Chapter 21
The Jaffa dragged O'Neill to the baths and would have tossed him in the pool if it weren't for the heavy chains. If he drown their lives would have been complicated if not forfeited. So they placed him by the side of the pool, took a blade and cut off his clothing and gave him over to the ministrations of the slave girls.
"He is to be presented to our lord Phaeton on this most auspicious feast. You will make him clean and dressed in the finest chiton and robe. And be quick about it."
The matron in charge was angry. Was she a worker of miracles? The man was filthy and on his naked body was evidence of recent torture, fresh cuts and bruises. She took pity on the burns on his wrists under the manacles.
She sent one girl for perfumed oils, and two other were assigned to wash him, while she thought where she could find suitable clothing at this late date. She was glad his hair was short but still feared to find lice. The prisons and slave class crawled with vermin, it was well known. Not the slaves at the baths of course. Her girls were clean. They had to be, they serviced most of the noble men who used the baths.
Well the task at hand was intriguing, would this man rise to power? If so she should show him kindness; if not, why bother. He was obviously a warrior - hard muscles rippled under scared skin. Would he be Phaeton's new champion? Right now she thought even she could best him in a match. He could not stand and listed precariously when they tried to sit him on a bench. She thought about shaving him but groomed his beginnings of a beard. Who knew if he would hurt her with the razor or himself?
From the look of the golden chains she wondered what Lord Phaeton thought of him – so strong that he need be bound or so disloyal or both. Why was he bound with such wealth? One link of that chain would buy her freedom and maybe that of her girls. This wealth which would free her from servitude bound him to almost immobility.
She forgot sandals and sent the girl returning with the scented oils for the largest ones she could find. He had big feet.
Men sought out her girls now. Once she was the one all the men asked for. She had grown old and had been placed in charge. But it hurt not to be the desire one. Life was still good, she ruled this small domain and her girls jumped when she gave orders. She feared the future when someone else would take over and she would have to fend for herself in her old age with no family and no friends. To be old and useless and tossed out like yesterdays trash and one gold link, just one link would provide so much.
He was washed and oiled and seemed to finally come somewhat to his senses. They had dared not use the strigil for all his wounds and bruises so a coarse cloth sufficed.
Many items were left at the baths, the matron was amazed what people would walk out without. Among the unclaimed debris one of her clever girls found a spotless chiton of fine weave, a simple broad leather belt and a pair of clasps to pin the chiton at his shoulders. The clasps were in the shape of the gods emblem, the rising sun. They looked good but were cheap with a mere thin gold wash over base metal.
She dabbed an unguent on his wrists and covered them with strips of cloths lest they soil his clothing. And finally the girls strapped on his sandals right as the Jaffa returned and marched him off to his destiny. He thanked them for their kindness.
As they left the matron mused that he was a fine looking man, the short, sleeveless chiton showed off strong arms and legs. A fine looking man indeed and she hoped Fate was kind to him. With every day that passed she had less and less hope for herself.