CHAPTER IX.
MASTER AND SLAVE.
"By Jupiter," began my master immediately after the departure of thephysician. "By Jupiter," he repeated in his satisfied and hilariousmanner, so revolting to me: "Your injuries are healing so fast that youcan see them heal, a proof of the purity of your blood; and with pureblood there are no such things as wounds, says the son of Aesculapius.But here you are back in your senses, my brave Bull. You are going toanswer my questions, aren't you? Yes? Then, listen to me."
Drawing from his pocket a stylus and a tablet, covered with wax, the"horse-dealer" continued:
"I do not ask your name. You have no longer any name but that which Ihave given you, until your new owner shall name you differently. As forme, I have named you Bull[16]--a proud name, isn't it? You are worthy tobear it. It becomes you. So much the better."
"Why have you named me Bull?"
"Why did I name that old fellow, your late neighbor, Pierce-Skin?Because his bones stick out through his skin. But you, apart from yourtwo wounds, what a strong constitution you have! What broad shoulders!What a chest! What a back! What powerful limbs!" While pouring out thesepraises, the "horse-dealer" rubbed his hands and gazed at me withsatisfaction and covetousness, already figuring in advance the price Iwould fetch. "And your height! It exceeds by a palm that of the nexttallest captive in my lot. So, seeing you so robust, I have named youBull. Under that name you are entered in my inventory, at your number;and under that name will you be cried at the auction!"
I knew that the Romans sold their slaves to the slave merchants. I knewthat slavery was horrible, and I approved of a mother's killing herchildren sooner than have them live a captive's life. I knew that aslave became a beast of burden. While the "horse-dealer" was speaking, Idrew my hand across my forehead to make sure that it was really I,Guilhern, the son of Joel the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, a son ofthat free and haughty race, whom they were treating like a beef for themart. The shame of a life of slavery seemed to me insupportable, and Itook heart at the resolve to flee at the first opportunity, or to killmyself and thus rejoin my relatives. That thought calmed me. I hadneither the hope nor the desire to learn whether my wife and childrenhad escaped death; but remembering that I had seen neither Henory,Sylvest nor Syomara come from the enclosure behind the war-chariot, Isaid to the "horse-dealer":
"Where did you purchase me?"
"In the place where we make all our purchases, my fine Bull. On thefield of battle, after the combat."
"So it was on the battlefield of Vannes you bought me?"
"The same."
"You doubtlessly picked me up at the place where I fell?"
"Yes, there was a great pile of you Gauls there, in which there wereonly you and three others worth taking, among them that great booby,your neighbor--you know, Pierce-Skin. The Cretan archers gave him to mefor good measure[17] after the sale. That is the way with you Gauls. Youfight so desperately that after a battle live captives are exceedinglyrare, and consequently priceless. I simply can't put out much money, soI must come down to the wounded ones. My partner, the son ofAesculapius, goes with me to the battlefield to examine the wounded menand guard the ones I choose. Thus, in spite of your two wounds and yourunconsciousness, the young doctor said to me, after examining you andsounding your hurts, 'Buy, my pal, buy. Nothing but the flesh is cut,and that is in good condition; that will lower the value of yourmerchandise but little, and will prevent any breach of contract.'[18]Then you see, I, a real 'horse-dealer' who knows the trade, I said tothe archers, poking you with my foot, 'As to that great corpse there,who has no more than his breath, I don't want him in my lot at all.'"
"When I used to buy cattle in the market," I said to the "horse-dealer,"mockingly, "when I used to buy cattle in the market, I was less skilfulthan you."
"Oh, that is because I am an old hand, and know my trade. So the Cretansanswered me, seeing that I didn't think much of you, 'But this thrust ofthe lance and this saber-cut are mere scratches.' 'Scratches, mymasters!' said I in my turn, 'but it's no use poking or turning him,'and I kicked you and turned you over, 'See, he gives no sign of life. Heis dying, my noble sons of Mars. He is already cold.' In short, my fineBull, I had you for two sous of gold."
"I see I cost but little; but to whom will you sell me?"
"To the traffickers from Italy and the southern part of Gaul. They buytheir slaves second-hand. Several of them have already arrived here, andhave commenced making their purchases."
"And they will take me far away?"
"Yes, unless you are bought by one of those old Roman officers, who, toomuch disabled to follow a life of war, wish to found military colonieshere, in accordance with the orders of Caesar."
