To Serve and Submit

by Susan Wright

  “Be gone from here!” the blond man shouted at me.

  I backed away, unwilling to risk his wrath. But I didn’t go far. I waited, crouching next to several barrels where I could watch the yellow boat. More than a dozen men arrived, but none of them were Finn. As my cloak grew sodden, they readied the longship to depart. Until they cast off the mooring rope and the oars lifted, I kept expecting Finn to appear. The yellow longship slid slowly away, the oars rising and dipping together until the ship was swallowed by the mist.

  My hand went to the parchment in my pocket, knowing there were only two silvers left. I had done only as Finn told me to, but it had cost me everything.

  Eight

  I huddled in the midst of the barrels, unable to move for fear that something worse would happen to me. I had no more coins, no way to get to Tillfallvik. And if I didn’t reach Tillfallvik, I couldn’t find Lexander. It was too terrible to contemplate.

  I kept staring at the empty slip where the yellow longship had been, as if willing it to reappear, ready to take me to Tillfallvik.

  I was a fool. I should never have trusted Finn with my coins. He was no friend of mine like the olfs were. Lexander had told me I would need to take care of myself, but I had let my training in obedience interfere with my true duty. I swore to myself that I would never let it happen again, that I would be unwavering in my efforts to reach Tillfallvik, but my resolution did little to help me.

  I wished I could flee as fast as I could into the woods, back to Vidaris. Back to Lexander’s protecting arms. I knew I could do it, despite the dangers I would face on the journey.

  But everything inside of me protested at the thought of entering that miasma of evil that blanketed Vidaris. My eyes had been opened, and now I could not ignore it. I would be even more vulnerable having acknowledged its presence and power. I also had no doubt that it would tell Helanas that I was near. Then her fury would be unleashed on me. What if she called back the winged ship to take me away from Lexander forever? No, I could not return to Vidaris.

  Drenched and hungry, I was at a loss for what to do.

  “Ho, you there!” a deep voice rang out near me.

  I raised my head, seeing only the gray murky twilight, thick with rain.

  Something jabbed into my shoulder, a jolting pain that barely pierced my shock. “Move it along,” ordered a muffled-up man. “You can’t sleep here.”

  “But . . .” I stammered. “I’m waiting for a boat . . .”

  “Do your waiting elsewhere.” He batted me with his long ebony stick.

  Struggling to my feet, I pleaded, “I don’t have anywhere to go. What should I do?”

  His stick smacked the back of my legs. “Get off the docks! Move along now.”

  I did as he ordered, just as I did when Helanas hit me with her crop. I trudged wearily to the nearest archway with the man following to be sure I left.

  In the waning light, I made my way past the houses and shops. I stopped when I could, crouched down next to a wall or under some stairs, then moved on whenever someone yelled at me. Eventually it got dark, and I shivered unseen under the narrow eave of an outbuilding.

  I didn’t feel any otherworldly presence. All the stone walls blocked me from sensing anything beyond. I was more alone than I had ever been before. I dozed off and on, always more exhausted with no relief in sight. It was the longest night of my life.

  My two silvers didn’t last long in Brianda. My cloak and boots weren’t stolen off my body only because I fought to keep them, flailing my arms and scratching with my fingers whenever someone tried to wrest them from me. I often awoke to find people—men, women, and youths—digging into my pockets as I lay in an alleyway or on a stoop behind a shop. When I was back in the fens dreaming of what the world would hold, I had never imagined this would happen. I realized that Helanas was not the worst I had to fear.

  Then I stumbled across a lane on the upriver side of Brianda, lined with cottages and a few imposing stone buildings. Every wall was covered in vines growing thick with leaves and flowers. Feathery ferns lined the street, which was packed with gravel and was well drained.

  People lolled in windows and doors, calling out to passersby. I felt as if I had stumbled onto a training session in full swing, and with a rising excitement knew exactly what was going on behind these walls. The pleasure doxies were of all ages, from matrons and wiry elders to maidens barely out of childhood. They wore rich fabrics and scanty clothing, some Oriental in cut. Jewels highlighted their best features, hanging around their bare chests and exposed hips.

