The Forestwalker
by Sarah Wheeler
Table of Contents
Chapter 3
By the time morning came, Gareth was stiff, sore, and bone-weary. He had dozed fitfully all night; he probably would have slept better if he hadn't been so out of practice at sleeping sitting up, but he decided that was probably for the best when he forced himself awake to the sound of the clock striking six. If Kastor thought that he had spent a restful night kneeling on the floor, he would probably end up just as angry as if Gareth had disobeyed him by not spending the whole night on his knees.
Kastor woke up thirty minutes later, and he actually looked disappointed when he turned on the lights and found Gareth just as he had left him the night before. But he got what he wanted all the same, because when he asked for his robe and Gareth rose to get it, Gareth found that his legs had cramped up during the night. He stumbled and fell, and as he was trying to get back up, Kastor leaped out of bed, grabbed a shoe from the floor, and began to beat Gareth with it, shouting, “Worthless, lazy swine!”
Deciding not to make things worse, Gareth willed himself to lay still on the floor until Kastor got tired of hitting him. When Kastor finally stopped and ordered him to get up, his legs had recovered and he was able to stand, though he was now more sore than ever and had a splitting headache. He retrieved Kastor's robe and dressed him in it, then stood on trembling legs as Kastor unlocked his leash from the foot of the bed. He followed his young master into the bathroom and ran his bath, then returned to the bedroom to make the bed, put yesterday's clothes in the laundry chute, and pick out clothes for Kastor to wear – just like every other day. He took the clothes into the bathroom and helped Kastor dress, then waited expectantly for Kastor to unlock his hobble chain so that he could bathe and change his clothes too. But Kastor ignored him completely as he brushed his hair and cleaned his teeth, then he pulled the drain from the tub, grabbed Gareth's leash, and dragged him back into the bedroom. He shoved Gareth to his knees and locked his leash back to the foot of the bed. “You know the drill,” he sneered, then he turned and left the room, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
Gareth slumped down and rubbed his temples, wincing as his fingers brushed the lumps that were beginning to swell on the back of his head. No sleep, no bath, no breakfast again... and this was before Kastor got the really bad news. At least during their trip to the city he wouldn't be alone with Kastor. Gareth was looking forward to this trip, and not just for that reason. He rarely got a chance to even leave this house, much less the estate. He had been to the city with the Cranes less than a handful of times during his five years in their service, but every one of them had left him with happy memories, which were a rarity in his life now. Despite the pall that Master Teskar's impending bad news would cast over the trip, Gareth still considered it a welcome diversion.
As a result, despite his exhaustion, Gareth stayed alert and was ready when Kastor returned. He was able to get to his feet, and he gave his young master nothing to complain about or hit him for as he packed for the trip. Then, he did his best to keep up as Kastor took his leash and dragged him out of the room. He struggled down the stairs with the heavy bags and set them near the door, then stood there with his head bowed, waiting for the others to arrive. He saw Master Teskar come into the room, carrying Shanna, and he could tell they were both looking at him. It was at that moment that he realized he probably looked pretty awful, with his face all bruised and swollen, with dark circles under his eyes from not getting any sleep, dirty and hungry and tired. The question was, would his master say anything to Kastor about how he was being treated? He saw the look of sympathy in Teskar's eyes, but his heart sank when he heard his master say, “You're not bringing your slave, Kastor.”
“But why?” Kastor whined.
“You asked me to punish him, and he is being punished. That means he has to stay here. Going on this trip is a privilege, one he may no longer share with us. Take him back upstairs.”
“I will not! He's my slave, and he's coming with me!”
“If you wanted him to come, you should have thought of that before you asked me to give him such a harsh punishment for such a trivial transgression. Now do as I say!”
Gareth knew his master meant well, but he was devastated by the loss of this privilege nonetheless. He stumbled after Kastor as he was dragged back up the stairs, too stunned and disappointed by this change of plans to even muster up enough emotion to care about how Kastor was going to take out his anger before he left.
As soon as the bedroom door closed behind them, Kastor threw Gareth to the floor and began to beat and kick him. It didn't last long, but it was a furious attack that left Gareth disoriented and seeing stars. It was all he could do to get to his hands and knees and crawl to the foot of the bed when Kastor jerked violently on his leash.
