The Firebrand Quenched "The Firebrand Quenched" is a 6000 word excerpt of my Arthurian novel "The House of Pendragon I: The Firebrand". The search for a publisher for that has been long, and continues.
.....by Debra A. Kemp
"Lin, Davy. God speed, Rhys shouted, waving.
Before either of us could answer, the guard beat Rhys down with his whip.
The other boys had paused from their labours to watch. A cold numbness had enshrouded me since Donall's arrival at the bog with my brother in chains, for I had envisioned quite a different version of this scene.
Rhys' bravery stirred my soul. He had called me hero. Who was I to disappoint him? I forced my own fears down for the moment.
Squaring my shoulders, I said, "And to you all, friends!" I raised my branded arm as high as the chains would allow, hand fisted.
Donall cursed in Irish. "I haven't got all day," he shouted, shoving Dafydd forward.
I held my arm out for my brother to catch himself from falling.
As familiar with iron as I was of my brother's voice and gentle touch, I thought I had grown accustomed to the weight. But this time, I was chained to my brother. And we were on our way to market. Like animals.
Each step took us closer to separation. With each step my heart and soul were rubbed a little deeper and rawer.
Dafydd slipped his hand into mine.
I squeezed it in return. I dared not look at him, however. I was not ready to see his pain. I stared instead at the mud-churned track we called a road.
I must be strong for Dafydd. He had asked it of me.
Too soon I saw our destination at the crossroad. A wooden-fenced enclosure, easily twice my brother's height, with a grated iron gate and no roof. The slave pen. Within the shadows, I could see the people it contained.
"Oh, Lin," Dafydd whispered.
I could not reply, for my mouth had long since gone dry.
Two men lounged under the shelter of a stone lean-to beside the enclosure's entrance. The shelter was furnished with table, bench, and a brazier, a-glow with warmth. The remains of a meal littered the table.
Beyond the shelter rose a stone platform, much like the one in the fortress courtyard, with one exception. No whipping post.
"Ho! I got two more for the next auction," Donall said. "Property of the Queen."
One of the slavers rose. Tall and lean, he looked as though he might have been carved from the same stone as the platform. He eyed us.
"Next one's tomorrow. Mid-morning," he said. "Still plenty o' room left. What have you got?" He folded well-muscled arms across his chest.
"One of each. The boy's fairly well-behaved. Has a few manners. He'll give you no trouble." Donall gripped my collar. "But it is only fair to warn you o' this one. I doubt you'll get much for this ugly and ill-mannered creature." He released me, pushing me forward so that I landed on my hands and knees.
Dafydd helped me up amidst the guffaws. My stomach twisted into a knot.
"You'll see that the profits are sent up to the Queen's seneschal?" Donall said, unlocking our manacles.
"Wouldn't dream of holding back from Herself," the slaver said. He gave markers to Donall to take back to the dunn.
Donall draped the chains over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd of townspeople, whistling.
"What we got, Fionn?" The second slave trader tossed a gnawed chicken leg on the table and joined his companion.
"The boy's rather ordinary. A field slave, no doubt. Give him a number and lock him up, Ronan. But I want a closer inspection of the girl."
Ronan opened the gate to the pen. "Here, boy," he said.
My brother shook his hair from his eyes. "My name is Dafydd." He barely spoke above a whisper, but 'twas enough.
The men laughed, but Dafydd held his head high as he walked to the gate.
Ronan hung a wooden placard around my brother's neck.
I doubted the scratches on it said "Dafydd."
"In ya go, boy," the paunchy slaver said, a hand on my brother's shoulder.
Dafydd paused, gazing back at me.
"Oh, she'll be joining you soon enough, boy."
The gate grated closed behind my brother.
"He's got number eighty-nine, Fionn."
Dafydd gripped the bars of the gate.
"Fetch some water, Ronan. I want to see what's beneath all this mud. What you been doing, girl? Wallowing with the pigs?" Fionn said.
I glowered at him.
"There's still too much fire in those eyes," he said. "It isn't often we get an unbroken one from the Queen. By the time she's finished using a slave, there isn't even so much as a spark left. I wonder why it is that you haven't been tamed."
His partner returned with a bucket in each hand.
"Strip," Fionn said.
In the street? I could not move.
Where was the prince? This must his doing.
