The Grain Merchant, page 3
“Well, if it’s about business, I’m sure he will want to meet with you. My strength is numbers, not making the agreement.”
“Yes, well, is that possible? Could I meet with him now?”
“Oh, no. As usual, he is traveling.” A small frown furrowed her brow. “But, he was due back last night. He planned to attend the same town meeting. Some terms of agreement must have delayed his return. He doesn’t stop until he’s reached the terms he sets. He is quite the bargainer. That’s why we make such a good partnership. He is firm with people, and I’m solid with numbers.”
“If you could…”
“Oh, I’ll tell him.” Then she actually winked. “I’ll tell him to give you a special rate.”
“No, no. It’s not about a transaction. The overseer at the villa makes all those arrangements. I need to talk to him about…”
“Oh, Proba! What are you doing?” A woman’s voice cut him off.
Fabia, Proba’s mother, scurried into the office. “This is no place to entertain a patrician. You must learn to…”
Argolicus could see where this was going. He cut her off.
“Fabia Pompeia, I asked to see what Proba does. She was showing me the system she developed. I’m quite impressed.”
Fabia gave him a huge smile. “Oh, I’m so glad the two of you are getting on. It was my idea to talk to your mother about a marriage. It’s good to see the two of you together like this.” She gave an approving smile to Proba.
“Mother, we’re not getting married. We both agreed that it wouldn’t work.”
“Oh? I’m sure you can iron out little difficulties. That’s what all couples do. The differences fade with time…”
“Mother. We are not getting married. We both agreed.”
“But, but,” Fabia spluttered. She turned to Proba and spoke with approbation. “Take him back to the entertainment room. Honor our guest. Let go of business for one afternoon.”
She turned to Argolicus. “My daughter is headstrong even if she is tiny. I apologize for…”
“No need to apologize,” Argolicus said. He looked over to Proba, and she winked again.
“A good idea, Mother,” Proba said. “Tell the kitchen to send us more food and some honeyed wine.”
She strode out of the office back toward the entertainment room. Argolicus followed, leaving the perplexed Fabia wringing her hands in the office, hoping for a marriage that would not happen.
Once they were back and seated, Proba laughed. “She doesn’t understand. You handled her so well. I usually end up in an argument.”
Argolicus smiled. “Years in Rome. I’m sure she thinks she has your best interest at heart. Mothers want what they think is best for their children. Sometimes that means overlooking who their children really are.”
“You are a remarkable man.” Proba spoke without thinking the words, then shook her head. “No. I mean you are, but I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. I don’t spend much time in the company of men. I’m sure you can tell.”
Servants entered with a new platter of gustum, clear glasses, and a pitcher of wine. They set down the platter with a bowl of melon pieces cooked in spices and two small omelets filled with tiny fish, raisins, and oregano.
When Proba took a bite of her omelet, she smiled. Argolicus wondered at how quickly she had gone from the earlier glazed look to her smile now. It was only a matter of minutes.
“Without giving your mother false hopes, I think we could be friends,” he said.
“I like that idea. Mother’s life is full of female friends. They gossip. I have no interest in gossip. I don’t have friends. You know, friends to just talk and spend time with.”
Argolicus nodded. He remembered how he’d had similar thoughts about himself. Friendship was hard to find. Except for his neighbor Ebrimuth, of the king’s people, he relied on Nikolaos for companionship.
“Good,” Argolicus said, thinking he had just made his first friend in town. “These melons are delicious.”
He nibbled while Proba talked. He decided that moving to town was a positive action. Not only that, he wasn’t a dealer like Proba’s father but he knew he wasn’t cut out to manage a country estate.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in friendship.
4
Outside, the evening air encouraged people in the street, but they were not happy. They jostled and shouted. Clusters of men yelled in angry voices. Over and over, Argolicus heard What about us? Low murmurs to loud chants. Even though it was not dark, some carried torches. The feeling was fierce and eruptive.
