LEANORE 06
By Heck



Comments to heck@beadyeye,net

CHAPTER SIX

ALMOST A WEEK in the stockade, and at last she was getting used to the smell.

Being fettered to the bars, though, was something to which she would never
become accustomed. Having her arms chained and roped at right angles to her
body, being spoon-fed cold gruel that ran down her chin and across her chest,
having to urinate and defaecate where she stood, and suffering the constant
taunts Lexis yelled across the space to her, was as degrading and humiliating
an ordeal as she could imagine. How she retained her sanity was a testament to
her strength of character as well as body.

On the sixth day there was much activity among the soldiers outside the
stockade. By craning her head to the left, she could just make out that the
tents were being struck and packed away on carts, and she wondered what was
going on. Her fellow captives milled about, curious and, at the same time,
fearful.

A cart was backed up to the gates of the cage. It was completely enclosed,
constructed of sturdy timbers with holes drilled in them, and ran on thick,
solid, tall wooden wheels. The back let down to form a steep ramp.

A squad of legionnaires flung the gates open, and began packing people into
the vehicle. At least twenty people, naked and shackled, of mixed sexes and
ages, all weakened from lack of proper nutrition and many with running sores,
were shoehorned into the cramped space. They wept in their fear, and some
struggled ineffectually with their captors, but to no avail. These were the
rank and file, those of limited value, whose fate was of little consequence to
the Empire. They had been fed just enough to keep them alive, and were crammed
into the cart with less concern for their welfare than would have been shown
to sheep.

Two more carts were similarly filled.

Those left in the stockade were the more valuable stock, the strong and
handsome, that had been fed better rations and had been taken outside for
short periods daily for limited exercise. The ones that Leanore had begun to
think of, not without irony, as the 'elite'.

Another cart, similar to the first, was positioned before the gates. About
half of them were herded into it, among them, Leanore noticed, Lexis, who was
dragged kicking and fighting from the stockade and flung into the cart. Each
person was sponged down to remove the worst of the dirt, and liberally
sprinkled with sulphur powder to kill parasites.

Finally, a fifth cart was made ready. Five soldiers, one with a javelin held
at port, approached Leanore. The spear was held to her throat, while the
others unfastened her from the bars, making sure to hang on tightly to her
brawny arms.

She had been tied in that cruciform position for six days, unable to move her
arms more than an inch or so. The pain had grown over the first several hours,
and had been constant but bearable after that. Now, though, when her limbs
were untied, excruciating agony lanced through her arms and shoulders. Her
cramped muscles screamed in protest, causing her to suck her breath through
her teeth as the pain, exacerbated by the pressure of the soldiers' hands,
threatened to overwhelm her.

The men were far from gentle, and pulled her roughly by the arms. Leanore
gritted her teeth against the pain and dug in her heels, effectively
restraining the four men. Annoyance showed in their faces, and one of them
raised a hand to strike her.

"Legionnaire!" An authoritative voice halted the man where he stood. "No
damage to that one. She's worth more than a year of your wages".

Fallus Maximus strode forward, weaving through the other slaves that were
being manhandled out of the cage. He stood in front of Leanore, being careful
to keep out of reach, tapping a leather riding crop against his leg and
looking her up and down. A leering grin played about his lips.

Leanore had been listening carefully to the conversations of the soldiers, and
had already picked up one or two words and phrases. She recognised
'legionnaire' and 'damage', but the rest of the centurion's words were
meaningless. She managed to imply from his tone, though, that she was not to
be injured. As if the pain and humiliation of the last few days had not been
injurious.

She lifted her head high and stared him full in the eye. Her arms were
shouting their pain at her, and she felt stiff and, by her standards, weak.
Regardless, her arm muscles tightened and slowly, unstoppably, she forced her
arms out of the grasp of the four men. They scrabbled to keep hold, and one
reached for the short sword that hung at his belt while the javelin man
pressed his weapon against the tender skin of her throat.

She made no move to attack, but kept her unblinking eyes fixed on those of the
centurion, putting into her stare all the pride and contempt she could muster.
He met her gaze with an amused smile that hid the fact that her was very
impressed and a little afraid, and held up a hand. He said something to them,
and they took one pace back. The javelin stayed at her throat.

