Chapter 3: Thesia

It had been a month since Macro's return to Tanitsar. The time had been filled with hard work as he had to organise the staff for his high office. That Jolia had agreed to be his legal adviser was a stroke of pure luck. That the Archers were still in the vicinity of Tanitsar was another. He had been able to recruit three dozen of those trusted men to form the nucleus of a new City Guard.

Of course, he could draw on the help of the Royal Guard, but he did not know them well enough yet. Recruiting them would seem like an affront to their commander and would make things more difficult for his brother Lamas. On the other hand, Macro's appointment to Vice-regent of Tanitsar had ruffled quite a few feathers among the nobility and he thought it wise not to wander the streets alone.

Thus, when he entered the slave market this early morning, eschewing even a breakfast, he was followed by his trusted Corporal Bordo and six men. They were all dressed in the black uniforms of the army. The market was clearly just awakening, and preparations were made for a busy day.

His first stop was for private business. The slave trader Elias had taken the captured pirates in commission. Elias was the son of the trader who had once presented young Javila as a gift to the new King Odar. According to Javila, the old man had been considerate to his human stock, had not molested the girls (or boys), and had refused to sell young girls to the brothels. His son followed that lead and was considered sympathetic to the reforms of slavery that had taken place over the last decade.

Most of the captured pirates, save for two crippled men, had found buyers. Macro arranged for the payment to be forwarded to Ronan who would see to the distribution among the officers and soldiers.

"I suppose I cannot interest you in one or two of our recent additions?" Elias asked, only half in earnest.

Just then, a terrible scream could be heard. It was a woman or girl, and it was a scream of pure terror. Signalling his men to follow, Macro strode away to where the scream had sounded. He was rounding a booth in quick strides when something barrelled into him at full speed.

He stumbled briefly under the impact, and he grabbed for the person instinctively. The person struggled desperately in his hold screaming in terror. Stunned, Macro realised that he was holding a young girl. Her upper body was naked and covered with cold sweat.

Then three men came around the corner. Two of them carried the staffs of slave handlers, but one man, more richly clothed than those bruisers, held a glowing branding iron in his hand. They came to a full stop when they saw the soldiers. Macro could smell burnt flesh in the fresh morning air. In a flash, the situation became clear. The girl was a slave to be sold today, and the trader wanted to brand her to save the money for the tattoo. Cold fury grabbed him and he turned to his entourage.

"Seize these men and secure the branding iron!" he rapped.

The two overseers brandished their staffs, but the soldiers drew their swords in return. The sight of the wicked long scimitars intimidated the slavers enough for them to drop their weapons. They were quickly bound.

The girl had ceased her futile struggle in Macro's hands and stared open-mouthed at her bound would-be tormentors. Would-be, because Macro's cursory visual inspection suggested that she had torn herself free before the iron could touch her. With a quick one-handed motion, Macro took off his short cloak and wrapped the bare-chested girl in it.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked her with a gentleness that belied the fury he still felt.

"Thesia, my Lord," she whispered hoarsely. She had obviously expended her voice with those terrified screams.

"Thesia, will you promise me not to run away? I shall not hurt you, by my honour."

She nodded, unable to speak.

"Fine. Keep close to me. Where is the holding pen whence you escaped? Can you guide us?"

Fear showed in her eyes, but she swallowed and nodded. Macro snapped his fingers and the bound men were roughly lifted to their feet. Their leader finally mustered enough courage to speak up.

"What is all this? What business do you have with this bitch? I'll complain with the Master of the Market, I will! Who the fuck are ... Ow!"

The last utterance came in the wake of a vicious backhanded slap which Bordo delivered with his heavily gloved right hand. The slaver's head snapped back with the force of the blow.

"Watch yore manners, scum!" Bordo growled. "'Tis the Vice-regent of Tanitsar you're talking to."

"Vice-regent, what vice-regent?" the man blubbered through torn lips.

"Corporal, send for some reinforcements, will you! And have my scribe come here as well!" Macro ordered. After all, he was in the centre of the slave market arresting a slave trader. Things might turn dicey.

"Thesia, show us the way and never fear."

The girl limped forward and Macro noticed bruises on her calves. Three of his men had been freed slaves before they joined the Archers and, noticing the bruises on the girl, shoved the captives forward none too gently.

The building was low, just one storey, and it was built like a jail. The front room was an office of sorts, and behind it there was another room that was lined with holding cells. A fire was burning and another branding iron was in the hot coals glowing bright red. The stench of burnt flesh still permeated the room making Macro and his men both nauseous and angry at the same time.

"There's one, freshly branded," one of the soldiers exclaimed, pointing at a young boy who writhed in agony in a narrow holding cell.

Macro considered. They were just seven, so he could not afford to send one of his men for a wound healer just now. On the other hand, the branded slave was the final piece of evidence. He turned to the slaver who was still bleeding from his mouth.

"The practice of branding was outlawed in Tanitsar. I find you in violation of the King's decrees. What do you have to say in your defence?"

"Who can afford tattoos for all of them?" the trader answered, still belligerently. "Nobody gives a shit – they're just slaves!"

