Thora Read online

  Thora

  by

  Cameron North

  WASP Publishing

  2019

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Glossary of Terms

  About the Author

  Thora: A Spartan Hoplite's Slave

  © 2019 By Cameron North. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN-13 (paperback): 978-1-7321153-5-4

  ISBN-13 (ebook): 978-1-7321153-6-1

  This electronic book is published by

  WASP Publishing

  Kennedyville, MD 21645

  www.littleredwings.com

  Second Edition – April 2019 – 1001.04

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. For information regarding permission, email WASP Publishing.

  The map of Greek Relief Location Map was created by Wikimedia, and is distributed under the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2.

  Credits

  Editor: Randie J. Creamer

  Editor: Shalini Gopal

  Editor: Julia Vinson

  Cover Design: May Dawney Designs

  Synopsis

  She is the only female hoplite in Spartan history.

  She is a royal guard to King Leonidas.

  She is the Iron Edge.

  In an age when men rule, Halcyon rises above and is the master of her own life. At home, Halcyon controls her lands and her personal slaves with a strict hand, until the day she purchases an unusual slave. Thora is a fair skinned woman who stands taller than the Greek gods, with hair the color of gold, and blue eyes that rival the skies. Halcyon must own the unusual woman, but she is hardly prepared for the thunder that follows.

  Step back into the glory of Ancient Sparta when the city-state becomes a formidable military power. Learn about Sparta's unique social system including women's dominant roles in both the house and in public affairs, and follow one slave owner's journey as she learns to accept her slave's spirit.

  Map of Greece

  Ca. 480 BC

  Prologue

  Apollo's burning yellow chariot hung in the western sky and continued riding across the arid summer sky. In the northern district of Sparta, a powerful woman weaved through the city's twisted streets until she came upon a villa. From the Greek symbol on the gate, she knew she was at the correct house. Through word of mouth, she had located a slave trader, who mainly sold to the Spartan polis. With a sidelong glance, she assured that her elder slave caught up to her.

  The elder slave, Cesare, had trailed respectfully behind his owner. He paused several steps behind her and awaited their welcome into the slave trader's home. In recent years, Cesare had developed gray streaks through his dark hair, and his brown eyes were slightly cloudy. Time made his skin form soft rolls, and his shoulders fell forward rather than remain square. Cesare's speed in the house had become slower each year, and it already concerned his owner.

  The Spartan woman gazed upon the courtyard beyond the gate's iron bars. She was pleased when a scraggly slave unlatched the bolt and allowed her to enter the villa. With a neutral gaze, she stole the chance to take in the slave trader's courtyard, which measured his wealthy stature in life.

  The slave sealed the gate after Cesare joined his owner. He briefly bowed to them, then silently left.

  It was a brief wait until a short and portly man in a soft blue chiton strolled out from one of the rooms. He had the same slave with him and ordered him to fetch the slaves for sale. "You are Halcyon." He continued crossing the courtyard to his guest. "Your husband, Euclid, mentioned you would be here today." He offered his hand.

  "I am Halcyon."

  "And I am Telamon." For a beat, Telamon lusted over the emerald eyes framed by dark, wavy hair that was held back by braids. He had heard gossip about Halcyon, the king's royal hoplite, who was known as the Iron Edge. He was enthralled by Halcyon's beauty. Even in her ornate lilac peplos, she was clearly built to fight. Her defined arms were perhaps sculpted by Ares. Her grip against his hand was powerful. Soft scars traced down her arms, and one was distinct across her collarbone. She was a living legend, Telamon knew.

  "I am looking for a slave. One of mine died this past winter." Halcyon released the slave trader's meaty hand from their clasp. "I was informed you are the best source."

  "Yes." Telamon stepped to his side and indicated the line of eight slaves behind him. "I have the finest slaves." He curiously studied Halcyon's beautiful necklace, which he assumed was a family heirloom.

  Like Halcyon, there were a handful of secret clients in Sparta who purchased slaves. Many of the clients had amassed their private fortunes outside of Sparta's reach because commerce was illegal in the city and territories. The majority of the slaves were owned by the polis and were freely provided to the Spartans. Daily, common chores were for the slaves so that Spartans could strictly focus on the military. Even with so few slave owners, Telamon learned that his clients were extremely wealthy. Price was a short discussion in most transactions.

  Halcyon approached the available slaves. She carefully studied each face. Three slaves were obviously foreigners, most likely brought in from war. "I require a cook."

  Cesare shadowed his owner and also scanned the faces. Concern balled in his stomach because none looked terribly promising for the household. Like his owner, he wanted another, but younger, slave in the household. Many of his daily chores included upkeep of the home, courtyard, stable, horses, and surrounding lands, and Cesare was a terrible cook.

  "A female cook." Halcyon turned to the slave trader.

  Telamon pointed to the female slave near the end. "This one is a fine cook and Illyrian, but her Greek is strong."

  Halcyon frowned. The indicated slave was weathered with time. "Far too old." Cesare was old enough, and adding another elder slave was concerning to Halcyon. "I need a young one." She studied the other available slaves.