“On your knees, scum,” Kastor said as he dragged Gareth upright and locked the leash around the bedpost, leaving so little slack that Gareth was unable to sit down. Then, Kastor unlocked one end of the chain between Gareth's ankle shackles, dragged Gareth's wrists behind his back, threaded the chain through the rings on Gareth's wrist shackles, and locked it back where it belonged. He stood up and put the key in his pocket. “At least I'll know where you are while I'm gone. Let's see how a week of this agrees with you. That'll teach you to disobey me and get me in trouble.” He slapped Gareth across the face, slamming Gareth's head into the bedpost, then turned and stomped back through the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind him.
Gareth's head was ringing, and darkness was threatening to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to stay upright until he heard the carriage rattle off down the drive and fade away. Then, he slumped against the bedpost, tugging weakly at the chain that now locked his wrists to his ankles behind his back. This was a new level of cruelty for Kastor. They were going to be gone for a week. Did any of the household staff even know he'd been left here? He could call out to someone if they didn't, he supposed, but right now he was just too tired and in too much pain to care. Closing his eyes, he slumped down weakly as far as the leash around his neck would let him go and rested against the foot of the bed until he fell asleep.
When he was awakened by a hand on his shoulder, he panicked and was struggling back upright before he'd even opened his eyes.
“Relax, child. I'm not here to punish you; I'm here to take care of you.”
It was Celise, the cook. Gareth relaxed slightly and slumped again, held up only by the bedpost and the chain around his neck. “Poor thing,” Celise was saying as she wiped his face with a cool, damp cloth. “What did that little monster do to you?”
Gareth forced his eyes open, finding it difficult and painful. The bruises covering his face had swelled to their proper size while he was sleeping. “Wouldn't let me sleep,” he muttered. “Couldn't take me with him. Got mad. So hungry... so tired...” He tried to move his arms, then remembered why he was kneeling uncomfortably next to the bed instead of lying on the floor to sleep.
“It's alright, dear. He's gone, and he won't be back for a while. I'll go find the key, and then I'll take care of you.”
“No... can't... took the key... more trouble... can't get in more trouble...”
“Hush, dear, I promise no one will punish you for this, not even Kastor. Now, just rest, and I'll be back in a minute.”
Gareth wasn't sure if this was a dream or not, but he closed his eyes again as the cook got up and left the room. A few minutes later, he felt someone return and kneel down beside him, then he felt the chains holding him up and keeping his hands behind his back being removed. Then, hands were bearing him to the floor, and suddenly he was lying on a cloud. Something warm and soft covered him, and he sank in to comfortable oblivion. Now he was sure it was a dream, but he embraced it, and he was asleep again before he could stop himself.
When he woke up again, he was in a lot less pain, and he opened his eyes to find himself lying on the floor at the foot of Kastor's bed. But someone – Celise, almost certainly – had brought in a feather mattress, and a pillow, and a soft quilt, and he was lying in more comfort than he had experienced in a long time. He looked around and saw a tray of food lying on the floor next to him: real food, not scraps. Without thinking, he sat up, took the tray onto his lap, and began to eat and drink. He devoured the sandwich, steamed vegetables, sliced apple, and glass of cold milk, savoring the taste of every bite. When the tray was empty, he lay back down with a contented sigh. He was sure he was going to pay for all this later, but, at the moment, he didn't care. It felt so good just to be able to relax, to have his time be his own, if only for a little while.
He didn't want to get up just yet – he was too wrapped up in warmth and comfort, and he still wasn't quite convinced it was real – but he wasn't tired any more, so he lay back into the softness of his new bed and reveled in it. Then, his eyes fell on the bookshelf next to the wall near his head. Suddenly, on a reckless impulse, he knew what he would do to pass the time while Kastor was gone. Sitting up slightly, he reached out and took one of Kastor's history books off the shelf. Then he turned over on his stomach, opened the book to the first page, and began to read.
