by Chuck Dixon
“I feared they would come for me next.” His eyes were empty and staring.
“You did nothing wrong,” she said.
“Now I am free of that old man.” Praxus’ quivering lips formed a smile.
“Dum spiro, spero,” she said and touched his arm. While I breathe, I hope.
Praxus turned to face her, amused.
“I am free while you will be sold a slave.” He grinned, his eyes moving over her face to gauge her reaction. “Soon to have a strange cock up your ass.”
Praxus yelped as Xin took him by the back of the hair and growled in his ear before tossing him to the deck. Xin walked sternward with the bloody ax on his shoulder. Praxus rose from the deck with fists to his eyes. The boy was sobbing.
“What was that?” Caroline said.
“I am to be sold when we reach Rhodes,” he stammered, eyes streaming. He turned from them and ran down the steps to the shadows of the hold.
Caroline felt pity for him. The literal author of all their troubles had tasted freedom for perhaps five minutes. He was an obnoxious little asshole, but he was still a kid.
“The past sucks,” she said. “Remind me next time I want to go into the Tube.”
“As if you’d listen,” Dwayne said.
52
Colossus
THEY SPENT THE following week closely watched by Xin during the day and secured with manacles to the mast during the nights with only a sulking Praxus for company. Caroline was grateful that they’d not been returned to their former place in the dank hold. It was even more miserable below with the sand ballast gone and the bilge constantly awash over the keel boards despite frequent bailing.
Caroline made a fight of it the first time they placed the manacles on her wrist. That earned her a clout from Xin that dropped her dazed to the decking.
“Not here. Not yet.” Dwayne’s voice.
He explained that there was no way to improve their situation while on the open sea. They would wait until they got to Rhodes.
“You’d think these bastards would be the least bit grateful,” she said with her aching head resting back on the mast. “You practically saved the ship and everyone on it.”
“They didn’t try and castrate us again,” he said. “That’s enough gratitude for me.”
She nodded, but it only sharpened the pain in her cheek where Xin’s fist had connected and opened the skin.
“We get to Rhodes and see what looks promising,” Dwayne continued. “We’re still on the same course as in the book even though we’ll get there later. Morris and Jimbo will follow the template. They’ll be waiting for us in Rhodes.”
“I hope so.”
“You have to believe it,” he insisted.
She tried.
AT NIGHT, BOUND to the mast, Caroline engaged Praxus in conversation. She was trying to share some of Dwayne’s dogged optimism that they would make it out of this and back to their own time. And so, she was not going to miss an opportunity to learn more about this world from an inhabitant. Her spirits weren’t lifted, but her compulsive personality helped focus her thoughts away from the place they were in.
The slave boy did not feel like answering questions. His replies were terse and sullen. To try and draw him from his mood, she told him stories. Caroline was surprised that, even though Praxus was well-read for a boy of his age and circumstance, he had never heard of Homer. She found herself in the ironic situation of recounting the tale of the Iliad and the Odyssey in Latin to an ancient Greek. The blind poet’s epic, as much of it as Caroline could recall, helped to distract Praxus if not lift him from his mood.
Each night he would drift off to sleep as Caroline told him of Cassandra and Helen, Achilles and Hector, and brave Odysseus. She would pick up the next night where she left off. It was of some comfort to him and helped keep her mind from what the days ahead might bring.
As much as she tried not to think of what might happen when this voyage ended, Caroline could not help bringing it up to Dwayne.
“You have to stop fussing over it,” he said. “Concentrate on right now and keep your eye on me. When the time comes to make a change in our plan, I’ll let you know.”
This was Dwayne’s area of expertise. She was more than content to let him take the lead. That they’d survived this long was due to his resourcefulness and toughness; toughness of mind as well as body. But there were still so many things that might go wrong, so many variables and misadventures that lay between them and any possible return to the future. The Now, as the Rangers called it.
“But still, something could happen,” she said. “Anything can happen. If I didn’t know that before I sure as shit know it after meeting you and your brother.”
