She sobbed, curled up in her small cot until exhaustion and sleep took her into its embrace.
She dreamed in vivid detail that she was back on her family farm in their little cottage. By the hearth was her long since departed mother.
She was just as she remembered her from when she was a young girl, sitting by the wood fire on a rocking chair. She ran to her mother and embraced her. Her mother returned the hug and held her tight as the tears streamed down her face.
"Mother, forgive me!" she cried. Her mother held her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"What is there to forgive my child?" she questioned.
"I am no longer pure," she managed between the sobs.
Her mother looked her in the eye and asked a question? "Why do you need forgiveness for something that was done to you, not by you? Purity! Ha, this is a man's word. He cannot claim you unless you let him."
"I... I..." she stammered lost for the words "I could not stop them, I could not resist him..." She trailed off.
Her mother's stare was intense but kindly and she spoke says "Listen my little bird. Life can be cruel. We can lose the ones we love most dearly. But you are strong in spirit.
Where-ever you are, you honour us by your survival."
She had forgotten that her mother affectionately called her little bird. It shifted her focus to remember little details such as this.
"Death comes for us all one day, but every day until then is a gift and we must make the most of it, whatever challenges it presents." her mother continued.
She though on her mother's words then replied.
"I... I...I don't know how I will survive a place like this. This man, this Khan, he leads armies and commands so many. He has a control even over my body, the pleasure, I feel he cannot be resisted."
Her mother's indignant response was quick "Not true! He is a man, like any other. Men may think that they lead a family, or an Army or a Nation. But they are only men. True, he has physical strength, but I know that you are stronger in different ways. You can bend him to your will."
"How? How can I achieve such a feat?" she asked of her mother in an astounded tone.
"If this man is the head of an army, then your will become his neck. The neck can make the head nod in agreement, make it shake in refusal and even bow in submission."
"Understand the desires of the head then you can turn it to your will."
She awoke with a start. The dream was still crystal-clear in her mind, every one of her mother's words burned into her memory. She had heard stories of past loved ones who came in visions to people in need, but never put much stock in the tales. This vision of her mother had changed her perspective, given her new purpose and she no longer felt shame or pity for herself.
She knew now she was not alone and wiped her tears away. She was strong willed and fierce, she would survive this, she would not be bowed.
She thought on her situation, her options, what few resources she had at her disposal and what she knew of this man and his people.
The spark of an idea came to her. The idea grew into a plan, and this then grew into a goal.
She knew this would take all of her willpower and sacrifice, but she would be focused, single-minded and deliberate to survive.
Late in the afternoon the guard came for her and took her to the fat servant woman who was preparing a bath for her. The white stained robe was taken away and she was ushered into the warm bath again. This time she paid close attention to her surroundings and the actions of her captors.
On the walls of the room, she again noticed pictures with symbols around them. It didn't matter which language they were in as she was illiterate as there had been no need for reading on the farm and no literature to read.
The pictures were of naked men and women in erotic embraces. Perhaps some kind of art, perhaps instructional. The women were being penetrated by the men or using their hands and mouths to pleasure them. She took careful note of the depicted couples, their poses and actions. Some of the contorted positions looked impossible, or at very least uncomfortable but she tried to commit as many to memory as she could.
The fat servant performed the same beauty routine as the previous night then ushered for her to get out of the bath and dried her. She was given a new robe, still in the luxurious fabric and similar to the last one but this one was red with a yellow streak,
The yellow was like in the Khan's armour and clothing, probably a sign of his ownership or claim of upon her.
Make up was applied to her face and then she was given the cup with the bitter drug to drink from again. How she wished she could swallow the cup of harsh liquid whole and dissociate from this world to that place of disembodied bliss, where her body sang songs of pleasure and all her worries melted like snow on a hot day. But she knew that to drink would leave her defenceless and her fate to chance.
She refused the cup, but the servant insisted she drank. She took the smallest of sips into her mouth but let it all flow out again back into the cup. There was a hint of the bitterness remaining in her mouth and a tingle on her lips and tongue.
The guard returned and put bindings on her wrist. She tightened and flexed her arm muscles to maximise their width so that when she relaxed, her restrains were somewhat loosened. As the guard led her to the Khan's room she was secretly able to loosen her bindings further so that she was partly freed on one wrist.
The guard once again tied her to the bedpost in the Khan's room but didn't check that her bindings were tight then and left her alone. This time she worked slowly to free herself further and when one wrist was loose, she undid her other binding.
She lay on the bed amongst the animal furs but acted as if she were still bound to it and in a drug induced stupor but internally, she was focusing, trying to psych herself up for the task ahead.
