Chapter 6: The Slave Market

Though frightened of the strange, blue-eyed men and her uncertain future, even Abish had to admit that it was much easier to face up to difficult things with a full stomach. The pace was relentless, but as they moved toward the Land of Ishmael, it was apparent that the rains had returned to this part of the forest and the weather wasn’t as beastly hot as it had been in Middoni. Other than a short time in the morning and evening when they also gave her a few minutes of privacy, her hands were tied together. She fell occasionally, skinning her face and knees, unable to catch herself, but her captors didn’t hurt her directly. She wanted to tell them that binding her wasn’t necessary—that she had no idea where to run to—but the less she spoke to them, the less attention they paid to her. The man she was the most frightened of had hardly acknowledged her since that first day, but she was cautious to avoid him. She did as she was told, hadn’t her father told her that her job was to live for the truth? Maybe even this new turn of events was part of a greater plan.

They had taken her pack, which, besides the writing tablet, contained only an empty water-skin, a thin bedroll, a change of clothes and a comb. She noted the way one of the men looked over her things. The dress was simple, but the fabric was of good quality. Her father had given her the comb for her ninth birthday and was quite beautiful. She watched his face closely while he examined her things. He pondered the longest over the writing tablet.

As they neared the land of Ishmael there was less forest and members of their party made regular forays into the cultivated fields nearby to bring back fresh game to eat and other “properties” to sell. Three others were captured—two boys and a girl a few years older than Abish. It seemed to Abish that these others had not been wandering idly alone as she had. They were probably taken from near their homes. It made her heart ache to think of mothers waiting for children who would never return. At least her own mother did not expect to see her again. The slaves-to-be were forbidden to speak to one another, but from the few whispered words and meaningful glances, she vaguely understood that the two boys were friends.

The boys’ eyes darted around often, perhaps looking for a means of escape. But the older girl’s eyes stared straight ahead, blank with terror. She was especially fearful of the man Abish disliked the most, and flinched every time he came near her. This amused him greatly and he laughed each time she did it. Abish thought his laughter was the cruelest sound she had ever heard, and somehow it made her heart ache afresh with the memories of her father’s death. He had been laughing like this when he brought the older girl back to camp, slung over his shoulder like his latest hunting prize, grinning broadly. He had thrown her onto the ground where she refused to stand or look up. The next morning, he tied her to the wagon where she didn’t move until the wagon was pulled forward. Only then did she stand or she would have been dragged. Abish walked next to her for a full day before catching sight of her face. Even though it was tear-stained, dirty and bruised, Abish could see that the girl was beautiful. Abish tried to smile at her to show support for this terrible fate they were all going to have together, the girl instead hung her head and cried silently.


Within a day or two, they began to pass small towns instead of just farms or other nomads like themselves. From what she understood of her captors’ language, she knew the fork in the road they had just passed turned toward the great city of Jerusalem: their city. Neither Nephites nor Lamanites. She began to see why her father held such disgust for them. They stayed on the main road toward Ishmael, and after another couple of days of walking they arrived through the gates. Like all Lamanite cities, the surrounding area was referred to as the Land of Ishmael, with Ishmael itself being the capitol. Lamoni was the king of this land, and the son to the head king. Abish didn’t find it so different from Middoni. It was the same noisy, hot, smelly crush of people haggling for food and goods. Still, there were differences. She heard a huge variety of languages spoken. Compared to Ishmael, Middoni was an unimportant outlier. Ishmael was closer to the Land of the First Inheritance and more protected from Nephite invaders, being so far south.

She and her three companions were roughly escorted to a long, low house near the edge of the teeming square. There were others there, similarly tied by ankles and wrists. There were women in the house chattering and measuring the various slaves-to-be. Abish was given rough, drab clothes and a few minutes to wash and change. No curtain was held and her heart sank with humiliation when she saw that she was to change her clothes and wash herself in front of all the others—boys and girls alike. Her captors were, thankfully, outside, and the other captives had the decency to look away as everyone had to take a turn stripping, washing and redressing. Her once pretty red dress that Lanishe had made was placed in a heap with the others. She was given a rough brush to run through her wet hair and she vaguely wondered what happened to her beautiful comb and writing tablet. She turned her head to the side and noted her female companion washing next to her. Abish gasped when she saw the network of bruises on the girl’s thighs and arms. The girl caught Abish’s wide eyes just then and Abish felt a momentary glimpse into her terror. The older girl turned away quickly.

