Chapter 3

Antal entered his house just before the noon meal with a scowl and was followed by his two new slaves. Apprehensively, Ilona met them at the door wondering if something had gone wrong. Regardless of her son's disposition she rushed over to hug her friend.

"Barbala! You're here!" she cried.

"Thanks to Master Antal," Barbala sighed into Ilona's shoulder.

"Did everything go well, Master?" Ilona asked looking over at her son.

"Easy enough," Antal answered with an exasperated snort. "As you said the slavemaster was most anxious to be rid of these two. He didn't even pretend to drive a hard bargain. I think if I'd held out for a while longer he would have paid me to take them. The registration fees and taxes cost more than they did."

"You won't be sorry, Master," Barbala said releasing Ilona and walking over to kneel at his feet. "You have saved my daughter and me and we won't forget it. We are yours to do with as you please. I promise we will be the best slaves a man could have."

"I'm already sorry," he grumped. "That one," he said stabbing a finger towards Catalyn, "can't shut up! I swear if she bitches about one more thing, I'm going to choke her!"

"You wouldn't dare!" the object of his displeasure shouted. "Mother, tell him! This has been a terrible mistake and as soon as they realize it we'll be back where we belong!"

"Cat, dear," Barbala soothed. "You must be quiet now. We belong to Master Antal now and we must serve him as best we can. I know you don't understand all of this but it is the way it will be and we must accept it. You just don't understand how bad it could have been if he hadn't graciously agreed to buy us."

"Oh, they wouldn't have really done that to us," Catalyn said flippantly. "I know that horrible man said he would sell us as prostitutes but that was just to scare us. I am far too beautiful," she said running her fingers through her long coal black hair. It was dank, dirty and full of tangles now but Antal could just see the little wench sitting in front of a mirror primping. "Besides," she continued, "Father had many suitors begging for my hand. One of them will come to rescue me once they hear what injustice has been done and I will make sure they rescue you at the same time, Mother."

As irritated as he had been with the little vixen who had begun complaining the very second the gag had been removed from her mouth, he began laughing uncontrollably to the extent he had to stagger to a chair and sit down before he fell down. He just sat there chuckling at her seemingly unlimited ability to deny the basic truth of her situation.

"Stop laughing at me!" she shouted stamping her foot causing the pert young breast to jiggle under her shapeless slave's tunic. "Mother, stop him from laughing at me!"

"Hush, Catalyn, please" Barbala twittered ineffectually as she wrung her hands in front of her. "Please, Sir, she is just young..."

"That's enough, Barbala," Antal said mildly waving her to silence. He leaned back and rubbed his chin as if thinking. "Hmm, maybe everybody has been looking at you from the wrong direction, Catalyn. Instead of looking at you as an everyday household slave or bedmate maybe they should have been looking at you as something more like, oh ... say ... a court jester. Certainly this must be an act; nobody could be so completely in denial of her circumstances. To be sure, this is funny but I can see this act will get tiresome if used over much.

"Enough of this," he said suddenly standing before she could respond. "I have purchased the two of you as a favor to Ilona, Barbala, because of the friendship the two of you have shared. I have no need for any other servants or women for that matter but here you are. But I want it made perfectly clear I do not intend to have myself disturbed by this. I'll get rid of one or both of you if that happens.

"My rules are simple: You will do what you are told when you are told. You may complain all you want; just make sure I don't hear it. Ilona is the mistress of this house and you will do what she tells you as if I were the one giving you the order. Now come with me." Catalyn was still fuming but she at least remained quiet as he led them back into the house.

Before Antal had bought it, the house belonged to a reasonably prosperous woodworker. It had the one main living/dining area; a kitchen and three rooms in the rear. One was a bedroom he shared with Ilona. Another was slightly smaller in size and presently empty while the third was half again as large and had been used by the previous owner as a storeroom/workshop. The woodworker hadn't used this as his principal work area or shop having one of those somewhere in the trade area of Eregli proper. But there were still some remnants of his woodworking trade still there that the bachelor Antal had never bothered removing.

"You two can have either one of these rooms," he said as they stopped in the hallway. "Or both; I don't care. One of your first duties will be to buy your bedding and some appropriate clothing; Ilona will help you with that.