  I was elated at my find. I had been trained to perform any service the mind or body could possibly desire. Whatever these cheerful pleasure tarts could give, so could I. And more. Did they know the place to massage just before climax that made a man’s entire body spasm in delight? Did they know the hidden core of delight that could drive a woman mad? I did, and I could earn coins with that knowledge—enough coins to take me to Tillfallvik.

  This would be my salvation. I drifted along with the stream of visitors. Many were men, but there were also women, single and in couples. They appraised each other, and even I came into scrutiny though I was hardly an attractive sight. My hair was tangled and my face and clothes were fouled. But I could fix that.

  I retreated to a roof that I had found earlier with a cistern on top to catch the rain. It was capped now that the sun was out, but I shifted the lid aside to reach the water. It was not a very satisfactory washing without brushes or soap, but it was enough to make my cheeks shine and my hair wave tightly at my face. I raked my fingers through the rest, leaving it long and, with luck, looking alluringly tousled as if fresh from bed. I even washed my boots and tried to clean off my pants and stained cloak.

  When I returned to the pleasure quarter, I folded my cloak back over my shoulders, showing the lining of dark green, which still looked fairly decent. I undid the lacings over my chest, exposing a deep V-shape swath of creamy skin and the cleft between my breasts.

  Almost immediately I was accosted by a man. He wordlessly considered me from head to foot, as I lifted my face and moved closer to let him smell my eagerness. The others flowed around us. He was older, with a sagging belly and narrow, shrewd eyes. His white, straggling beard was stained yellow by tobacco juice.

  “You, for how much?” he asked abruptly.

  I hadn’t considered it. “The usual.”

  He let out a short bark. “What’s that? Two silvers?”

  “Yes,” I agreed, not knowing how much that was. Anything would be good.

  “Where’s your house?”

  “I . . . don’t have a house.” Seeing him lose interest, I quickly added, “Surely you live near here—”

  “And bring the pleasure masters down on me? Not for a rouge like you.”

  Then he was gone. It wasn’t long before I found out who the pleasure masters were. I was yelled at and shoved whenever I tried to negotiate with a patron. Burly men burst out of the larger houses to pummel me away with their fists. One grabbed me and tried to drag me back inside with him, but I fought him, bursting out in a frenzy of punches and kicks. I drove him off, baring my teeth like an animal, and soon enough he retreated, shaking his head in disgust. I didn’t care what they thought of me as long as I kept my freedom. If I was taken by one of these pleasure masters, I would have trouble getting away.

  After that, I hung around the edges of the pleasure quarter rather than risk going inside. But the shopkeepers and matrons also yelled at me, trying to shove me back in, calling me everything from “daughter of delight” to “filthy kunta.” It confused me because I had come to think highly of my services. Certainly the guests at Ejegod’s estate last midsummer had honored us. But these people twisted their faces in disgust, shoving me with brooms and brandishing pokers. It was worse than when I merely tried to sleep in their neglected crevices and corners.

  But I managed to attract a potential patron even as I scurried from spot to spot. He was not much older
than I, an attractive young man with close-cropped, silky chestnut hair on his chin and cheeks. His square and sturdy hands made me nearly swoon in delight.

  He responded to the honest interest in my eyes. Yet he glanced down the street where the other pleasurefolk were waiting, as if intending to see what dainties were being offered before choosing amongst us.

  I moved closer, loath to lose this one. “I can do anything you desire, freyr. Just tell me what you long for, and I will give it to you.” My hands slid up his strong arms, savoring the hardness of his lean chest beneath his shirt. My hip brushed his thigh, promising much more to come. I was ready to fall to my knees and press my face against his groin to entice him into taking me.

  “Yes, yes!” he agreed eagerly. “Show me to your place.”

  I jerked my head to the alley behind me. It was dank and smelled from the offal flung out the windows. “We can go there . . .”

