The woman let go of a quick embarrassed laugh. “Observant, are you?” she said somewhat loudly. “Different fathers. My first man has passed.”
“Apologies.” Ahiram shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to pry.”
“How about we eat, then?” Oriana clapped, calling the children to attention. “You must be hungry.”
Ahiram grinned. “I’m always hungry.”
“Doggie hungry too,” Lilith called out. “I feed doggie.”
Oriana served a spicy stew of beans, radish, cabbage, and cracked wheat, with a hearty piece of bread and a white cheese. The girls ate a serving as large as Ahiram’s, so he gratefully accepted a second portion.
“It’s very good,” he said when Oriana served him again. “Delicious.”
“Glad you like it,” she said, smiling.
Domnina came and sat by him, observing him closely. He ignored her even though he found her gaze unsettling. After a while, she looked at her mother and said, “He needs the chin seat.”
Her voice was so rough, Ahiram nearly dropped his bowl. Juno came over and quietly told him not to comment on her voice or else Domnina would have a fit. “She’s had this voice from birth, we don’t know why.”
Ahiram nodded. “What’s a chin seat?”
Oriana squirmed and rubbed her hands nervously. “You must forgive Domnina. She speaks her mind. Always has.” Ahiram scraped his bowl with the wooden spoon. “You see, when someone, and I don’t mean just you …” her voice trailed and she looked away. She bit her lower lip and glanced at Domnina who blinked once. Oriana sighed and continued her explanation with a low sad voice. “Mycene is full of slaves. For every free person, there are three slaves here, and runaway slaves are very common. Many join large bands of shepherds like ours because we don’t own slaves; everyone is free here.”
Ahiram grunted. He was becoming uncomfortable. Is she thinking I’m a runaway slave? How could she have known I was a slave?
You wait and listen, Shadow responded. The answer is so simple.
You be quiet. I’m not asking you.
Just saying … the dog’s reply in his head was sarcastic.
Involuntarily, Ahiram glanced at Shadow. Lilith and Jin were busy grooming him, and if a dog could purr, he would have made the royal cats of Ophir jealous.
“The authorities will often stop a herd in search of runaway slaves,” the mother continued. “They spot them quickly.”
“How?” He looked at her then back at his empty bowl.
“Slaves will do what you just did,” Oriana continued softly. “When someone looks a slave in the eye, the slave will almost always bow the head and keep it low while someone is speaking. When folks become slaves, they don’t just lose their freedom; they lose the custody of their eyes.”
Ahiram was struck dumb. Six years of slavery had required the habit of looking down when spoken to, and despite the rigors of Silent training, it was still second nature. It was so transparent, so natural, he never noticed it.
I told you so, Shadow whispered in his head.
Ahiram did not reply. He knew he would have to break that habit, and break it fast, if he wanted to avoid being noticed, but how do you change a behavior you are not even aware of?
“That’s what the chin-seat is for,” Oriana said. “When a slave looks down, it’s not just a movement of the eyes. He bends his neck also. The chin-seat is a device you wear around your neck and whenever you try to look down, like you just did, there’s this piece of rough cloth that’ll scrape against the back of your neck. It’s laced with a scratchy powder, like a hot spice, and after a while when the scratching breaks your skin, the spice stings. The pain accumulates and eventually you’ll keep your head straight to avoid it. Usually, after a few weeks, you’ll stop bowing your head. You’ll act like a free man.”
Ahiram sat with cheeks flushed. He needed to think. Sensing his embarrassment, Oriana got up and signaled to Domnina to follow her. The little girl sprang to her feet, followed her mother, then changed her mind and went back to Ahiram.
“Slave hunters will be here soon,” she said in her harsh voice. “If they notice you, the shepherds won’t protect you. Too dangerous. The slave hunters, they’re good. They’ll find you and kill you.”
“Domnina,” her mother called, irritably. “Leave him alone.”
The young girl skipped away. As she did, she whistled a lively tune.
Take the chin-seat, you need it, the dog in his head said.
I’d prefer doing this on my own.
