The Shrinemaiden (The Maidens) (2 page)

Even now, despite his new status, the man remained defiant. He wore a simple shift lined with the green and gold of Sarcopia, and his muscular arms and chest were bare, cross-marked by numerous scars and old wounds. He was a handsome man and heavily built, with his brown hair and hard gray eyes. He stood tall, head held proudly and paying no heed to the laughter and the jeers of the other guests as they taunted him. Most of the other prisoners made up most of his regiment, from what Adelai had been told. While some appeared broken and hopeless, others were endeavoring to put up as brave a front as their leader.

Adelai couldn’t help but admire them. It seems that the courage of General Khalid and his men had not been exaggerated.

As part of the festivities, she and her sisters were to serve the guests that were to take part in their auctions, to better familiarize themselves with their potential buyers. They moved among the tables bearing pitchers of wine and platters of bread and other foodstuffs, obediently filling glasses and dispensing with small talk while these guests watched. It was also another subtle test for the girls to pass. It was imperative that they maintain proper decorum at all times here; one affronted dinner guest could unravel the years spent in preparation for this night.

The guests had been reminded beforehand to treat them with the utmost courtesy, though on occasion a few attempted to push their luck. “Well now, aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” One of the men slurred, as Adelai moved to fill his tankard. He was portly and decked out in jewels, with rings on his finger and heavy gold pendants around his neck. He leered at her and, without warning, took hold of her arm and yanked it hard, sending her tumbling into his lap. He squeezed her bottom painfully. “Stay a little longer here with me, sweet child. I would like to know the little pretties before I buy them.”

Adelai swallowed her revulsion, at the thought of this man buying her. Instead, she pasted a small, almost conciliatory smile on her face. “I have many other glasses to fill, good sir,” she said, as pleasantly as she could, quickly pulling herself away and sidestepping his hand when he made to lunge at her again. “And I cannot be remiss in my duties. Things do not always go the way we expect them to, don’t we?” She knew she should not have made that last statement, knowing it would annoy him, but his behavior both embarrassed and infuriated her. The fat man scowled, but already one of the soldiers posted to ward off such behavior was approaching him, and she took that opportunity to hurry away.

To her relief, none of the other guests were as rude as the man, instead content to ask questions while she refilled their drinks, or compliment her on her looks, which she responded to with grateful gravity.

The kings were better behaved than their subjects. King Belair, the ruler of Atalantea, smiled at Adelai when she refilled his goblet, and asked her many questions about her life in the temple. He was more attentive to her at times than he was to most of the guests at his table, frequently calling her over again to converse more. His wife, the beautiful Vielyna, was by his side, listening quietly and smiling at Adelai, though she thought the queen’s smile looked a little strained. The king of Dolynkar was a jovial man whose muscles had long since run to fat, but was amiable and prone to joking. The king of Gonnovat, a notorious misogynist, was a sallow man who was more interested in the food than in the shrinemaidens present.

The King of Sarcopia took the center table; a handsome man still in his thirties who talked very little, but had a way of watching people, like he knew a secret no one else did. Adelai had heard the rumors about him, of his alleged madness. That he had promoted his favorite horse to be his Gentleman of the Chambers, how he had ridden through the streets with a riding crop, whipping at any women he could reach with glee. Rumors spoke of how he shoved a noblewoman into a muddy pool as a practical joke, dropped pastries down the king of Gonnovat‘s head - it could be the reason the man scowled frequently at the Sarcopian king, but in truth he scowled at everyone - and of how he ripped up taverns and spent days carousing in brothels. Over the years the jokes turned crueler; there was talk of whipping men at the marketplace who he claimed were too tall; forcibly dragging women away, demanding to be orally pleasured by then. Adelai did not know if the gossip was true, but the king at this moment did not look mad, only bored.