He lost himself in that book, the first one he'd been allowed to read in five years. History had always fascinated him; the history of his own people and his own land had been his passion when he'd been in school, and was always riveted by Kastor's history lessons, even though they always put his young master to sleep. There was so much more to the world and its past that he had not yet learned, so much more he wanted to know, but the thing that commanded his attention initially was the large color map of the world that folded out of the center of the book. Eshara and Shasta were clearly marked, as was the wild central grassland, the northern forest, and the western island chain nation of Pan'sho'Ke. Gareth traced the border of his old forest home with his finger, fighting back a wave of homesickness. That mottled patch of green was a poor representation of the majesty of those great trees, and on some level only served to remind him how far away from home he was and how little these foreigners knew about where he had come from, but he took some comfort in his memories at the same time. Somewhere in that vast, uncharted land, his village still stood, and people's lives went on, he imagined, much as they had done before he'd been stolen away. His parents probably still lived there; did they still think about him? Had they had another child after they'd lost him? Had his friends made their journeys to the clearing and found evidence that he'd been there, the last mark he'd left in that land? Had they searched for him? They would all be making regular solo trips into the wilds now, and leading hunting parties, and being apprenticed to the village craftsmen and farmers and harvesters to learn their future trades. Thoughts of all he had lost, of the life he could have had, overwhelmed him and he brushed a hand across his eyes to ward off threatening tears.
“Oh good, you're awake and you've eaten. How are you... What do you have there?”
Gareth hadn't heard the cook enter the room. He slammed the book shut, but he couldn't hide the fact that he'd been reading it. He got to his knees and turned to face the cook, his head bowed.
“Is that one of the young master's books?” Celise asked, surprised. Gareth nodded. “But what were you doing with it?”
“I'm sorry, miss. I was reading it, miss,” Gareth said hesitantly, his voice shaking slightly. “To pass the time, miss.”
To his relief, she just smiled and sat down on the feather bed next to him, patting him kindly on the head as she did so. “It's alright, dear. I was just surprised. I didn't realize you could read. Where did you learn?”
“In school, miss,” Gareth answered, relaxing slightly.
“School? You don't mean from young Kastor's tutor, do you?”
“No, miss. I went to school in my village when I was a child... before I was captured and sold into slavery.”
The cook's face went very pale at this and she looked shocked. “Oh!... Gareth, I'm sorry, I didn't mean...”
“It's alright, miss.” He hadn't expected her to know – about the fact that he could read, or anything else. He didn't think that anyone here, not even Master Teskar, knew anything about his life before he had come here as a slave. No one usually wanted to know how someone had become a slave; it was always an obvious and depressing reminder of just how unfair life was for some people.
“How did you end up here, as young as you are?” she asked, which surprised him. “And you can sit down, dear. No need to be so deferential to me; I'm just the cook.”
“Yes, miss,” Gareth said as he sat down, wondering where to start. It wasn't something he really wanted to talk about, but it was nice to have company, and someone talking to him almost like an equal made him feel almost like a person again. So he told her – about his home, and the trip into the forest, and how he'd gotten lost and captured and taken all the way across the world to end up here. He glossed over the details of the hellish journey across the grasslands that had destroyed all his hopes for the future and had turned him from a free man into a slave. He didn't want this sweet young woman to know what that had been like; no one deserved the pain that knowledge would bring them.
She seemed to be able to imagine the details he'd left out well enough, though. She was silent for a very long time after he finished his story. Gareth wanted to fill that silence with something, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Telling his story to someone for the first time since it had actually happened to him had renewed the acute pain, grief, and loss that he had kept so deeply buried for five long years. Part of him wanted to comfort her, to tell her that it wasn't as bad as it sounded, but after everything that had happened in the last two days that would have been a bald-faced lie. Being a slave was as bad as it sounded – sometimes worse – and if more people knew that, maybe some day there would be fewer slaves. Closing his eyes, Gareth fought back the tears that were burning his eyes, suddenly acutely aware of the unfairness of the world.
“I'm sorry, Gareth. I never realized...” Suddenly, Gareth found himself wrapped in a comforting hug. He stiffened in surprise, which made Celise laugh a little, though it sounded like the laugh someone makes when they're trying very hard not to cry. Then, she sat up and ruffled his short, spiky black hair affectionately as she smiled sadly at him. “Does anyone else know any of this?” she asked, and Gareth shook his head. “Don't worry, I won't tell them. And I'm sorry I can't do more for you, but I'll bring you your meals up here, and I'll leave your chains off, and I promise that Kastor will never find out that you didn't stay exactly as you were told while he was gone. I can give you that freedom, at least. How does that sound?”
