A story of a young woman, sold into slavery, swept along by fickle fate. Many thanks to Thessala for agreeing to be my muse for this story. Thessela, this is for you. I hope I do it justice. 
Thessela's Downfall
Part 1: Sold into Slavery:
It was a pleasant warm day in Corinth. Four men and three women, were chained together with slave collars around their necks, led by a large slave trader. He was a fat jolly Phoenician who smiled as he walked through the city, holding the lead of the chain to which his 7 slaves were attached. He was picky about his “merchandise” and his slaves were well trained and well treated. He prided himself that a customer could usually get a slave without whip marks or other blemishes if they bought from him. Those who bought girls for their houses, either as caretakers for the children or for more personal reasons appreciated little details like that. His clients were among the more discerning, meaning rich. His slaves fetched good prices, and he had a reputation that kept his prices high.
The Phoenician and his two assistants bantered jovially to the slaves as they moved through the market. “Good city, Corinth,” he said. “Lots of decent people. You’ll all get good owners, I’m sure.” He smiled at the seven slaves, his eyes moving down the row, pausing only when he came to the end of the line. A slim, dark haired girl with big eyes. She looked a bit frightened, he thought. Well, she was new to this. The others had been through the markets before. This last girl, she seemed young enough, likely in her twenties, had been born free. Romans had conquered her country, or her parents had fallen on hard times, or something else had happened. Lots of ways to fall into slavery in the provinces. She didn’t talk much. She seemed shy.
Never mind, he thought. She’s pretty, clear skinned, with nice pert round breasts and a good figure. She’ll fetch a decent price as a maid or personal slave. He had anticipated that eventuality. He still got aroused thinking how she had blushed when he had first examined her. She had trembled and stared at the floor as he had looked her over appreciatively. Lucky he was good at keeping his rod under his tunic when necessary, he thought. Don't get involved with the merchandise.
The girl was named Thessela. Until age 15, she had lived with her parents in a village some miles south of Rome. They had not been rich, but they were freemen. Her father had been a farmer. It was not a large farm but there was a pleasant house, a garden and always enough to eat. Then there was the plague, a horrible fever that killed her father, mother, her older sister, and younger brother. She was suddenly alone. The only relative was her uncle, her father’s hated brother, who inherited the farm, and her. He had wanted the land. For a number of years he treated her as a slave, making her keep house for him in the home she had shared once with her family. She had nowhere else to go, so she stayed.
Then one day her uncle had been uncharacteristically jovial and said he had a special surprise for her. He would take her to the market. He waited while she dressed in her cleanest dress. Then he took her arm and they walked down the road to the market in the village, a few miles from the farm. He had bought her a fresh plum, purple fat and ripe, and she had smiled at him for the first time in months as she thanked him for it. It felt nice to be treated well.
Of course, it was too good to be true. Her uncle steered her toward the far end of the market square and they arrived at a warehouse building with a porch. That was where she first saw the jolly fat Phoenician. Her uncle, her own flesh and blood, started telling a story of his hardship, and how he had kept her after the death of her family, but could not afford to do so anymore. Thessela realized he was talking about her. She felt her world crumble around her, as her uncle said that, sad as it was for him to consider it, he was forced to desperate solutions to save his own family. The Phoenician listened and then asked about her past life.
"She's a good, decent, obedient girl," said her uncle, and went on to describe how she worked hard, and didn't go out much. That seemed to please the Phoenician and he added a few coins to a purse he was holding. "She'll make a fine house or body slave," said her uncle.
Thessela was mortified. She couldn’t speak. She was vaguely aware of her uncle and the Phoenician discussing her and what price she would fetch. She wanted to scream, but she felt frozen, overwhelmed by how quickly her formerly secure life had disappeared. She wondered if it was possible to go back in time, even a half hour to where she had a plum, and just stop there. She looked up, and the Phoenician was passing a purse of money to her uncle.
“There,” her uncle said. “You’re a slave now, girl. You belong to this man. Be good.” And he turned to leave.
“No,” she almost whispered. “Why are you doing this. I want to go home. Don’t do this please.”
But her uncle, looking slightly uncomfortable, just turned and walked away, leaving Thessela standing with tears running down her cheeks.
