Liana

The warrior lord was glad to be in sight of town when a disturbance nearby distracted him.  A few of the women washing clothes at the river were shouting and pelting something with stones and clumps of mud. 

“See what’s going on there,” he ordered his lieutenant.  “The rest of you continue to town,” he addressed his soldiers. He stayed behind to see what his lieutenant discovered.

As they heard the horse approach, the women backed away from the object of their pelting, and William could see it was another woman.  He would see this first hand, and trotted closer to the spot.  He listened while Thomas questioned the women, who seemed to have no excuse for their behavior, and sent them back to their washing.

William dismounted and strode to the muddied and bruised one, who looked no more than a girl.  She was still kneeling at the water’s edge, having never stopped her work but now trying to remove the mud that had spattered onto the previously cleaned laundry. 

“Stand up.  Who are you?”  he demanded.

The Warrior Lord! the girl thought to herself, recognizing his voice.  What could he want with her?  Had she done something wrong?  Surely he was not here to defend one lone slave being bullied by other slaves and servants.  She was too lowly to deserve such attention.

“She does not speak our language,” Thomas answered for her.  She had stood and turned at last when the lord addressed her, understanding the tone of the command, if not the words, but she said nothing, only stared at her bare feet. 

"I’ve seen her before,” Thomas continued.  “She is a slave, and the others pick on her from time to time, but I don’t know why.  I’ve heard reports of it before but did not think it of sufficient importance to bring the matter to you.  As far as I can determine, she does nothing to provoke them, and doesn’t even defend herself.  She does not complain, nor does her master.”

While he pondered this, William saw a man approaching from the town gate.  He recognized the slave master, an unsavory character, as such always seemed to be.  When he was near, the man bowed slightly to William but did not stop until he reached the woman, and used hand signs to indicate she should pick up the unfinished wash and return with him.  He bowed wordlessly again to William and started off without another look at the girl. 

“Stop!” commanded William.  “Have you nothing to say about this?  Do you not care that your ‘property’ has been damaged?  Do you not wish restitution?  Something?”

The man turned and shrugged.  “She is already damaged goods, Lord.  I am unable to sell her, so I make what use of her I can to earn her keep.  Otherwise, whatever happens to her matters not to me.”

William became outraged at what other “use” besides as a laundress the scum might make of the girl.  “You don’t mean you bed her, do you?” he asked ominously.  Although it was a common practice, William heartily disapproved of it, and of slavery in general.

The slave master grimaced.  “Certainly not!  When I can take any girl I please, why would I want this one?  May I go now?”

“No, another moment.  What do you want for her, damaged as she is?”

“Why, Lord, I thought you did not care for the trade?”

“I do not.  I shall free her and she may work in my household or go her own way, whichever she pleases.  At least she will not have to suffer this treatment any longer.” 

“Very well, Lord.  Her price is five gold.”

“You said she was damaged.  I may not deal in slaves, but I know a fair price.  If you can’t sell her, and have to support her, perhaps you would be better off in the long run if you paid me a fee to take her off your hands.”

“Milord makes his point.  Two gold, then.  It’s just as well.  I start tomorrow for another trip and hesitated to leave her alone anyway.”

William was already picking through his coin pouch to find the gold pieces, which he tossed reluctantly to the slaver.  He hated the thought that the man would profit from this.

“Now that the girl is mine, you will be taking that basket of laundry back yourself.”  William grinned inwardly at the disbelief on the slave master’s face.  “And before you go, tell me why the others persecute her.”

“I have never cared to find out.  One of them came from the same village.  Perhaps you should ask her,” the slaver replied with a shrug as he struggled to lift the basket of wet clothing.  The almost surly manner in which he spoke to the warrior would normally have gotten him a reprimand, if not an outright punishment.  Instead, William took further delight in the slaver’s obvious discomposure at being forced to carry his own laundry in front of others.

William instructed Thomas to seek out the other village girl and take her to the military quarters for questioning.  As Thomas left, William took a more careful look at the abused woman, who still had not looked up from the ground.  Her hair was dirty and tangled and hid her downcast face.  The thin shift she wore was bedraggled and too large for her, cinched with a piece of rope.  After what she had just gone through, William thought she would be in no condition to walk, deciding to put her up on his horse.  Although he knew she wouldn’t understand him, he told her what he was going to do.  He figured that speaking to her would give her a clue that something was about to happen, even if she didn’t know exactly what. Placing his hands at her waist, he hoisted her up into his saddle.  “Why, she’s as light as a feather!” he exclaimed to himself.  “I can feel every rib!”

