"What kind of builder?"
Corio sensed that he might have a chance of exchanging masters, and from the way this barbarian had stopped his being beaten, it might be a change for the better. And the barbarian spoke Latin perfectly. "I can build many things, noble sir-fortifications and canals, though my best work has been in the shipyards of Ostia, where many of my ships have sailed safely on the seas thanks to my good works."
Casca thought it over for a moment. A shipbuilder is he? He turned his attention back to the merchant. "How much for the fellow? I may have need for such as he."
Decious hesitated. These two savages were poorly dressed, but appearances could be deceiving, and they had paid for what they had bought in good silver. "I would have three gold ounces for him, and he is a bargain at that price, for I have had to feed and care for him the last two months."
Casca reached into the bottom of his purse and withdrew his only two gold ounces and tossed them to the merchant, who deftly snatched them out of the air.
"I'll give you two and make you the offer that if you come to Helsfjord, you will be well received, for I am master there."
One of the guards whispered in Decius' ear when he heard the name of Helsfjord. "I think it would be wise to accept his offer. If this man's name is Casca, he is not to be toyed with. I have heard of how he came to power there and it was over the bodies of those who opposed him. It is also said he has a giant as a companion who is nearly as dangerous as he is. The builder is not worth any of our lives. Even if we won, the price would be great."
Decius pursed his lips. "And what is your name, noble sir?"
The blue-gray eyes turned cold. He knew they were weighing the odds. "I am Casca of Helsfjord and this is my sword companion, Glam, son of Halfdan the Ganger. Do we have a deal, merchant, or do we make a trade that would be hard on everyone?"
Decius swallowed a taste of bitter bile; he was a trader, not a warrior. The sight of blood, especially his own, gave him fits of nausea.
Casca loosened his sword in its scabbard a bit more.
Decius hastily responded, "Of course, of course. You may have the man for two gold ounces and welcome, Lord Casca. By all means, he is yours." Decius entered his tent and returned after a moment handing over to Casca the papers of ownership.
Casca told his new slave to get his things together. They would be leaving now. Corio scurried to do his new master's bidding. It didn't take long, as he only had the plain rough-woven tunic on his back, a threadbare cloak, and a few scrolls of numbers that he would need in following his craft.
Casca led the way out of the camp with Corio in the center and Glam bringing up drag, still keeping a wary eye on those in the camp. The merchant sighed a breath of relief that things hadn't turned out much worse. He had even made a small profit on the slave. He turned to his subordinates with the orders to break camp. He looked back longingly to the south where the civilized lands lay. It was always chancy when you dealt with savages, but that was the way of things. If you could survive a trip or two into the dark forests of Germania, a man could make enough profit to set up a proper trading house. From there he would be able to take his ease and send others out to do the hard and dangerous work of bartering with the savages. He was especially glad that he brought with him a couple of packs of mirrors, for each of those would bring almost as much as did the slave.
On their return to the hold of Helsfjord Casca had many hours in which to learn of how Corio had come to his unhappy condition. The little man was a habitual gambler, a disease that afflicted many Romans. The only ones Casca had ever met that were worse than the Romans were the Arabs. Corio had been legally sold to settle the debts owed his creditors. An official ruling from the magistrate at Ostia had been forwarded to the shipyards of Messilia where Corio had been on a subcontracting job laying the keels for a couple of fat merchantmen. Without any fuss he had been duly informed of his changed status and sold the next day to the trader Decius, who was even then on his way to the frontier.
Corio's pudgy face flushed from the strain of using so many muscles he never knew he had, climbing up one crest only to go down and find another awaiting him even more rugged than the previous one. But there was one bright spot when Casca told him he could have his freedom after three years, or sooner if he could save enough to pay him back the money spent on his purchase. All in all, Corio felt he had been lucky in having the Roman barbarian purchase him-not that he had had any choice in the matter. So there was no sense of being lost when he finally saw the gray stone walls of Helsfjord. Quickly he had learned that his new master and his friendly giant weren't going to hurt him. In fact, he felt less like a slave and more like one being invited to visit old friends, and he was anxious to meet the Lady Lida.
Chapter Eleven
Besides the great expanse across the Rhine known as Germania, there were also the lands bordering the Danube, that sister river of the Rhine, which ran thirteen hundred miles until it reached the Euxine Sea. Along its banks were found the savage lands of Thetia, Pannonia, Dalmatia, Dacia, Maesia, Thrace, and Macedon. Some of these lands had inhabitants that still savored the taste of human flesh. Others were remnants of ancient cultures far older than Rome that still influenced their lifestyles, such as Macedonia from which the noble Alexander derived his heritage.
The empire had brought much to the world, and even now was contributing greatly to the project of providing a modicum of civilization to those within its borders. The barbarians across the frontiers looked with envy upon the acquisitions of those that had placed their allegiance with the Eagles and had sworn fealty to the emperor of the world. While the barbarians hungered for their wealth, they also despised them for surrendering their pride and letting the Romans rule over them. Wealth flowed in a never-ending stream into the ports and cities of the empire.
Furs from Scythia, carpets from distant Babylon, the wealth of a thousand subject peoples filled the coffers of the imperial city of the Caesars. Trade goods came even from lands so distant that most thought them only to be myths.
Every year on the summer solstice, a fleet of ships would set their sails from Myoshormos in Egypt to follow the winds that would carry them to the far island of Malabar, where they would trade for the wealth of the Orient. They brought back jade, precious stones, rare animals for the arena, and most valuable of all, silk. A pound of the fine material was equal in value to a pound of gold. In December or January, the ships would set sail again to let the changing currents of the winds return them home, from whence their previous cargo would eventually find its way to the bazaars and markets of Rome itself.
Trade was the life blood of the empire. Without it, the boundaries of the empire would soon have shrunk until it contained no more than the Seven Hills of Rome itself. One may take a land by conquest, but it cannot be held long without trade. Rome had not started out to be master of the world. She had only wanted to provide herself with secure borders. But she found that every time she conquered a savage or hostile land and absorbed it into the framework of her own empire, there was always another savage or hostile land lying just beyond. In order to secure the peace of the lands she had just acquired, she would have to fight and conquer those on the new frontiers.
In comparison, Casca's small lands were poor, but he was satisfied and indeed would have preferred not to have even the responsibility he did. The dreams of conquest and dynasty were not his. He knew he was not the stuff kings are made of. In his heart and mind, he was still a common soldier and was content with the things a soldier found pleasurable-a little wine from time to time, a roll in the hay with a willing wench, and a little time to occasionally lie in the sun and sleep. The business of ruling a small tribe was almost more than he could deal with. So he ruled as a simple soldier with few rules other than common sense. He was smart enough to know that what the Romans thought of as the good life would destroy his people. Strange, but he did think of them as his people. They were just simple folk with rough rules of honor and justice. They would not have the immunities to corruption that one would inherit if he was brought up in the cities of the empire. It was best for him to keep as much distance between them as he could from the civilizing influences of Rome. The rot would come soon enough without him helping it any. He had had no desire to affect the mantle of greatness, but fate always forced him into a path he would have preferred to avoid. He was content to be himself and no more.