by Susan Wright
Indeed, fury etched his deep voice. “What did you hear, Marja?”
I almost denied everything. But I couldn’t lie to him. “You told the other slaves to bring glory unto Vidaris, Master.”
His eyes narrowed. “What else?”
“I saw them go inside the magical ship and it sailed away.” The awe in my voice couldn’t be hidden.
Lexander sat forward, elbows on his knees, to glare into my face. I wanted to pull back, but that would displease him. “You will tell me everything you heard!”
“There was nothing else, I swear it.” My dirty palms ground together. “I am sorry I have angered you. The olf woke me and I was compelled to follow it . . .”
“I see.” Lexander quirked one brow. “An olf did it.”
“The olf called to me, so I went.”
For some reason, that seemed to amuse him. “I’d say it was a wicked imp to put you there at that time. So you saw the ship arrive. What am I to do with you now?”
I answered, “Whatever you desire, Master,” as I had been taught by Helanas.
“True, you are obedient enough for a new slave, unusually so. This is the first time you’ve left the haushold, isn’t it?”
I nodded, thinking of the long hard days I’d spent inside.
“And you a girl of the fens. I wonder that you haven’t sneaked out before this. I’ve seen how you’ve suffered.” He smiled almost wistfully. “And I’ve seen how hard you have tried to be content in Vidaris.”
I felt a rush of warmth in my face. He had seen the quivering tension in my heart. I longed to be free while I also yearned to be quiescent under his touch. I squirmed on the hard floor, loosing my pose for an instant.
Lexander considered me while I resumed kneeling in the pose of obedience—lydnad—straight from shoulders to knees, toes pointed and touching, gazing downward. After days of practice, I could hold the pose for quite some time. It was familiar now and did serve to calm me. But fear fluttered deep inside. Helanas’ punishment pole seemed paltry compared to what Lexander could inflict. What if he sent me away? What would my life be then?
Lexander held my gaze. “Will you promise not to speak of what you saw, Marja? Not a word?”
“Of a surety! I will never speak of it.”
“You won’t brag to the others? Would you not be tempted to tell your friends of what you saw this night?”
“Nobody talks to me,” I blurted out, “except sometimes Niels. And he’s so good he wouldn’t want to hear it.”
Lexander reclined back on the bench. “Perhaps it is best to keep yourself alone among the slaves. Helanas breeds competition, and to survive this intact you must learn to please her.”
I nodded, grateful for his advice.
“If you ever speak of this night, Marja, you will be punished severely. For now, you may return to bed. Tomorrow, you will pay the penance of my choosing. Then you will be forgiven.”
My mouth opened, struck by his possessive tone. It made me want to please him, to be forgiven now. I couldn’t bear his displeasure when I could atone. I almost begged for it.
“Go,” he ordered.
I slowly stood up and left the hall. For a long time after I slid back onto my pallet, I could not sleep. It was not an evil spirit I fought this time, but a longing I was unsure I could ever fulfill.
The next morning, Bjorn, Sigrid, and the two older slaves were gone. It wasn’t unusual for slaves to spend the night with Lexander or Helanas, even a group of four together. But when they didn’t join us at the day-meal, Sverker said knowingly, “Their training was complete. They’ve been sent to serve.”
“Does it always happen without warning?” Niels asked in a quavering voice. If Helanas had been present, we wouldn’t have spoken.
“Yes, this is the second time I’ve seen it happen,” Sverker replied. “The first was after harvest.”
“Will new slaves be joining us?” I asked.
“It depends on where they are found and when Lexander returns to fetch them.” He nodded to the Skraeling sisters, who had their arms around each other, though as usual they didn’t say anything. “Those two came at the end of winter.”
“Where did the others go?” Niels had to ask.
Ansgar lifted his hands. “We aren’t told and are forbidden to ask. All I know is that we are destined to serve emperors and kings.”
“Each to our own best ability,” Rosarin murmured in agreement.
I closed my mouth tightly against any desire to confide what I had seen. It was not for me to tell them their fate.
