Chapter Text
Belle detested slave auctions.
The law stated that one could own another as property but to her it was barbaric. She didn't believe that anyone should have control over another's life. Whenever she seen the slaves on display she always had to look away. The majority of them which were sold at auction were proclaimed fit, healthy and ready to be put to work but what her eyes told her said otherwise for many were underfed and underdressed, dressed in the plainest of rags, soiled from the conditions in which they were forced to live until they were finally sold.
A crowd had gathered in the town square of her local market and she could tell from the wagon's loaded cargo that it was another slave auction. She watched them go by as they were carted through the narrow, crowded street. She would not normally come to the market unless she needed to. Owning a farm meant she had her own supply of meat, dairy and poultry. Though she had come today in the hopes of purchasing another hen. Ignoring the hustle of the crowd around her and the proclamation that rang though the air announcing the auction was about to start, she remained incurious, looking at the several wooden cages containing plump hens.
"Get em' unloaded!" Someone barked.
She glanced around to see the wagon being unloaded and the slaves being pulled out. The slaver grabbed the first captive, a young woman and pulled her roughly forward, the action forcing the others to follow. She watched as they were lined up at the base of the wooden steps about to be presented to potential bidders. She cast her eyes over them as the first slave was pulled up onto the makeshift stage.
Belle watched a man dressed in fine clothing approach the front of the stage, raising his hands to quiet the crowd. "A fine day, is it not ladies and gentlemen? A fine day for a sale." He said clapping his beefy hands together. "We have a fine collection here today, ladies and gentlemen, and you will have the chance to inspect them but first please draw your attention to this beautiful specimen." He pulled the young woman forward, ignoring her startled yelp. He pulled the ragged clothing from her shoulder, exposing it and part of her chest, her breast barley covered. "Gentlemen?" He chuckled, getting a few in return from members of the crowd.
"Shall I start the bidding at one silver? Who will give me one silver for this one? Two! Do I hear four? Who will give me four silver? Thank you sir, I have four silver. Six silver? Do I have six silver? Ten! I have ten silver. Do I hear fourteen? Fifteen! I have fifteen silver for this wench, who will give me sixteen?"
Belle closed her eyes, forcing herself to look away. She was witnessing a young woman being bargained for like cattle only to be used for a man's own pleasure. She hadn't even realised she was crying before she felt a tear run down her cheek.
"Sold!" She bowed her head. She knew she shouldn't watch but at the same time she knew she shouldn't be silent. She looked up again, tears in her eyes only to see a man climb the stage to inspect his purchase. She watched as he turned her back and forth but she could barley contain herself when he opened her mouth to inspect her teeth as though she were an animal. Satisfied, he smiled as he gave her a sharp slap to her rear, ignoring her pained cry.
"Pleasure doing business with you, sir." The auctioneer beamed as he shook hands with the man before moving onto his next lot.
For Belle, after watching that first slave being sold, it all passed by in a blur. Each slave was brought up, bid for and sold. It wasn't until they came to the very last slave did she find herself unable to look away. The poor soul could barely climb the steps as he appeared to be struggling to hop on one foot. With the aid of two slavers gripping him tightly by the arms, he was hoisted forcibly onto the platform. She continued to watch as he panted tiredly, trying to catch his breath. He was crippled.
There was something disgusting about selling a crippled man, who appeared to be in his late forties maybe his early fifties. The clothes he wore, like the rest of the slaves, hung off his too thin frame. His over tunic was filthy and torn at the front, exposing most of his chest and to Belle's horror, his breastbone and ribs. His head was bowed forward, matted hair concealing host of his face as he continued to take deep breaths in an effort to get some air back into his lungs.
Taking his place in front of the slave, the auctioneer extended a hand towards the older man behind him. "Our last item, ladies and gentlemen. He's old, I grant, but make no mistake ladies and gentlemen, he is spry." The crowd murmured quietly, clearly disinterested.
"He can cook," the auctioneer went on "clean, sew and mend clothing. A marvel at the wheel." The auctioneer motioned hastily for the two slavers to bring him closer for the crowd to have a better inspection if he was ever going to have any chance of finally selling this one. The man himself had kept his head bowed low, staring at his worn shoes while the auctioneer made an attempt to sell him. It was his age and his crippled leg that had failed him. No one wanted to buy a crippled, weak, old man.
His continuous rejection meant that his master had lost out on money and as a result he was denied food and water for days on end, only to be washed and fed when it was auction day in an attempt to finally sell him. Countless nights he had lay awake and prayed. He prayed for his boy and that he may see him again one day. He prayed for better fortunes, for comfort. Even though he knew there was no escaping this life, the distant thought that someone might hear his prayer brought him peace. He closed his eyes, feeling a tear run down his cheek.