Yeah? How? Look at you. You glance at me and you look down and I’m a dog. Countless runaway slaves have used that device. Take the chin-seat.
So Ahiram took the chin-seat. He was relieved when he saw how simple the device was. He had imagined a piece of wood that would fit under his chin to keep him from lowering it, but the name was misleading. The device, if it could be called that, consisted of a piece of thick velvet cloth. Oriana opened a small pouch and sprinkled a dark powder on a small stretchable band that she stuck at the base of his neck before wrapping the velvet cloth around.
“There you are. All done. Now, cast your eyes down, the way you normally do.”
Ahiram looked down and in doing so, inclined his head ever so slightly. He felt a scratch at the base of his neck. “Just a slight scratch.”
“That’s how it starts. After a few days, you’ll feel the fire and then you won’t want to look down, not for anything. A week or two and you’ll manage to look the Nephral or any of its demons in the face.” Unconsciously, he looked down and was rewarded with another scratch. “Tyleen asked you to look after the wagons, yes? That’s great because you won’t have much to do, not until we reach the foothills of Parithen twenty days from now. That’ll give you plenty of time to straighten your head, and no one will be able to tell that you’re a runaway slave. You’ll be safe.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” He was truly grateful.
“Don’t,” she replied gruffly. Then softening, she added, “Thanking me in the open like so brings bad luck. Wear the chin-seat all day and take it off after sundown, if you can last that long.” She turned around and left.
Ahiram spent the rest of the day alone and he was grateful for that. Shadow was nowhere around, and Oriana and the girls were helping with meal preparation. Oriana’s son, Juno, had gone with the shepherds. By midday, the scratching had become an irritation, and the irritation fueled his anger and shame. He was upset with himself, because, despite his best efforts, he could not stop looking down. No matter how much he argued or reasoned with himself, as soon as he saw someone, anyone, whether close by or in the distance, if they looked his way, Ahiram bowed his head.
That’s a good lesson, he reasoned. It tells me I’m blind to my own habits, to the things I do without even noticing. What else am I not seeing?
For the next two weeks, Ahiram fell into a new routine. His job was simple, if not simplistic: harness the bulls to the wagons in the morning, and keep them behind the herd as they moved south. At dusk, he would untie the beasts and prepare the wagons for the night. True to Oriana’s words, the back of his neck was on fire, forcing him to keep his head straight even when someone looked at him or spoke to him. I guess I am starting to act like a free man, he thought. This has definitely been useful.
His only complaint was the speed with which the herd moved. It was slow, very slow. At this rate, we won’t reach the coast before summer, he thought bitterly. As he surveyed the sheep he was struck by another simple fact: They don’t need to reach Parithen quickly. This plain offers free food for the herd and they’ll take as much of it as they can. Why didn’t I think of this when I decided to join them? I don’t think I can continue at this speed. I’ll have to leave them soon. He bowed his head and was rewarded with another flash of pain.
Toward early evening, the wagons reached a wide patch that had recently burned. This fire must have taken place when the wolves attacked. Something caught his attention. The
inner edge of the burned path formed a straight line, whereas the outer edge, the edge closest to the woods where he had been hiding that night, was jagged. He knelt and inspected the area closely, careful to keep his head straight. It looks like the fire was started here and pushed out. There must have been sheep here. Why start a fire in the midst of the herd instead of starting it by the woods, closer to the wolves?
He walked the length of the charred line, then walked toward the woods. While the grass and the bushes along the inner line were thoroughly burned, there was vegetation left toward the outer edge. This confirms my suspicion that the fire fanned out from the inside. Who would do such a thing and why?
Simple, the dog in his head answered, to scare the sheep and hurt the shepherds. This must have been the work of a competing clan.
The simplicity of the answer surprised him. Before I raise suspicion, I’ll need evidence.
Suit yourself, Shadow replied. After all, I’m just a dog.
Oriana called him to dinner. He joined her and the three girls and helped with the meal preparation. The young girls ignored him and instead, lavished their attention on Shadow, grooming him, petting him, and watching him eat.