Slowly, so as not to provoke, Leanore raised her arms and stretched, clenching
her teeth against the pain, knowing that movement would get the blood flowing
and restore normal sensation. She flexed her biceps, paying no heed to the
awe-struck expressions on the men's faces, rotated her shoulders, and arched
her back before completing a few deep knee bends. She shook out her limbs, the
fabulous musculature moving smoothly and freely once more, and then just stood
relaxed, totally ignoring the soldiers with her eyes still fixed on those of
the officer.

Fallus Maximus returned her gaze coolly. He had to remain detached, in front
of his men.

But inside, his heart was pounding with mixed emotions - admiration, lust, and
just a hint of fear. Paramount among these was lust, and he knew in the depth
of his soul that he just had to have this splendid woman. Had to have her
before they returned to the Empire and his chance would be lost.

More than any other female he had encountered in his entire life, he had to
have her.

Even more than that, though, he knew that when he did have her, it would be
with a blade at her throat.

Leanore read much of this in his expression, and curled her lip in a
contemptuous sneer. Her eyes never wavered as she raised her hands and offered
them for the shackles. The chains on her ankles were still in place, and she
stood erect and proud as they chained her wrists, no trace in her face of the
effort it cost her.

A soldier laid a hand on her arm, to lead her to the cart. Disdainfully, she
shrugged him off and took half a pace forward, her eyes demanding that she be
allowed her dignity.

Maximus gave a short laugh and moved to one side, waving her on with a gesture
of mock gentility. The men laughed too, but Leanore walked past them with
aloof dignity and stood passively while she was sponged and powdered. She
climbed into the cart, leaving them feeling slightly ridiculous.

The floor of the cart was slatted. Leanore could only imagine why.

"You can act the queen now", Maximus told her as her fellows made room for
her. "But you're mine for now. Just a matter of time before you're broken in
and I'll be the master. Then we'll see what your arrogance does for you"

Leanore gleaned the general meaning of his words, and glared at him as the
ramp was lifted. The unsettling intensity of her stare, the unspoken threat in
her eyes, unnerved him and he looked away as the ramp closed.

*

There were eleven of them in the cart. Not packed in as tightly as the poor
unfortunates in the first vehicles, but tight enough so that she was never out
of physical contact with some part of some person. There was insufficient
headroom for her to stand upright, and she could not get an eye to the small
airholes, so it was impossible for her to gain any idea of where they were
going.

The air was foetid with the stench of stale urine and faeces that had failed
to drain through the slats. It was as dark as night inside the cart, but
during the days the shafts of intense sunlight that streamed through the
airholes were hot enough to cause blisters if one sat still. At night it was
bitterly cold, and the naked passengers huddled together for warmth.

Twice a day, they were let out of the carts just long enough to be fed. The
gruel was nourishing but bland and tasteless. Leanore had to force herself to
eat to survive, but the experience was far from pleasant and made even less so
by the screamed taunts that came from Lexis whenever the two were within sight
of each other.

At every stop, and several times a day while travelling, Leanore took the
opportunity to test herself against the shackles. Had she been shackled in the
same way as everyone else, she might have succeeded. But on the orders of
Fallus Maximus, she continued to be double-shackled, and while close
examination would have revealed that several links had become stretched and
distorted under her efforts, the chains remained unbreakable.

And at nearly every stop, the stiff carcase of one or more of the less
valuable slaves was dragged from a cart, having succumbed to the heat,
overcrowding, and disease that was gaining a foothold among these people. The
body would be dragged a little way from the trail, and left for disposal via
hyena and vulture.

Every time, Leanore was reminded of the fate that befell the remains of
Tanley, and had to bite down to suppress the gorge that rose in her throat.

Leanore knew she had to remain as healthy and fit as possible in order to
survive. So she ate everything and, despite the cramped conditions within the
cart, managed to exercise a little to maintain some of her strength. She
accomplished this by pitting her own terrific muscles against each other,
pressing her hands together or against the sides of the cart, locking her
ankles and pulling them in opposite directions, or lifting her straight legs
from the floor and holding.

The regime was not sufficient to keep her in her usual extraordinary
condition, but it helped and she did not become weakened as much as the
others. Comparatively speaking, she continued to be a very strong and muscular
woman.