Fionn grabbed a handful of my gown and drew me towards him. His breath stank.
"I said get those clothes off, girl. Do you not understand plain Irish? If I have to do it for you, there will be naught left of this rag."
It was all I had. I could not let it be ripped. I pulled my gown over my head and draped it over my arm.
"I said strip. That means everything, you stupid wench. The shift too."
It was torn from me before I could react.
Dafydd turned away.
Icy water was tossed at me. First over my head and then from the front. Shivering, I felt the eyes of the world gawking at me. And tried to cover myself.
"The little slut is modest," Fionn said, chuckling softly.
Both men circled me, assessing me from crown to toe .
"Ho! Ho! This one isn't as bad as that chap made out, Ronan said. "Now the shit's gone. Just the sort that merchant we had last week liked to take to the East, for the kips of Rome and Constantinople. He preferred 'em young like this. He would have paid for the pair, to boot."
Fionn merely grunted.
Kip? 'Twas probably better I did not know the word.
"Have you a name? Or did your master call you 'girl'?" Fionn said. He had returned to the shelter and perched on the edge of the table.
I stared at him, trying to forget I wore naught but a band of leather around my neck and that two men leered at me.
Ronan slid his hands over my body, pinching the buds an unknown merchant would have paid dearly for. People walked by, casting curious glances in my direction.
I raised my chin. "I answer to Lin."
Ronan jammed a filthy finger into my mouth. I gagged.
"Tooth missing," he said, withdrawing. He wiped his finger on my cheek.
I coughed.
My arms were pulled away from my body.
"Brand, inside left wrist."
I was spun around, my hair lifted.
"Back's been well marked by the whip. Recently."
"How long have you had your collar?" Fionn said. He filled a cup, drank, and dried his mouth on his sleeve.
"I got it some few days after Beltane," I said.
"The Queen collars 'em at twelve, don't she? Coming of age gift, you could say." Ronan guffawed at his own jest. "No other marks I can see."
"Have you begun your bleeding times yet?" Fionn said.
Affronted by the question, I gave him silence.
Ronan slapped me across the mouth. "Answer the question, girl."
"Yes." I dabbed blood from my chin.
"No manners at all. We could hold her up for the auction next week, Fionn and teach her some in the meanwhile."
"The Queen will be expecting her profit before then, Ronan. You willing to risk her wrath?"
Ronan shook his head.
"Are you still virgin, girl?"
"What?"
"You dare question, slave? We ask. You answer. Understand?" Ronan's second blow sent me to the ground.
Indifferent, Fionn rephrased his query as though I had not understood. "Are you still a maiden, or have you been fucked?"
Dazed and curled into a ball on the ground at Ronan's feet, I never wanted to rise again. I wanted to die from the shame coursing through me.
"Answer!" Ronan drew back his foot.
Kicked. Like a dog on the roadside. Stripped of clothing, dignity and my name, I could not be degraded any lower. And Dafydd had to see it.
My name is Dafydd. My brother had the dignity. He was my strength.
I pushed myself to my feet and glowered at Fionn.
I found voice to say, "I am no longer virgin."
"Who? Your master? A fellow slave? That bloke you were brought with perhaps?" Fionn cast his gaze to the slave pen.
Enough. I had endured worse than this. I had survived the prince with spirit unbroken. I could survive these two. I heaved myself to my feet.
"That bloke is my brother. What does it matter which thief stole my maidenhead? Prince or slave, all shafts are alike."
I paid for the outburst with a lashing no worse than any other. It had only been a matter of time before Ronan resorted to his whip.
"What sort of work can you do, or do you only know how to whore?"
The questions resumed as Ronan recoiled his weapon.
Weakened with pain, weariness, fear and confusion, I answered them.
"How many masters have you had? How many times have you been sold?"
"I was born up there."
"A virgin to the block?"
"As you say."
"By the powers. We'll be lucky to get a silver coin for all our labours."
"Perhaps," Fionn said, busy flicking dirt from under his fingernails.
The questions ended, they allowed me to retrieve my gown from where Ronan had trampled it. As soon as I had dressed, he placed placard around my neck. I was now number ninety.
I refused to have Ronan shove me into the enclosure. Distasteful as I found it, I walked through the gate with what little of my dignity remained.
Dafydd immediately tried to embrace me as I entered.
"Don't touch me! I never want another man to touch me! Ever!"
