Shepherd, Slave, and Vow (Patreon)

Someone asked for some of my older, out-of-print works, so I went hunting.  This was a novella Dreamspinner put out.  It's older, and I can see where my writing has shifted, but I did like the mythological world.

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1.

Ferro fought the chains as the slave-master dragged him toward the post. He didn’t care all that much about being displayed or even sold—his family would retrieve him as soon as they thought he’d learned his lesson. He certainly didn’t think he could get free. His earlier antics meant that his hands were closely chained, and he wore hobbles that limited him to small, rattling steps. The god Hephaestus himself couldn’t break free. However, Ferro didn’t generally get to fight. Most times, tutors and advisors and brothers and uncles and cousins and diplomats and teachers and sword-master and bow-masters spent entire days telling Ferro how he couldn’t fight. It wasn’t proper for him to want anything other than what his family provided. The privilege and the duty of first family choked him like a noose every day of the week, so the slave tents were a relief more than any punishment. One day his father would learn of that, and Ferro didn’t care to think what the devious old man would come up with as a replacement.

“Behave,” the slave-master snapped, his short crop coming down on Ferro’s leg, and the thin pants did little to dull the sting.

“Well, if you were good enough to make me do that, I wouldn’t be wearing chains, now would I?” Ferro’s smart mouth earned him a second, harder blow to his leg. “Now that’s just petty. I’m a chained slave, and you’re so offended by a word that you’d strike out.” Ferro could see his words hit their mark. The slave-master didn’t hit him again, but he did jerk on the wrist chain hard enough that Ferro’s hobbled feet couldn’t keep up. He fell to his knees on the hard-packed earth. That hurt. The slave-master looked down on him with a weary expression that Ferro recognized well-enough from his own father’s face.

“That was so much more petty than the crop,” Ferro said with a sigh as he struggled to get back on his feet. With the chains set so short, he had to struggle, but Ferro figured he had more experience in chains than any member of first family in all of history. He finally did get to his feet and he pinned the slave-master with a cold glare. He stood a good five inches taller than the man, and weapons training had given Ferro an impressive body with shoulders that allowed him to draw the most tightly strung long bow. That was no small feat. The slave-master, on the other hand, had a slight pot-belly and fat fingers that didn’t match the rest of his remarkably average body.

Ferro used his advantage, drawing himself up and moving close enough to intimidate. At least, he would have been intimidating if he hadn’t been chained hand and foot. “Thank you so much for helping me to get up,” he said, making it clear that he considered it a lack of manners. He hated it when his father used that tone on him, and the slave-master seemed equally unimpressed.

“Watch your mouth or I’ll restrain it, too,” he warned. A gag was the one threat Ferro did take seriously, and he moved to counter that threat.

“Do, and the moment the gag is off, I’ll explain to my new owner that taking actions that would minimize a slave’s flaws is punishable by the return of the slave fee and, if the new owner wishes to return me, an additional fine to punish you for impious behavior.” Ferro gave a grim smile when those words sunk in.

The slave-master narrowed his dark, piggish little eyes. “Then I’ll make sure each buyer knows how flawed you are,” he said, his voice tight. He’d hit Ferro if he had the slightest provocation, but Ferro knew when he had pushed far enough and he went meekly to the post where the slave-master chained him with so little slack that Ferro wouldn’t even be able to sit. Ferro sighed. Maybe he’d pushed too far. This was going to be an uncomfortable wait this time.

“Comfortable?” the slave-master asked with more sarcasm than the situation really called for.

“I could use a couch, something in kid’s leather with a soft wool blanket,” Ferro suggested. He had a couch exactly like it in his room, but he wouldn’t see it until his father had forgiven him.

With a snort, the slave-master walked away. Ferro considered his surroundings. The tent’s fabric made the mid-day sun feel like twilight, and a lazy breeze wandered in through long slits along the sides. It wasn’t enough to shift the heat, and for a moment, Ferro wished he’d behaved well enough to go to the sea today. Two other slaves waited for buyers, both restrained only with the ceremonial wrist cuff and a long lead chain. A young woman with curling hair had baskets at her feet, likely samples of her crafts. A weaver woman would bring a good sale and go to a good owner. She watched with her mouth open. So she’d never seen a disobedient slave before. Ferro snorted. That sort of naiveté held no interest for him.

The man showed more potential. He’d kept his back turned during Ferro’s little fight, either to offer privacy or in silent condemnation for a mouthy slave. Ferro wondered which. Now though, he turned and stared, his gaze unreadable. He was a man in his prime with black curled hair and amber-brown eyes. He looked a few years older than Ferro’s own thirty years, but this one had the dark tan of someone who worked outside, and that tended to age a man. He might be Ferro’s age or even younger. The muscles, the wide chest and thick arms and even the way he held himself still spoke of battle. A soldier then. But soldiers were rarely sold. Sometimes the various parts of the family might trade, but even then, one walked carefully around a soldier. They might be slaves, but they were the army on which the family stood. The army and the gods were the defense of the land, and the family would not risk angering either.

Ferro looked at the man’s hands. Rather than the thick fingers of someone who swung a sword, he had long fingers. His only scar, a ragged white thing on his right forearm, looked less like a weapon wound than a bit of chimera-chewed flesh. However, he didn’t have the unvarnished arrogance of a monster-hunter. The man endured Ferro’s gaze for some time before he crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow. That was an expression Ferro would like to master. It definitely warned others to tread carefully. Ferro could feel his cock stir, and the damn chains didn’t give him much room to hide it.

“Such arrogance can cost you on the sale post,” the man warned. He was worried about Ferro. Oh, this could be so much fun, at least for a while. The worst part about the slave sales was always the boredom as he waited for something to happen.

Ferro shrugged. “The goal is to not get sold.”

The man’s eyebrow went up again. Despite the fact that the man was the least expressive Ferro had ever met, he found he could easily read his expression of disbelief. “This is an object lesson. Someone will show up, buy me back, and offer a nice little reward for the inconvenience.” Ferro didn’t mention that it would be the major domo of the first family. That was his secret.

“And if you’re sold before they come?”

Ferro’s grin widened. “The point is to be unsellable. And I am so very good at being bad.” Ferro looked down at the chains. “I’m also going to be sore as all Hades with chains this short, but….” Ferro shrugged.

“There’s a certain sort who doesn’t mind a slave that requires chains and whips,” the man warned.

“There is,” Ferro agreed. He'd met that sort firsthand. His father's guilt had been enough to save him from another slave sale for nearly two years. Of course, in the end, Ferro had gone back to chains. “If I attract that sort, all the better.” Ferro's smile turned cold.

The man settled back, leaning against his post. While Ferro had a lot of experience with evading questions, the silence was wearing on him. Actually, it was boring him. And Ferro did not do bored well. Leaning against his own post, his chain hands trapped between the wood his stomach, Ferro smiled. “It's better if they choose me. Someone will be coming for me, and if some sadistic owner has chosen to break the covenant of protection between a master and slave, well, I’m one of the few who can make them pay.” Ferro remembered Petrot’s face. The guards had dragged him out into the courtyard of his own estate. He was some distant cousin, the husband of a fourth cousin three times removed or something. Anyway, his lineage was so tentative that Ferro couldn’t trace it, but Petrot had thought that would save him. He’d been wrong.

“Besides, I can take care of myself. The slave-master didn’t deserve more than a hard time, so I didn’t give it. But let some spawn of Medusa touch me, and they will find out how many claws I really have.”

The huff made it clear that the other man questioned Ferro’s sanity. Ferro had hoped for some sort of amusement to help him pass the hours, but the man turned his back and settled down next to his post.

“So you're clearly not the disobedient, rebellious sort. What are you doing here?” A slave of his age was generally settled in at some job, and he didn’t look the sort to get sold as incompetent.

That didn't even rate twitch from the man. He leaned the side of his head against his post and appeared to go to sleep. It was aggravating. If Ferro was hyper and trapped by his chains, he wanted someone to be miserable with him.

“So, I'm Ferro,” he said loudly. Again, the man didn't twitch. It was the woman who answered him.

“My name's Agnella,” she offered shyly.

Any port in a storm and any diversion when bored, that was Ferro's motto. He flashed her a bright smile. “Hello, Agnella. So, first time?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m nervous.”

“Nothing to be worried about, not for you, anyway. Now me? With these chains, you know they’re all going to take one look at me and run the other way.”

That earned him a look of sympathy. “You don’t have to be so aggressive.”

“Oh, I really do,” Ferro corrected her. “So, have you brought samples of all your lovely work?”

She nodded. “I really hope I don’t need it.” That was confusing. Most people wanted to make sure they got bought for the sort of job they showed talent at. She opened one of the baskets and pulled out a beautifully crocheted blanket. It wasn’t up to palace standards, but it certainly showed talent.

“I would think you would want to show that off.”

“Oh, I do,” she agreed. “Only Master Theron is supposed to be coming to buy me.” Another cousin Ferro didn’t know… either that or a traveller. The travellers sometimes bought slaves, although most times slave-owners avoided selling to them since they didn’t believe in slavery. Instead, they believed in letting people starve at the side of the road when times got hard. Ferro knew how ugly slavery could get when a master didn’t believe in the vengeance of the gods; Petrot had taught him that. However, the gods and Ferro’s family took their revenge, and Ferro refused to believe that it was better to turn people out to flail through life alone.

