Olympus: It's Not Just a Game

Chapter 16

Jacob crept out of the fortress. Mr. Huber ran up to him. "What was that all about?" he shouted.

"Karl's gotten himself in trouble," his son replied.

"We already figured that out," his father answered, sarcastically. "What did they want you for?"

Jacob had a problem on his hands. How could he ever explain that whole scene in the forest? "It was nothing," he lied. "They, uh, just needed someone to identify him." They stared at him. "Yeah, that's it," he continued. "They made me swear to tell the truth and all that, and then they just asked me if I recognized anybody in the courtroom." He visualized the moment. "I pointed out Karl. That was about it."

"What happened next?" Nancy butted in. Jacob bit his lip, trying to think up a convincing lie. "What happened to Karl?"

"Oh, Karl," Jacob said. "Well, he was convicted."

"Convicted of what?" his father demanded.

"Theft. He stole some stuff," Jacob answered. "Like, that horse, remember?"

"Was he sentenced?" asked Mr. Avery.

"Yeah," Jacob answered. "He's going to be sold. They dragged him out of the courtroom, heading for the slave market."

"So what are we waiting for?" Nancy asked. "Hey, Benjamin, which way is the slave market?"

"Up there," Benjamin answered, pointing up the sloping street.

"Yeah, right," retorted Nancy, as they headed down the hill in the opposite direction.

The seaport was packed. Several grand galleys were pulled up along the docks, where slaves loaded cargo under the sharp eyes of soldiers. A crowd of half-naked beggars milled about, hoping that one of the crates or boxes might slip and spill some food onto the cobbles. Merchants and guards moved purposely about from point to point, while vendors and peddlers hawked their wares to the busy crowd. Several grim giants loomed head and shoulders above the milling tide of people, keeping order by their mere presence.

To the left was an ugly sight — a slave market. A platform loomed some six feet above the street, with a dozen wooden beams standing up where the slaves would be chained. Crude iron chains with heavy manacles were spiked into the beams to keep the merchandise secure. In front of the platform was a wooden box with comfortable seats and a brightly striped awning. "That's for the paying customers, I'll bet," Noah muttered.

It looked like a slave auction was due to start, soon. The vendors with the daintiest sweetmeats jockeyed for position near the striped pavilion. A troupe of jugglers began performing right in front of the slave platform. Elegantly dressed customers drifted in one by one.

Across the square, a sound of drums and pipes emerged from one of the galleys. A grossly fat man waddled down the gangplank. He was swathed in gaudy silks of a dozen different colors and designs. Jewels studded his tunic, and golden chains clinked with every move. He stepped into a litter carried by four slaves, who groaned beneath his bulk, then carried him across the crowded market to the slave pit. One look at his clothing revealed that he was immensely rich. One look at his face showed that he was also immensely cruel.

He took the chief seat in the buyers' box and clapped his hands. The auction began. One by one, eight prisoners were led up onto the platform and chained to the heavy wooden posts. Karl was the seventh. He looked wretched, but seeing his family and the Averys only made it worse. He buckled, and sagged in the chains like a dead man. The guard cuffed him with the butt end of a spear, and he floundered back up, a case study in misery and humiliation. They were much too far away to be able to speak to him. Mr. Huber tried to catch his eye, but Karl would not look.