My lips were dry and my throat felt parched as I lay on my belly on the cliffs overlooking the sea as turqoise as the beads that encircled my wrists. It was mid-day and I could feel the sun burning down mercilessly on my already tight feeling skin and my whole being wanted to jump up, race down the steep path and plunge into the waves, yet that would only alert my prey. I could see him approach, his little nutshell bobbing on the waters, looking almost helpless but still it steadily approached.

I could hear my stomach rumble, how long had it been since I had eaten? Too long, my mind rather unhelpfully supplied the memory of a lean little pheasant roasting over my campfire. I fought the thought down and concentrated on the task at hand. My hand slid down my side as I saw my intended target dragging his boat onto the sand. A few boxes were stacked in the back, but long not as many as I had hoped. Yet this would be better than nothing.

My eyes narrowed and I lay my head lower, hoping that my red hair would not give me away. There was nothing for it, I had lost my brown cape in a scuffle outside Adana, as well as my dagger. The space at my side was woefully empty, my fathers beautiful bronze sword used to be belted there but all that was left was the supple, well worn weapons belt. I sighed. One day, they would pay. And they would start today. I watched as the man began to offload his little boat. The boxes seemed to be empty and I breathed a sigh. So much for letting them start paying, I thought to myself as I watched him stacking them well beyond the tide-line and covering them with a fishing net. But pay he would. I grinned as he started up on the path, not even looking around. Cocky little man. My eyes narrowed further and my heartrate sped up as he disappeared beyond the first bend of the path.
I shuffled back just a little and crouched in readiness. There he was. I could feel my pulse race in my throat.
He must be feeling secure, he even began to whistle. I couldn't believe my ears.

You son of a swine, you don't have a chance.

A savage scream tore painfully from my dry throat as I vaulted over the edge of the cliff and dropped onto the unsuspecting man. He screamed too, and it made me laugh as he crumpled underneath me. I hit him squarely in the face and felt his nose break under my fist. My other fist connected with his temple and his eyes dimmed immediately. "Not so strong now, are you?", my voice was rough and I looked down at the unconscious man. "But you know too much to stay alive."
It took a bit of effort, but I managed to twist his neck until the telltale crunching, cracking noise. Blood still flowed freely from his nose, but that would stop.

My hands flew through his clothes that were almost as tattered as my own and I found a small satchel with silver coins. Not much, but better than nothing. He carried no weapons except a dagger, but I knew that this was not the man who had my fathers sword. No, he was small fry. But I remembered his stink. And for his involvement, he deserved only death. A shame it had been such a quick affair, but I was too weak at the moment to drag the game out in any way.
I made his coat my own, it was quite a simple garment but of better quality than my old one. His shoes I took as well. They were a little too big, but I would fix that tonight. And I would leave his corpse to be found.
Zeri is back. And some of you better start watching your back.
It was my turn to whistle as I strode down the path and pushed the boat back into the waves. I retraced my steps in my own footprints and made off towards the east, where my camp was.

A memory of gently rose-coloured colums arose in my mind, the warm wind whispered over my skin, caressing it gently with it's wamth. It was but a memory, even in my dream I knew but I could not help but fall for the vision. It called for me, reminding me of a long forgotten time when I walked among the columns myself and the caress on my skin was a whisper of finely woven cloth trimmed with bright colours denoting my status. A slave bowed before me and I smiled at him gently, walking past without another glance until I entered the core of the stately building, a huge hall with the statue of a golden God sitting at it's apex. The God ran a hand over his enormous beard and then reached for me, gathering me in his gigantic hand which felt cold to the touch and yet electrified every single fibre of my being. "Zeri", his voice boomed yet his words reached only me. "We had wondered where you had gone to." His breath replaced the wind and with infinite care and a gentle touch I felt his golden touch on my cheek by a thumb so large it could squeeze my head like a flea. What I said, I know not. I was lost in the exquisite touch, being so carried by a deity. The mosaics on the floor of the great temple became small as I was lifted up and brought close to the face. His nose was as long as my entire body and I shivered. The God smiled benevolently and hesitatingly I raised a hand to touch his golden skin.
Quite unexpectantly he screwed up his face and before I could wonder what was wrong he let out a bellowing sneeze, drenching me quite to the skin..."

