Chapter 5

Weeks went by and even months. Seka wondered first why they stayed. They had secured this part of his war stricken country. No more villages to raid here no more people to kill. But he soon learned they waited for the worst winter’s months to pass. Apparently there was a stretch of mountains between his land and theirs that were dangerous to pass in wintertime. He never knew that, but then he had not been away from the surroundings of his birthplace many times. Slowly he adapted to life in a soldier’s camp, to life as a slave and to life as the bed-warmer of a man… He had never thought he would but he somehow got used to all of it, which didn’t mean in any way that he was happy about it. But it was more of a dull ache in his mind and heart now. The big emotions seemed, for the moment, gone. He learned soon how to behave to make life as little hard as possible and tried his best to endure the rest without thinking too much about it. Lord Medora’s soldiers had soon learned who he was and he could move a bit more freely around camp but he stayed most of the times in his master’s tent anyway. The men mostly ignored him or in any case didn’t want to touch anything belonging to their leader but he didn’t trust them never the same. Even Medora had warned him not to. When forced to walk among them he did his best not to irritate them, provoke them or draw their attention in any way. He was scared to death one of them would want to use him like Medora did, he just could not stand the thought of having to cope with more men than one. He was equally deathly afraid that some of them would feel restless from the lack of fights and decide here was an enemy not yet expired and simply kill him. He was always scared he would happen to walk too long from the camp so that a guard would think he was trying to run away and also kill him. Every time he knew he had some man behind him he felt tense, waiting for the swift sound of a spear flying through the air to plunge into his back. No, he kept in the tent as much as he could. But he got used to the fear too. He also seemed to fall into the subservient behavior of a slave quite easily as time went on. The manners coming so naturally to him it worried him and he wondered if this had been in him all along. Sometimes he had to sit down and really think of his old life to keep in his mind that he once had been free and that it wasn’t even such a long time ago. Keeping Lord Medora sexually satisfied proved the hardest to get used to. He kept being true to his choice of submission though and did not defy Medora again but it took many, many nightly sessions before he was able to block out what happened to him that much that it wasn’t so obvious how he felt inside. Now he had in a way got used to that too. He had begun to see that there were advantages with satisfying Lord Medora and he had begun to be able to drag himself out of the depression that much that he could start to appreciate those advantages. For one thing life was easier on the whole if he bent under Medora’s will. Lord Medora was not a cruel or even unfriendly man he discovered; though a cold-blooded murderer he was. As long as he "behaved" as he put it he didn’t beat him, didn’t yell at him, seldom used a hard word. He could even be really friendly at times, treating him nicely, joking with him, chatting with him… And especially after yielding his body to him he used to be extra kind to him, often giving him things. He brought him a pair of the softest and finest leather boots he’d ever seen. Gave him a huge piece of roasted meat to feast on when he knew there was a shortage of food and the men would probably have killed him just seeing him lick at it. Got him a valuable bone comb set with amber so that he could entangle his long black hair… He had that much bitterness left in him that these gifts really didn’t mean much to him but he welcomed anything that could make his life any easier. And he did understand that this was a gesture that the big man was trying to make. A little something to make him feel better and it was touching in a way. Touching because he knew that Medora was in no way obliged to care the least about the concerns of a slave but obviously did anyway. Touching because this man for all his strength and power still seemed to be bothered that he would hate him. Now, in a way Seka did hate Medora but in another he didn’t. In either case he did not intend to show his master what he really felt. Some things he had to keep to himself and he kept a last lingering feeling of pride and satisfaction in the fact that no matter how powerful Medora was he could not force him to feel certain feelings. He could try to manipulate him but he could never be sure. So what did he feel? Hate? Yes, of course and he really did not enjoy having sex with the man. He got used to it but nothing could ever make him enjoy it. If that was what Medora wanted he would lose. He could not make him enjoy it. He would have to be content with that he kept his mouth shut and did what he was told. It seemed though that he demanded nothing else of his catamite and as he never tried to force a smile out of him while he used him they both seemed to have agreed on an arrangement concerning this that created a sort of truce between them. It was the situation before and after though that hurt his pride the most. Medora obviously knew he had had a hard time adjusting to let another man use him but as he eventually proved willing to yield he tried to ease it up for him. It didn’t stop him but he was gentler about it. Which in short