For a long time he looked into the trail of a retiring couple, continually groping a pocket in which money was jingling, and in no way could he believe that he had not dreamed it.

- This girl caught good luck by the tail! - thought the shopkeeper, - If she does not get bored with this guy, then she will live a happy life.

Workshop Primus Horn and Livia found without difficulty. Even from a distance they noticed a large wooden shed under which all sorts of rubble lay: old broken wheels from carts, broken barrels without rims, rusted sheets of roofing iron. In the middle of the courtyard stood a low pole with a ring embedded in it at the neck level. From this ring stretched a short thick chain, to which a girl was dressed, dressed in rags. Her hands were turned behind her back and squeezed with a wide metal band. On her feet glittered brand new shackles. Apparently, its owner decided to change the shackles and now was paying the price to the blacksmith.

A man of tall, broad-shouldered and soiled with soot came out of the forge. He was wearing only rough cloth trousers, glowing in several places with burned holes, rough shoes and a leather apron. Arms and shoulders were bare, except for abundant hair, and gave a clear idea of ​​the outstanding strength of the blacksmith.

A man who barely reached to the shoulder followed him. He was dressed brightly, but without any taste: an orange caftan, under which was a purple silk shirt with a huge jabot, blue bubble pants just below the knees and shoes with shiny buckles and a huge heel.

“If you need anything, Mr. Rice,” said the blacksmith, “Feel free to contact me.” I'll do everything.

“Thank you, Primus,” the motley man bowed his head slightly.

He took the key out of his pocket, unlocked the chain from the ring and pulled it, letting the slave know that it was time to go. The girl lowered her head and dutifully swept behind her master, ringing with shackles. Gorn watched this picture, standing aside and putting his wide-brimmed hat on his very forehead. Livia chose to hide behind his back.

- How can I serve the masters? - A blacksmith boomed in a thick rolling bass.

“I’m looking for a master nicknamed Primus,” said Horn in a changed voice, “I was recommended as a wonderful master.”

“He’s in front of you,” the man spread his arms.

“Then look at this,” the young man pulled a slave from behind his back and pushed her forward. “We need to remove this piece of metal and pick a good and light collar.”

- It's easy! - laughed the blacksmith.

“Take your time,” Gorn stopped him, “You must do everything very carefully so as not to harm the girl and frighten her.”

- And it is possible, - Primus smiled, - Come into the room.

In the workshop reigned even more mess than in the yard. In the corners lay all sorts of chains, rods, clips. In the middle there was an iron-clad workbench with a huge vise, and bracelets hung in the corners on thick rings. Slave, hitting one of them, bounced to the side with eyes wide open from fright.

- This is for naughty girls, - exposing his white teeth, the blacksmith giggled, - But, if you behave yourself, I will not have to chain you to the table.

“I ...,” Livia faltered and blushed. “I will behave myself.”

- And all right, - said Primus, - Come here. I have to see what you have there. Take off your coat and jacket. Open the shirt collar, and best of all, take it off too. Do not shake! I will not touch you.

For several minutes the blacksmith examined the collar, turning it back and forth, for some reason putting his fingers between him and the neck. Then he picked up a small hammer and began to tap the place where the hoop was connected.

“Familiar work,” he grinned, stepping aside. “I remember one count invited me to his castle.” A strange man. All slaves put bags on their heads, and some tied up straps and poses their mouths.

“Everyone has their own oddities,” answered the Horn.

- Well, okay, - Primus pointed to the workbench, - Lie down, wench, on your stomach and lie down quietly.

For several minutes the blacksmith fumbled with the collar, tapping something on it, firing something. At the same time he loudly snuffled and grunted. Livia was lying on the workbench, afraid to take a breath. She even closed her eyes, and clutched at the edges of the table with her hands so hard that her fingers turned white.

But then there was a slight creak, and the metal hoop slid off the girl's neck. Slave suddenly felt an extraordinary ease, as if from her shoulders took off a huge weight. She slowly lifted her head and looked inquiringly at Horn, who stood calmly standing next to the workbench.

- Well? - Primus stretched his lips in a smile, - How does a slave feel?

- Oh Lord! - choking with excitement, mumbled girl, - I suddenly felt so easy!

- When did they ring you? - suddenly taking a serious look, asked Primus.

“Two years ago,” Livia lowered her eyes.

“Then it’s understandable,” the blacksmith sat down heavily on a stool, “But you don’t think that your master will leave you without a collar.”

“No, sir,” the slave threw a quick glance at Horn, but she decided not to say anything more.

- Calm down, girl, - Primus slowly got up and walked over to a huge closet that occupied almost the entire far wall of his workshop, - I will pick you a good collar. You almost will not feel it.

He pulled something brilliant from the depths of his warehouse and handed it to the young man. Horn examined the ring for a long time, weighed it on his finger, examined the edges. Then he nodded in agreement and returned the hoop to the blacksmith.

“My dear,” he said, “Bypassing the edge and make a beautiful inscription on the collar.” Only the name of the owner ...

Then he hesitated and, seizing the master by the hand, dragged him into a corner. There they conferred for a long time, while Primus raised his eyebrows in amazement, and his face became now purple and now deadly pale. What they were talking about, and how it was connected with her new collar, the slave could not understand, but it was clear that her new master was up to something strange and, most likely, invites Primus to be allies.

Resolutely shaking his head, the blacksmith laid the hoop aside.

- Remember the address? - He turned to Gorn, - Then here's your key. Now nobody lives there and will not appear until spring. The place is quiet, few neighbors.

“Thank you, Follet,” the young man shook the master’s hand.

- And I'll see you tomorrow night. You dont mind? Said the blacksmith.

“I'm always glad to see you,” the young man slapped Primus on the shoulder like an old friend. “But, I think, it’s not worth telling anyone that I'm here.”

- By itself! - the master spread his arms to the side.

LIVIA STORY

Again the bad weather broke out: a strong wind arose, and in the evening a real downpour broke out. But the house was warm and cozy. A fire crackled cheerfully in the fireplace, warming the small room with its warmth. Heavy curtains were tightly closed, drowning out the howling of the wind, and the thick stone walls created a pleasant feeling of protection from the elements.

The horn sat in a deep chair, smoking his steady pipe. Near his feet is Libya. As he did not beg her, the slave did not want to sit in any chair. Hesitating her shoulder, she laid her head on her host's knee and froze in that position, half watching her eyes with burning eyes.

“You said you became a slave just a couple of years ago,” Gorn ran his hand through the girl’s hair.

“Yes, master,” Livia lifted her chin and looked into her master's eyes.

- What happened before that?

- Mister please to know the life story of his slave? - Slyly smiling, she asked.

“Suitably,” Horn nodded. “Tell me.”

- Yes, my lord, - Livia sat comfortably and put her elbows on the knees of a young man, - We lived in a big city by the sea.My father was engaged in trade, my mother led the farm, and I, as the eldest, ... Read more →