Goodbye to the Jungle

by Wayne Mansfield

  “I wish you all the luck in the world. Just don’t get caught.”

  Jahl remembered what Mari had told him about what could happen to runaway slaves. He’d had it confirmed, firsthand, in the marketplace. He remembered thinking Brocknor wasn’t capable of doing anything as horrendous as beating him or cutting off his foot, or his toes, but since the trees had been chopped down on Brocknor’s orders, Jahl decided he didn’t know what the man was capable of doing.

  * * * *

  That night, after Mari had gone to her room and the moon was high in the sky, Jahl found himself on all fours, perched at the end of Brocknor’s mattress. His master had moved two tables with oil lamps to either side of the bed. Brocknor, himself, sat naked directly behind him.

  “Reach behind and show me that beautiful hole,” said Brocknor.

  Jahl felt ridiculous, but had no other choice than to obey. He pulled aside one of his buttocks, exposing that most private part of himself. He could hear Brocknor panting and the sounds of the man’s hand slipping up and down a well-oiled cock.

  “Use both hands,” said Brocknor.

  Jahl lowered his chest to the mattress, his head to one side, and did as Brocknor had asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Jahl could hear the hand moving faster and Brocknor’s breathing becoming more erratic.

  “Slip a finger in. Finger yourself.”

  Jahl lubricated a finger with his saliva before inserting the digit into his arsehole.

  “That’s it. Fuck yourself with it.”

  Strangely, Jahl didn’t feel any humiliation or embarrassment. He thought it odd that Brocknor didn’t want to fuck him, or have him suck his cock, but if this was all he needed, that was fine. He preferred it. He still hadn’t forgiven Brocknor for cutting down the trees.

  “Stick two fingers in.”

  Jahl obeyed and hoped it would be enough to make Brocknor cum. His neck was getting sore and his throat was dry.

  Finally, he heard a loud grunt, and another, followed by a long, satisfied sigh.

  “Come over here and clean me up”

  Jahl got off the bed, rolling his head from side to side to alleviate the crick in his neck. He knelt between Brocknor’s legs, his tongue ready to collect his master’s seed. He licked up the long white trails that ran down Brocknor’s belly, swallowing them, before taking the cock in his mouth and sucking off every trace of semen.

  When he’d finished, Brocknor stood. Taking Jahl’s hand, the man led him back to the bed, where they lay side by side for a moment. Brocknor kissed Jahl, a few little pecks at first, before leaning in so his chest rested on Jahl’s to kiss him more fervently. Brocknor wrapped his arms around him, and Jahl, only because he thought he ought to, embraced his master. They kissed for a long while, rolling this way and that, enfolded in each other’s arms.

  Brocknor touched Jahl’s cock, rigid and standing parallel to his flat abdomen.

  “Take care of this,” said Brocknor.

  Jahl started masturbating, his lips still busy on Brocknor’s. Brocknor found Jahl’s arsehole and slipped his finger in. The twin sensations of the mouth on his and the finger inside him soon had his cock swelling and ready to explode. He did so over his stomach, even managing to hit his chest.

  As he had done to Brocknor, the man now did to him. With long strokes of his tongue, his master took care of the ropes of seed that crisscrossed Jahl’s abdomen, and when he finished, they kissed a while longer.

  On his back again, Brocknor spoke. “How long have you been with me now?”

  “Fifteen days.”

  Brocknor nodded. “Uh-huh. Are you happy here?”

  “As happy as it’s possible to be.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “With respect, you know what it means. I’ve told you before.”

  “I want you to be happy, Jahl. You make me happy. In fact”—he took Jahl’s hand in his—”each day I spend with you, I grow fonder of you.”

  “What is ‘fonder’?”

  Brocknor squeezed his hand. “It’s a little bit like ‘love.’”

  Jahl froze. Why was he saying these things to him? Love? They’d known each other two weeks. He was Brocknor’s slave!

  “What do you think?” asked Brocknor.