Gareth blinked hard as tears of immeasurable gratitude pricked his eyes. “Thank you, miss,” he said hoarsely, looking up at her. She smiled and hugged him again, then picked up the empty tray and got up to go.
“I'll come back after supper with more food,” she promised. “You just relax and try to enjoy yourself.” And Gareth silently promised to do just that as he watched the door close behind her. He heard it lock again, but he didn't mind, because it meant that he could enjoy the freedom he had been given without anyone but Celise knowing about it.
And his first real exercise of that freedom, he decided, was to take a real bath, with soap and hot water and everything. He got up from his soft bed, realizing for the first time that the hobble chain between his ankle shackles was gone – Celise had given him true freedom, - and limped slowly into the bathroom. Studying himself in the mirror as he got undressed and waited for the tub to fill, he realized that Kastor had really done a number on him this time. He was covered with bruises, he had two black eyes and a large bloody lump on the side of his head, and he could see the imprints of the soles of Kastor's shoes where he had been stomped and kicked. Sinking into that hot water, letting the bubbles cover him up to his chin, and relaxing and soaking away his aches and pains was absolute bliss. He relaxed in there until his fingers and toes were all wrinkled and the water went cold, then he washed his hair and reluctantly got out. He found a clean set of his clothes in the back of Kastor's closet, washed the old ones and hung them up to dry on the towel bar in the bathroom, then cleaned up after himself and went back to the bedroom, where he flopped down on his bed, opened Kastor's history book, and lost himself in the past again.
Over the course of that week of leisure, Gareth read through most of Kastor's bookcase, starting with the textbooks and moving on to his storybooks and novels once he had run out of everything else. There really wasn't much else to do. Kastor had no toys or games; he had always spent his spare time reading or riding horses or hiking in the forest. But the cook came in to visit him whenever she could spare the time, and she asked him to tell her all about the forest where he'd lived, and he found himself enjoying telling her all about his former home. She was fascinated by his description of the trees, the villages, the people there, and the way they lived their daily lives. It was all so different from everything she knew. She had grown up in the village just north of this plantation, and had never been more than five miles from that village in her entire life. And though she had been to school and learned about the rest of the world, her information about the northern forest was as incorrect as what Kastor's tutor was teaching him. Gareth was more than happy to correct her misconceptions; he only wished he could do the same for Kastor and everyone else who thought of his people as wild, illiterate savages.
But he didn't allow himself to dwell too much on the negative, because he didn't want anything to ruin this time he had to himself. He watched his bruises slowly heal and fade, he got plenty of sleep and took a relaxing bath every day, the cook brought him plenty of food, and he read and talked with her and felt just like a normal kid for seven whole days. It was perfection.
Gareth woke up early on the morning when the Cranes were due to return, took another long, relaxing bath, then got back into the ragged burlap shirt and pants he had been wearing before, cleaned the bathroom and the bedroom to spotless perfection, reluctantly folded up his temporary bedding and placed it by the door for Celise to take away, then went back to his knees beside the bed to wait for her to chain him up again.
When Celise came in with his breakfast and saw what he had done, she looked heartbroken for his sake. “You didn't have to do all this yet, dear,” she said as she set the tray down in front of him. “They may not be back for hours yet.”
“Yes, miss. But if Master Kastor thinks when he sees me that I haven't been here the whole time like he ordered me to be...” He trailed off and looked over to the top of Kastor's dresser, where his chains were sitting. He couldn't bring himself to touch them. “I shouldn't eat anything either, miss, though I thank you for bringing it all the same.”
She sighed heavily at that, but nodded understandingly as she got up and turned towards the dresser. He knew how reluctant she was to return him to the state she had found him in, so he put his hands behind his back and didn't look at her. She picked up the chains and turned back to him, then stopped. “No,” she said. “I won't condone what he did to you by acting like I just let you suffer while he was gone. I will tell the master what he did to you, and I'll make sure he stops Kastor from retaliating, but I'm not going to chain you up again.”
Gareth knew she meant well, but nothing Master Teskar could do would stop Kastor from retaliating if Gareth disobeyed him. “No, miss. Please, you have to put the chains back on me. It won't stop him; telling Master Teskar what he did. I don't mind... it's better than the alternative. Please?” He looked up at her, begging for her understanding with his eyes.
