The Bloody Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (2 page)

Bridgit and her friends had hurried after the young woman Ely, the helper Prince Kemal had given them.

The screams of Sean and Seamus, dying slowly out on the sand, followed them into the city. Even when they were surrounded by the hubbub of the port – even over the ensuing days as they settled into their new lives – Bridgit felt like she could still hear the men’s cries accusing her.

Their house and prison was a large, plain two-story building with none of the bright tiles or decoration she had seen on Prince Kemal’s home. Carefully they explored it. Inside it was cool and shady, with a large courtyard at the back enclosed by a high wall. There were plenty of rooms so they could divide the children up by families and ages, as well as keep one for themselves.

The only thing they did not have was a key. The walls around the courtyard were high, far too tall to get a small child over, and were topped with wicked-looking barbed spikes.

“We shall get out of here, but not that way,” Bridgit murmured to her friends.

It became their custom to sit together at the end of the day, when the children had been put to bed, to talk about things they had seen and how that might help them with the escape plan they desperately wanted but hadn’t worked out yet.

They were learning more about Kotterman in general and the port of Adana in particular every day. For instance, they were getting used to the call to prayers that echoed out at dawn, at midday and at dusk. Bridgit was impressed by the Kottermanis’ devotion to Aroaril but also mystified as to how they could reconcile that with keeping slaves and treating them like animals.

Ely was living with them, working as their translator, and Bridgit was not sure if she was a help or a hindrance. The young woman spoke to the guards on their behalf when asked and negotiated for more food and supplies, but said little outside of that. She did watch everything that went on, so they had to be careful what they did and said around her. Although she was obviously a slave as well, for all they knew she was reporting back to the slave master Gokmen. But even without her there they had to be careful, for the children all had sharp ears and it would not take much for one or more of them to blurt something out in front of a guard.

Caring for the children was demanding, as well as tiring. The older kids helped out looking after the younger, but the little ones missed their mothers and there were many tears in the night: they failed to understand why they had to be there at all, of course.

Without Riona and Nola, Bridgit did not know how she would do it. For a small woman, Nola had a huge voice and was not afraid of using it. Where her husband Brendan was large in body and soft of voice, she was the opposite. Anyone who owed Brendan money for smithy work done had been far more terrified of Nola than of her giant husband. So now Nola was the stick that kept the children in line. Riona, like her husband Devlin, was a talker and a joker, and liked to keep the older children entertained. That left Bridgit free to sing and play with the ones who were missing their parents the most. Most of these were the ones she had adopted on the ship, and she was only too pleased to gather them into her arms and sing them to sleep.

If it was not for where they were, and for missing Kerrin and Fallon, she might have been happy. But they could never forget they were prisoners, and Bridgit could not get the image of Sean and Seamus out of her mind, nor the silent promise she had made to them and to herself to get their people home.

So the three took to talking at night, just whispering really, as they exchanged ideas and tried not to wonder too much about their husbands.

*

Bridgit jumped up when the crying began. She had a sudden fear that something, somehow that had been overheard: guards shouted in harsh Kottermani and children wailed in terror. She raced down to meet the Kottermanis, and found an angry Gokmen looking for her.

“I am here. Now please stop scaring the children,” she said loudly. She knew how they responded to fear, so she squared her shoulders and kept her face calm, praying her voice would stay steady. She looked around and called for Ely, although she knew Gokmen spoke reasonable Gaelish, which was disturbing. Why would a slave master need to speak her language unless it was because he either planned to see many Gaelish slaves – or already had Gaelish slaves.

“What can I help you with, slave master?” she asked carefully.

Gokmen glowered at her. “Your people are not good workers. They do not understand orders to them. They make mistakes. Nobody will want slaves like that. They will not be ready to sell unless I do something.”

Bridgit’s heart sank at that. Anything he was likely to do would result in some of her people or, worse, some of her children suffering.

“You cannot expect them to understand your language,” she argued. “Do you not have more like Ely, who can speak both languages?”

Gokmen shook his head. “There are too many of you, scattered across the city. We would need ten times as many guards who speak your words as I have now. No, you need to make them work.”

Bridgit took a deep breath. She would do nothing that would hurt the children but neither did she want to be the one to make her people suffer. The noise of crying children calmed her mind. Gokmen’s words about needing ten times as many guards gave her an idea, one that might solve two problems in one.

“You need to bring them together, not have them scattered across the city,” she said firmly. “Have them in groups of ten, and not only can you have one guard there who can talk to them, you will find they work much better. My people are used to working together to get things done. Put two together and they will do the work of three. Put ten together and they will do the work of twice as many.”
And it will make it much easier when it comes time to escape
, she thought.

“How is that possible?” Gokmen demanded.

“Because we work as a team, not as individuals,” Bridgit said. “Try it. What do you have to lose? If, after a quarter moon, it has not worked, then you can try your methods.”

Gokmen stared at her and she looked back, meeting his eyes coolly. Long years of pretending to Kerrin that she was happy and that there was nothing to worry about made this easy. She knew how to keep her face expressionless, so not a hint of what she was really thinking showed there. Talking to the slave master was simple by comparison.

“We shall try what you say,” he grunted. “But you speak to them first.”

“Agreed. Is there anything else?” she asked.

“They work slowly later in the day,” he growled. “They are lazy!”

“They are not!” she stormed back at him indignantly, before calming herself as his eyebrows knitted together in anger.

“You are not managing them well. They are getting too hot and thirsty,” she amended.

“How do you know this?” he asked suspiciously.

“Because it is twice as hot as we are used to. I need to see them, speak to them, and we need to come up with a better way to get a day’s work out of them,” she said briskly.