  “What do I think about what?”

  “About what I just said.”

  Jahl could only be honest. “I don’t think anything.”

  Brocknor let go of his hand. Without looking, Jahl could feel a change in his master’s mood.

  “Why are you always so defiant?” growled Brocknor. “I make your life here as easy as possible, give you everything you could possibly want. What’s wrong with you?”

  Now it was Jahl’s turn to growl. Finally, it was his turn to be angry. He didn’t hold back. “I’m hunted like an animal and brought to this town against my will. I’m bought like a…like a piece of fruit from the market and kept here against my will. You make Mari and I walk around naked, making us feel like lesser people even though we do everything for you. I have a mother and a father who don’t know what’s happened to me. My mother is probably beside herself with grief. I have friends and family I miss, and who I want to be with. I had my own life. I was free. You and those men who captured me took all of that away from me. And now you ask what’s wrong with me? You really can’t understand what’s wrong with me? Then you have less intelligence than I thought you had.”

  Jahl seethed. He felt on the verge of attacking Brocknor, of taking all his pain and frustration out on the man lying naked beside him.

  Brocknor looked at him blankly, then got out of bed and padded naked from the room.

  “Don’t ask the question if you don’t want the answer,” shouted Jahl. “Everything I said is the truth.”

  He got off of mattress and stormed into his own room. He pulled the curtain across the doorway. So angry and so upset, he couldn’t cry even though he very much wanted to.

  * * * *

  He awoke the next morning a hollow man. He lay in bed wondering whether the void he felt was due to the previous night’s expunging, or whether it was the realisation of the inevitability of his situation. It was probably a little of both.

  He got out of bed and found Brocknor’s bed empty.

  “Where’s he gone?” he asked Mari a moment later.

  She was sweeping the entrance. “He went out early this morning.”

  “How did he seem?”

  Mari continued sweeping. “I don’t know. I just happened to see him leave through the gate as I came out to sweep the front steps.”

  Jahl wondered what Brocknor could be up to. It wasn’t unusual for him to go into town, or even to visit the property he knew Brocknor owned in the countryside. If they hadn’t argued the previous night, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But they had argued and now Jahl worried that something even more undesirable might result from his being so forthright.

  The only way to distract himself was to put his mind to something else.

  “What do you need help with?” he asked Mari.

  “You could scrub out the copper tub. And bring in some more wood.”

  Jahl walked to the end of the villa and immediately set to work on the tub. It wouldn’t take long to clean, but the chore of bringing in wood would keep him busy for at least half an hour. The wood, delivered weekly, was dumped in a large stack, out of sight behind the villa. Fireplaces in the kitchen, the washroom, and Brocknor’s bedroom required wood, though first, he’d have to clean each of them.

  By the time Brocknor arrived home, Mari and Jahl were having lunch in the kitchen. He walked in with his hands behind his back, obviously hiding something.

  “What’s this?” he said with a grin. “Lazing about eating my food while I’m out?”

  His joking seemed a little out of character, considering the argument they’d had. Jahl looked at Mari, and could tell by her expression that she, too, wondered what was going on.

  “I supp
ose Jahl told you we had a bit of a disagreement last night.”

  Mari, not wanting to betray her friend or disrespect her master, gave a reluctant half-nod.

  “I thought I treated you both well, at least I tried to, but Jahl pointed out a couple of things. First of all…”

  He brought his hands out from behind his back. Each hand held a tunic. One a deep red, and the other white with gold trim.

  “I think they should fit.”

  Jahl and Mari looked at each other once more.

  “Come on,” said Brocknor, shaking his arms impatiently. “Come and take one.”

  Jahl and Mari got up simultaneously from their stools.

  “Which one do you want?” Jahl asked Mari.

  “I don’t mind. They’re both beautiful.”

  “You choose the one you like best and I’ll have the other.”

  Mari thought for a moment. “I like the white one best, but I can see I’ll be washing it every other day.”