  His eyes widened at the unappealing sight. Then he looked back down at me, seeing the desperation in my face. “Please, kind freyr—”

  “Oh, you poor girl,” he murmured, disengaging himself from me. I fell to my knees, reaching out after him as he strode into the pleasure quarter. Tears of frustration spilled from my eyes, but I didn’t have time to mourn. I was chased from the street by yet another shouting shopkeeper.

  When I finally found a patron who would put up with a quick suck in an alley, I should have known it would be horrid. From his brown weathered face and hands, and his salt-smelling clothes, he was clearly an oarsman from the dock. He was nearly as dirty as I, so perhaps he didn’t care what I looked like or that we did it in a nook in the wall. With a few mumbled words, he set the price at one silver.

  An olf appeared behind him as I breathlessly agreed. The olf bobbed back and forth, agitated. Its eyes were wide, showing too much white around its silver pupils. It wouldn’t come closer, probably because the man was infected with noxious spirits. But I was starving and the sight of the coin sent all reason flying from my head. I went into the alley with the oarsman and let him do what he wanted with me. His hands were rough and when I tried to pull away from his stout tarse to breathe, he smacked my face hard several times, bringing tears to my eyes. He shoved himself into my mouth and down my throat over and over again, leaving me limp and my face wet. I had to reach to that deepest place inside of myself that could not be overwhelmed no matter what I endured. He seemed to take much longer than he needed, but finally he spent himself inside me.

  With the silver I was able to get food to fill my flat belly. Then I curled up again in the street for another long, miserable night. My cheek throbbed as a reminder of the pain my patrons would bring to me.

  And so it went, as I tried to live by selling my body to any who would take it. I eventually moved down near the docks where there were a few other street doxies, since only oarsmen were willing to take us. We were all hard-beaten by the wind and rain, and were filthy to varying degrees. Some men used me, then stole back what they had given me, despite my screams of anguish and frenzied pursuit. Others were kind enough to give me an extra silver when they saw how wretched I was. Sometimes the olfs warned me against a man, and after the bruises left on my face by my first horrible patron, I listened and fled. I was barely surviving, coughing from the chill air and constantly hungry.

  Once an oarsman was kind enough to let me sleep in the room he rented for the night, hardly bigger than the narrow bed and resounding with the noise of snores and arguments in the berths around us. But it was divine to sleep warm beneath a blanket, and my boots dried for the first time since I had left Vidaris. After that, I began to bargain for a place to sleep along with a silver, realizing I was selling myself cheaper than anyone else in Brianda. Surely I was worth more than that!

  After too many dismal days of this, I finally met Gudren of Sigurdssons. I was down on the docks, having become adept at finding places to hide, usually with help from the playful olfs. So I saw the beautiful longship sail in. The long sweeping planks of the hull were polished to a high gloss, and the carving of a mermaid on the prow and stern was of the most superior kind. There was a sudden interest on the docks at its arrival.

  It moored with a flourish of the oars in unison. The blue sail was folded down on a vast crossbar. The boat was lean with a shallow draft.

  Gudren was not the first to leap off, but he was the one who caught my eye. He stood back and watched, his bare hands on his hips, as the captain shouted orders to the oarsmen to secure the longship. Gudren’s cloak was lined with sky-blue silk, and his thick boots were made of shiny black beaver. His flaxen hair curled at his shoulders, held back from his face by a wide leather band around his forehead.

  What caught my eye was that he was clean-shaven, like my master. His generous mouth and square jaw were exposed for all to see. I had been scraped raw by the hair on men’s faces, and I disliked how it hid their most pleasing features. I was captivated by Gudren. So were several olfs, who tumbled out of warehouses and from under the docks, gathering to cavort around the tall man. He didn’t notice them, but they wanted to be near him.

  When Gudren left his men unloading the goods packed into the longship, I hurried over, intercepting him at the archway to town. I was staring frankly, the admiration clear in my eyes. As he strolled by me, his lip quirked in a smile.