He took the horse’s reins and walked it to the walled town.  As he went, he made a mental checklist – he would have his housekeeper, Maeve, get the girl cleaned up and fed, order some clothes to be made for her, find out what Thomas had learned at the questioning, and ensure his soldiers had completed their post-ride duties. 

At the front of his residence, William called out to Maeve.  He set the girl on her feet, wondering again at her weight – or rather, lack of it.  When Maeve appeared at the doorway, he told her, “Take care of this poor creature.  I will return in half an hour.”

“My goodness, whatever has happened to you?” Maeve asked the girl as her master rode away.  She didn’t wait for a response, but wrapping an arm around the thin shoulder, she chivvied her into the house, clucking and tutting.  When the girl stumbled, Maeve figured tiredness and hunger were to blame, never thinking to look for a deeper cause. 

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When William returned closer to an hour later, the girl was ready for his inspection.  Bathed, dressed more appropriately and fed, she was still quiet and staring at her feet.  The warrior lord had an intimidating presence, and she was afraid to meet his eye.  He still hadn’t had a good look at her face, and gently lifted her chin, so he could see it better. 

“Maeve!” he almost shouted, taken aback.  “She’s beautiful!”

“I agree, Lord.  It takes more than a casual look to see it, in her condition, but she is.  At least, she will be when she eats regular for a while and fills out a bit.  She looks as though she hasn’t eaten in a month.”

“It’s conceivable, knowing that slimy slave master.  But you won’t believe what I learned about her…”

And he told the story as he had heard it from her fellow villager.  If you could call their home a village, even.  They were from a band of vagabonds which called themselves a tribe, led by a chief.  The girl, Liana, was the only surviving child of a lowly goat tender, a widower, who long hoped that his daughter’s beauty would pay off for him in the end.  When the chief’s son wanted to marry her, the goatherd was beside himself with joy.  Imagine the consternation all around when the girl refused!  The son of the chief was arrogant and cruel, and Liana feared him.  Still, her father insisted, and her friends taunted her for thinking herself too good for a chief’s son.  She tried to escape her fate and the mocking by running away. After she was caught, in anger her own father cut her Achilles tendon to hobble her, so she couldn’t run again.  Then the chief called off the marriage, saying his son could not have a damaged wife.  With his now-crippled daughter a burden and a daily reminder of all he had lost, Liana’s father sold her to the slaver when their path crossed his.  Along with her went a former friend whose ill father sold her for gold that would provide food for the rest of his large family while he was unable to work.

The slaver thought he could sell Liana despite her disfigurement because her face was still exquisite, but times were lean these days, and there were no takers at any of their stops.  He brought her home with him where she labored at chores that her injury made extremely painful.  This also kept her in proximity to her former friend, Irena, who had been sold to a harsh master in the same town where the slaver resided.  Irena and Liana were the same age, and Irena had been so jealous of Liana’s “lucky” engagement that she had harassed Liana mercilessly from the beginning, and now continued whenever she could, enlisting others in her cause.  Between the abuse, unsanitary conditions of the slaver’s home, and lack of food, soon Liana’s beauty was all but erased. 

After Irena told the tale, William was loathe to punish her for her part in it – she was suffering already at the hands of her owner.  Thomas escorted her home and warned both her and her master that further cruelties – by either of them – would not be tolerated.   

Maeve was aghast at the horror of the tale – the girl’s own father cut her!  But by happy coincidence, Maeve had grown up in a town which had frequent visits from tribes related to the girl’s and understood some of the language.  That should make communicating with her easier, and she told William this.

“But what shall you do with her, milord?  Perhaps when she is a free woman and in better health, she will make a good wife for a merchant or tradesman.”

William frowned at the thought, though he didn’t stop to consider why he disliked the idea.  “We shall see, when the time comes.  For now, it will be task enough to undo some of the damage.  And what can be done about her leg?”  He leaned around Liana and slightly lifted the hem of her dress to check the tendon for himself.  She flinched a little but had been trained by the slaver to stand still for any inspection.  He was distressed at first to think that she feared him, who had just rescued her.  Then he realized she had no idea what to expect from him, so he asked her, through Maeve:

“Why are you afraid of me?  You must realize I mean only to help you.”

With Maeve interpreting for her, too, Liana answered, ”Who does not fear the Warrior Lord?  He is powerful and has the ear of the king.  He is fierce and ruthless in battle.  Mothers invoke his – your - name to get their little ones to behave.”