“There, there,” said the Phoenician, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “Let’s not cry. You’ll spoil your looks for the show. It’s not so bad. Come with me. We need to see what you’re all about anyway. Then you can have some food, and we’ll see about finding you a master.” He led the crying girl into the building.
That had been a few weeks ago. There had been a sea voyage where she had been sick. She had found her sea legs after a day or two and had then spent part of the voyage helping “keep house” for the Phoenician. He seemed genuinely fond of her, and keeping his small cabin cleaned was no big problem. She began to think she might almost get used to life as a slave. She knew many slaves had lives worse than this, but also knew her current situation was only temporary.
“I will be sorry to sell you,” he said, “but unfortunately I do not really need a young slave girl, and I can not afford too many indulgences. I will be sad to see you go."
Thessela felt a thrill of apprehension at the prospect of having her pleasant duties on the ship end, and the unknown future of enslavement to a new master in a strange new place. It must have shown on her face, because the Phoenician said: "Cheer up, girl! We still have a few days before the big market. ”
That brought it to today in Corinth, with seven slaves newly off the trading ship, chained together, walking from the wharf to market in the early morning air.
Corinth was a rich city, a centre of religion and learning. There were libraries and temples, pleasant looking well constructed houses. There lots of ships in the port and merchants were everywhere, with slaves carrying all manner of goods from across the Empire. There were also quite a few slave traders coming to the Corinthian slave market. The Phoenician was going to sell only his best slaves here, he said. Top wares for top price. That was the seven of them, Thessela thought as she walked at the end of the row, chained to the man in front of her. He was a muscular athletic type, blonde haired. She guessed he was from some northern province. She had heard of Gaul. Perhaps he was from there. He like the other three male slaves was dressed in leather shorts that did not hide the contours of his buttocks or the bulge at the front. She blushed as she realized where she was staring. The other male slaves were similarly muscular and attractive, all fitting the dark haired, olive skinned Mediterranean profile.
She found the chain and slave collar chafing. The Phoenician had attached it almost apologetically. Customs, he said. Had to follow protocols. At least the Phoenician's slaves were clothed. She had seen some Nubian slave women being moved to market wearing only loincloths. She and the other two slave girls were dressed in simple fresh knee length white dresses. Of the two other women, one might have been her age or perhaps older. She looked like walking to market did not bother her at all. The other was a girl hardly out of her teens. She was trying to look brave, but kept looking around wide-eyed.
"She looks like I feel," thought Thessela. "Afraid and nervous." That was part of it. She had never been sold in a market. It felt like her future was completely uncertain, but that opportunities were also possible. To keep her mind off her nervousness, she tried taking an interest in the city around her.
They moved at a reasonable but leisurely pace. Corinth was a clean, well constructed city. There were a lot of impressive Roman buildings. She was surprised to see that, especially the ornate temples, this far from what she had thought was the centre of the Empire. Then she felt silly. She had never been to Rome either, even though she had been born within a day’s chariot ride of the greatest city on earth. Still, she appreciated the apparent opulence of the city.
Finally the cobbled streets opened out into a large square or forum. At the north end of the square was the obligatory temple, with its massive columns, built in the Greek style. At the south end was the street from which they had just arrived. The west side of the square was already filling up with farm vendors, fishmongers, and other small food sellers. The east side of the square was ranged with colourful tent pavilions, each of which had a platform erected in front of it. This was the weekly Corinthian slave market.
The Phoenician and his two assistants directed their 7 slaves toward a larger red and yellow pavilion. This was their stall for the day. Thessela wondered how long it took to sell seven people. She was suddenly anxious again at the thought of being sold. How is it done? Do they just like what they see and pay? Do you have to say anything. What do you say to someone trying to buy you?
"Okay, here we are," said the Phoenician cheerfully. "Up you get." And the assistants directed the seven slaves onto the platform in front of the pavilion. "Give them something to eat, and let them relax for a few minutes," said the Phoenician. "We've got a little time before the slave market officially opens. I need to see someone. I'll be back shortly." And he disappeared into the pavilion.
The assistants unchained the seven slaves and let them relax on the platform. One of them brought out some food and some water. Thessela sat on the floor of the platform with the other slaves and ate a hunk of bread with cheese and some grapes. The three dark haired men and one of the women seemed happy just to sit quietly, but the blonde man wanted to chat.
"Have you ever been to market before," the big blonde slave was asking the youngest slave girl.
