Arthur Britannicus Read Online Free PDF

to wear a cap for the auction. Filwen noted two captives marked with the shameful pierced ears of the Eastern slave, a sign that they humbly listened to their master. His slaves, he felt, compared well to the other humans on offer.  The most prized, after beautiful females or handsome young males, were slaves who could act as jesters, jugglers or other entertainers, with dwarfs and hunchbacks having value as freaks for the amusement of a household.
    The Bastard sized up the offerings, watching amused as Clinia, the buxom wife of the dead chieftain Aulus, was stripped of the few scraps of clothing she’d retained before she was pulled out of the cage and onto the auction block. He chuckled at the raucous comments of the men gathered to buy the captives but grunted at the small price brought by his onetime bed mate. He ungraciously took the money the buyer, a shipwright, offered. “You got a bargain there,” he said. The man grinned at him. “She’ll keep my cabin clean and my bunk warm. I’m off to the northlands in a week or so and a well-padded woman will be useful.”
    Filwen grunted again. He didn’t see the anguished look Clinia cast backwards towards the corrals, searching for her sons, as she was led away by the shipwright’s bodyguard. He was looking at his other women captives, wondering if perhaps there were too many slaves on offer at one time, as the market seemed not as profitable as before.
    He sent Mullinus and a couple of other prime captives back to the ships without even showing them to the small crowd of buyers. “I’ll get more for them another time,” he thought. He surveyed the chatting crowd, spotted a couple of affluent-looking prospects, and on a whim, opted to put the twins up. At his nod, Domnal and Mael were pushed forward. “Might as well test the upscale market,” the raider thought, whispering to the auctioneer that he had a high reserve price on these two.  The man nodded, and appraised the youths. Carausius’ 16 years old brothers were identical twins, dark haired and handsome. Both boys were tall and promised to become prime specimens, but their real attraction for the buyers was their similarity, a novelty and a valuable asset for wealthy men who’d enjoy having matching bodyguards or personal slaves.
    The Bastard knew that a rich man with scores of slaves flaunted his wealth by having them perform useless or highly-personal tasks like taking care of the master’s sandals while he ate, or wiping him clean when he rose from the toilet. One slave might walk ahead on the street to point out obstacles, another’s sole task was to prompt his owner with the names of those greeting him. Matched slaves were especially valued, so the competition for these handsome twin slaves was gratifyingly intense and Filwen soon nodded his approval to the auctioneer at the price.
    The winning bidder was a swarthy local who did lucrative trade in Baltic amber. To the Gael’s satisfaction, the Belg paid with five golden Roman aureii, a gleaming pile of coins that he spilled from the large purse he wore alongside the knife in his belt.  “Good currency, that, and not debased,” thought Filwen, “and those boys got about five times what a typical male slave fetches. It was a good day when we saw that village.”
    The twins hardly looked at each other as they were led away by their new master, although Mael could not resist glancing down at Domnal’s left sandal, where the scrap of lead given to him by their mother was sewn into the sole. They had puzzled over the marks and letters on the metal, but neither could read Latin and the scratched map meant nothing to them. One day it might, but first they had to keep it safe. All they knew was what their mother had whispered quickly before she was taken in the slave coffle with the other women.  “Guard the map,” she’d said. “It tells where someone buried gold.” One day, the twins promised themselves, they’d find the treasure and buy all