"She calls her Slavemaster," said the one, gripping her tightly. "He
favors her. You're going to die for sure, pretty one, after we've had
our way with you."
"Oh God, please help me!!" Si'Wren screamed like a lost soul, sensing
her doom upon her as supreme fear overcame her and she crumpled,
sagging nervelessly in the man's irresistible grasp.
"Shut up!" he gritted tightly, striking her a series of stunning blows
across the face delivered alternately with the open palm and the bony
back of his hand.
"Aye, she must die alright," said the second. "Her very identity must
be hid, lest Rababull's Slavemaster should find out. Hurry and let us
be done quickly with her, before someone else comes along!"
"Wise words--spoken too late to do you any good!" suddenly declared a
deep voice.
Si'Wren whirled her head around, and watched disbelieving as out of the
shadows of the mists stepped the shadowy and indistinct figure of a
powerfully built man with a golden bronze sword gleaming in his hand.
"Habrunt!" Si'Wren shrieked desperately as, reeling from the blows, she
struggled anew and stared.
"We've got swords!" the first young man declared nervously and
self-importantly, "and our fathers are high-born. You're a slave! You
better run along home, before we decide to report you to your master."
Habrunt said nothing.
"The girl is not half as willing as the others," the second one said
offensively.
"Aye, she's worthless, like you," the first one laughed contemptuously.
"Here, see for yourself!" Still gripping Si'Wren by the upper arms, he
suddenly flung her forward in the direction of Habrunt, so violently
that she stumbled and fell to her knees before him.
"We didn't want her anyways," the second chipped in, emboldened by
Habrunt's continued silence. "She's far too ugly."
Habrunt stepped forward until he had come just past Si'Wren's kneeling
figure, with her head still downcast in shame, and then he halted
again, standing protectively between Si'Wren and her two tormentors now.
"What is she to you, anyways?" said the first young man. He was already
growing nervous because of Habrunt's refusal to reply. "Here," the
young man said, dipping into his money satchel, "I'll pay you for her;
twenty, no, thirty pieces of silver! You can keep her in the bargain.
What's the matter with you? My money's as good as anyone else's! Go on,
take it!"
Habrunt took another menacing step forward, as he slowly raised his
gleaming sword.
"Take it!" the young man repeated, in a high voice. He waved his sword
in the air in a series of menacing arcs, which Habrunt seemed not to
notice. "Keep the girl and take all of it! What do you want of us?!"
"Aye! Leave us out of it! You'll be sorry for this! Our fathers--"
Habrunt's sword abruptly flashed in the night in a swift series of
arcs, to the accompaniment of a succession of metallic clangs followed
by several meaty whacks and the cut-off screams of the two young men.
There was no more sound for a moment, except for the sliding of a sword
blade on the clothing of they who had been destroyed. Then she heard
the sound of footsteps, as Habrunt turned back to her. In his right
hand was the money pouch that had been offered to him, and in his other
was his sword. He switched hands, and hurled the money pouch into the
night. Far off the trail, Si'Wren heard the distant clink of the money
when it landed. Their swords quickly followed, and Si'Wren heard the
swish of grass as they landed unseen in the darkness.
She remained kneeling in despair, waiting for Habrunt to pronounce
judgement upon her. Now what was to become of her, for her broken vow
of silence?
Then she felt his hands touch her shoulders, so gently that the fear
with which she was shaken was transformed into surprise and numbed
disbelief.
"Little one," said Habrunt, his voice heavy but full of compassion.
"Are you alright?"
"Oh Habrunt," Si'Wren lamented, her voice a whimper. "I have betrayed
my vow of silence to the Invisible God! I am worthless, and now I shall
be punished by the Master!"
But Habrunt knelt down beside her, and shook his head slowly.
"Not so," he said. "Come."
He helped her rise to her feet, and began leading her back towards the
House compound.
"But I did!" she persisted, leaning on him for support as she walked,
for she seemed to be hurt worse than she had first supposed. "In the
very confession of my sin, I betray my vow of silence, my sworn oath
given before the Invisible God, to you and Master Rababull!"
"Then stop talking," Habrunt said mildly, still leading her confidently
through the night, as the moon cast it's glow through the swirling
mists.
