Romanowski and Rosemary

23. Althea Rosemary is it?

Such anger rose in me, throbbing my temples, but I was just a spectator of the ghastly ancient world. I stared at the man, wanting to rip his hair apart.

"It's not her fault. It's the fault of your fucking sperm, you moron," I gritted out as unexpected tears formed at the corner of my eyes. The slave master paid the man a hefty price and dragged the woman into the room as if she was a commodity.

"Clean up," he ordered. "You'll be put up for sale tomorrow."

Sitting by the door, I tried my hardest not to cry. The woman, with tears still smearing her face, tried to quieten her baby as she continued crying. Her cries sounded as if she was a very young newborn. The other little girl, who looked three, sat fearfully by her mother's side, clutching her robes. Her little brown eyes darted around in dread, shaggy red hairs matted on her forehead.

"Can I help?" I approached them, because if I didn't, the last ounce of humanity left in me would've died. The woman looked up at me, looking so broken that it seemed no one could fix her ever. My throat closed up on me, seeing as she looked around my age.

Such different worlds of two women of the same age. One, a learned time traveller and scholar. The other, a slave, a mother of 2 at such a young age, sold again into slavery.

She had no strength left in her as she wordlessly passed me her baby.

Despite the situation, I tried bringing a smile to my face. Wrapped in poorly roughened fabric, the baby lay wailing. "Sister, I think the cloth is causing her discomfort," I said and without waiting further, unwinded the long end of my linen, tearing an ample amount of my cloth. When I was removing the harsh fabric from the baby, did my eyes filled back with tears.

Because she was so young that she still had the umbilical cord attached.

H- How can someone be so harsh as to abandon such a gift from God?

But then again, there were many ancient kingdoms where people as high as monarchs would bury newborn daughters alive, kill them off using trained killers, because they wanted sons.

Still, in my world, there were reports of people killing or abandoning baby girls. It put me in utter shame that even after 2000 years, immoral acts like these lurked around our world.

Quickly bunching up my torn linen; with utmost delicacy, I picked the frail child and laid her on the soft cloth. Carefully winding the cloth around her, I picked her in my arms and used my index finger to draw soft circles on her forehead, all while singing a hymn of Aphrodite, very softly, like a lullaby.

"A- Are you an angel? F- Fallen from the heavens?" the woman uttered, looking dazed at me.

No sister. I'm a time traveller from the 21st century. And I'm here to listen to your story and share it with my world. I smiled to myself.

Over the night, she came to be an excellent source for me to know about the situation of slaves in ancient Greece. Her older daughter, who looked like a preschooler, slept peacefully in my arms, having made good acquaintance with me in the evening.

There was no benefit for me to lament and beat my head at my condition. Blaming myself or the department. Despite the mental torture, there was this mad zeal within me to not leave any information behind.

Because the worst that could happen to me was death, which would simply transport me back to my world.

* * *

The sleep was better than what I'd gotten over the days on the ship. Wordlessly, the women cleansed themselves, ready to be sold off today. Sharing my experiences of Aphrodite's mercy, I made some slave women learn a few of the goddess' hymns, which eased their fear somewhat.

It was unnerving how the slaves were put to display at the crack of dawn itself. Fingers entwined together, I kept my head lowered, my heart finally at ease that Lorenzo would come, and at last we'll exit this world. The lovely Mediterranean would help us.

Even the slave owner was probably scared of Lorenzo because he dared not sell me to some other man today. I was as good as a showpiece for his shop.

As morning came by, an unexpected hustle disturbed the marketplace. Peeking in the said direction, I witnessed some high flags of sorts belonging to an elite family in Greece.

Royal guards marched with those flags and long spears, and for the first time, I saw women in the public place of Greece. The slave women began whispering to one another, hopeful that an influential person would buy them. And they'd be on their ultimate road to freedom.

Amongst the women wearing white linen, moved another lady. Her robes were colourful and so rich and beautiful compared to her apparent maidservants. She was checking the shops about the marketplace as the shop owners bowed deeply in her presence. Her lengthy black hair was straight as a waterfall.

But when I met her eyes, I felt my soul leave my body.

"Hey, Cors… I- I've… reached…" Lorenzo was breathless as he called in my head, and looking the way opposite to that of the elite class, I saw him, devoid of his horse. Close behind him was the first man who'd come to buy me yesterday.

But I couldn't feel anything. Neither happiness nor fear. My mind was so utterly blank about what was to happen now.

And then, like a dam, impossible terror broke out in my head. Bound in chains, I couldn't even run. Not even Lorenzo could save me.

I kept my head lowered, wishing to disappear from the site as my teeth clattered in utter dread.

I didn't know my fake black eyes were going to be my ultimate tragedy today.

As assumed, the royal lady came to stand before me, and I swear I would've cried out at her domineering presence, if I hadn't bitten my tongue back.

Without a word, she tilted my chin up with one long finger. Her eyes bore into mine, in curiosity and surprise, as she contemplated something within.

"Oh, fuc- oh Cors, h- how will I save you now?" Lorenzo saw my impending doom.

"What's your name?" she asked, as if hitting the bullseye with that single question.

I whimpered. In no way was I going to tell her my name.

"S- Slave, m- mistress," I mumbled, my heart weeping in my chest with the way I was torturing it with the lie.

She sighed in dissatisfaction. Voice holding guilt as she spoke further.

"Didn't know my son would stoop so low as to sell you off in a slave market."

"N- No! No, he didn't I-" And the remaining words lay choked in my throat when I realised I'd put the hammer to my own foot.

She gazed at my different coloured eyes again, her exquisite face giving away no expression.

"So, Althea Rosemary is it, hm?" Mistress Armonia whispered.