LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Did not thy grandfather tell thee I was once a slave?”

      “He often spoke of thee but never hinted of this.”

      “He was a man thou couldst trust with innermost secrets. Thou, too, are a man I may trust, am I not right?” Sharru Nada looked him squarely in the eye.

      “Thou mayest rely upon my silence, but I am amazed. Tell me how didst thou come to be a slave?”

      Sharru Nada shrugged his shoulders, “Any man may find himself a slave. It was a gaming house and barley beer that brought me disaster. I was the victim of my brother’s indiscretions. In a brawl he killed his friend. I was bonded to the widow by my fattier, desperate to keep my brother from being prosecuted under the law. When my father could not raise the silver to free me, she in anger sold me to the slave dealer.”

      “What a shame and injustice!” Hadan Gula protested. “But tell me, how didst thou regain freedom?”

      “We shall come to that, but not yet. Let us continue my tale. As we passed, the plowers jeered at us. One did doff his ragged hat and bow low, calling out, “Welcome to Babylon, guests of the King. He waits for thee on the city walls where the banquet is spread, mud bricks and onion soup.’ With that they laughed uproariously.

      “Pirate flew into a rage and cursed them roundly. ‘What do those men mean by the King awaiting us on the walls?’ I asked him.

      “To the city walls ye march to carry bricks until the back breaks. Maybe they beat thee to death before it breaks. They won’t beat me. I’ll kill ‘em.’

      “Then Megiddo spoke up, ‘It doesn’t make sense to me to talk of masters beating willing, hardworking slaves to death. Masters like good slaves and treat them well.”

      “‘Who wants to work hard?’ commented Zabado. ‘Those plowers are wise fellows. They’re not breaking their backs. Just letting on as if they be.’

      “‘Thou can’t get ahead by shirking,’ Megiddo protested. If thou plow a hectare, that’s a good day’s work and any master knows it. But when thou plow only a half, that’s shirking. I don’t shirk. I like to work and I like to do good work, for work is the best friend I’ve ever known. It has brought me all the good things I’ve had, my farm and cows and crops, everything.’

      “‘Yea, and where be these things now?’ scoffed Zabado. ‘I figure it pays better to be smart and get by without working. You watch Zabado, if we’re sold to the walls, he’ll be carrying the water bag or some easy job when thou, who like to work, will be breaking thy back carrying bricks.’ He laughed his silly laugh.

      “Terror gripped me that night. I could not sleep. I crowded close to the guard rope, and when the others slept, I attracted the attention of Godoso who was doing the first guard watch. He was one of those brigand Arabs, the sort of rogue who, if he robbed thee of thy purse, would think he must also cut thy throat.

      “‘Tell me, Godoso,’ I whispered, ‘when we get to Babylon will we be sold to the walls?’

      “‘Why want to know?’ he questioned cautiously.

      “‘Canst thou not understand?’ I pleaded. ‘I am young. I want to live. I don’t want to be worked or beaten to death on the walls. Is there any chance for me to get a good master?’

      “He whispered back, ‘I tell something. Thou good fellow, give Godoso no trouble. Most times we go first to slave market. Listen now. When buyers come, tell ‘em you good worker, like to work hard for good master. Make ‘em want to buy. You not make ‘em buy, next day you carry brick. Mighty hard work.’

      “After he walked away, I lay in the warm sand, looking up at the stars and thinking about work. What Megiddo had said about it being his best friend made me wonder if it would be my best friend. Certainly it would be if it helped me out of this.

      “When Megiddo awoke, I whispered my good news to him. It was our one ray of hope as we marched toward Babylon. Late in the afternoon we approached the walls and could see the lines of men, like black ants, climbing up and down the steep diagonal paths. As we drew closer, we were amazed at the thousands of men working; some were digging in the moat, others mixed the dirt into mud bricks. The greatest number were carrying the bricks in large baskets up those steep trails to the masons.

      “Overseers cursed the laggards and cracked bullock whips over the backs of those who failed to keep in line. Poor, worn-out fellows were seen to stagger and fall beneath their heavy baskets, unable to rise again. If the lash failed to bring them to their feet, they were pushed to the side of the paths and left writhing in agony. Soon they would be dragged down to join other craven bodies beside the roadway to await un-sanctified graves. As I beheld the ghastly sight, I shuddered. So this was what awaited my father’s son if he failed at the slave market.

      “Godoso had been right. We were taken through the gates of the city to the slave prison and next morning marched to the pens in the market. Here the rest of the men huddled in fear and only the whips of our guard could keep them moving so the buyers could examine them. Megiddo and myself eagerly talked to every man who permitted us to address him.

      “The slave dealer brought soldiers from the King’s Guard who shackled Pirate and brutally beat him when he protested. As they led him away, I felt sorry for him.

      “Megiddo felt that we would soon part. When no buyers were near, he talked to me earnestly to impress upon me how valuable work would be to me in the future: ‘Some men hate it. They make it their enemy. Better to treat it like a friend, make thyself like it. Don’t mind because it is hard. If thou thinkest about what a good house thou build, then who cares if the beams are heavy and it is far from the well to carry the water for the plaster. Promise me, boy, if thou get a master, work for him as hard as thou canst. If he does not appreciate all thou do, never mind. Remember, work, well-done, does good to the man who does it. It makes him a better man.’ He stopped as a burly farmer came to the enclosure and looked at us critically.

      “Megiddo asked about his farm and crops, soon convincing him that he would be a valuable man. After violent bargaining with the slave dealer, the farmer drew a fat purse from beneath his robe, and soon Megiddo had followed his new master out of sight.

      “A few other men were sold during the morning. At noon Godoso confided to me that the dealer was disgusted and would not stay over another night but would take all who remained at sundown to the King’s buyer. I was becoming desperate when a fat, good-natured man walked up to the wall and inquired if there was a baker among us.

      “I approached him saying, “Why should a good baker like thyself seek another baker of inferior ways? Would it not be easier to teach a willing man like myself thy skilled ways? Look at me, I am young, strong and like to work. Give me a chance and I will do my best to earn gold and silver for thy purse.”

      “He was impressed by my willingness and began bargaining with the dealer who had never noticed me since he had bought me but now waxed eloquent on my abilities, good health and good disposition. I felt like a fat ox being sold to a butcher. At last, much to my joy, the deal was closed. I followed my new master away, thinking I was the luckiest man in Babylon.

      “My new home was much to my liking. Nana-naid, my master, taught me how to grind the barley in the stone bowl that stood in the courtyard, how to build the fire in the oven and then how to grind very fine the sesame flour for the honey cakes. I had a couch in the shed where his grain was stored. The old slave housekeeper, Swasti, fed me well and was pleased at the way I helped her with the heavy tasks.

      “Here was the chance I had longed for to make myself valuable to my master and, I hoped, to find a way to earn my freedom.

      “I asked Nana-naid to show me how to knead the bread and to bake. This he did, much pleased at my willingness. Later, when I could do this well, I asked him to show me how to make the honey cakes, and soon I was doing all the baking. My master was glad to be idle, but Swasti shook her head in disapproval, ‘No work to do is bad for any man,’ she declared.

      “I felt it

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