"Inspect at your leisure sir, inspect at your leisure!" He heard the auctioneer beam. He opened his eyes to see a finely dressed man with polished boots approach him. He wore an expressionless face as he turned the frail man back and forth, examining his body. He took a hold of his head, pushing his lip upwards as he inspected his teeth, accessing his oral hygiene and rifled fingers through his hair, examining his scalp for lice. He took ahold of his chin, tilting his head in various directions as he examined his face, no doubt taking note of his sunken eyes and his protruding cheekbones. His gaunt features showing his malnourishment. The man, whose face had not changed, shook his head.
"Not to your liking, sir?" The auctioneer enquired, hands steepled together.
"He's not worth the dirt on my boots, never mind my coin." The man replied, dissatisfaction evident in his tone and with a curt nod, he dismounted the stage. Belle continued to watch the scene unfold with a tightness in her chest as two more customers approached the old man, a couple. The lady clothed in a simple dress with elegant trimmings held her husband's arm while he inspected the slave. He pulled his tunic apart at his chest, exposing most of his ribs.
With a mummer of discontentment, he tapped the old man's thigh twice with a polished cane, signalling him to turn around. The slave did so but with great difficulty as the slavers supporting him had to manually turn him, immediately brining his disability to the gentleman's attention. Like the first man, he shook his head in decline. The man was filthy, gaunt faced and lame. He was damaged goods.
"Not to your taste?" The auctioneer asked, moving the slave out of his way.
"I breed horses, sir. I know quality and this is not quality!" He jabbed the point of the cane into the man's leg for emphasis, ignoring his yelp of pain. Should ever one of his beasts suffer a lame leg, it would be immediately put out of its misery. With an nod of his head, he and his wife dismounted the platform. The auctioneer watched them disappear into the mass. Two more customers dissatisfied and still no sale. The auctioneer cleared his throat, slicking back his grey hair as he adjusted his coat.
Hearing a weak moan coming from behind him, he looked around to see the old man sagging forward, the two slavers holding the majority of his weight. He looked to the old man who's long hair had fallen into his face. The auctioneer looked with stern eyes from the slave to his men, demanding an explanation.
"He's going to faint, sir." One of them explained, hoisting the old man up.
"Get him out of here!" The auctioneer hissed, waving his hand sharply in dismissal. That old mutt was more trouble than he was worth. They nodded, hastily manoeuvring him off the stage much to the crowds displeasure. He kept his eyes on them until they were out of sight before turning his eyes back to the crowd, his face once again optimistic.
"My sincerest apologies for the delay, ladies and gentlemen." The auctioneer apologised, holding a hand to his chest.
Belle watched as they manoeuvred the poor man down the steps but she did not see where he had been taken. What alarmed her was that he had not been brought back to one of the wagons so she feared the worst despite not knowing anything about the man. She had kept her eyes on him the whole time that man had tried to sell him, she could see his health deteriorating. She saw him pant and shallow heavily. It was only lately she noticed he was sweating as he swayed uneasily on his feet, despite the two slavers holding him up.
She overheard the auctioneer apologise to the crowd and conclude the auction, thanking everyone for the purchases and announcing when he would be next returning. She knew she should be returning home soon with the sun starting to get low. The cows needed to be put back into their stalls and the pigs needed to be fed. However, she felt compelled to find out what had become of that slave, if only to make sure he was ok. She made her way through the dispersed crowd towards the stage. As the crowds began to part she seen the two slavers preparing the horses and the auctioneer observing but no sign of the old man.
Approaching them, she cleared her throat. The auctioneer looked around, a hint of surprise on his flushed face. "Hello, milady." He greeted with a curt nod. "What can I do for you?" Before she could answer, she heard a wheezing coughing coming from inside an old alcove sorting bags of grain and barrels of ale.
Stepping in front of the man, she approached the alcove and peered in only to see the old slave, lying in a heap on the ground. He was coughing so hard, his body heaving which left him gasping for air. She bent down to the poor man, placing a hand under his head, gently stroking his forehead. He was also running a high fever. Looking back up at the auctioneer she seen nothing but indifference. He cared nothing for this man. To him, he was damaged goods only to be discarded. He was expendable.
"Is there something I can assist you with, milady?" He asked in the same respectful tone, his hands behind his back. She as astonished. How could anyone have such disregard for another person's life? She hated the slave trade and the laws that permitted it. She watched helpless men, women an children separated from one another and sold. She could not turn away and ignore it, to turn a blind eye but there was something she could do.
"I'll take him." She stated with her eyes fixed firmly on the auctioneer.