Maeve couldn’t help defending her master.  “You have experienced for yourself milord’s compassion and generosity.  You will see even more while you stay with us.  Only his enemies need fear him.”  Maeve never wasted words and explained no further, but turned to William.  “What do you wish to do next?”

Deciding quickly, and acting accordingly, he whisked a startled Liana up in his arms and told Maeve he was off to the cobbler’s to find out if it was possible to design a shoe that might help the girl walk with less discomfort.  Maeve protested that the cobbler could easily come to them, but William was suddenly too impatient to wait for him. 

When they arrived, the cobbler was busy but dropped what he was doing to attend the great man.  Liana was unaccustomed to anyone fussing over her but sat resignedly while the cobbler and the warrior discussed theories and took measurements of her feet.  She was only used to blows and harsh words, and to have two strange men touching her leg was disconcerting in the extreme.  She’d never even been ill enough to have a doctor touch her this intimately before.  Of course her father had not allowed the cut tendon to be treated except for what was necessary to stop the bleeding.  She was glad the two men were absorbed in the problem of her leg and didn’t notice her face, which was blushing quite obviously, if they had looked. 

After they finished at the cobbler’s, William carried Liana back to his residence.  He decided that she should walk as little as possible until her shoe was ready, since injuries to the tendon – especially ones that had been untreated so long – rarely, if ever, healed properly.  Simply walking likely caused her enough pain (let alone carrying a load of wash all the way to the river) and he did not wish her to suffer.  Even the special shoe probably wouldn’t alleviate all the pain, but there were no other options he could think of.

Back at his residence, William set Liana down on a cot that Maeve had set up for her in the main room.  There was nowhere else to put it, since this was a small, temporary residence for when William visited this town periodically, not his permanent home.  The only other rooms were the privy and a sort of closet where Maeve slept, but it was not large enough for two beds, not even for two smallish cots.

As always, Maeve was seemingly prescient and had just set William’s dinner on the large table that also served as his desk.  As he ate, he thought, and turned to look at the object of his thoughts, but she had fallen asleep.  The stress of the unusual events had overwhelmed her.  Her face free of tension at last, she appeared even more lovely than he first realized.  Perhaps as attractive as his wife who had died in an epidemic several years ago.  Theirs had been an arranged marriage, but he had come to care for her and missed her still.  He had hardly even looked at another woman since Katerina’s death.

But Liana was a child compared to him.  He didn’t know her exact age, but he didn’t think she was 20 yet.  He was 36 and felt much older.  Battle wounds and military life in general had taken their toll on him, and few people in this time and place lived to be older than 60.  In the army, life expectancy was definitely shorter, and even more so for a man like himself who was always in the thick of the fight.  Even if he felt attracted to Liana, even if she could come to feel the same for him – which he doubted – she should be with someone closer to her own age.  Someone who would be around for many years to provide for their children. 

He tried to put it out of his mind, going on with his daily routine.  He didn’t even want to make a decision about Liana’s future because that meant he had to process too many conflicting thoughts about her.  He simply told Maeve he was too busy now to give it proper consideration, and gave the girl into Maeve’s keeping for the time being. 

During most of the daylight hours, he was in the military training area with his men, or out on patrols, and conducting a sort of circuit court, settling village disputes and such.  In the evenings when he was in town, after dinner the townspeople would come to him with their troubles or just to be in the great man’s company for a moment.  He was unfailingly patient, polite, fair and generous with most, handing down wise decisions to feuding neighbors and sage advice to shopkeepers or trading jokes with farmers.  That did not mean he was lenient with wrong-doers, no matter how small their infractions.  In true soldier fashion, he found it was efficacious to stop problems while they were small.  Through it all he tried to ignore Liana’s presence in the background but was always painfully aware of her nearness.

About a month after he had rescued the girl, the visits from supplicants had dwindled to nothing for once, and he finally had a moment to himself.  Or so he thought.
Now Liana came to stand before his table to make her appeal, as she had seen so many others do.  Immersion in the language had taught her a lot in a month, and she had a little extra help from Maeve on how to word her request, and so she began, although with trepidations about being misunderstood. 

“My lord,” she said as she bowed.  “I wish to know what is your plan for me.  I wish to have useful but I cannot unless I have knowing.  The uncertain gives me fear and unhappy.”  Though she was pretty sure she had gotten some parts of the statement wrong, she was glad that at least it was out now.