"Chaos' rotten teeth!" I spluttered and jerked awake and upright. My hands wiped the water from my face and I frowned up from where I had bedded myself for the night, at the face of some officious slave that looked at me with a disgusted face and a bucket of water in his hand, the drop of water falling from it evidenced what had befallen me. "Away, you lout. Or I will make sure that the master will sell you on the slave market." His disgust turned into a leer. "And a fair price he would get too!"
I snarled and rose, my tattered clothes a sign of the times I had fallen upon. One of my red locks fell into my face and I pushed it away as I looked about while I descended the stairs. Around me were the famous temples of Athens, the Parthenon. And I had no home...

My footsteps led me along the path, down towards the harbour where merchants called and the smell of food wafted through the air. My stomach grumbled and as usual I ignored it. I had no money, nothing to barter but myself and I should die before I sold myself.
The morning was still young and the stones felt cold under my feet while I walked. And as I walked I cast my gaze around for an easy victim but none seemed to oblige. Instead they all kept a weary eye on the strange figure I must be representing, an emaciated woman in tattered and faded robes, hacked off at mid thigh to enable me to run faster. My red hair was drawing the eye and made thieving even more difficult and I had lost my coat. Just as I had lost my father's bronze sword and my daggers, my sandals and my earrings.
Cautiously I walked along the water's edge watching fishing boats row out to attempt the day's catch and one of them caught my eye. A young slave was on it, struggling with his net. A quiet smile appeared on my lips and I sped up, diving into the filthy harbour waters at the end of the wall.

The surprise on the boy's face as a red-haired stranger attempted to climb into his boat made me laugh. He glanced at my high cheekbones that spoke of the hunger I had suffered and I saw pity in his eyes and I am not ashamed to say I played upon it. Easy it was too, my arms hurt from the exertion and my breath burnt in my lungs. It would have been easy to let myself fall and let the waters claim me, but I didn't. I wanted to live.
He called out to me and came over, the opportunity I waited on. The boy yelped as I pulled him into the water and pushed him under as I scrambled onto the small craft. He surfaced and yelled something but I grasped the oars and began rowing as if my life depended on it.
And depend on it, it did.
But I did notice the loaf of bread before me and I laughed while my arms ached and the sun began to burn onto my head.

The fulfilment of my solemn promise had also meant that for my continued health I should perhaps leave the lands of my ancestors and their officious priests and seek my fortune elsewhere. Good deeds indeed!
I sat far away from the harbour in the shade of a sail, weakly rubbing my aching arms. I knew nothing of sailing but what might await me on the shore might be just as bad for my health as staying in my ancestral lands would have been.
The waves shwayed my little craft and the sail fluttered uselessly in the wind, the bread had long since been devoured and my throat was parched. A small container with wine lay at the side but I had not touched it yet, in my current condition it would be dangerously intoxicating but if I was to plot my return to dry land, I would have to keep my wits about me. And so I cogitated, wondering how avenging my father had brought me into such dire straits. Although.. those officious priests had predicted exactly that. If I had any spit left, I would have spat.


There was nothing for it, I would have to return to the city. The sun had long since crested it's zenith and begun it's descend to the western reaches of the horizon. And my grand plan to follow the sun westwards sunk with it. Decision made, my blistered palms clasped the oars and I hissed as the pain that I had ignored for most of the day came back with a vengence. Bad deeds, the Priest's voice sang at me in my mind and I gritted my teeth against the pain and the voice and began rowing back towards the splendour and despair of the Attica.

The rope tossed loosely around one of the pillars at the pier, I used my bleeding hands to pull myself up on the ladder, climbing to it's top and from there onto the pier. Hunching my shoulders would not hide my hair, and so I strode in all my tattered, skelettal glory along the harbour and up the hill past market stalls that made my stomach ache with the smells that came from them.
"Hey! Thief! Stop her!"
I swore under my breath but never let my facade crack as I glanced back just as everyone did and saw the boy I tried to drown in the morning.
"Hold the red-head!"
Bad deeds sang the priest in my mind and I swore violently. "Shut up" I told the voice with a nasty undertone and assessed my chances, grabbed a loaf of bread from the nearest market stall and some fruit and made a run for it.
Hands grasped for my tattered robes, but where there were rips and tears already there was nothing to grasp. I wiggled free from the hard grip of a hand and my tortured body began to feel the strain.
The steep incline made my lungs burn as I forced my legs on, stumbling.
They were faster than I, I had no weapons and no way to hide... Curse my hair!
I ducked into a house, rousing the family within who shouted at me. If they hadn't been full with stolen goods I would have held my hands up apologetically but instead I looked around and saw a backdoor into some sort of courtyard.
A heartbeat later I ducked through the door and weaved back into another house backing onto the courtyard and found only an old woman within. Mumbling an apology I thrust the bread at her and grabbed the cloak that was hanging over a stool by the door, swung it over my head and ducked back out onto the main street.

