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Rupali tried to adjust her step to keep up
with the tall woman in front of her.
It had been most startling when she had first set eyes upon
It shocked her to see that the Englishwoman
showed signs of having been beaten.
Rupali herself had been subject to the occasional blow from her captors
when she stumbled or moved too slowly, but she had not yet been systematically
beaten. It seemed remarkable
with the welts decorating her shapely backside that the woman was able to
move at all, much less at the pace she
set. Had Rupali been shackled
the way she was it would have been impossible for her to move, but the
Englishwoman seemed to have no trouble keeping up with the rest of the
captives. Indeed, it was Rupali
who had to struggle to keep up with her.
Even after two weeks of walking, her muscles
had not yet strengthened to the point where she could walk for an entire
day without being close to collapse.
It must have been pure torture for the Englishwoman to force herself
forward with her arms shackled in so agonizing a position, but she did so
without complaint, her example shaming Rupali into
silence.
Only when they stopped for a water break could
Rupali see just how exhausted the Englishwoman
was. Like every other prisoner
in the procession she was dripping wet with perspiration and covered with
insect bites. Unlike the other
prisoners, however, she could not brush away the biting flies or rid herself
of the leeches that fastened themselves to her
body. She was forced to endure
until the procession stopped for one of the infrequent water
breaks. At that time it was Rupali,
who fighting down her revulsion, plucked the leeches and insects from the
Englishwoman’s skin.
The Englishwoman smiled her
thanks. Even shackled and obviously
exhausted as she was her face lit up when she smiled, but what struck Rupali
most strongly was her brilliant violet
eyes. They seemed to glow with
an inner fire that even the cruelty of her captors could not dim.
However, the Englishwoman’s strength
and toughness was not infinite.
Rupali noticed that she was frequently sick to her
stomach. At first Rupali feared
that her companion-in-chains might have contracted one of the ever-present
tropical fevers that plagued the forest, but after a few days it finally
dawned on her. She remembered
what it had been like for her mother when she had been pregnant with her
youngest brother.
“You are with child,” she said as
she sat beside Larra during their mid-morning
break. By this time she and the
Englishwoman were on a first name basis, the older woman insisting on it
despite the fact that Rupali with her Indian background felt she should address
her more respectfully. However,
since Larra would give no other name and would not respond to memsahib, Rupali
had no choice, although she still felt awkward when she addressed the
Englishwoman by her given name.
The violet eyes turned on Rupali with an intensity
that sent a chill down her spine.
“Tell no one,” Larra
said.
“But you are
chained. A woman with child cannot
be treated like this. You will
miscarry.”
“That is for me to worry about,”
Larra replied. “No one must
know of this. Tell me that you
will say nothing.”
Bowing before Larra’s gaze, Rupali nodded
her acceptance. And then there
was no more time for discussion.
They were on the move again, the all-too-short break
over. It was like that every
day for up to eight hours.
Even so the procession of slaves, guards,
servants, and harem girls, made very slow
progress. The column moved like
a giant caterpillar winding its way through the
forest. But it was a caterpillar
that took over four hours to get moving each day, the camp awakening long
before dawn to prepare for the march.
It was not until at least
Rupali
sighed. She was glad of the rest,
such as it was, but the monotony of sitting day after day under the rough
shelter that had been set up for her was beginning to wear upon
her. And there really wasn’t
as much rest for her as there might have
been. She was required to attend
to Larra, who was not capable of looking after
herself. That was a matter of
concern to Rupali. The beautiful
Englishwoman was beginning to sag under the continual
bondage. She was kept chained
for most of the day, her arms anchored so that her gorgeous body was always
painfully arched. Only once a
day was the bar and shackles removed in order to make sure that the skin
beneath was not festering from the chaffing it received from the
iron.
Larra had never explained why she was being
treated the way she was. She
alone of all the captives was the only one who was treated so
harshly. Somehow she had offended
the prince, but she would not divulge what she had done and Rupali was unable
to learn anything from the other
prisoners. And of course, it
was impossible to ask anything of the guards who treated all of the captives
with contempt.
Rain.
It streamed down endlessly, day and
night. The expedition had been
sitting in one place for three weeks waiting for the rain to break and the
ground to dry out. Each day a
few of the guards went out with spears and bows to
hunt. Food was now being rationed
and the once heaping bowl of rice Rupali had been given morning and night
had been cut in half.
Larra’s food had not been cut back and
because Rupali had to feed the Englishwoman it would have been easy to steal
an extra ration, but she had not done so.