"No, never," said the girl. "Will it be okay?"
"It is never okay to sell people," said the blonde man grimly. "We must make the best of it. Try to be cheerful." He smiled at the girl. Then he turned to Thessela.
"You are also new to this I think," he said. "You look...maybe not afraid, but not comfortable."
"No," said Thessela quietly. "Not comfortable. I suppose I will have to become comfortable with many new things."
"I have had good masters, bad masters, and no masters," said the blonde man. "I think if you see someone who wants to buy slaves, and he looks kind, you should sell yourself."
"Sell myself?" asked Thessela. She wasn't sure what she thought of that.
"Yes," he said. "Smile, be cheerful, act like you want to work for him. It is an act, but it may get you into a good house. You need to prepare yourself before the market opens."
"Thank you for your advice," said Thessela sincerely. "I hope I do end up with kind owners." She paused. "I am Thessela," she said shyly dropping her eyes to the floor of the platform.
"Rolf is my name," said the blonde man. "I will also hope you find a good place." Thessela looked up hesitantly to find him smiling at her. She smiled back.
"How did you become a slave?" asked Thessela.
"I am maybe not a good enough warrior," said Rolf wryly. "I was captured while sleeping in my home village." His voice dropped. "Perhaps someday I will go back, but we must not speak of this here."
A few minutes later the fat Phoenician returned to the platform. Then from somewhere down the row of slave pavilions a trumpet sounded a long note, and the market opened. A man in a white toga, trimmed with purple stepped forward and announced the start of slave trading for the day. He read a listing of the various traders who were selling that day, and then finished with a statement to the slaves.
"Be cheerful. Be willing to work. Be honest and virtuous slaves. This is the path to a happy life. If you support and care for your masters, they will care for you. If you betray your masters, punishment will be swift and certain."
Thessela felt chilled by the words, and saw the younger slave girl was also looking a bit alarmed.
"Don't worry about it," murmured the Phoenician. "They always say that. They had a small slave uprising here a few years ago. All finished now. The speech is really just a formality. Look lively now! Here come our first customers."
And with that, Thessela started her day as prime merchandise.
(to be continued...)
Thessela's Downfall
Part 1: Sold into Slavery:
It was a pleasant warm day in Corinth. Four men and three women, were chained together with slave collars around their necks, led by a large slave trader. He was a fat jolly Phoenician who smiled as he walked through the city, holding the lead of the chain to which his 7 slaves were attached. He was picky about his “merchandise” and his slaves were well trained and well treated. He prided himself that a customer could usually get a slave without whip marks or other blemishes if they bought from him. Those who bought girls for their houses, either as caretakers for the children or for more personal reasons appreciated little details like that. His clients were among the more discerning, meaning rich. His slaves fetched good prices, and he had a reputation that kept his prices high.
The Phoenician and his two assistants bantered jovially to the slaves as they moved through the market. “Good city, Corinth,” he said. “Lots of decent people. You’ll all get good owners, I’m sure.” He smiled at the seven slaves, his eyes moving down the row, pausing only when he came to the end of the line. A slim, dark haired girl with big eyes. She looked a bit frightened, he thought. Well, she was new to this. The others had been through the markets before. This last girl, she seemed young enough, likely in her twenties, had been born free. Romans had conquered her country, or her parents had fallen on hard times, or something else had happened. Lots of ways to fall into slavery in the provinces. She didn’t talk much. She seemed shy.
Never mind, he thought. She’s pretty, clear skinned, with nice pert round breasts and a good figure. She’ll fetch a decent price as a maid or personal slave. He had anticipated that eventuality. He still got aroused thinking how she had blushed when he had first examined her. She had trembled and stared at the floor as he had looked her over appreciatively. Lucky he was good at keeping his rod under his tunic when necessary, he thought. Don't get involved with the merchandise.
The girl was named Thessela. Until age 15, she had lived with her parents in a village some miles south of Rome. They had not been rich, but they were freemen. Her father had been a farmer. It was not a large farm but there was a pleasant house, a garden and always enough to eat. Then there was the plague, a horrible fever that killed her father, mother, her older sister, and younger brother. She was suddenly alone. The only relative was her uncle, her father’s hated brother, who inherited the farm, and her. He had wanted the land. For a number of years he treated her as a slave, making her keep house for him in the home she had shared once with her family. She had nowhere else to go, so she stayed.