  Brocknor clicked his teeth. “I didn’t think of that. I bought it because it was pretty. I tried to—”

  Mari smiled at him. “It’s all right. It’s beautiful and I’m happy to have it.” She took the garment, closing her eyes as she brushed it against her cheek.

  Jahl took his, his eyes on Brocknor’s. He mouthed, “Thank you,” and Brocknor left the room.

  “This will feel strange after so many years of being naked.” Mari slipped the garment over her head and threaded her arms through the sleeve holes. “How do I look?” she asked, spreading her arms and spinning.

  “When you do that, I can still see your business,” said Jahl, laughing. Then more seriously, “You look beautiful.”

  “Go on. Put yours on.”

  Jahl glanced at the tunic. “Later. I have something I should do first.”

  He left Mari in the kitchen and went in search of Brocknor. He couldn’t find him anywhere, then realized he was in his study. Despite having been told never to disturb him while he was working, Jahl entered the room.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I wanted to thank you for this.” He held up the tunic. “It means a lot that you would do this.”

  Brocknor looked up from his seat. He didn’t seem annoyed he’d been disturbed. In fact Jahl got the impression Brocknor had been waiting for him. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”

  “Would you like me to wear it?”

  A crease appeared between Brocknor’s brows. “Isn’t it what you wanted?”

  Jahl approached and stood at arm’s length from his master. “What I want is my freedom.” During the preceding search for Brocknor, he had done some thinking. “But I know that even if I got my freedom, someone else would have to lose theirs to take my place. Someone is probably being hunted and captured right this minute. It’s wrong to take people against their will, but I’m just one man and I cannot change a system no matter how evil that system is. But you are a good man. The fact you bought these clothes for us, that you listened to me when I was angry, when I am just your slave, shows me that. It also shows me that you care about me and what I think.”

  Brocknor leaned forward, raising his face to Jahl. “I’ve told you many times how much I care about you.”

  Jahl rested a hand on Brocknor’s shoulder. “I know. I know. But it’s important to be shown rather than told. And you have done that.” He paused. “I have done something, too, some thinking. I have made a decision to try and accept my situation. I have no other choice. Also, it’s hard work being angry at you and the ways of your society all the time.”

  A smile flickered on Brocknor’s lips. “So you aren’t angry anymore?”

  Jahl cocked his head. “I’ll be a little angry for as long as I’m here. I can’t help it. But what I want is not to let it control me, and colour everything I think and feel. It does no one any good, least of all me. I’ll never stop missing my family and friends. I’ll never stop thinking about them. Mari has forgotten her family and it has left her with a sadness that goes all the way to her bones. I don’t want that for myself. I want to remember everyone important in my life.”

  Brocknor’s eyes misted over. As he stood, light reflected on the tears that hadn’t yet fallen. They hugged tightly, and before long, they kissed.

  “You are very special to me,” whispered Brocknor. “Never stop believing that either.”

  Chapter 8

  Days flowed into weeks, and the weeks into months. Over time, Jahl found himself falling in love with Brocknor. It might have been proximity, or it might have been the fact that Jahl had accepted his lot in life, and instead of fighting against a situation he couldn’t change, he funnelled his feelings and emotions into enjoying what he had.

  “What’s happened to your plans to escape?” asked Mari with a wink and a sly smile.

  Jahl couldn’t help smiling back. “I could hardly do that and leave you here.”

  “Pfft!” Mari shook her head. “You’ve changed your tune.” She laughed. “A few months ago, you were all huffing and puffing, all full of fire and brimstone, and now you’re a little kitten.”

  Jahl put his hand on his hip. “So you wouldn’t mind if I ran off and left you here?”

  Mari shrugged. “Was doing fine here by myself before you arrived.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by Brocknor calling for Jahl from his study.

  Jahl hurried to him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Brocknor looked at him quizzically. “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s a beautiful day and I thought I’d take a walk out to the property. Ask Mari to pack us a picnic lunch and we’ll all go together.”

