Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 49

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Bride Price

Victor Krosse did not like making these excursions, he usually sent another trusted man in his stead. A man Like Greyson or Hawkins. However on this matter his Lord had been most insistent Victor attend personally.

As always it was over a woman, an unattainable woman. Yet another flower in the long procession of endless beauty that was for whatever reason always unacceptable to his dour Lord. She was not a virgin, she spoke too much, she was not as beautiful as her photograph. The list of faults Lothar found in his prospective brides were endless. His aide and second in command had long ago tired of the game.

The price was ridiculous and so was the summons. A turbaned black clad messenger had arrived bearing an artist's hasty rendition of even to his eyes what promised to be a very spectacular woman. Oh we have reentered the medieval days! The Doctor thought sarcastically; as he again unfurled the portrait in his black gloved hands on its ragged canvas. How did he know this likeness was even accurate? It was probably just some demented artist's flight of whimsy, but sadly he must act on it.

Perhaps this will be the last time Victor sighed, as he rode his raven mount under the portcullis and out into the dunes that stretched for an infinity before him. A three day ride in the cold on an ailing man's fancy did not appeal.

He would not worry over his Lord's condition during his absence, his capable fawning understudy Merton would be quite adequate to administer his Lords care. The man would blindly do anything that the good Doctor ordered, and being never formally trained in the vast and complex field of medicine he would do anything he was told. Victor smiled at the thought, even in his absence he still had the capacity to pull the strings of his puppet on the throne.

He did not ride alone, he had six very capable men with him including Major Hawkins a man he implicitly trusted and valued. Perhaps it would not be all bad. Master Jacques did routinely hold some very stimulating entertainments after all. A smile again lit his bitter features as he grimaced into the cold wind thinking on the blood sports he so enjoyed but did not have the leisure to witness.

Victor was sure he would get a private viewing during his visit. Deciding the week's break may just do him good, he had been too long cloistered within these walls. He pulled the high collar up about his neck on his thick, wool military style overcoat. The gold buttons gleamed on the field of stark black, and his put his silver spur to his ebon mount's flank urging it to an easy gallop. His men followed suit.

*****

Three days of hard riding and rough makeshift camps, Victor was glad to see the gates of the adobe walled structure part before him. The trip had been uneventful, a blessing in these dangerous times. Tonight he would enjoy the luxury of good food, fine wine, perhaps a hot bath followed the carnal delights of a well trained slave girl.

He and his men reigned in their tired horses before the water trough, servants and stable boys hurried to break the ice on the water before the thirsty animals.

Aran in chains and under heavy guard had been allowed the rare freedom of exercise up top in the open compound. His guards had secured him when the riders had ridden in. The handsome heavy horses and fine livery drew the eye, but in Aran's case it was none of those things. He was drawn to the blood red standard and the black wolf centered on its crimson field. The Wolf Lord's standard, that adorned the fine horses livery.

It had been over a year since he had at last fought this resilient foe. Remembering the great victory over the knights and crushing the Wolf himself in the canyon, only to be slaughtered and betrayed in their attack on the fortress. His clan had never recovered from that loss. He gazed at the scar that ran the full length of his sword arm, his own personal souvenir of that crushing defeat.

His guards were tugging on his chains, urging him in no uncertain manner to return below. Aran in defiance lingered, watching the party of men greet Master Jacques on the steps to his palatial home, only to be struck viciously by the hated wooden club. He was ushered down the steps that led to the subterranean corridors that connected the bleak cells of the pit fighters.

The cell door closed behind him, he sought his cape it was his only covering. He curled in a ball on the hard floor, darkness was descending rapidly. He thought of Maya and longed for a woman's comforts. It had been so long.

*****

He had almost drifted into sleep dreaming of soft yielding female flesh beneath him, when he woke to voices. There were two men with a lighted torch peering into his cell.

"Here he is, he is quite the gladiator."

The torch was thrust part way through the bars bathing Aran in a pool of light.

"Get up!" Master Jacques ordered. Aran complied slowly blinded by the light in his eyes. "Lose the fur." Jacques commanded.