Events like this didn’t reach the peaceful villa in the hills. Argolicus understood that in whatever form—town meeting, an afternoon of talk, or out in the street—contact with people was a new element in his life. As he was lost in thought, a group of young men pushed him. They made it seem as though it were unintentional, but their looks told him the action was deliberate.
He found himself in a small alley between two large homes, a passageway for slaves to carry goods in and out. A stack of boxes was piled up against a wall, waiting to be taken inside.
He heard a sobbing noise behind the boxes and took a step into the alleyway. At first, he saw nothing. Then a pair of red-rimmed eyes peered at him above tear-stained cheeks. The young girl cringed and pulled back against the wall. Her brown hair was matted. Her tunic showed worn seams.
“I won’t hurt you,” Argolicus said, thinking she was a slave from one of the buildings. “Just go back in. Everything will work out.” He knew that wasn’t always the case, but it seemed the right thing to say to get her to stop crying. Children baffled him. They seemed to turn emotions on and off in minutes.
She stopped sobbing. “There is no go back in. I have no place to go. I don’t belong anywhere.” Then the sobs erupted again.
Argolicus started with the simplest, most straightforward thing. “What’s your name?”
“Severa,” she said, wiping tears off her cheek and smudging her face in the process.
“Severa, you don’t have a home?”
She shook her head. “They… I heard them… they… slave master.” She looked up from her incoherence. Her eyes were deep brown filled with pleading. “My parents. They found a slave master. I heard them. I heard them talking. They weren’t going to tell me. They were going to take me into town and then hand me over. I know what happens to girls. It’s worse than being poor on a small farm. That’s just work.” This time the tears rolled down silently. Her shoulders trembled.
“Your parents were going to sell you, so you ran away? Is that right?”
She nodded her head. “Don’t take me back home. I won’t go. A place where they sell their own children is not a home.”
“Would you like a home? A place where you wouldn’t be sold and nothing bad would happen to you?”
She nodded again, then stopped in thought. “But where would that be?”
“Up in the hills. I know a very nice woman who can always use help.”
“Oh, I can do so many things. I sew. I clean. I work in the kitchen. I harvest crops…”
“I can take you there tomorrow. First, have you eaten? Would you like something to eat?”
She nodded and wiped her cheeks again. “I’m very hungry.”
“Good. I know just the place where we can go and get you food. It’s not far from here. My new home. I just moved in yesterday.” He reached out his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”
She hesitated, then stood up, and reached out her small hand. When she stood, Argolicus realized she was older than he had first thought. Her tiny breasts pushed against her tunic. No wonder she was afraid. He took her hand and led her back into the street.
“Stay close to me. There are many people in the streets tonight.”
Severa tightened her grip on his hand. “What is your name?” she asked in a small voice.
“Argolicus, Gaius Vitellius Argolicus. We’re going to my father’s house. I’m trying to get used to thinking of it as mine. It’s safe in there and there’s food.”
He heard the sound of horse hooves on the street and made sure they stayed to the side. The horsemen were calling, “Disperse. Disperse.” The street crowds pushed Argolicus and Severa forward as the horsemen approached. The girl tightened her grip even more if that were possible and pressed against Argolicus. He could feel her trembling.
“Don’t be afraid. The horsemen are trying to clear the streets of all these people. Just stay close and follow me.”
As the horses drove the people forward, the street filled with the people urged on by their shouts of “Disperse.”
Argolicus said, “We’ll stay to the side of the street, out of the way of the horsemen. We’ll be there very soon.” Severa nodded her head, but her eyes were wide with fear.
Argolicus could hear the horses panting now. The crowd pressed on every side. Suddenly, a voice called, “Argolicus.”
He turned his head. The horsemen were right behind them. In front was a large, muscular man with a wild mane of blond hair, guiding his horse with his thighs. He pulled on the reins and signaled the men behind him to keep going.