"How can you say that?" Si'Wren said. Then she blurted out, "Have you
no sense of right and wrong?"
"I am as good a keeper of the law as any," said Habrunt.
"Aye, and you slew those two evil men, who would have taken me upon
their lusts, and cast me aside afterward as lifelessly as you have done
unto them instead."
"Because they struck you without cause," Habrunt replied. "And also,
lest they betray the truth of your broken vow of silence."
To Si'Wren, Habrunt's second remark seemed an astonishing thing to say.
"Then--" she hesitated in confusion, "you shall be as guilty as I! You
must not do this thing."
"It is already done. If not for my foolishness, you had not taken such
a vow in the first place."
"But--I did vow."
"Aye. Tell me this, little one; who shall speak of it when we return,
seeing how you have taken this vow of silence?"
"I--" This time, Si'Wren could not think of what to say, so perplexing
and marvelous were his words.
"Aye," Habrunt assented. "I am as guilty as you. But am I not
Slavemaster of the House of Rababull? My word is final. Not even Master
Rababull can overturn my decision, for behold, I have covered the sins
of yourself, that by my own guilt you may be counted innocent before
all. Who then shall gainsay me in this? The Invisible God? Aye, and may
He ever be the right and true judge of all, more so than even the high
and mighty noble Master Rababull. Methinks the Invisible One shall but
praise me in the justice of what has transpired tonight."
Si'Wren listened mystified to all of this, and when she had heard all,
she found that Habrunt's strange words eased her conscience, having
such an effect upon her that she found herself wishing to be loosed
from Master Rababull and bound to Habrunt instead. But to imagine such
was rank foolishness, for Habrunt and all that he had or ever would
have; did they not already belong to Master Rababull? One might as well
wish for the moon.
Still reeling from the blows she had received, Si'Wren planted a
misstep in his path as she staggered into Habrunt, and would have
fallen if he had not caught her.
Without the slightest sign of visible effort, Habrunt dipped down and
scooped her up into his arms, cradling her tenderly as he looked down
into her beaten face.
His anger was gone now, and he was thinking about what must be said
when he returned with her to the compound. Since he was not a talkative
man in the first place, it would not seem out of character if he said
nothing at all and let others do all the talking amongst themselves.
That way, they could freely invent their own explanations to their
hearts' content and might even think of a better answer than he could.
The two young men would be missed, but those who went a wandering so
drunkenly into the wilds of the land as if to a fool's paradise would
be said by many to deserve the sorry fate they had so evidently brought
upon themselves. Even knowing the truth, Habrunt could readily agree to
this.
He had checked them out when they had left earlier of their own accord,
taking two of the traveling harlots from the caravan with them as
playthings. Habrunt had thought poorly of the midnight excursion even
then, before he had the slightest inkling that it was to eventually
involve Si'Wren. However, the two young men were freeborn and of age,
and it would have been rank insubordination for Habrunt to have uttered
the slightest contradiction to their plans.
It was when Si'Wren had slipped out, that he had commanded a nearby
guard to take over, so he could follow her.
An expert tracker, Habrunt had been alert enough to notice the trail
signs and discovered the two hapless slave girls which the two young
men had taken with them, a short distance from the gates. There in the
dark, by the colorless light of a full moon obscured by heavy night
mists, Habrunt had located the remains of the two unfortunate harlots
from the caravan.
He almost wished he hadn't, because of what he found.
The women had evidently been abused and mistreated most evilly, as by
devils, and then murdered and discarded like playthings to be tossed
into the bushes by the wayside. For Habrunt, the manner of their deaths
was even now something to live on in his nightmares.
Since their money and the valuable swords they had brought were
unlikely to be found and would be noticed to be missing, the deaths of
the two young men could easily be credited to bandits. Habrunt held his
own sword awkwardly as he cradled Si'Wren in his arms.
It was his own absence, and the badly beaten physical condition of
Si'Wren, which must somehow endure the gainsayings of others, and which
concerned him the most now. Let them talk on, and wonder, and dream but
once of a fitting explanation according to their own dim lights, and by
their own mouths would they deceive themselves.