Half-Breed

by Anna L. Walls

  Patro joined the volatile gathering seconds after the fight was broken up. “You will not kill one of my slaves,” he said as he pushed his way into the middle of the gathering. “What happened here?”

  “Your pet attacked me,” said the guard bitterly.

  “My pet?” said Patro. “I do not have pets.” He looked at Canis who was covered with just as much blood as the guard was. “You men were all informed of the potential consequences of damage to my property at your hands. How much of that blood is his?”

  “I don’t know; not much I’m sure. He was the one doing all the scratching and biting,” replied the guard sullenly.

  “From your pay will come the cost of the water I have to use to wash away the blood to find out the answer to that question, and if we run short, you will be the one going thirsty. You will also pay for his tunic and pants that are now blood stained and useless, and if he has been damaged, you’ll be added to my chain; maybe your price will make up for what I lose from his sale, but I doubt it. Now, someone, explain to me how this came about.”

  When no one was readily forthcoming with an explanation, Patro turned to Gem. “Tell me what happened, slave.”

  “Yes, master,” said Gem from where she knelt. “The master,” she indicated the bloodied guard with a wave of her slender hand, “ordered us to accompany him to collect fire wood, then he struck Canis to the ground and started to whip me. That is when Canis attacked him.”

  Patro turned to the guard. “Why did you strike my slaves?”

  “The little brat didn’t bow. He just stared at me like…like I was beneath him or something, and she’s with him all the time. She should have taught him how to behave by now.”

  “You may have been justified to strike young Canis, but not Gem. Gem is worth at least five thousand gold pieces to me on the block in Chicago, if she is undamaged. Can you afford to compensate me for that kind of a loss?”

  The guard blanched. “No sir,” he replied.

  “Well then, when you own your own slave, you may discipline her any way you please. Until then, I suggest you refrain from damaging my property. You…” he pointed to the guard who held Canis, “get him washed up then bring him to me.” He turned back to the bloody guard. “You, go see Mia, and get those wounds patched up.”

  An hour later, the guard brought Canis to Patro’s tent. “He has no open wounds, sir,” said the guard.

  Patro looked at the growing bruise that was threatening to dominate the entire side of Canis’s head. “Whatever possessed you to attack a free man? I won’t even mention the fact that the man was more than four times your size.”

  Canis couldn’t explain and didn’t try. It was the right thing to do. He stood there quietly.

  “I’m going to have to beat you. Go and wait by the wagon wheel.”

  Canis was confused. Why wait by the wagon wheel? He’d wait and see. All his short life, he’d had to wait to find the answers to his questions. He was used to waiting.

  As Canis turned to follow the guard back outside, Patro stopped him. “Canis, you are going to have to learn to bow to whatever free man speaks to you.” He paused for a moment as Canis turned to look at him. “I just gave you a command. I am your master. I am a free man. Bow to me.”

  Gem had many times pointed out how he was to act, but bowing destroyed his view and made him vulnerable. He would never lower his eyes to a potential enemy, and he had yet to find anyone who was not such an enemy. This man came the closest though; he deserved an explanation – he tried. He looked around the tent without seeing its contents, trying to find some means of explaining. His mouth opened. He raised a hand. It was no good – no use. The only way to explain was to use words and there were no words. He closed his mouth and dropped the hand. He was out of the tent a moment later. Even the guard who controlled his leash was surprised by this development. It was more communicative animation than either of them had ever seen out of him.

  When Patro went out to the wagon a few minutes later, Canis was standing there waiting for him. “Take off your tunic.” When the tunic was on the ground, Patro signaled to the guard to tie the boy’s hands to the top of the wheel. With his hands tied to the top of the wheel, they were level with the top of his head. He looked so small tied like that. As soon as they were secure, Patro began to whip him. He used a whip that was about three inches wide and about four feet long with a stiff core. It raised a long wide welt, but it didn’t break the skin or bruise. Patro laid ten stripes across Canis’s small back, “for the attack on a free man,” he said.

