Chapter Text
62 A.D.
Arturia weaved her way through the bustling crowds weaving around Capitoline Hill. Worshippers and priestesses flited in and out of the many temples dedicated to the gods. On her right, groups of senators, dressed in their white togas, meandered out of the Forum, signalling an end to the day’s discussions. Elsewhere, the distant din of vendors selling their wares could be heard.
Arturia continued past these crowds until she finally reached the city’s central market. The buzz of the crowd was overwhelming. Hundreds of vendors advertised their offerings. Materials, trinkets, and spices, imported from the far reaches of the empire were available for sale. Thousands of shoppers were scattered throughout the marketplace, examining the products offered or haggling for better prices.
Coming to a stop at the entrance of the market, Arturia looked to Bedivere expectantly. “He’s here?”
Bedivere, her steadfast attendant, nodded grimly. “Our sources say he will be here today.” Turning to her, he gently chastised, “Be mindful to not reveal your identity. Women are not allowed to be at the slave auction, so they must believe you to be Arthur.”
Arturia nodded. It would be easy enough. Her brother Arthur was just four years her junior. At 15, Arthur was still growing. No longer a child, but not quite a man either. Though he had experienced a growth spurt in recent months, he and Arturia were about the same height. Furthermore, he and Arturia shared the same bright emerald eyes and golden blonde hair, leading many people to mistakenly believe they were twins. Though if she were honest with herself, her days of assuming Arthur's identity were limited. He was very close to eclipsing her short stature.
Due to the remarkable similarities in their appearance, Arturia was very lucky that her kind-hearted younger brother often allowed her to assume his identity. His gesture afforded her some semblance of freedom in Rome’s patriarchal society. Currently, her brother was at home with their tutor, attempting to learn Greek. Unlike her, he was less inclined to learning new languages, preferring their native Celtic tongue to Latin and Greek. This left today’s task to her and Bedivere.
Scanning the marketplace, Arturia located the unassuming structure that housed their destination, the slave auction. Inclining her head in the direction of the auction house, Arturia motioned for Bedivere to follow her.
***
Entering the auction house, Arturia was immediately hit by its putrid smell. A musty, foul odour permeated the premises, likely a mix of various human bodily fluids and decaying organic matter. Rich men, dressed in fanciful togas, milled around the auction house with their entourage in tow. Arturia recognized a number of the clientele who belonged to the patrician classes – the empire’s elite, upper classes who wielded significant political power and copious amounts of wealth. Many of them were speaking with the Venalitti, looking to secure new slaves for their estates.
Beside her, Arturia noticed Bedivere shift uneasily. Turning towards him, she followed his gaze. At least a hundred naked men, women, and children were chained and displayed on revolving platforms. At this auction house, individuals from all corners of the empire’s conquered lands were on sale. Around their necks, they wore placards – a physical and symbolic representation of their subjection to the empire’s tyranny.
Arturia felt her stomach drop. Upon many of their bodies, Arturia noticed bruises, welts, and other signs of abuse. Slaves were at the mercy of their master’s capricious moods. It was no secret that the Romans condoned the use of violence against slaves.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it was built on the backs of slaves.”
Aside from a deepening of his frown, Bedivere made no indication that he heard her. “We’ll need to look more closely.” He turned his attention to a group of potential buyers who had walked up to the platforms to inspect the slaves more closely.
Arturia, drew a shaky breath to release some of the tension from her body. “Alright. Let’s go.” She could not let her tumultuous thoughts distract her from their mission.
As they drew nearer to the displays, Arturia noticed many of the slaves avoided eye contact, outright. She felt a stab of guilt, grateful that they were not looking directly at her. Many of these slaves up for auction were her countrymen. Men, women, and children whom were enslaved by the Roman legions during the Boudican revolt a year ago. Though she didn’t recognize any particular faces, it could have easily been her stripped, bound, and displayed like an animal for the Roman elite.
Forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, she pushed these turbulent emotions away. Quickly, she and Bedivere searched for a familiar face. They walked through the rows briskly, averting their eyes and focusing only on scanning the downtrodden faces of these people. It was their insufficient but sincere attempt of respecting their privacy.
After two rounds of scanning the auction house, Arturia felt her dread rising. “He’s not here!”
Bedivere looked thoughtful, albeit his face was also beginning to crease in worry. “Gawain should be up for auction today. Maybe he is being held elsewhere before the auction starts.”
“Is there any possibility that your sources are wrong?” Her voice was shaky, betraying her concern. “We’ve walked around the auction house twice, and Gawain is clearly not here.”
“Gawain? You’re looking for Gawain?”
Arturia and Bedivere whirled around, focusing on the young boy. He appeared to be quite young around the age of 11 or 12, with dirty matted hair and striking maroon eyes. Though bound and on display, his inquisitive eyes were alert and mischievous, lacking the lifeless and defeated countenance of those around him.
In their distress, Arturia and Bedivere had reverted to speaking their native tongue. Hence, their little eavesdropper had been listening to their conversation. Cautiously, Arturia approached the little boy, “What is your name, child?”
“Richard, but my friends call me Richard the Lion Heart.”
“Is Gawain your friend?”
“He is. We came here together from Britannia.” Richard adopted a solemn expression on his face, wistful at the thought of his homeland.
“What does Gawain look like?” Bedivere cut in, returning the boy's attention to his missing friend.
“Well…uh…he’s tall. Not as tall as you, but he’s only a little bit shorter than you." He gestured to Bedivere, causing his chains to rattle in the process. "He also told me he was turning 19 this year.”
“And, uh… he has light blue eyes. He also had short blonde hair like you, sir.” Turning to Arturia, Richard carefully scrutinized her features. “Actually, you two look alike.”