Then one day her uncle had been uncharacteristically jovial and said he had a special surprise for her. He would take her to the market. He waited while she dressed in her cleanest dress. Then he took her arm and they walked down the road to the market in the village, a few miles from the farm. He had bought her a fresh plum, purple fat and ripe, and she had smiled at him for the first time in months as she thanked him for it. It felt nice to be treated well.
Of course, it was too good to be true. Her uncle steered her toward the far end of the market square and they arrived at a warehouse building with a porch. That was where she first saw the jolly fat Phoenician. Her uncle, her own flesh and blood, started telling a story of his hardship, and how he had kept her after the death of her family, but could not afford to do so anymore. Thessela realized he was talking about her. She felt her world crumble around her, as her uncle said that, sad as it was for him to consider it, he was forced to desperate solutions to save his own family. The Phoenician listened and then asked about her past life.
"She's a good, decent, obedient girl," said her uncle, and went on to describe how she worked hard, and didn't go out much. That seemed to please the Phoenician and he added a few coins to a purse he was holding. "She'll make a fine house or body slave," said her uncle.
Thessela was mortified. She couldn’t speak. She was vaguely aware of her uncle and the Phoenician discussing her and what price she would fetch. She wanted to scream, but she felt frozen, overwhelmed by how quickly her formerly secure life had disappeared. She wondered if it was possible to go back in time, even a half hour to where she had a plum, and just stop there. She looked up, and the Phoenician was passing a purse of money to her uncle.
“There,” her uncle said. “You’re a slave now, girl. You belong to this man. Be good.” And he turned to leave.
“No,” she almost whispered. “Why are you doing this. I want to go home. Don’t do this please.”
But her uncle, looking slightly uncomfortable, just turned and walked away, leaving Thessela standing with tears running down her cheeks.
“There, there,” said the Phoenician, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “Let’s not cry. You’ll spoil your looks for the show. It’s not so bad. Come with me. We need to see what you’re all about anyway. Then you can have some food, and we’ll see about finding you a master.” He led the crying girl into the building.
That had been a few weeks ago. There had been a sea voyage where she had been sick. She had found her sea legs after a day or two and had then spent part of the voyage helping “keep house” for the Phoenician. He seemed genuinely fond of her, and keeping his small cabin cleaned was no big problem. She began to think she might almost get used to life as a slave. She knew many slaves had lives worse than this, but also knew her current situation was only temporary.
“I will be sorry to sell you,” he said, “but unfortunately I do not really need a young slave girl, and I can not afford too many indulgences. I will be sad to see you go."
Thessela felt a thrill of apprehension at the prospect of having her pleasant duties on the ship end, and the unknown future of enslavement to a new master in a strange new place. It must have shown on her face, because the Phoenician said: "Cheer up, girl! We still have a few days before the big market. ”
That brought it to today in Corinth, with seven slaves newly off the trading ship, chained together, walking from the wharf to market in the early morning air.
Corinth was a rich city, a centre of religion and learning. There were libraries and temples, pleasant looking well constructed houses. There lots of ships in the port and merchants were everywhere, with slaves carrying all manner of goods from across the Empire. There were also quite a few slave traders coming to the Corinthian slave market. The Phoenician was going to sell only his best slaves here, he said. Top wares for top price. That was the seven of them, Thessela thought as she walked at the end of the row, chained to the man in front of her. He was a muscular athletic type, blonde haired. She guessed he was from some northern province. She had heard of Gaul. Perhaps he was from there. He like the other three male slaves was dressed in leather shorts that did not hide the contours of his buttocks or the bulge at the front. She blushed as she realized where she was staring. The other male slaves were similarly muscular and attractive, all fitting the dark haired, olive skinned Mediterranean profile.
She found the chain and slave collar chafing. The Phoenician had attached it almost apologetically. Customs, he said. Had to follow protocols. At least the Phoenician's slaves were clothed. She had seen some Nubian slave women being moved to market wearing only loincloths. She and the other two slave girls were dressed in simple fresh knee length white dresses. Of the two other women, one might have been her age or perhaps older. She looked like walking to market did not bother her at all. The other was a girl hardly out of her teens. She was trying to look brave, but kept looking around wide-eyed.
