Hannibal's Elephant Girl. Charley Brindley

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СКАЧАТЬ raised his hand, stopping Calogo. He looked out at the flat sea, frowning at the lack of waves, then nodded.

      We stood, and I hurried to go with Calogo, but then I realized Tin Tin was not coming with us. When I tuned back, she was standing at Hannibal’s table. He had spent the last part of the night indulging two girls’ insatiable curiosity, and I knew he had much more important things to do than entertain us. I ran back and grabbed her hand to pull her away, but she resisted.

      “Hannibal,” Tin Tin said, “someday you will teach this words,” she pointed at the open scroll, “to Liada.” She looked at me and grinned. “And maybe Tin Tin Ban Sunia little bit also, too?”

      “Thank you, Hannibal.” I stepped back, pulling Tin Tin’s hand until both our arms stretched out at full length. “For telling us the story of Helen. We’ll go help Calogo now.”Tin Tin’s feet seemed rooted the deck; I couldn’t budge her. “Tin Tin,” I whispered. “Come on.”

      “Wait, Liada,” Hannibal said. “When the sun is highest,” he gestured toward the top of the mast, “and you see that Dorien has finished his tasks with me, go with him to the shade of the awning, and he will begin to teach you the Greek letters.” He stood and began rolling up the scroll. “But remember, all your duties must be done first.”

      Tin Tin grinned at him as I yanked her away. “Thank you, Hannibal,” I said over my shoulder. “We will watch for Dorien when all our duties are finished.”

      Calogo had gone ahead of us to start working, but on our way to check on Obolus, we saw Rocrainum, Hannibal’s lieutenant, coming toward us.

      “Good morning, Rocrainum,” I said to the tall Carthaginian.

      “Good morning, Liada.” He smiled at Tin Tin. “Good morning, Tin Tin Ban Sunia.”

      “Morning, Lord Rocrainum,” Tin Tin said.

      “I still can’t get used to hearing you speak.”

      “My speak not good.”

      “Oh, you talk very well.”

      Rocrainum was a member of the aristocracy and very handsome man of about twenty, but he was never haughty or arrogant. He was commander of the twenty soldiers on board, and whenever he was not busy with his official duties, he would always chat with us as if we were part of his own class. Something he never did with anyone other than Hannibal.

      “Do you think we’ll have the wind today?” I asked.

      He looked around at the clear blue sky and calm sea. “I doubt it. If the wind doesn’t come up at dawn, it usually doesn’t come at all.”

      “You have breakfast by now?” Tin Tin asked.

      “Not yet.”

      “We bring you food from below deck.”

      “Good, but first I must speak with Hannibal. Have you seen him?”

      “He over stand by Turanyu.” Tin Tin pointed her chin toward the bow of the ship.

      “All right.” He left us.

      We watched him walk toward the bow. He wore a knee-length tunic like Hannibal’s, but tan in color, rather than red. Unlike Hannibal, he was armed with a long sword. This heavy weapon was scabbarded on an iron-studded leather belt.

      We ran to check on Obolus.

Chapter Two

      It was dim and stuffy below deck, without even a whiff of fresh air coming through the scuttles. The stink rising from the bilge was almost overwhelming. I tried to hold my breath or breathe through my mouth, but still my stomach rolled and I felt as if I would throw up.

      Earlier, up on the top deck, when Calogo had told me and Tin Tin he was going to carry water to Obolus and Turanyu, I suggested Tin Tin should help him.

      “While you two care for the animals, I’ll start giving water to the slaves.”

      Neither of them voiced any complaint about that arrangement, and I thought it might be nice for them to have some time together. They could come help me when they finished with the elephant and horse.

      Most of the slaves were silent as they watched me carry the heavy wooden bucket along the narrow board that ran down the center of the compartment. The springy plank, barely wide enough for a person’s feet, lay across the beams supporting the two banks of rowers. Each bank consisted of three staggered rows of slaves. Some of the men groaned in agony as they bent their backs, straining hard to pull the heavy oars. There were three men to an oar and they wore only ragged loincloths.

      The close space, packed with sweating bodies, was also filled with sound; the moans of the slaves, the oars creaking in the rowlocks, and the synchronized splashing of the oar blades cutting the water, all in perfect rhythm with the hortator’s drumbeat. This man sat in front of the eighty slaves, next to the scowling slave master.

      The drum was made from a section of hollow log, the size of an earthen kettle, with pigskin stretched over the top. The little man beat out the cadence of the slaves’ never-ending labor. The hortator’s pounding, like an evil heart pumping misery rather than blood, drove the ship relentlessly forward.

      Boom, boom, boom-paboom, boom, boom, boom-paboom...

      Even though their wrists were chained to the oars, the men were able to continue rowing with one hand as they took my water bowl and drank thirstily, sometimes saving a bit of their water allotment to pour over their heads.

      Most of the slaves whispered a furtive ‘thank you’ to me, but some sneered and bared their teeth, as if I were the cause of their misery. Perhaps the slave mark branded into my face softened some of their hearts toward me.

      I wasn’t a slave, but I carried the mark by my own choosing because my friend Tin Tin Ban Sunia was once a slave and the evil Sulobo had seared his brand into the side of her face. I glanced at him as he sat beside his drummer; he stared at me. I looked away and dipped more water.

      Tin Tin was no longer his slave. Yzebel had purchased her from Sulobo, then set her free to sail with me to Iberia. This, too, was another thorn in Sulobo’s side, which he blamed on me.

      I was saddened to think of Yzebel. She had done so much for me, and I didn’t know if I would ever see her again. She took me in when I was lost and alone, teaching me how to trade for goods and how to cook. And something else: She gave me character and pride when I had none.

      She paid three gold coins, plus a silver one, for Tin Tin, then she treated us both as her daughters, even though she had two sons of her own to worry about.

      Helen of Troy might have been the most beautiful woman in the world, but Yzebel was more than beautiful; she was at once teacher, protector, provider…and she loved us all, no matter what.

      Lost in my thoughts, I had forgotten about Horus, the Egyptian slave. Calogo had warned me to stay clear of him, and to give his drinking water to another slave, to be passed along to him. But while thinking of Yzebel, I had set my bucket down, dipped water into the drinking bowl, and leaned across the first man to offer a drink to Horus. Without warning, Horus grabbed my arm, wrenched the bowl СКАЧАТЬ