Thorn Rose (PUBLISHED)

Chapter 9 - Knowledge

*This book was pulished in 2015 but will be free for a month. Enjoy!*

"Don't cry my child; all humans are born sinners. It is our obligation to amend this fault. If your parents chose this life for you, embrace it. Do you think those in the bottom stratum of society are living a life they consciously decided on?" He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Even they have faith. It is possible for them to buy their freedom. Be patient, Faylin, for He has a better path for you. Being a bride of Christ is a blessing, not a curse"

Those were Father Mannus' exact words eleven summers ago.

Faylin frowned, deep in thought.

She never doubted his words, or His purposes. If what Father Mannus said is true that means hope prevails! A way to escape this place.

Could she buy her freedom?

But how?

The creaking sound of a wooden door opening brought Faylin out of her reverie and she rushed forward, following the woman with short-cropped hair into the room. Confused, she looked behind her, into the central corridor. The other woman had disappeared without her having taken notice.

She took a deep breath, and then sighed. Lately, this is all I seem to do - a lot of thinking and little doing. I will need to be more careful from now on.

Stopping in the middle of the spacious surrounding, her eyes darted around, quickly taking everything in. It was an expensively furnished room. There was a large piece of embroidery hanging on the wall above a wooden bed topped with furs and a silken quilt.

"Come, sit. Let me treat your leg." The girl offered.

Faylin blinked rapidly a few times before finding her voice. "You speak Welsh fairly easily," she said, moving towards the mattress as she spoke. "Tell me, why didn't you say a word before?"

The woman turned her back to Faylin. "Hiltrude, the other girl you met, is a newly acquired slave." She walked over to three oak chests, all flushed against a wall. "She does everything to please our mistress. In answer to your question, everything you do here is seen and everything you say, heard."

Faylin understood right then this Hiltrude wasn't to be trusted. Sighing, she sat on the bed, watching the woman bring over a small jar. "And you?" Faylin asked, pausing as the woman crouched in front of her. She remembered that she still did not know her name.

"You can call me Adda," Adda said, opening the jar.

Almost instantly, a pungent smell came out of it. Faylin covered her nose with one hand; the other gently reaching out to stop Adda's from touching her lent linen dress. "Well, Adda, how can I know you can be trusted?"

Adda looked up and raised an eyebrow. A small smile appeared on her face. "No wonder Jarl Tore has taken an interest in you..."

"Faylin," she replied, ignoring Adda's suggestion.

Adda nodded and chuckled. "Don't worry; I can turn blind and deaf for those I'm loyal to."

Faylin allowed the woman to lift the dress until her knee. The skin was still red but less swollen now after her warm bath.

"How do you speak Welsh so well?"

There many questions Faylin wanted to ask. However, she knew many would remain as they were: unanswered.

Only time would tell which side this loyalty lay, Faylin thought as Adda's finger tips smeared a thick green paste on carefully.

"I learned it from my previous owner. Lady Turid bought me because an educated slave can be useful to have around."

Adda wrapped a cloth around Faylin's knee, finishing the task with a knot above. Faylin glanced at the iron collar around her neck.

The word owner, made her clench her teeth; it was cruel and humiliating. They treated them like domesticated animals! She was certain that sooner or later she, too, would feel the sheer weight of it.

"What about the man who kidnapped me?" The woman sighed, standing up, "If you don't want a scarred back I suggest for you to call him Jarl Tore from now on. Anyway, besides his native tongue, Jarl Tore knows Welsh and Gaelic. It comes in handy when trading and administrating." Lowering her eyes, Faylin swallowed as the thought of her flesh being peeled off her back entered her mind.

The sound of light footsteps made her look towards the door. It was Hiltrude carrying a square wooden tray. There was a bowl, a glass vessel and bread on it. Faylin's stomach growled at the pleasant smell that invaded her nostrils.

She watched the woman walk to the table next to the window. After placing the tray down, she sauntered away. Faylin's lips pressed into a thin line.

"Eat, Faylin. You must keep your strength up," Adda said walking towards the door.

"Wait! W-when you said Hiltrude does everything to please her mistress, did you mean Tu-Lady Turid?"

Adda looked at her and then gave her a sympathetic smile.

"There are far worse people, Faylin. I can assure you Lady Turid isn't one of them," Adda said, watching as a frown appeared on the young woman's face before closing the door. She sighed.

"And history repeats itself" the slave whispered to herself.