  Telamon pointed at the only young-looking, female slave in the lineup. "Glauce has not learned to cook, but she is excellent at weaving."

  Halcyon was further displeased by the news. Cesare could easily teach weaving to the next slave. She considered leaving Telamon's residence, as it appeared he had no young slave to suit her needs.

  "Perhaps you could purchase both slaves." Telamon smiled at the brilliant idea. "The elder can teach the girl to cook." He could sell two of them and double his profits. He was about to speak again when he noticed Halcyon had left his side.

  Halcyon had slowed when she neared an unusual young woman, who was crouched by the plants with a water oinochoe. As the slave stood up, her long legs seemed to never end. Her pale features were framed by golden waves of hair. Halcyon was truly fascinated by her.

  Telamon shuffled over and stiffened at what slave captivated his client.

  "How much for her?"

  Telamon shook his head and rested his linked hands on his rotund belly. "She is not for sale."

  "How much?" Halcyon demanded. She had yet to tear her gaze away from the slave. At first, it had been the sunny hair that captured Halc
yon's attention.

  "You may purchase any but her." Telamon prized this slave — a breathing trophy in his household.

  Halcyon was lost in her admiration and wondered if the sky had been softly blown into the slave's eyes by the gods. She glared at Telamon and tested him with an offer. "A hundred drachmas."

  Telamon balked at the weak offer, willing to kill the slave before he accepted such a low price.

  "Three hundred drachmas." Halcyon had read his disgust in the earlier offer, but his current hesitation was promising to her.

  "She is untrained. She is quite the Cerberus, stubborn and troublesome."

  Halcyon's lips pulled into a small grin at the slave being compared to Hades's three-headed dog. With a deep stare, she saw the storm inside the golden-haired woman. Still, even a defiant and rare slave could fall into the polis's heavy hands. "Four hundred drachmas."

  Telamon played with the gold signet ring on his pinky. He narrowed his gaze at the slave. She was indeed a Cerberus in his household. "She speaks little Greek."

  Halcyon considered whether Telamon was truly trying to discourage her or discourage himself. She refused defeat, like any hoplite, and now had to own the unique slave. In Telamon's hands, the slave would suffer, then eventually be given to the polis when he tired of her. She would certainly die as a helot. Halcyon could see the beautiful fire that burned in her spirit. "Five hundred drachmas." She turned to Telamon. "And I will purchase another slave in two to three months."

  For a long moment, Telamon warred with himself. He had paid half that amount to acquire her from another slave trader, who found her to be too much trouble. He was doubling his money and was guaranteed another sale too. Telamon sighed and held out his hand. "I accept."

  Halcyon clasped his arm in final agreement.

  "She does cook," Telamon said after the shake.

  Reaching between her peplos, Halcyon fished out a pouch. "There are ten owls." She handed the coins to him. "The rest will be brought to you by tomorrow's sunset."

  Telamon's mouth watered at the hefty weight of the ten silver dekadrachm in his hands. Rumors were that Halcyon had history in Athens if she was using their coin, which had Athena's owl stamped on it. He was grateful she had them on hand because he worried about being paid with Sparta's worthless iron disc.

  Halcyon turned to Cesare. "See to her."

  "Yes, ěra." Cesare bowed his head to his owner, then neared the tall slave.

  Telamon signaled his same scraggly slave to help organize the sold slave. He doubted she had many possessions, if any. He then escorted Halcyon back to the gate.

  "Tell me her history."

  Cradling the pouch in his hands, Telamon paused beside the black gate and said, "I purchased her from an Athenian slaver some time ago. Like myself, he had trouble training her. He received her as a payment from a Phoenician merchant." He paused, then mentioned, "I believe she is from Gaul."

  Halcyon considered the information for a moment. People from Gaul lived in the northern lands that the Romans found of interest. "Her age?" she asked.

  "Perhaps twenty or so." Telamon weakly shrugged. "She is in her prime." He unlatched the gate.

  "Her name, Telamon?"

  Telamon glanced at the approaching slaves. He studied the tall, sunny-haired slave, who was now Halcyon's problem. "Makistia."

  Frowning, Halcyon knew it was a slave's name, which meant "tallest" in Greek. Most likely, Telamon knew nothing about the slave's birth name, but perhaps she could learn it in time.

  Chapter One

  Makistia was startled awake by a bang at the door. A fortnight had passed since Makistia joined Halcyon's house and had yet to adjust to the early mornings. Rushing to the door, she opened it a crack until she made out the elder slave's face.

  "It is time to begin," Cesare told her. "Meet me downstairs." He disregarded the fact that Makistia barely knew Greek, but she understood him well enough. Cesare hurried off without another word or look.

  With a frown, Makistia shut the door, leaned her back against it, and stared at her tiny, square confines. The walls were bright, like snow from her homelands. Only a single window broke up the whitewashed interior. Currently, a mat blocked the night's cooler air. On the floor, a bedroll and a ruffled fur blanket called to her. But Makistia had to prepare for the day, although Apollo had yet to mount his chariot and draw the sun over the eastern horizon.