He hopped down from the horse, sword and long fighting knife hanging from his belt, and gave Argolicus a hug. Then he pushed back and said in a burst of energy, “What are you doing here? Look at these crowds. Where are you going? Who is this?”
He turned to survey the crowd while Argolicus answered.
“I’m moving to Father’s house. I’m going there now. This is Severa, she’s coming with me.”
Ebrimuth towered over her and smiled. “Severa, a nice name. You’ve found one of the best men in all of Bruttium.”
Severa nodded her head but kept her eyes down.
“Now,” Ebrimuth said, “you need to get home and stay off the streets. Things are getting rough. There was a fire down by the warehouses.”
“First, I have a question,” Argolicus said. “Why are you patrolling the streets? Isn’t that the work of the peace warden?”
“Our friend, Cassiodorus. That’s why.” Ebrimuth moved his massive shoulders to loosen them. “I’ve been appointed by the king.”
“Appointed? What do you mean?”
Ebrimuth stood his full height, inches taller than Argolicus, and said, “You are looking at the comes civitatus. You may call me Count, if you like.” A grin spread over his chiseled face. His energized body seemed ready to bound up or away, filled with drive and vitality.
Argolicus smiled at his friend. “Ah, Cassiodorus. Leave it to him to remember his childhood friends. Be wary. I was appointed to Rome and wasn’t happy. I’m glad to be back here.”
A new group of ruffians marched toward them, chanting. They glared at Ebrimuth and his horse as they walked past. Silently they broke up and walked off to side streets and alleys.
Severa continued to grip Argolicus’ hand. She looked up at the tall, blond Ebrimuth.
“Don’t worry, little one. No one will harm you. You have Argolicus to stand firm and me to defend you.”
Severa nodded but said nothing.
“She’s hungry,” Argolicus said. “We were on our way to the house to get her some food.”
Ebrimuth raised an eyebrow, wanting to know but not asking.
“I just met her,” Argolicus said, partially answering the unasked question. “She’ll be up near you soon. I’m taking her to the estate tomorrow.”
“Aha, we’ll be neighbors,” Ebrimuth said.
Severa nodded. Then gave him a timid smile.
Ebrimuth focused his attention back on Argolicus. “You shouldn’t be walking the streets alone. These are unsettled times. I know you are used to your freedoms but right now you need a bodyguard or two. I’ll send you two.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“You do. You live with your books. You have no idea what is happening not just in the streets of town, but on the roads. People are unhappy and groups are turning violent, especially against landowners and the clerics. You may not carry weapons under the king’s law. It’s foolish to go without bodyguards. These are troubling times.”
Argolicus shrugged his shoulders in exasperation.
Ebrimuth continued, “I’ll send them to your house tonight. I have a couple of fellows in mind. They are loyal, trustworthy, and fierce.” He gave Argolicus a salute, leaped on his horse, and rode down the street to catch up with his men.
“There you are, Severa. Two protectors. You don’t need to be afraid. Now, let’s get you some food.”
He led her down the street to the town house. They were greeted at the door by the imposing doorman, with dark, impenetrable eyes.
“See, Severa,” Argolicus said as they stood in the vestibule, “you have a protector here, as well.” He turned to the doorman. “Tell me your name, again.”
The massive man bowed his head and answered, “Boden, Your Sublimity.”
“Boden. This is Severa, she is staying with us.”
Nikolaos appeared with news. “Master, all the rooms are cleaned. Your bedroom is set. Your books are in the library. Your notes are in the study. You see the doorman is here. The cook is making dinner.”
“Good,” Argolicus said. “Let’s eat in the peristylum. We have a hungry guest. This is Severa.”
Nikolaos eyed the girl and gave Argolicus a questioning look. Argolicus mouthed the word ‘later’.
In a few minutes Argolicus, Severa, and Nikolaos clustered around a table with a salad of olives, bread bits soaked in vinegar, and greens, flatbread, and cheese. Severa’s eyes opened wide.