  Encouraged, I clasped my hands to my breast and called out, “I will do anything to please you, Master. Take me into your bed and I will not leave you unsatisfied.”

  The honorific slipped out without thought because his bearing reminded me so much of Lexander.

  Gudren lifted his brows in wonder, breaking his stride. Like so many of the other men, he looked me up and down as if unsure whether I was a doxy. The ones on the pleasure lane were beautiful in sheer silks and skirts that were split to show their legs. By rights I looked as if I should be mucking out a byre.

  “Truly,” I murmured, not daring to touch him as I had with the others. “I can give you anything you desire.”

  “A tempting offer, my dear,” Gudren acknowledged, but his eyes slid toward the road. “But it will have to be another time.”

  He went on, leaving me standing there. His cloak flipped up, showing the blue underside, like a bright summer’s sky. I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t let him disappear into the crowd. I followed him. An olf came along, as drawn to Gudren as I was.

  Gudren strode through the shops, greeted with waves and shouted offers to sell him everything from fresh fried eels to waxed sail thread. I trailed along after him, remembering with a sharp pang how the shopkeepers in Tillfallvik had similarly hailed Lexander as befitting his high status.

  As I watched him, I knew this man would be a patron worthy of my talents. I could not let him elude me. This was no time to let my submissive tendencies run free. I would have to win Gudren’s attention.

  Gudren disappeared into a building with a round stone tower at one corner and a snug, timbered roof over the rest. It was several stories high, with bow windows on every floor. It could have easily been the home of a magnate, even a prince. I thought it was Gudren’s estate, but then I noticed the small signboard near the double doors. The olf followed him inside as people entered and left. I squatted at the base of the steps and no one paid any attention to me. I waited a long time while Gudren was inside, but I felt no urge to give up. I was as focused as a hawk on its prey.

  When Gudren emerged, I smiled up at him, letting my eyes light up with joy. He seemed preoccupied, but when he noticed me his lip quirked again in spite of himself. He ran down the steps and up the road.

  I followed him as he turned into a market street. He glanced over the goods displayed on open carts, disdaining to examine anything until he saw a pile of pelts. The white ice-bear hide interested him the most. The merchant knew it and dickered hard on the price. Gudren seemed irritated at one point, shaking his head and putting down the pelt to leave, but the merchant called him back and quickly settled. The large hid
e was folded and rolled to protect the fur, and the merchant tied it with two thongs. It made a bulky bundle that Gudren slung over his shoulder.

  I ran forward. “May I carry that for you, freyr?” I offered, using the correct honorific this time. “No need for you to labor.”

  He had to shift the bundle to see me. “Is that you again?”

  “I am here to serve you,” I said honestly.

  “I’m sure I would see the last of you if I gave you this fur,” he retorted.

  I didn’t understand his meaning at first. Then I vehemently denied it. “Never would I steal from you! I have suffered much from thievery.”

  He looked at me closely for the first time. “Where’s your master, girl?”

  My mouth opened, ready to confess everything. But I remembered Lexander had ordered, “Don’t tell anyone you are a pleasure slave.” I couldn’t disobey.

  “Come, come,” Gudren urged. “Surely you’re a slave. I won’t be dealing with a runaway, if that’s what you think.”

  “I haven’t run away!” I denied. “Believe me when I tell you, I’ve done nothing wrong. I want only to help you as I know I can so well.”

  He assessed me again with his eyes, and as I learned later, Gudren was a savvy businessman who could judge a man’s character in one glance. I had not that skill, and relied on the otherworldly creatures to help guide me through the maze of people’s hearts. The olf that hovered at Gudren’s shoulder told me that this man was true.

  “I’ll not take it kindly if you try to run away,” Gudren warned me. “You see I have friends in Brianda, and I’ll have you hunted down and punished if you try.”

  “I would never do that,” I swore, looking him straight in the eyes. I couldn’t understand how such a perceptive man couldn’t see the olf at his shoulder, giggling at me.

  After that, I trailed behind Gudren carrying all the bundles he passed to me. Nobody noticed me when I was by his side and following his orders.