"She looks like I feel," thought Thessela. "Afraid and nervous." That was part of it. She had never been sold in a market. It felt like her future was completely uncertain, but that opportunities were also possible. To keep her mind off her nervousness, she tried taking an interest in the city around her.
They moved at a reasonable but leisurely pace. Corinth was a clean, well constructed city. There were a lot of impressive Roman buildings. She was surprised to see that, especially the ornate temples, this far from what she had thought was the centre of the Empire. Then she felt silly. She had never been to Rome either, even though she had been born within a day’s chariot ride of the greatest city on earth. Still, she appreciated the apparent opulence of the city.
Finally the cobbled streets opened out into a large square or forum. At the north end of the square was the obligatory temple, with its massive columns, built in the Greek style. At the south end was the street from which they had just arrived. The west side of the square was already filling up with farm vendors, fishmongers, and other small food sellers. The east side of the square was ranged with colourful tent pavilions, each of which had a platform erected in front of it. This was the weekly Corinthian slave market.
The Phoenician and his two assistants directed their 7 slaves toward a larger red and yellow pavilion. This was their stall for the day. Thessela wondered how long it took to sell seven people. She was suddenly anxious again at the thought of being sold. How is it done? Do they just like what they see and pay? Do you have to say anything. What do you say to someone trying to buy you?
"Okay, here we are," said the Phoenician cheerfully. "Up you get." And the assistants directed the seven slaves onto the platform in front of the pavilion. "Give them something to eat, and let them relax for a few minutes," said the Phoenician. "We've got a little time before the slave market officially opens. I need to see someone. I'll be back shortly." And he disappeared into the pavilion.
The assistants unchained the seven slaves and let them relax on the platform. One of them brought out some food and some water. Thessela sat on the floor of the platform with the other slaves and ate a hunk of bread with cheese and some grapes. The three dark haired men and one of the women seemed happy just to sit quietly, but the blonde man wanted to chat.
"Have you ever been to market before," the big blonde slave was asking the youngest slave girl.
"No, never," said the girl. "Will it be okay?"
"It is never okay to sell people," said the blonde man grimly. "We must make the best of it. Try to be cheerful." He smiled at the girl. Then he turned to Thessela.
"You are also new to this I think," he said. "You look...maybe not afraid, but not comfortable."
"No," said Thessela quietly. "Not comfortable. I suppose I will have to become comfortable with many new things."
"I have had good masters, bad masters, and no masters," said the blonde man. "I think if you see someone who wants to buy slaves, and he looks kind, you should sell yourself."
"Sell myself?" asked Thessela. She wasn't sure what she thought of that.
"Yes," he said. "Smile, be cheerful, act like you want to work for him. It is an act, but it may get you into a good house. You need to prepare yourself before the market opens."
"Thank you for your advice," said Thessela sincerely. "I hope I do end up with kind owners." She paused. "I am Thessela," she said shyly dropping her eyes to the floor of the platform.
"Rolf is my name," said the blonde man. "I will also hope you find a good place." Thessela looked up hesitantly to find him smiling at her. She smiled back.
"How did you become a slave?" asked Thessela.
"I am maybe not a good enough warrior," said Rolf wryly. "I was captured while sleeping in my home village." His voice dropped. "Perhaps someday I will go back, but we must not speak of this here."
A few minutes later the fat Phoenician returned to the platform. Then from somewhere down the row of slave pavilions a trumpet sounded a long note, and the market opened. A man in a white toga, trimmed with purple stepped forward and announced the start of slave trading for the day. He read a listing of the various traders who were selling that day, and then finished with a statement to the slaves.
"Be cheerful. Be willing to work. Be honest and virtuous slaves. This is the path to a happy life. If you support and care for your masters, they will care for you. If you betray your masters, punishment will be swift and certain."
Thessela felt chilled by the words, and saw the younger slave girl was also looking a bit alarmed.
"Don't worry about it," murmured the Phoenician. "They always say that. They had a small slave uprising here a few years ago. All finished now. The speech is really just a formality. Look lively now! Here come our first customers."
And with that, Thessela started her day as prime merchandise.
(to be continued...)
However, I must call it like I see it. This particular Phoenician is, or was rather, of jovial disposition, and, not to put too fine a point on it, also fat. It is simply descriptive and accurate. Please do not trouble yourself further about it. My best regards to your cousin. 
"
