The Farm Ch. 05

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The need to put miles between the encounter with the soldiers and night camp caused them to move through darkening shadows, but all felt safer and cleaner when camp was made. Aarmaan took his place by the fire and slowly ate the food offered him. The talk drifted to home and stories. No one talked of the near events of the day and his nakedness before them. They all knew a terrible event had passed them by. It was to the fire a boy came and called for Aarmaan to follow him. He rose and walked to Rahim's tent, set apart from the others.

He lifted the flap and ducked inside. Rahim stood and covered the short distance quickly. He grasped Aarmaan about the waist and kissed him firmly on the lips then drew away to take in his countenance and read what lay beneath. "I almost lost you today."

"I know."

"You would have let them take you. We've come too far to let it slip away because of pride."

"And for that I was willing to go."

"Were you not afraid?"

"Rahim, fear is crawling over me now. To be dragged off half naked." He shuddered.

Rahim kissed him again, "And for that you're brave, brave and glorious. How can you be brave if you don't know fear?"

Aarmaan folded his legs beneath him and settled on the ground. "I never thought of you beyond the street behind the palace. I never thought of you with a wife, a family."

"I was betrothed at eight and married at fifteen. My wife loves me. I love my children. I love you more than I love my own life."

They parted at Tyr with sighs and tears and long kisses. Rahim to return to his family with silver and gold and Aarmaan to England with death waiting. He hid the small purse in his turban and walked aboard a steamship, a brown parcel under his arm. After the ship left port, Aarmaan the tribesman descended to his small cabin and in the morning a nicely dressed Englishman stood at the rail and watched the sun rise and thought of Rahim. In the evening, he watched the sun set and tried to push the thoughts of drums and a rope from his mind. He talked to no one.

***

The London docks swarmed and hummed with goods and people of all sorts. Only a sweaty, red-face worker rolling a large barrel and a pair of whores noted the young man as he made his way to a street that held sailors' taverns and cheap rooms. He paid for one week in advance and found himself in a tiny room with a sagging bed, wooden chair, and a stand with pitcher and bowl. At a stationary shop he bought paper, ink, and nibs. He wanted to write down the battle at Kabul and put the facts straight in his mind. He wanted to write his last letter to Rahim.

It was on the return trip from the stationary shop that the young man was spotted by a heavily muscled man with a wandering brown eye and broken nose. He was shadowed after that and his shadow saw he kept no acquaintances and kept to himself, a man alone. Halden had an eye out for such a young man. He had a standing commission from his employer, Mrs. Featherwink, to fill a request from a very rich patron. Strong of body, blue of eye, clean-limbed and tall. A young man, twenty-one or maybe twenty-two, not a boy. Not a boy.

On his last night, the night before he presented himself to the army to face his trial and punishment, the young man placed his papers and letters in his breast pocket and took himself for one last walk to look at London. The fog rolled in off the Thames and he found himself turned around in the labyrinth of alleys and ways as he sought to return to his small room. He turned left, he was sure it was a left he needed to make and started down a stinking alley. His hand moved again to touch the papers in his coat. He paused realizing this wasn't his way back to the tavern. When he turned to retrace his steps the way was blocked by a large man.

"What have we here?"

"Please let me pass, sir."

"Sir am I." He moved closer.

"Excuse me, I am expected for a late engagement." The young man balled his fists and gauged his chances with the bruit. He did not feel confident, but a man with nothing to lose as he was, could beat worse odds.

Distracted by the man who blocked his way, the young man never heard March advance behind him, an iron bound cudgel raised. The world flashed blue and he dropped into black and lay motionless on the wet stones.

"Fetch the cart." Halden riffled through the pockets and found a few coins and some papers. The coins he kept. The papers he crumpled and tossed in the gutter.

When he regained his senses, he was chained and lying on damp straw. He moved slowly as blue lightning shot across his vision. The chains holding his wrists clanked dully. Yellow light fell on the straw through a small barred opening in a heavy door. He was in his shirt sleeves, his shoes were gone, he smelled pig.

The door opened and the large man entered. "So, who have we here?"

The young man didn't know the answer.

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AnonymousAnonymousabout 6 years ago
At Last

Where Prize came from has been a big question. This back story explains so much and makes his situation more appealing.

Can't wait for more.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
ah, much more than just a twisted man's passions

Wonderful chapter. Now, what lurks behind Gordy? Who is 'Prize' to Gordy? There is some previous connection, I think. I would so like Mrs. F and her thugs to meet a bad end.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
Incredible!

What a masterful story! To cannd: " why was an Englishman guarding the residence of the 'infidels'?" A "residence" was the residence-and-office of a British governor, consul, or ambassador. (And still is--as the "residence" in Ben-Gazi was.) In the middle and late 19th century, there were a number of mutinies by Indians against the English (read up on the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857, for example), and this seems to have been one of these mutinies.

I'm glad I kept reading this story, even though I'm not into SM. The last chapter turned the whole story around. I just hope we don't have to wait too long for the continuation or conclusion!

canndcanndabout 11 years ago
Great stuff...glad I hung on.

I agree with LaVie. I think people thought it was just a story written for the sake of a man being abused and humiliated and brain washed just for the sake of doing it. I had a feeling more was underneath it and stuck with it despite the tough parts and pity for the character. We still don't know his name do we? I thought the love story was beautiful. I wonder if Rahim was going to take him back to his home with him?I'd think so if he went to so much trouble to get him well and protect him and proclaim the strong love he felt for him. I only am unsure why was an Englishman guarding the residence of the 'infidels'? I loved the way you put it when you said 'Prize rhymes with Lies and sighs, etc....' Very clever. I thought you did a great job of seemlessly showing the lead in from his past to his present. There is also great imagery, esp. during the post-battle scene.

Is he only just getting his memory back? I can't help but feel you will somehow bring justice here. Either way, I am glad I stuck with it. It has turned much deeper and does bring out alot of emotion. I'm really waiting to see if Gordy is redeemed at all or if Prize will just find himself and the fight in him. I can only hope the pride that go him in trouble will lend him the fight he will need to escape if he takes that route.

LaVieErotiqueLaVieErotiqueabout 11 years ago
Incredible....

This chapter has just blown me away. The depth of emotion you have put into such beautifully constructed sentences has more than impressed me; it has moved me, utterly and completely. It takes a lot for me, but as I read about Aarman's tragic path from love to sacrifice, I had to pause, to gather myself.

Nothing short of brilliant.

And for what it's worth, your previous scorings have been too low, in my opinion, for the quality of this slow burn story. I absolutely loved this chapter, and BRAVO!!

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