Nikolaos had found a woman in the kitchen to help the girl wash and lend her a clean tunic. Her face was symmetrical, classic, and fresh from cleaning. Her skin was even-toned except for her pink cheeks.
“Go ahead, eat,” Argolicus said, encouraging her.
She broke off a piece of bread and tested the salad with a tiny bite.
“We made good choices at the market,” Nikolaos said. “The cook has organized his staff, and they’ve been working since early morning. The housemaster, Crispus, is the one who readied the entire house. You’ll find it turning into a home.”
“Well, the food is good,” Argolicus said.
A servant came out holding a tray with steaming bowls of stew.
“There’s more?” Severa asked. Her eyes opened wide again.
Argolicus chuckled. “You won’t have to go hungry again. You will see that my mother keeps the best kitchen. She loves food.”
They heard voices at the front door and Boden’s voice saying, “Around the back.”
Severa peered into the stew and sniffed. “What is this?”
Nikolaos who had just taken his first bite said, “Seafood. Oysters and mussels. Herbs. Dates.”
She dipped her spoon and sipped.
Argolicus felt the gap between this girl’s life and his. Food was something that happened daily. For Severa, food was a scarcity. Bread and vegetables were her regular fare.
“I like it,” Severa said, dipping her spoon again.
“Master, your bodyguards,” a voice said from across the courtyard of the peristylum. The housemaster stood in front of two large men. A redhead and a man who was dark for The People. They towered over the small but thick housekeeper. Argolicus knew if he stood, the men would both be taller than he was.
“I’m Kunimund,” the dark one said in Their Language. “We’ve pledged to Ebrimuth to defend you against any and all. This is Eboric.” He nodded toward the redhead.
Argolicus rose. “I’m grateful to Ebrimuth. But as I told him, I’m not certain I need bodyguards,” he said in Their Language. Then he switched to Latin. “Do you speak Latin? That’s what we use here in my household.”
They nodded.
“Not well,” Eboric said.
“Well, you’ll have practice here. Have you eaten?”
They both shook their heads from side to side.
“Go in the kitchen,” Argolicus said. “You’ll always eat well here. Tell the cook who you are. Remember, Latin.”
They headed to the kitchen in a clatter of long knives and swords, leather creaking
Crispus, the housemaster, said, “I’ll give them a room across from yours.” He headed in the direction of the main bedroom at the back of the house.
Nikolaos smiled. “Master, your household is growing. Will we be trailed by those two from now on?”
“So it seems,” Argolicus said. “Ebrimuth thinks they are necessary. You’ve been inside today. The streets are filled with restive groups—marching, chanting. I’ve seen the What about us? graffiti all over the walls. Unless I solve this problem of the grain shortage, it will get worse. Let’s get this little one to bed.”
Severa was drowsing over the food. Nikolaos stood and lifted her over his shoulder like a little child. “Where to, Master?”
Tessera - Chalk
Boden could understand Latin, even though he didn’t speak it well. But for a marketable slave, language skills were not a high priority.
He stood on the platform, naked to the blazing sun, far away from his home country north of Italy.
The market for large men had dwindled after the close of harvest. The two other men on the platform stood abject, but Boden decided that his Burgundian pride would never let him be like that. No matter how little food he had or the rough treatment from the slave master, they could never break his spirit.
As the slave master presented four girls on another platform, the crowd turned away uninterested, except for one man. He was a curious fellow, small, lithe, compact, and dark except for the touches of gray at his temple. A pampered slave, from his looks. He studied Boden.
“Has this man served in a household?” the little man asked the slave master, nodding his head toward Boden.
The slave master eyed the small man and answered, “These are strong men destined for heavy work, you’ll find the household slaves over there.” He gestured toward another platform crammed with men and women.
“These men barely speak Latin, they’re good for fieldwork, not much else.” He looked at the little slave again. “I’m sure you’ll find something for your master over there.”