Glancing quickly around and seeing the women busy with others Abish whispered, “What happened to you?”

She turned slowly and glanced up, her lovely eyes filled with tears and she said quietly, “You are lucky to be too young.”

Abish did not understand, “Too young for what?”

She shook her head very slowly, “Perhaps your own innocence will last longer if I do not tell you. And to think, if I had not been taken in the woods, today would have been my wedding day.”

Abish let out a gasp that was just a little too audible and she was immediately reprimanded with a switch to her fingers by a woman who had moved near her. Abish turned to her new friend as she pulled on the rough, brown dress that was given to her. Her wedding dress would have been brightly colored, dyed from the most vivid plants in the forest. To keep quiet, she nearly mouthed the words as she said, “I am Abish.”

But her companion shook her head, unwilling to give her name. Instead she said in a voice almost too low to hear, “I am sorrow.”


After they were all cleaned and dressed they were taken one by one into another room. The blue-eyed captor was there along with one of the others. Abish stiffened, praying diligently to her new God that they would not harm her the way he had the other girl. She flinched away as they approached her with a knife. Her hair was roughly grabbed and cut very close to the scalp with a large knife. She held still, her eyes large as she stared at the knife. Next, her captor rubbed a sour-smelling ointment on the lobe of her left ear. As he did so, she felt an almost immediate numbing sensation. Her captor held her even more tightly as the blue eyed man brandished his own knife. He came very close to her and then through the numbness there was a searing pain. The blue-eyed man smiled as he backed away from her. “That notch in your earlobe will tell the world what you are now.” He tossed a rag to her she could use to stop the blood flow. She was not the first to use this rag in such a manner and it was blotted with various shades of brown and red; the metallic smell was sharp in her nose.

The remainder of that day the slaves were herded like sheep. There were many of them now, with more arriving at the house through the day. The traders were not all of Nephite origin; most were Lamanites of various tribes. She had seen slaves in the land of Middoni, but not many; although she had heard they were common in wealthy families and in the palace. She had seen some in the markets before, the distinctive short hair and notched ears gave them away. She also knew her father had not approved of the practice. He believed that many of them were not beggars or runaways, but victims of kidnapping. She now had unfortunate, first-hand knowledge of his assumption. Other slaves also came from Lamanite conquests in various lands. Her father had once made reference to the great slave markets in the lands south of where they lived. She never expected to be auctioned in that market.

As they were jostled toward the market early the next morning they were told how to behave. In small groups they would be stood on blocks. Bidders would come forward to ask questions; if any of these questions were directed at them then they were to answer shortly and truthfully. If they lied about skills to gain position in a household then they could be put to death after purchased.

A boy next to her whispered, “If they don’t buy you, then you are turned into the streets, which is a thing worse than death with the notch you now carry in your ear.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, but kept her eyes closely on the slave traders near her. She wanted to know how the boy, who was a head shorter than her, knew so much, but she didn’t dare speak.

Abish had been placed in the middle of the group, but it was a long time before she came close to the slave blocks. She shifted her weight continually as the day grew warmer and warmer. She began to sweat, fighting the urge to fidget and itch from the poorly rinsed, harsh soap she’d been given to wash with. The pretty young woman she’d met the day before was just ahead of her. This girl didn’t look up the entire time she was on the block and was the last one left when no new bidders came forth. The blue-eyed man roughly dragged her off the block and he spoke harsh words to her. Abish’s heart began beating quickly. She was next.

She held her back high and straight, forcing herself to act with dignity. She remembered her father’s strong shoulders and high chin as they marched him up the temple steps. But Abish was not facing death; she could also act with dignity in the face of difficulty. She stepped carefully onto the block so as not to lose her balance.