  A picnic? Since when did a master take his slaves on a picnic?

  “Is everything all right?” asked Brocknor, obviously noticing Jahl’s confusion.

  Jahl nodded, turned, and left the room.

  “You’ll never guess what he wanted,” he said, hurrying into the kitchen.

  Mari was about to pluck a chicken for dinner. “What?”

  “The master has just asked me to ask you to pack us a picnic lunch.”

  Mari grinned. “How romantic.”

  Jahl shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. He’s invited you, too. He wants the three of us to go out to the property, and he wants you to make us a picnic lunch.”

  “That is strange. But I don’t want to go. I’ll make you some lunch, but it’s too far to walk and I have so much to do here.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun. Get some sun and some fresh air.”

  Mari started gathering things—olives, fruit, cheese, bread. “I’ve got all the fresh air I need right here, thank you. Besides, I’d only be in the way.” She smirked and pointed to the larder. “Get me a wicker basket. Not the light-coloured one. The other one.”

  Jahl found the item on the top shelf where Mari kept containers, jugs, and baskets. “Please come,” he said, placing the basket on the table.

  “No. And once you’ve been out there, you’ll see what I mean about the walk.”

  She finished packing the basket, and Jahl uncharacteristically kissed her on the cheek before hurrying from the room.

  He met Brocknor by the front door.

  “Mari didn’t want to come,” he explained. “She’s not fond of walking.”

  Brocknor opened the door. “That’s a shame.” He grabbed Jahl’s buttock. “But now I have you all to myself.”

  They exited through the gate and began walking along the dirt road, away from town.

  “What is this property of yours?” asked Jahl.

  “It belonged to my parents. I inherited it when they died. I have some sheep and goats, which I sell for meat and wool. Twice a year I have a wheat crop, and that brings in a great deal of money.”

  “But you’re never there.”

  Brocknor patted him on the back. “You don’t know where I go when I leave the villa. But you’re right, I don’t go there often. About once a month to check on things.”

 
; Jahl was puzzled. “Once a month? How can you get so much work done if you only visit once a month?”

  Brocknor laughed. “I don’t do the work. I pay to have it done. There are two brothers and their families who live there. They take care of things.”

  Jahl felt compelled to ask, “Are they slaves?”

  Brocknor looked at him, wearing an expression that could almost be read as one of hurt. “No, they aren’t slaves. As I said, they’re paid, and rather handsomely. They also have free accommodation and free meat and eggs.”

  Jahl nodded. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know.”

  After a small silence, Jahl and Brocknor drifted into a more general conversation about their families.

  “My brother’s in the navy,” explained Brocknor. “He’s a commander. He lives in a great city far from here. He has a wife and three sons. He’s very rich—rich enough to have let me have the farm to myself.”

  Despite having improved his vocabulary since being captured, Jahl still didn’t know many words Brocknor used. But while he didn’t understand everything about Brocknor’s brother, he gleaned he was an important man who had done well for himself. Nevertheless, he looked at every word he didn’t understand as an opportunity.

  “What is ‘navy’?”

  “It’s a group of fighting men. They sail on boats on the sea, defending the city and the lands surrounding it.”

  “And ‘city’?”

  “Well, a city is like a town, only much, much bigger. Thousands of people live there. They have tall buildings, two and three storeys high, and monuments and fountains. The streets are always full of people, and full of sounds and smells.”

  “It’s hard to imagine so many people and all those buildings. Where I come from, there are no more than eighteen houses, built in the trees. We climb great ladders to get to them, and at night, we pull the ladders up so we are safe when we sleep.”

  “Only eighteen?”

  “Yes. You sound surprised.”

  “It’s just that eighteen isn’t very many, that’s all. I thought your village would be larger.”

  “When we become men and before we are married, we sleep together in a special long house. The unmarried women stay with their families. Sometimes the young women get married to men from other tribes and they leave the village forever. That means we rarely have to build extra houses, though when we do, everyone helps.”