I had no idea where I was but from the garden I had seen the Acropolis rise above the houses. So I should be close to the Pirean or to the Itonian gates.
There was some sort of tumult a little further up the street and I turned my head to it, seeing an armed man barge into the old woman's house before choosing the opposite direction and descending the hill. My breath desperately wanted to rasp in my throat and my poor heart drummed a frantic rhythm in my ears but I stilled my movements to mimic the aimless walk of so many that perused the merchant's stalls. The raised hood drew eyes, but not as many as my hair usually did and so I continued unimpeded towards the city gates.
I didn't even merit a second look of the guards as I passed the gate closest to the Ilissos river and continued to walk the road that ran east from there. Somewhere I would have to spend the night but first I wanted to get away from those shady characters that liked to gather directly underneath the city walls. There was still no way I would sell myself and I was far to weak to fight.

At some point I had to stop. Stars danced before my eyes and I doubled over, breathing heavily. I should not have done this, the whole plan born from instant thought had been a wretched mistake. I had wasted a day and I had taxed myself to far. At the side of the road I collapsed to my knees and laid my head onto the rough stones. If there had been tears, I think I might have cried.
At some point I rolled onto my side and slid my hood further into my face. I took a bite of the pear that i had swiped from the stall. Its juices filled my mouth with sweetness that I had not tasted in years and I ignored what it might do to my stomach as I wolfed the entire fruit down. I needed to find food. And I needed to get away from here.
Hoping that passers-by would just mistake me for a corpse, I fell into an exhausted sleep.

Dawn intruded on my shivering sleep. The cloak that covered me had not kept the night's cold at bay and my emaciated body could do nothing but tremble helplessly. Her pale eyes opened slowly and took in the scene before her, the road wet with dew and the first merchants drove their carts towards the gates of the city. Slaves carried baskets and bags and there was the occasional traveller. One of them walked closely by and I eyed his delicately leaf-shaped bronze sword as he walked by. My fingers itched towards it, once upon a time I had owned one very similar to it but the little girl I had been did not understand or match the skills of those that took it off me. But then, at least they had left me alone after robbing me of what I owned.

Carefully I sat up and pulled the hood further into my face as I ignored the pain in my stomach. But I reckoned my chances better out here than in the city itself. Keeping my head bowed I rose, feeling my knees wobble under the cloak as I bit my lip to keep upright. Bad deeds sang the voice in my head gleefully as I cursed my weakness and my current state.

I joined the travellers trail and selected a lone slave who looked almost as downtrodden as I felt. She walked alone, without a master nearby and carried a basket with bread, which didn't look very appetising but I was not in a position to be choosy. Instead I sidled up to her, reached up and grabbed a loaf. She looked shocked and was about to speak up as I broke the bread in half and handed her the other half, pretending I was just walking next to her. "Blame me for stealing. But you look as if you are hungry too." Her deep brown eyes were wide with fear and darted here and there while I wolfed down the bread and took the basket off her. "Eat. I won't run off." A purpling bruise on the side of her face spoke of the treatment she received from her master and I was glad to be free.
For once the priest in my head seemed to hold his tongue as I walked along in silence. The bread sat like a heavy weight in my stomach and I gave her a solemn nod as I handed the basket back and let myself fall back.

A few days passed during which I more or less successfully fleeced a few slaves and poor looking merchants and found myself a stout stick with a sharp end that would do fine as a rudimentary weapon. As my survival was not my most immediate concern anymore now that I had managed to feed myself for some days, I began to plot my escape. The harbour at Piraeus seemed my most likely hope but I would need to either stow away on a merchant vessel or steal another fisherboat and hope for the best. For this purpose, I began to visit the harbour regularly, making my face a familiar one and trying to figure out the workings and goings on of the place.
I also began to collect food and thought of how I would collect enough wine or water for any sea journey. In case I needed to liberate a boat for my use.