He would never have expected a direct question from her on the matter!  Caught by surprise, William was no closer to knowing how to answer her than he had been when he first took charge of her.  If he told her what was really in his heart, would she be appalled or would she welcome it?  If she knew how he had been smitten with her quiet grace and charm, the returning healthy bloom to her cheeks, her willingness to work unceasingly at whatever she could (according to accounts from Maeve) – how would she receive such news?

He vacated his chair abruptly and strode to the open window.  It was much easier to gaze out over the landscape below than into Liana’s inquiring eyes.  She surprised him – and herself – again when she quietly came up behind him and clasped his large rough hand with her small smooth one.

She hesitated, unable to think what to say, then blurted out, “My lord does not want me?” Her voice had a little quiver in it, as if she were holding back tears.  Although she desperately wanted an answer – a particular answer - she immediately was appalled at herself and wished she could take the words back.  What had come over her?  She could hardly believe she had dared speak those words to him, considering who he was, and what his behavior had been so far.  Slaves did not ask such things.  And even if they did, why should she ask, when the answer was obvious?  He had just walked away from her.  In all this month he had not taken her to his bed.  A master who didn’t take advantage of a female slave was practically unheard of.  The warrior lord must truly be repulsed by her.  The last thought was the one that brought tears to her eyes.

William did want her.  But it wasn’t right for her.  He shook her hand off from his.  “No!  No!  Leave me!”  He meant the words to sound harsh and discouraging but they came out more strangled instead. 

It was harsh enough for Liana, though.  She took a shocked step back.  Leave?  Where could she go?  She was his slave.  There was nowhere else for her.  Her eyes darted around the room in panic.  Nowhere in this small area to hide, either, to be out of the lord’s sight.  And Maeve nowhere to be found and asked for assistance.  The only idea that came to her was to make herself as small as possible on the floor at the end of her bed so it would block most of the lord’s view of her.  That would have to do for now.  She scurried to make it so, pulling her blanket over her head as she sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, then hugged her knees, head down to sob silently.

Maeve walked into the room at that point.  William’s face told her something was wrong.  Before she could ask what, William shouted at her, angry at himself for losing his composure:

“Tell her…” he stammered and pointed at the little covered bundle at the end of the cot.  “Tell her I can’t… she can’t… I’m too old!  I could be killed in battle any day.  I’m a killer, myself.  She can’t want that.  She can’t want me!  She can’t have me!  I won’t do that to her.” 

Now that she understood what was going on, Maeve moved quickly to Liana.  She uncovered the girl’s tear-streaked face and was met with a babble of foreign words. 

“Help me, Maeve!  Where can I go?  I must leave.  The lord hates the sight of me!  He hates me!”  That was all she could get out before she broke down in sobs again.

While Maeve shushed and cooed and hugged to comfort and calm Liana, William stomped to the far side of his own bed, sitting on the edge of it with his back to the two women.  Elbows on knees, head in hands, he berated himself.  “I should never have let this go so far.  I should have been strong enough to send her away sooner.  Now, look what I’ve done to her!”  He was always so careful in his behavior that regret was a rare thing for him and his mistake this time made him very uncomfortable.

There were several more minutes of ragged whispers and calming discourse back and forth between Liana and Maeve (which William, lost in his own world, didn’t notice), until finally the older helped the younger to her feet and over to stand again before their lord.

“Say it for me, Maeve,” Liana pleaded softly in her own language.  “I don’t know the words well enough.  No!  I can’t do it at all!  I shouldn’t have the first time…”  She tried to turn away but Maeve had her firmly around the shoulders.  The old woman had been William’s nursemaid since he was a child, and his housekeeper since he outgrew the need for a nurse, through his marriage and the loss of his wife.  She knew this was right.  She nudged the girl, and translated as Liana cried out in her anguish to finish before she lost her courage:

“My lord says ‘I can’t,’ but I can’t help it.  For four weeks I have seen - you are strong and brave, but use your power only to do what is right.  You are wise and fair, kind and compassionate, and think only of what you may do to help others.  You are everything that is good.  You tell me not to want this, but …  who would not want it?  I will always want such a man, no matter what his age.  But you are the master.  You must do with me as you wish.”

The rush of the little speech took William’s breath away.  The words were few but her emotions rang true and her logic was compelling.  He was very nearly convinced.
Maeve interrupted his thoughts with a last piece of advice, in a low voice:

“You deserve to be happy, lord.  And as to your age – well, no one knows how much time he has left to his life.” 

She pressed Liana a small step closer toward William, then backed away as stealthily as she could into her little closet and shut the door.