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Excerpt from Chapter 5
"What did you dream of, Lin?"
That was our ritual every morning, trading dreams. Every morning that I could remember. Whatever my brother's dream had been, I would carry it through the dreariness of the dozens of mindless chores I would have to do. Dafydd's dreams made the work a little easier, more tolerable. The blows endurable. I never believed my dreams to be worth much, especially to Dafydd, but he always asked first.
"Some place warm, where it is summer all the time and I do not need a blanket."
He grinned and said, "Sorry Lin." Then after the briefest pause, he continued on in an excited rush. "But there is such a place. It is called the Summer Country, ever so far from this dreary place, in ancient Logres. That is the old name for Britain," he added with authority. "The Pendragon lives there with his beautiful queen, Gwenhwyfar. The Round Table is there as well."
"Camelot?"
"Camelot," he answered. My brother's wealth of knowledge amazed me.
"What was your dream, Dafydd?"
I never learned it because a commotion arose not far from where we sat and interrupted him in mid-thought. I remembered the current phase of the moon with a familiar sinking of my stomach. Time for collarings.
A collar, an insipid thing really, harmless to look at on its own. Made of stiff leather, about the width of two thumbs' breadths, and long enough to wrap around a neck snugly. Our coming of age gift from the Queen. It served as a constant reminder of our place, as if the incessant verbal taunts and jeers of everyone in the dunn were insufficient to keep us informed of our lowly lot in life.
Yet on that summer morning, I was still innocent and believed that it could never happen to me, or any one I knew and cared about. Casually, I glanced towards the source of the noise.
When my stomach stopped its wild descent it formed itself into a tight knot.
"Dafydd," I whispered. "Meg is getting..." I turned to see my brother's face had gone ashen. His blue-grey eyes had lost their lustre and his jaw hung slack. He knew. We both knew what was coming.
In the next instant, the overseer jerked Dafydd to his feet.
"Your turn, boy."
What gave them the right? I could not allow it, not to my brother. I had to help him.
"No," I shouted, rushing forward. I swung at the man who would dare violate my beloved Dafydd with the obscene strip of brown leather. The overseer swept me away with one heavily muscled arm. The blow sent me sprawling. As though on a quest, I sprang to my feet again, screaming the gods know what.
Before I reached the overseer a second time, his assistant caught me by the hair, yanked me back and held me fast. I watched helplessly.
My brother blinked once, otherwise he did not move. How could he be so silent? How could he accept that thing so peacefully, like a lamb with no idea it is about to be slaughtered?
The appalling scene ended swiftly, and the overseer turned to me.
"So. You would protect your brother from his fate, hmm?"
The man holding me by the hair snickered.
My defiance dissolved as the overseer towered over my head. Eye-level with his waist, I got a close-up view of his badge of office, the whip dangling from his belt. He did not reach for it. Instead, he nodded to his aide behind me who unloosed my hair.
The burning across my back came from nowhere a moment later. The force of the blow sent me flat and winded. Before I could catch my breath, a second stroke landed between my shoulders. I was still gasping for air when a fist gripped my hair again and hauled me to my feet.
"You, I'll be watching," the overseer said, then released me.
My wobbly legs collapsed immediately and I landed on my knees. I heard satisfaction in the overseer's chuckle.
"Entertainment is over. To work." He and his aide strode out. Several of our companions filed after.
Dafydd rushed to my side, followed closely by Meg, both ready to lend me aid.
"Leave me be. I can do this myself. I do not need your help. I do not want it."
My brother dropped his hands at my outburst. Meg backed away. Everyone else stared mutely as I composed myself. The whip had inflicted more than pain. The overseer had achieved humiliation. It smouldered within me. I had to stand up on my own. Or--I did not understand what drove me, I just knew that I must.
The effort to heave myself to my feet taxed me greatly. Each movement ignited my fresh wounds and I stumbled as though besotted.
No one had moved, although I know Dafydd wanted to. His eyes displayed his thoughts clearly.
"What are you staring at?" I said.
That infused some life into the crowd and more people shuffled out. Our duties awaited. And who would risk a beating for me, the heartless one who had not wept for her mother's passing?
"Lin--"
"We have to go, Dafydd," I said and walked away.
The day was impossible, having to carry on as if nothing had happened. But something dreadful had occurred to my brother and me. Dafydd's collar ground the reality of our condition into me. Until that morning, we had been simply children who worked long and gruelling hours for the comfort of others, and reaping none of the benefits of our sweat.
Now the world would know at a glance what Dafydd was. Not who, but what.
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