"And thus rob us of our lands!"
"Of course. I hope to get out of you twenty-five or thirty gold sous, atleast, and more if you are of an occupation easy to dispose of, such asa blacksmith, carpenter, mason, goldsmith, or some other good trade.It is in order to find that out that I am questioning you, so as towrite it in my bill of sale. So, let us see:" (and the "horse-dealer"took up his tablet and began writing with his stylus) "Your name? Bull.Race, Breton Gaul. I can see that at a glance. I am a connoisseur. Iwould not take a Breton for a Bourgignon, nor a Poitevin for anAuvergnat. I sold lots of Auvergnats last year, after the battle of Puy.Your age?"
"Twenty-nine."
"Age, twenty-nine," he wrote on his tablet. "Your occupation?"
"Laborer."
"Laborer," repeated the "horse-dealer" in a surprised and injured tone,scratching his ear with his stylus. "You are nothing but a laborer? Youhave no other profession?"
"I am a soldier also."
"Oh, a soldier. He who wears the iron collar has no more to do withlance or sword. So then," added the "horse-dealer," reading from histablet with a sigh:
"No. 7. Bull; race, Breton Gaul; of great strength and very greatheight; aged twenty-nine years; excellent laborer." Then he said:
"Your character?"
"My character?"
"Yes, what is it? rebellious or docile? open or sly? violent orpeaceable? gay or moody? The buyers always inquire as to the characterof the slave they are buying, and although one may not be compelled toanswer them, it is a bad business to deceive them. Let us see, friendBull, what is your character? In your own interest, be truthful. Themaster who buys you will sooner or later know the truth, and will makeyou pay more dearly for your lie than I would."
"Then write upon your tablet: 'The draft-bull loves servitude, cherishesslavery, and licks the hand that strikes him.'"
"You are joking. The Gallic race love service? As well say that theeagle or the falcon loves his cage."
"Then write that when his strength has come back, the Bull at the firstchance will break his yoke, gore his master, and fly to the woods tolive in freedom."
"There is more truth in that. Those brutes of keepers who beat you toldme that at the first touch of the lash you gave a terrible jump thelength of your chain. But, you see, friend Bull, if I offer you to thepurchasers with the dangerous account which you give, I shall find fewcustomers. An honest merchant should not boast his merchandise too much,no more should he underestimate it. So I shall announce your characteras follows." And he wrote:
"Of a violent character, sulky, because of his not being accustomed toslavery, for he is still green; but he can be broken in by using atdifferent times gentleness, severity and chastisement."
"Go over it again."
"Over what?"
"The description I am to be sold under."
"You are right, my son. We must make sure that the description soundswell to the ear. Imagine that I am the auctioneer, thus:
"No. 7. Bull; race, Breton Gaul; of great strength and very greatheight; aged twenty-nine years; excellent laborer; of a violentcharacter, sulky, because of his not being accustomed to slavery, for heis still green; but he can be broken in by application of gentleness,severity, and chastisement."
"That is what is left of a
free and proud man whose only crime is havingdefended his country against Caesar!" I cried bitterly. "And yet I didnot kill that same Caesar, who has reduced our people to slavery and isnow about to divide among his soldiers the lands of our fathers, I didnot kill him when I was making off with him on my horse!"
"You, my fine Bull, you took great Caesar prisoner?" asked the"horse-dealer" mockingly. "It's too bad I can't proclaim that at theauction. It would make a rare slave of you."
I reproached myself for having uttered before that trafficker in humanflesh words which resembled a regret or a complaint. Coming back to myfirst thought, which made me endure patiently the loquacity of the man,I said to him:
"When you picked me up where I fell on the battlefield, did you see hardby a war chariot harnessed to four black bulls, with a woman and twochildren hanging from the pole?"
"Did I see them? Did I see them!" exclaimed the "horse-dealer" with amournful sigh. "Ah, what excellent goods lost! We counted in thatchariot eleven young women and girls, all beautiful--oh,beautiful!--worth at least forty or fifty gold sous apiece--but dead.They had all killed themselves. They were no good to anyone."
"And in the chariot were there no women nor children still alive?"
"Women? No,--alas, no. Not one, to the great loss of the Roman soldiersand myself. But of children, there were, I believe, two or three who hadsurvived the death which those fierce Gallic women, furious aslionesses, wished to inflict upon them."
