'No, Master,' she said, putting her head down. Now she would not own even the rag she wore, or her collar. Such things, as simple as they were, were, like herself, the property of her master.
'How came you to be a slave?' I asked.
She looked up, her eyes clouded. She bit her lip.
'Consider your reply carefully,' I said.
'I was taken to the levies,' she said.
'You have earned yourself discipline,' I said.
'Please, no!' she cried. 'Have pity on me! I am only a poor slave!'
'Do you think it is permissible for you to lie to a free man?' I asked.
'No, Master!' she said. She put down her head, her head in her hands, and sobbed.
'Your reticence is interesting,' I said. 'The matter is doubtless entered in your papers.'
'Yes, Master,' she sobbed.
'Speak, girl,' I said.
'I was taken pursuant to the couching laws,' she said.
'I see,' I said. Any free woman who voluntarily couches with another's salve, or readies herself to do so, becomes the slave of the slave's master. By such an act, the couching with, or readying herself to couch with, a slave, as though she might be a girl of the slave's master, thrown to the slave, she shows herself as no more than a slave, and in this act, in law, becomes a slave. Who then should own her, this new slave? Why, of course, he to whom the law consigns her, the master of the slave with whom she has couched, or was preparing to couch.
'With what slave,' asked I, 'did you couch?'
'I was only preparing to couch!' she said.
'But that is sufficient.' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
It seemed then that the rich beauty had received very little of Milo, scarcely the least of his favors. Perhaps, however, for what it might have been worth, she might have managed to receive a woeful glance or two, or a kissing of her gloved fingers. It is hard to say. How proud she might have been that she, of all women, as far as she knew, had managed to attract the marvelous Milo! Then, when she had kept the tryst, entering into the assignation, and had stripped herself and knelt on the couch, eager, waiting, amorous, careless and adventurous, the net had fallen upon her. Shortly thereafter he neck was in the collar. She was, it seems, to have been denied the caresses of Milo. The slave's master, and then hers, as well, Appanius, had decided it. It would be the coils of the slave net which would tighten upon her body, not the arms of the handsome bondsman. Perhaps this seemed fitting to Appanius, that the new slave, prior to her public imbonding, should be so served. Perhaps he found it amusing. Or perhaps he was jealous of his slave, and wished to reserve his caresses for himself. Or it could have been all three. One did not know.
'What was the name of the slave?' I asked.
'Milo,' she said.
'The well-known Milo,' I asked, 'the actor?'
'Yes,' she said.
'Did you not think he would have his pick of slaves in the house of Appanius?' I asked.
'I did not know,' she said.
'Beautiful slaves, silked for a man's pleasure, perfumed for his delight, eager, needful, helplessly responsive, trained to please in a thousand modalities?'
'I did not know,' she said.
'Did you think to be able to compete with such women?'
'I did not know!' she wept.
'Do you invite further discipline? I asked.
'I was free,' she said. 'I thought that I was somehow special or better!' I smiled. Marcus laughed, and struck the side of his saddle twice, so amused he was.
She looked up at us, angrily.
'But you are not free now,' I said.
'No, Master,' she said.
'Do you still consider yourself better than slaves?' I asked.
'No, Master,' she said, 'for I now, too, am only a slave.'
'And only a field slave,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
Female work slaves, field slaves, stable slaves, and such, like kettle-and-mat girls, are usually considered the lowest of slaves. At any rate, they commonly bring the lowest prices in the markets.
'You are now quite different from what you were as a free woman,' I said. 'Yes, Master,' she said.
'But now that you are slave, even a field slave,' I said, 'you are better prepared to compete with other slaves for the attention of a man than would be a free woman.'
She looked up at me, puzzled.
'You at least know what is your business with men,' I said, 'to please them, and as a slave.'
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'Your life could depend on it,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'Do you doubt your attractiveness?' I asked.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'Do not do so,' I said.
'Master?' she asked.
'You are beautiful,' I said, 'or could be beautiful.'
She was silent.
'Consider yourself,' I said.
She put her hands up to her cropped hair, and then touched the tiny, torn brown rag she wore, and then, again, put her head down, and placed her hands on her thighs.
'Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately?' I asked.
'I have looked upon my reflection in water,' she said, 'in the tank.'
'You are interested in such things?' I said.
She was silent.
'Speak,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'As are other slave girls,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'And what do you see in the water?'
'A slave,' she said.
'A field slave?' I asked.
'A pleasure slave,' she said.
'Ah!' laughed Marcus.
'But yet you are in the fields,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'Do you think it strange that you, who were a free woman, should look upon your reflection, and see in it a pleasure slave?'
'No, Master,' she said.
'From your collaring,' I said, 'you have seen in your reflection this pleasure slave?'
'I have seen her there for years,' she said, 'not just since my collaring.'
'A bold confession,' I said.
'I am a slave girl,' she said. 'I must speak the truth.'
'But once before, it seems, earlier, in the matter of how you came to be a slave, you did not speak the truth.'
'No, Master.'
