The Birth Of The Beta

17. LOVE AND LIBERTY

The lighthouse towered over the port as Pepin and Aoife strolled by it, the flame roared rambunctiously to warn the ships at sea to keep a respectful distance from nature’s teeth. Sailors on the corbita were staggering up and down the plank, some from the weight of the cargo they were off loading, whilst others were suffering from the symptoms of over indulging in too much wine. The ship was full of IRIS eyes, and the repeated dotted pattern made it look like a lady bird sitting in the refreshing water. The sails of each ship were huge and decorative like the wings of a butterfly attached to its wooden body. Aoife continued to walk along the cobbled path keeping her eye on the progress of the main ship: the galley. There wasn’t anything particularly beautiful about the galley, it was mainly a war ship. It was a fearsome wooden vessel. If the corbita was a ladybird, then the galley was a crustaceous centipede. Its legs stretched across the sea, wading through the water at a terrifying speed, and the wood was crusty because the barnacles had clung to its body after the long sea voyage. The red sail stretched out like flayed skin, warning enemies of its deadly potential. Neve winced at the sight of it, like she always did, she was chilled by the memories of the first galley she had ever seen.

Pepin’s eyes paid little attention to the detail of the galley, but rather the line of wolves who were walking down the plank, each with a silver metal bangle round their wrists, and glistening in sweat. Their faces were impassive, as if they had seen so much horror it had washed the shock of anymore away. A soldier who was pulling the chain that connected them together led them to a platform where the letters ‘H U M A N A U C T I O N’ were chiselled into the stone wall behind them. A more senior guard who took over the column of wolves. He was draped in his crimson robe, and his long plaited whip trailed on the ground behind him, like a snake leaving a trail of blood in his wake. The orator was standing on the platform in his white robe, the pure colour contrasted with his dirty work. He was nudged from his thoughts by Aoife, who held her hand out for the money Cornelius had given him, which he directly placed in her hand. He couldn’t understand why she would need money if the wolves at Heaton House were free. Aoife’s face was inscrutable as she picked up a wooden paddle, and stood at the front of the crowd. Contrastingly, Pepin’s features were agitated as he glared at the crowd who were openly displeased to be in the same company as two free wolves. Suddenly, the orator shouted the first bid out and the crowd bustled like a nest of ants, reaching over each other to outbid their neighbour. The excitement was sickening. Aoife had bid on each person who was presented, but once the bid went over two hundred sestertii, she would withdraw from the offering.

Following three unsuccessful bids, a man was brought on stage. He was tall, although a wolf of no high rank, he was muscular and intimidating. Muscles rippled under the surface of his skin, his hair was worn in dark, thick, twists and there was such a copious amount of it that it trailed across his back and over onto his chest. It was clear his predominant upper arm strength had been built by pulling the oars on the galley. Unlike the previous men, the man on the stage was a little older, seemingly in his late twenties. It was difficult to ascertain because his facial hair was wild and knotted with filth. Aoife placed her first offer at two hundred and there was no counter challenge, after the others had seen the grit on her face. The wolf was brought to her immediately, and Aoife mind linked Pepin to cut the rope constricting his wrists. The silver had already been removed before he went on the stage.

The next wolves that Aoife was determined to save were a mother and her child. The she-wolf was dressed in an indecent outfit that was cut down to her navel, her arm wrapped around her front to shield herself from the greedy eyes of the audience, but her other arm was tucking her child behind her protecting him with her body. Dirty and threadbare, the little boy’s tunic poked out from behind his mother’s thigh, his greasy hair was too heavy to flap in the breeze.

“The next two items will be sold separately,” the orator began.

“NO!” The woman screamed, clutching at her child, but the only slight reaction came from Aoife, who clenched her jaw and gripped her paddle.

The auctioneer simply continued, ignoring any interruptions, deaf to cries of anguish.

“First in the collection is the female-wolf, a fine body and attractive enough for an unfussy customer, fertile with the potential to be used as a breeder for anyone wanting to replace their stock. I’ll start the bid at one hundred and fifty sestertii!”

Like fireballs being launched back and forth by two enemy camps, the bidding war began, heckles became even more threatening. Aoife was focussed and unrelenting, the coins were being added to the total like arrows launched at the rivals, until Aoife aimed for the final victory. Letting her winning total pierce through the armour of the hostile crowd.

“Two thousand sestertii!” She bellowed, and the gavel hit the block. The woman was practically thrown off the stage, leaving her little boy there like prey among scavengers.

“Please, mistress, take my little boy too, I’ll be the best slave, just save him please!” She wept.

“I’ll try, and I’m not your mistress,” Aoife replied, soothing the panic.

The little boy was pushed to the edge of the stage, his tearful eyes never drifting from his mother’s face. The bidding was more reserved for the sale of the child, so Aoife pretended to be nonchalant about the welfare of the infant. She waited until the auctioneer started to countdown for the last bid, before she shouted out her own proffer.

“One thousand sestertii!”

Silence. The entire crowd stared at her with overt antipathy. They were conflicted, nobody wanted to pay that much for a child, but the affront of the meddlesome she-wolf was intolerable. Pepin stepped forward, becoming a single barrier between Aoife and danger. Clovis let out a low rumble of warning, a promise of death if any of them dared to attack her. A haughtily older man stepped forward with a smug expression.

“One thousand one hundred sestertii!” he called out, while staring at the unusually challenging group of wolves.

