The Spoils of War Ch. 01

I woke uncomfortably. The rough stone floor on which I had slept was cold, as was the steel locked around my neck and my wrists. A short chain leash that connected the collar around my neck to the floor afforded me little room to move, even if I were so inclined. My hands were similarly locked closely behind me, adding to my discomfort. I was naked. I was cold.

Nonetheless, I had slept. Exhaustion had overcome me. Our captors had marched us for a night and the better part of the next day without rest, before confining us in this dungeon. The soldiers who had taken our village had spared me of the abuse they had heaped onto the younger girls. I supposed it was because I am a little older. The unmarried girls had provided ample entertainment for the soldiers. It mattered little. All of us were bound and marched to the victor's city. Some were chained near me. I knew not what had happened to the others

Neither did I know what had become of my husband. We were separated in the chaos as our village was sacked. I could only hope he was alive. Male slaves were valuable too, I thought. Surely they would find it useful to keep him alive. He was strong. Surely he would find a way to escape. Surely he would come for me.

But I knew hope was futile. The new day would only bring new horrors, for I had awoken in a slaver's dungeon. I would be branded as a slave. They would press the hot iron somewhere into my body and mark me forever. Nothing would ever remove it. I would be someone's property for the rest of my days.

I began to hear the screams of the other girls as they were dragged off by their collars one by one. Loud, piercing screams echoed through the stone halls of the dungeon as they were branded. Some resisted, it seems, as I could hear the sound of the whip and the shrieks of its victims.

Each new scream heightened my anxiety. I could only imagine how much this was going to hurt. Worse still was the effect it was having on my mind. I would no longer be a free woman. No longer would I be a wife with a loving husband and dreams of starting a family. I would be bought and sold like cattle. What would become of me? Would I be used like a whore in one of those awful brothels? Or sold to a farm as field slave? And what of my poor husband? Would he be sent to the mines? Slaves do not return from the mines. I choked back a sob.

Then it was my turn. Two men came for me. Large, evil-looking men who laughed and smiled. They seemed to be enjoying their work.

"This is the one," one of them said as he put his fingers through my hair, holding it up in the torchlight, "No point in doing the brand just yet. Bring her, the Lady awaits."

Lady? What could this mean? Was I to be a lady's slave? I had heard the free women of this city could be cruel. But likely I would not be constantly raped. I looked up and thought to ask. But my mouth was parched and the words would not come. It was just as well. At best they would ignore me. At worst they would punish me for asking.

They attached a leash to my collar. I would be led like an animal again. After unlocking me from the floor they motioned for me to stand. I did so, painfully, my hands still locked behind me.

"Open your mouth, slut," one of them barked. I did not dare disobey. Never in my life had I been called that word before the fall of our village. Now it seemed to be my only name. They stuffed my mouth with a rag and then bound it firmly in place with a strap. A look of horror filled my eyes, but one of my captors chuckled. "This is for your own good, slut. You utter one word in front of the Lady and she'll have your tongue." This seemed to calm me at first. But then I thought of the cruelty of a woman who would cut out my tongue for so much as an utterance. What kind of person could this be who would own me? Fear creeped into me as they led me away. At least I would not be branded, I thought.

The led me up through the cavernous dungeon. My bare feet hurt on the rough stones, not having yet fully recovered from the long march to this place. They led me past unimaginable horrors, likely on purpose to frighten me. It was effective. I saw rooms filled with chains, whips, and racks. They paused by a large pot of oil and a chain suspended over it. One of them looked at me and said, "you best behave or you'll be boiled alive in there." I shuddered, having no reason to doubt his words.

Up some steps they led me into a bright, sunlit room. I squinted, having spent long hours in the dungeon. The men motioned for me to kneel and then lay on the floor. I obeyed quickly, fearing their wrath. Before I could see what was happening, they had affixed tight ropes around my ankles. One of them turned to a winch and began hauling me up by my ankles. "Hold still and be silent—remember what I told you," the man said. I was too frightened to even try to speak as I was hauled up by the winch. Higher and higher I went, until my body was lifted well off of the ground. My hands were locked behind me and all I could do was dangle. My long red hair flowed beneath me. My husband had loved my hair and spent endless time brushing or caressing it. I choked back a sob at the memory, not daring to make a sound. They stopped when my head dangled some five feet above the ground.

"Ok, go get the Lady," said the man at the winch.

It seems I hung there endlessly until at last a woman came in with a well-dressed man and my other captor.

"So this is the one. I am hoping you are not wasting my time," she said.

"My men know exactly what you are looking for. I am sure you will be pleased," replied the well-dressed man.

The boots of the men clicked on the stone floor as they crossed it, but the soft steps of her slippers made no sound. Still, it was as if I could feel her cold approach. I was getting dizzy from dangling upside down. I hung like a side of meat before a noble lady of the city of my conqueror, wearing nothing but a collar, but I was too frightened to be embarrassed. In any event, the Lady seemed uninterested in my body. The well-dressed man's eyes roamed over my naked skin, but the Lady's gaze focused on my hair. She approached, and silently held it in her hand, slowly stroking it. Again, I remembered my husband's loving touch, although this was nothing like that. Her touch felt clinical.