“You think he’s coming soon?”

She nodded. “He has a slave in his household, a gentle man who would often stop and talk.” She blushed. Ferro smiled kindly at her. She’d fallen in love with a slave from another household. She was the heroine of her own tale of romance. He hoped it worked out for her and that this Theron let the young lovers have their romance, at least until the love turned into hatred and someone asked to get sold off. “He’s supposed to come today.”

“May Aphrodite bless your pairing with desire and Athene with wisdom,” Ferro offered the formal blessing. Agnella blushed even more and bowed her head to hide it.

“Thank you,” she said in a tiny voice.

Well, Ferro wasn’t going to verbally toy with a woman on the eve of being with her one-true-love. That left the other man. Ferro shuffled to the side to get a better look at him. He expected him to be asleep, or feigning it more likely, but instead, two startlingly amber eyes watched him. Ferro offered up his most brilliant smile.

“We have a prospective buyer, gentlemen,” the slave-master announced as he walked in. Ferro turned and gave this new man a cold, assessing look. While there was little chance he’d buy Ferro, Ferro didn’t want the other man taken away before he could figure out exactly who he was. Ferro didn’t like riddles, not unless he had the answer. However, the other man stood and tilted his head in respect. Idiot would get bought acting like that.

2.

“Master Senden, this is Lisias,” the slave-master offered. Lisias. Ferro studied the man. He didn’t look like a Lisias, not that Ferro could decide on a name that would better fit him.

“Lisias,” Senden said. He might be a lord, a member of Ferro’s own family, but he dressed like a slave who might manage a less-prosperous farm. Ferro’s family dressed the major domo better than this one with his rough sewn shirt and heavy boots that showed heavy wear along the sides where the leather was scuffed. He wasn’t even wearing the more traditional chiton or cloak of the family, but the eastern pants that had become popular with slaves. “What animals have you tended?” he asked, right to business.

A tender. Now that was a disappointment. Ferro had been busy constructing fantasies about this Lisias, and he was nothing more than an animal-tender.

“Sheep, goats, pigs, some experience with donkeys.”

“No cattle or horses?” Senden asked. Lisias shook his head.

“In pasture or grazing lands?”

“Grazing.”

“Dogs?”

“I worked with them until two years ago.”

Senden reached out and ran a finger along Lisias’ scarred arm. “Wolf?”

“Yes, sir,” Lisias agreed. Now that was a little more interesting. Ferro silently willed Senden to ask that story.

“How many?”

“Six.”

“You lose any animals?”

“A ewe and her lamb,” Lisias admitted, and from the tight line of his back, he didn’t like admitting to that failure. It would make him worth less, and for slaves, their worth determined their status.

“And your partner?”

“I didn’t have one.”

Ferro sucked in his breath loud enough to get the attention of both Senden and the slave-master. Even Lisias looked over, that closely guarded expression revealing nothing about how he might feel about having his purchase interview interrupted by a rude slave. Honestly, Ferro felt a little guilty because he did know how important slaves found this process. A good owner led to a good life, the saying went, but Lisias clearly hadn’t had a good owner at all. Men walking grazing lands or soldiers walking borders—you didn’t send them alone. Only Lisias had been alone.

Senden spoke up. “Why would you be walking gazing lands with no dogs and no partner?”

“I don’t know. I only know that my partner was called back to the house, sir.”

The slave-master added the one piece of information that made all the pieces fit together. “He belonged to Master Kratop.”

“Son of a Medusa-welped cur,” Ferro muttered. The man was a third cousin who had inherited good land and better money. His gambling had managed to lose him most everything. He’d promised land to a dozen different creditors and he cut slave rations to gather money for his pleasures. He’d paid with his freedom. So, Lisias had been left alone to fight off wolves with his fists while Cousin Actus Kratop had visited red tents and gambled and whored. Ferro figured he was in chains now because his father was particularly short tempered after uncovering that mess. Of course, Ferro shouldn’t have stolen a horse to enter in races so shortly after Kratop had been stripped of his birthright, but he’d done that often enough that he expected his father to ignore the transgression.

The slave-master gave Ferro a cold look for his bout of cursing, but Ferro wouldn’t apologize. Kratop was his cousin, even if no one here knew that, and he had a right to curse him out.

“I do have a wolf problem in high grazing. One of my tenders was mauled and his partner had to carry him back to the road.” Senden looked down at Lisias’ arm, and it occurred to Ferro that he must have walked back to civilization on his own with his mauled arm. Maybe he was interesting, even if he was only a tender. Maybe Senden was thinking the same because he paused a moment before continuing. “The elder tender, Anxo, is too old to risk going up against wolves again, and this pack has killed a half dozen dogs.”

“Luring them out?” Lisias asked.

“Yes. When they attacked Aeneas, he was lucky to survive. They’re turning dangerous, but the three times I’ve hired hunters, they’ve come back with nothing.”

“Wolves are clever,” Lisias said slowly. “Patient.”

“Too clever. If you’re willing to take on that, I’ll pay a good price for a man who can protect himself and the animals. You have a record of caring well for animals, providing care and medical tending when needed, but more than anything, I need someone to go up against the wolves.”

“Yes, sir, I can do that,” Lisias agreed quickly. Ferro would have been running the other way from the job, and it was the sort of job no owner tried to force a slave to take. However, Lisias had an almost content look now that he’d agreed to put himself in danger for a bunch of witless sheep.

“I’ll need a second slave. Aeneas may never recover enough to work graze lands again, and I won’t risk Anxo. Is your partner from Kratop still for sale?”

Lisias had to look to the slave-master for that. The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lord, but he was sold two seasons ago. I could ask if his owner was interested in a trade.”

“No,” Lisias said. For a meek and obedient slave, he was quick to voice his opinion. “Melecio was a fine tender, but not a fighter.”

Senden nodded in agreement, clearly not all that concerned about a slave’s manners. “I’d prefer to send two strong fighters out there. Perhaps we can visit another slave-master.”Senden turned to the slave-master. “I’ll pay his price.” Senden was already sorting through the items in the bag that was slung across his chest when Lisias spoke.

“I want that one.” Lisias looked over and made eye contact with Ferro. For a second, the gods stole Ferro’s thoughts so he could only stare back. However, Ferro gathered his thoughts before the other two could. Senden and the slave-master still stared at him blankly by the time Ferro found his voice.

“No. I have no interest in protecting sheep. I’m going to stand here and make the slave-master miserable by pointing out his faults. And he has so many. I could stand here for a month and not run out.” The words tumbled out of Ferro in desperation. If he got dragged off to some remote estate, his father would have to organize a retrieval, and his father wasn’t likely to do that soon. No, it was better for him to stay here and wait for the major domo to fetch him back in a few days.

“Perhaps this is not a good idea,” Senden said, studying Lisias like he’d found a spot of leprosy on a newly bought racehorse.

“I know animals,” Lisias said. “I want him.”

Ferro narrowed his eyes. “I know you did not just call me an animal,” he warned darkly. Lisias tilted his head up in challenge, and again Ferro found his words stolen by the gods. This man was the most aggravating individual he’d ever met.

“No,” Ferro repeated.

“Master Senden,” Lisias said, tilting his head in respect to his new master. “Given rope and time, he would be an admirable tender, although I make no promises about his tongue.” Lisias looked over toward Ferro. “I am not well-known for my own control over my tongue when it comes down to it.”

Senden turned his back on Lisias and actually studied Ferro as if considering this lunacy. “No,” Ferro warned again. He pulled against the chains, for the first time truly aggravated by them. Senden looked back at Lisias, but the man stood there, his face utterly calm and utterly sure.

With a sigh, Senden threw up his hand. “I’ll take them both,” he said. Ferro’s mouth fell open.

3.

“This is a bad idea,” Ferro warned again, but he couldn’t do much else. Lisias was weaving the rope around his wrists without unlocking the chains, so Ferro couldn’t even throw a punch. That’d be a good way to get rejected. He’d get whipped, but his father had learned that whipping didn’t work about the time Ferro got old enough to play at bones and dice.

“No, it’s not,” Lisias said in that same annoyingly confident voice. Ferro jerked, but Lisias simply wrapped another loop of rope around his wrist above the shackles and tied a careful knot.

“I’m a bad slave.”

“No doubt.”

“The first time a wolf shows its muzzle, I’m heading for the nearest village.”

Lisias didn’t even bother to answer; he looked into Ferro’s eyes for long, uncomfortable seconds before he went back to his rope shackles. Ferro gave him credit for tying a mean knot. Ferro would have to chew at the rope for days to get it loose. Lisias took the rope ends and gave them a hard tug to set the newest knot in place.

“Look you don’t want me as a partner.”

