“So...who are you?”
“My name is Adelais. I belong to Konrad. I am his woman.”
“But...but I...I thought I was here to marry him...?”
“I am not his wife. I belong to him. Don’t be afraid, I am not your rival. I am his slave.”
“What? What do you mean? How can you be? I don’t understand...”
“Come, come I and sit here with me. What is your name? Tell me.”
“I’m Gisila. I am betrothed to him. My father...”
“Ah yes. He is drinking with Konrad I think. I saw them. They like to drink. He likes to drink very much. This you will come to understand.”
Gisila settled down on the straw mattress, rubbing her eyes against the smoke rising from the little fire beneath the blackened pot.
“So, Adelais... that’s right yes? Adelais. What do you mean when you say you are his? I don’t understand. What do you...”
“What do I do? I cook for him sometimes and I sleep with him sometimes. When he wants it. I do what he asks. I belong to him. Since he took me I am his. For him to do with as he wishes. I am his slave.”
“No. I mean what do you mean when you say you’re his slave? I still don’t understand...”
“I am his. How hard is that to understand? He took me as his after a battle. He took me and now I am his. He is sometimes kind and sometimes not. I am not always unhappy. I think he cares sometimes for me. When he is angry he sometimes beats me but that is normal I think. As men go he is not a bad man.”
“So...so what happened to you? I mean where are you from?
“Here, drink this. I will tell you. So, I come from a place far from here, far away in the East by a bend of the great river they call Danubius. My people are the Eravisci, but I was a slave of the Romans in their city that they call Acquincum. I grew up there with my Roman master and I was his and shared his bed in those days. He was a commander in their army and he took me with him when they went across the river to the North, me and other women who were there to cook or for their pleasure. And that is where I was taken. The Romans were killed and those of us who were with them were chained by the men who had fought them and after many days I arrived here in this place by the river they call the Erphes. So that is my story. And so now I am the slave of Konrad and I live in his house here with nothing. Before I slept in beautiful room with soft blankets and lovely things and other slaves who were my friends and my life was good. But now I am in this place with no-one. I am afraid often. I am afraid to go outside this door and to show myself because they do not like me. They stare at me with strange eyes and comment on me and how I look.”
“But you look beautiful. I think you are beautiful. Doesn’t Konrad?”
“Maybe. He likes my hair and my eyes and my face. He says that. But the others think I am foreign and they think I am just a slave and good for the things a slave is good for. They don’t think I am a girl I think. Just a thing from a strange place. I... I hate them...I hate being here. Look. Here. Here are the chains he uses on me when he wishes. In Acquincum I never wore chains, just jewels to make me pretty. Here he beats me when he tires of me. This never happened with the men from Rome. Look...touch them... these are my chains. See? Feel them on your wrists... See?”
She shivered as she touched the cold metal. It had been a long day and she was tired. But the iron chain seemed somehow to focus her mind. She placed it on her wrist, drew the two halves together. The chain fitted so well, as if it had been made for her.
Slowly she opened the links and slid it back over her hand, then reached out for the glass she’d poured. She placed the bracelet on the table and lay back on the sofa, running her fingers over herself, enjoying the light as it played through the glistening wine.
Chapter Eight
The sun was setting when she woke, the last light disappearing fast over the red-tiled roofs across the street. Gisela blinked, glancing around the shadowed room. Her glass lay shattered, the wine a small reflecting pool on the wooden floor. She stood, then bit on her lip as a shard cut into her foot; reaching down and touching the trickle of warm blood, her tongue sensing the bitter taste as she placed her finger between her lips, then, dampened, wiped the tiny wound clean.
She blinked again, accustoming herself to the gloom, then gingerly crossed to the kitchen counter and flicked on a light, resting on her elbows, the granite surface cold against her body. Pushing herself up she took another glass, and easing the cork free, poured; a bead of ruby Pinot Noir sliding slowly down the stem, along the tilt of her hand, over her wrist, down the inside of her arm.
The chain lay there, open; somehow staring at her. She paused; moved to the table where her phone lay, waiting.
She dials his number. The phone rings. There’s no answer. It goes to answerphone.
She wonders. “Shall I?”, then hangs up. And immediately redials.
“Er… it’s Gisela. So, well…. I. Well, let’s give it a break tonight. Matthias, I…. well, I just need a bit of space I think. Is that ok? Look, I’ll call you, ok?”
She hung up once more, her fingers hanging on to her mobile, tapping.
“Fuck”.
An hour later she was ready. Showered, dressed. . She wanted to. She span down the stairs into the cool air in Moritzsraße, strolled purposefully along the street, into Michaelisstraße and at the corner dipped into the bar, already half-full with mid-week murmurs and quiet chatter, and ordered herself a scotch. With ice. Dragging herself onto one of the chrome and faux-leather barstools and staring down into her drink, swirling the liquid, searching out a distorted reflection. Trying to capture her own thoughts and somehow place them into an order that would make sense of her day.
“Hi. You’re looking a bit lost. Can I?”
“Sure. Why not. I’m Gisela.”
“Lotte. Nice to meet you. Don’t you think it’s a bit dull here sometimes?”
“What, here in the city? Or this bar? I like… well, it’s a bit of… it feels like a Wednesday to me. I…”
“I hate Wednesday’s too. Not one thing or another. Too far to go to the weekend.”
Gisela smiled, laughed just a little.
“You’re right I think. Hey, shall we have another drink? I think we should don’t you?”
“OK. But just one. I think it will be just too boring to stay here any longer, don’t you think?”
“Just one then. What will you have? I’ll buy.”
I like so much !
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