Aran let his covering fall from his powerful shoulders, he stood naked but for the steel restraints before the two men.

Victor was silent for a time, he had the express feeling he had seen this very man before. He was usually very accurate at recall, the man before him bothered his sensibilities. Yet he could not say why.

"What do you think?" Jacques asked expectantly.

"You are right he is exquisite, a very fine specimen. I am surprised you only branded him with the generic mark and did not add your own."

Aran found himself subconsciously placing his left hand over the still fresh brand on his thigh, he was beginning to discover the truth of the mark that was made on him.

"I decided to only brand him as a common slave." Jacques said. "I did not want to reduce his value by placing my own initials on him should he prove as good or better than my other champion fighter."

"You would sell him then?" Victor questioned.

"Oh yes, for the right offer everything is for sale."

Both men laughed, Aran did not feel comfortable being discussed in this way. It was as though these two men did not credit him with any form of human intelligence.

"He reminds me of a project I had once." Victor mused out loud. "He bears an uncanny resemblance to a man I tortured for six days last year. He was strong, never seen any man last as long as he did. I finally had to resort to removing his sex. It was at that point I realized he did not have the information I was seeking."

"I bet he spoke volumes then." Again both men laughed.

"To be truthful he had very little to tell." Victor said in a voice that held lustful overtones.

Aran stood frozen at what he had just heard. This Germanic accented man he could not view to any satisfaction beyond the flames of the torch had been the man of his brother's torment.

"It would destroy a fighters performance to do that." Jacques went on.

"Oh I am sure, it destroys most men." Victor said lightheartedly.

"Well, I will grant you the privilege of watching this fine animal in action tomorrow as we conduct some business."

"I would enjoy that greatly." Victor purred.

"Ah it's cold down here." Jacques stated rubbing his hands together. "Let us adjourn to the fire, for some songs performed my talented bard, some wine, and of course some beautiful young girls."

"You are the most sublime of hosts." Victor purred, he was glad he had come after all.

*****

Aran had not slept at all well, inured to the hard ground and the cold as he was it should have been easy to do so. However he spent the long hours of night laying on his back looking up at the darkness of his cell dwelling on the visitor of last evening and his chilling admission. His fingers idly tracing the endless triangle scarred in to his thigh.

The grating of steel doors, the calls of his fellow prisoners, all the sounds echoed from the earthen walls to him. Aran woke, blond hair spilling over the dust on the floor, vibrant green eyes toward the ceiling as he had lain the entirety of the previous night. His keeper was already turning the key in the lock, the two faceless black clad men looming behind him. Always at the ready to subdue these dangerous inmates.

Aran was in no hurry to rise, he made no move to even cover himself. Keith set Aran's ration down on the floor, there was no furniture of any kind in his cell just the hard dusty floor that suited for all purposes. Today he bore a metal pail and a rag draped over his arm, he set this down on the floor also. "Wash," was all he said.

Aran did not acknowledge his one word request. He merely waited for the men to leave.

He did not have long to wait. Keith never lingered in his company. The warrior rose slowly as he heard the footfalls of the retreating men and the series of iron barred doors being locked and unlocked as the other prisoners were fed and checked over.

It was the same routine every day. Aran wondered briefly how long could he do this, the thought held dangerous overtones. Better not to answer that he told himself, after all he knew from the conversation he had been privy to last night this may not be forever. In the words of Master Jacques he was for sale after all. He would content himself with that, as he reached for the icy water in the bucket to clean away the filth of many days.

*****

Victor and his men had enjoyed a sumptuous evening of many delights. He had to admit the notorious slaver certainly could impress, his hospitality was grandiose. It was something Master Jacques was widely known for. Both he and Lothar had visited many times in the past, to be entertained and make various acquisitions.

These niceties aside, today they would talk business. Victor was mentally preparing himself for this as he rose to perform his morning ritual ablutions. They took some time, he was as always his sharp scintillating self as he emerged to take his breakfast with Jacques.