“Bite or curse, and I’ll gag you. Since I only have rope, it will be an exceptionally painful gag, but the choice is yours,” Lisias said. It wasn’t a threat. Ferro didn’t react well to threats, but Lisias’ tone made it clear that he was giving simple information, and Ferro didn’t doubt he’d do exactly what he’d described. He’d been gagged with a strip of wool once, and the stuff had made the corners of his mouth bleed. He eyed the rough rope that Lisias had nearly finished tying around his wrists.

“I won’t bite or curse, but I’m going to point out that you’re an idiot. A huge idiot. Athene never graced you with one intelligent thought in your whole life if you think this is a good idea.”

“I have no complaints with Athene,” Lisias said as he gave the rope one last tug before running his fingers over the rope that wove over and around Ferro’s wrists. The complicated knots were too far up for Ferro’s clever fingers to reach.

“I can’t back you up if you plan on keeping me tied.”

Again, Lisias remained silent. He walked over to the table where the slave-master had left the key for Lisias to use as soon has he had secured his new master’s newest slave. Ferro held his breath as he waited for Lisias to come close. Unlike Lisias, Ferro had warrior training. One weapons-master had forced them to fight while bound. The students had commented on his sexual preferences given that he liked to see naked boys bound and fighting, but Ferro had learned a lot from the man. For one, he’d learned to use his legs as lethal weapons.

Lisias walked over and crouched down, his large hand resting on Ferro’s thigh while he stood to the side where it would be more difficult to kick him. Ferro clenched his teeth and ordered himself to show a little patience for a change. Lisias stroked his hand down Ferro’s leg and then brought it up to rest right under Ferro’s ass.

“A little personal there.”

“You’re a slave.”

Ferro narrowed his eyes. He’d been a slave ten or twelve times now. Other than Petrot, people generally didn’t touch him so casually. Actually, most of the time people didn’t touch him at all except to hit him with a crop or once, whip him. He’d actually earned that whipping. Leaving his hand there, Lisias reached down and unlocked the shackle, awkwardly shaking the key free of the lock while leaving his hand on Ferro’s leg. Ferro quickly realized he couldn’t tense his leg for a kick without warning Lisias. Bastard. Well, he could bide his time.

“Have you ever seen a god, Lisias?” Ferro asked casually.

“Saw Pan once,” Lisias said, but his attention was clearly on unlocking Ferro’s other leg without getting kicked. Despite the temptation, Ferro held himself still. If he tensed, he wouldn’t have enough time to follow through with a kick before Lisias could get out of the way. Lisias finished, and grabbed the leg shackles before backing away. “Either that or I saw a truly ugly child with an odd hat.” He dropped the leg shackles and key on the table.

“If you’re a tender, you’d better not insult your god.”

“Pan has talents enough without competing with Apollo. Not everyone has to be handsome.”

Ferro snorted. “I saw the Oracle at Trophonius once.”

Lisias grunted but his eyes focused on Ferro’s feet as he moved closer, no doubt judging how to unchain Ferro from the post without getting kicked to death. Unlocking his legs first had been a tactical error, one that Ferro was willing to exploit.

“I was too young to remember, but my parents love to tell the story.” Ferro waited for a response, but he didn’t get one. “The oracle told my parents that until I fully committed, I would bring danger and disaster to all those near me.” Ferro had grown up listening to his parents tell that story, usually when they were accusing Ferro of putting the whole family at risk by his failure to commit. Oh, his brothers could flit from activity to activity, and that was a natural boyish need to explore. His sister Hereclia was absolutely impossible to pin down for more than two minutes before she changed her mind again. But Ferro… no, he never got that freedom. And since he was the third son, unlikely to inherit any real authority, his parents had regretted having birthed him at all; Ferro could see that every time his father looked at him. His mother simply cried.

Ferro’s internal musing was interrupted by pain as something hit him behind the knees, and he slammed forward to the hard-packed earth, his cheek hitting the slave post he was chained to. “Gods and—” Ferro cut off his own curse since he wanted to avoid a gag, but he glared at Lisias who had swept his feet out from under him and now stood with one foot on the back of Ferro’s leg. “What was that?” Ferro demanded from between clenched teeth. Lisias leaned forward, his body pressing Ferro into the slave post and ensuring that he was helpless as Lisias unchained the wrist shackles.

“Being practical,” Lisias said without an ounce of apology in his voice.

“Well it hurt.”

“It didn’t hurt as much as a broken knee from a well-placed kick would have,” Lisias said, and Ferro pressed his lips together. Lisias might not be as easy to take down as Ferro expected. Once Lisias had him unchained from the post, Lisias pulled Ferro’s hands up and over his head and grabbed the rope between his wrists, holding them behind Ferro’s head. “Up.”

Ferro glared at the man over his shoulder, but he didn’t really have much choice here. He suspected Lisias would not take disobedience well. Grumbling softly enough that it couldn’t be called cursing, he struggled to his feet. “This is a horrible idea,” he said. Lisias pulled Ferro’s bound hands farther down his back, and Ferro grunted. If you annoyed Lisias, he would immediately make you pay: message received. Lisias grabbed the tie that went around Ferro’s waist to hold up his pants, pulling it while still holding Ferro’s arms. If Ferro tried to fight, he was going to be naked and suffering a dislocated shoulder in seconds. Gods above, but Lisias did know how to secure a man. Knowing he was temporarily subdued, Ferro went out into the front of the tent where the slave-master had the paperwork and the small altar to Hermes.

“Ready?” Senden asked with a concerned look in Ferro’s direction. He should be worried.

“Yes, sir,” Lisias answered. “If I might make a suggestion….” His voice trailed off, but Ferro still got the distinct impression that Lisias wasn’t used to asking permission to speak his mind. He wasn’t the good little slave he pretended, that’s for sure.

“Yes?”

“We should pick up a bow and arrow tips.”

Senden’s eyes went large. A bow was a weapon of warriors and hunters and soldiers, not of tenders who used their crook or a whip to fight. Lisias hid more than his share of surprises, and Ferro was starting to wonder if he hadn’t been a soldier at some point. It would certainly soothe his own ego to know that a simple herder hadn’t brought him to heel so quickly.

“Do you ply the bow?”

“No, sir, but this one does.”

Ferro stopped breathing for a moment, certain that Lisias must know who he was. To be a slave was no shame, but to be the unwanted child of royals had some shame attached. Ferro did not want this man who held him captive to know that. He would definitely rather avoid having his new owner know he was a cousin. “He has the calloused fingers of a bowman, and the shoulders, and given his arrogance, I doubt he would ply any trade for long without insisting on being the best.” Lisias’ words shocked Ferro to his core and he tried to twist around to see if he had an expression that would suggest sarcasm rather than genuine respect, but when Ferro tried, Lisias pulled down on Ferro’s hands sharply.

Ferro hissed in pain, but he fell silent rather than risk the gag. He truly hated Lisias.

“Is that true? Do you know the bow?” Senden stepped close, and Ferro could feel his whole body tighten. He wanted to make a joke of it or deny it, but Lisias pulled him back a little, his solid body silently warning that either would have consequences. Ferro simply didn’t know what the consequences were. If Lisias were honorable, lying might lead to nothing more serious than a whipping. Ferro had survived worse. However, if he were like Petrot, the consequences would be far more dangerous. Of course, were he like Petrot, he would not have tried to warn Ferro to behave on the post. Ferro’s mind spun as he tried to find some logical way to slip through all the new facts he’d gathered about his new owner and the tender who had brought him to heel so quickly.

“Answer,” Lisias said, a dark warning in his voice.

“Fine. Yes, I draw the bow quite well, if I do say so myself,” Ferro snapped. “Not that I could with my hands tied and both my shoulders dislocated.”

Senden’s eyebrows went up. “A follower of Apollo or Artemis?” he asked. A hunter of monsters and enemies or a hunter of game… well, Ferro wasn’t exactly either. He plied the bow because his father demanded that he commit to something. The bow was a less offensive pastime than some others.

“Mostly targets,” Ferro answered when he felt Lisias shift behind him. He didn’t need another lesson in manners from a tender.

Senden considered him for some time before nodding. “We’ll get a bow and some of those iron tips they’ve been importing from Rome.”

“Given how often their archers lose, are their weapons safe to take up against a wolf?” Lisias asked. Ferro barely suppressed a derisive snort at the man’s ignorance.

“I’m low enough in the family that I’m one good bump away from being sold myself,” Senden started slowly, “but I’ve heard that if it were only their weapons, the Romans would have won our war. Our gods favored us more than their gods favored them. Given they seem to have such a high regard for gods of war, that is surprising, but then their war gods are not the same as Athena. One of their three great gods is named Mars, and I have heard it tell that they compare him most to Ares.”

“And they worship him?” Lisias demanded. Ferro could see the confusion. People might sacrifice to Ares to ask for mercy in war, they might fear him, they might ask him for physical strength in a coming battle, but no one actually worshipped him. He was destruction… chaos… pain. He and his sister Enyo brought only suffering, and a wise man avoided them where possible.

“Which would explain why they lost so badly. Athena is not one to suffer fools who think war is glorious. But I imagine their iron-tipped arrows will take down a wolf and I’ve heard it said they can be shot a thousand times without losing a point if one is careful. We can stop at the smith before leaving for the estate.” That seemed to have settled the matter, and Senden turned and headed out of the slave-master’s tent.

