Spartacus (The White Stone Version), Sabinus/Castus and others
The next days are better, Sabinus finds. The swell and drop of the waves grow less startling and his legs gradually adjust to the constant movement. The mast is still daunting, but Saxa and Belesa seem happy to leave him at sea level as they take to the heavens.
It is from atop this perch that Belesa first sights land. “Malta,” she calls.
Soon the island is visible to them all. It rises like a mountain from the sea, but as they near, Sabinus realizes that the mountain is made of brick towering above the green trees at its base.
Ummashtarte pales as she shares the thought. “It appears a Roman city.”
Giulia pulls Marco to her. “It was built by slaves,” she says quietly. “I question if it is safe.”
Castus quickly consoles them. “Malta cares not if you are fugitives, only if you hold coin. There is no cause for concern.”
“He speaks true,” agrees Leandros. “My people trade here often. Some even have made their home here. I wonder if I might find them.”
“It would warm the heart were you to find reunion,” said Castus. “Sabinus and I will make trade while you seek your people.”
The market of Melite feels both familiar and foreign to Sabinus. The goods are what he would expect at any provincial market and the coins are the familiar ones used in the Republic. Using them sparks no comment from any vendor. But there is no slave market, and the vendors, despite speaking Latin, appear as native to the land. He does notice a few Dominas with slaves trailing behind them, but many are unaccompanied and carry their own wares. They pass Sabinus and his friends in a blur of silks, greens and purples, pinks and reds, without a second glance.