Amber and Clay by Laura Schlitz (phonics books txt) 📕

used to be a slave, and now he’s not.

Poor Rhaskos! He didn’t really grasp what Phaistus told him;

but he heard the name Hephaistos,

so Hephaistos is his new favorite god. Oh, I’m not jealous!

He’ll come back to me! Everyone does.

Sooner or later everyone needs to take a journey,

get hold of a little money,

enjoy a good night’s sleep,

come up with a watertight lie

(not to mention going to hell with any kind of style).

Once they do, I’m their god. Hephaistos is good at crafts,

but I’m crafty. All fish come to my nets.

What were we talking about? Ah, yes, manumission. Let me ask you,

Why would anyone free a slave? . . .

What’s that, you say?

Because it’s the right thing to do?

Bless your heart!

Maybe. Or —

Let’s say your slave is getting old and can’t work hard;

he’s just another mouth to feed,

and you’re tired of him: You set him free.

(Kranaos worries himself sick over this.

If Phaistus sets him free, he’ll starve.)

Here’s another reason: Sometimes fathers free their slave children,

if they have no other sons.

Neither of these scenarios will work for Rhaskos.

His father had free-born sons. He didn’t need a spare.

Moreover, Rhaskos is strong and young and bright;

there are years of work to be got out of him.

Now, Phaistus —

Phaistus was set free on condition

that he perform the burial rites for his master, Iason.

By now, I hope you’ve grasped

that funeral rites are important. It’s a ghoul-eat-ghoul world

in the House of Hades. If no one looks after you —

no coins for the ferryman,

no cakes for the three-headed dog,

no wine, no oil, no prayers —

things aren’t going to go well.

When you die, you need to make sure

there’s someone left behind

who’ll dot every i and cross every t.

Iason was childless. He knew he was dying.

He put Phaistus in charge of his funeral;

afterward, Phaistus was freed.

Worked out nicely. Freeing a slave is pleasing to the gods,

who — you may have noticed this — don’t have slaves.

We Olympians are accused of behaving badly;

our tempers are hasty;

we tend to hold a grudge;

we run pell-mell after other men’s wives —

once in a while, we chop a few bits off each other —

but we don’t keep slaves. That’s where we draw the line.

If you, my mortal friend, are dying,

and a teensy bit unsure

about what might happen to you next,

you might want to free your slave. Give the gods a thrill!

What have you got to lose?

You won’t need slaves in the House of Hades!

Where was I? Ah, yes; manumission.

Few slaves are set free with no strings attached.

Most slaves, like Phaistus, are freed on condition . . .

What kind of condition? I thought you’d never ask.

If you’re the slave owner,

you get to spell out the terms.

Suppose you tell your slave, “Here’s the deal.

I’ll set you free, but

you have to live next door

so you’re handy to come and wait on me.

You have to do

whatever I tell you,

as long as I live.

I claim the right to punish you any way I choose,

which means I can strike you, starve you,

brand you with an iron,

tie you to a tree and whip you senseless —

anything short of death.”

(It’s against the law to kill a slave.)

“If you want to be free, you have to pay me for your freedom,

or buy me a slave to replace you;

you can give me one of your children —

if I let you have children.

If at any time you fail to please me,

the deal is off. I get to keep your money,

and you’re back to being my slave.”

Who would take such a deal?

I’ll tell you who: the man whose life is worse.

A man would rather seize a slender hope

than have no hope at all.

If you’re freed, even on condition, you can’t be sold to a new master,

and you’re safe from the mines at Lavrion.

You might be able to have a family,

eat a little better,

own a little property,

make a little money,

but be careful! If you earn more than your old master,

that’s considered rude,

and you have to give the surplus cash to him.

Luckily — or unluckily,

depending on how you see it —

Phaistus

is not the kind of man to dangle freedom

in front of Rhaskos’s nose

and yank it back.

He knows too much. But he’s not going to free Rhaskos.

He can’t afford it. What if he could?

What if Rhaskos were to go free

without condition? What would that look like?

To begin with, it would cost money. Rhaskos

would have to get permission

to earn money

and keep it for himself.

He’d need to save . . .

. . . let me see . . .

Phaistus bought him for a hundred drachmas,

but he’s worth more now; he’s older

and learning a trade.

Still, Thracians are cheap . . . Let’s say he’s worth one twenty;

he’d need two hundred and forty drachmas

to buy his freedom. That’s about the price

of a cheap cavalry horse,

or six and a half months’ salary

for a skilled worker,

or one thousand four hundred and forty loaves of bread

and enough wine to wash them all down.

Once he’s saved the money,

that’s where Hephaistos comes in.

It doesn’t have to be Hephaistos;

any god could help out.

I could do it.

You see, Rhaskos isn’t a person —

Ooh, don’t pull that face with me!

You know he’s a person.

I know he’s a person!

As Sokrates pointed out, he has a soul.

He’s a person, all right. But according to Athenian law,

he’s someone’s property:

like a pruning knife, or a battle helmet.

You can’t draw up a contract

between a person and a helmet!

Manumission is a contract,

and a piece of property cannot set itself free.

It’s against the law.

But there’s a way around it. Here we go:

Rhaskos gives his savings

to the priest

at the Temple of Hephaistos;

the priest gives the money to the god.

Now Hephaistos is rich,

and can buy himself a slave.

You can have a contract between a person and a god:

The priest (a stand-in for the god) handles the cash.

Phaistus gets the money.

Hephaistos gets the slave.

Since the gods don’t have slaves —

Rhaskos is free.

If he’s free without condition,

he can go where he wants

and do as he pleases.

His new status will be announced at the theatre

or carved in wood or stone.

He’ll never be a citizen

or own land. He can’t buy a house,

and he’ll need a protector.

His