That day, the kitchens were busy preparing traveling food for Lexander and his crew. He was leaving on another one of his periodic searches for new slaves. I wondered if he would forget about my penance. I hoped so, for it meant he had forgotten my transgression.
But that afternoon, Rosarin summoned me to bring my bucket and brush to clean the floor of the fire hall. With a flinch of distaste, I recalled the muddy streaks left by my feet on the bricks.
When I arrived, Lexander was seated at a grand marble table near the hearth. Nearby were a handful of benches. One low table had a grid painted on it, with carved ivory and hardwood figures standing in the colored squares. Niels had explained that they represented Thorr and the other Norogods, and were used to play hneftaf. Bjorn had been Lexander’s favorite opponent, and I wondered if Niels would take his place now.
On both sides of the closed door leading to the courtyard, the windows were shuttered against the chill spring air. Slanted beams of light with tiny sparkling motes shone through the chinks. I knew that the olfs and spirits could see images caught in such beams. Perhaps they were on the fens right now watching me in this place. What did they think of my choice to leave them? I wondered if they missed me or if they could feel my presence even far away.
Lexander’s table was lit by the fire and a shining glass lamp hanging from a pole. I approached and bobbed down in deference as Helanas had taught me, my back straight and head held high with eyes downcast. I noticed the double doors to outside were unbarred today, with the iron-bound crossbar leaning against the wall.
“You will clean the floor, Marja,” Lexander ordered without glancing up. He held a quill and was writing on yellow parchment before him. I didn’t recognize the runes he made.
I went to the spot where I had knelt the night before. The cushions on the bench were still impressed with marks where his body had reclined. I quickly washed the red mud from the bricks, letting the water flow into the cracks before polishing them with the long cloth tucked at my waist. There were a few footprints leading up the steps and into the main hall, so I washed those as well.
When I finished, I tried to escape quietly, but Lexander raised his head. “You will put the bucket away and come here.”
The penance! I tucked the bucket and cloth out of sight beside the steps, a trick of neatness I had learned from the other slaves. Then I returned and began to kneel.
“You will take the pedestal.” Lexander gestured to the closest window. In front was a low, round pedestal, barely two hands high.
I stepped up and turned around. Pedestals were scattered about in the halls and gardens, looking very much like the bases of the marble columns in the courtyard. Helanas often ordered us to pose on the pedestals when we had nothing to do.
“You will remove your tunic.” Lexander stared at me briefly, as if I should have remembered, before resuming his writing.
I unbuckled the enameled bronze clasp on my red leather belt and let it fall behind the pedestal. In the warmth of the haushold it wasn’t needful to wear anything more than my short tunic. It was white with long, tapered sleeves. The wool was woven with a narrow gold tabard around the edges at my neck, wrists, and the hem at my thighs. As I had seen the other slaves do, I pulled the scarlet silk tie from my hair, letting it fall unbound. I wore only the bronze twisted neck ring at the base of my throat and the wide metal bracelet I had chosen that morning from the cask of jewelry shared by
the slaves. I had seen how the ornaments made the other slaves appear more naked.
For a moment I stood there awkwardly, until I remembered one of Helanas’ poses—bojakna. I bent one knee to the front and held my arms curving downward to graze my thighs in front and back. It was one of the more demure poses and called for a slightly tilted head, gazing off and down to one side. The narrow sunbeams passed around me and hit the floor, casting an elongated shadow of my form. Any olf or spirit who cared to look would surely see me now.
The scratch of the stilo was all that I heard. I settled into the pose thinking it was a pleasant penance. The fire kept me from shivering, yet my nipples tightened at being displayed before my master. More than ever before, I felt what it meant to belong to Lexander.
Then came a knock on the outer doors, which pushed open at Lexander’s summons. I startled in surprise and briefly lost my pose. Lexander said, “Marja!” with quiet reproach. I remembered my actions would reflect on Vidaris.
Through the doors strode two men shrouded in sea cloaks. At first I thought they were freemen from Vidaris, but as they unwrapped they both hailed Lexander as equals. My master went forward to greet them. Sverker and Ansgar arrived at the bell to fetch their boxes. I could tell by the rich cut of their clothes that they must be magnates, leaders of a village or a tract of homesteads.
