Kenna

02. HOPELESS

Kenna loved traveling. Some of her favorite premarital memories evolved around the times she accompanied her father on business trips within and beyond Weamel. The amazing views, a business man's unsuccessful attempt at defrauding her father and penny-pinching conferences. She enjoyed every moment.

This road trip was unlike any other. As days blended into weeks, Kenna watched parts of her life chiseled away. A scream of terror, a whimper of fear, a noisy fart, the sound of retching and a dying gasp, the laughter of merchants; was all she could hear in the dark fog of despair that covered her like a wet blanket.

She folded her legs to make space for her traveling companions and keep warm. Some slaves huddled together to generate heat. Kenna stayed separate from the germ infested cocktail. She rubbed her hands together instead as she tried to imagine more pleasant circumstances. Her sanity depended on it. With each bump of the wheels on a stone or into a hole, the imagined scenario faded till she was forced to face reality. Old things were passed away, a new life of servitude awaited. And her bottom ached. Badly.

Looking up in the distance, Kenna saw a  house. Tall and wide in height and width, with stained glass windows overlooking the entry way and tall trees that stretched for miles on both sides. Causerie among the slaves in the wagon nourished by snippets of overheard discussions between the merchants informed her, that this house was their final destination. The Bastilis Mansion or so it was called, Kenna could not find it in her to care. As long as she survived to see more lights of day, she could care less if the merchants dropped them off in a hovel.

The wagon slowed to a snail's pace as they approached the house. She felt uncertain of the new life that awaited her.
         "If only I had a house this huge." One of the slaves around her said. The others turned to him with eyes that said "shut up before I strangle you!"

Kenna fought the urge to snicker at the thought that technically, his wish would come true. This house would be their home for the rest of their lives.  Whenever it ends.

Crawling out of the crammed wagon shared with 19 others was a bitter sweet experience. Her joints were stiff and her clothes stank of sweat and grime but the relief of inhaling fresh air not tainted by the smell of week old filth was overwhelming.
Kenna shivered in disgust and surprise when her feet sunk into mud. My shoes! She pushed through the crowd as she made a beeline for the wagon. They were there, she was sure of it, but felt uncertain if she lost the pair in the struggle to evacuate the wagon or she was barefoot and did not realize it due to the warm cocoon of dirty bodies. She was close to the wagon when a thump to the back of her head stopped her in her tracks. Palming the affected area to ease the sting, she turned to face the culprit.

  "Where do you think you are going?" One of the merchants asked, his right hand gripping tighter on a thick, long and painful looking stick. The cause of the headache blooming in her skull.

'Imbecile,' Kenna cursed under her breath, 'i wish that stick could come to life and beat you to death.'

  "I forgot my shoes, sir." She said aloud. "They are in the wagon. Right there..." She pointed at it, feeling a little apprehensive as the man glanced at her, with a sneer that exposed his tobacco stained teeth. She wished she never turned back to the wagon. Another hit from that stick was not worth her worn pair of shoes. She stared at the stick in his hand, half expecting it to lift, when the man spoke.

  "What are you here for... A picnic?" He scoffed. "You do not need any fancy shoes where you are headed." Turning to the other merchants and slaves who stopped to witness the spectacle, he said, "Arrange them in two lines. She is waiting at the courtyard."

His dark eyes roved over the crowd before setting on Kenna. "Get in line, girlie."

            ***************

At the back quadrangle, a podgy stern faced woman waited to receive the slaves. She introduced herself as Ms. Fina, the lady in -charge of the slaves.

She arranged them in groups of four before delegating the responsibilities of each group. Kenna's group was to join in washing the curtains, sweeping the courtyard, preparing lunch and tending the gardens.

Kenna began contemplating just how she could do those chores and still have time for herself when she heard sniffles from a girl at her side.

She turned to the girl.
"You have to keep quiet. Tears drain your energy and you need it to work. Besides you might get into trouble if you keep that up."

Kenna knew her words were harsh but it seemed to work as the girl sobered. She turned around to see Ms. Fina in front of her.

"How old are you, girl?"

Kenna was trepidant."I am 19 moons, my lady."

"You look like a trouble maker." The woman scanned her features with a gleam in her eyes, "I will be watching you closely."

Kenna sighed and looked down at her feet in a semblance of humility. "I understand, my lady."

"You will all refer to me as Ms. Fina. Unless I say otherwise," The woman gave Kenna a parting glance before adding, "which will never happen so do not dream of it." She turned to a group of uniformed men in the corner."Get them out of my sight and settle them in their stations."

Kenna mulled over Ms. Fina's actions as the guards pulled and pushed the slaves in different directions. It was strange, different and it worried her. She shelved her thoughts for later as she noticed the slaves in her group, heading away from the house in the company of a guard. She frowned and quickened her pace to catch up with them.
   "What is going on?" She asked one of them.

A girl beside her spoke without looking.    "The man in the uniform said we start working today. So he is showing us to a pond some distance from the house, for cleaning purposes."

  "Not bad..." Kenna sighed, wiggling her toes for comfort from pricky pebbles. She needed shoes!

As if the girl could feel her discomfort, she said, "He also made mention of some boots." She paused to blow her nose into her hand and cleaned the mucus on her skirt. "There are boots at the pond, and a change of clothing for all of us."

"Thank you for telling me." Kenna gave the girl a tight-lipped smile and continued walking. She was not bothered about changing outfits at the pond, not when she could hide behind a tree. She looked around at the trees. Her friends in this mess.
  
                 *******************

The first few weeks of servitude were torturous for Kenna and her work routine made things worse. Wake up, work till past noon, shove a measly meal of leftovers down her throat if she was lucky enough and back to work.

She was tired of it all.

As she lay to rest one night on her bed of threadbare sheets, she mulled over her life and its direction or lack of one. Her body was aching and the skin on her hands had toughened from hours of labour. 

For a moment, she wondered how her story would begin if it were to be written. A story of how a woman's hope and dreams of love and laughter were dashed by one man's greedy ambition.

Christobal's actions did put her in this mess, but he wouldn't have married her if her father hadn't given his consent and she hated him for it.

No, she hated them...

Both of them.

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 Thank you for reading ❤️.