Chapter 21
"He says he knows of a house that may be for rent," Daniel told the others as they waited near the deep fresh water spring that served the five small villages which would one day become the city of Megara.
Methos glanced up from fixing his sandal strap and looked toward the man in question. A slave. And by the look of it, one sent to fetch water for the household.
"Tell him to finish serving his mistress then come back and show us. We'll wait."
A few moments later Daniel returned. "He says it's on the way and he lives in the next village over. He won't be able to come back."
A likely story, Methos thought lacing up his sandal again, but it could be true. Either the man didn't wish to lose the chance at whatever coin he'd earn for his small service, or his mistress was one of those women who swore by the healthfulness of spring water. He'd known one Roman matron who would send a dozen slaves with carts to bring enough water for the entire family to use every day. Which might have been sane if the fool had thought to give some to her chefs for the food, rather than using it exclusively for bathing. Lead from the pipes which carried water into the city from the great aqueduct had poisoned thousands.
"All right," Methos nodded. "We'll follow. Just let me get the others."
They gathered up the few things they'd removed from the packs for their morning meal then Methos lifted Carter back onto the donkey. Like all women traveling she was wrapped head to toe in swaths of linen.
"Almost there," he told her softly. She was hot and tired as they all were, but the restrictions imposed on the major by this culture were definitely getting on her nerves. A normally even tempered woman, she'd been snapping at everyone since they'd come out of the mountains three days earlier. They'd all agreed to get her laptop out of storage as soon as they were safely indoors.
O'Neill and Teal'c brought up the horses while he took charge of the donkey and Daniel walked beside the slave chatting amiably. Methos watched in silence, wondering absently if the boy knew the kind of gift he offered this man. Or maybe it was torture, to be treated for a brief time as a man and not a piece of chattel. In any case, he doubted Daniel understood what he was doing. The archaeologist in him would probably be more fascinated by the wealth of knowledge the man's presence offered and he'd be up half the night scribbling notes in his journal. Not that Methos couldn't have offered him the same information, but like any good scientist he wanted corroboration from a variety of sources.
They reached the house which was down the narrow lane from the owner's, a man whose brother had once lived there with his wife and two children according to the slave. The man had gone out fishing one morning about a month ago and not returned after a storm. As was customary, the care of the wife, her children and all her spouse's property had gone to the husband's nearest male relative.
Methos handed the slave a small sliver of bronze, cut from a much larger coin and given as change from an earlier purchase. It was enough to buy a good meal, or a cheap pair of sandals and he popped it in his mouth to hide under his tongue. With a nod of thanks the slave took off, seeming to carry his burden a little more lightly as he called to someone in the owner's house that custom, or trade awaited at their door.
The owner, a man called Theophrates, a dealer in fish oils, came out a few minutes later to unlatch the door and show Methos the house. It was a typical home for the times. Two large rooms sectioned off into numerous small chambers with a low walled courtyard in the back where there were pens for the goats and chickens. The kitchen was a tiny room off the courtyard with a good sized oven, though now that it was summer most of the cooking would be done outdoors. The place came furnished with a few old pieces and at the cost of one drachma a month it was more than a little steep.
"We may not need it for a month," Methos explained. "My family and I seek passage to the island of Crete."
"Crete?" Theophrates asked, surprised. "You won't find any here to take you that far. Those who were going even half such a distance have long since gone. And none that I know of have ever traveled there."
Methos nodded, he'd expected as much and the others knew it as well. The only way to get there would be to island hop from Megara to Salamis, or maybe Aigina, and from there down the rest of the Attic coast. They'd need to winter on Crete, but from there they could easily obtain passage to Egypt.
Without explaining his business to the man, Methos made him an offer. "I will pay you one third that for two weeks. If we find passage to the islands before then you may keep the rest. If not then I will pay you by the week."
"One month full payment at my original price," he countered. "In addition to which, I will send a slave to clean the house and cook two meals a day. If you leave before the two weeks are up I will return one quarter of the money. If you stay longer, it will be the same arrangement monthly until you leave."
Methos considered the offer. It was fair and the food might just be edible.
"Done," Methos agreed and pulled out the coin. "Send the slave in the morning. My sister will oversee her work."
"As you wish," Theophrates nodded, accepting the coin then politely wished him well in his search for a ship before leaving.