I resumed my pose, and they turned to gaze at me as if I were a living statue. “A new one?” one of the men asked with a laugh. More sly comments were passed, but Lexander actually smiled and encouraged their speculation.
I trembled and blushed till my skin fair burned with it. Every low laugh, every knowing remark only half heard, made it near impossible for me to hold the pose. And Lexander knew it. He had devised this penance because my weakness was modesty. As I struggled to obey him, he didn’t even deign to glance my way.
A small bag of coins passed from Lexander to the elder man with white hair and a deeply lined face. The younger magnate made a crude comment that I couldn’t understand, but I nevertheless knew it was about me.
Lexander laughed out loud, and I almost broke my pose at the unfamiliar sound. “Your favorite, Rosarin, is still here, if you want her. This one may be too shy for your tastes.”
I was suddenly afraid that I would be sold for my disobedience. The younger magnate approached me, thick in chest with bowed-out legs that seemed too short for his stout body. His beard was black, as was the hair straggling over his skull and on his chest.
Lexander called after him, “Feel free to touch her. She has lovely skin. Would that all of them were so fine.”
“Fair little one, aren’t you?” the magnate asked as he leered at me. I felt his rough hands on my breasts and grabbing my waist. His fingers pinched my nipple as if he delighted in seeing me tremble and start under his hands. I tried to hold still, as I tried not to flinch under the crop when Helanas trained us every morning.
His hands slid down to my legs, and his fingers pressed into the soft hair at my groin. My legs were tightly locked together. Even so, my muscles eased under his touch. But he was impatient and his hands slid around my buttocks to assail me from the rear. I knew in that moment—I wanted to please him. My lustful tension had been building since coming to Vidaris, and for a moment I could imagine taking my pleasure with this crude magnate. Anything to slake my desire, to let me shudder in release . . .
Then the older man impatiently called him away. “Do your sporting in your own chamber, svin!”
The young magnate lingered to give me a sharp smack on my buttocks. I let out a yelp. He left a fierce burning brand of his hand that I knew would leave a red mark for the rest of the day. He guffawed as he returned to Lexander, loudly complimenting him on his stock.
I could hardly see as they followed Sverker into the courtyard to the guest chamber. They would be staying at the haushold. I wondered if the greasy magnate would touch me again, and a rush of emotions overwhelmed me—shame, excitement, outrage, weakness, desire . . .
Lexander barred the outer door, then crossed the hall to the inner courtyard. My anxiety eased at his casual words, “Well done, Marja. You pleased him.”
I longed to break my pose to rub my smarting buttock, but didn’t dare. “I tried to please you,” I admitted hoarsely.
Lexander paused, hearing more in my words than I had intended to say. He came closer, examining me. I swayed in the pose. His palm gently smoothed my hip, watching me gasp at the sensation that ripped through me.
“Is it true?” Lexander murmured to himself. His hand quested between my legs, and at his gentle pressure, my thighs eased open. He felt the moisture that flowed from me. With a brush of his finger, I gasped again.
“You’re a true submissive,” Lexander whispered. There was a yearning note I had not heard before. “You’ll do anything for me if only I play your body and emotions.”
I breathed a sigh of acceptance, finally leaning into him. I had never felt such a response before. But then I had always had sex as a bird does—a quick tumble on the grass that left both of us chattering and flying off on our own. I had never felt a touch like Lexander’s.
“I can use you as you deserve,” he whispered into my hair. With urgent hands he pulled me from the pedestal and pushed me over the marble table. His boots spread my feet apart, and quickly he took me. It was not too soon to suit me. I remembered Helanas’ drills as I lifted my hips for him. I wanted his passion. I wanted him to lose control and clutch me closer . . . as I writhed in ecstasy beneath him—
“Well, well,” Helanas drawled from across the hall. “Toying with the new girl, are you, Lexander?”
Lexander didn’t pause in his thrusting. If anything, he moved more slowly and deliberately, looking at Helanas the entire time. I felt a blush of humiliation pierce my heart, but as Lexander discovered, I also felt a corresponding rise in excitement.
