corner of the courtyard where a stairway led to the upper floor. Grateful for some guidance, Hector made his way to the staircase and began to climb.
He was met as he emerged on the upper floor and at closer quarters he did not like what he saw. The man was dressed in baggy pantaloons and a loose overmantle and wore the red cap and iron anklet which, Hector now presumed, marked him as a fellow slave. But the man’s smile was patently false. ‘Benvenuto, benvenuto,’ he said, indicating that Hector should follow him. He led Hector a short distance along the balcony, then turned to the right, and Hector found himself in what was evidently some sort of dormitory. Crudely made wooden bunk beds, four tiers high, were packed tightly together, with scarcely room to squeeze between them. There was no window and the only light came through the open doorway. With such little ventilation the room reeked of sweat. All the bunks were empty except for one which contained a lump under a blanket which Hector supposed was either someone asleep or dead.
‘Venga, venga,’ his guide squeezed his way between the bunks to the back of the room, and was again beckoning to him to follow. Hector saw that the corner of the dormitory had been curtained off by a length of cloth hung from a line. He stepped forward, and the man held aside the curtain so he could pass. As soon as Hector was inside the cubicle, the man dropped the curtain and, from behind, pinioned Hector’s arms to his sides. He felt the man’s unshaven cheek press against the back of his neck, and hot, fetid breath filled his nostrils. He dropped his blanket and tried to break free, but the stranger’s grip was too powerful. ‘Calma, calma,’ the man was saying, as he wrestled Hector forward until his face was pressed against the wall of the cubicle. Hector felt the man’s gut pressing against his back, as he was pinioned in position. A moment later his assailant was pawing at Hector’s shirt with one hand, pulling upward, while the other hand was dragging downwards at his loose pantaloons which fell down towards his knees. His attacker was snorting with excitement and lust. Appalled, Hector realised that he was being raped. He thrashed from side to side, trying again to free himself, but it was useless. Every move was anticipated, and Hector was forced harder against the wall. The man was surging now, trying to force himself into Hector, and grunting with effort. Hector felt waves of revulsion.
Abruptly there was a choking grunt, and the pressure pushing him against the wall eased. ‘Bastanza!’ said a new voice sharply, and there was a gurgling sound. Hector pushed himself clear of the wall and turned to see his assailant clutching at his throat, his thick body arched back, and a third person in the cubicle, half hidden behind his would-be rapist. The newcomer was holding a leather belt which he had looped around the attacker’s neck and was now using as a garrotte. ‘Bastanza! Bestia!’ the newcomer added, pulling the noose tighter so that the cord began to cut off the windpipe. Shaking with shock, Hector pulled up his pantaloons and staggered out of the cubicle, remembering only to scoop up his blanket from the floor.
He blundered past the ranks of bunk beds, and somehow managed to find his way out to the balcony. There he leaned against the balustrade, gasping for air. He felt defiled and frightened. Moments later he sensed someone emerge from the dormitory and stand beside him. ‘Are you all right?’ It was the voice of his rescuer, and the question was spoken in English. Hector raised his head to look into the face of the man who had saved him. His rescuer was about his own age yet resembled no other man he had seen in his life. His eyes were so dark brown as to appear almost black, and long, straight jet-black hair hung down to his shoulders, framing a narrow face with high cheekbones and a strong nose. His rescuer’s skin, Hector was astonished to see, was
He was met as he emerged on the upper floor and at closer quarters he did not like what he saw. The man was dressed in baggy pantaloons and a loose overmantle and wore the red cap and iron anklet which, Hector now presumed, marked him as a fellow slave. But the man’s smile was patently false. ‘Benvenuto, benvenuto,’ he said, indicating that Hector should follow him. He led Hector a short distance along the balcony, then turned to the right, and Hector found himself in what was evidently some sort of dormitory. Crudely made wooden bunk beds, four tiers high, were packed tightly together, with scarcely room to squeeze between them. There was no window and the only light came through the open doorway. With such little ventilation the room reeked of sweat. All the bunks were empty except for one which contained a lump under a blanket which Hector supposed was either someone asleep or dead.
‘Venga, venga,’ his guide squeezed his way between the bunks to the back of the room, and was again beckoning to him to follow. Hector saw that the corner of the dormitory had been curtained off by a length of cloth hung from a line. He stepped forward, and the man held aside the curtain so he could pass. As soon as Hector was inside the cubicle, the man dropped the curtain and, from behind, pinioned Hector’s arms to his sides. He felt the man’s unshaven cheek press against the back of his neck, and hot, fetid breath filled his nostrils. He dropped his blanket and tried to break free, but the stranger’s grip was too powerful. ‘Calma, calma,’ the man was saying, as he wrestled Hector forward until his face was pressed against the wall of the cubicle. Hector felt the man’s gut pressing against his back, as he was pinioned in position. A moment later his assailant was pawing at Hector’s shirt with one hand, pulling upward, while the other hand was dragging downwards at his loose pantaloons which fell down towards his knees. His attacker was snorting with excitement and lust. Appalled, Hector realised that he was being raped. He thrashed from side to side, trying again to free himself, but it was useless. Every move was anticipated, and Hector was forced harder against the wall. The man was surging now, trying to force himself into Hector, and grunting with effort. Hector felt waves of revulsion.
Abruptly there was a choking grunt, and the pressure pushing him against the wall eased. ‘Bastanza!’ said a new voice sharply, and there was a gurgling sound. Hector pushed himself clear of the wall and turned to see his assailant clutching at his throat, his thick body arched back, and a third person in the cubicle, half hidden behind his would-be rapist. The newcomer was holding a leather belt which he had looped around the attacker’s neck and was now using as a garrotte. ‘Bastanza! Bestia!’ the newcomer added, pulling the noose tighter so that the cord began to cut off the windpipe. Shaking with shock, Hector pulled up his pantaloons and staggered out of the cubicle, remembering only to scoop up his blanket from the floor.
He blundered past the ranks of bunk beds, and somehow managed to find his way out to the balcony. There he leaned against the balustrade, gasping for air. He felt defiled and frightened. Moments later he sensed someone emerge from the dormitory and stand beside him. ‘Are you all right?’ It was the voice of his rescuer, and the question was spoken in English. Hector raised his head to look into the face of the man who had saved him. His rescuer was about his own age yet resembled no other man he had seen in his life. His eyes were so dark brown as to appear almost black, and long, straight jet-black hair hung down to his shoulders, framing a narrow face with high cheekbones and a strong nose. His rescuer’s skin, Hector was astonished to see, was
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