"All set," Methos grinned as he rejoined the others. "There's a courtyard around back where we can keep the animals," he added, leading the way.
"It's a little cramped," O'Neill commented as they entered through the kitchen. Everyone but Samantha had to duck in order to get inside, and Teal'c had to keep his shoulders hunched in order to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.
"It is what it is," Methos shrugged. "Of course, if you're not happy with it there's always the other alternative."
"Which is?" O'Neill asked suspiciously.
"I'm sure one of the local brothels would be pleased to let us a room, though it might be small and rather noisy from time to time."
"There aren't any hotels," Daniel reminded him quietly as O'Neill glowered.
"And this place comes with a bonus," Methos explained as he showed them the rest of the house. "Theophrates is going to send someone to cook and clean for us."
Daniel stared at him, appalled. "You got us a slave?"
Methos raised an eyebrow at that. "It's a big house. Would you rather Major Carter do all the work?"
Samantha shoved back her mantle and frowned. "Major Carter would have preferred that you consult her first before deciding to help her out, Captain!"
"And if we were anywhere but here I would have," Methos acknowledged soothingly. "But here we are and there you have it."
"I do not need or want a slave!" she stated angrily.
"Fine," he told her coolly. "Then you cook and clean while she sleeps in the corner. Feed her three meals a day if you like and it assuages your conscience. But don't complain to me when the local housewives beat you bloody for showing them up to their men folk. They like having slaves."
"We can all work," O'Neill announced trying to be diplomatic. "Just like before."
"Are you out of your mind?" Methos asked. "If you think the women are bad just wait until the men come after us for daring to upset the natural order. The Megarans may be a little more cosmopolitan than their country cousins, but not by much."
"But-" Daniel began.
"No!" Methos declared, having heard enough. "No more complaints! I told you all there were things you'd have to do that you weren't going to like. Well, consider this one of them."
"He did indeed warn us," Teal'c reminded them. "And this world is not unlike many others we have visited," he added quietly. "But with one difference. These people are long since dead and forgotten in our time. Therefore, anything we do here cannot be held against us. We did not enslave them. Perhaps it would be well to think of those who suffer as merely shadows of a past injustice long since overcome."
"Teal'c's right," O'Neill sighed, crossing his arms. "We all knew this might happen. So just suck it up and deal with it."
"Yes, sir," Carter answered quietly as Daniel nodded.
"Good. Now, let's get the gear unpacked and properly stowed. I don't want this girl coming across anything we don't want seen."
Methos heaved a silent sigh of relief as he went to help in the unpacking. He didn't really understand what all the fuss was about anyway. Yes, slavery was a terrible thing. It had always been terrible and everyone knew it, which was why no one wanted to be a slave. Of course, until the industrial revolution no one had ever taken the idea of completely ending slavery seriously either. As long as it happened to someone else the practice was considered a necessity. And it wasn't as if he'd gone out and made the purchase himself. The slave was just a loaner. A girl to help out around the house. Surely they'd all contacted a cleaning service from time to time and had someone come in to do the floors and laundry? He knew damn well that Carter ordered her groceries online and had them delivered to her apartment. Did she think the women who cleaned and the students who brought the food to her door and put it in her cabinets earned more than the equivalent of modern slave wages? They got just enough to keep a roof over their heads, food on the table and warm clothes on their backs with nothing left over for the luxury of having someone come to their house and clean their floors when they were tired from work.
It was all relative, Methos supposed as he removed the saddle bags from the horses. Payment in coin as opposed to a space in the corner and enough food to keep body and soul together meant modern children didn't have to trouble their consciences when the service personnel walked out the door and went home. Not to a nice, loft style condo in the city, but to a drab, run down apartment block in a marginally safe neighborhood, if they even had that. And did these children of the modern age think their temporary servants were any freer than slaves to pick up and go where they wanted? A few with courage and opportunity might throw caution to the wind and give up the security of even a low paying job. Most, he knew, were too afraid of ending up in far worse circumstances than before. The modern equivalent of slavery, he thought wryly, was euphemistically described as 'honest' work.
With a mental shrug of dismissal Methos gave up this line of thought. Carter could coddle the girl all she liked as long as the major made at least a token effort to have her work. And the others? Well, they would just have to deal with it in their own way and on their own time. He had more important business to worry over than someone else's conscience.
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