The day began warm and clear. A gentle summer breeze drifting languidly in from the West bringing scents of delicate Peonies, pungent Meadow Hawthorn and delicious, wild Sulac berries. A day for wandering the sweet grasslands, a day for exploring leafy vales, a day for deep draughts from cool, crystal-clear pools. But by the end of this day, I would be dead.
Long have we travelled together my master and I. Since I was a young-un he was there. Often he would shun the music and company of the ‘big house’ to visit on us, bringing sweet treats and fruit.
The barn that was home to my brothers and I was nice enough I suppose, but how I longed for the freedom of the outdoors. The wind ruffling my hair, the moist earth beneath my feet and the cold mountain springs to quench a thirst; that’s where I’d put myself given the choice.
But such choices are not mine to make. Not mine or any other of my family, for we are property; possessions of a wealthy family. Wealthy, at least, by the standards of what they consider valuable. To a slave the only thing of value is his freedom.
I could have run; escaped their fences and bolted away into the night. They might not have found me. Then again they’ve men that’d follow, reading the footfalls in the turf and the odd broken twig. They can follow foxes! What chance would I have had?
They’d have found me alright. Then it’d have been the cold metal round the neck and a short life, straining at the plough ‘til my strong back broke or my heart burst in my body. No glory in that.
In spite of all that, I’d have run. Maybe I’d have made it. I would have run. See my spirits not broken by the whip like so many of the others. My sprit still burns like fire inside and at times carries me on so I feel like I’m barely touching the ground. If I’d have run I‘d have lead them a merry chase before they caught me up that’s for sure. But I stayed for him. I stayed for my master.
Such kindness in one so young is rare, and us with nothing between us. No debt owed, him master, me slave.
More than once did he throw himself over me as protection when the whip was about to fall. They laughed at him and mocked of course; his father even scalding him as “closer to us than to his kin”.
Once, I was left bound to a stake as punishment for lashing out at one of the stable-hands. Outside I was, in the middle of winter! No blanket to protect me from the bite of the snow. A punishment indeed! He’d had it coming for many a season.
Well there I was shivering to my bones and starting to fade, when what do I hear but the soft patter of the master’s feet. Naked and shoeless he was tip-toeing across the yard in the dead of night, and still only a nipper at that.
Unshackling me, he helps me to the barn, bids me lay down and covers me with hay and blankets. There he stands all night and lets no-one within a wagon's length.
I can see him now, stood in the door, pitch-fork in hand and as naked as the day he was born. Not ten years old and not one of the servants would come near him. Those that tried their luck got snarled at and poked for their trouble. Proper wild he was! Eventually the Lord was sent for to calm him. I feared a terrible scene, but strike me down if the ol’ fella didn’t just fall about laughin’ and order hot broth to be fetched. For the both of us!
Well it was after that I was gifted to him. It was obvious to all that there was a bond between us. So it was, and that day I swore that I’d spend the rest of my days serving the little master how best I could.
Some years passed from that time and many an adventure we had. Always would we ride out together as inseparable as two peas in a pod.
Even rode to war together we did. That was a fearful time I don’t mind admitting now. Blood was on the wind, and lots more beside. There was many such as me close to panic, but my master just laid his calming hand on my head, looked in my eyes and said “I have no plans to leave you this day old friend, and I’d take it as a courtesy if you’d do likewise”. And that was that.
Many are the tales I could tell of our travels and scrapes; perhaps another time.
At the end it was as it had always been; him and me charging across the open ground at a full tilt. Bearing down on that Tower of Lead with a hail of arrows and javelins falling all around us; thunder and lightening leaping from the sky and them Red Moon worshiping filth on the battlements with ‘em. It was one of their priests that had the final say. No clean death for me, no lance through the heart or arrow through the lungs. Devil magic! Red magic, sent forth from some demon to pluck my life from me as easy as plucking berries from a bush.
What will they say of me? Was I the greatest or noblest? I fear not. Was I fastest or strongest? Alas none of these. Was I loyal? Aye, that I was. Did I do all that I could to serve my master well? That I did too, and saved his life on more than one occasion. Will I be remembered? I will. Master will bare my name in his heart for all the days of his life. The name of Sasha will live on!