meant that he treated him somewhat tenderly before and after. These moments Seka had started to enjoy in some strange way that he couldn’t understand and that filled him with more shame than yielding to the penetrations. He knew he had fought an overwhelming power to avoid being used but he had lost. No one could blame him for giving up when there was no chance. But he had not fought to avoid those few moments of tenderness. And wasn’t it very shameful to receive such from the very man that had brought all this misfortunes on him? It should be. He tried to tell himself that he couldn’t be blamed for that either though. That he’d never realized how terribly lonely he had been since his family was gone and how much he needed recognition of any kind, from anybody. That all people needed a little bit of closeness to another human being and that one had to take it where he could get it. But these excuses rang falsely in his ears and he was ashamed as he let Medora hold him in his arms afterwards. And he felt ashamed as he let himself enjoy the warmth of his body that protected him from the biting cold of winter that the tent with its small furnace could not chase entirely away. Ashamed as he let himself feel safe being surrounded by those heavy strong arms that could easily have broken his spine but now instead kept him alive and by their possessive strength only kept him from those soldiers out there and from the bloodthirsty axe. Ashamed that he greedily sucked up the words he used to whisper soothingly to him… Ashamed, but he couldn’t help himself. >>> * <<< Every year winter seemed to reign forever but just when you thought that spring really would not come this year you would one evening smell that earthy smell and knows that the spell was broken this year too. Seka used to love to smell the arrival of spring in the air for the first time but now it only seemed to fill him with worries. The camp made ready to break. They would leave for home in about a week. He’d heard people talk, that’s how he knew it. His master had said nothing. Not even if he really was to come with him or not. He tried to tell himself that the most logical conclusion was that he would take him along. He had not said he wouldn’t. He used him quite often; he couldn’t be tired of him yet, could he? He treated him fairly well. He was not so weak anymore. Surely he meant to bring him and didn’t say it just because it was a given thing? But he couldn’t be sure. Not that the thought of going to a strange land that he didn’t know anything about made him especially happy. But if the other alternative was death…? He sighed deeply; the alternative to many things lately had been death. He was so used to by now to feel this constant fear that he was almost indifferent to it. It seemed he was right though, a week later the large train started to move slowly like a lazy snake and he was in it. Lord Medora had not said a word at any time but he was in it. He soon learned his master had been right. The march was not easy. The weather was changing fast. One day it was sunny, the other a blizzard would attack them furiously as a sort of last greeting from the grumpy old winter God. Only the officers and a few of their staff had horses to ride on, all the other horses were used for the wagons of equipment and the loot, all the privates walked. The train moved slowly because of it, but no time were to be unnecessary wasted and they moved at a steady pace. Slowly but never stopping. The pace didn’t falter, didn’t change and the breaks and rests were few and short. The privates seemed used to this way of moving from one place to another but he wasn’t. He felt so tired at times that he was sure he could not put one foot in front the other one more time if his life depended upon it (and it did) The train moved still forever on. If the weather was tolerable (which it seldom were at these altitudes) he managed but when gusts of wind threatened to push him over, when sharp snowflakes whipped him in the face and cold caressed his very bones he was ready to give up. Still he stumbled on somehow. But it seemed he fell back. At the beginning he had walked after Lord Medora’s horse. A few days later he found himself somewhere at the end of the line where the older soldiers and the mildly wounded ones struggled on. Even they seemed to manage better than he did though. With fatigue came clumsiness. More than once he stumbled over small rocks or slipped and fell on patches of ice but dragged himself to his feet every time. Until he managed to fall so badly one day that he hurt his ankle. The pain was so acute at first that he couldn’t rise and walk on it at all and he remained on the ground while the last men of the train slowly increased the distance between him and them. One of them saw it and turned back. If he thought he would offer some help though he was sadly mistaken. The man was clearly angry shouting at him with such a strange dialect that he could hardly understand him. But he gathered as much that the man accused him of trying to run away from them or trying to slow them down and that if he didn’t move his lazy ass right now he would kill him where he sat and let the wolves eat his bones clean. He emphasized these words by hitting him over the head with his open callused palm and by jerking him to his feet pushing him forward. He dared nothing else than limp and hop to catch up, trying to ignore the stabbing pain as much as he could. He was sure then that he wouldn’t make it. It was only a few hours to nightfall when they would rest and maybe he could manage it