It went on in this way in routine. I would let out the animals in the morning to graze before receiving my beatings from Dante. I would then return to the stables to groom the animals and clean out their manure, then return to Kiatra’s chambers to bathe and share the evening meal with her. I forced myself to think only of each task one at a time and not my situation as a whole. Not what tomorrow could bring. Not what I had left behind. Not the overwhelming feeling of abandonment that was threatening to choke me.
By the fourteenth day, my steps were slow and labored. I was fairly certain my ribs were bruised as the simple task of breathing became a challenge. It took me longer to return to Kiatra’s chambers. The woman was already there when I returned.
I attempted to offer her a greeting and hide my misery but a feeling of nausea within me reached its peak. I rushed over to a large pot that decorated her room and retched into it. I fell to my knees and leaned my forehead against the cold clay. A gentle hand went to my shoulder and I lifted my head to meet Kiatra’s eyes. Humiliation swept over me. I shook my head trying to make it appear as if I was alright. The motion sent me retching into the pot again. I leaned my back against the clay pot as Kiatra drew a hand down my face. I flinched at a new bruise Dante afflicted upon me that afternoon that was festering. In quick motions, Kiatra opened up my vest exposing my chest and stomach. I had no will to resist her. I closed my eyes as she ran open palms down the bruises over my body. She pressed her hand against my ribs causing a cry to leave my mouth. I met her gaze for a moment as her face fell. Was she angry at me? Had I proven to be a disappointment?
She got up quickly and said something to Mara who had just entered the room. Mara answered in what seemed to be a question, studying me. Kiatra said something sharply and left. Mara stared after her before helping me to my feet.
“Go bathe. I’ll tend to your wounds.”
It was the first time Kiatra didn’t share supper with me. She didn’t return until late into the night when I already laid on my mat and feigned sleep. I silently observed her. It was clear she was agitated. She pulled off her dress and changed into a sleeping gown in two quick movements. She pulled roughly at her hair until it hung loosely. She blew out the single candle I had left lit for her and covered herself with her blanket.
I listened until her breathing steadied and I knew she had fallen asleep. I got up as quickly and quietly as I could manage and went through the curtain closing off the bathing chamber. The room was dark except for the moonlight that shone from two high windows on the right side of the chamber. My body reacted without reason. I had to try to make an escape or I would go mad. I went to a clay bench where some of the women who were close to Kiatra would sit and talk together, earning the privilege of using Kiatra’s private bath. I dragged the cold clay, slowly below one of the windows. The window was small and narrow, but I knew if I could manage to hoist myself up it was wide enough for my body to go through. I could not think too much about it. I just had to do it. I put one foot on the bench, when a sound caught my ear. Pelts of water were hitting the earth. The sound became louder and louder as it formed a steady rhythm. It was raining.
“The drought has ended.” A low voice came from behind me.
I turned quickly and saw Kiatra observing me from the entrance of the bathing chamber. My heart raced as I stood motionless for a moment before taking a careful step back down to silently face her. She stepped forward.
“After three years of drought, the Lord has shown his mercy on us and blessed the province with rain.” She continued, turning her eyes away from me and looking toward the window before meeting my eyes again. “Are you going somewhere?” She spoke evenly. Her voice was slightly accented, but her words were clear and spoken in a voice that was melodic and haunting at the same moment. “It is not such a poor plan. If you did manage to hoist yourself up through that window, there is no guard on this side of the wall. You would have likely gotten to the ground unnoticed.” She stepped closer to me. “But you would have to contend with the dogs. Where there are no men standing guard, we place dogs. They don’t recognize your scent yet. They will attack you on sight, but if you wish to try, I will help you up.” She kept her eyes on me as she closed the distance between us. She sat on the bench and crossed one leg over the other and stared up at me. “Where did you intend to go? Home? To the people who left you here, not knowing what your fate would be?” She shook her head. “There is nowhere that you can go now. Nowhere where I won’t come and bring you back to me.”
I knew I needed to bow. I needed to plead for mercy. I needed to humble myself before her and show penitence for my attempted escape. I knew these things, yet I could not control the words that flowed out of my mouth.
“I can’t do this.” I said in a whisper. “I can’t be what you wish for me to be.” My voice was starting to coat with panic. “Please send me home, mistress. Let me return to my people. We know your strength now. No one will come here uninvited from my village again. I swear it! “
She stared at me saying nothing for a long moment. “It is too late. You are already mine and I intend to keep you.”
“Mistress, please.” I cringed at the sound of my own words. How pathetic I must seem to her? Weak. Cowardly. Vulnerable. Yet, I was desperate. “I won’t survive here. Look at me. I am not strong enough. Send me home. When I succeed my father, I will unify my village under you. Our cause will be your cause--”
“When you succeed your father, you will unify them.” Kiatra repeated dryly. “Does your father currently ignite your people against us?”
“That’s no—” I stammered, cursing myself for my words. “No, he doesn’t—”
“There’s no need to answer that. It is clear he did otherwise your people would not be so bold as to come uninvited in the middle of the night.”
