one arrived- of bustle, hot sun, and dust. Here now, two thousand years in the past, it was present again; and the range of smells was the same- grease, salt water, fish, and various odours, probably from the houses. It was vastly different from an English harbour-smell.
It was mid-afternoon, and the soldiers were not due to start out again until the following day; so they were to stay in barracks. In actual fact most of them scattered, vanished in the maze of streets, intent on 'having some fun' while the opportunity presented itself.
Karen and three other slave-girls were sick of marching down endless empty roads; so, finding themselves unsupervised, they slipped off as well to see the town. There seemed no harm in it, although Neanthe, the eldest, prophesied a beating.
'Nonsense,' said Vitria, a vivacious little blonde. 'Nobody told us to go anywhere in particular, so what can they say?'
Karen noticed that their self-confidence had improved during the journey; at the beginning they would never have dared to speak like that. It was because they were following her own example, but she knew that they would hide behind her at the first sign of trouble, so it was up to her to take the blame.
The town was full of people, jostling and swearing at each other, and the girls were pushed from pillar to post. Finally they came out in the market-place, crammed with stalls, and wandered to and fro, trying to see everything.
There were fruit-stalls, piled high with oranges and lemons, with great bowls of black and green olives at the front: there were meat-stalls, with gory hunks hanging from the framework and attracting flies: fish stalls- Karen loved looking at the interesting and colourful species, but she could never feel sorry for the fish; they looked so stupid- :clothes-stalls: and many more.
'Hungry, dear?' bellowed the great, jolly woman who presided, goddess-like, over the fruit, and she threw Karen an apple.
The girls took a bite each in turn until it was finished, and Karen presented the core to a donkey drooping under panniers of washing.
The four truants were so engrossed in walking round the market that they failed to notice the lengthening shadows, or the area gradually emptying, until the fruit-woman said to Karen 'Hadn't you better be going, dearie? Your parents'll be wondrin' where you are.'
They will indeed, Karen thought sadly for a moment, then she said 'Neanthe! It's late- we'd better go. They'll be looking for us if we're not careful!'
Neanthe clapped a hand to her mouth and her eyes widened. 'I said we'd get a beating,' she said. 'Come on!'
They ran back as fast as possible, scattering hens, dogs and children in all directions, but they soon lost themselves in the tangle of narrow, winding streets. However, there was a group of soldiers not far away who seemed to be going back to barracks, and Vitria suggested following them.
'Let's hope they don't see us,' Karen said, but unfortunately one of them turned round at the wrong moment and did.
'Hey, you!' he bellowed. 'What d'you think you're doing, creeping behind like that? Don't think I didn't know you were following us all along.'
Feeling sheepish, the four girls ran to catch up. The man looked at them sternly.
'You'll get into trouble, you will,' he said, and Karen hated him for stating the obvious. 'Your owners have been searching for you all over. Off to see the sights, were you?'
Karen nodded dumbly. She'd be sure to get a beating now. Marius did beat her, and it was both humiliating and painful, but at least he didn't try to undress her for it or break the skin. Still, it was shaming for Karen, who inwardly considered herself free, and she was very depressed next morning.
The excitement of setting out for Rome again soon diverted her, however. The men lined up on the quay in their hundreds, some grumbling at having to stand for hours in the hot sun waiting to get on the ships, others telling them to stop moaning and remember how glad they had been to get out of rain-washed old Britain. Far better now to stop grumbling and enjoy a bit of sun when they got it.
They were taking ship for Ostia, Rome's seaport at the mouth of the Tiber. The weather on the trip was very hot, and the air in the cooks' galley oppressive, so Karen used to slip out on deck whenever she could, and watch the coastline moving past, for the convoy kept in sight of land all the time.
She found on arrival that Ostia was a busy port, full of foreign merchants selling all sorts of outlandish things from all corners of the empire, and arranging transport for their cargo up the river to Rome. The soldiers, however, had no transport; they just kept on marching through country that was wooded in parts and hilly, and occasionally relieved with gay market gardens visible from the road. By the time they arrived in Rome it was the middle of July and really hot. When they were finally inside the great city Marius fixed himself up with a room at an inn. It was an old, crumbling place called 'The Three Birds', with a thin, hawk-like innkeeper, who suspiciously demanded to see Marius's money, then grudgingly showed them up to a dingy back room, and said a meal would be served in half an hour.
