Bram Armstrong wandered the dirty side streets of King’s Port for over two hours before finally giving up and going into a tavern for a drink. As a pastor of a small congregation, Bram thought twice before entering the tavern doors but here in King’s Port, over two hours from his home in Littleton, no one needed to know that there was a “Rev.” before his name. It was hot, unseasonably so for late September. He wished he had not worn his best brown greatcoat because it was much too hot for this weather. Too late now, he thought as he drank his apple cider and looked around the darkened room. Not many customers at noon on a Monday.
Even in the emptiness of the saloon Bram had no fear of being recognized. He was used to not being noticed, at five feet nine inches and on the skinny side he had no distinguishing physical characteristics at all, nothing but a heart of gold, at least that’s what his wife liked to tell him. According to Thea she fell in love with him the first day they met eight years ago when he came to Littleton as a twenty-one year old awkward pastor, fresh out of seminary. To his shame, he never even saw Thea that first day at Littleton Church. It wasn’t until a month later at a church social when she offered him a piece of blueberry pie that his brown eyes met her blue ones. “I made it myself especially for you,” she told him as she handed him a plate. Now that day Bram remembered clearly. The first time he had looked into her eyes, as blue and as round as the blueberries on his plate, he was smitten. Not that he could do anything about it then. She was only sixteen and also the daughter of the wealthiest man in the area. It would have been unthinkable for the village pastor to even dream of marrying a girl like Thea. But try as he might he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She was kind and she was beautiful. He longed to touch her shining blond hair, to feel it between his fingers as it fell in soft waves out of her gathered cap and down her back. Although he wasn’t a tall man she came right up to the bottom of his chin, and he could imagine that she’d fit perfectly in his arms. Now, after all those years of longing, it was still hard to comprehend that she was his wife.
Finishing his drink and feeling refreshed, Bram paid his bill and asked the man behind the counter where he could find Harper’s Iron Works. The tavern owner, ignoring Bram’s query for a moment, slipped the coin that Bram had given him in to his mouth and bit down. Satisfied that the fip was authentic, the dark gray tired eyes of the tavern owner, half hidden by greasy locks of steely gray hair, bored into Bram. He had the look of a man who knew of everyone and everything in town. However, either his looks were deceiving or Harper’s Iron Works didn’t exist because Bram left the tavern as lost as when he had entered it thirty minutes before. I wish Abel would have come, Bram thought as he passed yet another tannery, a coach builder and a pork sausage maker all in a row. They looked suspiciously familiar, like somewhere he had already wandered that day.
Abel knew this port town better than anyone else of Bram’s acquaintance, not that Bram knew many people who spent much time in King’s Port, but Abel would have been a help. Bram cajoled, pleaded and finally begged but, in the end, he had been unable to convince his younger brother to come along.
According to Abel, he had too much work to do and was behind on his projects and after all, he really didn’t know King’s Port that well anyway. Liar, Bram thought, although not maliciously. In truth, he felt great compassion for his little brother. Abel had been living in this grimy town for the past two years; he moved there soon after his wife Olive had died giving birth to their only child. Abel knew King’s Port well and Bram also knew for a fact that work projects were few for a carpenter like Abel, a man who valued quality over quantity. He didn’t produce his pieces as swiftly as many other carpenters and this excluded him from getting contracts with many of the larger businesses, especially the ship owners who wanted their wooden items built as quickly and as cheaply as possible.
No, Bram was pretty sure that Abel refused to help him find the blacksmith because Abel was angry with God. Bram was going to buy a bell for their church building. The church members had set up a special offering just for that purpose and had managed to save enough money over the last two years to finally purchase the large bell. To Abel, helping Bram would be like helping God, and that was something that he was just unwilling to do.
Turning left at Kroen’s Pork Sausage, Bram found himself on a street leading to the port. Seeing a crowd in the distance, Bram headed in that direction, hoping to find someone among the mass of people who might be able to direct him to his destination.