"Nevertheless, you are breaking the law. It'll be the Cat for you, an even hundred lashes I fancy; and if we'll ever catch you at it again, it'll be the copper mines."

"You can't flog me! I'm a freeman and trader. My guild will stand up for me!"

"The guild is under the King's rule, and I'll see you dance under the Cat's claws."

Just then the synchronised step of two dozen boots could be heard and a moment later, Sergeant Emoran of the Archers stuck his head into the door.

"Ah, Sergeant! Bring these prisoners to the gaol. Also, have all slaves brought to the Vice-regent's Palace and secure them in the holding room. See to it that they receive bread and water, and have a wound healer look after burns and other injuries. And yes, secure those branding irons and close up the place after you leave. Bring everything of value too. This man's possessions are forfeit."

The sergeant grinned at the last words. This was just like their old commander to earn them gold within the first weeks in office.

Macro turned to the girl. "Thesia? Can you walk?"

The girl looked up studying his face for a second and then nodded. For the first time, he had a good look at her. Her hair, matted and tangled, looked like reddish brown. Under the dirt he could now see a pretty, heart shaped face. From the brief moment when he had held her in his arms, he knew that her body, in spite of her apparent youth and small size, was lacking nought in female attributes. He had to clear his throat.

"Ha-hm, fine. Follow me, then!"

Turning abruptly, he walked from the slave holding, the girl and his guardsmen following him. In less than fifteen minutes they reached his mother's house. Of course, Javila was out tending the King's affairs, but a number of household servants were present. He summoned his personal maids, Tamar and Ella.

Thesia gaped when the two slaves hugged the Vice-regent in greeting.

"We missed you this morning," Tamar purred.

"Yes, you can't just leave your business unfinished," Ella added, rubbing her sparsely clad upper body against his midsection.

"Another time, girls," Macro laughed good-naturedly. "We found this girl in the market. Her name is Thesia and she barely escaped a trader who tried to have her branded. She may be hurt however, and she is dirty for sure. You two make sure that she takes a bath and gets something to wear. If she is hurting, send for my mother!"

"Oh, the poor lamb!" Tamar gushed, her sympathy awakened instantly. "Branded? How barbaric! And you escaped? What a brave girl! Quick, Ella, have Ursula ready the bath! Come with me, Thesia! Nobody will hurt you here..."

The three young women were already disappearing towards the bath chambers, and Macro sighed with relief. He left the house and walked the short way to Magister Procopius' house. He found that worthy in his study and quickly relayed the morning's events to him.

The justice made a grim face. "We'll settle this quickly. Bring those men before me an hour after noon. I'll hear the evidence and their defence."

Satisfied that justice would be meted out quickly, Macro directed his steps to the Palace of the Vice-regent near the harbour.

The hot, soapy water was scented with pine needles, and it felt heavenly on Thesia's bruised limbs. Gods! How good it felt to be clean again! For four weeks, Thesia had been kept in holdings, with barely enough water for drinking. For those four weeks, she had sat and slept on wooden planks or stone floors, surrounded by her own refuse.

She had travelled to visit her uncle on one of the outer islands of the Hanilei archipelago when the small ship had been surprised by Southern pirates. Thesia was only a gold smith's daughter, and her father could not find the money to ransom her. The pirates therefore sold her to a wholesale slave trader.

Since she was a virgin, a fact that was ascertained repeatedly during her captivity, she was a valuable commodity and was spared the outright rape her fellow slaves suffered. This did not mean she was spared abuse; far from it! Her mouth and her anus were fair game for her captors, and although they had been mostly considerate enough to grease her anus with lard to avoid too much tearing, the pain and the feeling of violation had been horrible.

When she was landed the day before in the harbour of Tanitsar, she was in for another humiliation at the hands of the slave trader. While he choked her with his member deep in her throat, he told her with a leer how they would brand her, how she would squeal like a stuck pig when the iron would burn into her arm.

All night she had lain awake in fear, fretting over the horror to come. The boy in the neighbouring holding, Raneet, had been first, and his screams had driven her over the edge of her already fragile sanity. When her own holding cell was opened, she tore into the handler like a rabid fox, scratching, biting, and screaming like a person possessed. The handler was completely surprised by the ferocity with which the small girl attacked him, and he let go of her to protect his eyes and bollocks against her teeth and nails. Miraculously, there had been a clear path for the door, and she had run like never before in her young life until she crashed full tilt into her saviour.

With gratitude, she remembered how the Vice-regent had covered her with his own cloak. With grim satisfaction, she had seen how her tormentors were thrown to the ground, beaten and bound. Perhaps there was a chance for her now. With the Vice-regent's help she might end the nightmare she had been in. Perhaps she could return to Hanilei?

The reality crashed down on her, and her brief elation evaporated. She had been defiled beyond measure by her captors. What did it matter that her maidenhood was still intact? She'd had over a dozen filthy, stinking, squirting male members stuck into her mouth. They had used her backside in unspeakable ways. She was unclean; she could never be a bride. She was condemned to live the life of a spinster; pitied, but secretly scorned.

"How are you feeling now, little one?" Ella's voice broke through her misery.