The shrinemaidens’ bidding would be done through secret ballot; their winning bid would be announced at the end of the night, together with the winner’s name. This had always been the longstanding tradition, and Adelai suspected that the secrecy involved only heightened the allure of the whole process. The slave auction, on the other hand, had no such policy, for they were to be sold at a live bidding. Each slave would quickly learn who had bought them, to further their humiliation and douse what spirit they had left.

Shortly after the banquet was done, the auctions for the war prisoners began, the excitement in the air palpable. Most of the bidders for the prisoners were Sarcopians, many who had participated in the war, and perhaps sought revenge. As horrifying as it sounded, it was Sarcopia who was sponsoring the auctions this year, so none of the other kingdoms had much say in the matter.

The auctioneers started off with the less important personnel and soldiers, gradually working their way up to higher-ranked officer. Each time their names were called the new slaves were led, sometimes struggling and screaming, toward two wooden poles lashed together in an X position. Their arms and legs would be tied to these poles, to be displayed to the audience almost lewdly, to the cheers and jeers of the crowd. Most of these auctions passed quickly, for it was obvious that many of the bidders were waiting for General Khalid’s name to be called.

Still, there was some murmuring when it became apparent that many of the prisoners had been bought by the General Wolf Falen, one of Sarcopia’s greatest commanders. It was he who had succeeded in getting through to the Highrolfe defenses, and it was he who was credited with conquering Skylock, the Highrolfe capital.

“It seems Falen is not quite done with the war yet,” one of the Sarcopian guests guffawed, as the dark-eyed, blonde-haired general made another successful bid on a red-haired female, breathtakingly lovely if not for the obvious anger and fear in her eyes.

The auction process both angered and disgusted Adelai, though she did well to hide them. It was one thing to enter willingly, and another thing entirely to be forced against one’s will, even if all this was a consequence of war. But when General Khalid’s name was finally called, she could not help but look on as the jeering and the invectives grew worse, as the man was led to the poles. She had expected the general to fight back, perhaps try to break away, but he did not, only allowing the guards to chain him with no word or action of protest. His gaze drifted across the crowd, oblivious to the curses and the crude catcalls, and something much like a smile crossed his face, condescending and defiant to the very end.

The bidding here was hard and fast. The general started at 500,000 marks, easily three times as high as any of the others. Still, it seemed like every Sarcopian present wanted a piece of the general, who now looked bored by the proceedings. Finally, the last bid rang out, at a stunning six million marks - the highest Adelai had ever heard paid in any auction, even among shrinemaidens - and a murmur of awe swept through the crowd. The general’s expression wore a slight, strained look, no longer disinterested.

But the real surprise came when the winner was announced. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer began, his own face barely able to hide his own excitement, “the Highrolfe general has been sold for six million marks to the Lady Shannika Maestre.” A hush fell as a tall stately brunette walked out from the crowd. She was too young to have been part of the military campaign, and her exquisitely simple dresses were too rich and too expensive to have marked her out for anyone else but of the nobility.

“That’s Sargat Maestre’s daughter.” The high priestess said quietly, her voice too low for anyone but the girls to hear. “The richest man in Sarcopia, some say in all the kingdoms. He supplied the army with most of its weapons and supplies. He was killed when the general attacked the Sarcopian outpost in Dhan. They call his daughter the Silvermaiden, on account of all the silver mines they own, and also for their famous silverwine.”

The mystery of why she was willing to pay so much for him was explained. Adelai watched her approach the poles, where the guards were unfastening the ropes that bound the general’s wrists. They slackened, and just as quickly the man’s fists lashed out, catching one of the guards right in the chin and knocking him out. The three other guards turned back toward him, but Khalid knocked the nearest one out as well, and with just as much accuracy and efficiency.

Cries rang out from the crowd, the fear palpable, as another guard snapped up a large prod and drove it toward the general. The latter deflected it with his wrists, spinning around and knocking the prod from the man’s grasp, before ramming it into his stomach. The guard doubled over in pain, and the General lashed out with one last kick, disabling the last sentry with a hard boot to the head.

