yawn. “I need a bed to find some rest before the sun comes again. You should sleep too. Don't expect much of your condition to change with me. All that is altered is where you'll serve not that you'll serve.”

Dru said nothing. Her eyes smoldered and her mouth twitched with an ache to speak. But, she managed to keep her peace.

“It is good you heard my warning about your tongue but mark this too,” Ainninn said and slapped Dru's cheek lightly for effect. “If you can not mask your anger keep you face to the floor and show me nothing but a respectful bow.”

Dru shruddered slightly but managed to reply, “Yes, Mistress.”

Ainninn stood feeling the full weight of the new title but refused to show weakness to her new slave.

“How did I let myself be saddled with this responsibility?” She asked herself as she strode off to bed.

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