"My Lord was most distressed he could not make the journey this time." Victor said as he seated himself at the wooden table. Unlike the one in his Lord's dining hall, this one was rather diminutive and rough hewn. There was little show of elegance here, not even a simple table cloth.

The food had been set forth. It was simple fare but in these hard times still very delicious.

"Yes, I was most disappointed also. I have missed the company of the old bear."

The two men laughed, a slave girl hovered behind them pouring tea from a silver teapot into fine china cups. Incongruous in this otherwise brutal and bare looking abode.

"Yes, I miss him," Jacques said regrettably. "How is he anyhow?"

"He has his good and bad days." Victor said, breaking the fresh baked bread with his hands anticipating its deliciousness.

"I am sure, well perhaps I can supply him with something that he can greatly enjoy?"

So he was already down to business Victor thought, so like this man. He sipped his tea, it was refreshing and one of the ways he loved to start his day. "So do tell me is she as good as her portrait suggests. Is she really worth ten tons of rations?"

Jacques smiled, folding his ring less hands over his thickening midsection. He looked most pleased with himself. "She is even better." He promised. Jacques imperiously snapped his fingers and the door opened, Victor looked across to see two men escorting a very tall and graceful woman into the room. She held herself like a Queen.

For a moment even the officious and most confident Victor paused. Jacques caught his guests hesitation and surprise, the assured smile again alighting on his face.

"As you can see I did not lie."

Victor was thinking swiftly, she was beautiful. No, more than that. Exquisite, but even without knowing her he could already tell she would be far too much woman for his ailing Lord. He could already visualize this strong amazon ruling from Lothar's side. A vision the Doctor did not relish. He had already decided this transaction should not go ahead.

"Would you like to see more?" There was an unmistakable roguish gleam in Jacques' eye at the thought of this proud woman's forced nakedness in front of his guest.

Victor saw the woman stiffen at Jacques words, even though she was tied and helpless Victor did not mistake the defiance and fight that burned in her lovely blue grey eyes for all to see. It would take a very strong man to make her his, Victor ruminated.

Possibly Jacques would have difficulty selling her after all, and would have been better advised to add her to his brutal retinue as a fighting curiosity to enthrall the masses. However he said none of this, merely telling his host he was stunned by her beauty, and he needed time to think.

*****

The day was as those that preceded it, cold overcast, but thankfully not windy. A fine day for one of Master Jacques spectacles. Victor sat next to his guest in the best of the seats, his men also lounged close by, as did an assortment of guards and selected house staff, along with other trusted high ranked men who occupied this compound.

Aurianne sat nearby where she had been directed. Her hands were tied behind her back, she smiled at Jhary as he sought her company.

"Shall I play you a song m'lady?" He asked, mischief in his voice.

He had fared better in this place than all others. Aurianne had to admire the ever charming man's ability to always land on his feet, and seemingly without ever having to draw a sword.

She smiled, the music would be good cover for anything they wished to exchange. Jhary's elegant fingers began to pluck a tune. The few simple notes becoming much more as the artful man lent the composition he knew by heart new life. Aurianne saw both Victor and Master Jacques look her way, but they soon turned their attention from her to their own conversations.

"He plans to try to marry me off to the highest bidder. I will not go quietly." She said trying to appear calm, yet inside Aurianne felt very impassioned.

"He wishes to retain my services here m'lady. Not so bad for me."

Aurianne nodded, neither of them mentioned or commented on Aran's fate.

"I have something very special in store for you today Doctor." Jacques announced. Victor smiled one of his tight lipped smiles, mind elsewhere. Wading through the best possibilities to say no to this deal he was supposed to broker at his Lord's behest. Even though he loved nothing more than a good display of human misery and bloodshed, especially a man's struggle in his last moments. That delicious moment when the man knows he is beaten, but Victor's mind was not on it today.

Jacques stood, and the first match of the day was initiated. It was between a powerful man armed with no more than a short sword, and an enraged bull.

"My wager is on the bull." Victor said over the noise of the small crowd, as the huge brown animal came bolting into the ring on its short, powerful legs. It was obvious the great beast had already been previously tormented to ready it for the show, and it was now in a very enraged state.