Pepin could feel the distress and panic saturate their mate bond.

“What’s wrong?” He linked her.

“Going once...” The announcer called.

“We have no more money!” She admitted.

“Going twice!” The orator glanced at the crowd.

“I’m going to be responsible for separating a mother from her child,” She stressed, her voice lightly cracking.

“Sol-“Began the auctioneer.

“One thousand three hundred sestertii. And let that be the end of it!” Pepin yelled, a hint of menace in his growl as he grabbed the paddle from Aoife’s hand. Most of the crowd were unsure if he was holding the paddle to show them his weapon, or to indicate the last bid had been made. The glare he fixed on the other buyers suggested it was the former. Nobody dared challenge him. Pepin was annoyed that they had been so aggressive towards Aoife, who could have killed all of them in less than five minutes, but they were submissive to him, who would have needed much longer to annihilate them.

Running into his mother’s arms, the boy laughed with relief, while the she-wolf rocked him in her arms.

“Where did that money come from?” Aoife asked, knowing she had used everything that Cornelius had given him.

“It’s mine, from a new arrangement I made,” Pepin replied, and Aoife launched herself into his arms, astounded that he would do that, to ease her conscience.

Pepin nuzzled into her neck where his mark was, their two wolves’ foreheads were touching as if locked in a deep connection, and it was here he left a gentle nip of love. She kissed his cheekbone before pulling away. Her smile was the only light that Pepin could see in this dark, miserable market. She gently coughed to clear her throat, before resuming the next part of their mission.

“Take them to our cart, give them the food that we have, and you will find another basket with an array of clothes for them to choose from,” Aoife told Pepin, before she turned towards the guards’ table to handle the proof of purchase papers. Pepin loathed the idea of not guarding her, but did as she instructed.

The woman and her child both looked exhausted. She dragged her limbs like they were made of stone. She was a marble statue coming to life. Pepin reached down to pick up the filthy boy, who was fighting not to blink as sleep threatened to carry him away each time his eyes closed. The other man looked more intrigued than tired, curious about what would happen next. As instructed, Pepin found them food and some clothes. He managed to fill up a small bucket with water from the well so they could clean off most of the grime that was covering them. By the time Aoife returned, she was carrying three scrolls in her arms and a huge smile on her face, which seemed out of place given the situation they were in.

“Please follow me,” She requested, and the group did so like a line of ducklings.

Pausing at the water edge with her curious audience staring at her, she pointed at the barge. The barge had always been Aoife’s favourite ship since the first time Cornelius had brought her here. It reminded her of a grasshopper. It was made to carry goods up the river, so it was long and thin. The wood was well looked after due to the gentler conditions of the river. It was like the smooth wings of a grasshopper and the shorter legs on the boat were incredibly powerful, covering great distances in very little time.

“My name is Aoife, I am the gladiator trainer in the House of Heaton. We are the only Ludus in the area who don’t keep wolves as slaves, but do provide a wage for any wolf that chooses to live and work for us, be that as a gladiator or housemaid. In my hand are your property scrolls, in my pocket are your freedom scrolls,” Aoife took a moment to allow all the information to be absorbed by the shocked listeners. She stretched out her arm, holding the property scrolls over the water, and let them fall in. The sound of the sea swallowing the vile parchment didn’t equate to the huge weight the wolves felt lift as the documentation of their eternal bondage sunk to the sea floor.

“You now have some decisions to make. You are free wolves and either choice you make will be the correct one. If you want to stay here and work in Heaton House as a gladiator or a housemaid, you are more than welcome, and we will look forward to working with you. If you want to return to the life that was stolen from you, then this barge will take you there. It has been paid for by Cornelius Heaton and we will wish you all the best on your journey home,” Aoife concluded.

Pepin could count on one hand the number of times he had been surprised by genuine generosity. This counted as one of those times. The she-wolf held her palm across her mouth and her eyes popped slightly, a huge frown creased her forehead as she tried to decipher the truth in Aoife’s words. The wolf had an equally shocked expression, raising one critical eyebrow to ascertain if he was being tricked or not. Eventually, he took a deep breath and spoke for the first time.

“My name is Madla, the soldiers who came defeated my pack, and took my home land. There is no home for me, so I’ll see this place you speak of.” Madla said, magnanimously.

He was hopeful for a new start, even though the pain of slavery was his reality less than an hour ago, he chose to put his faith in this unusual female Beta. Aoife handed him his freedom scroll while Pepin shook his hand.

The she-wolf’s eyes darted between the barge and Aoife, she ran her fingers through her son’s hair, and the nervous tension was flowing through her with more strength than the waves hit the barge.

“Do you want to return home?” Aoife smiled reassuringly.

“My mate is still there, our pack hid in the mountains when the soldiers came. The humans couldn’t see us there. My son wandered down and I followed. We were caught and put straight on to the galley. I know my mate is calling for me, I can feel it through the bond and I have an older daughter there who needs…”

“You don’t have to explain. Whatever your choices are, they are yours to make,” Aoife interrupted her. “Before you go, what are your names?” She asked.

“My name is Tashi. It means good luck. You have been my luck today. My son’s name is Banzan,” She answered. Aoife handed the freedom scrolls to Tashi, and explained she was to show them if she was stopped for any reason. They climbed into the barge, still agog at their good fortune. Waving until they became dots in the distance, Aoife sighed contentedly and returned to the cart, relieved to be returning home.