Last Tales of Mercia 8: Audrey the Slave Page 2

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  The next day, she stuck close to the group even though she knew she should not. Perhaps curiosity was to blame. Perhaps part of her wanted the option to escape with them when they made their move, even though she still planned to stay. Or perhaps her fondness for the boys she had worked alongside for so many years drove her to foolishly watch over them. Nonetheless, she stayed with them while they carried rocks up and down the motte, whispering discreetly to each other whenever they could, watching all the guards and waiting for their chance to escape.

  As Audrey made her regular climb up and down the motte, she considered how far the castle had come since she first became a slave. She had watched these walls and buildings develop from the ground up. She had helped carve the spikes of the first palisades, then carried water to the masons who constructed the gatehouse. She had seen the wooden frame of the keep topple thanks to the Outlaw, and witnessed the dramatic transformation of the motte immediately afterwards. Lord Richard had demanded extra security around the motte consisting of another ditch and palisades. Then he focused the efforts of almost all of his laborers to the keep. The large tower now loomed two stories high, its eight buttresses stretching further into the sky for a third level. The stone walls were twelve feet thick at the bottom and decreasingly thinner as they stretched upward. Thus all the more stones to carry.

  On some days, the slaves would stand in a line and pass the stones up to the laborers at the top of the keep. But today, with Lord Richard gone, work was not so organized. Slaves tried to get jobs in other areas, such as thatching roofs or tending animals—anything so they would not have to spend another day carrying rocks. Osbern FitzRichard didn’t seem to notice that the labor grew more disorganized as a result. All he seemed to care about was that the slaves were working, and he paid little heed as to what they worked on or why.

  One way or another, Osbern seemed in a particularly grumpy mood that morning. The nineteen-year-old watched Audrey’s group from the shadows of the keep, holding a stick that he whacked intermittently against the wall. A few times, he whacked it against a laggard slave. His bad leg seemed to be bothering him, for whenever he walked he winced more than usual. But worst of all, he called several times upon the company of Audrey’s least favorite knight.

  Sir Geoffrey had not spent much time at Richard’s castle until recently. Audrey suspected this had something to do with the fact his wife had born a child, according to gossip, and one might easily surmise that the man did not like babies. But many rumors abounded concerning the knight Geoffrey, and Audrey could not help but pay attention, for some of the rumors caused much concern. People said that whoever displeased the knight often “disappeared,” never to be seen or heard from again. Two slaves berated by Lord Richard for unruly behavior had in fact vanished from Richard’s castle in the last few years, both around the time Sir Geoffrey had come to visit. He had scraggly yellow hair that wisped around his gaunt face and golden eyes that reminded her of a cat on the prowl.

  Eventually Audrey noticed Rodgar’s boys gathering near the west of the keep, where they would dare to escape down the highest, steepest ditch in the entire castle. Gimm carried a large sack on his shoulder. She wondered how the boy had enough possessions to make the bag sag with so much weight. Rodgar had not yet joined them, but the boys looked around as if expecting him to show up at any moment. Rodgar must be waiting for his chance to knock out Osbern with a stone. Did he know about Geoffrey?

  Her heart in her throat, Audrey tried to make her way back to the two Normans lingering in the shade of the keep. She did not find Rodgar, but she remained anyway. She thought she might as well eavesdrop on the two men and see what they were up to.

  “I am so bored,” Osbern said to the knight.

  “Then find something that sustains your attention,” said Geoffrey, “and pursue it.” His voice had a slow, drawling quality that made Audrey’s hair stand on end.

  “Father doesn’t want me to spar with anyone while he’s gone. I suppose he doesn’t want me to hurt someone on accident. But people should realize that’s just a risk of playing swords. And if it wasn’t, what would be the point?”

  “I agree, Suzerain.”

  A note of hopefulness entered Osbern’s voice. “Geoffrey, perhaps you and I could play something together. Do you like chess?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Oh.” Osbern’s disappointment was obvious, even to Audrey, who stood at a distance.

  “Perhaps someone else could play with you, Suzerain.”

  “I don’t think so.” Osbern whacked his stick against the wall loudly enough to make Audrey flinch. Nonetheless, she remained crouched around the corner of the keep, listening with helpless fascination.

  After taking a moment to overcome his anger, Osbern spoke again. “What sort of things do you do with your friends, Geoffrey?”

  “Friends?” Geoffrey’s normally monotonous voice now had an edge to it.

  “Yes, well, you know what I mean.”

  “I’m afraid I do not, Suzerain.”

  Audrey could not help herself. She crept closer. She wanted to see the looks on their faces. But as soon as she did, she noticed Geoffrey staring back at her.

