Chapter 2
Opening
The maiden entered his room, carrying a basket. Now that he was recovered, more or less, the countess had the prisoner placed in the toy room. She called it her toy room but it was more of a dungeon, a prison cell. It was a holding area for her slaves until they learned proper fear of her. Dark and quiet, you couldn't hear the activities in the estate in this room. In this room, all you could do was think.
She had given him a lot to think about.
She had tortured him, for one. He was then made to watch as one of her handmen satisfied the arousal his pain had elicited in her. Then she brought him to the village. She displayed him in the town square and made a speech everybody present knew by heart. Everybody but Evert, the true audience for her performance. She enumerated the rich, luscious rewards that would be bestowed upon anybody who caught him should he escape. He was then place in stocks for three hours while the villagers familiarized themselves with his looks, tried to memorize every feature of his face.
They whispered to him as they studied him. The maiden knew what they said. They told him he needn't worry about them. They would help if he tried to break free.
Just come straight to my house. I'll get you out of this situation. I live just there where the mottled horse stands. Come there and I'll get you home, safe and warm in your own bed.
They made these promises every time, drooling at their own fantasies. It usually took a new slave a few such proposals before he figured out their true intention. Each new slave always had hopeful eyes at first, eyes that slowly dimmed with the understanding that each villager was making his own bid for the countess' favors.
Come to my house so I can be the one to turn you in
.
But Evert gave the first villager the same deeply wary stare he gave the last. It seemed he knew the villagers would tell him these things before they did. Evert did not let his terror turn him into a fool. He seemed to understand without explanation or time to ponder.
Still, the countess wanted him in the toy room, thinking about his situation. He might understand his predicament but she wanted him to stew in that understanding. Not for too long, though. Six hours was long enough. He also needed his sleep.
Once she had lit enough torches, she looked over this new slave. Alone with him, she was the most powerful person in the room. She savored that feeling as it was rare. She hardly had time alone with a slave. The only person at the estate with less power that herself was the cook but the cook barely noticed that the maiden existed. She certainly didn't feel powerful when alone with the cook. She felt powerful standing over Evert.
Rings were welded all over the iron frame of his bed. Tonight, his cuffs where locked to its corners, spreading his arms and legs in an X. She dwelled on the thought that she could do anything she wanted to him and he couldn't stop her. She swirled the idea in her mouth like a single, stolen sip of somebody else's rich drink. Then she brought a stool next to his bed and sat on it.
"Hi," she said. He didn't respond. Digging in the basket, "Welcome to the castle. I don't suppose anyone has welcomed you." She took a jar out of the basket and lay the basket on the floor. He stared at her. She opened the jar, scooped some salve in her fingers and began applying it to his wounds.
She was surprised he spoke. "Who is that woman?"
Circling her fingers delicately over his welts, "She is the Countess Lemuil. She is a powerful woman. Not herself but she has many powerful friends which makes her powerful, too. I suppose. And her husband is powerful."
"Her husband? Where is he? Does he know that she does this with the slaves while he's away?"
"He's staying with a friend for a couple months. He's staying with them 'cause he was gonna be in the county. There to get another slave so, yeah, he knows. You might want to think on that. She never took two slaves together, before. She'll probably pick the one she likes and get rid of the other. And you know she can't set you free, right? If she gets rid of you, that means killing. You might could think on making her happy."
"How would I do that," he asked. His eyes bore into her and she got the sense that he wasn't truly asking the question. Just like with the cook, she lost all sense of her appointed power. He was completely vulnerable to her but she was the one who felt weak and insecure.
She changed the subject. "Do you know where they are? Those papers?" She heard a
tink
as the loop on his cuffs knocked the iron frame of the bed.
"No," he said and closed his eyes. She understood why. The salve was very effective, a quick healer, it prevented scarring but, best of all, it made the pain go away for a couple of hours.
"You wrote it. Don't you remember what it said?"
"Every word."
"Then why didn't they just make you tell them that?"
"They know. The countess, what does she want from me?" He brought the topic right back to where he wanted it and gazed into her eyes again. Why couldn't she control people the way the countess did? It had so much more to do with the chains and whips. What was that other part? What was she missing?
The maiden began putting the salve on his scrotum.
Tink, tink, tink
