This slave's name is Little Barr, a name that has been passed down in his family for three generations. His father was named Barr, and his grandfather was Old Barr. Because the master was too lazy to give them new names, the name just got passed down from generation to generation.
Since Linley freed Little Barr, he has been following Linley. At first, he wasn't very devoted. However, the recent arrival of the Roman fleet changed everything. They occupied the temple and converted it into a church, while also revoking the freed slaves' status, making them slaves again. This change made Little Barr quickly become a firm believer.
"Come over here! Get to washing these clothes," Little Barr ordered, pointing to a large pile of clothes.
These clothes were not only dirty but also stinky, all belonging to the Roman soldiers. Since they couldn't wash them at sea, the clothes had built up thick layers of sweat, making them dirty, stiff, and nauseating.
The clothes were piled up like a mountain, almost knocking out anyone who walked in. There was a well next to the church, and the slaves continuously drew water from the well, pouring it into a large bucket. Other slaves would soak the dirty clothes in the bucket, then take them out and beat them with sticks once the water turned black.
They had to repeat this process multiple times to soften the clothes, then soak them in clean water until the water turned black again, and beat them again, repeating this cycle a dozen times until the clothes were thoroughly cleaned, then dried and given back to the soldiers to wear again. But even after all that, the clothes would get dirty and smelly again after just a few days at sea.
Besides clothes, there was also armor. At sea, soldiers usually didn't wear armor, only putting it on when they were about to fight. Normally, the armor was kept in chests. According to regulations, the armor needed daily maintenance, but due to the many tasks at sea, few could maintain it daily. Once ashore, the soldiers handed their armor to the slaves for processing.
First, they had to scrape off the rust, then polish it smooth, dry it, oil it, and finally pack it back into the chests—maintenance done.
These tasks seemed simple but really piled up over time. With an army of sixty thousand, there were forty to fifty thousand sets of armor and hundreds of thousands of pieces of clothing to deal with. Getting all this done was a massive project. This is why the cardinal insisted on re-enslaving the freed slaves. Without slaves, finding enough workers would be not just difficult but also very expensive.
"Why don't we wash by the river? There's more water there," someone complained.
"Who said that?" A Roman soldier walked over with a whip.
Everyone shut up immediately.
"You all know the river water's not clean!" the Roman soldier said. "Get back to work, and anyone who talks nonsense will get a whipping."
Everyone immediately sped up their work. In fact, everyone understood that although river water wasn't as clean as well water, it was entirely usable for washing clothes, at most soaking them in well water afterward. Insisting on using well water from start to finish showed a complete disregard for the slaves' hardship.
"Sir," Linley was evidently not afraid of the Roman soldier.
The Roman soldier didn't say much, directly swinging his whip, "Bastard!"
Linley bent down, bowing his head to endure a whip from the Roman soldier.
"Sir, doesn't the Bible say that all followers of Holiness are equal? Why are we still treated as slaves?" Linley asked in confusion.
The Roman soldier sneered, "Who told you that? That's complete nonsense! Equality? Why don't you go try being equal with the emperor or the pope? Let me tell you the truth, we came here from Rome to make money. As long as you work hard, we won't kill you outright, because we need to sell you later for profit. But if you whine and slack off, I'll chop your head off."
Hearing this, the slaves started to stir. They had thought the followers of Holiness would treat them better, but now they realized they would still be sold. Everyone knows that people lose value when they're far from home. Even as slaves, they hoped to stay locally; being sent elsewhere was uncertain and frightening.
Hundreds of Roman soldiers quickly surrounded them, and the slaves immediately backed off. There were more Roman soldiers here than the entire population of Andros island. With so many soldiers all over the island, any trouble would quickly be met with a large contingent of Roman soldiers.
The Roman soldiers rushed in, beating all the slaves before making them get back to work. Linley was assigned to take care of the armor. He carefully cleaned each piece of armor, scraped off the rust, dried it, and applied oil. Some of the armor was still quite new, while some were very old.
The new armor was mostly shoddily made, while the old armor, though well-crafted, was rusted, some almost rusted through. This wasn't just because of the harsh maritime environment but also showed how broke the Roman Empire was, unable to properly maintain even its most important armor.
So, this Roman fleet didn't dare dock at Crete. The situation at Andros was already chaotic, and if they went to Crete, they would need to plunder thoroughly to continue their journey.
This huge army was like a hungry wolf, devouring everything in its path. It's not that they didn't know looting would slow them down and weaken them; they were just too hungry to care.
"Hey," a nearby slave also working on armor greeted Linley, "Brother, are you thinking about escaping?"
"Hmm?" Linley looked over. It was a middle-aged slave in his thirties whom he had never seen before.
This middle-aged slave had a well-built body, smooth skin, and wore a finely crafted slave collar, showing he was an upper-class slave. These upper-class slaves worked in the homes of wealthy merchants and nobles, managing other slaves or performing technical tasks, and their living conditions might be better than those of ordinary people.
"I can't take it anymore. I have to escape. My master has a boat; once we're out, we can take it and leave," the middle-aged slave said.
"The port is full of Roman warships, and all other boats have been driven away," Linley said.
"What!" The middle-aged slave was struck as if by lightning, his whole demeanor deflating.
"It's okay, we can still find a way to escape," Linley comforted him.
"Do you have a plan?" the middle-aged slave asked.
"Not yet, but be prepared. The opportunity might come," Linley said.
"What opportunity? That's just a mirage," the middle-aged slave said, looking very disappointed.
Linley continued to work silently, maintaining dozens of pieces of armor as the sky gradually darkened. The middle-aged slave looked around and left quietly. There were still many Romans outside, so he probably couldn't escape, but Linley didn't say anything more.
After a while, there was a commotion outside, and then dozens of Roman soldiers escorted a dozen slaves to the central platform, including the middle-aged slave.