Arturia smiled at the boy’s perceptiveness. “Gawain is my cousin.” Though they were unable to locate her cousin just yet, it seemed that their encounter with Richard was providential. Perhaps he could offer them clues to her cousin’s whereabouts. “I believed our Gawain is also your Gawain. Do you know where he is?”
***
Later that day, Arturia departed the auction house without Gawain, but with a 12-year-old in tow. Arturia had meant to buy Gawain’s freedom, but upon seeing Richard, she could not turn a blind eye to his plight. She had heard of the unspeakable horrors that young children suffered at the hands of their masters. Several shifty figures had seemed too keen on purchasing Richard, and Arturia had spent a significant sum of money to secure his freedom.
That left her at an impasse – an extra addition to her father’s household. Uther Pendragon, her father, was a tribal leader from Britannia. After his participation in Boudica’s failed revolt, Uther was forced to serve the empire in exchange for the Emperor’s amnesty for his tribe. Though her father held an important administrative position, their family’s wellbeing was at the mercy of the emperor’s whim.
This was evident in their small family home and modest lifestyle. Only a handful of servants served the Pendragon family – a far cry from the large households of other families in the equestrian class.
In light of these circumstances, Bedivere had questioned Arturia earlier, when she indicated her intention to free Richard.
“Your father won’t be happy, Artu-Arthur.” He warned, catching himself before he accidentally blew her cover. “You know money is tight right now, and he already finds it difficult to staff the house with the current number of servants. He will be unhappy with an extra mouth to feed.”
Imperceptibly, Arturia turned her gaze towards an old man wearing a white robe with a thick purple stripe – a garment that professed his senatorial status. “Gaius Lucius over there has shown some interest in Richard. He’s notorious for his perverse love of pretty young boys.” Turning back, she glared at Bedivere. “Are you to leave him to that loathsome man?”
Bedivere raised his hands, in a placating gesture. “Of course, I won’t leave him to such a vile fate.” He said with some reproach, slightly miffed that Arturia would believe him to be so heartless. “I am just attempting to work out alternative methods that might be more suitable given your situation. Richard is but a young child. We would most likely be unable to find a suitable role for him in the household. Is there no other way for us to help him?”
Sighing, she felt her anger deflate. Bedivere was right. "Father will not be pleased. Our household is running low on funds, and the Emperor is watching us closely. I can’t be sure I’ll be able to provide what Richard needs…at all. But still, there’s no way I can turn my back on him." Weighing these thoughts in her mind, she made a decision.
“I know we did not anticipate this outcome at all today, but I am confident that this is the best plan we have given Richard’s precarious circumstances. As for the details, I will figure something out. Money has been tight, but my textile business is promising. If I continue to work hard, I think I will be able to turn things around.”
Bedivere studied her closely. Neither of them spoke for a few tense moments. Finally, he seemed to have decided to trust her conviction. “Alright, just let me support you as best I can.”
Arturia offered him a small smile. “I will.”
***
“Is this your house?” Richard asked, his expression lighting up as he took in the neat gardens and classical architecture of the Pendragon’s small domus. It was a simple, single-storied building with yellow exterior walls and a red roof. At the front of the house, her family operated two small stores where they sold vases and textiles. The textiles had been a recent addition, as Arturia had finally honed her weaving abilities since they moved to Rome and started selling togas. Her work had been met with widespread praise and excitement.
Past the family’s burgeoning businesses, the home was set around a brightly lit atrium. At its center, the room opened to the sky, and a pool stood below this opening to collect rainwater. The previous owner had installed windows in the rooms adjourning the atrium, allowing sunlight to filter in. This was the area of the home where her father received guests and conducted business meetings. His clientele would call upon her father in the mornings and return with her father in the evenings where they dinned while lounging on couches. Arturia’s wool-working also took place there, leading there to be a small area to be sectioned off for her tools.
Past the atrium was Arturia’s favourite place in the home, a central courtyard surrounded by large white columns. Here, she cultivated a small flower garden. She and Arthur spent most of their time here: studying, lounging, and occasionally training. Unlike the atrium, this courtyard was the family’s private domain, and their bedrooms encircled it. Finally, at the back of the house was their vegetable garden, kitchen, and servants’ quarters.
“It is.” Arturia replied, observing Richard’s unbridled awe with amusement. She mused to herself that although modest by Roman standards, the house was far more spectacular than any private residence she had seen in Britannia. Despite her misgivings with Roman society, she had to admit they were fantastic builders. When she first moved to the city a little over a year ago, she had been equally stunned by the magnificent architecture lining every single street and alleyway. “We don’t see this much back home in Brittania, do we?”
Richard could only shake his head, speechless.
“Well…we should introduce you to the family. I think you will be a great companion to my brother Arthur. He’s only 3 years older than you.”
“Oh…so he was the one that you impersonated?” Richard had been quite shocked when Arturia revealed her disguise.
“Yes, the real Arthur. You’ll also have to meet my father…” She trailed off as she heard a commotion coming in from the entryway.
Strolling in through the front gates was her father, looking quite dishevelled. A rare occurrence, she noted, for a normally dispassionate man. Behind her she spotted several of his clientele following him, all looking rather bewildered themselves as well. Upon spotting her, her father immediately locked his eyes on her.
“Arturia, I have some news…” He seemed rather nervous, even a little agitated.
Strange. Her father never usually lets his impenetrable mask fall like this. A sense of dread began to fill her. Something must be wrong.
“His Majesty, Emperor Nero, has declared you are to be married to General Gilgamesh. The wedding will take place in June.”