She looked down at him for a long minute, and he fought off five years of training in order to lock eyes with her in hopes that she would do as he asked. Finally, with tears in her eyes, she went to her knees and embraced him. “You're too good for him, Gareth,” she said, then she looked away as she replaced the chain between his ankle shackles, threading it through his wrist shackles in the process. Then she locked the chain leash to the collar around his neck and tightened it around the bedpost. She ruffled his hair and wiped her eyes again as she picked up the tray still full of what looked like a delicious breakfast.
“Thank you, Miss Celise, for everything,” Gareth said softly. His head was bowed, but when he heard her turn back, he looked up at her with a grateful smile. The pain and humiliation he would face when Kastor returned would be more bearable as a result of the week of leisure he'd just enjoyed thanks to her. She smiled through her tears as she closed and locked the door behind her.
Gareth knelt there on the floor, not moving a muscle, and did his best to think wearying thoughts and look hard-done-by. He intentionally stiffened his muscles and tired himself out so he would look as if he had remained in that position for a week with little food or rest. He was counting on Kastor's grief and distraction to do the rest, and, fortunately, that plan worked like a charm. Around midday, Gareth heard the carriage coming up the road. He slumped down against the bedpost again and tried to look weak and exhausted when he heard footsteps on the stairs. A minute later, there was the sound of a key in the lock, then Kastor entered, carrying his bags and looking dusty and tired from traveling. He barely glanced at Gareth as he tossed the bags towards the bed. “On your feet, lazy swine,” he said, though his heart was barely in it. “You've got work to do.”
Gareth straightened up and pulled on the chain holding his wrists behind his back, making sure it made noise. Kastor had already turned and headed for the door, but when he heard that sound, he stopped and turned around. “Oh, right.” He went over and roughly released Gareth's wrists from the chain that held them, locked it back to his ankles, then loosened the leash around the bedpost so Gareth could stand up and move around the room. “Get to work, slave,” he said wearily as he dragged Gareth to his feet by his collar, then he shoved Gareth towards the bags and turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
With a sigh of relief, Gareth caught himself on the bed to keep from falling as Kastor left the room. He slowly stood up straight as feeling returned to his legs, then stretched to relieve the tension in his back and shoulders before reaching for the bags and hauling them up onto the bed. He opened them and began to put away his master's clothes. Most went down the laundry chute in the closet, but some had been cleaned while he was away and were folded up and returned to the dresser or hung back up in the closet. When Gareth opened the second suitcase, he got a bit of a surprise. Sitting on top of the jumble of dirty clothes stuffed into the suitcase was a hand-made, well-loved rag doll. Gareth recognized it immediately; it was Shanna's doll, her most prized possession, and she never went anywhere without it. Gareth sensed trouble brewing. If Kastor was tormenting his sister, it was Gareth who would suffer the physical punishment. It seemed that his reprieve was truly over, and it appeared that Kastor hadn't changed at all during his week without a slave by his side.
A few minutes later, just as he was folding the last of his young master's clothes, Gareth heard the door open. Assuming it was Kastor, he did not dare turn around, which meant he jumped about a foot when a tiny hand reached up and tugged on his shirt sleeve. Then, a timid voice asked, “Please, have you seen my dolly?”
It was Shanna. With a relieved smile, Gareth picked up the doll from where he'd set it aside on the bed, turned, and handed it to her with a small bow. “Oh, thank you!” she cried as she clutched the doll to her chest. Still smiling, Gareth made to turn back to his work, but before he had moved an inch, Shanna had launched herself at him. Grabbing him tightly around the waist, she buried her face in his shirt and began to sob.
Gareth was completely stunned by this. Unsure of what to do, he just held very still and let her cry. He wished he could do more to comfort her, though, especially when he realized she was talking through her sobs.
“Kas took m...my dolly... s...said I'd never see it 'gain. Said it's my fault Mama's gonna go 'way... said he'd kill Dolly like I'd k...k...killed Mama. But I d...didn't! I don't want Mama to d...d...die!”
