Within a few weeks most of the rest of the cottages were rehabilitated and inhabited. The slaves worked tirelessly often late into the night. Some of the items needed to repair the cottages and furnish them were produced by the slaves themselves. The building materials for the most part were scavenged from the collapsed structures of the villa but things like the clay roofing tiles were their own creation. An old shed contained a potter wheel, forms for roofing tiles and a kiln. These had not been used in many years and it was Jack who seemed to know the most about their use. This had Sam intrigued but Jack just smiled. When enough tiles were produced for their own use some were made to see if they could be sold at market. And again after producing enough pieces of crockery, mugs and plates were made for sale. With the profits they procured clothing and household furnishings.
The cottages had small front yards which were now filled with colorful wild flowers dug up from the hedgerows and in the backyards there sprung up vegetable gardens, or dove cotes or chicken coops. Villa Fecunda became a beehive of activity and prosperity.
The other noticeable difference in the lives of the slaves was the increase in the own fertility. They no longer feared for what kind of life their offspring might face and also they had the privacy to procreate. But for Sam and Jack the cottage gave them the opportunity to give each other a little distance. They had finally come to agree that distance was the last thing they wanted from one another but until this mission was over it was the only acceptable course of action. Discussing the subject was a bit awkward.
"It's not even regs. or our careers that have me concerned right now. My desk has been cleared out and some one else is sitting behind it. We have been listed as MIA for months now and if anyone is actively searching for us, they are doing it against direct orders. We are on our own here to find our way home and to live out our own lives. Sam, do you have any idea how much I want to…those contraceptive shot may have lost their potency but I haven't. I'll not have my son born a slave." Her eyebrows shot up.
"Could be a daughter."
"Not here, not what these fool think of women. Home Sam, when we get home." He put a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Jack had a difficult time sleeping that night, images swirled in his mind so gruesome that he and the others that witnessed it never said a word. On their last trip to market past the crossroads, there was a new body hanging from the cross. At his feet was the body of a woman torn apart by dogs but unmistakable was her very pregnant belly. The scenario was simple to discern. They ran away, she slowed them down, he wouldn't leave her and they all died. He couldn't sleep. He had to get her home; he had to keep her safe.