He shrank away.
"This is what you wanted me to give in to, Dafydd, but a month ago. To be treated like an animal. Why did you not let me die when I had the chance? Why did not you just let me die?"
Tears streamed down my brother's cheeks.
I bit back the rest of my tongue-lashing.
I turned from him and searched for an empty spot where I could nurse my tattered pride.
I found an empty corner, a few paces from the gate. The ground was pure mud, so I leaned a shoulder against the closely spaced slats of the fence. The fresh welts on my back and shoulders throbbed. Even my belly and breasts had not been spared this time.
My last hours with my brother and I had to lose my temper. How could I be so selfish? He had remained at the gate throughout my ordeal.
"I am so very sorry, Lin. Sorry I ever tried to change you. The gods have not been kind to you."
"There are no gods. There is no heaven. There is only Hell. There is only Orkney. The two are the same. And the prince is Satan--Hell's king," I said.
I released a sigh.
"I am sorry too, Dafydd. I know you want to help. I lost control."
"Never mind, Impossible One. I understand."
"Thank you, Dafydd."
"For what?"
"For . . . For being you. For being my brother and my friend." A tear slid down my cheek and I turned my head away.
"After all we have been through, you still try to hide your tears from me? You are impossible." He cupped my chin in his hand and tilted my face upward. His eyes glistened and yet he greeted my gaze with a grin.
Weary, I rested my head on his shoulder, positioning my ear over his soothing, steadfast heart.
"I should thank you," he whispered, stroking my hair. "For being Lin. For being my hero. For coming into my life and being my dearest friend and sister."
He began to sing a hero's song I had never heard before. A song of a warrior with a heart of steel, who refused to yield or bend at the knee, save to one lord, the Pendragon. The only man proven worthy of such loyalty.
"Where did you learn that?" I said at the end.
"I made it for you. I spent all last night and this morning working on it. I feared you might never hear it. Especially--"
"I have heard none finer. My thanks, Bard."
"'Twas my pleasure, Noble One."
"I wish that just once I had something worthwhile to give you in return. But I have nothing that equals your gift."
"You are wrong. Dafydd, the Bard, would not exist without you, Lin. Without your warrior spirit to drive me, I would have no heart for stories or songs. Your bravery is my inspiration."
"How I have feared the prince removing your tongue, Dafydd."
"I remember, vividly, that nightmare from your fevered days."
"I saw him this morning, on the way to the bog. Prince Agravain was with him. They said you had a pretty mouth and I thought they meant . . ."
A shadow flitted across my brother's eyes. Had I not been watching, I would have missed it.
"Dafydd?"
He shivered.
"I am certain they merely intended to threaten you with that, Lin," Dafydd said, at last. "The very thought of all my stories being locked inside me forever--"
"Is more than I can bear. Every time you speak, images of beauty and wonder flow from your lips. At those times, I think--how can the world be ugly, when it has Dafydd? My life is better because of you. But soon--"
We fell silent.
I rested against the fence, tired; knowing the worst was yet to come.
Studying the faces of the others in the enclosure with us, I saw despair and defeat in every pair of eyes that met mine. Not many did. Was this to be my fate? Had I survived Prince Modred's efforts to enslave me simply to become one of these creatures, devoid of hope? Is this how I would look on the morrow when Dafydd was gone?
Without the sun, I had no way of guessing how much time had passed since Donall had arrived at the bog and brought us to town. I was surprised by the lateness of the hour when Ronan and Fionn announced supper.
Slaves surged to the gate, bowls in hand. Dafydd and I had none. What we had used in the fortress belonged to the Queen. They would remain in Dunn na Carraice. I marvelled at her generosity that we still had clothes.
Dafydd joined the line and patiently waited his turn.
"Master?"
"What, boy?" Ronan said.
"Master, my sister and I were sent from the Queen with only the clothes we wear."
"Why should this concern me, boy?"
"Master, if it please you, we have nothing to eat with. Have you a spare you can suffer us to use? We can share the one."
"On your knees, boy. Beg, and I might," Ronan said.
Fionn's grin sickened my stomach.
Dafydd paused for a moment. And it seemed as though he was about to comply.
"Having to ask at all is begging," Dafydd said.
The men laughed, but my brother's shoulders never sagged as he walked back to where I stood.