up till then. But by the morning his ankle would be too swollen and tender to walk on at all and then he would die. He would be left for the wolves or be killed. Only the fact that he didn’t have the strength stopped him from starting to cry at this despairing thought. And Lord Medora? Well, he seemed not to care anymore. He hadn’t even seen him in days. They stopped for the night but putting up tents would take too much time. They only built big fires and put up some simple shelters for protection from the wind and huddled close together. The first nights he had searched for the shelter where his master might be but it had got too dark too fast. He couldn’t find him. He had made the mistake of asking around a bit but had only got angered grunts for answers, he didn’t dare drawing too much attention from them and stopped asking. Eventually he had sneaked near a fire; any fire and tried to sleep. Fortunately he had got pretty good clothes and plenty of food. He had gathered as much things as he had been able to while still in camp. Medora had sometimes been rather generous towards him and he had saved everything, every piece of clothing, any food that could be stored without decaying... He had tried to prepare for the march. And as he helped his master pack his stuff and put it on the wagons he had packed his own stuff too in a simple bag that he had hung under his clothes so that the men wouldn’t see it and take it away from him. So he was dressed in many layers of clothes which helped him a bit from the cold. He was still freezing but he would live. The gathered food kept him alive because the men gave him almost nothing. He was glad he had prepared such otherwise he would have been dead already. Medora had warned him the march would be hard and that he would mostly have to fend for himself. The march would demand much of the officers as well and he wouldn’t have time to "baby-sit" him all the time. He was glad he had taken that advice literally because it seemed Medora had abandoned him all together. Obviously he didn’t care what happened to him now and Seka thought that surely he wouldn’t even care to search for him if he decided to run away now. That would be fairly easy he told himself. Though it seemed some of the men kept an eye on him he could easily have sneaked off after dark. But where to? He was smack in the middle of a mountain and he didn’t know the way. He would not survive one day here on his own. Though if he had had any hope of surviving the march at all it was now gone. He didn’t know how long the march would last. How far off the goal was but he started to seriously doubt that his food would be enough. And his hurt ankle was the last straw. When the train finally came to a slow halt and the men started to gather wood for the fire from the few and windswept bushes and low and twisted trees that grew here. He hid behind a big boulder to avoid being chased out to help them and gave away to total despair, crying silently but violently. When the dark would fall he would probably do as all the nights up till now and go to the nearest fire and try to find a sleeping place where he would not annoy anyone. But it really seemed pointless. Nothing could make him walk another step on this foot. It was too injured by now. Maybe even broken, it felt like it if you were to consider the throbbing pain. >>> * <<< Medora had noticed that the boy had fallen behind pretty soon but as the march started he was too busy to see to the arrangements to bother with it. He was sure he would not get far. He would be in the train somewhere. He would probably be fine. He was well dressed and Medora knew he had some food. As soon as he had got some free time from the responsibility of leading the march though he had steered his horse against the train and asked around for him. The men had pointed this way and that way but he had not found him and then something had demanded his attention again and he decided to keep looking later. He had looked for him when the train halted for the night’s rests too when he could but the halt demanded his attention too and it got dark quickly and so he missed the chance over and over again. He wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, and that was probably why he didn’t press the subject of finding him any further, but he was quite worried. He had taken a few short rounds every night though and this night was no exception. He asked around a bit again but no one claimed to have seen him. And so he gave up for the night and decided to go back. He was hindered by a crowd that had gathered around two men arguing over the building of a fire and he looked on in case it would turn into a fight. It seemed it wouldn’t though and he decided there was no use in breaking them up. He was too tired to bother anyway and just steered the horse around a big boulder to avoid them. He almost missed the dark bundle huddling beside the stone giving away stifled sobs. In fact he would have if the horse had not shied a bit. He forced the horse closer then and was soon sure that what he looked down upon was a huddled up Seka. "So there you are?" He said with a voice that didn’t betray the relief he felt at that sight. He jumped off the horse and leant over him shaking him by the shoulder. He seemed not to have noticed him; he wasn’t dead, was he? He proved at once that he was not. When he realized who was in front him he clung to his leg and cried. Medora tore him loose with a mixture of relief, amusement and irritation and made him stand up. "Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you, you