Chapter One:

Freedom

They beat the ones they recapture and throw them in here. That what they do to people like me—prisoners caught for an untimely death. It’s strange that I feel so old and yet my body doesn’t look weathered: still the robust flesh of youth, darkened to brown by the sun and scarred with years of beatings. I woke with an agonizing headache. A shaft of sunlight barely lights up the outline of a girl, whose purple eyes I’ll always see filled with soft anger. A boy, Yrel, lies beside me; his face pinched and worn, unlike any boy should look. A draft comes from the bars that keep us in the wagon and I turn to look outside. Streets soaked with sunlight, people staring at us, their faces filled with horror and curiosity. I blinked at them and sat up from my position on the floor. Did they just carry me and dump me in here like a dead rat? Because my whole body screamed. I groaned in pain and used the bars to drag myself up into a position, drawing my knees up to my chest. My clothes were covered in dirt and grime and I had somehow lost my boots. The whole wagon smelt like unwashed bodies and, there was a part of me that longed to be clean but the prospect of fresh water and soap—the prospect itself—was highly unlikely.

I stopped counting the days of the months long ago. Because counting down the months also meant counting down the days until I was dead, my back lashed and bleeding, hanging from a tree. It makes me sick to know that one day the people around me…I’ll soon be seeing them like that.

The creaking of the wagon stopped and there was a rattling sound. Other prisoners scrambled to be out first, to get a taste of the sun on their faces, their skin before death. We’d come to a square with a wooden platform. There was no hangman’s noose in sight. Guards in armor wrenched us out of the cart one by one. The girl glanced at me, her face white. I met her eyes and she took my hand in an iron grip. In a soft humble voice, she said. “Don’t let me die, Jasper.”

I squeezed her hand. “We won’t die, Jocasta. We won’t.”

I can see the men plan on selling us as slaves first, to see if they can get a bit of coin from us—and if not, we’re to see the noose. I was dragged out by dirty, strong hands and chained. I didn’t fight. A crowd gathered but I held my head high. My steps were followed by the chink of chains, proclaiming my fate. But I’d stopped caring a long time ago. I was numb. Two guards held me down as another pulled a fistful of my hair back, exposing my throat. A man in white robes addressed the large crowd that gathered. “ The boy’s name is Jasper. Formerly in the possession of Frederick Del Cooper. Strong and hardworking at the ripe age of twelve, and apparently very quiet.” “Do I hear anything?”

“Two hundred pieces.” A man whispered.

“Two hundred, right here.” The man gestured wildly. “Do I hear three?”

Shifting a little, I winched under the sun’s hot glare. The guards tightened their grip on my shoulders and I suddenly felt very exposed. The searching eyes of the crowd bore into me like a thousand knives being thrust into my skin, watching my every move, studying me. These men were sick. They were putting a price on human life.

“Three!” A deep male voice called.

“Four!” Another called.

“Release him.” I looked into the crowd. Everyone turned to a male in white breeches, blue tunic and white shirt. I couldn’t see his face but figured if he wanted me to hang then I’ll do it myself. The man came forward and I froze, wary. Amber-brown eyes blazed in an unshaven, narrow face.

The man in white looked surprise. “What?”

“You’re selling this boy as a slave?” The man gestured to me.

“It would seem so, sir. Why?”

“I’ll take him then. How much?” The stranger replied.

The man in white pursed his lips. “You heard the crowd. Four hundred pieces for the boy.”

“That’s asking a bit much, for a poorly treated prisoner don’t you think? You didn’t cart him properly nor clothe him in clean clothes…”

The man sighed, “Fine. Three hundred pieces.”

“Let us say one hundred gold pieces and the boy is freed. Do we have a bargain?”

The man in white grabbed my wrist. “Just take the damn boy and go!” He threw me at my new master and turned to address the new prisoner. I lay stunned on the ground, throbbing. The stranger tossed the silver coins at someone’s feet and picked me up. My heart was still in my throat when the man lifted me onto his black horse, draping a blanket over me. “Let’s get home.” He said, his eyes softening, “What’s your name?”

“J-Jasper, sir.” I pulled the blanket tighter around me.

“Do you have a family? A home?” The stranger began leading his horse through the streets.