“We might not make it home. We could stay here. Die here.”
“I wish you’d stop thinking about that, Caroline.”
“I’m not thinking about it. I’m accepting it. Tell me you haven’t prepared for that possibility. Mentally, I mean.”
“I’ll make a Ranger of you yet.” She could hear the smile in his voice despite the darkness that hid his features.
“Then there’s something I need to tell you, Dwayne.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I’m serious.”
“Look, if this is how you feel about me, then you should know that—”
She cut him short: “Rick Renzi didn’t die.” Dwayne was silent.
Caroline told him about her friend Jane in London and what she’d learned by studying the skeletal remains of Richard Renzi.
“There’s no way we can go back for him. I’m so sorry,” she concluded.
“Yeah. The barrier. These last trips made a wall in time we can’t cross,” he said.
“If I had only found out a few days sooner. I’m so terribly sorry,” she said and leaned toward him to place her head on his shoulder. He was quivering, and she reached as far as the chains would allow to give his arm a comforting stroke. He hooted, and she realized that he was shaking with contained laughter. Caroline sat upright and regarded him with surprise.
“Ricky trapped in a place where there’s no beer or cigarettes,” he snickered. “He must be making life hell for those man-eating little fuckers.”
“That’s funny to you? He lived the rest of his life— forty years or more—with those animals.” She was appalled.
“You don’t know Ricky, honey. He wouldn’t have made thirty the way he was living. Staying in Bedrock is maybe the best thing that could have happened to him. Like prehistoric rehab.”
“That’s it? What happened to ‘no man left behind?’” she stammered. It made him laugh harder.
“I’ll tell you this,” he said once he’d recovered. “I am sure-as-shit curious about what went down after we left.”
THE LION OF BA’AL rowed into the sheltered harbor of Rhodes a lamb.
With the ferocious ram and breastworks gone and the war shields stowed below deck, she looked like any other trader plying the seas and raised little notice as Ahinadab guided her toward the opening in the ring wall that encircled the harbor. Lazy soldiers leaned on spears atop the wall and watched the ship cruise past without comment or challenge.
The city of Rhodes hugged the natural curve of a bay, buildings gleaming white under a clear afternoon sky. A carpet of red-tiled rooftops led up toward grander structures of marble pillars and a walled fortress of stone stucco-ed with lime. At the end of a pier stood the Colossus of Rhodes—one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. It was a statue of a naked Helios, a titan of Greek mythology. It stood ten stories tall at the crown of leaves atop its head and another thirty or so feet of an extended arm holding a torch.
It was all bronze from the knees up and probably gleamed like a new penny when it was first put up. Now, after twenty or more years, a dull patina covered the surface, and the head and shoulders were dusted white with bird shit. A flock of gulls was perched along the top even now, and there was a pelican nest atop Helios’ head.
Caroline
studied it with open amazement as they scudded beneath it. To Dwayne, it looked like a gay Statue of Liberty.
The Colossus did not stand astride the sea gate as legend portrayed it. It stood on a massive plinth set at the end of a pier that jutted into the sea with massive marble feet close together and one knee slightly bent.
The Lion, sail furled and oars backing, warped to a berth where men waited to catch lines and secure the vessel to the quay against stout wooden mooring piers. Ahinadab, in his best robe and his girdle polished, was the first to step down onto the quayside. The captain, accompanied by Xin, tossed copper coins to the dock men who tied up the Lion’s lines. Xin left his ax with the rowing boss. As Caroline surmised, the ax was a badge of rank as well as a weapon of intimidation. The rowing boss was skipper while the captain and first mate were ashore. Traders looking to do business met Ahinadab when he and Xin were only a few steps onto land.
Praxus explained that ships that sailed from the sight of land were rare and the most daring captains were highly sought after. A talented Phoenician trader could make Carthage or Ostia or Alexandria weeks ahead of more cautious competitors who hugged the coastline. Ahinadab was most prized because he was thought to be thoroughly mad but highly favored by the gods.