A small fishing vessel caught my eye. It's crew consisted of an old man and a boy and they did not seem very lucky. If I was to find sudden riches, they surely would not be averse to operate the sails to bring me where I wanted to go. And I had a wish to go west.
Instead, I turned back to the road to find myself a way to get myself a small knife in the effort to cut some strings. Literally.
Bad deeds.
"Oh, shut up."
This earned me a strange look from a nearby traveller but I simply showed my teeth in approximation of a smile and continued my path with a plan in my head.

Finally the son of a dog stopped breathing. For good measure I bounced his head off the stone underneath him once more and loosened my hands around his throat. Bruises had begun to form under my fingers that ran over the roughly shaved skin of his throat and found the jugular. I felt not even a flutter of rhythm, still... I took a stone and smashed the windpipe. I wouldn't need someone like that ratting me out.

Days had passed and I had operated without notice of some of the gangs or the bands of soldiers that operated around the grand city of the Greek states. My strength had returned somewhat and I finally felt that the time had come to begin to tackle bigger game.
Still, my targets were to be found at the fringes, there was no way I would be able to take on wealthy travellers or merchants and their guards. And so I found the loners, the gamblers and the drinkers to fleece.

I stared down at the broken man before me. Luring him in had been easy, but I had gone against my own plan. His clothes were made of fine cloth and embroidered with fine thread although it was looking quite worn. This man had fallen on hard times, which was my luck.
And he also had moved as if he had something to hide, which I sincerely hoped he did.

Searching my fingers flew over his body, finding amulets and finally a purse. My joy knew no bounds as I found a few valuable coins inside, this would buy me passage to Sicily at least.

Yet, I did not want anyone to find this individual soon. Carrion birds and wild dogs would find the cadavre and tear it up, but I could not afford these animals to be found with tell-tale signs of a body. Thankfully the are was craggy enough that I was able to cover the body with stones big enough that they would at least constitute an obstacle for dogs.
Something had cracked within my soul and I laughed, I was finally going to be able to get away from this land and it's idol-worshipping people. And from that priest in my head who seemed to be holding his tongue in fear.
"And so you should", I said with a laugh and took one last look at that mound of stones before skipping away with my gains.

Persuading those two fishermen down on their luck had been easy. Almost too easy but a little more of the crazy glint in my eye and they got the message.
The fact that I poked the old man a little with my sharpened stick before twirling it around to whack him over the head after we left the harbour seemed to spur on his younger companion as well. I laughed and nudged the old man with my foot. "Fear not. I will let him live. But no man will touch me." I uncoiled some of the rope that lay around the boat and tied up the old man's hands.
"And now show me how this sail works."

Days passed under the winter sun and the nights were even cooler on the water as they had been on land. The men lay together under blankets sharing their warmth but I did no such thing. I kept watch and looked at the stars that shone on my journey, only sleeping which exhaustion meant I could no longer keep upright.
Finally we saw land and I looked at my hostages and a plan formed in my mind...


I untied the old man within sight of Sicily and held my stick in the manner of a lance. "Jump." I ordered tonelessly and narrowed my eyes at him.
He must have been evaluating the situation carefully but shrank back as I moved forward. "What do you wait for. Jump. Or your grandson gets it." I smiled at the boy and showed my teeth.
Whatever he was saying, I did not care to translate. A curse onto me and my following generations most like. But he did jump.
And then, so did his grandson. Wonderful, I wouldn't have to throw him over board.
And so I set the sail and directed the boat westwards, leaving the spluttering and curses behind me.

The sun was blinding me, up from above and it's reflection glittering on the waves. I squinted and took another sip from the wine-bottle. I still had a few, but my stocks were running low. I also had no idea where I was. Perhaps, throwing the old man and his grandson overboard was not such a great idea.
In the shade of the sail I laid my head back and considered it's woven expanse that billowed nicely with a wind that took us towards the Northwest. One day I would surely have to encounter land again. Or so I hoped.