“Mistress—”
“The governors of every village come and report to my father and me once a year. Did you know that? We send messengers to every village every month to collect the taxes, you must have seen them, but we invite your father and those who lead the other surrounding villages to come and take audience with us every year.”
I stared at her in confusion not knowing why she was sharing this with me now. I did know my father went every year. He never shared in any great detail what was discussed but he always came back agitated and with complaints against the Chief.
“Every governor would bring with them who they chose as their successor as soon as it was known so we could know them, and they could know us. Yet, your father, never brought you here. He never mentioned he had an elder son. Of course, we knew it. Our guards and messengers reported that Aaron indeed had two sons, yet your father never mentioned you.”
Her words gave me no true reason to be upset. It was not as if it was unknown that my father did not wish for me to take his place. I had not grown into the man that he wished I would be. I knew a part of him also feared of my visions being exposed to our leaders. I knew these things yet being faced with this humiliation was too much to bear. My father had not just rejected me. He had denied my very existence.
My father had tried to dissuade me to come on this journey. Our last conversation before we left the village was clear in my mind.
This is a mistake! We will all be captured. Father you must reconsider—
Enough, Isaac! What do you wish for us to do? Sit here and starve? We have already rationed our food. If this drought continues, we will not make it until year’s end.
Then we will plead with the Chief of the Fortress! We cannot go to him bearing arms! We should ask for his mercy—
Mercy! Father had spat the word out as if it was a curse. And what do we have to ask mercy for? The Fortress has hundreds of storehouses of grain. Their water source is not running dry. The chief sits behind protected walls with a full belly, living in abundance while the surrounding villages in his keep suffer!
We cannot blame the Chief. We brought this upon ourselves, Father.
STOP
TALKING! You have a mouth of a traitor. I will not have it!
You will send all these men to their death. We will be captured. I have seen it. There is no reason to believe that the Chief of the Fortress won’t show us mercy if we admit our folly. Father, as leader of our village—”
My father’s blow against my face came hard and unexpected. I had staggered backward from the force of it but caught myself before I fell.
I do not need to be reminded by you of my position. Perhaps, you should remember yours. This journey does not include you. You will remain here.
I thought it was just because of our argument that he was frustrated that I had followed the group. But perhaps he did fear that we would be captured, and it would be known that he had an elder son? I thought back to when I stood before Kiatra and her father, offering myself to them. The subtle look of surprise on their faces when I had said I was my father’s son.
“Oh.” Was all I could muster up to say to Kiatra now.
“Oh?” She stood and faced me. “Yes. Oh indeed. Why would your father possibly wish to keep you from us?”
Because I was a man with defect. He was ashamed of me. He regretted I was born. He had no intention of allowing me to succeed him. I knew the answer but wouldn’t share these things with her. What benefit was it now? “I don’t know.”
“I see.” The room grew silent except for the pellets of rain hitting against the chamber. Without hesitation she slipped her hands into my tanned sleeping vest and pressed her palms over the bandages against my bruised ribs. This time I did not cry out in pain. I felt numb to it all. I was exhausted. The physical toll was nothing compared to the mental exhaustion I felt over the last weeks. Part of me just wanted to crumble against her touch and weep into her like a child. I wished for a release of the loneliness and bitterness that was growing stronger in me every day. Surely, I would just die here? What hope did I have to survive as a slave to such a powerful woman? “You will learn to survive here, Isaac.” Kiatra said softly, as if reading my mind. “More than survive. You will show your worth and you will prove to be invaluable to me. You will not try; you will do it. That is a command from your master. You will find that there are many advantages that come with being in my service. Advantages that I wish for you to reap. But you must prove yourself.” Advantages. Mara had told me the same thing but so far, I slept on a floor, was beaten every day and my only comrades were animals. I was uncertain what advantages she was speaking about. Kiatra put a hand to the side of my face and studied me. “You must trust me. Your training is only temporary. Growing physically strong is only part of how you can serve me. There will be more for you to do if you show me you can handle what I have already given you.”
I stared into her eyes for likely what was more than appropriate for a slave. I racked my brain to understand how I knew this woman. The familiarity was my only comfort here. It was as if she was the one person that I had taken with me from the life that I left behind. Yet she wasn’t. I did not know her. I could not trust her. I let in a shaky breath before averting my eyes to the floor, swallowing my grief.
“You understand my words.” I said stupidly.
Kiatra looked at me with genuine confusion. “Of course, I understand your words.”
“Then--then why did you pretend not to?”
“Pretend? My father and I do not speak directly to criminals. It is our way here. It has always been our way.” She looked at me almost in pity. “Did your father tell you nothing about this place?”
I exhaled slowly and ignored her question. “Why are you speaking to me now?”
She took a moment, considering my words. “I can do as I please. It is not your place to question me.”
“I—”
“It’s alright.” Her words gentled. “It is good that you tried to escape. It would be a disappointment if you had not tried once. But know that your efforts will be fruitless. None of your attempts will be successful. Of this I can say in certainty. You are mine Isaac and you will remain mine for as long as it pleases me.” She stared at me for a long moment, before turning away. “It is better for you to get some rest.” She said simply as she departed.