Drawing nearer to the port, Bram’s nose and mouth began to fill with the stench of dead fish. The intense late summer heat combined with the overwhelming smell nearly convinced Bram to turn back and head in another direction. Just then Bram’s eye caught sight of something unusual near one of the large ships in port. Curious, he drew nearer and the roar of the crowd drowned out the sounds of gulls and water. Finally, his eyes fixed upon the object of the crowd’s interest. A girl, the most exotic creature he had ever seen, was being held between two burly seamen on a platform near to a large ship. It was then that Bram realized he had walked into the midst of an auction. Surrounding him were at least two hundred men, some bidding, some simply gawking, while others shouted obscenities and filthy things at the girl. She stood between the two men with her head raised high, not looking at anyone directly but rather, looking past them all to a place where only she could see. Her long black hair was mussed and in need of a wash, but even the filth that covered her could not disguise the beauty of her thick hair. It fell to her waist in tangled waves and shone in the sun.
She seemed small between the men at her sides, but Bram realized she was actually taller than he first thought, probably taller than his Thea. She wore a long pleated skirt to her ankles that was so covered in dirt and grime that the original color was unrecognizable. Above that she wore a fitted blouse that exposed two inches of her belly. The blouse hung on her slight frame now, flapping loose around her middle in the river’s breeze. She was emaciated, probably from the boat journey, for it was obvious that she had just arrived in King’s Port, presumably on the boat behind her.
All at once it became startlingly clear to Bram that he was watching a slave auction. This young girl was being sold to the highest bidder right before his eyes. Bram turned to look at the men around him; he observed their greasy hair and sleazy clothing; his eyes were drawn to their shirts hanging open to their waists. Their appearances screamed “brothel owner” to Bram. His stomach churned at the thought of it. All at once the heat of the day and the stench of the port seemed to roll over him, causing him to sway into the man behind him. He was shoved forward with a muffled curse and he stumbled onto the heels of a man a head taller than himself who was at that exact moment shouting his bid. Intent on winning, the man merely grunted when Bram stumbled into him.
Regaining his balance Bram looked more closely at the man bidding for the girl. He stood a head taller than most of the men surrounding him. Bram was surprised that anyone even had the guts to bid against the monster. Moving forward a bit Bram got a look at the beast’s face. Two days stubble sprouted from his chin and cheeks. The remains of a hair lip were clearly evident on closer inspection; the upper lip had been repaired but not well, the right half hanging a good quarter inch lower than the left side. The man’s eyes were large and seemed to bulge out of his head. A deep scar was gouged into the right side of his forehead and it traveled all the way up into the hair line and onto his bald scalp. The thought of the poor girl in the hands of this man, or one of the other brothel owners, was repulsive to Bram, injurious to his sensitive spirit. Although a man of God, the very words of prayer escaped him as he stood there and he managed to mutter only a soundless “Jesus.”
With his Lord’s name on his lips, his ears opened once again to the bidding war around him. The man in front of him had just bid two hundred and twenty dollars. His voice, though hoarse and gravelly, carried to the platform where the auctioneer, an ancient little man, paused only a moment to take in the outrageously high bid and then started his rolling litany once again. With words and actions he encouraged the gatherers to bid higher and higher, all the while displaying his goods by yanking on the girl’s hair, lifting her skirt to expose her skinny brown legs, and at last turning her around and around and patting her on her backside. A low murmur continued to rise from the crowd of men, but there were no more shouted bids and the auctioneer started the final verse of his auction chant.
“That’s two hundred and twenty dollars boys, going once, now take a good a look at this fine product we got here today, won’t find a fine one like this but once in your lifetime. Two hundred and twenty dollars going twice, last chance to get your hands on…” “Two hundred and twenty-five dollars.”
Like a wave rolling in from the sea, every head at the dock that day turned itself toward the voice of the newest bidder. Hidden by the massive man in front of him, many did not even see Bram at first glance. The auctioneer himself was stunned into silence, possibly for the first time in his career.
“Two hundred and twenty-five dollars.” Bram said again in a voice that was deep and clear and carried easily over the sounds of port and water. Years of practice in the pulpit had prepared it for such a moment as this.
