Wrists bled as the ship cut through the waves like a sword through tender flesh.
The women who surrounded me had stopped praying to God through their tears and fear. Many of us have been raped repeatedly, and a few of us died, some by biting their own wrists, others from the bitter cold. These beasts of men who had captured us would throw the dead overboard without any ceremony. No Last Rights were given, dooming the captured women and men's souls to, at the very best, purgatory.
Stories have been told of these men coming and reaping our homes for any pleasures they could find themselves tempted by. Monsters with horns coming from their heads and all the seven wraths from hell unleashing themselves, speaking in Satan's tongue, and openly raping good Christians. If God had any pity on his children he would strike this ship down to the deep depths. Shame, Our Lord seems to be a terribly strict father persistent in his punishments.
A large man with eyes of a deep steel blue stared at me, if not through me. His expression held no regard for the lives that surrounded him and it seemed he was terribly lost in thought. I suppose that we all were. Few ever spoke, except for another one of the beastly giants: who, when he wasn't on a rowing shift, gave long monologues in their serpent like tongue.
When we touched land once more we were pulled by a loose noose around our necks guided like horses, animals dumb enough to not be an equal yet holding enough intelligence to follow orders. Our names that we once held were lost to the sea. All of us were now 'Thrall'.
Truly they are demons from hell unleashing the punishments promised to us and our ancestors for our sins. For this I am not sure if I should hate them for what they brought upon us, or simply accept that this is the result of our rule breaking.
We all stood in a row looking either straight ahead or down to our bloodied feet as women hugged and kissed the returning men or cried when a loved one didn't seem to be in the masses. Laughter of children filled the streets, excitement and wonder filling their faces as they looked at us and our once belongings. A girl further down the line cried silently as an old unattractive man led her by the neck after I could only imagine was a transaction through word rather than coin with a dark haired man from the raide.
"Our Father, Thou art in Heaven…" A middle aged man beside me started praying. I glanced at him piteously before turning my attention before me again.
"I don't think God can hear us from here." I spoke to him as he continued praying. "Whatever follows us is a test for us from Our Lord." The man sobbed in mid prayer. "Perseverance is our only choice." The man nodded lip quivering like a frightened child's.
It seemed hours had passed and the line grew fewer and fewer, the man who was once next to me was taken by a bear of a man sometime ago. Now only three of us remained. On my left a beautiful yet frail looking woman with auburn locks framing her high features and on my right an ex-prostitute with thick long blonde hair and cat like eyes. It seemed we were the bottom of the barrel.
A child with dark eyes and a bright smile came to me and for the first time in weeks saw that with in this flesh held a soul. The child looked over her shoulder and called out to a man I could only assume was her father. He had the same dark blue tint to his eyes and his smile held the same brightness to it. The girl pointed at me speaking rapidly to the man. His attention then turned to me investigating his possible purchase. Without the smile on his face he was certainly intimidating. While his eyes were dark like sapphire, his hair which was braided back, was like rich earth making his already pale skin seem even more so. His beard was long and tied into sections with colored leather strips.
He spoke to the man in charge of the transactions, perhaps inquiring after my price. It seemed he struck a deal since the young girl now held the end of my leash and gently pulled me along the road while she walked next to her father. My body ached and burned with all the fires of Hell. The smell of smoke from open pitted fires wafted into my nostrils carrying light hints of meat. My mouth watered. All I had eaten for the past few weeks were horrible rations, I had never killed another over a meal, but I have seen it before. Now that I am one of the less fortunate would I be able to do the same thing? I was hoping I'd never had to find out.
Walking into the west for the rest of the day we came to a rather large home surrounded by crops and animals. Inside the large house was a fire pit long enough to fit two grown men heating the structure and fine furs lining chairs and walls. It seemed quite grand with all of it's primitive splendor. A tall plain woman came towards us joyfully, and greeted both the child and man joyfully. She then looked at me with pleasure, pinching parts of me determining the amount of muscle I had.