“You know, I’d love a recurve bow, something done in ram’s horn and ox sinew and yew wood,” Ferro announced grandly. A man this poor could never afford imported yew wood; however, that was the point of the request. If Senden wanted to own Ferro, he would have to put up with being reminded of all the ways that he failed to meet Ferro’s expectations of a master.

“Sir, do you have a binding?” Lisias asked, which distracted some from Ferro’s well-crafted insult.

Senden frowned. “Are you injured?”

“No, sir, but there is more than one way to curse at a man, and Ferro has managed to find a way to curse at you.”

That seemed to amuse Senden, which put Ferro in an even worse mood. “I didn’t curse.”

“The intent was clearly there. Creativity in breaking the rules is not an admirable trait,” Lisias said firmly. If Lisias were older or if he were the master or even if he had a background as a soldier or hunter—someone with real authority—this would be easier. However, Ferro had a tender teaching him manners.

“You Medusa spawn. Don’t try and lecture me on the spirit of the rules,” he snapped. Senden handed over a light brown strip of what might be linen. Before Ferro could object, Lisias was tying it around his head. That meant that he wasn’t holding Ferro’s hands, and he tried to yank his hands down only to find that Lisias had fastened the long, trailing rope ends to Ferro’s waist tie so that he almost cut himself in half from pulling so hard.

Silently, Lisias tied the linen and tightened it until it slipped between Ferro’s teeth, pressing the edges of his mouth. While Ferro could still talk, he would sound foolish if he tried, so he settled for glaring at Lisias.

“Are you sure you want this one to have a bow?” Senden asked.

“He’s a good man. He needs only some tending,” Lisias answered, and gagged, Ferro didn’t even have the opportunity to object. Instead, he was forced to walk the shopkeeper stalls and tents, his bound hands pulled back behind his neck and his mouth gagged. As far as slave-sales went, this wasn’t one of his better memories.

4.

Ferro looked around the rough camp that would be his home until his father retrieved him. A pot stood near a fire, so they’d be having at least some hot meals. Hopefully. Lisias hadn’t removed the gag yet, so Ferro wasn’t sure on that point. Lisias set the rough bag with their food next to heavy storage jars. “It looks serviceable,” Lisias commented. He leaned Ferro’s new bow against one wall before he opened jars and checked the sleeping furs, taking them out into the sun to search for pests that might bite when they laid down. It must have passed inspection because after a good shaking, Lisias brought it back inside.

“I expect you to prove that you can control yourself by doing work before earning privileges,” Lisias said firmly as he came over and stood so close to Ferro that he could smell the man’s sweat. He was an impressive man, dark and well-muscled with pale eyes that studied everything. Ferro gave a short nod. He knew to play slave until the time came for him to return home. Disobedience wouldn’t earn him anything here.

“Good.” Lisias grabbed his arm and turned him. The rope connecting his hands to his waist tie loosened and Ferro moaned as he finally brought his hands down. Even if he wanted to fight, his shoulders hurt too much to try. Lisias’ hands rested against his shoulders, and Ferro waited, not knowing what to expect. When Lisias’ hands began rubbing his shoulders, first gently and then with strong fingers that kneaded sore muscles, Ferro could only groan and bite down on the gag so hard that he could feel a thin line of drool escape. He awkwardly wiped it away, and then let his hands fall back down as Lisias’ fingers found every sore spot, every knot and every strained muscle.

Ferro didn’t know how long he stood there with Lisias’ hands working his shoulders, but then Lisias turned him and reached for Ferro’s hands. Ferro watched as Lisias took each knot out as meticulously as he’d put it in.

“The food jars need emptying; do it far enough from the shelter that you don’t attract bugs back here. Get the food stores from Master Sender put into the correct jars and shake out the bags far enough away that you don’t leave grain in the dirt around here. Hang the bags from the ceiling.” Lisias continued to give instructions on how to sweep out the shelter and check the roof for leaks and repair any leaks. He gave enough instructions that Ferro would be busy for a month. He finally finished unwinding the rope as he finished his last instructions.

Instinctively, Ferro reached up for the gag, but Lisias caught his hand. “You need to earn that. A master owns the work of your hands, so unbound hands is a necessity. An unbound mouth is earned by obedience,” Lisias said firmly. Ferro narrowed his eyes. If he had an arrow shaft carved for one of his new iron tips, Lisias would be in trouble right now. Lisias, however, didn’t seem concerned.

“Every animal needs to be checked, the hooves inspected, the animals tended so they know to trust me. That will take days of hard work on top of guarding the flock, particularly at sunrise and sunset, and scouting out water and forage. I may not bring the herd back until near twilight, but make sure you have at least three arrows prepared.” Lisias took Ferro’s hand and turned it palm up before putting a knife in it. “Make sure your arrows fly straight. Wolves are cunning and dangerous enemies, and you may not survive a mistake.”

Ferro curled his fingers around the knife and looked down at Lisias’ scarred arm. Without a word, Lisias turned and left, leaving Ferro with a dilemma. He could untie the gag, but if this was a game he and Lisias were playing, if Lisias wanted to tame him, untying it felt like cheating. Ferro had no qualms with cheating, but he did have a strict policy of not cheating when he might get caught. And Athene herself must have graced Lisias because the man was too observant for a simple tender. He noticed too much and knew too much. Growling at himself, Ferro left the gag in place and went to check the storage jars.

By the time the sun started sinking low, Ferro had wiped out the storage jars and put the new supplies in them. It was simple food, stewed and dried grains for porridge, dark breads, a little olive oil. Sender had sent along some dried cheese and a bag of fresh cheese they would have to eat quickly to avoid spoilage. He’d even sent a very small amount of olives, but Ferro could only look at these things with envy and scratch his cheek where the linen made it itch.

The sound of hooves scrabbling over the rocky terrain warned him that Lisias was back. Sheep and goats hopped over or walked around rocks as they pressed close to the shelter and the smell of them made Ferro sneeze, an uncomfortable proposition with the gag.

Lisias came last, carrying a ewe that was heavy with lamb. They were large animals, and the sheer strength required to carry a pregnant one any length of time impressed Ferro. Lisias had his whip hanging from his belt and a shepherd’s crook strapped to his back, the bent end up over his head. His black curls contrasted against the white sheep that seemed content to ride in his arms. He strode forward looking like some god of sheep. Anyway, he might if it weren’t for the fact that Pan was the god of herdsmen, and he was not a handsome god. Lisias was. Handsome anyway, Ferro wasn’t convinced he was a god.

Lisias carefully lowered the sheep to the ground and she went immediately to a patch of grass to graze, visibly favoring her right front leg. Striding through the herd, Lisias touched each animal he passed, and each seemed to keep an eye on him as he moved through them. Ferro could understand the feeling. Lisias did have a habit of commanding attention.

Lisias came into the shelter and looked around. Ferro watched him, waiting for the inevitable complaints that Ferro hadn’t done something well. However, Lisias sat down with a grunt and looked in the pot. Ferro had put some of the porridge grains into water with a few wild onions he’d found by the stream. Lisias stuck his finger in the mixture and brought some to his mouth, smiling as he sucked it off his finger. The image of the man sucking reminded Ferro’s cock of his first impression of Lisias. The man breathed sex appeal. To hell with Athena, maybe Aphrodite had blessed him.

Still not speaking, Lisias crooked his finger for Ferro to come over, pointing to the ground in front of him. Ferro narrowed his eyes, but Lisias continued pointing, and there really wasn’t a way to have a decent argument while gagged. Realizing he would have to yield, Ferro slowly went to his knees in front of Lisias.

Lisias’ work-rough hands and long fingers ran over Ferro’s cheeks and under the gag. He threaded his fingers through Ferro’s hair and stroked his head. When Ferro pulled back from the oddly affectionate gesture, Lisias’ hands tightened, and Ferro found himself trapped by a strength he couldn’t hope to compete with. He settled down, fully expecting Lisias to be angry, but Lisias simply went back to stroking Ferro’s hair. Unlike most people, Ferro didn’t have a lot of curl to his hair, which made his hair smooth and slick. Most of his lovers had enjoyed touching it, but Lisias wasn’t a lover. Ferro had no problem with making him a lover, but so far, Lisias seemed more interested in controlling him than bedding him.

When Lisias finally finished, he worked the knot in the linen, gently easing it out of Ferro’s mouth, and Ferro could feel the corners of his mouth sting from contact with the air. He reached up and touched the sore spot.

“Ow.”

“Disobedience hurts,” Lisias agreed. “Do you want cheese or olives with the meal?” he asked before Ferro could respond.

“Cheese,” Ferro said, pulling away from Lisias to sit on the far side of the fire. The man kept him so off guard. Ferro hated that. He also hated that he could see a beautiful body and wasn’t getting invited to taste a little of it.

“We have a ewe that recently lost her lamb and is still making milk. Sour milk is good for making porridge.”

“Milk?” Ferro asked uneasily. In his opinion, milk was for cheese and nothing else.

