Slave Chappie 3
Ginny glanced past the burly guard opening the door, then gasped as Kayla entered, followed by the women and children of the castle. A counterpoint of sounds echoed off teh walls. Whimpers, wails, and hiccupping sobs of frightened children joined their mothers' comforting voices, blending together in a composition of fear.
"We tried, my Lady. Truly we did," Kayla said.
Ginny nodded her head and blinked her tears away: in that span of a heartbeat she suffered all the impotent anger, and devastating frustration that travel in the wake of conquest. They were truly beaten.
"You will translate my words to them," The warlord ordered.
Ginny stared at the villagers who were herded like sheep into the great room. Their frightened gazes locked with hers, seeking assurance, and pain stabbed her heart.
"I will not translate." She croaked the Norman words out, trying hard to swallow her tears at such a humbling display.
The tall Norman raised an eyebrow at her refusal. "You will not?" He pulled his sword free of its sheath. Ginny drew a deep breath, steeling herself for the blow. At the gesture, a smile of pure contempt crossed his features, and then he pointed the weapon straight at her sister-in-law. "Bring her." Two soldiers grabbed Kayla and hauled her kicking and screaming over to the warlord. Bret chose that moment to run from Lavender to Ginny, clinging to her legs, her stared in terror at the Norman holding a blade to Mary's throat.
"Nay, do not harm her," Ginny shrieked as her gaze pleaded with the warlord for clemency. Searching for and finding no mercy in his eyes, she held his gaze and nodded slightly. "I will speak that which you wish translated." Ginny waited until the warlord replaced his sword, then disentangled Bret's tight grip and picked him up. He wrapped his arms around her neck and hid his face in her tunic.
"The prisoners will kneel and swear fealty to the new lord of the manor, Draco de Malfoy.
The words clogged in her throat, and Ginny closed her eyes, unwilling to watch her people give their allegiance to this Norman. She despaired that her plan failed them so completely.
Still whimpering, Kayla knelt before the warlord and said her vow, then whispered to Ginny, "Pray forgive me."
Ginny struggled to smile encouragingly. "It is all right, Kayla. You did your best." Shamed at seeing her sister on her knees, Ginny turned and faced the warlord. "I will not swear allegiance to you."
"It is not necessary. They are serfs, owing me only partial service, but you...you are a slave, my slave."
"I am no slave, least of all to a Norman master."
"You challenged a Norman in combat. You lost. You are now a slave." His tone was matter-of-fact. She almost hated him more fore his lack of gloating. Though several of her father's favorite cures came to mind, she kept them to herself. Silently praying for guidance, she planted a kiss on her nephew's forehead, then tried to hand him over to her sister-in-law, but he immediately began to fuss. Ginny refused to give in to Bret's beseeching gaze and tearful pleas. He would be safer with Kayla.
"Tell the women to prepare a meal for my men," the Norman warlord commanded. Her tears, smarted from tears and she choked out the order.
The women dispersed immediately, though their furtive glances strayed to their young mistress. Kayla also stared at Ginny; but unlike the serfs, she remained in the middle of the hall, holding Bret and looking helpless and terrified.
"'Tis you sister?" Malfoy asked Ginny as he eyed Mary speculatively.
"Sister-in-law, he husband died three summers ago," Ginny replied, worried that the warlord's contemplation boded ill for her beautiful sister. "You will not harm her," Ginny insisted.
"She is a daughter of this house and as such will be treated with respect."
Ginny almost sagged with relief. She translated the words for Kayla and saw the fear lessen in her eyes.
"Aden, take the Lady Kayla upstairs," Draco commanded. When Kayla cringed at the soldier's advance, Draco added, "Tell her 'tis my brother, Aden. She need not fear any harm from him." The handsome soldier came forward and bowed with courtly grace before Kayla, while Draco restrained Ginny from going to her aid. "Who is the child in her arms?"
"My nephew, Bret, his mother died in child birth and his father was killed in the war last summer with your, King Snape," Ginny said defiantly, knowing he believed Bret to be her son and, therefore, deserving of sharing her fate.
"'Tis a shame you did not surrender, then you would share their status. Since you dared to challenge me, you will remain dressed in squire's clothes so all may see your disgrace."
Ginny raised her chin. "My only regret is that you did not perish by my sword."
"You will have much time to think about your foolishness. You will attend my needs. See to my bath so I may wash this filth away. And, slave, make sure the water is hot; I cannot abide a cold bath. After that, have my belongings placed and stored in the master chambers."
Ginny whirled about and left the main room. Attend my needs. Oh, she would indeed see to his needs, but he might wish she had not. A bath. Fine. She had a few surprises for her Norman warlord.
Ginny hauled the water to the master chamber and heated it in the large kettle over the fire. She looked sadly around the room. It was her sire's and she could not bear the bought of the invader making free with his home. This room above any other was special. Her parents had enjoyed their private moments here. Often Kayla and Ginny had spent the day sewing with their mother by the hearth. She closed her eyes to the memories. That life was over, gone with the advent of this new lord. She hated him.
"Is the bath ready?"
His voice startled her and she nearly dropped the pot of boiling hot water she was carrying. Without a word she poured the last container in the tub and watched with pleasure as the stream rose to the ceiling. Boil, you son of Darkness.