With a mischievous look she grinned at the man spoke to him in such a way that made him laugh before picking the child up by the waste as if she were a plank causing her to squeal in delight.
"Komma," She said to me as she lightly tugged on my leash and I followed her back outside. She spoke to me in an elegant rush of their language, common syllables she spoke were 'Du' and 'En', but other than that I hadn't the slightest.
"I'm sorry." I finally said. "But I don't understand." Her lips pursed and she shook her head before continuing to speak. Eventually we stopped at a stable and she took the leash off of me. Again she spoke, but it was only a single word. "Somna," She laid her head onto hands and shut her eyes as if she were sleeping then pointed to a large pile of hay sitting in the corner. Without hesitation I sat down on the pile, eyes heavy from exhaustion. It didn't take long for me to be taken over by sleep.
The smell of food wafted into my nose the next morning as I was being shaken awake quite violently by the young girl who picked me out the day before. The girl handed me a wooden cup and plate, the latter having bread on it and the former holding a raw egg. She gathered her fingertips together and motioned it towards an open mouth. I gathered she was informing me that this was my breakfast. "Äta"
I copied her motion before repeating, "Ata." The girl shook her head and tried again.
"Äta. ÄÄta. Icke ata." I tried once more before the girl gave up and I resigned myself to eating my food. Though the meal would be enough to get me by, my stomach protested greatly at the lack of food.
I couldn't tell you about the seasons in this odd place, but if I had to guess I would say it was early spring, not too early for the ground to still be frozen but still cold enough for there to be a nip in the air.
My feet still bled and were probably home to quite a few nasty infections by now. Each step was agonizing, but I feared that not reporting to my master as soon as possible would result in far worse.
I got to the main house and saw the girl standing with her mother learning how to master a loom. The sight was precious. There she was holding the comb while her mother weaved the needle through the taut strings, explaining enthusiastically. I stood watching them, in a bitter-sweet moment. It seems no matter where you go a mother will always be teaching her daughter.
"Pardon," I say as I bow my head. Both mother and child turn around and smile my way. The mother waves me over and we continue making rough spun fabrics and yarn. We then moved back outside and walked until we reach a small river to move on to the next project of catching fish with a spear which we would later dry out in the sun for rations later on. As the day continued more chores were done mostly explained purely through example.
I hadn't seen my master until mid afternoon when he brought some more prey home, more meat was butchered then dried and skin had started its curing process. A good chunk of the venison however ended up being our main dish for dinner. After the family was finished with their meal I took the plates and cleaned them before I hobbled back to the river to clean and bind my feet.
It wasn't until my feet had been soaking in the freezing water for a while that I heard movement behind me and saw my master. His eyes, though fierce, held a gentle light under the moonlit sky. He stalked up to my seat on a moss covered boulder and stood directly behind me, moved my hair over my shoulder and then touched my neck with a calloused hand and I froze.
My heart beat rapidly as I sat stiff as a board while his hand grazed down my neck over my shoulder and onto my breast. The scruff of his beard scratched at my skin as his lips, teeth, and tongue all came into contact with the nape of neck. I learned quickly that fighting gets you nothing other than a split lip and a black eye, so in the dead of the night with only the moon as our company I let my master do as he pleased with me despite the pain of him ripping and bruising my insides and gravel sticking into my skin. Tears stung my eyes throughout most of it, the humiliation I felt, though not as bad as the first several times, was nigh to unbearable. He climaxed with a grunt, rubbed my bare back with an open hand as if to say 'Good girl', dressed, and then left. I pressed dirty palms into my closed eyes so hard that I saw globs of white on the back of my eyelids. Breathing a sob, water fell from my eyes.
I knew that this was my new life. I also knew that it was all just a test from God. What I didn't know was just how cruel Our Father was, and just to what extent he goes to prove the fidelity of his children.