Aurianne looked down at the terrible spectacle that played out before her. The man in the ring resembled Darius, he fought well. The bull was fierce, with little care for its own hide. It charged the man without care even tearing its own flesh as it barreled recklessly into the walls of the arena smashing anything in its path.

It seemed immune to pain. Its white boned horns were sharp and deadly. It attempted to gore the man as he fought to get close enough to disembowel the monster. This being one of the only strategies that could really injure the enraged animal. For its size it was surprisingly swift, turning about on itself in an instant to suddenly face its attacker. A truly terrifying foe.

Aurianne looked away as the great animal caught the man with its horns opening up his side torn and bloody. Jhary's tune faltered momentarily but bravely he played on, preferring his music and to watch his hands strumming the instrument as the terrible contest reached its bloody conclusion. Man for all his cleverness had failed over the might of the beast.

"You win," Jacques said to his guest. Taking up his goblet. Victor did likewise, answering only with the faintest of smiles.

It took some time to remove the bull from the arena. The vanquished man was dragged unceremoniously away, his blood trailing in the dust. The arena floor was raked and prepared for the next bout.

A large wooden saw horse was placed into the center of the ring. This device usually stood in the courtyard. It was used to discipline unruly slaves, or hold them for other brutal purposes. Once the unfortunate was bent over it and secured they were helpless to avoid a caning or even a sexual advance.

Jacques turned toward Victor. "Now for something very special," he said. "An exhibition match between my champion fighter and my most promising new one."

"Surely I do not merit this honor?" Victor was quick to reply.

Jacques smiled expansively "You mistake my intentions." He elaborated. "It is merely an exhibition bout, but should my champion win, you will I am assured vastly enjoy the outcome."

"I see." Victor replied, draining his glass.

*****

Aran stood in his cell while his keeper applied the grease to his body. He could hear the sounds of the first match being concluded beyond the two steel barred gates that divided him from the arena proper. Why he had been requested to wash this morn was quite beyond him, the awful smelling rancid fat made any earlier attempt at cleanliness most futile.

All he could think of was his keeper desired his charge to be less fragrant as he applied it. Aran had after all not washed for many weeks. The man's impersonal hands still bothered him, but he willed himself to stand still. He had been hit many times for non cooperation. All Kevin had to do was growl and he would feel the painful blow of the club on his back. The last thing he needed before a fight was soreness for his opponent to capitalize on.

"Today you will face Master Jacques' unbeaten favorite, in hand to hand combat."

So this explained the grease that was being applied to this every inch, all to prolong the contest and make it doubly hard to find a hold.

"It is only a show contest like wrestling, do you understand? There will be no killing."

Aran nodded.

*****

The first of the contestants entered the arena to much fanfare, this man was Master Jacques' champion. The fighter had been owned by Jacques for just a little over a year, and had remained undefeated. Many fine wagers had been won and lost on this man. A year was a long time to survive on the pit fighting circuit, almost unheard of.

Aran was introduced second, another rousing cheer as he entered. Both contestants stood weaponless and naked opposite one another. Each man in contemplation of the other, hoping to register some weakness.

Aran sighted the triangle mark on the man's left thigh and on his right one he bore a single letter J. The personal brand of Master Jacques. Aran was a good four inches taller than the other man, younger as well, and quite possibly stronger. He flexed his balled fists, feeling fairly confident.

He looked into the crowd today, most of the amphitheater lay empty, his jade eyes alighting on her. He paused captured by her presence, she was still here, still safe. He hoped unspoiled, though he had to confess he would have her anyway. She was looking down at him was it with fear, pity or something else? Aran was held spellbound by her gaze, in a way no earthly chains had ever made him feel.

He had erred in his awareness and the bout had already started. His opponent caught him off guard and bore him swiftly to the ground.

Victor had not missed the silent yet powerful interaction between the man below and the beautiful woman who sat back straight, her eyes on the arena floor. He wondered briefly if he was not being passed sullied goods after all. Possibly the large blond warrior had already divested her of her virginity. At last he had the material he sought, he would use this later to signal his intent to decline the deal.