Slave Girl: Chapter 20 (Patreon)

We had left the city and were back onto the open road within the hour.  I walk with renewed purpose and Rosa couldn’t help but notice.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Sure I am.”  I say.  “What’s there to there to be glum about?  Like I said, this is a good day.”

“Well I’ll certainly be happier when we’re warm and snug under the blanket.”  She says.  “I hope we can find a place out of the rain.”

At the mention of being under the blanket carnal memories of the night before come flooding into my mind.  Not recollections of thoughts or ideas but of raw sensations.  Skin against skin.  Warm bodies.  Hands touching me.  The smell of a woman.  The softness of her hair.  The sound of a heartbeat.

“Rosa.  Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you ever…”  I say softly.  “Do you…ever wish you weren’t…the way you are?”

“An Amazon?”

“Yeah.”

“When I was little I would fantasize about it.  But no, I am who I am.”

“But…”  I try to think of a proper way to say the things I wanted to say.

“Go on.”

“But, don’t you just want curse the gods?  Denying you a happy life.  A normal life.  Denying you freedom.  Taking away the chance to find a husband.  Denying you a chance to bear children.  How can you accept that?  It seems…cruel.”

There is a moment’s silence as she weighs her answer.  “Did the gods do all that?  I’ve never met a god, not that I know of.  I’ve seen people.  Lots of people.  People with hate in their hearts and fear clouding their mind.  People who write unjust laws.  People who blame others for their own ills.  I’m not so sure what you’re talking about is the work of the gods.”

“But…it’s a curse.  Everyone knows that.”

“A whole race of cursed people?”  She shakes her head.  “That doesn’t make sense to me.  I’ve spoken to people who have been to Themiscyra.  They said it was much the same as it is here.  They work, they worship, they love their families, all the same as us.”

“But…they’re savages!  They capture women.  They kill or enslave any man who enters their realm.”

“You don’t say.”  She holds up her branded hand to look down at the rose that scarred her flesh. 

“But that’s…different.”  My voice fades.  “Isn’t it?”

“Is it?  Listen.  This is the fate I was given Quin.  It’s mine and I accept that.  Denying it would only fester inside of me and rot my soul.  I’ve seen it happen with people. It is a terrible thing.”  She pats my chest.  “And as to becoming a mother?  I suspect your storybook image of Amazons is incomplete.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

We walk on in silence for a time, the steady pit-a-pat of the rain on stone and leaf gradually getting louder.  With rising concern I look to the North and the dark clouds looming beyond the high hills.  If the rain got any worse we were going to have to find some cover.  But it wasn’t so bad yet, hopefully the worst would miss us.

“May I carry you Rosa?”

She gives my hand a squeeze.  “Not yet.  Soon.”

“Rosa?”

“Yes?”

“I know I’m the master but…I like it…how you let me do things for you.”

“I know.”

Our feet slap along the wet stone as I summon the courage to speak again.  “I liked rubbing your feet.  I like carrying you.  I like…when you…tell me what to do.  But…I don’t understand why.”

“Why does there have to be a why?”  

My voice hushed I confess.  “I like how you held me down the other night.  Is that bad?”

“No, it’s not bad.”  I give her a quick glance to see she is smiling.  

“You said…you said other men like those things?”

“Yes.”  She answers.  “It’s not so unusual, just nobody talks about it.  And I like those things too Quin.”

There it was.  The switch from ‘Master’ to ‘Quin’.  Despite the cold wet weather a hot desire warmed me from within.  “I…I enjoyed lying with you.”

“Mmm, that was nice.  Wasn’t it?”

“I…I like the things we did.”

“Oh?  What things?”

I swallow as my cheeks burn with blush.  “It’s hard to talk about.”

“Take your time.”

Before I could think of a response the wind suddenly whips up into stiff gusts that buffet us from the left.  Soon after comes a roll of distant thunder.  The dark sky was becoming downright menacing.  It was clear now that a storm was heading our way, and fast!

“Shit.”  I say, looking to the North.  “I was hoping that would blow past us.  Boreas has other plans.  We have to find shelter.”  I scan the patchy blotches of foliage high up on the hills around us, they wouldn’t be much use.  The floor of the valley itself was dominated by flat fields of grain and rows of orchard crops.  There were no caves in the hills that I could see and it had been over an hour since we passed a bridge we might hide under.  There weren’t even any villas or traveler camps visible.  “Shit!”

“Eeee!”  Rosa squeaks as a hard gust slams into us, knocking her back a step and forcing her capelet to flap out behind her.  Grabbing it she pulls it back around her body and holds it closed with both hands.  “It’s cold!”

I feel a powerful instinct to help her…but how?  There was nothing to be done out here.  We had to keep moving.

“Come on.  Stay close”  I shout as I lean into to the wind and forge my way forward.  Rosa falls in behind me, allowing me to breath the gusts for her.  Squinting against the rain I keep looking for any place that might shield us even a bit from the storm.  

I was starting to lose hope when I spot a grouping of about a dozen small shacks situated between two fields.  “Slave quarters.”  I point.  Without another word we make our way toward the buildings.