  On the first day, Makistia had received a detailed tour of the two-story villa. She had been impressed by Halcyon's home and lands, which stood on the eastern side of the Greek city at the end of a torturous street. Like many Greek homes, it was made from a combination of wood, stone, and clay. A classic rustic tile had been used on the roof. When visitors arrived, they entered through the front gate and were greeted by a beautiful courtyard with a fountain, draping plants from the second floor, and a marble bench.

  There were two floors to the home that divided work from pleasure. The downstairs had several important rooms for supplies, bathing, and weaving or potting. Additionally, the kitchen was tucked into the rear and was accessible from the outside as well as from the courtyard. The most important room, however, was the husband's own social room. The upstairs had several living quarters for slaves, guests, and the masters. One room upstairs was dedicated for the wife's use, but Halcyon was rarely seen in it. Makistia wondered about her owner's constantly missing presence in the house. Most women in Athens were tied to their homes, but not Halcyon.

  Beyond the villa, the lands were vast. Directly beside the house was a stable with twelve stalls for Halcyon's horses. Alongside the stable was an open grassy field, but Makistia noticed strange wood posts. She was unsure of their purpose. Farther beyond the open grasses was a rolling field that the polis farmed with helots.

  Initially, Makistia spent most of her time at the stable, cleaning the stalls. The task was arduous, even for her. She was accustomed to constant labor, but the stable's needs were beyond the normal. Much of her time was spent mucking stall after stall. Each day began in stench and ended in soreness. As soon as a job was done, she was required to repeat it. Makistia decided the labor was meant to break her thunderous spirit. She resolved to play by the owner's rules, for now.

  Shortly, Makistia found Cesare and was shown the kitchen in detail. Before sun high, Cesare took Makistia to the agora where she would need to go nearly every day for supplies. Makistia tried keeping track of the lengthy list of items. Most days would require food for the house and, occasionally, textiles for clothing, reeds for weaving baskets, or clay to make new pots. Cesare insisted he would handle the supplies for the stable, which relieved Makistia.

  Cesare had conversations with the merchants and pointed at Makistia several times. The merchants smiled and nodded at her. It was obvious they were informed about her lack of the Greek tongue. They seemed too curious about her rare features, which Makistia had become accustomed to since she was torn from her homelands.

  After the agora, Makistia helped Cesare with the goods for the day and returned home. Makistia expected to see Halcyon at some point. She had only seen her on the first day, but since then, Halcyon had been elusive.

  Cesare showed her where the different foods went in the supply room and the kitchen. Then they started prepping for the midday meal. She sensed that Cesare was curious about her skills in the kitchen. Perhaps he expected her to make something more from her homelands than a classic Greek dish. Recently, Makistia had learned many traditional Greek meals due to her time in Athens.

  Cesare was obviously pleased with Makistia's skills in the kitchen. Together, they carried the tray of food, an oinochoe full of wine, and a skyphos through the house. They located Halcyon enjoying the sunlight in the courtyard. As a team, they quickly organized the meal on a table, then stepped aside and waited for any orders.

  Halcyon finished reading a scroll about recent politics and slowly rolled it up. Her mind was on today's duty as the king's guard but pushed it away. She set the scroll on th
e bench to her left, then stood and went to the table. She was pleased by the spread of food. Briefly, her green eyes leveled on the tall slave whom she had acquired a fortnight ago.

  "Is this her first attempt?" Halcyon asked Cesare.

  Cesare kept his hands behind his back. "Yes, ěra." Like his owner, he was surprised by Makistia's culinary skill. He hoped the taste pleased Halcyon, or else they would have taken a large step backward in finding an adequate new slave.

  Halcyon slid into the stone seat at the round table. She had yet to allow Makistia to cook for her, finding it more important to hammer her expectations into Makistia. Normally, it would have only taken three to five days, but Makistia was a proud slave. Halcyon remedied Makistia's pride with long days of mucking the stable and farming with the helots. Her method seemed to temper the slave, at least for now.

  A slight grin pulled at the corner of Halcyon's lips once she noted the heavy use of olives in the two dishes. It had an Athenian flare to it rather than a Spartan style. Halcyon made a mental note to have Cesare show Makistia what exactly made up a Spartan diet. But first, she tasted the dishes one by one and ate some of the bread. Overall, the meal's flavor was pleasing and happily settled with Halcyon.

  Cesare shifted in his boots as he waited for Halcyon's thoughts.

  "Cesare, excuse us." Halcyon peered up from the food and watched him leave.

  Remaining still, Makistia wondered what Halcyon wanted from her, as they could hardly speak in a common tongue.

  Halcyon tore a piece of bread and enjoyed its hearty texture. After swallowing, she cleared her throat and focused on Makistia. "We can only exchange a few words."

  Makistia held her owner's gaze, unsure what was said to her.