I waited for several moments, watching to where she disappeared to, thinking on her words as the memory of my name on her lips resonated. You are mine Isaac. The familiarity of it all was both confusing and overwhelming.
My knees gave way and I dropped to the floor. A strong sense of abandonment overcame me. My life was forfeit. It was no longer my own. I was the property of another. I would never see those I loved again. I would never wed. I would never father children. I was Kiatra’s slave and soon I would be nothing but a distant memory to my people. The people who left me here to die.
I listened to the rain continue to hurl down to the earth. Fourteen days after my capture, the drought ended. If my people had only been patient. If they had not acted foolishly, I would not have had to make this sacrifice. I would not have had to give up my life. I listened to the echo as the rainwater hit the roof above my head. Mocking me. I put my head against the cold stone and allowed the anxiety and bouts of panic I suppressed for weeks boil over as I wept.
Chapter 5
“My lady, Kiatra, before I depart, please accept this gift.” I stifled a sigh and nodded to the seventeen-year-old boy knelt before me in the main hall as he offered a wooden box, carved with an intricate design of a blooming rose.
“You are very kind, Simon.” I said, trying to sound sincere. The gifts were pointless. I kept none of them not wanting to show favoritism to one suitor over another. The boy lingered as if waiting for me to make a decision in his favor right at that moment. “You may go.” He hid his disappointment poorly, before bowing and departing.
My father sat silently by my side at the exchange as he always did when men came to ask for my hand. “So?”
“I am uncertain.” I said. Though I held no uncertainty at all. I had no interest in claiming a child as my husband. I had no interest in claiming anyone as my husband at the moment. I continued this routine because it was expected of me. It pleased my father and my people to believe that I was considering marriage.
My father made a gruff sound in response to my words. “You are too picky, Kiatra. Do not be fooled. Your appearance won’t last forever, and your womb will eventually dry up. Soon no more men will come and ask for your hand and then what will you do?”
“How kind of you.” I said flatly. My father was rarely gentle with his words. He made his points directly and encouraged me to do the same though it often led to disputes between us. “My appearance is only an added benefit, Father. I am not a fool. These men wish to share in my authority more than my bed. They will continue to come to me as long as I hold the title of Chieftess.” My father said nothing to this, but we both knew the truth of it. I put my palm on his arm and softened my words. “As for my womb, an heir does not have to come from my own body.” I knew my words would resonate with my father as he was not the direct line to be Chief. My father’s uncle was the Chief before him. He wed but bore no children and chose my father to succeed him.
“It is not so simple.” My father sighed. “I fought for my position against my own siblings and cousins. I proved myself to be worthy of this title in front of our people—”
“Ah. I see. And I proved nothing by inheriting this position as your daughter? Somehow taking a husband will prove my worth? Will the people feel more at ease with a man ruling by my side? Your logic is twisted.”
“Do not put words in my mouth, Kiatra. You are far from being the first woman to rule our province, so don't act so self-righteous.” He shifted slightly in his chair, sitting up straighter. “Though, I will admit it has been some time. It would help you to have someone by your side. Someone to support you. There will be times when your decisions will make you very unpopular with your people. The weight of leadership can be choking. It is a comfort to have someone to confide in.” He glanced quickly at his chief guard who stood like a statue
pretending not to have interest in this conversation. “Do you disagree, Sebastian?”
“I can see no benefit of me offering my opinion on this matter.” He broke his stare into the empty space and peered at my father. “Though, my lord, my lady is right to be cautious. Most men come to her with their own selfish ambitions. They would not treat her with the care that she deserves.” He locked his blue eyes with me for a moment before returning his gaze forward. Most men. He had said. Sebastian did not consider himself as most men though he was exactly the same, desiring to share in my authority. He served as my father’s guard for 12 years and was my father’s choice for my husband, and the man knew it. He had plenty of offers for marriage, yet he remained my most persistent suitor through the years, thinking that his loyalty to my family would be rewarded with a spot by my side, and a share in my leadership.
“Thank you for your insight, Sebastian.” I was only twenty-three, yet to the eyes of my father and my people, all of my good years were behind me already. Though I wasn’t keen to admit it to my father, there was something of companionship that drew me. Dozens of men had proposed marriage to me through the years, but I had yet to feel a strong pull of attraction toward any of them. Enough of a pull to grant them the position of my husband and my confidant.
“How is your slave fairing?” My father asked suddenly, surprising me with the strange change of topic. I didn’t know how to answer. Since his attempted escape, by all appearances Isaac acted in complete obedience to me. He did as he was told, going to the training grounds for long hours every day, taking care of our horses and cattle, while Mara started to teach him our language and our laws. He greeted me with respect. I kept conversations minimal not wishing to grow too attached to a slave. He would answer neutrally, with compliance. He was proving to do well enough. Yet, there was something about him that unnerved me. I could barely look into his eyes without being enveloped in a heavy sorrow. He was unhappy. He did his best to hide it, but it was clear the man was unsettled here. Why my slave’s unhappiness should bother me so much, was a question I didn’t wish to explore.
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