Telling her was my mistake.
I didn't regret the first part, the reading. How could I? It had felt so liberating, allowing my mind to explore beyond my Lord's castle, even if my body was still trapped within. He would never let us leave, not through the doors as the servants did, but the books were my portal to a whole other world. I'd owed it to myself, really.
It had all started with something Lord Codd had said, when one of the girls had disappointed him. "I gave you this life," he thundered, "and I could take it away, just as easily. Is that what you want?"
The girl, trembling, had shaken her head. It was not wise to answer back to our Lord, not with him in one of his furies.
"No," he continued. "You have no wealth, no family, no education. I am all that you have. If you left me, you would be dead within days. It is only my great mercy which keeps you alive."
I did not doubt his power. Lord Codd owned the whole region, everything for miles to see, and a whole host of smaller lords and mayors paid homage to him. What he owned more than any other, though, was us. Slaves. A thousand men worked his kitchens, his stables, his fields, and a hundred girls warmed his bed.
This poor wretch had tried to make that ninety-nine. Her plan of escape, to elope with a passing trader, had failed before she'd left the grounds. Our Lord had not punished her, to my surprise. She was new, and so he'd let her go free: if by "free" you mean trapped in these stone walls for her entire existence, forced to bend to his every whim and perversion. He could be oh-so-merciful.
He could also be jealous, though. None had known this more than the trader, in the seconds before the axe had cleaved through his throat.
To us, mere slave girls in his harem, Lord Codd had god-like powers, so this defiance was unheard of. The new girl had been naive, not yet having realised her new position. She would learn. I, as one of his older possessions, knew better than to even attempt an escape. It was just like he said: he was all that we had.
A physical escape, then, was impossible. Freeing my mind, however...
He was all that we had. But what if he wasn't? What if I taught myself to read, to learn, got that education, and learnt a trade? I was getting too old for this role, I knew. The great Lord much preferred the younger girls, the fresh meat; it had been months since I'd been called, and that might have been the last. I was glad, in a way, as none of us enjoyed the service, but I also feared what might become of me.
If this was all I had, and he found no use left for me, I had nothing. I needed more.
One night, then, I had snuck into the library, whilst the other girls slept or performed as required. I was scared, and not just of being caught. When another girl, the light-skinned Ada, had asked permission to read, the Lord had laughed in her face.
"You ask my leave to die?" He'd asked. "Women cannot read, not with such small a mind. The words would confuse you, overheat your brain, and bring you nothing but death. Open a book, and that will be the end of you. Trust me on this."
I was cleverer than most of the girls, though. I was older, for one, and had always had a good memory, much as I often cursed it. I was also desperate. I picked up a small tome, then, and lifted it to the light.
That was when he found me.
He was some historian, I think, a passing academic who came to study in this wealth of books. He did not work for Lord Codd. Nevertheless, I had not been expecting company.
"Good evening." The man seemed friendly enough.
"Please don't turn me in," I whispered, panicking. "I'm sorry, I was stupid. I will never touch a book again. I know it will melt my brain."
"Melt your brain?" Now it was his turn to chuckle. "I hardly think that likely. All a book can give you is knowledge, an education. They will make your mind stronger, if anything, and certainly not destroy it!"
"Please don't turn me in," I repeated.
"For just wanting to read? I wouldn't dream of it. Here, I'll teach you, if you like."
I liked that very much indeed. For that night, and the two nights after, we stayed with the books together, helping me glean their hidden wisdom. I do not regret that, even now. My mistake was not the experience of words, which was incredible, making me question how I'd lived without, but my sharing it.
I told the white girl, Ada. Together we were two of the oldest slaves, and had known each other a long time, so I thought I could trust her silence. The next night, the library held three.
Ada had always been keen to learn, even before her initial request, and took to the books like fire. Unfortunately, she had failed to learn survival. Whilst I'd kept my head down and hidden my dreams, she'd asked Lord Codd for permission. Whilst I now hid my new knowledge, she couldn't resist the chance to impress.
She'd let slip, and so the Lord had us both before his feet, awaiting judgement. Somehow, that was all to be blamed on me.
"It was Evelyn's fault, please, my Lord," she'd wailed. I'd thought we were friends, but there was no friendship in the docks. Perhaps she had learnt survival at last.
"No." I would not die for this. I was guilty only of trust, and of wanting to be able to think for myself. If the Lord was merciful, and truly loved us as he claimed, he would forgive that honest desire. "I did nothing wrong."
"Who, then, is to be blamed for this breach of trust?"
"The historian." The words were out before I could stop them, and continued to pour through my quivering mouth. "He deceived me."
The Lord gave a swift nod, and the doors opened behind us.
I'd never heard the man scream, only speak softly, but somehow I knew these were his. The historian, the only one out of me, Ada, and even the Lord to have been honest in his words, was being dragged in for deceit. I did not turn around. For all he deserved the respect, I could not bear to meet his gaze.
The punishments were delivered, one by one. For my tutor, Lord Codd decreed his limbs be ripped from his torso, to teach him his place at the nobleman's feet. For me, to cure me of my rebellious streak, a monthly blood tithe. Extracted painfully through leeching, this should reduce the flow to my brain, and keep me docile. For Ada, a lifetime's manual labour was prescribed, to keep her too busy for future distractions.
For the other girls, though innocents, the same applied. All of those with my dark skin would share in my tithe, and those pale like Ada would join her in work. Our Lord chose to punish them all, so that none would be tempted to follow our lead, and all would despise us, and the historian, for breaking his trust. None of us would be killed, though.
Like I said, he could be merciful.
