Dear Diary,

My name is Aeliana. I live in the great city of Rome in the heart of the Roman Empire. I am now fifteen years of age. I am a slave. But it hasn't always been that way. I can still recall the times before slavery. When I was when a baby, I had been abandoned. I wouldn't have survived if the 'fugitivus' hadn't found me. They were a group of runaway slaves who all lived in a small 'safe house' in England. I lived with them until I was eight. They taught me how to read and write, but I never really have been able to apply the skills. This is my first diary. Anyway, it was in the winter, about seven years ago. Our hideout had been discovered and we were on the run from the slave traders. I was exhausted, I had to stop. It was only for a moment. Then it is a blank. It was not until later when awoke that I realised I had been caught. The room that I was in smelt salty and damp. It was awful. The entire room shook. When looked out of the window, I saw the sea. It was a clear blue and stretched as far as I could see. On the tip of the horizon, I could see a small black shape, cutting though the clear sky. We were sailing to Italy, I later found out, to the heart of the Great Roman Empire. The voyage was the most terrifying experience of my life. And I loved every moment of it. The stiff sea breeze whipping my hair. The lull of the sea, gently rocking the boat. For a while, I felt freedom. But it was short lived.

People call the Roman Empire 'Great'. They say we blessed by the gods to live in such an age. To me, the 'great' Roman Empire is the reason that I am an orphan. It is the reason that I am inferior to others. The great philosophers talk of humanism and equality. Yet we are slaves. The man who caught me sold me to a rich man and his family. I worked for Lucius and his family as a clothes washer. They had very strict rules about who was allowed to leave the house and who was not. I didn't see the light of day for three years.

Finally, he decided to sell me off when he saw that he could make some money from me. I was glad. The housekeeper was cruel and enjoyed beating slaves who didn't work fast enough. I still remember that awful day when I was first taken to the slave market. I was chained to a post and a bunch of men were quarrelling over me. I remember one man who was richly dressed and adorned with hundreds of jewels and metals. I remember being bought and led away from the slave platform. I was nervous and my hands were bound. I shook as I trailed behind him and I felt like collapsing since I had not eaten for a week. I do remember that I was very hungry at the time and my mind was full of wonders, thoughts, and worries. I remembered thinking whether he would be cruel or kind.

Unfortunately, being the unlucky child that I was, the family who I worked for made the previous housekeeper look kind. I was a maid for the mistress. She had a bad temper and used to go into awful rages. If the slave girl arranging the mistresses' hair left a single curl out of place or the woman doing the beds left a pillow unfluffed they were promptly given twenty lashes and no supper for a week. They lock us in our quarters at dusk for a few hours, and unlock the door at sunset every night. This practice was brought in when four slaves ran away together. They're still looking for the runaways, but I don't think they'll find them.

That is my story up until now. I must finish, as the guards may see the candle.

Goodbye for now.