"And where are they?" I exclaimed, thinking of my son and daughter, whowere, perhaps, among them, "where are those children? Answer! Answer!"
"I told you, my Bull, that I buy only wounded persons; one of my fellowsbought the lot of children, and also some other little ones, for theypicked up some alive from the other chariots. But what does it matter toyou whether or not there are children to sell?"
"Because I had a son and a daughter in that chariot," I answered, myheart bursting.
"And how old were they?"
"The girl was eight, the boy nine."
"And your wife?"
"If none of those eleven women found in the chariot were living, my wifeis dead."
"Isn't that too bad--too bad! Your wife had already borne you twochildren; you four would have made a fine deal. Ah, what a losttreasure!"
I repressed a gesture of impotent anger at the scoundrel, and answered:
"Yes, they would have billed us as the Bull and the Heifer!"
"Surely! And since Caesar is going to distribute much of yourdepopulated country among his veterans, those who have no reserveprisoners will be under the necessity of buying slaves to cultivate andre-people their parcels of land. You are of that strong rustic race, andconsequently I have hopes of getting a good price for you from some newcolonist."
"Listen to me. I would rather know that my son and daughter were dead,like their mother, than have them saved to be slaves. Nevertheless,since there were found near the chariot some children who hadsurvived--a thing that astonishes me, since the women of Gaul alwaysstrike with a firm and sure hand when it is a case of snatching theirrace from shame--it is possible that my children may be among thosefound. How can I find out?"
"What good will finding out do you?"
"I will at least have with me my two children."
The "horse-dealer" began to laugh, shrugged his shoulders, and answered:
"Then you didn't hear me? By Jupiter, I advise you not to be deaf--youwould be returned to me. I told you that I neither bought nor soldchildren."
"What does that matter to me?"
"Among a hundred purchasers of slaves for farm-hands, there would not beten so foolish as to buy a man and his two children, without theirmother. So that to offer you for sale with two brats, if they are stillliving, would make me lose half your value by burdening your purchaserwith two useless mouths. Do you catch on; thick-head? No, for you lookat me with a ferocious and stupefied air. I repeat that if I had beenobliged to buy the two children in one lot with you, or even if they hadbeen given to me to boot, in the market, like old Pierce-Skin, my firstcare would have been to have put you up for sale without them. Do youunderstand at last, double and triple block that you are?"
At last I did understand; heretofore I had not dreamed of suchrefinement of torture in slavery. To think that my two children, ifalive, might be sold, I know not where, or to whom, and taken far fromme! I had not thought it possible. My heart swelled with grief. So greatwas my suffering that I almost supplicated the "horse-dealer." I said tohim:
"You are deceiving me. What can my children do? Who would wish to buysuch poor little things, so young? useless mouths--as you saidyourself?"
"Oh, those who carry on the trade in children have a separate andassured patronage, especially if the children are favored with prettyfeatures. Are your young ones good-looking?"
"Yes," I answered in spite of myself. Before me was the vision of thecharming fair faces of my little Sylvest and Syomara, who looked as muchalike as twins and whom I had embraced a moment before the battle ofVannes. "Oh yes, they were good-looking. They were like their mother,who was so beautiful--!"
"If they had good looks, be easy, my fine Bull. They will be easy todispose of. The dealers in children have for their especial patrons thedecrepit and surfeited Roman Senators, who love fresh fruits. By theway, they have announced the near arrival of the patrician Trymalcion,a very rich and very noble man, an old and very capricious expert. He istraveling through the Roman colonies of southern Gaul, and is expectedhere, they say, on his galley which is as splendid as a palace. No doubthe would like to take back to Italy some graceful specimens of Gallicbrats. If your children are pretty, their fate is assured, for thepatrician Trymalcion is one of my partner's patrician customers."[19]
At first I listened to the "horse-dealer," without catching his meaning.But I was presently seized with a vertigo of horror at the idea that mychildren, who might unfortunately have escaped the death which theirfar-sighted mother had intended for them, might be carried to Italy tofulfill such a monstrous destiny. I felt neither anger nor fury, but agrief so great, and a fear so terrible, that I kneeled on the straw, andin spite of my manacles, stretched my pleading hands toward the"horse-dealer." Not finding words to utter my feelings, I wept,kneeling.