  Canis stood stoically letting only a small gasp escape his lips at the first stroke, a reaction to the pain to be sure, but more to surprise. Only a moment ago he was trying to explain. No more. Never again. He was an enemy after all.

  After the last stroke, Patro reached around and gripped the boy’s chin. Canis didn’t flinch. He scarcely felt the touch over the pain that was coursing through his body from the whip. As soon as he met Patro’s eyes he said, “Ten strips for attacking a free man, and now I’m going to give you three more for not bowing to me. From now on, you will get three stripes for every time you do not bow; do you understand me?”

  Canis didn’t answer. He didn’t even try. Never again, I will never trust him again.

  After the last three stripes, the spectators dispersed. Canis sagged. The wheel was too big to allow for his knees to reach the ground, but he collapsed just the same allowing his chest to take his full weight on the hub.

  Setback

  Canis curled up on his blanket when he was taken back to his place in the line that evening. Assuming he was sleeping, Gem didn’t bother him except to drape his tunic over his shoulders. Supper was long over, but he wasn’t hungry anyway.

  The next morning, when the guard approached to give him his bowl of gruel, Canis growled at him and crab-walked away to the farthest reach of his leash. He wouldn’t even let Gem approach him. He warned her off with an unmistakable snarl. In fact, anyone who approached to within the reach of his leash got the same warning. The calm level stare everyone had become accustomed to was replaced with a hateful menacing glare. It was impossible to tell if he even recognized the people around him.

  When this was reported to Patro, he immediately came to investigate. Patro saw that Canis had yet to touch his food and that he was curled up in a tight ball on his blanket, his tunic lay where it had dropped when he had been roused by the guard who brought his food, and the signs of his whipping, still red but no longer raised, were plainly visible. “Canis, what seems to be the problem?” he asked.

  Though Canis had been watching his every move, he bristled at the sound of his voice.

  “Canis, pick up your tunic,” said Patro, more to see what he would do, if anything.

  Canis’s wariness increased and his eyes narrowed further than they already were. Patro could see that his eyes were dilated more than the dim light of the dawn warranted. “Gem, have you talked to him?” asked Patro without looking away.

  “No, master, he won’t allow me close,” she replied.

  He considered the situation. “We’ll stay here a day. Maybe the wind won’t be blowing so hard tomorrow.” He didn’t believe so for a moment, but he’d give the boy that much time to recuperate. Canis was apparently shocky from the whipping and what had been ‘tame’ in him before was buried under the pain. He unhooked the end of Canis’s leash and made to lead the kid to his tent. If it weren’t for the guards following, it was likely the leading would have been more like dragging, provided Canis didn’t decide to attack his back.

  Canis went, hunched and dodging and snarling every inch of the way. Once the leash was again secured to a slave ring inside Patro’s tent, Canis slunk to a dark corner.

  Patro watched him all day to see when he fell asleep or returned to himself.

  Canis didn’t sleep or even close his eyes for a doze. Every time Patro moved, he would growl a warning at him. It was a very long day for both of them, and the night was
no better.

  During the night, Canis came to a decision. I cannot keep this up. Not like this. I will go back to waiting. I am good at waiting.

  When Patro came to check on him, he did nothing. Patro handed him his tunic and Canis accepted it from his hand and put it on.

  “Canis, will you listen to me now?” asked Patro.

  Canis looked from him to the tent flap where he could hear the guards moving around as they got the morning moving, then after a short hesitation, he sat down again.

  “Do you understand why you had to be whipped?” asked Patro.

  Canis looked at him.

  “Damn it kid, I wish you could talk. Why can’t you talk? How did your mother talk to you? Did you even have a mother? How about a father? Why did those people throw you out into the street in front of my horses? I have a lot of questions and you can’t answer them, can you?” He studied Canis’s face carefully. “Canis, you need to bend that stiff neck of yours and bow to the free men who speak to you. Like I said last night, from now on, if you don’t bow, you will earn three stripes with the whip. Do you understand?”

