Rome in Flames by Kathy Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

him. But quite often he was awake and willing to talk.
    When I asked him, he told me about his life before he became a slave. ‘You and me, we’re not like the rest of the slaves,’ he said. ‘They were born to it – their mothers were slaves. They don’t know any other way of life, and even though they grumble, they don’t mind it too much.’
    Tiro had been born in a southern land far across the sea, so distant that his people had not heard of the Romans. He had never seen a white-skinned man, just as I, in Britain, had never seen a dark-skinned one. His tribe lived by hunting the animals that grazed on the hot, dusty plains.
    I asked him what kind of animals they were, and he tried to describe them. Some sounded rather like the deer we used to hunt in the forests, but others seemed very strange. Creatures that looked like oxen but could run like horses; animals with necks as long as a spear; huge, heavy creatures with tails attached to their heads.
    Was he making this up? Or was my shaky grasp of Latin getting me confused? He must have seen the look of doubt on my face.
    â€˜It’s all true,’ he said. ‘If you go to the Games, you’ll see them for yourself.’
    I asked him how he came to be in Rome.
    â€˜When I was a young man, with a wife and baby son, there came a time without any rain. All the rivers dried up. The animal herds roamed far across the land, looking for water, and we followed them. We went into the lands of a different tribe, our enemies. But what else could we do? If we had stayed in our own land, we would have died of hunger and thirst.’
    There was a war between the tribes. In the fierce fighting, most of Tiro’s friends were killed and the rest were captured.
    â€˜I was sold to a tribe further north. Then I was sold again to a slave dealer. I don’t know what happened to my wife and baby. Probably they are dead. But if he’s still alive, my son must be about the same age as you.’
    I understood the look of longing in his eyes. He had lost his family, and I had lost mine.
    Tiro was taken to Rome – a long journey through deserts, down a river valley and over the sea. By then, he knew there was no way he could ever find his home again. He was sold in the slave market. His new master was big and fat, needing strong slaves to carry him on his couch whenever he went out.
    â€˜What was he like?’ I asked.
    â€˜He was a bad master,’ said Tiro, scowling at the memory. ‘If you stumbled while you were carrying his couch, he would have you whipped. If you got old or sick, he would sell you. If you tried to escape, you’d be branded for life.’
    He touched a mark on his forehead. It was an old scar which I’d noticed before, three lines making a shape like this:
    Â 
    F
    â€˜ Fugitatus ,’ Tiro said.
    I asked him what it meant. He never got annoyed by my endless questions. If I didn’t understand a new word, he would try to explain it, helping me to learn the language.
    â€˜It means a slave who keeps running away. So take care, Bryn. Next time, this could happen to you.’
    â€˜Not me,’ I said.
    â€˜You mean, next time they won’t catch you? That’s what everyone thinks. I ran away twice. They caught me both times. My old master said that if I did it again, he’d sell me to an ergastulum .’
    Another word I didn’t know. ‘A prison farm,’ Tiro explained. ‘They keep slaves in chains and treat them like animals. Terrible places.’
    â€˜But you did get away,’ I said.
    â€˜Not by escaping. The old master died, and all his slaves were sold. I was lucky to be bought by Lucius, our master. He looks after his slaves. He only punishes them when they deserve it.’
    Maybe. But even a good master didn’t make me content to be a slave. I was still determined to run away.
    Hesitating, stumbling over words I didn’t know, I told Tiro of my