Gareth's heart went out to the little girl when he heard that. Not caring about the rules or getting in trouble, he reached down and gently pulled her arms away from his waist, then went to his knees and held his arms out. She was clutching him again in an instant, crying into his shoulder as he held her and gently stroked her blonde curls, silently comforting her. As he held her, Gareth felt an unbelievably strong surge of anger towards Kastor. There was no reason for him to be so cruel! Shanna was probably just as burdened by the impending loss of their mother as Kastor was. And if she was less burdened because of her youth and the fact that she did not know her mother – who had been ill for the whole of Shanna's young life – as well as Kastor did, that was no reason to cause her further grief and pain. And to do something so despicable as blame Shanna for her mother's illness and possible death! At that moment, Gareth would have given anything for the chance to tell Kastor exactly what he thought of him and his bullying ways... preferably with his fists. But that chance would never come, so Gareth supposed he would just have to do his best to comfort and protect Shanna instead, even if it meant deflecting Kastor's anger away from her by making himself more of a target than he already was.
Eventually, Shanna's sobs faded away, and she wriggled out of his arms as she wiped her tears away. “Thank you,” she sniffed, turning away from him, but as he stood up again, she suddenly turned back to him with a very serious look on her face. “You won't tell, will you? That you gave Dolly back to me?”
Gareth shook his head, but that apparently wasn't good enough for her. “What if he orders you to?” she asked. Gareth found that unlikely; in the five years he'd been Kastor's slave, Kastor had never given him permission to speak. But Shanna didn't know that. “Please,” she pleaded, “you hafta promise. You won't tell, no matter what. Please?”
On a whimsical impulse, Gareth turned and looked down at Shanna with a gentle smile. Then, he pantomimed locking his mouth shut with an invisible key, which he solemnly placed in her hand. That made her smile again, and she grabbed him in another fierce hug, which he returned. Then, she let him go and turned to leave the room, the smile still on her face. Still smiling himself, Gareth turned back to the bed, picked up a pile of folded clothes, and headed for the dresser.
“Just what do you think you're doing in my room, ya little brat? And who said you could have that doll back? I told you it's mine now! You don't deserve it, not after what you've done to Mother!”
Gareth froze with his hand on the dresser drawer as he felt Shanna stumble backwards away from the door, then turn and dart past him, heading to the far side of the room away from Kastor, who was now blocking the bedroom door. Gareth made his decision in a split second – because in reality it had been a decision made earlier while comforting a terrified, grief-stricken little girl. As Kastor began to stalk across the room to where Shanna was cowering in a corner, Gareth stepped in front of him, passively blocking his way, hoping to direct his young master's fury onto him instead of Shanna.
“What the hell do you think you're doing, slave? Get out of my way!”
Gareth kept his head down and didn't move. He expected Kastor to slap him, or kick him, then grab the closest solid object and proceed to beat him with it, giving Shanna time to get away. But that wasn't what happened. Instead, Kastor just stopped in front of him and placed one of his feet between Gareth's legs, behind the chain between Gareth's ankles, then pushed Gareth hard in the chest. As Gareth fell, Kastor jerked his leg backward, pulling Gareth's legs out from under him using the hobble chain. Gareth fell to the floor, hard, and as he lay there in a daze, his head ringing, Kastor casually stepped over him and continued advancing on his little sister. Shanna was sobbing in terror now, clutching her doll tightly as she glanced between her brother towering over her and Gareth lying on the floor.
Gareth didn't know later what made him do it – his desire to help Shanna, his anger at Kastor, the small taste of freedom that might have gone to his head – but he decided then and there that, no matter what he had to do or what the consequences were, he was not going to let Kastor lay a hand on Shanna. As Kastor raised his fist to strike his sister, Gareth was on his feet in a split second despite the pain in his head, and he did the unthinkable: he stepped between Kastor and Shanna again and grabbed Kastor's arm.
Once he'd gotten over the shock of what his slave had dared to do, the rage in Kastor's eyes was truly terrifying. But he still tried to shove Gareth aside in order to get at Shanna. Desperate now to become the object of Kastor's attention and his rage, Gareth grabbed Kastor's other arm and pushed him several inches back across the floor; not with the intention of hurting him or making him fall, but simply as a means of letting Kastor know that he wasn't going to let him hurt Shanna.
