The Thracian and Gaul

Four

Godric reluctantly led me out to where he had heard the heavy footsteps of our master. Godric seemed to be a valuable slave, and loyal at that. But from the branding on his back, and what he warned me about in the bathing room, that loyalty was practically forced. What else had this man done to this boy?

"Godric," I whipped around and was faced with the pale, beautiful man once again. His voice had carried from where he stood in his satin robes and sandals. Only this time, red was smeared across his robes, hands and mouth. Blood.

Godric seemed calmer than my earlier reaction and bowed his head.

"Dominus," he greeted, either not noticing the blood or choosing not to. But, how could he not?

My breathing became heavy as this man stepped forward, examining me thoroughly, as if I was about to be sold again. I flinched away as he brought a single hand up and pushed my face to the side, so as to see my profile. I could only smell something metallic, and feel the sticky, wet substance now decorating my chin and cheek.

"She's a beauty, is she not?" The man spoke, and Godric barely glanced up at my trembling figure.

"My name is—," I started, but the grip became tighter around my throat as this man started to choke me, bringing my face closer to his bloody mouth.

"Your name is what I decide, slave," he spat the last word as if it were venom and shoved me to the floor with the strength of ten men. I cradled my jaw and my eyes widened at the blood-soaked man. He smirked.

"She has courage, doesn't she Godric?" Godric, who had remained still this entire time, looked at me with sad eyes. The dominus stepped lightly over to his oldest slave and wrapped a hand at the nape of Godric's neck gently, like a serpent. Godric froze, but did not react in the way when I had touched his brand. He seemed almost numb as the man touched him. He refused to blink or to even glance at the master. Whether it was out of fear or respect, I couldn't tell. Godric was akin to a statue.

The man brought Godric closer to his side, now caressing his shoulders and forearm, and understanding rushed through me like a river. I wasn't the only one to have touched Godric.

"Perhaps Victoria, then? Considering the damage she did to that man's hand, it's clear to see she's been raised to conquer." The man glanced over at me, "Perhaps it felt like a victory?"

Victoria. It sounded so wrong. I could barely comprehend what the man was going on about and focused my eyes on Godric. Godric, who was silent, looked away from both me solemnly, his face without emotion and feeling. He was completely void.

"Now then," the man was just as quick to release his hold on Godric and approached me, offering me a bloody hand. I looked on in disgust and fear.

"You have the wondrous chance of serving your master, Dominus Appius Livus Ocella. You will address me as such, or master, as I will address you as Victoria, or slave. Otherwise, I deem if your punishment fits the crime you make should you choose to deter me from my happiness."

He glanced at his outstretched hand and cocked an eyebrow. I would not give him the satisfaction, and I stood on my own two feet without his or Godric's aid. Appius laughed aloud, his teeth large and white.

He jiggled a finger towards me, pointing and gesturing, "You will be broken, Victoria. Not to worry--you will be happier for it." He smiled and turned on his heel.

"Godric," he called.

Godric stepped forward, his eyes downcast and his expression solemn, ready to deem what Appius commanded.

"Show Victoria to your quarters. She will stay with you for the day. I am tired, and will be prepared for rest soon." Godric nodded and seized me by the forearm, dragging me away from the bloodied man I was to call master.

As soon as we turned the corner, I jerked out of his grasp, but he whipped around and clasped both of my arms now. His grip was tight and I gasped in pain. Godric's eyes were almost wild as he shook me ever so slightly.

"Stop!" He hissed, so quietly I almost couldn't hear the rage in his voice. I faltered for a moment, staring into those now grey eyes of fear and horror. He wasn't fazed by the blood, or the touching. Then, I remembered that Godric has been with Appius far longer than I.

"What has he done to you?" I whispered, my thoughts in my head finding exit past my lips. It was Godric's turn to be dazed. He stared at me for a moment, transfixed on my eyes. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, trying to find an answer. Finally, he gave up and tugged me forward again, except this time, I let him.

He led me down a long hallway and down a set of stairs. The cellar was down there, and with it, a small, neat bed roll. Godric's bed roll. Slaves do not get to have lavish things like silken sheets or pillows made of feathers. Even in my home, I had more than this.

I looked around and saw the large shelves that were meant to house wine were empty. It seemed odd for a Roman slave master not to own at least a barrel or two of wine, and Godric seemed to read my thoughts.

"It's not his drink of choice," he explained, crouched next to his bedroll. He attempted to fix what little he could and I crouched next to him, stopping his working hands.

"It's fine," I assured, "and what exactly is his drink of choice?"

Memories of Appius' blood-stained mouth coursed through my mind, and I shuddered at the thought. Suddenly, as if Godric had been asked to kill him, he closed his mouth and that void look came back into his eyes.

"Godric?" I asked, but he ignored me and started back up the steps, leaving a single torch for me.

"I will wake you in the morning," he bid me, closing and locking the cellar door, leaving me in the dark. Wasn't he going to sleep down here as well? Why is it that every time I ask about Appius, he shuts his mouth?

Perhaps he truly was loyal to Appius. Or was it more than loyalty, but rather, Godric's fear? Fear of his master?