The "horse-dealer" looked at me in great surprise, and said:
"Well, well! What is it, my fine Bull? What ails you?"
"My children!" was all I could say, for sobs choked me. "My children! ifthey are living!"
"Your children?"
"What you said--the fate that awaits them--if they are sold to thosemen--"
"How? Their fate causes you alarm?"
"Hesus! Hesus!" I exclaimed, calling on the god in my lamentation. "Itis horrible!"
"Are you going crazy?" demanded the "horse-dealer." "And what is thereso horrible in the fate which awaits your children? Ah, what barbariansyou are in Gaul, indeed. But, know: there is no life easier nor moreflowery than that of these little flute-players and dancers with whichthese rich old fellows amuse themselves. If you could see them, thelittle rogues, their foreheads crowned with roses, their flowery robesspangled with gold, their rich earrings adorning their heads. And thelittle girls, if you could see them with their tunics and--"
I could contain myself no longer. A bloody mist passed before my eyes.Furiously and desperately I leapt on the vile fellow. But my chain againtightening sharply, I stumbled and fell back on the straw. I lookedaround me--not a stick nor a stone. Then, crazed with rage, I doubledupon my chain, and gnawed at it like a wild animal.
"What a brute of a Gaul!" exclaimed the "horse-dealer," shrugging hisshoulders, and keeping well out of reach. "There he is, roaring andjumping and grinding at his chain like a staked wolf, and all because hehas been told that his children, if they are pretty, are to live in themidst of wealth, ease and pleasure! What would it have been, then, foolthat you are, if they were ugly or deformed? Do you know to whom theywould have been sold? They would have been sold to t
hose rich lords, whoare so curious to read the future in the palpitating entrails ofchildren freshly slaughtered for divination."[20]
"Oh, Hesus!" I cried, filled with hope at the thought, "let it be sowith mine, despite their beauty! Oh, death for them! Only let them enterthe other world in their innocence, and live near their chaste mother."I could no longer hold back my tears.
"Friend Bull," began the "horse-dealer" in a dissatisfied tone, "I wasnot a bit mistaken in putting you down in my tablet as violent andhot-headed. But I fear lest you have a fault worse than these--I mean atendency towards tears. I have seen sullen slaves melt away like thesnows of winter under a spring sun, dry up like parchment, and causegreat loss to their owners by their pitiful appearance. So, look out foryourself. There remain but fifteen days before the auction at which youare to be sold. It is a short while to restore you to your naturalfleshiness, to give you a fresh and rested complexion, a sleek andsupple skin, in short, all those signs of vigor and health which allurethe experts, jealous of possessing a sound and robust slave. To obtainthis result, I wish to spare nothing, neither good food, nor care, norany of those little artifices known to us to make our merchandise showoff to advantage. On your part you must second my efforts. But if, onthe contrary, you do not get over your fits of anger, if you begin toweep, if you begin to make yourself miserable, to waste away, so tospeak, vainly dreaming of your children, instead of affording me honorand profit by your good figure, as a good slave should who is jealousof his master's interests,--beware, friend Bull, beware! I am not anovice in my business. I have carried it on for many years and in manylands. I have subdued more intractable fellows than you. I have madeSardinians docile, and Sarmatians as gentle as lambs, so you can judgeof my skill.[21] Therefore, believe me, do not expect yourself to causeme harm by pining away. I am very mild, very gentle. I am not at allfond of chastisements; often they leave marks which lower a slave'svalue. Nevertheless, if you oblige me to, you will make the acquaintanceof the jail for recalcitrants. Consider that, friend Bull. It will soonbe meal-time; the physician says that you can now be put upon asubstantial diet. You will be brought boiled chicken, oatmeal wet withgravy of roast sheep, good bread, and some good wine and water. I shallknow whether you have eaten with a good appetite and in a manner torecuperate your strength, instead of losing it in weeping. So then, eat;it is the only way of gaining my favor. Eat plenty, eat often--I'll seethat you have it. You will never eat too much to please me, for you arefar from being well-fed, and that's what you must be, well-fed, beforefifteen days, the time of the auction. I leave you to these reflections;pray the gods that they improve you. If not--oh, if not, I weep for you,friend Bull."
So saying the "horse-dealer" shut the heavy door of the room behind him,leaving me chained within.