know and don’t you think I have better things to do?" He cried even more then. Seka was relieved as well and touched that he had actually been looking for him. He hadn’t abandoned him after all then. But maybe he would now when he was hurt and would be nothing but trouble? He admitted the truth though and watched in horror how his master’s face seemed to change into a harder expression. "Well, I’m not surprised. I knew you wouldn’t make it. If I’d had any sense at all I would just put you out of your miseries right away… No, no please don’t get hysterical on me now. I won’t, all right?" He pulled him close and held him against him. "It’ll be all right, you’ll see. We’ll look at it in the morning. And tonight you will sleep with me, come on." Before he knew it he sat in front Medora on the horse as he steered it towards the head of the train. >>> * <<< If Lord Medora’s officers thought something of it seeing him ride up to their fire holding that black-haired little whore in front him they in any case did not say anything. Seka understood it was a bit of a blow to Medora’s pride having to show this openly that he went through such trouble during a demanding march to care for him. But it seemed he had that much respect from his men that they chose to overlook it as he went straight through them carrying his catamite in his arms. His stern face seemed to challenge anyone to mention anything about it, no one took up that challenge, though some smiled wryly and some looked a bit surprised. He took him into the shelter and he rolled them both into a pelt and soon the warmth spread through him. >>> * <<< Next morning, very early before the train started waking up for real, Medora checked up his ankle. He was almost sure the ankle was not broken he said but it was badly sprained. He scowled at him while bandaging it with stripes torn off of Seka’s shirt. Why had he not been more careful? Why had he not stayed near him? Did he realize how much trouble he caused him? Did he understand the responsibility that came with leading these troops? Had he seen the taunting smiles on his officer’s lips, as he had had to carry him here? Seka cringed and shrank at every word. But after a while Medora seemed to be angry more with him self. Muttering things like he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been keeping a catamite on a march. "Now you can’t walk on that!" It was merely stating the fact said in a somewhat resigned manner. "And I can’t let you ride with me, I would be tiring the horse too much…" He cut himself short and stared at him trying to think of a solution. The obvious solution would of course be to just leave the boy behind. They would never fuzz with injured prisoners. Or, if he felt like being a bit merciful, just take him out and knock his head off when he wasn’t looking. He understood that the boy knew what he was thinking, he didn’t look at him but trembled and was obviously fighting his tears. "Ah…damn…" He cursed and reached down to pull the boy to his feet. "Come with me!" He ordered simply and took Seka under the arms, half walking him half carrying him out of the shelter and down the line of dying campfires. They went over to where the wagons was parked and Medora dragged him up to the only one at this time in the morning where the wagoner was up and about to make ready for departure. The wagoner looked wonderingly at them but only nodded respectfully at Medora and said nothing. "You will take this one with you on the wagon!" Lord Medora simply ordered and pushed Seka mildly against him. Seka stood in front the wagoner, balancing a bit unsteadily on one leg and didn’t dare to look up. He could never the same feel the wagoner’s stare. "What for?" Came the answer fast. Seka never knew how these men dared being so informal with a man he knew to be so powerful. But of course, they were not small and insignificant like he was and they did show their leader a lot of respect in other ways. He should know, the respect these crude soldiers felt towards their tall general was the only thing that kept them from turning him into minced meat. "Well, he can’t walk, can he? With that sprained ankle." The wagoner just snarled contemptuously. "Oh just waste the little creep. He isn’t worth the trouble. We’ll be home in a week and there’ll be plenty of boys and girls to shake the memory of this damn cold…" He took a hold of Seka’s neck and squeezed hard, forcing a frightened yelp out of him. This seemed to amuse him and he grinned widely. "It’s harder ha? To kill them when you have bedded them? You want me to do it? I’ll wring the neck of this skinny thing easily." He squeezed harder and it was all Seka could do to dangle in his grip and look pleadingly at his master. Medora didn’t react at all first but then it seemed he thought he had no obligations to explain his decision to the wagoner. "Take him on the wagon with you!" He ordered again and this said he simply turned and walked off. Seka was terrified. He just left and turned him over to this man that wanted to snap his neck with his bare hands? The wagoner still held him for what seemed a painfully long time but then he sighed and let go. It seemed Medora would be obeyed after all. "All right you get on that wagon but you be a nuisance to me and I will snap that twig neck of yours… By the gods… such nonsense… pretty as a girl and the general goes all silly like…" It was muttered under his breath and through his tangled beard as he walked over to the horses and Seka couldn’t hear the last of it. He climbed onto the wagon then with some