'ROME!'

The cry echoed from the top deck and resounded into the depths of the ship. I still knew little of the Latin tongue, but that word I understood clearly. We captives awoke from sleep at the sound; the sun was rising in the east, and as I rubbed the last remnants of sleep from my eyes, I began to wonder what would now become of me.

Rome.

The very word filled me with a strange mixture of terror and curiosity. I was afraid of Rome—what might happen to me in that place. The fate of Boudicca's daughters crossed my mind, and my heart pounded. Even should I be spared similar mistreatment, I feared I would be given to a harsh master. Fate had not been kind to me thus far; why should I think it would go well with me now?

Yet oft I had heard tales from passing traders of the great Eternal City. A place, they said, of culture and literature, the arts and sciences; words that were almost meaningless to me, but I longed to know what they meant. Little had I known then that I would have not long to wait.

Sometime later—for every passing moment seemed to last an eternity—the ship docked at the harbor of Rome. We heard a great scrambling and shouting of orders, but knew nothing of what it meant. Then men came down and untied the ropes that bound our ankles and wrists, leading us up on the deck.

The sea air combined with city stench nigh overwhelmed me, and I felt lost, overcome by the roar of the populace. The city seemed to last forever, buildings upon buildings stretching for leagues, rising up on hills and extending into the far distances. Around us were ships of all sorts and sizes. Behind us, beyond the choked harbor, was the rolling blue ocean, its waves sparkling beneath the morning sun. I had never seen anything this large and grand; Venta Icenorum, though seen from a distance, had seemed to me immense, but it was nowhere near as colossal as this great capital of the Redcrests' empire.

My wonder did not last long. I was brought back to the present by being roughly hustled off the ship and onto the docks with my fellow slaves. Chains were locked around our wrists and ankles in place of the ropes that had once bound us. Our shackles were connected into one line as we were marched off like animals for the butcher, the slave dealer leading the way and his men goading us along. The ground was strangely firm after the pitching surface of the ship, and my first steps were mostly stumbling on smooth pavement.

Despite my fears of the near future, I gazed in amazement at my new surroundings. I had always imagined what a city built by the Redcrests must be like, but all my speculations fell utterly short of the reality.

The farther we traveled from the low hovels by the docks, the greater the buildings became. The roads were smooth, straight, and broad, with raised stones across the streets connecting walkways on either side, allowing both passersby and chariots to travel without difficulty. High buildings reared up into the sky on either side of the street, surrounded by shops on the ground level and living quarters further up. I had never before seen a structure with more than one floor, and I marveled at the strange phenomenon. What sort of people were so great as to create such things? 'Twas no wonder they called my people crude barbarians.

As we drew closer to the grand Forum in the middle of the city, the architecture became more refined. Beautiful temples and government buildings adorned the streets; and high up on the hills, rising from the humid and populous valleys, lay dazzling mansions that shone in the sunlight. What sort of place—be it humble shanty or golden palace—would I soon call my new home?

People of every sort brushed past us with never a second glance; people with pale skin like my own, people with the olive skin and ink-black hair of the Romans, and others with darker complexions that I could never have imagined.

When we came to the Forum, I gasped in surprise. All I had seen and wondered at paled in comparison. Temples and governmental buildings stood at the fringes of the vast open space, statues and monumental arches placed through the center, along with booths and stalls selling anything one could possibly want and more. However, when I laid eyes on one of the many stalls exhibiting slaves, my heart stopped and I was overcome by a burning wave of shame as my mind refused to acknowledge what would soon happen to me.

We were hustled into an enclosed area much like an animal pen while the slave dealer left his men to watch us and hustled over to a Roman official. They spoke together for some time, but I could not hear what they said. Instead, a voice screamed out in my mind against the atrocities of Rome. It was said to be a place of great culture; the buildings we had passed were evidence of this. But how could they call my people barbarians? We treated our bondmen with more dignity than this! White-hot rage seethed within me and I gritted my teeth. Could my gaze have melted marble, the entire empire would have vanished under a single glance.

The slave trader returned and gave orders to his men as they scurried around, preparing his stall for opening. He looked us over, clicking his tongue as his eyes raked our disheveled forms. Most of us stared at the ground or looked blankly at the distant horizon, but I gazed at him hotly, wishing to break free from my chains and escape what was to come. After a few minutes, he selected a few slaves and unlinked them from the rest of us, stripping them of their clothes and their dignity, leading them to the front of his market stall. Inwardly, I whispered prayers to the gods of my people that I would somehow be spared, but I had little hope. Gone were my thoughts of wonder and amazement at the glorious architecture of Rome; in their place were dread and loathing.

'Twas early in the morning, but already the marketplace was crowded with people of all classes. The noises of animals and thronging people filled the air, and above that cacophonous din rose the cries of merchants screaming out their wares to the people, begging them to come to their stalls and purchase their valuables. It was one thing to hear of such happenings, but quite another to see it and stand in the midst of the drama.

Our master seemed to be a well-kept and self-respecting slave merchant—if such a thing existed in this broken world—for only the wealthy patricians sought his wares to glorify their households, and he had long since disposed of those of us who were sick or had physical defects. One by one, the slaves standing before the crowd were bought and replaced by others. My heart hammered in my throat, fearing I would be next.