“You want it,” he muttered loud enough for Helanas to hear. “Admit it.”
“Yes!” I gasped.
He finally strained and spent himself inside of me to Helanas’ slow applause. “Nicely done! Aren’t you glad I was here so you had an audience? It would have been so much more boring alone.”
Lexander seemed unconcerned by her teasing, but I couldn’t bear to raise my eyes. I was limp across the table, but when he released me, I rushed to my tunic and pulled it on. My hands fumbled at the belt before it hooked. Then I knelt with my head bent, back on my heels in abject surrender—gesig—awaiting an order to go.
Helanas was laughing meanly. “My stars . . . what a pretty picture. I see you’re going to dote on this one.”
“You could never truly appreciate her, Helanas. Stick to what you know—sulky peasants you can break. I’ll make her sing at a touch.”
“I will do what I wish with her!” His taunt seemed to inflame Helanas. She stamped her boot against the floor in irritation. “I won’t allow you to spoil every slave that enters Vidaris. This one will be disciplined until she is nothing but dirt beneath my feet.”
Helanas swept away while I held myself in the pose by force of will. With my juices still smearing my legs, throbbing with desire for more, I knew it was true. I wanted what Lexander did to me.
Lexander left without looking at me. It was a long time before I gathered myself together to fetch the bucket and continue with my duties.
Three
Barely a moon had passed when Vidaris was invited to the annual midsummer celebration by the chieftain of Markland. We were finishing the morning’s drill in the slave hall, sheltering from a squall, when Helanas made the announcement. We were now a group of eight, but I believe we were all more comfortable with fewer numbers. I had made my first tentative overtures to Ansgar and Rosarin, but was hesitant to truly befriend them after Lexander’s advice to remain aloof.
“We will depart for Markland in two days.” Helanas looked down her nose. “We will be taking four pleasure slaves to spread the fame of Vidaris. Sverker, Ansgar, Rosarin, and . . . Marja.” Her
mouth twitched in reluctance. I caught it only because I was watching her through my lashes, never expecting she would name me.
Niels’ eyes went round with awe, while the two sisters moved together slightly. Kinirniq looked relieved. The scrawny male Skraeling didn’t take to the training as the rest of us did. There were whispered stories, only half told, of how Kinirniq had tried to run away from Vidaris twice last summer. The second time, Helanas hadn’t merely punished him; she had broken his spirit. It was evident in his plodding steps and his perpetually downcast eyes. It was one of the cruelest things I had seen in Vidaris, a place where not much kindness was to be found.
Helanas strolled over and slapped my face hard. I bowed my head, realizing I had been gaping at her openmouthed. I held the proper pose for surrender until Helanas swept from the hall, the heels of her boots thumping in irritation. I was learning to tell my mistress’s mood by her feet, restless when agitated and whisper-quiet when she was content.
“A feast at midsummer is a great display of extravagance,” Niels hissed enviously behind me. He would have known how to act in the company of a chieftain. “Fortune smiles on you.”
“Mayhap,” Sverker retorted direly. “We will be at everyone’s whim.”
Serious Rosarin agreed. “We must excel. Woe to those who cast a shadow on the name of Vidaris.”
I quailed at her pronouncement of geasa. A god or guardian spirit could take offense if a geasa was broken, and could lash out at us. I feared drawing the attention of Issitoq, the punisher of taboo breakers. People sickened and even died for crossing a taboo. I would have to watch carefully to see the signs that would show me safe passage. I, who was so secure on the fens, felt as if I were standing on shifting ground.
Yet I didn’t envy my peers—Niels and the Skraeling sisters—because they would be safe in Vidaris. I danced with delight at the prospect of leaving as I helped the servants prepare. Our finest garments were folded and packed, along with plenty of blankets, linens, and tableware for our use. The hold of the longship was stacked with the chests and casks of good Viinland wine, pressed from grapes grown and aged on the estate. There was also a copper-bound coffer that contained costly ornaments to decorate ourselves.