She could not bring herself to take food from a pregnant
woman. To her surprise Larra
insisted that they share a portion of her food in any
case.
“I can’t,” Rupali had
protested. “You need it
more than me.”
“I am just sitting,” Larra
replied. “You are running
around all day keeping the camp
going.”
That was true
enough. When Rupali wasn’t
waiting on Larra she was required to go into the forest and collect firewood
as well as attend to other camp chores.
It kept her busy most of the day, but she found that she was now adjusting
to the unaccustomed workload. Tasks
that had once exhausted her she now handled fairly easily although with the
constant rain, the leeches, the endless heat and humidity, and the mud and
filth, her life was far from pleasant.
However, she now compared herself to
Larra. At least she was allowed
to move around. Being painfully
chained for twenty-three hours a day was a living
hell.
Rupali could have escaped had she
chosen. The problem was there
was no place to go. The only
way back was the trail through the
forest. At night the sounds of
wild animals including the roars of tigers made it clear that the forest
was a most dangerous place for those who did not know it, and most of the
captives in the camp were simple villagers or
farmers. The few who might have
tried to escape were kept chained like Larra, although not as
brutally.
Larra sat listening to the
rain. Her back, shoulders, and
arms throbbed in agony from the unnatural position of her arms, but her perfect
features were impassive. Sooner
or later the continual torment would break her; not even she could resist
forever. She could only hope
that her tormentor would tire of brutalizing her or somehow she would find
a way out of her predicament.
She hoped that James and Lin Yao were
safe. She had tremendous faith
in her twelve-year-old son. Even
though he was still a child he was more mature in many ways than many adults
she knew, and he was skilled in
woodcraft. James was a natural
outdoorsman and Larra had encouraged him in his
interests. With any luck her
son and her daughter were safe.
Less than thirty feet away a dozen or so Japanese
soldiers watched the village they had just torched
burn. It was no longer raining,
which was a blessing, but the ground was still damp from the last
cloudburst. Not that it
mattered. There wasn’t much
left of the clothing he and Lin Yao had been wearing when they
escaped. The forest was a tough
place in which to survive and he had lost his way several
times. Between forcing his way
through thick undergrowth and the continual rain of the monsoons much of
their clothing had either been torn away or had rotted due to the continual
heat and humidity.
Still, he and his sister were alive and had
managed to work their way back to the village near the ruins his mother had
been investigating. He had expected
to find his mother’s companion there; instead he found the
Japanese.
It was lucky that he and Lin Yao had not blundered
right into them, but he had been alerted by the sounds of shots and the smell
of burning buildings. Even so
it had been a near thing when the soldiers had emerged from the forest just
a few feet away. He had only
had time to push Lin Yao to the ground and throw himself flat beside
her. Now he waited for the soldiers
to leave so that he could get his sister to safety.
With some relief he heard the soldiers moving
away. He strained his ears to
hear what they were saying, but the noise of the burning buildings made it
impossible to hear anything distinctly.
Slowly he raised his head and peered between the fronds of the
large-leafed plant he had thrown himself
beneath. His eyes widened in
horror.
He was looking upon a clearing in the
forest. Centred in it were several
native huts, all of them wreathed in smoke and
flames. But it was not the burning
buildings that had caught his attention.
Emerging from the other side of the clearing were several other Japanese
soldiers. Two of them were dragging
someone between them; someone that James knew well.
It appeared that she had put up a bit of a
fight. Her clothing was torn,
exposing a little of the exquisite body beneath it, and her wrists were bound
behind her. Other ropes bound
her arms, crisscrossing her body above and below her
breasts. She swayed unsteadily
between the two men that held her and James could see that her high cheekbones
were bruised where she had been struck and her full lower lip was cut.
The Japanese surrounded her, the first group
of soldiers jabbering at the second.
James noted that there did not appear to be any officers or senior
non-commissioned officers present.
That was both good and bad.
James knew that the Japanese military hierarchy was extremely
rigid. Lower-ranking soldiers
were expected to do what they had been told, not to act on their
own.
Although young, James was not ignorant of
what war was all about. He had
an avid interest in history, an interest that had been fostered by his
mother. He had read enough to
know that in war terrible things were often done by soldiers, especially
where women were concerned. As
far as he could tell the prisoner had not suffered the
worst. She had been captured,
but did not appear to have been molested in the way that women sometimes
were. How long that lasted depended
on her captors. The Japanese
soldiers might have orders to take any prisoners to their superiors or they
might decide to deal with her themselves.
In that case…
James let that thought
go. He pulled back a little farther
into his hiding place. What he
was facing was totally unexpected.