The sun rose higher into the sky, and soon sweat rolled freely down my brow. I dreaded every passing moment, every potential buyer who stopped and haggled with our trader, every slave who was sold and led off, for the time drew closer and closer when I too would be publicly shamed.

When the moment came and I was deprived of my clothes and whatever self-worth I had left, I felt no emotion. I had imagined being filled with rage enough to break my bonds and slay my captors. Yet I felt only a cold burning and held my gaze to the sky, staring at the clouds instead of the people who passed by. I could not—I dared not—think of anything but how blue the spring sky was. I could not have borne the shame otherwise.

I heard, as if at a great distance, voices heatedly discussing prices, some turning away, others arguing on. At last, I was purchased by a Roman matron nearly hidden from view by the silken curtains of an ornate litter, carried by four slaves and shadowed by her steward. She motioned for them to give me a cloak to hide my shame in—for which I was grateful—and I followed them with bowed head through the crowded streets, the heated pavement burning my bare feet.

The slaves bearing the litter labored in the hot sun, slowly toiling up one of the seven hills in the city. As we ascended, the buildings became increasingly spread out, the white marble villas glistening in the sunlight, surrounded by gardens, some public, many private. I could see little in detail of these homes for the upper classes of Roman society, but I had not long to wait before I was swept up against my will and made a part of the household.

I padded after the bent and sweating backs of the slaves before me as we made our way past the gates that bordered the grounds of the Aurelian villa and across the broad marble path that led to the mansion's doors. There they bent down and lowered the litter to the ground, allowing the lady of the house to step out, her golden jewelry sparkling in the sunlight. She beckoned for them to carry the litter away and then she looked at me. No words left her mouth; she only crooked her finger, gesturing for me to follow her and the steward into the grand mansion that loomed above us.

The cool dimness of the atrium was disorienting after the blinding brightness of the sun, and I squeezed my eyes shut until I could see in the darkness. Light spilled down from an opening in the roof, splashing golden rays on the still waters of a small pool directly below. Around the atrium were several closed doors, and at the far end lay a small shrine encasing various Roman gods and goddesses. Beautiful mosaics formed an odd texture beneath my bare feet as I clutched the cloak tightly around me and followed my mistress beyond the atrium, through a small passageway, and back out into the sunlight of the peristylium.

The peristylium was an elaborately landscaped garden surrounded by a marble colonnade supporting an inwardly sloping roof of terracotta tile. Fountains bubbled merrily, and within the walls of the house, the sound of the city was shut out. The peristylium, like the atrium, was surrounded by doors, and windows looking down into the garden courtyard from a second story.

As I looked around, some of that dread that had filled my heart an hour before dissipated. Perhaps it would not be so bad after all. I was no longer free, but at least my new home was very fine compared to what I was used to. I could only hope that my mistress would not be as cruel and barbaric as many other Romans seemed to be.

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of several female figures who came at the lady's call. The heat of the city had vanished behind the marble walls of the villa, and I shivered beneath the cover of the thin cloak as my fears of the unknown resurfaced.

The lady of the house spoke many words in a crisp voice, a voice that reminded me of my own mother when she was displeased. But I understood none of them until she gestured to her steward, who translated into broken Celtic, 'Thou wilt follow these women and do as they bid thee.'

I nodded and followed them out of the peristylium into a room beyond. It was bare save for the rolled sleeping mats stacked against the wall and some ropes hanging from the ceiling. I watched in curiosity as the slave women busied themselves, some gathering bottles of coloured liquids, others filling a large bronze basin with steaming hot water.

Then I realized they meant to wash me. Though I longed to be clean of the filth from the voyage, I recoiled at the thought of abandoning the privacy of the cloak. One might think me mad, for had I not been so disgraced before the whole of Roman people thronging the marketplace? But I supposed I did not want to have to endure more of such shame than necessary.

I was not given much of a choice.

The women tore the cloak from me and all but deposited me in the bronzen tub. I hated being exposed in such a way to them, but I had no choice but to submit myself to their rigorous scrubbing and untangling of my scarlet locks.

When at last I passed their inspection for cleanliness, one of them silently led me back to the atrium. I walked stiffly, slowly adjusting to the strange feel of a tunic around my body and sandals on my feet. I had always gone barefoot, and the leather bound around my feet felt like iron chains. My hair had been combed and pulled away from my face in a simple design; it felt odd not to have to thrust it back from my eyes all the time. Yet as different as the new clothing felt against my skin, at least I was clean again.

The slave woman motioned for me to stay, then walked away, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house.

As soon as she was gone, I stepped forward and looked at my broken reflection in the rippling waters of the atrium pool. I did not like what I saw, for it was a blank face, void of expression. Yet that was how it had to be, for unless my father and my brothers and Telyn searched all the ends of the world for me, I would not be returning home any time soon.

My memories were precious to me. I did not want them stolen as well, so I locked them away and feigned ignorance. It was the only way I could go on.

All I had left was hope.