More guards were running toward the platform, this time with heavy guns, and Adelai knew that for all the General’s skill he would be hopelessly outmatched, even with the prod for a weapon. But escape did not seem to be what the general had in mind. His point proven, he tossed the prod out into the crowd. There were some screams as guests scrambled away to avoid being hit.

The General raised his hands, looked his new owner full in the face, and smiled. Immediately, he was set on by the new group of guards, shackled more roughly than the others had been, and led away over the new roars and angry curses of the people. Adelai can only imagine that the Lady Maestre was starting to have second thoughts about acquiring this new slave. She would have, had she been in the noblewoman’s place. On his part, the Sarcopian king was clapping his hands, looking delighted as if he had just finished watching a play he enjoyed.

Once the excitement of the slave auctions were over, though, it was their turn. Unlike the slaves however, they were allowed to return to their room to await the results of the bidding. Anonymous bids might be well and good to draw out the people’s hungry anticipation, but it reduced many of the girls to nothing more than a bundle of nerves. What if their bids weren’t high enough? Who would they be given over to for that night?

Shrinemaidens lost their virginities at auction, but not their freedom. After this initiation, the high priestess was now free to contract them out to others willing to partake of their services and rich enough to pay for them, for a certain time. But to those whom shrinemaidens have spent their first night with, the reputation that comes with it is nearly priceless, especially if a shrinemaiden’s fame grows among the kingdoms. Exclusivity is not an obligation, but the bidder enjoys more liberties with his shrinemaiden in many different ways than one could with a mere contract.

That is why, though Adelai was obligated to spend only one night with her bidder, she still could not help her anxiety. She remembered the fat guest from earlier and his threat of buying her, and could not stop her quiver of disgust.

Her other sisters share the same trepidation, some capitulating to the stress and weeping quietly, and it felt like ages before the High Priestess finally arrived with the results.

“The bidding went off splendidly.” She said first, and they all relaxed at the words. This meant that none of them had drawn bids that went short of what was expected, and that was something to be thankful for. “As I call your names, you will follow the servants back out into the hall, where the auctioneer shall make his announcement.”

One by one Adelai’s sisters trooped out of the room, until she was the only one remaining, which did nothing to ease her worry. “Go now, Adelai,” the High Priestess told her, pointing toward the door. There was a curious expression on her face, a mixture of uncertainty and doubt that Adelai had never seen her wear, and it only made the butterflies in her stomach grow. “Come on.”

When Adelai finally stepped into the hall there was a silence so profound that it took all she had not to bolt away. Every eye was on Adelai as she walked up the platform, turning to face the audience as the auctioneer began.

“Our last shrinemaiden on auction - Adelai. Her winning bid goes to King Belair of Atalantea - “

A queer gasp rose among the members of the crowd.

“ - to the the amount of three million marks.”

Adelai felt her knees begin to buckle, and had no idea how she was able to remain standing. Three million marks! This was more than any one had ever paid for a shrinemaiden.

And why would the king of Atalantea pay such a high price for her services? She could recall meeting him only once before that night, at a banquet the high priestess had thrown for the shrinemaidens a few months back, and she was sure she had never caught his attention then. It was no secret, after all, that King Belair was in love with his wife, and would look at no other woman. Was this why he was paying her so many compliments during supper?

With all these questions swirling in her head, Adelai was barely aware of the rest of the auctioneer’s words, nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. She barely remembered being led away, the high priestess taking her gently by the arm and steering her toward the room where she was to prepare herself for the coming night.

She spent the next hour in that same daze as servants came and went, helping her into the sheer lace gown she was to present herself to the winning bidder with, anointing perfume in her hair.

What would the King of Atalantea want with her?

She finally snapped out of it by the time she was walking down the corridor, the high priestess leading her into the chamber she was to spend the night in. That Priestess Saleia was here and aiding her instead of directing someone else to do so should have set off the warning bells in Adelai’s head, but she was still in shock. “Priestess Saleia,” She finally asked, as they approached the door. “I don’t understand. Why would the king choose me?”