That finally got Kastor's attention, and he turned the full force of his fury on Gareth. Gareth submitted without a sound as Kastor shoved him to the floor and began to kick him and stomp on him. Then, Kastor reached for the lamp sitting on his bedside table and his eyes fell on the key to Gareth's leash sitting on the table where he'd left it after he'd released Gareth from his chains earlier. He grabbed it, slapped Gareth hard across the face a few times, then unlocked the leash from the bedpost and jerked on it with all his strength. Gareth tried to get up, but Kastor had knocked the wind out of him and his head was spinning from the kicks and blows, so he barely made it to his hands and knees before Kastor began dragging him out of the room. Gareth struggled for breath and scrambled along the floor as Kastor dragged him down the hallway. When they reached the stairs, Gareth didn't try to stop what he knew was going to happen. He just tried to curl into a ball and protect his head as Kastor kicked him in the back and sent him hurtling down the stairs.
Gareth landed hard on his side and heard a cracking sound as he hit the floor. He couldn't get his breath; there were two of everything when he opened his eyes. Including two of Master Teskar, who was standing stunned in the middle of the hall, a few feet from the stairs. Gareth tried to get up, but collapsed at his feet as Kastor stomped down the stairs towards them both. He kicked Gareth again as he stepped over him, then loudly demanded, “Father, this worthless slave has touched me and used force against me without provocation. I demand the overseer give him fifty lashes, then sell him to the mines. Immediately!”
Gareth was stunned by this and so, apparently, was Master Teskar. “Is this true?” he asked as he stared down at Gareth.
Gareth was in too much pain and too winded to speak, but he wouldn't have known what to say even if he could. How could he tell Kastor's father about what Kastor had said to Shanna, or what Kastor had almost done to her? And it wasn't as if his reasons mattered. He had touched his master without permission, and had used force against him. He deserved his punishment – no matter how brutal it was – and he would face his lashes and the rest of his short life in the mines clinging to the faint hope that he had made it so that Kastor would think twice before hurting his sister again. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, submitting to Master Teskar's decision.
“Well, Kastor, if it's as you say, then I have no choice. Marten, please send for the overseer.”
“Wait, Papa, you can't!”
Gareth's heart broke at the sound of that plaintive cry. He didn't want Shanna to see him like this, or to hear or see what was about to happen to him. She had already seen too much today.
“Shanna? Dearheart, what is it?” Teskar asked as she barreled into him, sobbing and begging.
“Don't let Kas hurt him, Papa! He was protecting me! Kas t...took my dolly, and said it was m...my fault that Mama's gonna d...die. He gave Dolly back, and then Kas came in and was gonna hit me and he stopped him. Kas didn't wanna stop, so he h...had to do it. Please don't punish him! Please don't send him away!”
Dead silence fell at that except for Shanna's crying, and the temperature in the room seemed to fall dramatically. “Kastor, is this true?” Teskar finally asked, his voice as cold as ice and hard as stone.
Kastor seemed lost for words for the first time in his life. Finally, he stammered out a noncommittal affirmation before blurting out, “But that doesn't change what he did! He grabbed my arms and pushed me! He's been insubordinate and disobedient and completely useless! I want him punished and I want him gone!”
“Kastor, I am getting rather tired of hearing only about what you want, especially in regards to the treatment of your slave.” Teskar's voice was still cold. “This boy has served you well, is well-trained, and has never willfully disobeyed you, despite the abuse that you have rained down upon his head for five years. That he risked such a willfully disobedient act in order to protect your sister from you tells me all I need to know – about both him and you. You are confined to your room until further notice, Kastor. I will deal with your behavior later. Now go!” He barked those last two words with a fury in his voice that Gareth had never heard before, and hoped he would never hear again.
Kastor was as stunned by his father's words as everyone else was. For the second time in a week, his father had refused him something – something significant. And now he was being punished by more than words for the first time in his life. Gareth watched through slitted and rapidly swelling eyes as Kastor stood the spluttering. “But... but... you can't... I won't! You can't make me!”
“I am your father, Kastor Desmar Crane. I can and I will. Now go to your room!”
And Kastor finally seemed to understand that there was nothing he could do against his father. Gareth was supremely grateful that Master Teskar was keeping his promise to take Kastor in hand – though it came too late to do him any good. Kastor turned back towards the stairs in stunned fury, giving Gareth one last kick in the ribs that left him gasping for breath again, then stalked up to his bedroom. A moment later, the entire household heard the door to his bedroom slam shut.