  Canis refused to respond. There was not the slightest crack in the ice that were his eyes or the stone that was his face. It was unsettling that so much stone and ice should belong to so small a child.

  Patro closed his eyes and sighed. If last night was long, today may well be longer. He rose and returned Canis to his place on the line.

  That day was indeed a long one. Canis did not bow so much as an eyelash to any order he was given, and in response, he received three lashes for every offense. He stood without the need for restraints each time, then went about whatever task he had been given to do. By the time the sun went down, he no longer wore his tunic and kept it tied around his leash. His small back was so raw that it hurt to have the material rub it. By the end of the next day, the guards were all reluctant to talk to him. They had learned that, rather than bow, he would take his three stripes, and only a sadist would continue to dish out such damage to one small boy.

  One evening, six days after the attack, the guards rounded up three of the slaves to gather firewood. For this and other such chores, the guards were usually in control of the leash while the slaves did the gathering and carrying. It was also common for Canis to be on the wood gathering crew, so this evening was no different. At least it was no different until they were out of sight of camp.

  Only a handful of minutes after the camp was no longer in sight, Canis picked up a fist-sized rock and threw it at his guard, knocking him senseless. He then gathered up his chain and sprinted off into the brush.

  He had to act quickly; the alarm was already being called. He needed to find a place to hide. He wasn’t big enough to out run any of the guards in an open chase. With a snarl at himself, it occurred to him that he might have picked a bad time to make his escape. Though he’d succeeded in getting away, keeping his freedom might not be so easy. This was not a very good country for hiding. The brush was rather large, but it was sparse and none of the few things that could be called trees were near big enough to climb, let alone hide in.

  He managed to find a small gulch where he buried himself in the sandy dirt and loose brush. He waited. He was prepared to wait all night and well into the next day. He suspected Patro wouldn’t let him go easily, but he hoped he wouldn’t want to delay his travels for one small slave who had to be beaten several times every day.

  Patro and his men searched throughout the night and all during the next day. They found Canis when he came out of his hiding place shortly after it became dark again. He wasn’t easy to catch and Patro knew that if the boy managed to escape again, there would be a slim chance of capturing him a second time. It was an unfortunate development.

  By the time Canis was returned to the line with his hands and arms securely bound behind his back and a gag in his mouth, all four of the guards bore some mark dealt out during his capture. One sported a black eye that matched the one Canis still had, another had several scratches, another almost lost an eye, and the guard who already bore several wounds dealt out by Canis, was bleeding again from more than one of them and sported a few more as well as a new limp.

  From that point on, Canis stopped trying to be good. All his efforts had only drawn whippings and the occasional beating. No one will ever touch me again. No one will get close enough without me tasting some blood.

  For three days, Canis was kept bound. One of the guards did manage to remove the gag without injury, though it was a close thing. For three days, no one could get close enough to feed him; he didn’t even allow Gem to get close and she was forbidden to try after he almost succeeded in biting her hand. For three days, he walked along with the rest of the line, though he maintained as much distance from the others as his chain would allow.

  On the evening of the day before they were to reach Louisville, it was Mia who brought him his food. Mia held a unique position in the camp. She had been a slave all her life and had done just about everything there is for a female slave to do somewhere along the line. Now, she was rather old. Her resale value was next to nothing on the block, but Patro had found her to be valuable despite her age. She was the camp cook and occasionally the camp healer and it wasn’t uncommon for Patro to take her advice about the slaves when she offered it.

  She knelt down on the edge of the perimeter Canis guarded and watched him closely. His eyes were wary and resentful and his hands were still tied behind his back. “Canis, I know you’re hungry. I’ve never hurt you. Will you allow me to feed you?” she said with a soft voice.