"I have to commend you Bastia, it is just what I am looking for," she said. " Very well done indeed. Though you might have washed it."

My hair was a mess having endured a long march. I am sure I smelled terribly as well.

"She was just brought it. And we knew you would want to see it immediately," the man replied.

"Well I want it washed before it is harvested. But I will take it. How soon can I have it delivered?" she asked.

It? I had assumed I would be the Lady's handmaid or some such thing. I had heard that slaves were sometimes referred to as "it" in the way animals often are, but something seemed off about this exchange. Could they be talking about my hair?

"We will wash and sheer the girl immediately for you, my Lady. You can have it within the hour," the man replied.

"Not to me. Straight to the wigmaker," she said. "This is just the color. You really have done well."

"Red is in fashion my Lady, but we thought of you first," the man answered.

My God, I thought, they were discussing my hair. They were going to cut off my hair and give it to the Lady for a wig. I choked back another sob.

"And of course you will dispose of the girl," the Lady said coldly.

"Ummu, now Lady, we are not in the habit of disposing of useful property," the man replied. "Likely she is headed to one of our fair city's brothels, should she survive training."

The Lady frowned. "Mm but with time her hair will grow back. The color is unusual, as you know from my long search. I cannot imagine how you would think I would tolerate having one of my husband's friends or one of our guards see it on this slut in a brothel after seeing the hue on me. Unacceptable. Destroy her after sheering. Surely a house like this has guard dogs it must feed."

My eyes widened in horror. They only wanted my hair and then I would be fed to dogs! I realized why I had not been subjected to the brand. There was no point if I was only going to be torn apart by animals. I tried to shriek in protest and fear, but the gag restrained me. I also saw the look of warning in my captor's eyes; if I disobeyed, I could be tortured slowly before being killed.

"Well, the rest of the girl is not without some worth, Lady. You could buy her outright and have us dispose of her," the man said grimly.

"Ha! So now I see your game," the Lady chuckled." Very clever way of extracting a few more copper pieces."

"Look a moment at the girl, Lady." His eyes ran over my body as he spoke. "She is slender but with delicious curves and sweet red lips. Her breasts are lovely to the sight of men. Surely you can see how much her body could earn for us in the brothel. She is worth more than copper to us."

"How dare you speak of such things in front of me!" The Lady was incensed. "Of course this lowly village slut would doubtless enjoy herself in the brothel. I know this. I care not. I will not have her in this city! For your rudeness I will pay you nothing more. You will do this for the agreed price of the hair." She continued to finger my hair as she spoke of my death.

"In fact, I am not sure I can trust you," she continued. "I see that look in your eyes, Bastia. Greed. Slaver's greed. You will have her head sent directly to the wigmaker. Now. I know you keep a sharp axe and a chopping block right below us for unmanageable slaves. Let her down, drag her there and do it now."

Now fear overcame me. I could feel myself being lowered and I began to struggle. I wanted to plead for my life, throw myself to the Lady's feet and beg to be her slave. Surely, I thought, there was some humanity in the woman who wanted my hair.

"You could keep her as a maid and grow a second wig," the well-dressed man said, staying his henchman with his hand, stopping my descent.

"Impossible, you fool," the Lady spouted. "Everyone would see my hair came from this ignorant slut. Unacceptable. Her HEAD, Bastia. My price is for her head. NOW!"

"Well," Bastia replied, "how about a compromise? There is a ship being loaded with the plunder from this girl's town. Several slaves included. Their men will be at the oars, in fact. It is off to a distant land across the sea. I will sell her to the captain. I will brand her in their style. They will sell her off there and she will never return. That way I will get some profit on her."

The Lady seemed to mull this over. I knew my life turned on the Lady's next words. "Fine," she said. I almost cried. "But, also add our banishment brand. I never want her here again."

"Done," exclaimed Bastia. "Do you wish to see her branded to ensure we have done it?"

"I do not have time for such nonsense," scoffed the Lady. "My guard will watch to be sure. Sheer the slut, brand her, and deliver her to this ship you speak of. If she returns, she will be destroyed. Doubtless no owner will allow the slut to grow her hair that long anyway. I take my leave of you Bastia. Be sure that hair is washed before you sheer the girl." She motioned for her guard to remain.

Would I be on the same ship as my husband? Dread and fear turned to hope in my mind. Of course if he were a work slave in town, I would never see him again. Wearing a banishment brand meant that if I set foot in this city, I would be impaled on a spike—even if some foolish owner were to bring me here by mistake. I watched the Lady walk away. How cruel that she will parade around with my hair, I thought. At least I would be allowed to live. Branded twice, sheered like an animal, in horrible pain, but alive.