  Audrey’s stomach seemed to drop to her toes. Her legs wanted to melt and leave her in a helpless puddle. But she mustered all her courage and remained standing, staring back at him. She thought this was a good idea until she realized that the longer she stared at Geoffrey, the more intense his gaze became. So she switched her focus to Osbern.

  “Forgive me, my lord.” She failed to hide the wavering of her voice. “I just wanted to know if … if … if you’d like some sort of refreshment.”

  Osbern blinked with surprise. He had a strange face, rather large and bony in its features, but relatively proportionate. If his thick lips weren’t always frowning or his big eyes always glaring, he might actually look handsome. For one fleeting moment, his scowl dropped away and revealed that other side of him. “I … well … I suppose I could use some fresh water.” He came forward and handed her his horn. As Audrey took it, Osbern’s brown eyes sparked with the slightest hint of cheer. “What about you, Geoffrey?”

  “I am well, thank you.”

  Audrey bowed her head, but couldn’t help noticing that the knight’s eyes remained on her, unmoving.

  She should have walked away. She should have let events play out as her friends ordained. But she could not stand by and do nothing while her friends got themselves killed—for now she felt certain that was exactly what would happen. Earlier, she had thought she might lure Geoffrey away from Osbern and thereby help her friends with their asinine mission. But now she wondered if the knight had already guessed that something was amiss. She felt as if he could see straight through her, from the quivering of her knees to the racing of her thoughts.

  Her friends would get caught trying to escape today. She sensed it deep in her gut, as clearly as she might see a storm approaching on the horizon. If one of the knights like Sir Ralph or Sir Fulbert had been in charge today, the risk of a scuffle or arrow-wound might have been worth the reward. But with a man like Geoffrey on watch, her friends would pay with their lives. She knew enough about Geoffrey to predict that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill a single one of them. Or even worse, they might just “vanish,” and their families would spend the rest of their lives wondering what had happened to them.

  She felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to betray her friends. But she wondered if a small treachery might save their lives, in the end. Any victory had been forfeited the moment Geoffrey looked at her and she stared back defiantly. Perhaps that was her fault. She had put him on the alert. So at least she might stop the worst from happening; perhaps she could stop her friends before they broke any rules at all.

  Before she walked away, she willed herself to speak. “There’s a … a group of boys taking a break on the berm of the motte. They don’t mean any harm, you know. But I thought maybe you sh
ould tell them to get back to work, before they get too comfortable.”

  Osbern looked back at her with a strange expression. He seemed once again on the verge of gratefulness, but he didn’t know how to express it. “Thank you, uh, for letting me know. As you should. Back to work, then.”

  Audrey’s hands didn’t stop shaking until she had walked across the bailey to the nearest bucket of water and dipped Osbern’s horn in it. Even though she now stood on the other side of the bailey, far away from Osbern and his knight, she could still sense Geoffrey’s gaze on her like a cold wind snaking beneath her clothes. She hoped she had done the right thing. She hoped her friends would only have to pay for taking a long recess rather than attempting to run away.

  “Audrey.”

  Audrey started and turned to see Rodgar staring down at her. She took a deep breath of relief. If Rodgar was still here, he had not yet attempted to bash Osbern in the head. Which meant Osbern could break up the group before anything bad might happen. “Rodgar.” She straightened and turned to walk back to the motte.

  “What’s that?” He stared with disgust at the finely polished horn in her hands.

  “I’m getting water for Osbern.”

  “Give it here. Let me piss in it.”

  “Fuck off, Rodgar.”

  He managed to grab the horn before she could dodge him. He spit a thick wad into the water. Audrey groaned with disgust. “What do you want from me?” she cried.

  “I want you to escape with us. Please, Audrey. I know you’re scared of the world outside these walls. But it’s better than the hell in here, I promise you.”

  “I never said I’m scared.” She stopped to glare at him, but the desperation in his eyes caught her by surprise. She wondered if she should tell him that it was already too late to escape. But the way his gaze searched for hope wrenched her heart.

  “We could go to a new town, somewhere no one will find us. We can use the skills we’ve gained here to get jobs. Real jobs, where we’re paid real coin for our labor.” A pink wave suffused his cheeks. “You’re a girl. It might be even easier for you to find … something, if you really needed to.”

  “You rotten fucking scoundrel!” She shoved him, hard enough to make him stagger. But he recovered all too quickly.

  “I’m serious, Audrey. Our lives might be difficult. But at least they would be our lives.”