He had done as his mother had instructed him; kept Lin Yao safe and
returned to the village near the archeological site his mother and her friend
had been mapping. Instead of
help, however, he had found the Japanese.
What the Japanese army was doing in
He waited until the Japanese soldiers and
their prisoner moved off and then got to his
feet. Taking Lin Yao’s hand
he led her back the way he had come.
Just a mile or so back he had come across an abandoned hut probably
once used by labourers working on the nearby rubber
plantation. It was run-down,
but the roof was intact and he could safely leave Lin Yao there while he
played hero. It was a bit of
a twist. He had fled south looking
for help for his mother. Now
before he could do that he first had to provide a bit of help
himself. It was a bit much for
a boy not yet in his teens, but he had no
choice. If he was not successful
there was no telling what might happen to his mother.
Larra was suddenly aware of a change in her
surroundings. She had been dozing,
trying to get a little sleep.
There wasn’t much else she could do anyway and she usually slept
fitfully due to the pain caused by the shackles that held her
arms. She struggled to her feet
and looked outside her rude shelter.
The rain had stopped. After
so many days without a halt the sudden silence was almost
overwhelming.
Rupali came up the
path. She smiled when she saw
Larra and then her expression turned
serious. “We have to go,”
she said. “The prince wants
to push on before the rain
returns.”
Larra saw that the camp was indeed
stirring. After several weeks
in one place the routine of packing
away the numerous awnings and other camp equipment had begun
again. Already a line of slaves
and their escorts was moving up the trail.
A few minutes later one of the soldiers showed
up. Larra recognized him as one
of the men responsible for guarding her and made no effort to resist as she
and Rupali were once again connected by the ten foot length of chain they
always wore while on the march.
If it had been painful before, the next few
hours of the trek made the previous march seem like a pleasant summer stroll.
The narrow forest trail resembled
a pig wallow; especially for those who went last as was the case with Larra
and Rupali. They were forced
to march through ankle deep muck that sometimes deepened to
mid-calf. Sandals were no help
in these conditions and in any case they lost their shoes within a few minutes
of struggling through the mud.
Conditions were no better for her escort, but at least the men guarding
them were free of restraints.
Larra hoped that as the day wore on the tropical
heat would dry the trail, but she was not
optimistic. By the time she and
Rupali reached the trail several thousand feet had already passed over
it. Nothing the heat of the sun
could do would improve it quickly enough to make any
difference. As a result, the
next few hours were agony. Each
step was a battle requiring that the foot be pulled free of the clinging
mud before taking another step.
Within a few minutes both Larra and Rupali were feeling the strain
of the walk. Inside of an hour
they were almost exhausted. But
the there was no choice but to go on.
The guards escorting them were quick to use the shafts of their spears
if either woman faltered. Larra,
as a member of the harem, was spared somewhat, but Rupali was
not. She cried out as the haft
of a spear struck her hard across the
shoulders.
Larra, attempted to quicken her pace in order
that the girl not be beaten, but even free of the brutal restraints that
Larra wore, the Indian girl was not in the same physical condition that Larra
was. She stumbled frequently,
soiling her sari. Within a few
minutes she was covered from head to foot in
mud. It didn’t take long
before Larra was identically decorated.
For both women the trek became a battle against exhaustion, but the
threat of a severe beating kept them going, until finally they were allowed
a brief rest.
Both women collapsed as the column came to
a halt. Larra did not know how
far they had come, but she guessed it was not
far. The prince must have become
impatient at the long rain delay or perhaps the expedition was running short
of food. Whatever the reason
everyone in the column was subjected to a terrible ordeal, one that lasted
until the column finally lurched to halt sometime in the early
afternoon.
It was an earlier than normal halt, and it
wasn’t hard for Larra to figure out
why. If everyone else was in
the same condition as she was it was likely that they were close to
collapse. Too exhausted to do
more than gulp down some water both she and Rupali simply lay where they
were, not even bothering to seek shelter.
For Rupali, however, the rest was
short. An hour after they had
stopped one of the guards released her from the chain and ordered her to
go about her duties.
Fear of being beaten overcame her
exhaustion. Rupali dragged herself
to her feet and helped in the setting up of the
camp. Fortunately there were
a lot of others in the same condition she
was. Her movements, although
slow, were not much different from those of the other slaves and for once
the guards seemed willing to make allowances for the fact that everything
seemed to happen in slow motion.