  She had never seen the like before in all of her years, but she persisted. With a bowl in one hand and a jug of water in the other, she moved forward on her knees and she was rewarded with a snarl. “No, Canis. You have to eat. You can’t continue to starve yourself. Please let me feed you.” She moved forward again.

  Canis was so hungry, and though he hadn’t noticed it before, Mia sounded just like his mother. She had the same soft voice, and for a moment, it was his mother who knelt there. He tried to warn her away with a snarl as he curled up into a tighter ball, but a tear escaped to trail down his dirty face.

  “Oh, Canis,” she murmured. She set aside the things in her hand and drew the small bundle of boy into her ample lap. His snarls and struggles rapidly turned into sobs.

  Mia held and rocked the boy for a long time. Word reached Patro about this newest development and he went to see.

  As Patro stood over them, Mia looked up at him. “You’re not going to be able to turn him into a slave, master. He can’t do it; it’s more than just being able to say the words or bow.”

  Patro stood there and considered them for a long time. As a slave, by the time he was about sixteen, Canis would have been every bit as valuable as Gem was now, even if he couldn’t make him bow. He could be such a collector’s item with those glowing blue-gray eyes in that porcelain face and that shock of red hair that was starting to become such a rich copper color.

  He sighed. “All right, all right.” He reached down and unlocked all of the chains. “Try to convince him to stay. He’s not old enough to take care of himself yet.” He left, taking the collection of chains with him.

  During their stay in Louisville, Canis never left Mia’s side; she had worked a miracle as far as he was concerned. The chains were gone. The kiss of freedom – something he’d always wanted and had never tasted – was his to feel and explore, but he wasn’t about to leave Mia unprotected; he’d guard her with his life if need be.

  Along the road to Indianapolis, he ventured out of her sight more often. She was well protected in the caravan and those far away, oh so enticing scents simply had to be explored.

  By the time they reached Chicago, the marks of the turmoil that had ended Canis’s enslavement was gone as if it never happened. Also by then, Canis was beginning to hunt at night. He went to great lengths to make such movements unseen though he was less careful returning. He preferred to keep them guessing about his mo
vements and whereabouts, and allowing the guards to see him returning without knowing he’d left, accomplished that nicely. He was rather proud of the fact that he usually brought back something to add to the cook-pot.

  Chicago School of the Sword

  It took quite a while before Canis stopped snarling at anyone who came too close to him or Mia, but with her chiding him every time she heard, he eventually desisted, though he never lowered his guard. By the time they reached the desert again a year later, Canis seemed to be back to what had been normal for him before the unfortunate incident at the wagon wheel. He did the work he was asked to do and did it to the best of his ability and without the supervision the slaves on their leashes required.

  The boy who strode through camp now, bore little resemblance to the child who had come into their lives a little over a year ago. The matted straw that had been his hair in the beginning had long since been trimmed away and the heavy copper strands that were left behind were long enough to tie back with a strip of leather. His porcelain skin glowed with sun-kissed health and his frame had stacked at least a foot to his height. Aside from these remarkable features, he looked like most any other skinny kid. His wiry strength was only apparent when he shed his tunic. That’s when the corded muscles, so incongruous to his young age, were visible.

  Canis hunted most every night, especially when towns and cities were no longer in sight, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to bring back a couple rabbits or grouse, which Mia added to the morning gruel; this addition of meat to the slaves’ diet improved their energy as well – even Patro could see the difference.

  When they traveled across the desert between Kansas and Louisville, he would bring in such things as snakes, big lizards and long legged rabbits the size of a small dog.

  Patro couldn’t figure out how he was being so successful at these hunts when he didn’t have any weapons. He had seen the guards teaching the kid to shoot a bow, but when he hunted at night, he didn’t use a bow. The guards hunted along their path every day, but their luck paled compared to the boy’s nighttime forays, though they generally brought back larger animals.