“It will keep her producing milk until lambing season is over and we go into closer pasture for milking season,” Lisias said as he pulled off some dark bread and handed it over to Ferro. Ferro’s mouth was sore so chewing the thick stuff required concentration if he wanted to avoid showing pain. “Animal tenders learn to use whatever they have, much as you took advantage of the wild onion, and milk is fairly palatable if you let it sour some and use it for cooking. Tomorrow you’ll learn the animals; however, they will know your tone and not your words. Do not break the spirit of the rules again by cursing them with a tone.”

Ferro watched Lisias warily. “If I do?”

Lisias stopped chewing the bread and looked at Ferro for some time. “You already know the answer,” Lisias finally said.

So it would be the gag again. Ferro hated it, but at least Lisias wasn’t upping the ante to a beating and the gag. Taking the gag, Ferro shook it out and hung it from one of the root supports next to the bags. If it got dirty, Lisias still wouldn’t hesitate to use it, and Ferro suspected he would earn it again eventually. Sitting down, he scratched his cheek and wondered how ridiculous he looked with bright red marks from the gag etched into his face.

5.

Ferro watched a ram prance past while eyeing him warily. The animal didn’t trust Ferro the way it did Lisias. It took Lisias one day for every member of the herd to press close to him at the first sign of danger. After four days, the animals still eyed him as an interloper who had wandered into their gazing lands. In those same four days, Ferro had discovered that tending was two parts blindingly hard work as they tried to convince stubborn animals to go in a particular direction and three parts blinding boredom as you watched the animals graze. Ferro never had done boredom well.

Ferro looked up to where Lisias rested in the shade of a wild fig tree using one of their packs for a pillow. They’d abandoned the shelter to take the animals farther up the mountain, and Ferro found himself missing the porridge. Dark bread and wine were not enough to sustain a man, unless that man were Lisias. He seemed to have no trouble with the hardship. Ferro’s bow leaned against a nearby rock, but target practice had grown boring. He liked the way Lisias would watch with an approving expression, but he’d broken three arrow shafts, and replacing them was more difficult here than at home where he only had to demand the bow-master provide replacements.

“So, which of us do you think is older?” Ferro asked as he strolled up the rocky hillside to Lisias’ perch. Enough was enough. There was one form of entertainment available to them, and Ferro intended to indulge.

“Me,” Lisias answered without pause.

“You only say that because you want to mount me instead of the other way around,” Ferro said with confidence. He wasn’t committed to the idea of the older male always dominating, but that was the traditional view. For Lisias, though, he’d allow a younger man to mount him.

Lisias looked Ferro up and down. “I’m older.”

“My boyish charm and cute face has distracted you from the fact that I’m thirty.”

“I’m older,” Lisias stood up and started walking the north side of the herd, totally ignoring the offer of sex Ferro had just made.

Ferro had to trot to keep up with Lisias’ long strides. “If you are, that would suggest you should do the mounting unless you want to do some mutual rubbing.”

“Not interested.”

“What? What do you mean not interested?” Ferro stopped. “Gods and goddesses would want this body,” Ferro said as he held out his hands to show off his many attributes. His hair shined black under the sun, hanging almost to his shoulders. He was fairer than most men with dark eyes that stood out. Years of training had given him muscles that moved smoothly under his skin and his privileged life had kept him from aging early.

“Then go find one,” Lisias suggested.

Ferro narrowed his eyes and trotted faster until he caught up with the man. “What game are you playing with me? I will warn you, I’m not fond of being played with.”

Lisias didn’t comment as he pursed his lips and waited. Ferro mentally reviewed the conversation, and blushed when he realized what he’d said. However, he wasn’t going to back down on the issue.

Crossing his arms, Ferro did his best to imitate Lisias’ own implacable expression. “If you want something, you say it up front. You don’t drag me out here, feel me up, and then turn down an offer of sex.”

Lisias twitched an eyebrow. These non-answers were starting to annoy Ferro, especially when they inevitably left him struggling with his own thoughts. Ferro forced himself into silence and set himself the task to outwait Lisias. After a few minutes of a staring contest surrounded by sheep and goats and the craggy Thessaliotis mountains, Lisias’ lips actually twitched in amusement.

“Yes!” Ferro said with satisfaction. Lisias’ eyebrows went up. “Now explain what you’re doing.”

For several seconds, Lisias didn’t answer, and Ferro started to feel the aggravation he always got in the pit of his stomach when things weren’t fair. He’d won their staring contest. He’d earned a few answers. With a sigh, Lisias headed over to a large rock and sat on it, looking down at the grazing herd. “I don’t want easy sex here.”

“That’s amusing because I have a reputation for being fairly easy.”

Lisias studied Ferro for so long that Ferro started to squirm uncomfortably. “I suspect you’re anything but easy,” Lisias finally said.

Ferro rolled his eyes. He didn’t need platitudes from a potential lover. He knew his strengths and his flaws. “Just because you took me down as easily as a new-born colt doesn’t mean that I have some fragile ego that you have to coddle.”

“I never suspected it.”

“You only beat me because I had my hands tied,” Ferro said firmly. True, he’d never faced an opponent with as much sheer strength as Lisias, but he’d been trained to overcome brute force with finesse. He hadn’t used enough finesse last time, but he hadn’t known that a simple tender would have so much more strength than the soldiers he’d been trained to fight. He’d do better this time. Besides, Lisias caught him off guard. The man fought dirty.

Lisias leaned forward and studied him for a time, that habitual silence settling in around him so that Ferro wanted to poke him until he cursed or demanded answers or did something familiar rather than watching with those pale eyes of his. He reached over and scratched his scarred arm. “Loser pays a forfeit,” he finally offered.

“Drachmas?” Ferro asked.

Lisias’ eyebrows went up. “You’re a slave, how do you intend to get any?”

“As soon as my family shows up, they’ll settle this and pay any debts.”

“And if you win, how am I to pay a forfeit of drachmas?” Lisias asked. That was a problem because slaves generally didn’t have money, not unless they managed money, and then it wasn’t their money.

Ferro could feel his skin warm as he realized he’d said something truly stupid. “What would you suggest, then?” he asked, already aggravated enough that he wished he could cut the conversation short.

“Traditional wager of Elpis?” Lisias offered.

“Elpis, the spirit of hope?” Ferro clarified. He hadn’t heard of a wager of Elpis before, and he had learned to be wary around Lisias. “What kind of wager would that be?”

A flash of surprise crossed Lisias’ face, and Ferro felt irrationally proud of the fact that he forced the man to abandon his stoic mask. “You had an interesting childhood.” Before Ferro could ask what that meant, Lisias continued. “A wager of Elpis means that you can claim anything you want as long as it does no harm to the loser or anyone else.”

Ferro frowned, wondering if this was some trick because Ferro had already offered up his ass, and there was nothing else he could imagine Lisias claiming. “Are you going to make me dance naked while shaking a gourd?”

Now Lisias looked utterly shocked. “I hadn’t planned it, no.”

“Huh.” Ferro studied Lisias. The man preferred a close-in fighting style, and Ferro could counter that. If he beat Lisias, that would give him a chance to demand… actually, Ferro wasn’t sure what he could demand. Use of all the sleeping furs all to himself, maybe. Lying next to a warm body, feeling Lisias turn over and his hand rest against Ferro’s stomach, and then knowing there would be no sex in the morning—that was harder than Ferro would have expected. If he couldn’t have sex, he’d settle for one night’s sleep without Lisias’ scent and the heat of his body to remind Ferro how much he wanted sex.

“Deal,” he said as he pushed away from the rock he’d been leaning against and jumped down a rough step to a larger flat area. One of the sheep eyed him and bleated loudly before wandering to the far side of the clearing and hopping up to another plateau. Ferro had enough room to work here. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it at the nearest rock before he spun around and bounced on his toes.

Instead of showing any admiration for Ferro’s very fine body, Lisias commented, “You’re wasting energy.”

“I have it to waste,” Ferro said with a grin as he reached for his pants.

“No,” Lisias said so firmly that Ferro dropped his hands to the side before he could remind his traitorous body that it didn’t take orders well.

“You want to wrestle in our clothes?” he asked in shock.

“I don’t want to get caught naked when I’m tending a flock,” Lisias said with a nod toward the hillside dotted with the white forms of goats and sheep.

“We’ll rip them,” Ferro warned, not sure why Lisias would want to do something so odd.

“Not if you’re careful,” Lisias said. He pulled his own shirt over his head, and Ferro swallowed as he got a good look at the man. His muscles were hard lines under his skin. Even the soldiers brought in to train Ferro hadn’t had such chiseled bodies. A sculptor would pay to own a man like Lisias. His thick black hair had led Ferro to believe Lisias would be hairy everywhere, but his chest was sparsely sprinkled with dark curls. The only significant hair started just under his belly button and led south, vanishing under the tie of his pants.

