The Scribe(116)
“I saw Izam. He told me that your lands are excellent.”
“Yes… though I don’t know how they can be excellent if I don’t even know how to work them,” she lamented.
“You appear to have two good hands.”
“And little else. What good are those fields to me if I have no tools, no animals?”
“In that case, you could lease it and obtain an income.”
“Izam suggested the same thing. But to whom? Those who could afford it already have more than enough land.”
“Find someone who will work it in exchange for part of the crop.”
“Izam proposed that, too, but he explained that those folks do not possess plows or oxen, so they would not be able to work the land and generate a profit.”
“All right. Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Tomorrow is Thursday. After Terce we’ll go to the market, find a hardworking slave and buy him for your lands. There are tons of them, so we might get a good price.”
Theresa could not believe what she was hearing. It felt like her life was growing more complicated by the moment. If she did not even have enough for herself, how could she own a slave?
Alcuin admitted to her that Charlemagne had already suggested this possibility, then Alcuin assured her that keeping a slave did not have to be expensive.
The next morning they left early for the camp that the king’s men had set up on the outskirts of the city. According to Alcuin, the slave traders used the monarch’s visits as an opportunity to conduct business, whether buying captured enemies who had been enslaved or selling some of their best slaves. However, after a few days, the traders reduced their prices in order to get rid of the less sought-after individuals.
“Twelve solidi?” Theresa’s hands went to her mouth. “But you could buy three oxen for that!”
Alcuin explained that it was the usual price for a young, well-trained slave, but if they hunted around they might find one for cheaper. When Theresa told him how much money she had, Alcuin showed her a bulging pouch.
“I could lend you some.”
As they walked toward the walls, Alcuin spoke to her of the responsibility that came with owning slaves. “It’s not just a matter of giving orders and them obeying you,” he explained. “Believe it or not, slaves are God’s creatures, too, and as such we must ensure their well-being. And this includes feeding them, clothing them, and educating them as good Christians.”
Theresa looked at him in surprise. In Constantinople she had grown up surrounded by slaves who she had always considered as creatures of God, but she had never imagined that owning one could result in so many problems. When Alcuin explained that owners were also responsible for the crimes committed by their slaves, she became even more alarmed.
“That’s why it’s best not to buy them young—when they are agile and strong, but also rebellious and irresponsible. Unless you are prepared to take a whip to them, you are better off finding one that is married with children—so he won’t attempt to escape or cause problems. Yes, the best thing to do is find a family that will work hard and generate a profit for you.”
He added that even if she found a hard worker, she would have to keep a close eye on him because, by nature, slaves were short on brains.
“I don’t know if I need a slave,” Theresa finally admitted. “I don’t even know if I should have one.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t understand why one person should rule over the life of another. Have these poor wretches not been baptized?”
“I don’t suppose most of them have, no. But even if they were, and even though original sin disappears upon baptism, it is right that God decides the life of men, making some slaves and others lords. By nature, slaves have a tendency toward evil, which is repressed by the power of their possessor. If a slave did not know fear, what would prevent him from acting treacherously?”
Theresa considered replying, but decided to put an end to the conversation in which she had no real arguments or ideas.
They soon reached the gates and the rancid smell of sweat announced their arrival at the slave market. Stalls lined the river in a succession of shabby tents of various sizes, where slaves milled around like livestock. The younger ones were chained to thick stakes driven into the ground, while the older ones submissively went about their cleaning and maintenance tasks around the camp. As the monk passed them, several traders rushed to offer him their wares.
“Take a look at this one,” said a trader riddled with pockmarks. “Strong as a bull. He will carry your loads and protect you on your travels. Or would you prefer a boy?” he whispered, noting Alcuin’s indifference. “Sweet as honey and willing as a puppy.”
Alcuin gave him a look that the trader immediately understood, retreating with his tail between his legs. They continued to wander between the stalls, where all kinds of goods were on sale aside from the slaves.
“Ready-sharpened weapons!” cried one trader, showing off an arsenal of daggers and swords. “Send your enemies to hell in one slash.”
“Ointments for boils, poultices for riding sores!” announced another whose appearance suggested he needed them himself.
They passed the first stands and arrived at the enclosure where animals were being sold. Horses, cattle, and goats wandered about with more freedom that the slaves they had just seen. Alcuin stopped to inspect an ox as big as a mountain. The animal was grazing behind a wall with a batch of cheese resting on top of it.