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.