  “And what would be the point of them?” Her own question surprised her. Lives were lives. They shouldn’t need to have a point. And yet as she considered why she asked it, she approached a disturbing revelation. So long as she stayed here, working on this castle, she knew that her life had a purpose. She knew her role in the world, however miserable. She knew that her labor contributed something greater than herself. And as much as she hated lugging stones, she knew that one day, this castle would be finished and that would partially be her doing.

  And that’s why she hadn’t really wanted to escape.

  Outside of Richard’s castle, what purpose would she serve? What role would she play? The task of surviving, and surviving alone, did not satisfy her. How could she explain that to Rodgar? How could she explain that until she found out what she would live for outside of this castle, she might as well stay here forever?

  A loud yell from the top of the motte saved her from trying to explain herself. Audrey and Rodgar didn’t hesitate. They turned and ran towards the sound.

  At the base of the keep, Audrey was initially relieved to find all the boys still standing near the berm. None of them had tried to escape yet. No severe punishments could be made. But her dismay returned when she saw Osbern struggling with Gimm, the one who had yelled, while Geoffrey stood nearby. The knight held the same sack in his hands that Audrey had seen slung over Gimm’s shoulder. Geoffrey reached in and pulled out a piece of bread, then a pouch of liquid.

  “Food and spirits, Suzerain.” Geoffrey pulled out the stop of the pouch and sniffed its contents. “Some of our finest.”

  Osbern roared with anger as he shoved Gimm into the dirt. Gimm landed on his stomach, his breath catching short as the wind was knocked out of him. Osbern pressed his knee into Gimm’s spine while struggling to hold Gimm’s thrashing arms.

  “So you’re not just lazy,” snarled Osbern. “You’re a thief!” He struck Gimm in the back of the head. Gimm’s eyes glazed over slightly and his arms went limp.

  Audrey’s heart sank. She had not realized that Gimm’s bag had been stuffed with stolen goods, but she should have deduced as much. The boys would need to feed themselves, and how else to do that but steal? The fact that Gimm had been the one to take the food was the saddest aspect of it all, for of course he would be the one to consider how everyone might go hungry once they escaped, and he would be bold enough to ensure their future comfort. In the end, his thoughtfulness and compassion condemned him.

  Osbern put his hand on his knife, but his face twisted with uncertainty. He turned to look at Geoffrey. “What do you suggest I do with a thief, Geoffrey?”

  Geoffrey stood very, very still. Only his chest moved, for he breathed somewhat heavily. Audrey could not read his expression at all. “Your father would want a trial. Is that what you want?”

  “Those insufferable charades? I don’t think so.”

  The slightest smile touched Geoffrey’s mouth. “Then take something from him, as he took something from you.”

  Osbern’s eyes darkened. He unsheathed his knife. Then he stuck out one boot and pressed it against Gimm’s arm. The boy was still conscious, but he was dizzy and weak, his struggles half-hearted. He could not yet see that Osbern’s blade approached his fingers.

  “My lord, please!” The words came out of Audrey’s mouth before she could stop them. She should have known better. Arguing against Osbern would only make him more determined. “You got the food back. Besides, he needs his fingers if he’s to work on the castle!”

  Osbern hesitated. “That’s true.”

  Gimm, who now realized the gravity of his predicament, increased his struggles. Osbern grabbed his hair and wrenched his head upwards, then spoke to Geoffrey. “Help me hold him.” As Geoffrey got into position, Osbern put his dagger against Gimm’s ear.

  “Let this be a lesson to all of you,” he said, and then began sawing.

  As Gimm’s screams split the air, Audrey wanted nothing more than to run away and hide. But she knew that would be wrong. She needed to be here with Gimm and suffer alongside him. Most importantly, she needed to accept the grim reality of her existence here. She and her friends were slaves. Nothing more. And even years of unpaid labor did not entitle them to a single sack of food.

  Blood poured. Gimm’s face contorted with agony. Osbern’s jaw set with grim determination as he struggled to cut through flesh. But no image would linger in Audrey’s mind longer than the gaze of Geoffrey, whose eyes watched it all happen with a gleam of pure euphoria.

  When it was over, Osbern tossed the ear over the edge of the berm. He withdrew and wiped sweat from his brow. Audrey noticed that his hands shook and a snarl of disgust lingered on his face. At the very least, he had not enjoyed Gimm’s punishment as much as Geoffrey. Obsern staggered over to Audrey, held out his bloody hand, and demanded, “Water.”

  Somehow, Audrey had remained clutching Osbern’s horn this entire time, her fingers growing white around its ridges. She remembered how Rodgar had spat in it. Then she gladly handed it over.