The cool wind and rain lashes against me, chilling me deeply.  Normally I would have had my cloak on in this weather but I’d lost that days ago when Rosa made her outfit, an outfit far more suited to summer heat than this.  If I was cold I couldn’t imagine how Rosa must be feeling right now.  Another rumble of thunder.  Not long after we see our first flash of lightning.  My eyes locked on my target I keep going.  As soon as we were off the road the waterlogged earth squelches under my feet like a wet sponge.  Kneeling down I wave Rosa onto my back.  She hops on without argument.  Through ankle deep puddles and sucking mud I stride for the shacks.  I was relieved when we arrived to find the buildings up on a rise with solid earth beneath.  I set Rosa down on the good footing and continue on.

We walk to the first building I could see light coming from and knock on the rough wooden door.  As we await an answer I scrounge up the few coins we had to offer.  The door cracks open and a stout blonde man with a long mustache peers out at us.  On his forehead are branded initials that I am sure were not his own.  Holding out the coins I say loud enough to carry over the wind.  “We are a pair of travelers needing shelter from the storm.  This is all we have to offer.  May we please share your roof tonight?”

The man looks back over his shoulder to others I couldn’t see then back to us.  His fierce blue eyes flits back and forth between my slave and I.

“Master not allow.”  He says with broken Latin in a thick Gaulish accent of some sort.  “Punish.”

“Please!  We have nowhere else.”  I say as a crack of thunder punctuates my point.  “Just until the storm passes.”

He points behind him to the East.  “Master home.  Go there.”

I look to Rosa, soaked and shivering in her roughly made outfit.  I knew I didn’t look much better.  The master of a villa would surely cast out a couple of vagrants like us away.

“Please.”  I say again.  “My slave…she is…”

“Amazon.”  Rosa says.  “They will turn us away.”

A look of understanding comes over him though he was clearly not happy this problem had landed on his doorstep.  The man looks to the dark sky and lets out an annoyed snort.  I could see he didn’t like the idea of turning away people in need.  He ponders a bit more before shaking his head and swearing in his own language.  A hand darts out and nabs the coins from my open hand.  The next moment the door slams shut!

“Hey!”  I pound on the door.

A moment later the door swings open and the man was now in a cloak.  In his hands was a clay lantern that he shielded with the cape of his cloak.  He motions hurried toward another shack situated down at the end of the grouping.  Behind him a dark skinned woman and teenage boy who looked to be their son watch on with curiosity.  Rosa and I nod at them then start toward the building he’d indicated, the man follows close behind.

As we walk we see eyes and faces peeking out from the other shacks to watch us.  The man calls something out so that all could hear then says to us.  “You leave morning.  We not see you.”

“Thank you.”  Both Rosa and I say as one.

We get to the shack and the man continues to motion us forward.  I lift the handle and open it up.  As the man steps in behind us the light from his lamp reveals the dark interior.  It was a single room bare of furniture.  A small clay stove was situated on a terracotta slab in the corner.  It was windowless with untreated wooden planks forming the walls and floor.  It was simple but it was dry, it was clean, and it was all ours.  It might be slave quarters but it was a hell of a lot better than our accommodations the night before, and at a fraction of the price thanks to this man’s mercy.

“This is perfect.”  I say.  “I cannot thank you enough.”

Rosa had immediately moved into one of the corners to get away from the draft of the door and stood shivering hard with her arms wrapped tight.  The man gives her a concerned look then looks at me and nods.  He leaves us in the dark.  I close and latch the door behind him and total darkness descends on the room.  Dropping the pack I feel my way toward my slave.  Her skin is wet and clammy.

“You’re so cold.”

“I’ll b-be ok-kay.”  She chatters.

A roll of thunder shakes the shack.

“I shouldn’t have pushed it so long.  We should have stopped earlier.  Sit down.”  I say.  “I’ll find the blanket.”

“Th-thank you.”  Her small voice trembles.

I feel my way back to where I had set our pack and with only touch to guide me untie the drawstring and begin to rummage.  Everything was damp though thankfully not soaked.  I had just gotten Rosa bundled up when a knock comes to our door.  Praying it isn’t the master checking in on his slaves I follow the sound and open the door.

There stood the man and his family.  In his arms was a big bundle of dry firewood.  Behind him his wife held a steaming pot in one mitted hand and a pair of bowls in the other.  Beside her the son had a metal bucket in each hand, one with glowing coals from their hearth and the other half full of fresh water.  Without waiting to be invited the three of them make their way in.  The coals are deposited into the clay stove and some of the firewood added on top, the rest of the wood set beside.  The pot is placed down in front of Rosa, the woman leaning in to pat my slave’s smooth cheek.

“Thank y-you.”   Rosa smiles back.

“Bless.”  The woman says to her.

I stood speechless.  I turn to the man at a loss as to what to say.

He just grunts.  “Leave, morning.”

“We will.”  I promise him.  “We’ll leave at first light.  Wake us if you need to.”

He nods and says something to me in his native tongue.  With that the slave family files out and hurries back across the common yard holding their cloaks against the pouring rain.  I close the door and latch it again.  I turn to look at Rosa still in disbelief at the family’s generosity.  The wood had quickly begun to burn on the coals casting a warm light.  The smell of a succulent soup filled the room.

Still shivering Rosa looks up at me.  “You w-we’re right.  This is a g-good day.”

Chapter 21