"I tried," he said, spreading his empty hands.
"You did grand, Dafydd. I am sorry you must go hungry though."
"Even I have my limits, Lin. I know you must think me weak because I use the word 'master'. Because I accept the collar. But I could not do that. I could not degrade myself and beg for those scraps of food. Not after your dignity this afternoon."
"I have never thought you weak. Only more gentle and kind. I would rather starve than have you beg."
Dafydd glanced at the darkening sky, then the mud around our ankles.
"It is going to be a long night."
"Not nearly long enough, Dafydd."
"I know. Still, we cannot stand the entire time. We might as well sit, even if in the mud."
Neither of us relished the idea, but he was right.
"One would think they'd take better care of the property in their charge. If only to increase their profits." A young man stood before us with a bowl filled with steaming porridge in his hand. He spoke British.
"You are well come to use my bowl. My name is Llwch."
"Thank you, Llwch." Dafydd took the bowl and handed it to me. "I am Dafydd. This is my sister, Lin."
"Well met."
I had no appetite and would have been content going without, but I took a few mouthfuls before passing the bowl back to my brother.
He finished it readily enough. Dafydd never seemed to lack an appetite.
"Thank you again, Llwch. That was most kind." Dafydd tried to return the bowl.
"You're entitled to a portion each. No one would say you nay if you had it filled again. Besides, your sister hasn't had very much."
Dafydd returned to the gate and Ronan poured out a ladleful of the crowdy. I doubted he was happy at being thwarted his power.
I forced a few more mouthfuls down, in politeness and for my brother's sake. But again, Dafydd had the greater share of the portion.
"If you don't mind my asking, that song you sang earlier, I've never heard it before. Is it from your homeland?"
"You could say so," Dafydd said.
"You should not be so modest, Dafydd. He made it himself, Llwch."
"Truly? Did you have some bard's training before you were a slave?"
The colour in my brother's cheeks deepened. "No," he said. "I was born to a slave-woman in the Queen's fortress. 'Tis all Lin and I have ever known."
"You've a fine gift, Dafydd."
"I don't know about that. I only know when I have need of them, the words are there for my tongue. Where they come from, I cannot guess."
"Perhaps you might give us another song later," Llwch said.
"Perhaps."
"It would do much to hearten us all."
Llwch stayed for a few more moments then took his leave, promising we could use his bowl again in the morning.
From where I sat, I had a clear view of the fortress and the palace within. The windows were aglow with torch and candle. The Queen and her family would all be sitting down at table about now, in their chairs with soft cushions. Their servants hovering to ensure goblets were never empty and that more meat was always near to hand.
Rhys and Julia and all our companions would be returning to the slaves' hut. How would they be taking the news that Dafydd was gone?
After holding back all day, the clouds opened and it began to rain, hard and steady. It quickly soaked through our thin clothing.
Why not? It only proved my point that there were no gods.
"If ever there was a time for song, this is it," Dafydd said, standing.
I knew my brother would sing. No matter how disheartened he might be, he always rose above his own sorrows to help others.
He began a familiar tune. A male voice joined his. Llwch? Then another and yet another. Soon a host of individuals merged and the mood lightened.
My brother would get along well enough in the world. He was male and would never have to endure the humiliations I did as a girl. Like rape. Like unwelcome hands groping my body. I had a feeling all women went through Ronan's inspections simply because they were powerless females. I envied Dafydd having been born male.
Dafydd led a few other songs, peering at me frequently, trying to get me to join in.
But my heart and soul were beyond being soothed so easily.
At last, he finished and sat down again.
"How different we are, Dafydd."
"Aye."
"Did you ever know my father?"
Dafydd shook his head. "I was too young. Does it matter so much now?"
I could not say why I had brought the subject up.
"I guess not. Whenever I look at you, I see Mummy. Soon, I might lose that last connection with her."
I allowed the tears to spill.
"No simple slave could have fathered you, Lin. Surely one of the Queen's warrior's made you."
"I often wish I had gotten more from Mummy and less from my father."
"Impossible One, you are never content."
"No longer noble?" I said.
"You are always noble, Lin."
* * * * *
The rain continued for most of the night. We sat huddled close to each other, sharing our warmth. Neither of us slept.
By cockcrow the sky began to clear. The sun would grace our auction. Those who would part with their money would not experience undue discomfort while at market.