Over many days of travel the captives became disoriented and lost all track of
time. The endless rumble and lurching of the carts was a constant
accompaniment to the journey and, while some tried to make desultory
conversation from time to time, the only other noise inside the carts was the
gentle weeping of frightened women and some men. Outside, the steady tramp of
the feet of several hundred infantry soldiers and the occasional yelled orders
were the only external sounds that reached their ears.

Eventually, on an afternoon, very gradually at first, other sounds became
apparent. Raised voices, bawling of domestic animals, and the general hubbub
of a busy town impinged upon their consciousness. Leanore made another failed
attempt to see through one of the airholes, but she was able to detect the
smells of unfamiliar spices and the acrid odour of massed humanity.

Finally, the carts trundled to halt. Leanore listened carefully to try to
gather some information of what was going on, but the noises were overlaid and
confusing.

After what seemed like an age, the ramp at the rear of the cart was let down
and Leanore and her companions were unloaded. Down an alleyway formed of twin
ranks of armed soldiers, they were marched in single file into another
stockade similar to that in which they had been held by the riverbank, but
much, much bigger. Leanore looked round at the faces of literally scores of
captives like herself, all shackled, but all in comparatively good condition.
All, she reckoned, 'elite', and she wondered what had happened to the rest.

Lexis was in the same stockade, and Leanore could see her pacing up and down
like a tigress, lip curled in a psychotic snarl of hatred. The two women were
not fettered to the walls, this time, but there were able guards, armed with
crossbows, patrolling the perimeter to discourage any trouble.

Leanore walked over to the fence, her stride limited by her shackles, and
looked out on her new surroundings.

They were on a wharf, adjacent to a rolling river so wide she could hardly see
the further bank. Arranged along the dock were several other stockades, all
filled with slaves, and tethered at the wharf were three huge, tall-masted
ships.

Lots of people were busy on the dockside. Strange people, lighter of skin than
Leanore herself, but darker than her captors. Most wore linen loincloths and
headgear that formed a sun shade over the backs of their necks, while their
kohl-eyed women carried water jugs or groceries and moved with extraordinary
elegance.

The buildings that lined the quay were marvellously constructed, mostly from
great blocks of sandstone cut with such masonic skill that they fitted
together perfectly without the need for mortar. Around doors and windows the
stone architraves and mullions were carved with intricate hieroglyphs and
cartouches that, had she been able to read them, would have told Leanore what
business was carried on in each, and the name of the merchant of artisan that
owned it.

Here and there, tall obelisks covered with the same kind of writing, and
wonderfully carved statuary depicting people and animals, stood in seemingly
random positions.

All around her, eyes were wide and staring and mouths were hanging open as,
despite themselves, the captives looked with awe and wonder at the strange new
world they were in. None had seen buildings of this type before, nor so many
people all in one place, and although she tried to hide it, Leanore was just
as overawed as any of them.

Yet for all the cunning skill and artifice that had gone into the
architecture, there was a feeling of age about the docks, a suggestion of wear
and threadbare raggedness, hinting at the past splendour of a once- mighty
civilisation in decline. A civilisation under thrall to one even greater.

They had only one day in the big stockade. One day, during which Leanore
listened carefully to the unguarded conversations of the legionnaires and
gathered much information. The big floating things along the dock, she
learned, were called 'ships'. She and her fellows were variously called
'slaves', 'stock', or 'captives', and their captors were called 'soldiers'.
She also picked up one or two pronouns, but little else.

The following morning they were fed early, and the soldiers seemed to want
them to hurry. No sooner had they finished than the wooden spoons and bowls
were wrenched from their hands and they were separated according to sex and
made to form lines.

Leanore found herself standing next to a frail, middle-aged woman, whose
paper-thin skin seemed to hang from her malnourished frame like sacking. She
was unsteady on her feet, and her dead eyes held the look of the lost.
Silently, Leanore positioned her forearm under the woman's armpit, gently
supporting her, taking much of her slight weight on her arm.

She heard a 'tut' noise, and she glanced down the line. Several places away,
Lexis glared at her with utter contempt for her humane act. Leanore returned
the look with one of disdain and pointedly turned away, showing the other
woman that her opinion was unworthy of notice.