“I’ll swear to that on both counts,” Dwayne said when Caroline had translated.
“When will we be sold?” Caroline asked Praxus.
“I cannot know. Perhaps we will be purchased outright. Most likely we will be taken to auction.” Praxus shuddered at that and said no more.
THE CAUSE OF Praxus’ anxiety became clear to Caroline when she and Dwayne and the boy were brought to the marketplace. They were manacled wrist and ankle. Dwayne was bound with ropes. Nooses were looped over their throats and secured to a single leash, which was used to pull them along the deck and out onto the quay for the trip to the market.
Caroline looked back for a last glance at the Lion of Ba’al. Ahinadab stood at the port freeboard and called to Xin, who was in charge of taking them for auction.
“Ahinadab tells Xin to insist on the best price and to not get drunk,” Praxus said. Xin jerked the boy’s rope collar at the mention of his name.
Caroline wasn’t sure which was worse as they were led like animals through the market crowd: the ones who ignored them as if they did not exist, or the ones who took an interest in them as though they were livestock. They followed Xin down lanes crowded with stalls filled with cloth, pottery, fresh fish, and meat.
Animal carcasses hung alongside cheeses and all surrounded by clouds of flies shooed away by boys apathetically waving rattan flails. There were merchants with beads, oil, sandals, weaponry, wood carvings, ivory carvings, dishware, brassware, wine, and cakes. One stall had a fire going under a broad iron grill where a sweating man flipped patties of ground meat.
There’s your McDonald’s, Dwayne, Caroline thought.
They were elbowed, kicked, and pawed as they made their way through the crush at the center of the twisting lane. They were less than nothing and targets of derision, scorn, indifference and, in some cases, lust. A grunting man in Arab dress took Praxus by the arm and openly rubbed a hand on the boy’s crotch while humming to himself. Xin strode back and whipped the pervert with the end of the lead rope, more angered at being delayed than having his merchandise molested.
The lane emptied out into a broad square surrounded by three-story buildings all around. At its center was a raised wooden platform encircled by a crowd of men shouting eagerly and waving hands to be seen. Atop the platform stood a quartet of naked men. They were filthy and thin and stood with heads lowered. A chubby man in a yellow robe, the first actual overweight person Caroline had seen since arriving here, moved before the men waving a stick of some kind at the crowd who laughed and called out to one another.
This was a slave auction. This is what awaited Dwayne and her.
The fat trader held one of the men on the block upright by the hair and forced his mouth open to show his teeth. He pinched the flesh of the miserable man’s biceps and thighs and made remarks that raised guffaws from the men at the foot of the stage. He made each of the four slaves stand on first one leg and then the other. He ordered them to lift each other’s genitals and the crowd exploded in mirth.
He turned to the crowd and spread his hands. The audience grew silent. The trader pointed his stick at the quartet and held up four fingers. They would be sold as a lot. The bidding began and was furious at first before petering out to two men and finally ending. The four were walked from the stage down a flight of steps at the rear.
Xin urged his charges forward with a sharp tug until they reached the bottom of the steps. Caroline stumbled, and Dwayne stopped his progress to allow her to fall against him for support. Xin called out to the trader who came to the edge of the platform.
Praxus translated the exchange.
Xin said he had some fine specimens for sale. Romans and an educated Greek.
The trader said that he was interested but had many slaves for sale before them. Xin would have to wait.
Xin countered with a promise of a bonus atop his regular commission if the trader would put his merchandise on the block ahead of the queue. Praxus added that Xin was anxious to get drunk despite Ahinadab’s orders to the contrary.
The trader considered this and finally nodded concession while gesturing Xin to bring his slaves forward.
