Suddenly, with a wild sob, she leaped to her feet and ran toward the men, but she had scarcely gone a step or two when she stopped, in terror. The nearest fellow had hurried forward, his sword raised. She screamed and fell to her knees, covering her head. There was a flash of sparks as I blocked his blow. Then, she on her belly between us, weeping, we fought over her. No more than two or three times the blades clashed and then he staggered back, a tiny bit of blood, little more than a line, on his tunic, over the heart.
"Get the girl!" cried a fellow.
She had apparently crawled out from between us, risen to her feet and fled back. I caught one fellow in the gut with the blade as he made to rush past me, after her. Another went past and I cut him down, at the neck, from behind. I looked about. I was alone. One of the gates leading down the steps to the stock pit had been opened and she had apparently fled through it, to cross the pit and ascend the steps on the other side, to flee back further in the camp. Most of the men had followed her through the gate, some had circled about the fence.
"Where is she?" I heard someone call. I heard a woman scream.
"That is not she!" said a man.
"Search the area!" cried a man.
"Search the camp!" cried another.
I circled the sunken sales area. I saw men rushing about among the cages and poles. Some of the girls naked in the tiny cages, in chains, shrank back, as far as they could, behind the bars. One of the women chained kneeling to a slave pole by the wrists clutched it as men rushed past. Another, backed against a slave pole, her hands chained together behind it, over her head, sucked in her belly and pressed, terrified, back against it.
I caught one of the fellows who had followed us against some empty, tiered kennels.
"No!" he cried.
I left him there.
I suddenly came on a fellow. He regarded me wildly. No! He was not one of those who had followed us! I had nearly cut him down.
I looked about.
The camp was large, but I did not think she would find it too easy to hide in it. Most cages and boxes would be locked, of course. Too, she was not on a chain. It would presumably be only a matter of time until she, a lovely barefoot slave loose in the camp, would attract attention. Then she would presumably be summoned to a chain or would be braceleted and held. Even if she found an excellent temporary hiding place, presumably it would not serve to conceal her indefinitely. If necessary, every square hort of the camp could be examined. Also, I did not think she could get out of the camp. It was surrounded with slave wire. She could be cut to pieces on it. Too, there were guards, and sleen.
I decided to continue looking for her.
A girl cried out, almost under my feet, twisting about in her chains. I had nearly stepped on her. She was fastened between two stakes.
I passed between tiers of cages, several of which had women in them, huddled back, chained, behind the bars.
I looked behind some of these tiers. I saw nothing, only refuse, and an urt hurrying away.
"Why is your blade drawn, fellow?" asked a man, a slaver's man.
I did not respond to him, but passed him.
I wondered if Ina had been taken by now. If so, I did not think I could help her. She had not had much of a start.
In one aisle in the camp I encountered two female slaves, naked, chained to yokes, their ankles shackled as well. From each termination of both yokes there was suspended a large wooden bucket of wastes. They were doubtless on their way to some part of the camp, probably a fosse or pit, set aside for the deposit of such materials. I think they were only too happy to kneel in my presence, this permitting them to rest the buckets on the dirt floor of the aisle, between cages. Both were quite pretty. I wondered if their present duty had been assigned to them as a discipline or punishment.
"Have you see a fair-haired slave in a brown tunic about, loose?" I asked.
"No, Master," they said, bent deeply over, looking up at me, fearfully, from the yokes.
I then left them behind, on their knees. They were, I suspected, new slaves. Perhaps in the recent past their demeanor had suggested to someone that they might have been tempted to have less than a total commitment to perfect pleasingness and instant obedience. Now, however, they had learned to kneel before men and look up at them with fear.
I was then among some wagons. I looked into the backs of several slave wagons, most of which were empty. In some of them there were slaves, who, startled, turned about, with a clink of chains, their ankles fastened about the central bar, near the floor of the wagon bed, parallel with its long axis. In one there was a hooded, back-braceleted woman sitting on the floor of the wagon bed, her back against one side. Her knees were pulled up, and must remain so, at her keeper's pleasure. She could not extend her legs because of a belly rope, a length of which passed behind her and then forward, being tied about her ankles. She was also chained by the neck to one side of the wagon and a shackle was about her left ankle, below the ropes, attaching her to the central bar. Beyond this there were several coarse ropes wound tightly about her body. Her nudity was almost concealed by them. Perhaps she was a free woman of Brundisium who had been arrogant and was now to be smuggled out of the area, to begin her life anew and on a more fitting basis, in a collar, at the feet of a master. There was no custodial need, of course, for the weight and plentitude of the restraints on her. She was merely being accustomed, I assumed, to the feel of bonds on her body. She would doubtless soon learn to beg to be pleasing, that their number might be lessened. She turned her hooded visage toward me, twisting in the restraints. She made tiny noises. Within the hood she was gagged. I then pulled down the canvas. She had a very pretty figure but it was not that of Ina. There was no blanket on the floor of the wagon.
I looked about.
Here and there, near the wagons, there were slave sacks, some occupied, usually with tags on them. These, however, were either locked shut, or tied or buckled shut. That could not be done from the inside.
"What are you doing here?" asked a fellow.
"Have you seen a blond slave," I asked, "loose, in a slit-sided brown tunic, in a strap collar?"
"No," he said.
I continued my search.
I passed a processing point but the chain, overhead, to which the shorter, individual neck chains would be attached, was not now moving. There were two or three long, low, narrow tarsk cages nearby, with chain-link sides, in which some women were waiting for processing. One or two, kneeling, were looking out, their fingers hooked in the linkage. Each cage, I noted, was locked.
I stepped aside to let a cage wagon roll by, going to the wagon yard. There were seven women in it, apparently free women, stripped.
"The camp does not open officially for another Ahn," said a fellow.
"What is going on?" asked another fellow, a slaver's man.
"Nothing," I said.
"Have you seen a blond slave in a brown tunic?" asked one of them, of me.
"Why do you ask?" I asked.
"There are several fellows about," he said, "looking for her."
"If I should see her," said one of the fellows, he who had apprised me that the camp was not yet officially open, "I will get her in slave hobbles in no time."
"There may be a reward," said another fellow.
"Yes," agreed another.
"Everyone will be looking for her," said the first fellow.
"She cannot escape the camp," said another.
"She will be apprehended momentarily," said another.
"Yes," said another.
In a moment or two, I stopped a few yards from a registration desk. There one of Ina's pursuers, I recognized him from earlier, was making inquiries of one of the five camp prefects, fellows under the camp praetor. The perfects are identified by five slash marks, alternately blue and yellow, the slavers' colors, on their left sleeve, the praetor himself by nine such stripes, and lesser officials by three. Turning about, apparently alerted by the prefect's notice, the fellow with one hand suddenly turned the prefect's desk to its side so that it stood wall-like between us, and hurried behind it.
"Begone!" he cried. "It is no longer a concern of yours! Begone!"
I advanced on him and he turned and fled.
The prefect, not much pleased, looked after him. Then he turned to face me. "No," he said, "I know nothing about a runaway blond slave."