Danae looked up. The theater was built onto the side of a hill, smatterings of trees peppering the land around it. At the top, guarded by more walls—like a small city in itself—was the acropolis. The royal palace and surrounding buildings presided over the rest of Athens from its height, and at the very peak was the new Temple of Athena.
Danae could see why Philemon had waxed lyrical about this building. It was magnificent. A temple six times the size of Demeter’s back on Naxos, its polished pillars, thick as ancient oaks, stood proud against the blue sky. It was said to be the most expensive temple ever constructed and it was dedicated to Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom and Warfare.
The rest of the city was hidden on the other side of the acropolis hill, though Danae could hear it. The air was thick with the cries of street peddlers, children, smiths, fishmongers, butchers, the rumble of carts, people eating and drinking outside numerous kapeleia and so many more sounds she couldn’t decipher.
There was something different about the air here too. Something was missing from the mix of hot stone, horses and the sweet scent of the forest.
It was the sea.
That fresh, salty tang that had been constant her whole life was gone.
“Follow him,” the large man barked and pointed after Kakos as he strode up onto the stage.
Danae breathed in sharply as they trudged after the flesh dealer onto the wooden platform. There was barely a seat unfilled on the benches fanning out above her. Hundreds of people sat upon them, pointing down at the stage and talking amongst themselves. She spotted Memnos, the cheese merchant, in the front row. No doubt waiting to collect his coins after her sale.
She and her group were not the only slaves being auctioned that day. A couple of other people stood further downstage, also in chains, escorted by a man she presumed was another flesh merchant.
She noticed two guards at either side of the stage, identical in their bronze armor and blue cloaks, embroidered with the twelve-pointed sun. There were more dotted throughout the seating. She glanced behind her and saw that another two guards had appeared behind the stage.
Her hope of escape shrank to barely a flicker.
A tall youth was being unchained at the front of the stage. His flesh dealer pushed him forward.
“Do I have five drachmas for this strong fellow?” The man slapped a hand on the lad’s shoulder.
Several men stood, raising their hands and calling their bids.
“Six, seven, eight, nine...ten. Ten to the man in the green tunic, last chance—”
“Eleven.”
The crowd murmured. But no more bids were made.
“Eleven drachmas! Going once, going twice... Sold!”
One of the guards stepped forward and pulled the youth toward a small stone building at the side of the stage. An elderly man in a white tunic began to make his way down the seating to collect his purchase.
Next, a young girl was brought forward. She was trembling. As the bidding began, Danae noticed a pool of wet around her bare feet. It was barbaric. She was only a child.
Her gaze slid beyond the girl into the crowd and settled on a figure in a hooded, charcoal cloak. The men on either side sat slightly apart, as though they found the person’s presence unsettling. The figure’s hood was pulled low, the face beneath hidden in its depths and the hands encased in black leather gloves. For a wild moment Danae wondered if there was a person under there at all.
“Sold to the man in brown.”
She’d been so distracted by the cloaked stranger she’d missed the bidding.
A guard moved forward to take the girl away, but she stayed rooted, shaking like a sapling in a gale. After a moment he threw her over his shoulder and carried her off the stage.
Kakos pointed his whip toward Danae. “She can go first.”
The large man unlocked her cuff, and Kakos dragged her forward. This was the moment. She was finally free of her chain, but there was nowhere to run. The heat of hundreds of eyes bore into her. The air smelled of fear and piss. She blinked away budding tears and imagined she was made of iron. Cold, immovable iron. She would not let them see her cry.
Kakos circled, squeezing her shoulders.
“A young woman of childbearing age,” he called to the crowd. “In the peak of physical health. You’ll get many years out of this one and you can work her hard—do I have five drachmas?”
A squat, balding man raised his hand.
“Excellent! Do I have six?”