difficulty and wondered how Lord Medora could have been so sure the wagoner would obey him. A cold shiver ran up his spine as he realized that he must not have been sure at all. But he couldn’t have stressed the order more than he did. It would have been humiliating for him. Well, thank God the wagoner had chosen to do what he wanted anyway. As he returned with the horses he cowered among the loot on the wagon and tried to act invisible. He would not annoy this man the least if he could avoid it. >>> * <<< As they descended from the winding roads of the mountain’s pass it got warmer. This seemed to bring new life into everyone. The men were in a good mood and there was laughter and singing at the campfires at nights now and even the horses seemed happier prancing like young bucks. Seka also enjoyed the warmth and the sun shining and seeing the trees sprouting mouse ears. But was otherwise not in the same good mood as the rest of this party. They were all going home, he was the only one going away… for good. Something told him he would never see his own country again. And the Gods should know he had not had much of a life there but it had been his home. The only home he knew and there had been good things about it as well. In the summers, as soon as he had not had to work to get food he had roamed the forests surrounding the village freely. Slept under trees and hunted jackrabbits. Eating berries and fishing in the streams. He’d been happy those days he remembered. Lord Medora had been wrong. Living with the farmers and working for them had sometimes been hard and not always an uplifting experience concerning his pride but it had been nothing like slavery. Not like this… >>> * <<< They arrived to a small village at the foot of the mountain that looked sleepy enough even at noon but it got fast to its feet as they neared it. Every living creature seemed to come out to greet them. A hero’s welcome they got. Everyone offering them all that they would need and fancy from what little they had. The soldiers seemed touched and there were scenes everywhere of handshaking, laughter tears and hugs. Offers and thanks of all kinds showered through the air. Seka looked on silently and from his place on the wagon, which he had not left. He felt sickened. This village seemed not so different from his own. There was a mountain separating them but that was about all. These people looked not different from his and they spoke the same language though with a different dialect. But when these soldiers had rode into his village they had brought death and mayhem. He rose from his huddled place though as he saw Lord Medora coming towards the wagon. He had not seen him much lately. He had only come to the wagon once to see to him and talk to him a little. Now he motioned for him to come down from the wagon even helping him by taking his arm as he jumped on the ground. The ankle was still sore but he could limp around on it fairly well now. He still held on to his arm as he was leading him towards the center of the village. He looked about him shyly. What would these people think of him? He was a foreigner here, an enemy even as they might see it though he couldn’t see himself that way. He hated the soldiers for what they had done to his people but the people of this village was a different thing. He wasn’t sure what he felt about them. It seemed most of them ignored him though. Most did not see him at all in the commotion around the soldiers. A few looked at him as Lord Medora walked him pass them but didn’t react much to it. Suddenly one woman stepped up to him though and unexpectedly spit him in the face. "Bastard!" She hissed and he shied back at this unexpected hate bewildered not knowing how to react to it. Medora didn’t stop though and pulled him with him. He had seen it of course but didn’t recognize it. Said nothing and showed nothing. They walked over to another wagon and Medora let go of him for a few seconds while rummaging around in it soon turning towards him again with that cursed chain in his hand. Oh please not that, Seka pleaded in his head but didn’t say anything at first knowing it would be hopeless to even try. Why would he do that? There was even less chance of him running away now. Wasn’t it? He had absolutely nowhere to turn in this land and would have no chance of getting across the mountains again on his own. Chaining him like a dog now was just pointless. And surely he would know by now he would not put up any sort of fight? The thought of being led by that chain through this village made him almost cry. Talk about humiliating. What else would better point him out as the lowlife these people seemed to think he was? He dared a plea anyway. "Please Master… I swear I won’t cause any trouble… please don’t…" Medora smiled a sad smile and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I know you’re not but these people don’t. It’s for your own safety as well. Only stray dogs get killed." He laughed at that last witty remark. Seka didn’t find it funny at all and he was still biting his cheeks not to start to cry while Medora locked the chain around his neck. There was considerably more people staring at him now he thought, as he was led back into the village. He’d had never felt more ashamed in his entire life. It was much worse being chained here. In the soldier’s camp it had at least not been out of place. But here it just felt so much more humiliating. Little did he know that the humiliation of this would be nothing of what he would face in just a few days.

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