Chapter 17

"Okay, Ædven is gone, so I think it is safe for me to add a little bit of context to her story," another voice says. I look in the direction of the voice and see that it is one of the older theows that speaks.

"I haven't been here nearly as long as Ædven, but I am among the first that got taken from a visitor group. I am Leann, it means "servant of John". That was who I was, at first."

I'm surprised to hear that. Maybe I will get some more answers after all.

"It started even when Earl John was still alive. If he saw any of us that had a particular skill, he wanted to recruit them. I declined. I had no need to stay here forever, no matter what he offered. He was impressed by my weaving and my skills in making fabric. Apparently, that was one of the things they struggled with at the time, since the person who had been in charge of that had just died. I declined, yet as you can probably guess, that didn't stop them. I went to bed like normal, yet when I woke up, I was in a cage. No matter how much I tried to protest, they refused to let me out. I had already foolishly told them that I had no family that waited for me, so they knew they were safe in that regard.

John spun the other guests a tale, that I had taken ill in the night and needed to be hastened to the hospital. A story they keep telling, if anyone notices a member of their group is gone. Few have ever questioned that.

I tried to hold out, to resist, yet after a while I had to give in. Already then, I noticed that it was the Lady that was in charge of most of the punishments. She later told me that it had been her idea to force me to remain behind. John had been so distraught that I declined his offer, she had told him that he had the ability to make me stay no matter what I wanted.

So, I took over the process of making the fabric, from carding and spinning the wool to sewing the fabric into suitable clothes. It wasn't a terrible way to live, after the initial shock had passed. At least that's what I keep telling myself. My biggest achievement is that I make many of the dresses the Lady wears for non-visitor days. The nice ones, in silk, she gets from elsewhere. It is one of the few things we ever get from the outside world.

Earl John continued doing this, recruiting people he found useful. Some were swayed by his arguments. Some agreed to what they thought was a seasonal thing, then realized too late that he had meant forever. But they all resigned to their fate eventually. The few who did not either died trying to escape or from being restrained for too long. Earl John was always sad when someone died, but the Lady always found a way to explain why they had done something to deserve it, or how it was their own fault."

I'm even more fascinated by the story Leann tells. Combined with Ædven's story, it gives a fairly accurate picture of what had happened here. How it had gradually changed from a sort of commune dedicated to replicating life in Anglo-Saxon England to becoming a slave-based society.

"It didn't really go downhill until Earl John died. The Lady was inconsolable, they had truly loved one another. Unfortunately, she tried to keep the place going exactly as earl John had done it, but she didn't have his way with people. More and more, she had to resort to threats and violence. The first time she used the stretch-neck was when someone messed up the dinner for the visitors. After that, it quickly became a standard punishment. I don't think any of us has escaped being placed in it at least once, even Ædven. The whipping and slave collars came soon after, when the Lady started to pick her own visitors to hold back. She may not have the same eye as earl John to see who has the most talent, but she definitely has an eye for those with the skills she finds useful, those who agree with her way of doing things, and for seeing who will not be missed. One prime example is Morcefres, the executioner. He came as a regular visitor, but the Lady saw that he enjoyed the more violent parts of the performance. A theow named Wynflæd had the bad luck of getting on the Lady's bad side during that visit. Morcefres had to be stopped from throwing rocks at her, when the Lady placed her in the stretch-neck. The next day, the Lady introduced him by the new name and said that he was hired as an executioner and that he was in charge of punishment from now on. With him, the Lady's tendency towards sadomasochism came out in full force. If Morcefres had his way, we would all be in a lot worse conditions. He trains the churls personally and selects the ones that seem the most prone to violence to be his helpers, while the Lady gives the other jobs, such as her personal guard, or securing the perimeter. Gender doesn't matter, they treat us all the same. Those raised to the status of churls have either been here so long that they believe the stories, like Ædven, or have shown that they don't mind the abuse of others, as long as it isn't themselves that get hurt. New ones are trained sporadically. That has been the way for many years now."

As Leann's story also came to a close, I feel that I understand it more. The Lady is a bit like me, she has lost the one person in this world she cared about. The difference is that she is in charge of other people and has almost unlimited power over what she can do with them. With us. Then she found Morcefres, who gave her an outlet for that sorrow. And we are the ones paying the prize.

"Why aren't you fighting back? There are more of us than them." Kaneez says.

"You need to be careful with words like that. I won't tattle on you, but others might. I suppose that is your answer. There is no way to know who to trust. Besides, where would we go? They always set up in a remote area, several hours away from the nearest village by any vehicle. Can you imagine anyone escaping from there on foot, while they have vehicles? Many have tried, both on foot or trying to steal one of the cars. No one has ever succeeded. Did you see the heads on top of the gates? I don't want to join them."

Kaneez doesn't say anything after that. She probably realizes that no one agrees with her, or at least that no one else dares to say it out loud.