The Slave
“What do you want from me?” he growled as I met him in the marketplace. “Let me on my way, and to you, yours. My master is not a patient man, and neither am I.”
“But don’t you want to be free?” I asked the old man quietly, afraid someone might hear us. He only stared at me. Gathering my courage I asked again. “I can pay for your freedom; it’s unfair that someone could own you like an ox or sheep.”
“Don’t insult me,” he puffed his chest. “I know my place.”
“Please don’t be offended; please forgive me because I’m only a young man. Tell me, I only ask out of ignorance, don’t you wish for something more?”
He softened his tone and replied, “When a slave commits a crime, he is punished with only half the severity of a freeman. When he is married, he isn’t expected to pay the dowry. When a slave makes a mistake, it’s because his master hasn’t disciplined him well enough. They can only beat you so much—you’d be unusable otherwise. The truth is, I prefer being a slave. Now leave me alone.”
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