Marius dumped his pack on the one bed and sat down with a sigh. 'Well!' he said. 'Here we are, back in good old Rome at last. Ever seen it before? No? What d'you think of it?'
'It's hot and noisy,' said Karen. 'And dusty, so I didn't see much. But the buildings are so ...white and high. Until you get into the back streets, of course. I think sometime all these houses will just collapse.' She looked around the dismal room. 'Couldn't you afford any place better than this? I know you've got some money on you. And this is hardly luxury, is it? Except for the fleas maybe.'
Marius laughed. 'Cleaned meself out buying you,' he said, and laughed again. 'Anyway, what do you expect? Anybody'd think you were the Empress Poppaea herself, the way you talk! You needn't worry, though; you've only got one night to sit out here. I'm taking you to the market
tomorrow; we'll see if I can sell you for more than I paid in the first place. Then I'm off down south to visit my parents.'
'Oh. Where do they live?' 'Along the Appian Way for twenty miles, turn left along another smaller road, and ten miles up there you come to the estate of Marcus Banco. Dad's a freeholder on his land.'
'Freeholding's not supposed to be a very profitable business, is it?'
'Well, that's what I keep telling Dad, and Mum tells him too. "Go to Rome," she says; "you'll make a better living there, like." But he won't. Dad's a real country-lover. Me, I think he's mad. Give me the city any day! You don't seem to be a bad kid. I might almost keep you for myself; still, you'll fetch a good price, I don't doubt.' He looked her up and down appreciatively. 'Not bad,' he said. 'Still, you can sleep on a blanket in the corner, if you'd rather.'
Karen nearly drew herself up to a formidable height and said she would most certainly prefer to sleep in the corner, but then she thought that if she spoke like that, with chilly emphasis on the 'certainly' he would take it as a personal affront when she really had nothing against him. So she just blushed slightly and said that she would sleep alone.
'Pity.' he said. 'Still, this flea-bitten bed ain't even big enough for one, let alone two.' A bell tinkled downstairs, which apparently meant that the meal was ready, so they went down.
The main room of the inn was already crowded, but they managed to find a table against the wall where there was room for two on the narrow bench. Marius ordered cold ham, bread, arid wine. Sitting at a table nearby was a group of very rowdy revellers, roaring bawdy jokes at each other and repeatedly calling for more wine. As the room filled and the air thickened, they became progressively drunker and there looked like being a noisy brawl. Anxious to escape, Karen finished her meal quickly and said that she would go upstairs. Marius nodded.
As she threaded her way past the tables, one of the revellers, a great red-faced man seized her and pulled her on to his knee. She fought to get away, but he held her in a grip like iron and started to run his hand round her waist, laughing into her face as his comrades egged him on.
'Let-me--go!' she gasped, and reached out to scratch h
is face as a last resort. He grabbed her hand just in time and held it back.
'Now then, darlin’,' he roared, 'what d'ya want to leave a nice feller like me for, eh?' By now everyone in the tavern was looking, attracted by the noise, and the landlord hovered anxiously in the background.
It was Marius who took action. He rose quietly to his feet and said 'Leave her alone,' in a steady voice.
The big man stared at him for a moment; nobody else in the room made a sound, but some began to edge towards the door, not wanting to be involved in a fight. Then the man grinned and started to pull Karen even closer to him.
Marius said nothing; just stepped forward and knocked the troublemaker right off his stool and on to the floor with a single crashing blow on the jaw. As he fell, his grip slackened on Karen and she slipped out of the way, then someone caught her by the elbows and pulled her backwards to safety. Marius was now busy defending himself against three of the revellers, with a bystander helping him, though the drunkards were at a disadvantage because they couldn't see straight, and kept lashing out at Marius or each other and missing ludicrously. In addition, the landlord soon appeared from the kitchen with a couple of hefty slaves, and the five revellers were thrown out amid derisive jeers from the rest. The tables were put back, and the broken crockery cleared