“A great dog you have,” Oriana said handing him a bowl of stew. “He’s very good with children.”
Ahiram nodded and said nothing. He glanced at Oriana and saw her look at him.
“You’re not eating. Don’t you like my cooking?” Ahiram was about to bow his head to eat but caught himself at the last moment. He kept his eyes level and raised the bowl. Oriana smiled. “Very good. A few more days and you’re a free man.”
“Actually, this is my last day with the chin-seat. I won’t need it any longer. It’s done its part.”
The three girls perked up and sat motionless.
“Really? A few more days won’t hurt. That’s a stubborn habit. If not rooted out completely, it’ll come back quickly.”
Ahiram nodded as he extended his arm for seconds. “I know, but I also know when I’m done, and I’m done.”
“Very well, then.” Getting up to serve him, she dropped his bowl. “Oh, clumsy me,” she said softly and hurried inside the wagon to grab a towel and more stew.
“It took me three tries to be rid of the habit,” she told him as she handed him a fresh bowl. “Careful, it’s steaming hot. If you can do it the first time, that would be a great accomplishment.”
He nodded and decided to change the subject. “How many herds are there on the plain?”
“Here? At this time of the year?”
He nodded. “Domnina said the slave hunters will be here soon. I figure the more I know about how the herds share this plain, the better. You know, keeping my options open, so to speak.”
“Keep your head straight and resist their orders, and you’ll do just fine, but a bit of herding education won’t hurt, I suppose. Help me clean the pots and prepare the wagons for the night, and then we’ll talk.”
There was so little to do that Ahiram wondered why she had asked him for his help.
“You can’t predict what you’ll be doing when the slave hunters arrive, so when you wash the pots and pans you must do it without bowing your head unnecessarily. Do you understand?”
“Yes, that makes sense. Thank you.”
Oriana started a small fire as the sky turned to a deep purple. The light receded to the west, leaving behind a scintillating, diamond-studded trail of stars and a wind that could not make up its mind. It spent the night blowing cold air in intermittent jets like a capricious child alternating between bouts of temper tantrums and moments of quiet contentment. They sat around the fire and she handed him a hot cup of tea. Huddled around the light, Ahiram listened to Oriana tell tales of the shepherds.
“In Mycene, we’re very fond of sheep products. We couldn’t go on without sheep’s milk, yogurt, cheese, and wool. We don’t herd sheep just because it’s a good business, we do it because that’s who we are.”
“What about the meat?”
“Yeah, sheep meat as well, but that’s reserved for special occasions and the rich. You can’t go about slaughtering your herd, or else you’ll be destitute. So, yes, we do eat sheep, but on special occasions. We eat fish too, but that’s not what we’re talking about here.”
“I’ve seen sheep herds outside of Mycene,” pointed out Ahiram.
“True, but have you seen herds this big? I doubt it. People of Thermodon, to the north, raise bulls and cows, and Tanniinites raise poultry and pork. Don’t get me wrong, there are sheep in both kingdoms, and also in Togofalk to the west, and even in Bar-Tanic. But herds this size? I don’t think so.”
“So what’s so special about herds this size?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The size, of course. As herds grow in size, you then stand to win big or lose everything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ve seen the number of shepherds working here, yes?”
He nodded.
“You know you don’t need that many shepherds for this many sheep, right? So how do we make money?”
“I suppose Tyleen, the head shepherdess, pays them.”
Oriana scoffed. “Pay them? With what money? All her wealth, all her fortune is right here before you, in the herd. When we reach Parithen, we’ll shear the sheep and auction the wool to the highest bidder, then we’ll sell two-thirds of the herd. If all goes well, Tyleen will earn double what she borrowed from the Tajéruun. She’ll pay them back, and then once the winter has passed, we’ll go back home in the north, and in three years we will come back down with a herd this big or even bigger. Only this time, Tyleen would have borrowed a third of the funds needed, and in three years’ time, she won’t have to borrow anything.”
“So you hope to be paid in six years?”