A long, long time ago I had seen a map, drawn on a large piece of vellum by some Greek scholars. And on that map there was land all around the sea I was on. By my own reckoning I should have hit land already. My mother's land was up there in the North West somewhere, she had been sold as slave and found her way to Thracian lands. Or at least that's what my father had told her a long, long time ago when they had walked along the shore of the Black Sea hand in hand, the little red-haired girl that was me not much taller than the beautiful bronze sword that hung by his side.
Light glinted off the sword when he walked, and I could feel his hand warm in mine. There was a little stone in my sandal and I tried to shake it out without much success. It hurt, but I ignored it, limping along next to the golden haired God that was my father. Or at least that what he was in the eyes of the little girl that I was then.
He had so many scars, he was missing a few teeth.
"Stop", he said and picked me up to sit me on a rock nearby. He then bent down and unfastened my sandals with deft fingers, got the stone out and helped me lace them again. All this was done without a word until he grasped my hand again and we continued on our way. And if we slept under the starlit skies or in an inn, or in a barn or a farm, I did not care.

The boat was rocking me gently and I raised my head to look out. Far in the distance there was a dark strip to be seen. Unbelieving, I scrambled up and looked more and saw undulating shapes. Land.
I never wanted to see the sea again.
All I had to do was try and get there and find a place that looked like it could provide for me.

Where had that priest gone, anyway?

The keeltimber of my little fishing vessel crunched loudly onto the gravelly beach of the place where my wanderings would continue on foot. I withdrew the oars and sat on the bench for a few moments to think.
Never one for sitting still for too long, I threw a small pack onto the beach (just a few clothes pilfered from the grandson) and my sharpened stick before clambering over the side of the boat, landing with both feet in the warm water.
A gentle breeze caressed the land here and the waves were little things, a pale comparison to their greater brethren that I had encountered on my voyage to the northwest. A little impatiently I pushed a red strand from my face and stuck it behind my ear, I wavered. Part of me wanted to be off this damned nutshell, away from the sea and exploring new and unfamiliar territory. Another part was apprehensive, it was one thing being a good-for-nothing part-time criminal but I was now in a place hopefully very far removed from my beginnings at the Black Sea and at least far removed from that strange place that was Athens.
I was not used to wavering. And it made me even more impatient with myself.
I shook the water from my sandals, shouldered my pack and pushed the boat into the sea.
Then I collected my stick and headed for the shade provided by some low trees. There I sat, pulled the last tiny claybottle of wine from my pack and drank deeply. When I opened my eyes, I could see the little nutshell bobbing on the waves, the gentle wind that had greeted me on land billowing the sail to push it back out to wherever it would go.
I stoppered the bottle, placed it carefully back in the pack and leant my head against one of the trees behind me.

When I came to, the sun had begun to set and I blinked into it's darkening rays that shone over the horizon, illuminating a chain of peaks that I could see in the distance. The beach was as good as any place to spend the night, but I wanted to eat. So I would have to hunt something before the light completely faded.
I left the pack, grabbed my stick and headed for the undergrowth that seemed to cover the plain just beyond the beach.

Weary of the fluster of the peasants' gathering the Iberians call it their town, the Exiled walks away the hurly of their harsh voices and of their petty interests. What may find him interest if someone's donkey can carry more? Narrowing his eyes, he steps at slow pace towards the cliffs guarding the small beach ahead. The sea lies before his eyes, in calm waves and peaceful sounds, but not to bring him comfort or to share its peace. It's the sea which separates him from what he held to his mind and power of the spirit. His glorious, beloved Rome. Now gone forever, covering his footsteps in anger and despicable slander. Lost. The plazas, the agora of the wise, the Colloseum and the Senate, all gone. Between him and the splendor of The City not only the sea does lie, but fury and hunger for revenge.

How the calm waves of the sea break to the shore, in mocking him! A poor joke of the gods themselves, no doubt. They are never enough. No, they are never enough of ruining us all.

And then the sight lowers, and there is movement to the beach. A petty figure, small even, as appearing from the sight from the cliff, struggling its way to dry land. No more than a nutshell bringing it about, a joke of the actors from the theater, in their poorest days. A skinny, hunted animal, terror smitten looking around, and yet, hunger betrayed in its moves and gestures. What a petty show, but how fit for this world.

By Juno's cunt! It is a human female! a clap of palms in revelation, and a closer look. Poor clothing, mere rags even, but they are there! What fate has brought her here, on this forsaken land? She would have been more happy in Hades' grasp, I bet!