The legionnaires all came abruptly to attention. Fallus Maximus, several other
centurions, and the one she had heard called 'general' entered the stockade
and began to walk up and down the lines. They carefully scrutinised each
captive in turn, occasionally touching one on the shoulder. Those selected
were, Leanore noticed, the biggest and fittest, and were led away by armed
men.

They did not seem to be in any hurry, and took their time, examining each
person in great detail before making a decision. So she felt like she had been
standing in line for hours when her turn came.

The general stood in front of her, looking her up and down, admiration hiding
behind his professional expression. His junior officers stood in a bunch
behind him, but he summoned Maximus to his side. They spoke, the general
saying something and the centurion nodding in agreement. Leanore decided to
try some of her newly learned words.

"You", she said haltingly. "You.man? You." Her vocabulary failed her. She
touched herself on the head. "Man?"

The general smiled, nudging Maximus in the ribs. She understood very little of
what he said, but it was obvious that he approved, and from the way the
centurion replied she could see that he approved also. She listened hard, but
only gathered a very little of what they were saying. The general allowed
himself a little grin of indulgence, smiling into her face for the first time.

"Well", he said. "Been learning how to speak, eh? A brain as well as beauty.
That's a pleasant surprise". He turned to Maximus. "This is our best find,
Fallus. I might buy her myself, when I get home. Eh?" Maximus laughed as if
the general had made a great joke. Leanore could tell he was laughing only to
ingratiate himself, and curled her lip at him.

"Well, you're a fine looking specimen, and no mistake", the general said to
Leanore. "I hope you're as strong as you look?" She looked at him
uncomprehendingly. He bent an arm and pointed to his own biceps. "You are
strong?"

Understanding dawned on her.

"Yes", she said. "I strong. You." She touched her head again. "Man?"

It was the general's turn to look confused. He was a fine tactician and
possessed a keen military brain, but his intellect was limited to his field of
expertise. He was not as quick on the uptake as Leanore, and looked at Maximus
with a shrug.

"I think she's asking if you're the head man, sir"

"Touching her head. Head. Man. Yes, that must be it. Headman. Gods, she's
bright, isn't she?"

"Head man". Leanore said.

"Yes. Yes, that's right. I am. I'm the headman".

"I go. You say.I go?" The general laughed again, and Leanore wondered what she
had said that was so funny.

"Yes, I say, you go, all right. But not where you want, I think. Eh? You're
too valuable to waste. You'll go to the arena".

"Arena? What is arena?"

"The arena? The arena is.well, it's.it's a big." He made expansive circling
motions with his hands. "It's a place where.oh, what the hell am I doing
trying to explain to you?" The general seemed to be frustrated by Leanore's
inability to understand, but in reality was foiled by his own inability to
explain. "You'll find out, soon enough".

He made a gesture, and four guards laid hold of Leanore's arms. She held up a
hand in a 'wait' gesture, and indicated the woman at her side.

"She". Leanore made feeding movements. "She.die".

The officers understood. Leanore was asking for help for the sickly woman that
leant on her arm, but it meant nothing to them. Four men tried to drag Leanore
away, but she planted her feet squarely and flung her arms wide.

Four men sprawled across the stone floor, tumbling over one another in their
embarrassment.

Maximus stepped protectively in front of his general and his hand went to his
sword, but Leanore simply stood with hands on hips, staring at him. The
general, real anger showing on his face now, but careful to keep Maximus
between him and the woman, shook a fist at her.

"I could have you killed for that!" he roared. "Killed! You understand?"

"Killed?" Leanore sounded as if she was making a polite enquiry.

"Yes! Killed!" He made slashing movements across his throat. "Kill! You know,
kill?!"

"Ah, kill". Leanore nodded with understanding, looking from the general to
Maximus with cold eyes. "Soon, I kill".

"Soon, you die, you mean!" The general completely missed her point. Maximus
leaned back and whispered in his ear. The senior officer nodded his head
resignedly.

"You're lucky", he told her. "Centurion Maximus has reminded me of your
monetary value. So you live, this time. Take her away".

Leanore felt the prick of a sharp blade in the small of her back as the four
men reattached themselves to her arms. She gave the poorly woman a look of
sympathy, and received one of gratitude in return, as she allowed herself to
be led away.