then uncertain, wavering, and the startled, vulnerable expression in her eyes, her suddenly paled, sensitive, exquisite features, the parted, ready, inviting, kissable lips, in that large, strange emporium, I had sensed she belonged at a man’s feet. Had I gestured imperiously to my feet, I had the sense she might have crawled to me and placed her lips upon them. But then she half cried out, and fled away. I thought she might do. Yes, I thought. Put her on a chain, and train her, and she might do very nicely. She would respond well to male domination, to command, to being collared, to being helplessly owned. Her fulfillment would be to be a man’s possession. The judgment of my colleagues, too, had borne me out. She would need little breaking to the collar. She had, I suspected, worn one, so to speak, since puberty. Yes, I thought, she would feed well beside a man’s table, or from his hand. She would be incomplete and miserable without a master. She was a slave, a lovely slave. I must forget her!
Several others, some with slaves, had then entered the dining hall. Some were free women who, naturally, regarded the slaves with satisfaction and contempt. Two approached my table.
I had not invited them.
“Put her in a collar,” said one of them to me, of my slave.
“She has been recently purchased,” I said. “That omission will be soon rectified.”
I supposed that some of the metal workers’ shops would now be open.
“Animals look well in collars,” said the other.
“True,” I said. I wondered how she might look in a collar. Given the veiling, it was hard to tell.
“Clothe her,” said the first woman.
Tears formed in the eyes of the girl from Asperiche.
Few things can so reduce and humiliate a female slave as the withering, contemptuous glance of a free woman.
There would be little to protect them from free women, if it were not for masters.
“I will consider the matter,” I said.
I supposed that one or another of the cloth workers’ shops would be open, or soon open.
“Apparently you cannot afford to clothe her,” said the first woman.
“Or are too cheap to do so,” said the second.
“Here is a tarsk-bit,” said the first woman. “It should be enough for a tunic.”
“Or a rag,” said the other.
I stood up, and slipped the coin in my wallet.
“You are both thoughtful and generous, kind, noble ladies,” I said to them, “and doubtless you are both as beautiful as you are beneficent.”
“Perhaps,” said one, provocatively.
“Let us see,” I said.
“What?” they cried.
I seized them both, and flung them on their bellies across the small table, with a clatter, amidst the dishes, and the residue of food.
It was a simple matter, then, to keep them in place.
I jerked back their hoods, and tore away their veils.
“Behold!” laughed a fellow. “Two are face-stripped!”
Some of the free women, at the other tables, stood. One had screamed, two gasped. “Interfere!” said one of them to a fellow, standing, watching, he presumably her companion. “Not at all!” he laughed, striking his left shoulder twice with the flat of his right hand. “Beast!” she cried to him. “Do something!” said another free woman to her escort, or companion. “I am,” he said. “I am watching.” “Take me home,” she said. “Later,” said he, “after breakfast.” “Now!” she said. “I would not hazard the streets of Brundisium alone,” he said. She remained standing beside him, and seemed pleased enough to be doing so.
“Remove their sandals,” I ordered my slave, “and give me the straps.”
“Stop!” cried one of the free women, and then the other.
I tied the hands of each behind her back.
Each had long hair, and, by the hair, I fastened them together, knotting them, head to head, close to one another.
“No!” they cried, as my knife parted garment after garment.
“Have no fear,” I said. “I will stop with the last garment.”
“Sleen!” cried one.
“Perhaps I will not stop with the final garment,” I said.
“We are free women!” cried the other. “Free women!”
“Have mercy,” cried one, “mercy!”
“Ah, silk,” I said, “and not overly long.”
“Beast, monster!” said the other.
“Have no fear,” I said.
I pulled them by the hair to their feet. They were now face-stripped, barefoot, and bound.
I regarded them.
“I find both of you inferior to my slave,” I said.
“Sleen, sleen!” hissed one.
“Ah,” I said, “a sleen! Here are your purses. If you wish them, you may carry them in your mouth, as might a pet sleen.”