The Peasant and the Crescent

With the same proprietary impudence, his fingers roamed down to her crotch, checking for a hymen. Its discovery brought about a pleased expression in both buyer and seller, as it added ten dinars to her price, around fifty grams of gold (enough to pay a soldier's wages for half a year). The man of good taste handed the coins over with no regrets, eager to bring this kitten home. The girl's manacles came off. The horror of being sold was quickly followed by the greater horror of seeing her mother and sister still on the stand.

"No! Noooooo!!"

"Astrid!"

"Please God, don't take her away from us!"

"This ewe doesn't want to part from her lambs," the Scandinavian laughed.

"It doesn't make my heart glad to separate a family, but wasting too much wealth is also a sin. This little one is all I can afford."

Elfgifu couldn't make out the man's rapid, throaty utterances, but could see the sordid lust in his eyes. He would probably ravish her tonight. The Viking captain impishly slapped the girl's pale bottom as she walked away with her new master, slowly forming a red handprint on her little, lily-white buttcheek. The little girl didn't pay any mind as she struggled futilely to stay behind with her family. The turbaned man merely tied a piece of silk rope around her neck as a collar, then tugged her away, exiting stage right.

All three females moaned and wailed. The men only smiled contemptuously. The other slaves also began to cry as they realized they would soon share their fate.

Elfgifu tensed as a pair of hands seized her midsection, running up her sides. Her normally warm eyes became chilly, and her lips creased into a tight frown. Her nipples were hard, not from arousal but from the cold air, yet they were just as sensitive to his touch.

One of the hands departed from her supple breast and ran over her soft belly like a spider until it rested ensnared in the curl of her golden pubes. It twirled around indecisively: her fleece was not soft and downy, but neither was it coarse and bristly. A woman like her in any society was mostly likely to have been wed already. At eighteen, she was already quite old for a newly-wed, even for English women who married relatively late. Virginity was unlikely.

"Oh!"

She broke her stoic silence with an outraged burst as the man's fingers slid inside her boat and inserted themselves into her pink hole. She crouched over protectively but couldn't guard herself. She finally brought her eyes to the offending hand, blinking in disbelief that it was coal black.

"Ibrahim, how is she? Has she been touched?" spoke an elderly man in a red turban.

"Aye, master, she has known man," replied the Nubian manservant.

"Tch," huffed the guard in annoyance. He may as well have had a go with her, had he known.

Ibrahim had been a eunuch from the age of six, and so had little interest in women sexually, but he did admire her even features and good health. She was in possession of all her teeth, and could make a good maidservant, or even concubine for the old master's son.

Of course, firengi were unruly slaves, and would need a good disciplining before they could be trusted to become part of the young master's household. But once she did, this English girl's good looks would easily secure the master's favors, and she would talk down to him in the same haughty tone as the other second-wives had.

"Poor Ibrahim," the eunuch lamented, "yet another mistress to talk down to me and call me raisin-head." The old man and the guard laughed gently, sympathizing more with his plight than the girl's.

"?" Elfgifu muttered nervously.Oh Lord, what is he saying?

The old man and the warrior haggled back and forth until they both began to cross their arms and sigh wearily.

"I'll give you forty dinars, since she is a fine woman, even if a bit tarnished."

The soldier looked around and lowered his voice, "Forty-one."

The old man winked and consented, tossing him the extra coin, which the Varangian stuffed in his shoe. It was enough for sixteen visits to the "bathhouses", and quite a few other things besides.

Elfgifu reluctantly followed the old man and his black companion down the same walk out of the theater, knowing she could do nothing to escape. The Nubian was a quick shot with the bow hanging on his shoulder, and there weren't many safe places for a naked slave woman to hide. She kept her eyes on the road, not fully comprehending what was going on, but quietly acquiescing.

Her eyes blinked open at the sight of a young blond boy running past them on the street, hastily delivering a sack of flour. The collar on his neck, as well as his shabby dress, indicated that he too was a slave.

Suddenly, the image of Leofric flashed in her mind, and tears started welling up in her eyes. Soon, the memory of Swithun and his axe wound followed, then her loving parents and her childhood home, then finally, sweet Alfred and their beautiful wedding day, the happiest day in her life. Everything that was far away and impossible to bring back.

She dropped to her knees in the middle of the road and hugged her knees, openly wailing. The whites of her eyes turned quickly turned pink, and her nose ran freely. She didn't bother to wipe herself, or hide her agony.

Ibrahim waited a while, then scooped her up by her quivering shoulders and brought her back to her feet. She felt marginally relieved that they didn't yell at her or beat her, but she still felt unsafe around them. Her tears dried up quickly and she blinked her itchy and bleary eyes.

The Nubian unleashed his master's mare from the post inside the merchant quarter, helping load the old man and his slave girl onto it.

The trio left the city of Barisiyya on a country road that took them to their estate. The two men breathed in the fresh summer air through their nostrils. The Caliph's lands were completely safe for traveling, and they were free to relax and enjoy the scenery along the way. Elfgifu was finally given a woolen blanket with which to hide her nakedness.

Elfgifu raised her eyes to the sky, praying to God Alfred was safe at home in Ludham.