“I whip them until they work,” Gokmen threatened.

“You will not!” Bridgit declared. “That will do nothing. Worse, they will work less and when Prince Kemal returns, he will punish you. Listen to me and I shall solve all your problems.”

Gokmen muttered something in Kottermani, then nodded once. “We fix first thing tomorrow,” he said.

*

Even with a hat to protect her from the sun, which had scarce risen above the horizon, the heat was still ferocious as she walked through the town. No wonder her people were exhausted.

The wasteland that had seemed to stretch in all directions from the slave house where they had first been brought actually only abutted part of the city. The other part, around the town and closer to the coast, was given over to fields. She could see the long lines of slaves toiling away and only had to have a quick look to see many of them had been burned by the sun.

“Listen now, I can make them work better, but you need to change what you are doing,” she told Gokmen.

“Why? You are here to make them work better, not less,” he growled back, looming over her, his big fist coiled tight around the handle of the whip he carried.

She folded her arms defiantly, which helped to disguise that her hands were shaking. “You can keep doing this but I tell you now, you will kill half of them. And what will Prince Kemal say to that? Or you can listen to me and they will be the best workers you have.”

He stood over her for what seemed like forever but she locked eyes with him and refused to move an inch backwards, even though her mind was screaming at her to do so.

“I am the slave master and you will do what I say!” he thundered at her.

“Not when what you say is foolishness!” she said sharply.

She was dimly aware that all the slaves in the fields, not just the Gaelish but the others as well, had stopped and were watching them.

“It is up to you. But I will not be the one answering to Prince Kemal,” she said, much softer. “Trust me. I can help us all.”

Finally he grunted and took a step back. “What should we do?” he said finally.

Bridgit would have liked to smile in triumph but merely nodded. “Let’s make a list,” she said.

*

By the time she was able to walk back to the house full of children, she felt as though she had done some good for her people. After his initial anger and a series of not so subtle threats, Gokmen had agreed to everything she wanted. Instead of working through the hottest part of the day, the Gaelish would start before dawn, have more water breaks, rest for the hottest part of the day and then continue in the late afternoon and into the darkness. All would wear hats and clothes that covered their pale skin, while those already burned would have them treated with salves. They would also work in gangs of ten so there were enough Gaelish-speaking guards to have at least one with each gang.

It was still distressing to see people she knew being forced to work like animals, with men holding whips standing over them. But in truth the work was no harder than they were used to and the reaction of many of them to what she had done made her feel that standing up to Gokmen had been worth it. Men and women had taken her hand and told her how grateful they were and how they trusted her to first protect them and then get them out of this sandy, sweaty, revolting place.

It was a strange feeling, being responsible for so many people – it actually made her feel proud of what she was doing. If only her stomach was not so queasy with the strange food, she would almost be happy.

*

“What can you see?” Bridgit asked.

Riona did not turn her head from where she appeared to be watching a handful of children playing with their parents. “Dermot’s group is being brought up from towards the docks,” she replied. “I think they will be next.”

“Keep an eye on them and see which way they go,” Bridgit ordered. “But don’t let Ely catch you watching like this. If she does, burst into tears and pretend to be searching the horizon for our menfolk in their ship.”

“That’s not as easy as it sounds,” Riona said.

“Do it anyway,” Bridgit told her, then hurried downstairs to where the first group of parents was being reunited with their children.

She had been unsure how Gokmen would organize this day, the first chance for the new Gaelish slaves to see their children. Would the children be brought back to the slave house outside the city gate, where they had spent their first few days?

As it turned out, the Kottermanis wanted to bring each gang of adult slaves there and give them just a turn of the hourglass with the children before being taken away. She knew the parents wanted more and if Prince Kemal had still been there then she would have asked him. But he had gone sailing back to Gaelland and all she had to work with was Gokmen. She wanted the first day to go smoothly and then she could use that to encourage him to give them more.

This was the message she spread to the parents, although none were happy about it.

“But you promised us a day with our children.” Ena was one of many to protest.

“And you will get that, eventually. But we have to show we can be trusted, have to make them think there is no danger in bringing us together,” Bridgit told her, although she made sure all the other parents nearby could also hear. “Or have you forgotten their idea for making us obey them? To kill two of the children? Would you offer yours up?”

“You know I would not,” Ena said.

“Then enjoy the time you have been given,” Bridgit told her. “And don’t forget there are Kottermani guards both out the front and rear of here at all times.”

Once she was convinced they were not going to protest any more, she turned to Ahearn. He did not have any children there but the Kottermanis had not bothered to ask, they just brought along two gangs of Gaelish.

“Have you seen any ships that could take us all?” she asked softly.

“There’re a few. I recognize the one that brought us here, same sort of one that you arrived on, most likely. But will they have enough food and water on them? There’s enough of us to feed on the long trip home. We can always try to fish but we don’t want to run out of water with long days of sailing ahead of us.”

“And then there’s the pursuit. They won’t let us go without a fight,” Bridgit said. “And they know how to sail those big ships.”

Ahearn nodded slowly. “There is that. We’ve all been around boats long enough that we’d learn quickly enough but we need the time to do that.”

“So we need to get on board with enough water and plenty of food to last the trip back, as well as damaging as many other ships as possible, without the Kottermanis noticing,” Bridgit said.

“When you say it like that it doesn’t sound easy,” Ahearn admitted.

“It can be done,” Bridgit said with a confidence she did not feel. But he was her ally and had put his trust in her, so she could not let him see her fears. Just as if she were talking to Kerrin. “And when should we strike? When they make the call to prayers at dusk? Darkness will be our friend and they will be slow to react then.”