The Exiled smirks to himself, amused at his own weakness. The cynical went slumberous, while the vigilant awakened. A gift from the Fortuna goddess, in mocking him more. They never tire, or they so forfeit.

And yet the silhouette grows bigger, as finding a path away the beach, deep into the land. And hunter and the hunted grow together as one, in skulking moves and slipping looks around. With arms crossed upon he chest, he wonders: a spirit from the sea was banished to the land of living, or a mortal the pits of Triton refused to take?! It is the eyes that trouble you, my friend. The eyes... and the Exiled chased his look away, in sudden pain.

So they stood, almost facing each other, and with a nod the Exiled pointed to the village behind him. Not looking or willing to find out more. Not even caring.

Hurting eyes.

There were no traces of anything that looked edible in the fine dusty soil among the brush beyond the shore and I sighed deeply, pushing the butt of my stick into the ground and straightening to look around to determine where I was.
What I found was a stranger looking at me intently, his arms crossed before his chest. Quite close.
I stayed where I was and stared back at him, tightening the grasp on my sharpened stick ever so slightly. There was no weapon to be seen at his side but that didn't mean anything. He could have a knife strapped between the folds of his raiment.
My heartbeat sped up and finally my mind convinced my stubborn self that it might be prudent to step back because at close quarters my crude spear would be quite useless.

I sucked in a deep breath through my nostrils and narrowed my eyes but not daring to look away. There was something disdainful and cold in that look, perhaps pity of some sort? My face hardened and he looked away quite suddenly. So many things are decided in a first meeting and curiosity kept him alive. Curiosity and the fact that he had made no move towards me in anyway.
Still, I had entertained sweeping his legs from under him with my spear and then crushing his throat with the point, if I could. No one knew I was here after all. The thought made the corners of my mouth want to turn upwards but I was still tense enough not to want to smile. And so I quivered in anticipation of what might happen next.
And I was surprised. I felt my eyes widen again as he nodded and pointed behind him, towards what looked like houses. How had I missed them earlier? I felt more than I heard my stomach rumble and decided to play along for now. So I returned the nod and retreated to retrieve my pack from the place I had left it.

As I looked out towards the sea, I wondered where I was. If the place had been on that old map my father had shown me. And I looked out over the sea, glad I was away from it all.
An anxious knot formed in my stomach, but I made sure my gestures would not give anything away as I returned with confident strides to the stranger and looked at him for a moment to let him lead the way towards the village.

Fallaces rerum species. the Exiled took his distance in defining the being challenging him. A running slave, I'd say. And one of North breed, too. He mocked himself when the thought of having the guard called at once pierced his mind. That life is way beyond, plumbeus! .

She was an odd thing to look at, no doubt. The way she held her stick as if to strike, and the predator look in her eyes, what a display of wit and terror! The Exiled raised an eyebrow, but mindfully swallowed the heartily laugh ready to burst. That thing is hungrier than she even realises, yet the wit still strong beyond belief. Who knows, she maybe is even able to articulate sounds in human speech.

Another time, another life, he would have shrugged, and turned around, and left without a sound. World is filled with wretched creatures to whom the Parces were churlish. And if her master didn't care of his property, why he would have? But here, in this ghastly place, so many things that he knew for certain showed their appearance as not, any longer, being true . And the lack of any servants he found so hard to endure. The Exiled sighed deep, and pitied his fate once more. And then he threw another, closer look at the thing, as he surprised himself to starting calling it. Long arms and legs, and no visible signs of deformation. Firm buttocks, fair enough shoulders, strong muscles at the thighs. The Exiled clicked his tongue. No fat, on the contrary, but this can be improved. He would have fancied a good inspection of the teeth as well, but this had to be delayed for now. She can work at fields, or carry weights, indeed. And if properly cleaned, dressed and trained to behave, she may even serve around the house.

By the time she returned from the beach, holding a light pack, his mind was set. Not without a self-ironical chuckle too, regarding how low he has become. Trying to compose a rather reassuring smile, he gestured to his mouth, as if in eating, and pointed to himself, and to the settlement. If she wanted to eat, she must follow.

A welcomed distraction, and perhaps, in future, a profitable one. If only there weren't these provocative damned eyes.