His arm wasn’t his only scar, only his worst. He had a white line of scar along his upper stomach and a patch of slick burn-scar in a line that started above his collarbone and went up to the top of his shoulder. Ferro might put that down to a childhood accident with a hot brazier, but there was a constellation of pinpoint burns splattered around it. Ferro was painfully aware that he offered only one scar, a nasty knife mark right above his heart, but he hadn’t earned that in a fight—not even a training fight. Petrot had gifted him that when he was hanging in the man’s chains, waiting for his father to show up. Ferro had returned the favor, marking Petrot before sending him to his father’s prison. However, Ferro suspected that Lisias’ scars were battle wounds, even if he was only a tender.

“For a shepherd, you are well-marked,” Ferro remarked.

“Regretting your wager?” Lisias asked. Despite the fact that he had to be close to Ferro’s own age, Ferro felt like a child getting schooled.

“You still aren’t going to win. Having your mother drop a pot of soup on your shoulder doesn’t qualify as intimidating,” Ferro said. The second the words slipped out his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake. Lisias’ face lost all emotion and his fingers curled. However, Lisias didn’t curse him or demand an apology. He stalked forward, his body arms held out as he waited to counter Ferro’s attack.

Ferro swallowed, the sheer strength and the lack of a referee sending adrenaline through his veins. He circled Lisias, searching for an opening, a moment of hesitation or a glimmer of weakness. Lisias shifted in the center of Ferro’s orbit, watching with his hands out and ready. Overhead a bird screamed, and Ferro held his breath, waiting for Lisias to look up. At the sound of a bird cry, everyone looked up to see if it was an eagle, a sure sign that Zeus watched. However, Lisias never shifted his gaze.

Ferro could feel the sweat gather along his spine as he started to realize that this wasn’t a training match and Lisias wasn’t going to offer up some weakness in order to start the battle so that it could be over in time to enjoy wine, alfita bread and raisins. Something darker stirred, and the air seemed to grow heavier. In the distance, the bird cried again, and Ferro reversed direction.

Still, Lisias only watched, his body shifting and his muscles standing out as he braced himself. Ferro tried telling himself that Lisias wasn’t trained. He was a tender of sheep and goats, a man with no heritage and only brute strength on his side. However, Ferro’s gut refused to believe that. Ferro feigned, fully expecting Lisias to commit himself to a charge so that Ferro could get him off balance. Instead, Lisias only put one foot back to brace for Ferro’s attack. And of course Ferro aborted the attack. He couldn’t afford to get too close to Lisias’ hands until he had Lisias off-balance.

Ferro’s circles slowed. He couldn’t afford to wear himself out before the battle started. “Are we fighting or staring at each other?” Ferro asked as he finally came to a stop. Nothing he did tempted Lisias from his position in the center of the clearing.

“Fighting,” Lisias answered. It was a typical one-word Lisias response, and Ferro sighed.

“Then why aren’t we actually fighting? I feign, you counter, I attack, you counterattack. Does any of this sound familiar?”

“We are fighting, Ferro,” Lisias said, his gaze still locked on Ferro. Ferro had held his hand in a defensive position, but that made him throw them in the air. Not even that tempted Lisias off his tiny territory in the center.

“You’re the most aggravating man I’ve ever met. You probably chose herding because other people told you how aggravating you are on such a regular basis you couldn’t take it anymore.” Again, Lisias watched without reaction, his body still coiled for violence even as it settled into a state of perpetual waiting. “You’ll probably gag me for even saying that, won’t you?”

“No. It’s close enough to the truth to pass as a sister,” Lisias responded.

Ferro dropped both of his hands to his sides. He could well imagine how frustrated others became with this attitude of total assurance. “Are we going to fight?”

“We are Ferro,” Lisias repeated. “It’s your move.”

With a growl, Ferro threw himself forward, his hands reaching for Lisias even though a large part of his brain screamed at him that it was the world’s stupidest move. Lisias caught his arm, and Ferro tried to use his momentum to swing Lisias around, just as his instructors had taught him. Unfortunately, his instructors had never planned on him trying to move the ultimate unmovable object. Ferro lost his balance as he tried to pull Lisias off his feet, and that allowed Lisias to yank Ferro forward so fast that Ferro didn’t have time to get in more than one solid punch to Lisias’ side before Lisias turned him. One quick jerk, and Ferro felt himself fall to the ground, Lisias’ arms still around him. He barely had time to get his hands out to catch himself, and that left his center unprotected.

The second Lisias wrapped his arms around Ferro’s waist, Ferro knew he’d lost, but he couldn’t give up on the fight—that wasn’t in him. He dug his toes into the rocky ground and shoved back. However, Lisias was entirely too solid to move him. Lisias arms tightened around Ferro, and Ferro could feel his ribs strain under the pressure. Throwing his elbows back, he tried to break Lisias’ hold. He hit, but rather than flinch or swear, Lisias just held on, his forehead pressing into the back of Ferro’s neck as he tucked close enough to prevent Ferro from hitting anything vital.

Feeling lightheaded from not being able to suck in a full breath, Ferro struggled to roll, but when he went to press his hand against the earth, he couldn’t find the strength to lift them. As soon as he got home, he was telling his father to demand a refund for every fighting-master he’d ever purchased. A herder was beating him, and Ferro couldn’t come up with a way to slip free.

“Do you yield?” Lisias demanded.

Ferro panted and squirmed harder. His vision started to gray, and muscles relaxed involuntarily as they fatigued, but Ferro still struggled to get his body to obey him.

“Yield before you pass out, young fool,” Lisias hissed his ear. Ferro didn’t have the breath left to talk, so he gave a nod. Lisias held on for a few more seconds, and Ferro curled his fingers into the dust as consciousness started to fade. Then the arms were gone, and Ferro gasped, the dust coating his tongue as he opened his mouth to gulp air. He felt his arms moved over his head, and he didn’t protest as Lisias quickly tied him again. Zeus’ eyes. If this is what Lisias wanted, he could have had it without the fight. Ferro had invited him to do the mounting, after all.

When he was picked up, Ferro found enough life to protest, shoving his hands against Lisias’ strong shoulder. “I can walk.”

Lisias’ snort made it clear that he questioned that. He deposited Ferro in the shade of the scraggly fig tree, and Ferro looked at the complicated series of knots tying him again. “On your stomach, get comfortable,” Lisias said, tossing one of the packs at Ferro. Ferro tried to catch it, but with his hands bound, he only managed to deflect it so it landed to the side. Lisias stood looking down at him, arms crossed. He still hadn’t put his shirt on, and Ferro studied the scar.

“I will if you tell me how you were burned.”

“Yield or denounce Elpis,” Lisias said firmly.

Ferro opened his mouth, and if he’d been facing his father or one of his brothers, he might have done it. Denouncing a god or breaking a vow made in a god’s name was act one in most of the tragedies Ferro had ever attended. They hadn’t affected him. However, seeing Lisias’ tight jaw and the stress in that strong body, Ferro could see that it mattered to him. Besides, the old gods were known to wander the hills more often than the theaters. Realizing that he wouldn’t denounce Elpis and that he couldn’t outwait Lisias, Ferro turned to the pack and started pulling out the sleeping furs. Moving awkwardly, he spread out the fur and plopped himself down on his stomach as inartfully as he could.

Lisias chuckled, and then his hands reached around Ferro’s waist to pull at the tie. “I miss the days of traditional robes. They were easier to move aside,” Lisias said as he pulled the tie free and then eased Ferro’s pants down over his ass. A cooling breeze drifted over his skin, and Ferro took deep breaths as he wondered how Lisias would use him. Hard and fast? Would he be one who liked to use as little oil as possible? Those thoughts stoked Ferro’s anger at losing, but he knew Lisias would never be one to enjoy another’s pain. He didn’t have that in him.

Lisias hands ran up the back of Ferro’s calves, exploring the curve, and Ferro took deep breaths as those hands approached his ass. He had no idea why his body was so coiled with anger at this. He’d wanted it. He still did want it. Yet his emotions raged like a summer storm. Lisias stroked upward, his rough hands kneading the back of Ferro’s thighs, and Ferro’s cock warmed to the idea, even if Ferro’s head was still conflicted. Either way, it would happen. He’d lost the wager, and he would pay.

Thumbs brushed over his crack, and Ferro tensed. However, Lisias moved on, his hands now resting against Ferro’s ass, massaging the muscles and making Ferro’s cock grow harder. The silence rested heavily against Ferro.

“Are you starting soon?” Ferro demanded.

“I already have,” came Lisias’ answer, and then the man’s hands slid over Ferro’s waist up to his lower back. Thumbs traced the spine all the way up to Ferro’s neck and then back down, and Ferro squirmed. If Lisias wanted sex, Ferro would oblige, but he wasn’t an animal to be stoked and petted.

“Throw the spear or move aside before Ares takes you,” Ferro snapped, his old spear-master’s curse falling from his lips before he could gather up the remains of his common sense. He froze, his whole body starting to tremble.

“Hush, Ferro. You haven’t broken faith with Elpis, but I do think that bringing Ares’ name into this suggests that anyone throwing spears with you has thrown poorly,” he said, twisting Ferro’s own sexual metaphor.

“You aren’t going to….” Ferro stopped. If Lisias was in a forgiving mood, Ferro wouldn’t question it.