Fionn and Ronan enlisted several of the men from the pen to prepare the platform for the sale. They carried up the table. And the massive block itself.
"Maybe it is better not to watch, Lin."
"Nothing will help now. Nothing will make the least bit of difference," I answered my brother, still staring through the fence at the activity.
A crowd had gathered around the platform. Conversations were of the weather and business and the Queen. Daily, ordinary affairs. I gripped the fence tighter; my palms too calloused to feel the splinters in the rough wood. Did they not realise we could see them and hear their every word? Occasionally someone would break from the rest and come up to the fence and peer inside, then walk away.
Was the prince out there?
"This is how rape feels, Dafydd. Powerless. So you know."
His eyes told me he understood. His lower lip trembled and he bit it. No one in the enclosure paid us the least attention, yet I clung to my old habit and held my own tears in check.
Several men had arrived to aid Fionn and Ronan. All our placards were checked and the first group was herded from the pen.
"There is so much I want to say, Lin. Everything, for the rest of our lives must be said and done now, for there will be no more 'later, this afternoons'. There will be no more 'tomorrows' for us. I shall never have another chance. And it is ripping me apart. Why did I never see the cruelty like you did?"
I flinched when Fionn called out the first number. A male. It was begun. My stomach knotted.
"You are not to blame, Dafydd."
"Neither are you, Lin. Look at them out there, with their fine wollens and leather boots. Well fed, clean. Dry. And haggling over a copper or a bronze coin for their chattel. They are to blame. And the Queen to allow it. You were right to question. And resist."
A man checked the signs around our necks yet again, then left us alone for the moment.
How little time we had left. How precious little time.
Dafydd took up my hand and pressed the fingers to his lips. I felt his tears as well as his kiss.
"I would fail miserably, Lin, if I tried to express my heart now."
"I already know your heart, Dafydd. 'Tis a twin of mine. I would fail too."
"There is not much we can keep from each other, is there? Never has been. Be strong, Noble One. Be brave."
"Never stop dreaming, Bard. Remember me in your songs."
"Always. Even Excalibur could not sever you from my soul."
He drew me into his arms.
I went readily and pressed myself as tightly as I could against his slender form. And wept.
"I love you, Lin," he said with a sob.
"And I you."
We were still clinging to each other when a man separated us, checked our numbers. He indicated it was our turn to wait near the platform. Our turn to become sheep.
A boy, as young as Olwen went for thirty copper coins. A woman fetched two silvers. Numbers. Fionn called out numbers and genders and hair colouring. Men and women called out numbers of coins. Numbers. Nameless numbers. Meaningless coins.
A hand fell on Dafydd's shoulder, spun him around, and began pushing him to the stage. I heard his gasp, saw the surprise in his eyes. I raised my fisted left hand high above my head, brand facing out. It was the only sign of strength I had left to offer my brother. I would spend it for him; I would have no need of it later.
Dafydd did not resist, but went as gracefully as he performed his stories and songs. No one but us knew what truly lay behind his quiet demeanour as he mounted the steps and then the block. No one but me noticed his trembling. No one cared.
Dafydd stood meekly, with his head bowed. Ronan placed the whip's handle under Dafydd's chin and jerked it up. My brother's hair swung back, giving the crowd a clear view of his features.
"Male, lot eighty-nine. Aged fourteen. Blond hair, grey eyes. Docile, with a strong back and shoulders. Collared. Former owner, Queen Morgause. Easily worth fifty coppers."
Bids came from every direction. Some of the bidders used their fingers to indicate the number of coins they offered. Sixty. Seventy coins of copper. They changed to silver.
Throughout, I could not rip my gaze away. I was afraid to blink and miss that one last glimpse of my brother.
"I'm bid two silver coins. Any one else?" Fionn waited. Asked again. "Come now. Look at the potential before you. This boy is surely worth more than two silver coins."
"Three!" "Are you all finished now?"
The crowd stood silent.
"Sold!"
The gavel cracked against the wooden table, driving home the last nail of my coffin. The sound echoed in my soul. No one but me saw Dafydd flinch.
It was done and over so quickly. One moment I had a brother. The next, he was being shackled and led away.
He was led the steps to his new owner, passing near me.
"Lin!"
If all the world's suffering could be put into a single human utterance, that is how it would sound.
I caught his tunic.