"Now you," he said pointedly to Catalyn. "I'm not one who enjoys beating anyone." He bent down a picked up a thumb-thick dowel from the floor and swished it around in the air. "If I wanted to I could beat you bloody with this." Catalyn's eyes grew round and she began to quiver. "And to tell the truth it would probably serve you well if I did. Maybe it would beat the stupidity out of you. But I don't need this." he said taking the dowel in both hands and broke it cleanly in half as easily as Ilona might have broken a loaf of bread and tossed the two pieces to the floor. "If I need to, I can do it myself. Do I make myself clear?"

All three women gasped and stared at the pieces of wood on the floor. A body's length of that dowel would have easily supported the weight of a grown man and Antal had broken it seemingly without effort. As one, they looked back up at him and nodded. Antal snorted; he was pretty sure no matter how cowed the little bitch seemed right now it wouldn't be long before something more would be needed.

"I'm going down to look to my boats," he said plucking from his belt a small bag that clinked as he tossed it to Ilona. "You can take care of their needs once you've made me something to take with me."

He returned home a little before the evening meal to find it ready and the house in order. All three women met him at the door, two with smiles and the third with slitted eyes and pursed lips but ― gratefully ― at least with silence. Well, he thought, raising an eyebrow, maybe they talked some sense into the little twit.

He sat at the head of the table in his accustomed seat while Ilona finished preparing the meal and Barbala served him. He noted Barbala and Catalyn were no longer in slave tunics but nice quality, if plain, house shifts of the kind Ilona generally wore. The neckline of Barbala's shift plunged down between her breasts exposing the tops as she walked and a great deal more when she bent over to load his plate.

He unabashedly admired the proffered view of her large and seemingly still very firm bounty while she seemed to be in no hurry to hide them, remaining bent over far longer than one would think was reasonably necessary for the task. In fact, when his eyes did finally glance up at her face her eyes stared right back at his and she smiled. She giggled a little as he lightly swatted her bottom as she walked away. Barbala, at least, didn't seem to be having any problems with her new circumstance although Catalyn stared daggers at him from her place near the foot of the table. He just ignored her.

Ilona finished the rest of the meal and brought it in to set on the table before taking her accustomed seat next to him.

Barbala stood next to Catalyn nervously. "Cat," she whispered but it was loud enough for everybody to hear her. "Come on, honey. We must leave the master to eat his meal in peace."

"No need for that," Antal said waving a knife towards the chair next to him on the other side from Ilona. "Only one table. Sit down. Eat."

"We never had the servants eat with us," Barbala explained as she tentatively sat next to him. "Ferenc would never have allowed it."

"Well I'm not Ferenc and I've never had servants before," he said taking a large bite of meat. "At least none that would serve me. I always had to eat with them in the kitchen, so I guess that's what I'm used to." He noticed Catalyn picking at her food. "Not to your liking?" he enquired mildly.

"Oh, no," Barbala said quickly although Catalyn remained silent. "Ilona is a wonderful cook. I wish I could do half so well. I'm afraid my days in the kitchen are far in the past, back when I still lived with my parents."

"Well, you'll learn," he said without rancor. "Ignorance can be cured; stupid can't and I'm sure you aren't stupid." It was perfectly clear to at least two of the females at the table that his words held more than one meaning. "Anybody can learn anything once they've set their mind to it."

"Oh, we will! I can assure you of that," Barbala responded quickly.

"I'm sure you will," he agreed.

Dinner passed quickly and while Ilona and Barbala instructed a reluctant Catalyn on her duties as scullery maid, Antal sat in his favorite chair under lamplight and read recent postings of tax and duty rates along with bids for specific goods being requested by local merchants and factors on handbills hand-printed by slave scribes on the stiff paper made in the south from the same hemp plant used to make rope. Every once in a while he would dip his stylus in the ink pot and make a note alongside something or other. Unlike most of his contemporaries who tried to smuggle what they thought were the highest-priced goods, Antal studied the prevailing market in Eregli and its surrounding towns looking for what would give him the highest return on each trip, not just the highest price.

Sometimes wool might seem like a good investment because it was bringing the highest price on the docks but he also knew its price was high at the port of origin, making the total return less. At times like that it might be better to smuggle in the sheep themselves instead of just their wool if for no other reason than they could be sold for their meat which was always in demand. Most of his fellow smugglers would turn up their noses at such a smelly cargo but one of the reasons Antal was so successful, i.e. profitable, was that he didn't care one whit what he smuggled; he just cared about how much he got for it.

Soon everything was cleaned and put away and it was time for bed. Antal and Ilona retired to their room with the master of the house looking forward to playing with his favorite slave again. Just as they had snuggled down under the covering blanket he heard a soft rapping at the door.