It all seemed so normal, and matter of fact, this trafficking of human souls. Caroline was struck by the inhuman callousness of it. She was certainly not naïve after all she had seen and experienced. But at least the man-eating protohumans of the valley in Nevada were acting on pure animal instinct. This was naked commerce of the vilest sort. Slaves stood docile, waiting their turn to be sold to the highest bidder. She wondered how they could go to their fate without any sign of defiance or protest. Then she saw the rough men lounging close along the face of the stage. They were armed with thick clubs and one man held a cat—a whip with many strands of leather tipped with metal barbs. Many of those waiting to be sold showed signs of beatings, old and new, on their torsos, arms, and legs.
It struck her that each, and every one of those waiting their turn on the block was naked. Involuntarily she hesitated before setting a foot on the first step to follow Dwayne to the stage. Xin cuffed her across the back of the head and she climbed the steps, pulling Praxus behind her on their shared line.
Xin shoved them roughly forward into full view of the surrounding crowd which began to mutter to one another their appraisal of this new offering.
The trader raised hands to quiet the crowd and went into his pitch. Praxus stood silent, and Caroline did not ask him to translate. She could only stand and fight down the urge to shake convulsively as her mind reeled with the dreadful possibilities to come in the next moments.
Dwayne’s line was cut, and he was pulled forward. He turned and met Caroline’s eyes with a hard look before being jerked to the stage edge by the leash in Xin’s fists.
She wanted to believe that the look meant “Courage.” But it was just as likely it meant goodbye.
The trader tore away what was left of Dwayne’s swim trunks and tossed the filthy rags aside. The crowd pressed forward in interest. The trader touched Dwayne’s arms and chest with the end of his stick and made remarks that set the buyers laughing. He used the stick to lift the Ranger’s penis to assure the crowd that this particular piece of livestock was not gelded. Standing on tiptoes, to reach his mouth, the trader pried Dwayne’s lips apart and the crowd gasped in awe. The miracles of modern dentistry once again. A furor swept the crowd and the trader motioned for silence, then slapped the stick against Dwayne’s chest. The mob, which had doubled in size as the curious moved in from all sides to see what all the hubbub was about, shouted out a flurry of bids with the trader pacing back and forth to register them all with urgent thrusts of his stick.
It was over in moments, and Dwayne was led from the stage by a pair of thugs. From wher
e Caroline stood, she could not see who had won the auction for Dwayne. She now had only two fervent wishes in the world: that these next few moments go by quickly and that she be purchased by the same buyer who had purchased Dwayne. They were feeble, sad little hopes, but they were all she had to hang onto.
Caroline was cut from the line running to Praxus and drawn forward by Xin. The trader was into his rap and gesturing at Caroline with his stick to little audible interest from the crowd. She kept her eyes on the planks of the stage as she felt Xin’s hands tugging at her clothing. He had her naked in moments, and she fell to her knees under his rough attentions. The trader took her by the wrist and pulled her upright and the entire square hushed.
She kept her eyes cast down, and so could not see Xin’s expression of shock or the dismayed frown upon the trader’s face as the mob roared with sudden laughter. The trader pitched her as a boy slave but was now made a fool of by the slender female form on display before him.
Xin cursed bitterly, but the trader joined the crowd’s laughter and brayed in delight. He ran his stick along her flank and held her arm up to better display her breasts, which he squeezed painfully to the amusement of the mob. Caroline’s flesh reddened in deep humiliation, and that caused the trader to make another jest that she could not understand but which produced fresh guffaws all around. A few more minutes of ribald routine were followed by another display of astonishment at the results of years of orthodontics and regular cleanings. The bidding began.
Caroline forced her eyes upward in an effort to watch the bidding. She wanted to see who was buying her. She scanned for signs of Dwayne, but he wasn’t anywhere that she could see. Had he been purchased and taken away by his new owner already? Was Jimbo somewhere here as they theorized? Was a rescue in the works?
A sea of hands was waving below her in an obvious bidding war that the trader had to shout over to be heard. Faces of men stared up at her with hungry looks and mean, humorless leers—lookers not buyers. She raised her head to peer past them.