“Marten,” Master Teskar said softly, “please go upstairs and make sure my son obeys me.” His manservant, who was standing by the front door with the overseer, bowed and headed up the stairs. “Elise, please take Shanna upstairs and give her whatever she wants.” Everyone in the house had been drawn to the entrance hall by the commotion. The cook came forward to take Shanna, who was still clinging to her father, but before she could take the sobbing girl in her arms, Shanna released her father and went to her knees next to Gareth, clutching at him.
“Please don't hurt him, Papa? Please don't send him away?” she pleaded again. “He can be my slave. I promise I'll be good to him, Papa. Please?”
With great affection for his daughter shining in his eyes, Teskar knelt down and stroked Shanna's hair. “Don't worry, dearheart. I won't be sending him away, I promise. And I'll be making sure that Kastor doesn't hurt either of you any more.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she said, releasing Gareth and letting her father pick her up. Once she was given to Celise to look after and had been taken upstairs, Teskar dismissed the rest of the household staff... except for the overseer. Gareth had seen this coming: Master Teskar had promised Shanna that he would not be sent away, but not that he would not be punished.
“I'm sorry, Gareth,” his master said softly as he went to one knee beside Gareth's prone form, “but I must still punish you. You committed an unthinkable violation of my son's person, and he was well within his rights to get exactly what he asked for. But his treatment of his sister was unbelievably cruel, and I know you were just doing whatever you had to to protect her, so I will be lenient. Can you stand?”
Gareth wasn't sure if he could, but he tried anyway. It was extremely painful – he was all over bruises, several of them severe, and he suspected that he had a concussion and several cracked ribs – but he managed to stand. He did not have the strength to prepare himself for what he knew was coming, but he accepted it all the same. He had been resigned to this fate from the moment he had chosen to protect Shanna from Kastor. He limped slowly across the room to the front door behind Master Teskar, who handed his leash to the overseer when they reached him.
“Ten lashes, Mister Darran,” he said simply, and the overseer nodded. Gareth hung his head and focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he was led out of the house, through the front garden, and down to the yard in front of the barn that housed the field slaves. In a place of prominence in that yard were two tall wooden posts, standing in parallel several feet apart, with chains dangling from their tops and coiled at their bases.
The overseer removed the leash from Gareth's collar, his shirt, and the chain from between his ankle shackles, then grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and shoved him into position between the posts. Gareth's arms were raised up and stretched out painfully as the chains on top of each post were locked to the shackles on his wrists. Then the same was done to his legs as his ankle shackles were connected to the lower chains. He hung there, spread-eagle, all his weight on his shoulders, each breath short and labored as the agony in his chest increased a thousand-fold. Every second of waiting was an eternity; he watched through slitted, swollen eyes as all the field slaves and the entire household staff – everyone on the entire plantation, in fact, except for Kastor, Shanna, Marten, and Celise – assembled in the yard to watch his punishment. It was expected, Gareth knew. He had watched many such punishments himself – usually given to field slaves for shirking their duties or attempting to escape – but this was the first time he had ever been on the receiving end of the overseer's whip. He was expecting to hear Master Teskar's voice at any moment, explaining to everyone why this worthless slave was being punished, but the explanation never came. Only one word was spoken.
“Begin.”
Gareth's mind was so muddled from pain and lack of air that the command did not even register with him until the first lash had already laid his back open. He screamed in agony; it felt as if he had been split in two. And with each measured, precise stroke, the pain increased exponentially. Soon, Gareth didn't have the breath to cry out in pain any more. He convulsed violently with every blow, gasping for air. His vision narrowed to a point of painful, strobing light, then went completely black. He was sure he was dying... no one could survive this...
Then, suddenly, it was all over. The strokes that had been splitting him asunder ceased, and he felt his arms and legs being released from their chains. But the pain remained, and he found he still couldn't see or breathe. He collapsed to the ground, still screaming even though he had no voice left, wishing for an end to the unbearable agony. He could feel it coming, even as voices surrounded him and hands lifted him up. The darkness became all-encompassing, and he welcomed painless oblivion with open arms.