Several men stepped from the noisy crowd and began pacing their way around Abish and the other four slaves on the blocks. Nothing was said for several minutes. Then she noticed a tall man step through the crowd. He must have been important as the crush of people backed away for him. He wore his hair slicked back with a simple band, but around the waist of his white tunic he wore a band of raven feathers. In Middoni, few people had worn feathers as they were a sign of wealth and status. She had never seen such a tunic as the one he wore, not even the few times she glimpsed the king. She fought to keep from staring. The man was unarmed, but traveled with a large man whose head was shaved and he wore nothing but a loin cloth. He had a sword at his side and a bow slung across his back after the manner of Lamanite warriors. He positioned himself a step back from the man in black and white and kept his eyes fastened in the crowd.

She gritted her teeth and tilted her chin even higher. Before approaching any of the slaves, he spoke for a few moments with one of the traders, gesturing and asking questions. Abish was too far away to hear what was being said and pretended not to notice when he looked directly at her.

Not many minutes passed before he approached her, narrowing his eyes slightly, “What land are your from?” He asked her directly.

“Middoni.”

“Strange goings on in Middoni this last feast day.”

She colored slightly and looked at him closely. She must not lie, but she didn’t have to give away anything either. “Yes.”

“A priest sacrificed himself willingly to the rain god.”

“I believe he was only an apprentice to the priests, sir, nor am I sure how willing he was.”

“Perhaps I should make you one of my spies.” His lip curled slightly and she flushed, sensing he was angry for having disagreed with him, but he continued speaking to her anyway. “I also heard that the apprentice’s family fled, without a trace.” There wasn’t even a question in his tone so she said nothing, but didn’t avert her gaze “But what would an urchin know of these things?”

He raised his eyebrows quizzically expecting a response. She formed her answer very carefully. “An urchin would know nothing.”

His eyebrows rose further in surprise at her clever answer and she knew she’d said just the right thing. “And what can you do?”

“Sir?”

“Skills. What can you do?” He was direct now and dropped all tone of subterfuge. She responded likewise.

“Sewing, cooking, cleaning, and other domestic chores.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve gathered herbs and dyed fabrics, I’ve shopped many times in the market. I was learning to weave when . . .” She trailed off, knowing she’d nearly given away too much.

Again, with the eyebrows but there was no question this time. “How old are you?”

“Ten, sir.”

“Young. But you are big for your age. And you look healthy.” Again, there was no question so she stood very still. He seemed to be mulling her over. “Do you read?”

“Yes sir.”

“Write?”

“I’m learning.”

“You were learning that too when . . .” He trailed off as she had before. She nodded, but supplied nothing further.

He turned to the slave trader and barked some instructions at him. Her captor immediately squatted and scratched some figures in the dirt. The black and white man pointed to them and asked her to read them. She looked carefully at them, to make sure that she’d ciphered them correctly before saying, “Lemhah?”

“That is my name. I am King Lamoni’s chief steward. He is very careful about the slaves he chooses to work in his palace. He treats them well, but he expects exacting obedience. No laziness or plotting will be tolerated.”

“His Excellency has nothing to worry about; I have no where to run.”

Again, she could see that her answer pleased him and he again looked thoughtful. “What is your name, girl?”

“Abish.” She fought the tears in her eyes at having been spoken to almost as a person. He turned from her and began bargaining over a price. The amount Lemhah paid shocked her. She said a silent prayer of thanksgiving—she knew that most others this day had not been treated so well. She was unbound and loaded into a wagon at the back of the crowd. A second Lamanite soldier, nearly identical to the first, stood near the wagon. She sat on the bench. Lemhah gave her a piece of fruit and a water skin. He nodded his encouragement. She drank first, long and deep and then offered it back to him.

He shook his head. “It is a long afternoon. We will stay until the trading is done. You will need more water.”

By the end of the afternoon, two more slaves were placed in the wagon. As a bell rang to signal the end of the trading, a chariot was ordered for Lemhah and the soldiers guarded the slaves’ slow donkey ride back to the palace.

So began the first day of her new life.