I looked at him as if he were mad. I hadn’t had a family since my mother died. The rest of my family—only the gods knew where they were now. The man took the hint and didn’t ask any more questions. “Name’s Orrin by the way.” He took something out of the saddlebags: A folded kerchief. He passed something to me and I took it and bit. My mouth began to water as the sweet cream filled my mouth. Licking my lips and fingers, I ate in dutiful silence. We rode past the town, into the more grassy areas, similar to mountain country where all you can see is grass for miles and miles around. Bees buzzed in the clusters of bluebells and violets and pansies and the sun shone brightly, low in the pale sky.

Orrin, his hand shading his eyes, suddenly smiled as we came over a hill. “Look there.” He pointed. We were coming to a small cottage-like building with a small garden and a green pasture full of horses. “You’d like it here.” Orrin continued.

I gathered my courage and spoke. “Why’d you buy me if not to send me to work, sir?”

Orrin laughed which was a surprise. “You seemed like too good a soul. I bought you to free you,” He looked at me, “Besides, you can’t put a price on life itself.”

I nodded and clumsily dismounted. I flinched, waiting for a blow, but it didn’t come and Orrin gestured for me to come with him. I followed him, a step behind as I’d always followed my former masters but Orrin waited for me. “We are equals—walk with me not behind.” He walked to the stables and walked inside the stall. As he took off the beautiful stallion’s saddle and bridle, I stood awaiting an order. “Brush him down.” Or “Pitch hay into the stall will you?” Something like that. But all I got was, “You’re welcome to watch, grab that bucket and take a seat.” I looked at him, stunned, but complied.

“I’ll introduce you to the family and then you can have some real food and lodgings. When was the last time you ate and what did you eat?”

I looked him in the eye. “The buns you gave me sir. That was the last thing I ate.”

He nodded and sighed, putting down the brush. “I’m done here. Come on in then.”

I stood and followed him inside. A woman was stirring something in a pot that hung over a roaring fireplace. She was dressed in simple tunic and breeches of gray wool and the only jewelry she wore it seemed was a gold band. She turned, seeing us, and smiled. “Hello Orrin. How was your day in the market?”

“It was well, Mother. I’ve brought a guest and was hoping we’d be able to accommodate him.” Orrin urged me forward and I looked up into the woman’s eyes. They were stormy-blue. I smiled and the woman wrapped me in a loose embrace. “Of course.” She pulled me back from her, “What’s your name?”

“Jasper.” I whispered.

“Well, Jasper, you should be able to sleep with my son Brontè upstairs—speaking of which where is that confounded lad?” Orrin put a hand on my shoulder as his mother continued, “Will you show the boy where everything is—let him bathe and get him some proper clean clothes—”

“Yes, Mother.” Orrin chuckled and led me upstairs. It was roomier up here and as Orrin showed me around, we came to the privy and he explained how the plumbing worked and how to arrange towels and such when I was finished. Orrin put a bundle of clothing behind a wooden screen. “I’ll put them here so you can change in private.” He then left. I closed the door, filled the large tin tub with warm water and stripped. Stepping into the tub was like stepping into paradise. I sank down and washed my body and hair clean of the sweat and grime before just sitting in the warm water, enjoying how the heat loosened my tight muscles. I finally stepped from the tub and dried off, changing into soft linen breeches and shirt. Once I’d pulled on socks and boots, I tentatively went downstairs, where Orrin and Brontè’s mother had saved me a seat between them. My stomach growled and I focused on being polite as I ate the most filling meal I’d had in weeks: Beef stew, bread with butter, potatoes and apple cider.

A hand stuck itself in my field of vision. “Brontè.” I turned to face a boy round my age with floppy brown hair and his mother’s stormy eyes—they were curious.

I smiled, “Jasper.” and shook his hand. His grip was strong and friendly in mine.

“Mother tells me you’ll be staying with us. Do you want to come with me tomorrow? It’d be nice having someone else to talk to.”

I nodded, “I’d like to.”

Brontè’s face broke out into a grin. “Great! Meet me upstairs after dessert.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “Mother’s not supposed to know.”

I nodded and we continued eating. A small bubble of excitement and fatigue popped in my chest, spreading through me. What had Brontè planned? What was going to happen tomorrow?What happened to Yrel and Jocasta?

Was I supposed to feel this puzzled by freedom?