Silk and Ashes
Copyright© 2026 by Komiko Yakamura
Chapter 4
The Mediterranean Sea, Three Days After Thessalonica
The child had been crying for hours. Not the desperate screams of the first days—those had faded to hoarse whimpers—but a constant, miserable sound that spoke of hunger and confusion and loss.
Claudia sat in the stifling cabin below deck, holding her, trying to offer honey bread that the child kept batting away with weak hands.
“Please, little one. Just try. It’s sweet. You’ll like it.”
The child turned her face away, crying, reaching for Claudia’s breast. The gesture was unmistakable—she wanted to nurse, wanted the comfort and nourishment she’d known since birth.
Claudia had been avoiding it. Telling herself the child needed to start weaning anyway, that solid food was better for the journey ahead, that—
The cabin door opened. Xiào Wèi descended the ladder, his face expressionless.
“She still hasn’t eaten?”
“She wants to nurse. But I’ve been trying to transition her to—”
“To use her as leverage.” His voice was flat, cutting. “You think if she won’t eat, I’ll negotiate with you. Give you concessions. Answer your questions. Tell you where we’re going.”
Claudia’s silence was answer enough.
“Stand up.”
“What?”
“Stand. Now.”
Claudia stood slowly, still holding the whimpering child, her heart beginning to race.
“You told me your milk dried up. That you couldn’t nurse her anymore. But wet nurses don’t dry up in four days.” He stepped closer. “So either you’re lying to make the child more difficult to manage, or you’re refusing to nurse her to gain power over me. Which is it?”
“I was trying to—”
“Bare your breast. Right now. In front of me.”
Claudia’s face went white. “That’s—I won’t—”
The blade appeared. Not at her throat this time. Pointed at the child.
“Bare your breast and prove you have no milk. Or I’ll assume you’re lying and using a starving child as a bargaining chip. And I will remove the problem.”
Claudia’s hands shook as she set the child down on the rough wooden bench. The girl immediately started wailing, reaching for her with desperate hands.
“Please—”
“Now.”
With trembling fingers, Claudia unlaced her dress and pulled the fabric aside, exposing her breast. Her face burned with shame.
“Squeeze it,” Xiào Wèi commanded.
“This is obscene—”
“Squeeze. It.”
Claudia placed her hand on her breast and squeezed, humiliation flooding through her.
A thin stream of milk beaded at her nipple, then dripped down.
The child saw it. Smelled it. She lunged forward with a desperate cry, hands reaching, mouth open.
Xiào Wèi’s expression didn’t change. “You have milk. You’ve been refusing to nurse her. Using her hunger as a weapon against me.”
“I was trying to wean her, to prepare her for—”
“You were trying to control me.” He sheathed the blade. “It won’t work. Pick her up. Feed her. Now.”
Claudia lifted the child with shaking hands. The moment the girl was close enough, she latched on desperately, suckling hard, her small hands clutching at Claudia’s dress, her whole body trembling with relief.
Xiào Wèi watched for a moment—making absolutely sure Claudia understood the lesson—then turned toward the ladder.
“Don’t try that again.”
He climbed up to the deck, leaving Claudia sitting on the bench, exposed breast still feeding the frantically nursing child, tears of shame streaming down her face.
She’d tried to use this baby as leverage. And he’d humiliated her utterly to prove she had no power here.
She would never try that again.
That Evening
Claudia had dressed, composed herself, and gotten the child to sleep when she heard footsteps on the ladder again. She tensed, but Xiào Wèi’s voice was quieter this time.
“May I come down?”
She blinked. He was asking permission. “ ... Yes.”
He descended and stood at the base of the ladder for a moment, then spoke in careful Latin.
“I was wrong. Earlier today.”
Claudia looked up, surprised.
“You were promised freedom in China. Freedom means respect. Dignity. I treated you like a prisoner, like an enemy. Like a slave.” He paused. “The child is our prisoner—she was taken, she has no choice. But you do. You chose to come. You were promised freedom. I need you to understand the difference.”
Claudia’s throat was tight. “Then why did you—”
“Because I thought you were sabotaging the mission. Using the child’s suffering as a weapon to gain leverage.” He met her eyes. “Was I wrong?”
Claudia looked down at the sleeping child curled against her side. “ ... No. You weren’t wrong.”
“Then we start over.” He sat down on the opposite bench. “You’re free to move about the ship. Go up on deck, get air, eat with the men. Ask questions—I’ll answer what I can. This cabin is just where the child sleeps because it’s safer below deck. But you’re not confined here. You’re not a prisoner.”
“Why the change?”
“Because I have three children of my own. Back in China.” His expression softened almost imperceptibly. “And I know that raising a child—especially one this young, this traumatized—requires trust. Partnership. You can’t do it under constant threat. You do it because you choose to, because you understand what needs to be done.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So. Ask. Whatever you want to know.”
Claudia hesitated, then: “Where exactly are we going?”
“Luoyang. The capital of the Jin Empire. To the court of Prince Sima Yong, who currently controls the Emperor.”
“Why does he want her?”
“Imperial blood from the West. From Rome. The daughter of Galerius Caesar—it’s symbolic. Proof of his reach, his power, his legitimacy. She’ll be raised Chinese, educated in our ways, our language. Eventually she’ll be married to strengthen alliances between our peoples.”
“And what happens to me?”
“You’ll be a free woman in the household. Not a slave—free. You’ll continue caring for her as she grows. You’ll be compensated, given your own quarters, your own life. You’re valuable to us because she trusts you. That trust is worth more than gold.”
“Can I refuse? When we get there?”
Xiào Wèi didn’t lie to her. “You can try. But you’ll be a Roman woman alone in China, thousands of miles from home, with no resources and no way back. Staying with her is your best option—your safest option. But within the household, you’ll be free. Not property. Do you understand the difference?”
Claudia nodded slowly.
“One more thing.” His voice was firm. “The child needs to nurse. She’s eighteen months old—far too young to wean, especially under these conditions. She’ll continue nursing for at least another year, maybe more. When she’s ready to wean—when she’s old enough, when her body is ready—we’ll do it together. Properly. Gradually. But not now. Not because you’re trying to gain leverage. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Good.” He stood. “Tomorrow, come up on deck. Wei Shu will watch her if she’s sleeping. Get some air. You’ll go mad if you stay down here the whole voyage.”
He climbed back up the ladder.
Claudia sat in the dim cabin, listening to the child’s soft breathing, and felt something shift inside her.
She was still trapped—trapped by geography, by circumstance, by the fact that freedom in China was the only freedom available to her now.
But she wasn’t a slave. She wasn’t a prisoner.
She was a partner in this strange, terrible journey.
And maybe that was enough.
Two Weeks Later – Persian Gulf
The ship made port in a city Claudia didn’t recognize—somewhere in Persian territory, where the buildings were all wrong and the air smelled of spices that made her eyes water.
She stood on deck holding the child, who’d grown more comfortable with the rocking of the ship, more willing to eat the honey bread and soft cheese Claudia offered between nursing sessions.
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