“Gag you? You know I am,” Lisias said calmly as he reached for the pack. He pulled the linen out, and Ferro narrowed his eyes at how easily Lisias had retrieved it.

“You’ve just been waiting to use that, haven’t you?” he asked, turning over on the furs. Two seconds too late he realized that his hard cock was then on display for Lisias to see. Even if Ferro had reservations, his cock didn’t.

“I expected that you would run out of self-control long ago. I need to be able to help you control yourself when you aren’t able,” Lisias said as he brought the strip up. Ferro clenched his teeth together, determined to fight this. With a perfectly calm expression, Lisias pressed a spot under Ferro’s jaw, and Ferro’s mouth opened instinctively, saliva filling it. Despite the fact that Ferro used his bound hands to pull at Lisias’ arm, Lisias calmly tied the gag around Ferro’s mouth before he threaded his fingers through Ferro’s hair.

“Such a beautiful man you are,” he said, his voice full of affection despite the fact he had just gagged Ferro. Ferro grunted and shoved at Lisias with his hands, but Lisias only caught the trailing end of the rope and moved to the base of the fig tree, hauling Ferro with him. He tied the rope off about two feet above the ground where a low branch angled off from the main trunk, and Ferro clung to that branch, hopelessly off balance with only his knees on the fur as he fought against the restraints.

Lisias’ hands went back to work, mapping Ferro’s body one inch at a time. He weighed Ferro’s balls in his hand, pressing them up to Ferro’s body so that Ferro arched his back and sucked in air. He ran a finger up Ferro’s traitorously hard cock. But then his hands went back to their gentle exploration of the rest of Ferro’s body. Ferro had a doctor perform massages on him once; he’d been hired by Ferro’s father to improve his disposition, but they had been something to endure. Lisias’ massage slowly brought his whole body to life until it wasn’t just his cock but all his skin that burned fever-hot, hungry for more touch.

When Lisias reached into the pack again, this time he brought out a small bottle. Ferro’s breath caught in his chest, and he tried to push his hips back, but Lisias only poured some oil onto his palms and rubbed them together before considering Ferro as though he were one of Lisias’ sheep. Ferro might have cursed him out if not for the gag. Instead he grunted loudly.

Lisias started on Ferro’s upraised ass, massaging the muscles as well as any doctor, but each stoke drove Ferro farther into desire with no way to satisfy it. His cock hung uselessly in the air, hot and heavy as it swung slowly as Ferro’s body moved to the deliberate rhythms of Lisias’ work. Lisias worked down one leg until he could press fingers to the bottoms of Ferro’s foot. Then he moved to the other foot before working his way up the leg.

Ferro was nearly crying, his moans through his gag constant as desire turned from a fire to a conflagration that threated to devour him, but Lisias’ hands simply moved up to work Ferro’s lower back, seeking out every muscle and tracing it back to its source, even as Ferro hung his head, his moans turning into mewls of need. Lisias moved up to his shoulders, oil slicked hands sliding up Ferro’s arms to where the bindings started and then back down to his shoulders where he massaged the oil in for heavy minutes before sliding his hands back up Ferro’s arms.

Ferro struggled against the rope, his body aching with need. “Please,” he begged through the gag, his words muffled and muted. “For the mercy of Zeus, please,” he begged. He couldn’t do anything else. He needed to have Lisias or he needed to die. Lisias paused, and for one tortured moment, Ferro was afraid that this was a jest, that the forfeit would be Lisias working him up and then leaving him tethered to a tree.

“Now you know what it is to want, Ferro. Have you ever wanted anyone before?”

Ferro shook his head, his hair falling in his eyes. He hadn’t. He’d never wanted with this soul-deep hunger before. Lisias stood, stealing his warmth, and Ferro cried out wordlessly.

“Hush, Ferro. I’m here,” Lisias promised. He returned, this time naked, and Ferro could see his heavy cock standing out from the thick, black curls. The head was already slick from precome. “I’m here,” Lisias repeated, his hands returning to stroke Ferro’s heated body. “I want you so much,” Lisias confessed in a rough voice, his fingers slipping into the crack that hid Ferro’s hole. Ferro fought the ropes, pushing himself back into that touch and widening his knees.

“Listen carefully,” Lisias whispered in Ferro’s ear, the air tickling him as it moved his hair. “The forfeit was the privilege of touching you, of feeling you. The wager is paid with the pleasure I’ve gained from seeing you yield to me. If you want me to mount you, I will, but I do not want easy sex, Ferro. I am the ram that will butt heads with the universe or the gods themselves, but I do not do easy. So tell me, do you want me to cover you?”

“Yesss,” Ferro begged, the word pressed from him by a desire he hadn’t ever known. The heat where Lisias touched him seemed to burn, and Ferro pressed into that point of contact.

“My beautiful Ferro,” Lisias soothed him, moving to a point behind Ferro, and Ferro clutched the tree branch, panting as he felt slicked fingers move into him. He pressed back, squirming as he fought the rope, biting his gag until a line of spit slipped out of the corner of his mouth and tickled its way down his chin, but still, Lisias moved at his own unhurried pace. Two fingers and Ferro could feel himself struggle for air, his whole body shifting into some survival mode where he could only feel Lisias. The tree and the world itself vanished and there was only Lisias spreading him, making his muscles stain before yielding.

The cock pressing against his hole made Ferro cry out with relief as the promised mounting finally approached. Lisias rested a hand against Ferro’s back, stoking him gently while whispering words Ferro was no longer able to understand. When Lisias pressed forward, Ferro threw his head back, his whole body tightening with a need for more. Lisias caught his hair in a fist as he slid the rest of the way in, and Ferro was so beautifully trapped. There was no need to commit because he was perfectly taken. Back arched, Lisias’ fist pulling his head back until his neck strained—Lisias’ cock plunged deep inside him—Lisias’s ropes binding his hands—Lisias’ gag pressing deep into his mouth. Ferro cried out again, the pleasure rolling through him in waves.

Lisias pulled back slowly, and Ferro returned to his quiet mewls as Lisias rocked in and out, using Ferro’s body for his own pleasure. The hand released his hair, and Ferro dropped his head down, feeling a dozen small drops of sweat slide down his face, but it didn’t matter. Lisias’ hands held his waist, strong fingers tight enough to bruise, and Ferro closed his eyes against the stinging sweat and rode out the wave, letting his body move with the tides Lisias directed.

Lisias reached down and fisted Ferro’s cock, sliding down it and then tightening before moving it back up, and that’s all it took. Ferro screamed and came, his body clenching down on the cock inside him. Then Lisias slammed forward, mounting Ferro hard with powerful thrusts that pushed him forward. Ferro cried out again, clinging to the branch and arching his back as Lisias took him harder than any lover ever had.

Finally Lisias came, his thrusts slowing as he panted, his hands resting against Ferro’s ass. Time paused, and they were one body. A moment later, he finally slipped free, and Ferro felt empty. He wanted Lisias’ cock back in him. For a time, they stayed in place, Ferro clinging to his branch, and Lisias kneeling behind him, both hands resting on Ferro’s ass. Ferro slowly became aware of his aching shoulders and the way his wrists felt overstretched.

“You are a beautiful man, but hardly easy,” Lisias said as he finally moved to Ferro’s side and used a hand on Ferro’s ass to push himself to his feet. Ferro would have disagreed, only he was gagged, and if that was what sex was supposed to feel like, Ferro had to agree that he did not couple easily. He might come easily, but he’d never felt that. Lisias moved to the tree and untethered Ferro before leading him back so he could lie on his back on the furs. Settling down next to Ferro, Lisias worked at the wrist ropes. Ferro had tightened the knots by fighting so hard, but he watched while Lisias patiently picked each one loose. Eventually, Lisias freed him and wound the rope into a neat coil he could set beside the pack.

With a sigh, Lisias spread out on the furs, and Ferro moved to his side, taking the traditional posture of the submissive with his head resting on Lisias’ shoulder and his leg draped over Lisias’ body.

“Happy?” Lisias asked.

Ferro nodded. He was. He was happy and at peace, two emotions he had little experience with.

“Do you want the gag out?”

Ferro nodded again.

“If I told you that you looked beautiful gagged and that I preferred to keep you with a bound mouth, would you obey that?” Lisias asked, his voice edged with curiosity.

Ferro thought about that. He didn’t like the gag, but he did like the idea of pleasing Lisias. More than that, he trusted Lisias to not leave the gag in so long or so tight that it actually hurt him. Lisias never hurt any creature under his protection. Ferro nodded. He’d wear the gag if that’s what Lisias wanted.

Lisias gave Ferro a rare smile, stroking Ferro’s cheek with the back of a finger. That settled, Ferro lay his head down and closed his eyes.

“You really would leave that on forever, wouldn’t you?” Lisias asked, but his fingers were already working the knot on the linen.

Ferro sighed as the gag finally came free, reaching up to rub his sore mouth.

“Do you like the gag?” Lisias asked.

“Not even a little,” Ferro admitted. He didn’t. He did like Lisias taking total control, but that wasn’t the same as liking the taste of a dusty cloth shoved deep into his mouth. “I like you,” Ferro admitted. He sounded like a drama at a Dionysian festival. He didn’t care.

