The Tattooed Princess

Passionate Preparations to Escape

        Branka spent many days and nights in the company of her friend, Svetlana, as she healed from her dagger wound. Most of what they discussed was the subject of love, and how a young woman's heart was her most vulnerable place. She told the recovering Svetlana that before her attack and even now, while she healed physically, her own seeing of Moshtok every day in the comfort of his home had been painful to her, as well. She told her fellow slave how once when Moshtok was sleeping she leaned over him and kissed him on the cheek. And how the fearful act gave her the most irresistible and erotic dreams she had ever had.

            Knowing Moshtok was admired by his community and was himself an eligible young man with the local women, some being close to Sharvur's court, her being a mere servant to him precluded his interests in having any affair with her. And that was also how Svetlana saw Branka's unfortunate plight with Moshtok. Branka, however, defended the slight and hopeful possibility they might be together someday romantically. She told her of how Moshtok loved to speak to her in her own Slavic tongue which he had learned as a boy while himself abducted during a reprisal raid against the Scythian tribes.

        She told her ailing friend how at times she could see in Moshtok's eyes that he desired her, and looked upon her body while she worked over him. This, according to her, he was especially doing now, while for the most part healed and beginning to go out of his home again.

            Svetlana listened with concern for Branka, for she knew of what she had to endure being Sharvur's bedroom slave. How cruel and unpredictable he could be. Svetlana had heard the stories of her exploits in Sharvur's bed—the humiliation, the painful games, and could find no comparison to the way she had been treated fairly and lovingly by Murka in his own bed. It was difficult for Svetlana to discuss her past months with the hero without her crying over what now was certain to be the loss of him forever.

            "How can a man be so caring to you? So patient and giving . . . without love? Without love being a part of him . . . for you?"

            Branka just worked quietly while listening to her, washing the ugly gash on Svetlana's side and going about changing the wrapping of the injury.  

            "It was so easy for me to love the pleasure Murka brought me," Svetlana would say. "And which I brought to him. I never knew our bodies were capable of feeling those amazing things. There were nights I even cried following the pleasure, as it had been so great and fulfilling. And yet, I always knew there was something missing as I lay in his arms

        Branka refused to look up.

        "So when he returned from the mission, I brought that missing thing  with me, finally to his bed. It was love, Branka. Love! And for this . . . I was nearly murdered.

            "Yes, " Branka said judiciously. "And it was by his mate, Svetlana. The mother of his children. We must understand her feelings for this man as being as great. Possibly much greater than yours. Though you are not to blame. It was your duty as a slave to be with him. To do the things men do to us. It is Love is to blame for your condition now."

            Branka could see tears welling up in Svetlana's eyes. Not from the pain beneath the bandages but from deeper inside and threatening to never heal.

            "I just miss him so."

         "Svetlana, we cannot expect this life we were given to ever be fair . . . not so far from our homeland. That can only come if we escape. To somehow return to the west and the land of our peaceful people. I miss so much the smell of fresh bread. To see sheep in the fields and to dance in the villages to celebrate the seasons."