friendliness. They all had an air of complete hopelessness and misery, as if nothing in the world mattered at all. However, just at that moment, another one was joined to the line, and Karen turned to him. She guessed him to be seventeen or eighteen, and she thought him rather nice-looking, though very tired. He had dark hair down to the nape of his neck, a high forehead, brown eyes, and a straight well-shaped nose.
His hair was in a tangle over his brow and, smiling faintly, he pushed it out of his eyes when he saw Karen watching him. As he did so, she noticed a brand on his arm, in the rough shape of an eagle. It was quite recent, being still red and peeling. Karen immediately felt very sorry for the slave; she thought how awful it would be to be branded.
'Did it hurt?' she asked.
'What? Oh, the brand; Yes. It was only done a month ago, to show I was army property.' He sighed. 'Now I suppose my new owner- whoever it'll be- will cross it out and do another. I'm not looking forward to that!'
'Oh dear, I'm sorry for you, though it won't help. Perhaps whoever buys you will only cross it out and not do another. I hope they won't brand me!'
'They don't do it to women nearly as much, so you needn't worry. You're a funny girl; one wouldn't take you for a slave. What's your name? I'm Kleon.'
'Mine's Karen. Are you a Greek?'
'I was, originally. I've travelled a good way; with the army, you know.'
But recently they found that one or two of us had slipped off, so they branded the rest to make it more difficult if we did get any notions of freedom--' He broke off suddenly. 'Quiet, I think they're starting.'
The auctioneer stood on top of a platform, and as he called out the particulars of each group they were made to stand in a cleared space in front of the buyers, and the bidding started.