For a long time they lay, the sound of bleating sheep or a goat complaining to a neighbor occasionally interrupting the perfect silence. When Lisias shifted, Ferro could feel the real world press closer, though.

He gave a soft sigh, and Ferro opened his eyes to see if he could read Lisias’ expression. “I need to know, Ferro. When your family comes, do you commit to this life or will you return to the one that has left you so unhappy?”

Ferro tensed, the word “commit” stirring up too many memories. However, denying Lisias wasn’t possible. His tongue refused to form the words. Instead he turned the question back with a question. “Why did you choose me?” It was the question Ferro had desperately wanted to ask since coming, but the wrong answer would shatter his world; he could feel that as surely as he could feel the dappled sun across his bare legs.

“Because you would die before leaving me injured and alone. Because if a wolf attacked, he would find only strength, not weakness. Because you are a tender at heart.” The three statements were more than Lisias had ever offered, well, unless he counted orders. Lisias could get quite detailed in his orders.

“I’ve never tended before. The sheep hate me.”

Lisias smiled. “The sheep sense that you are not fully here. They are animals, Ferro. They only know how to give themselves to one activity at a time, and you confuse them. But you are a tender.” From someone else, those words would have been an insult. Calling the prince, even the third prince, a sheep-tender was enough to warrant a whipping under normal circumstances, but from Lisias, the words were a compliment.

“You can’t know that,” Ferro said, his emotions roiling inside his chest until it physically hurt.

“I do know that, Ferro. When you spoke of the man who hurt you, you said it was better for evil to choose you so that you could root it out. You would choose to endanger yourself to protect an innocent, and only a good man—only a good tender—would ever make that choice.”

Ferro shook his head.

“The girl, you offered her a blessing. Who is your family, Ferro? How high are they? How much is your blessing worth, and yet you gave it to a slave girl clutching a basket of wares and terrified out of her mind. How many of your own have you cast a blessing on, Ferro? How many of them have you refused to bless?”

Ferro sucked in air. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. After sex, his partner would offer a quick thanks and vanish, going off to tell tales of how the king’s youngest truly was as easy as everyone suggested. They would sneak off and whisper tales of the prophecy and place bets on how much the first family would suffer because they were not strong enough to end their son’s life. Hell, his father might have done that. On the day of the prophecy, he might have slit his infant’s throat on the spot if he hadn’t known how the gods had punished Oedipus’ parents for trying exactly that. So instead his father raised a son he hated. Ferro’s whole body jerked as his heart finally admitted a truth he’d spent his life avoiding, and Lisias gathered him up like a fallen lamb. Ferro didn’t even have the energy to protest it.

“You are a tender. Whatever lies have been whispered in your ear, I see your heart. Trust me, Ferro. Be mine. Commit yourself to me. Denounce your ties to your family right now before the gods, and I will tend you. You don’t need a family that would leave you dying inside while still struggling so hard to show them your true nature.”

“I stole my father’s horse, took it out to race,” Ferro said, his words coming out between the gasps. Lisias’ fingers still combed through his hair, that crooning sound still soothing him. “I stole,” Ferro repeated just in case Lisias’ had missed it.

“I heard you. You also blessed a girl. You would put yourself in the path of danger. You would die before letting a wolf get his teeth into me,” Lisias said with such confidence that Ferro could almost believe him. “You can’t be mine and theirs. You have to choose whose tending you most want,” Lisias said, his hand fisting Ferro’s hair so that he could force Ferro to turn toward him. “Choose before the gods, Ferro.”

“You,” Ferro choked out. “I renounce all claims to Vello, king of Argolis and Praxilla, his wife. I renounce all claims as son of the first family.” His voice grew stronger until he could feel himself shout the words to the heavens. “I renounce Vello and Praxilla and their sons, Elpidio and Parodio who shall never have me as a brother after this. I renounce Achilla and Hagale and Heraclia, and proclaim that they have only two brothers from this time forward.” Ferro stopped, panting as his head seemed to float above his body. Lisias’ fingers stroked him. “You have to believe that I want you,” Ferro whispered.

“I do, Ferro. I’ll always believe you,” Lisias promised. “Ferro, look.”

Ferro didn’t have the energy to move, but Lisias’ voice commanded it, and he forced himself to stretch up enough to see over Lisias. An eagle sat on the branch of a dead tree, his silhouette stark against the storm darkened sky. “I mean it, Zeus,” Ferro said, not sure if he was being a superstitious fool or not. “I would rather have Lisias than all the wealth of first family, and if I am going to commit fully to anything in my life, it will be to him.”

The eagle tilted its head for a moment, and then, with a scream, it took off into the sky.

Lisias chuckled. “Leave it to you to get mouthy with Zeus.”

6.

Ferro stretched, his body feeling every mark Lisias had placed on it in the last few days. One of the ewes came up to him, butting his leg before wandering off to a patch of green. “Good morning to you, too,” Ferro said with a laugh. She was one of the older mothers, and she seemed to think her day hadn’t started until she’d bullied Ferro.

Lisias was stretched in a patch of shade, his fingers working a small cord into a complex rope. “Morning,” Ferro offered. Lisias didn’t say anything. He still wasn’t the most talkative of men, but he left off his braiding and held out a hand. Ferro took it, allowing Lisias to pull him down.

“You look like you’re thinking something important,” Ferro commented. For a time, Lisias was silent as he watched the herd. Words never came easy to Lisias, but Ferro found they were usually worth the wait. They said that the man who spoke the most said the least, and Lisias was proof that the opposite was also true. The man who spoke the least, said the most.

“Do you remember asking me if I’d ever seen a god?” Lisias asked.

Ferro nodded and shifted so that he could lean against Lisias. “You told me you’d seen Pan.”

“You never asked if he talked to me.”

Shock robbed Ferro of words. He pulled away from Lisias so he could see him better. “He talked to you?” For a simple tender, Lisias was far from simple. Ferro should be used to that by now.

Lisias nodded. “He told me that when I could find a mate who would commit to me and no other, then I could save myself because death stalked me.” Reaching out, he pulled Ferro back to his side. “I thought the wolf attack was my death and that I had lost my chance to find my true mate.”

Ferro’s mouth fell open. “You don’t think the gods would have….”

Lisias shrugged. “I think that if I lived forever, I would get very bored without something to play with.”

Ferro blew out a slow breath. “That’s not a pleasant thought.”

“We’re slaves, Ferro. Our lives will never be our own. But at least we know it. Your family thinks they have control, but their son is living out here with me because a god willed it.”

“They aren’t my family,” Ferro said firmly. “And I’d rather believe I willed it.” Ferro wasn’t entirely happy at the thought of the gods playing with them. It was one thing for Zeus to witness a vow from an ex-royal son, but quite another for so many gods to conspire against them. Lisias caught Ferro’s arms, pushing him back before he rolled over so that his weight pinned Ferro to the ground. His hands ran over Ferro’s shoulders and down his arms until he found the wrists and pulled them up so he could pin Ferro’s arms over his head. Ferro could feel his cock get hard, his breathing grow ragged.

“As long as I get to play with you, I don’t care what god or goddess or choice granted me the boon. I’ll offer a sacrifice to all of them.”

Ferro opened his mouth to make an irreverent comment about Lisias needing to make a sacrifice to him since he made the choice, but before he could, Lisias kissed him. It was a hard kiss that left his lips bruised, and Ferro thrust up into Lisias, his tongue battling even though he knew he would lose. Ferro gasped as Lisias caught Ferro’s lower lip between his teeth and nipped just hard enough to get Ferro’s attention.

“Over,” Lisias ordered in a rough voice as he let Ferro’s wrists go. Ferro scrambled and squirmed to get himself turned over onto his stomach and he spread his legs before Lisias could even ask. Lisias’ low chuckle warned him before the man pulled Ferro’s pants down around his thighs before pinning him to the ground again. Lisias was right. It didn’t matter how they got here. Ferro just mewled and hoped that Lisias was in a mood for hard and fast because the man could torture with his cock when he chose to go slow.

A finger breeched him, checking to see if he was slicked. Ferro pressed his forehead to the ground and groaned. “So beautiful,” Lisias said before his cock pressed against Ferro’s hole. For a moment, he held himself there, only threatening to enter. Ferro squirmed as a rising tide of need clawed at him, but he wasn’t strong enough to break Lisias’ hold. “Please, Lisias, please. For the love of Zeus, I’ll do anything, just mount me,” he begged.

“I like the sound of that,” Lisias said with a low chuckle as he pressed in so slowly that Ferro strained to press back. “Settle down because I want this to last a while, and I don’t want to bother to tie you down, not that I won’t if you don’t settle,” Lisias warned. Ferro played with that idea for a second. If he fought, Lisias would tie him down, which was a position Ferro quite enjoyed. Lisias gave a low moan as he finally settled into Ferro’s body, his whole cock buried to the root. He sounded so happy that Ferro sagged and surrendered himself to being used and frustrated. If it made Lisias happy, then it was good enough for him. Lisias started slowly pulling back, and Ferro moaned. It was going to be another long, wonderful day.