Memoirs of a Fallen God

Chapter 5

The summer passed quickly after prickle corn season, as it always did. With the most difficult task of the year out of the way, everything else seemed simple by comparison.

One evening, somewhere between the end of summer and beginning of fall, we were hard at work bringing in the first crop of wheat. It was monotonous, backbreaking work, but at least wheat didn't have prickles.

I was interrupted from my labor when the overseer called out my name.

"Telth!" he said from half way across the field. I was surprised, as I hadn't even realized he knew me by name. Ever before I had always been Slave or Boy. I had no idea whether my new found notoriety was to the good or not, but I suspected it was a thing destined to bring me little joy.

The overseer (I never did hear him called by any other name) was a burly man, and getting on in years. His curly hair, its original color long forgotten in a losing battle with the gray, bulged outwards from beneath the tight overseer's skullcap he wore, and even on the hottest day of summer he was ever dressed in black. He always, always had a switch to hand, and a cubclub dangling menacingly at his belt.

From what I'd heard from the older slaves, he was considered something of a softy among overseers. Easy to get along with. But, really, to hell with that--the man terrified me. Of any on the farm, he was the man most apt to administer a beating, and he usually required very little motivation. And well did I know there wasn't the least bit of softness in the way he wielded a cubclub. If other overseers were worse, well, I am glad I never discovered it firsthand.

Needless to say, when the man's voice boomed out, calling my name, I hopped to answer, my mind working furiously to bring forth any reason I might have come to the attention of the overseer. Nothing clicked. I was, to my present chagrin, a rather well behaved slave. Still, even if I was in for a beating, I knew there was no sense delaying it.

I ran over to him, quick as I could manage.

"There you are. Damn well took your time," he said in his gruff, abrupt tone as I came sprinting up. "I need you. And what's that other one, always half a step behind you. The one who's always scratching."

I cast my eyes downward in proper slave fashion. "Scratch, sir."

"Right, 'course it's Scratch. What else would it be? Anyways I need him too. Go fetch him, and the both of you run over to the other side of the field, near the big house. And be quick about it, you keep me waiting again and I'll take the club to the both of ya’."

So off I went to collect Scratch. Usually, I would have enjoyed the chance to make him sweat a bit over a mysterious meeting with the overseer, but here, with me every bit as in the dark as he would be, I just didn't have the heart for it. I simply informed him the overseer wanted us, shrugged at the question in his eyes, and left him with no choice but to follow behind me.

A few minutes later we stood before the overseer, out of breath from the run. I'd never been so close to the mansion--never had any reason to be. We were only a stone's throw away, now.

I was left with little time to gape. The overseer's expression was far from pleased. He was shaking his head as we approached, muttering under his breath just loud enough for us to catch the end. "Hell, look at these two. Dirty as anything and twice as ugly. Don't know a thing about nothing, neither. But I can hardly be held accountable if they look and talk like slaves, I suppose."

He sighed, lifted his skullcap and scratched the gray hair underneath, then replaced the cap on his head. He then addressed us directly. "Alright, you little bastards. The Count's son, the young Lord Briar, has a noble visitor this evening, and it seems the pair are in need of additional bodies in order to play some game or another. The Count, in his infinite wisdom, suggested they use a couple of slaves in place of actual people, and apparently the young lads found the idea acceptable.