“Which part of the world do you hail from? Tyleen is a good shepherdess, she’s strong, she protects the herd, and she cares about us.”
“What happens if you fail? I mean, what happens if you can’t repay the Tajéruun?”
“Simple, really. They’ll send their henchmen to repossess the herd and they’ll sell it to other herds, and then sell us as slaves to recover their losses. That’s how it works.”
“So why borrow from them?”
“At four percent, their interest rate is unbeatable. That’s a special deal they cut with our queen. Besides, they know it’s in their best interest as well. Sheep herds are at the heart of the economy here. What they lose with us, they make up with other merchants in Parithen.”
Ahiram saw the opening he needed to steer the conversation his way. “Why not borrow from other sheep herders? I’m sure there must be some who are already rich and wouldn’t mind helping a fellow shepherd.”
Oriana laughed bitterly. “You would think so, now wouldn’t you? There’s a guild of shepherds that is supposed to represent our interests and protect the shepherds …” Oriana looked over her shoulder and continued in a hushed tone, “Six years ago, the Temple of Baal called a meeting of the guild representatives in Parithen, and since that day, the guild has been run by a high priestess appointed by Baal.”
“You have a good memory for things.”
“I remember the exact day.” He could hear how bitter she was. “It was the fourteenth of the month of Tébêt of the year 1191. It was Shamash, the last day of the week, and what a beautiful Shamash it turned out to be. We were celebrating my sister’s …” Oriana saw the look of concern on Ahiram’s face. “Don’t worry, it’s been so long …” she sighed. “I’m over the pain now … well mostly.”
“Lemme guess, High Riders took your sister away, right?”
She looked at him with a sad and vanquished smile. “They said they were rounding up members of the Black Robes. My sister with the Black Robes?” She scoffed. “She was more like a lamb. How dare the Temple think she could be connected to those criminals?”
“What happened then?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened. I haven’t seen my sister since.
Eventually, I left that herd and joined Tyleen’s. That’s what happened.”
“Did others join you? Surely there were others who felt like you.”
Oriana snorted derisively. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? No, I came here alone. Nearly died in the process, but that’s another story.”
Ahiram nodded. “So you think that because the High Riders took your sister away, Baal must have taken over the guild?”
She nodded. “Before, a herd was like a sanctuary. High Riders left us alone. They didn’t bother anyone. They know how important herds are for the economy. But since that day, they’ve been keeping watch and sending their slave hunters after us.”
“Are all the herds affected?”
“Some more than others. Tyleen is strong. She’s one of the strongest shepherdesses, and they usually leave her alone.”
Domnina came over and stared at her mother with a hard, demanding stare. Ahiram felt once more that something was off but could not pinpoint it. Oriana got up. “I must be on my way, we have much to do to close up camp, and Domnina doesn’t like to go to bed late. She gets crabby.” She walked toward the young girl and gave her hand.
“You talk too much,” Domnina said, the wind carrying her harsh voice clearly. “You shouldn’t.”
Whatever Oriana said, Ahiram didn’t get to hear it. Just then Shadow sauntered by and flopped on the grass before him, breathing heavily as if he had been running.
Learn anything interesting? the dog in his head said.
A few things, Ahiram replied. The day after my abduction from Baher-Ghafé, the High Riders went looking for the Black Robes in Mycene. Coincidence? Maybe. But if they were looking for me with the same ferocity back then as they hunted me during the Games of the Mines, is it possible that they destroyed my village also? Anger flashed in his eyes and he felt dark rage within him rise.
Careful, the dog in his head said. This is not the time to blow up.
Ahiram breathed sharply. Agreed. So, six years ago, they looked for me in Baher-Ghafé and didn’t find me, so they widened the search maybe to Byblos, and further up the Finikian coast. Two weeks go by, and they still haven’t found me, so they think of Mycene. The herds are a sanctuary, so the Temple sets up a puppet of their own over the guild to give the High Riders the right to search for me inside the herds. They must have suspected her sister of magic and took her away.
The Wretched Race (Epic of Ahiram Book 3) Page 17