Eventually she was allowed to return to
Larra. She brought food and water,
but found that the Englishwoman was
asleep. Rupali, so tired herself
that she could barely stand, decided to leave her that
way. Sleep for the moment was
probably more important than either food or
water. Placing the bowl of rice
on the ground and the gourd of water next to it, Rupali lay down beside her
mistress and fell into an exhausted sleep.
She and Larra both awoke just before
dawn. During the night something
had stolen Larra’s small bowl of
rice. It might have been one
of the guards or perhaps a creature from the forest; it really didn’t
matter, Larra drank from the gourd and waited without
complaint.
Rupali gazed at the Englishwoman in silent
admiration. Despite her coating
of filth she was till undeniably the most beautiful woman Rupali had ever
seen and was certainly the strongest
physically. Even after
yesterday’s ordeal she seemed quite ready to resume the trek without
complaint. Rupali on the other
hand shuddered at the thought of taking to the trail
again.
As if guessing her thoughts Larra smiled at
the girl. “Don’t worry,
Rupali. You’ll make
it. You are young and strong
and the path will be drier today.”
Rupali shook her head.
“I’m too
fat. I’m not strong enough
for this.”
“You are stronger than you think,”
Larra replied quietly. “I
will walk slowly. I do not think
the guards will beat a member of the prince’s
harem. Just keep in step with
me.”
Rupali nodded and got to her
feet. She tried not to
groan. She had duties to attend
to. It was best she was at them
before a blow from a bamboo staff reminded her of
them.
Larra turned out to be
right. The trek was not as hard
as it had been on the precious day.
The track was almost dry and got drier as the day
progressed. In addition, the
prince or whoever was in charge of the procession did not push the column
very hard. Apparently he understood
that another day’s forced march would result in a considerable loss
of his precious slaves. They
went slowly and steadily and stopped early as they had the day
before.
The next day the rain returned, but the march
did not halt. By this time the
ground had changed. Instead of
muddy forest trails they were now walking over well worn stone and although
they continued to move in an upward direction the trek was not nearly as
arduous.
Larra knew that they were heading into the
mountainous region of central
In spite of her perilous situation Larra could
not help wondering about the people who had taken her
prisoner. As an explorer,
archeologist, and anthropologist her scientific curiosity was
aroused. Who were these
people? Where did they
live? And what sort of civilization
did they have? Eventually she
knew that all of these questions would be answered, provided she survived
the trek.
By now she had been a prisoner for over three
months. She guessed that it was
near the end of June and the temperature should have been stifling hot except
for the fact that she was now several thousand feet above sea level and still
climbing. She was also more than
three months pregnant, and knew that she could not hide her condition for
much longer. Already she could
detect a slight thickening of her waist.
Her breasts had also increased in size and the normally rose pink
nipples and areola had darkened.
These were all signs that were easily detectable if anyone had cared
to take a careful look.
She wondered what would
happen when the guards reported her
condition. The prince was sure
to be interested in the fact that she carried the child of his rape, although
she doubted that he thought of it that
way.
The next two weeks they were continually on
the march through both rain and shine.
Larra never saw the prince although she had no doubt that the guards
kept him informed about her. She
felt no ill effects of the growing fetus inside
her. For her, except for morning
sickness during the early stages, pregnancy had always been
pleasant. The flow of hormones
into her body seemed to make her stronger and the one time she had stayed
with the father of her child he had commented that she seemed to grow more
beautiful as the fetus matured.
Still, she worried. Her
arms and shoulders were agonizingly painful and so stiff from the unnatural
position that during the short time each day that she was released from her
cruel chains she could barely move her arms and she had to fight back a cry
of anguish when the guards did it for
her.
There was also never enough food and she was
always hungry. Mindful of the
fact that she was now eating for two she worried about the effects on the
life within her. She had not
desired this pregnancy, but she had no wish for the developing fetus to suffer
because of it. She could not,
however, bring herself to tell the guards that she was carrying the child
of their master. That was one
humiliation she was not prepared to face.
Matters concerning her health, however, were
soon taken out of her hands. It
happened during the daily inspection of her
chains. For some reason the guards
were accompanied by one of the members of the harem, a young women called
Sidi, that Larra had been on good terms with prior to her attempt to
escape. Perhaps the prince wanted
to be sure that his prize concubine was not suffering any permanent physical
damage due to the brutal way he had ordered her
restrained. More likely, he wanted
a report as to whether or not his treatment had broken her proud
spirit. The brown-skinned girl
studied Larra intently, her dark eyes sweeping over her
body. She said nothing, but Larra
guessed she was not fooled.
That was confirmed a short time later when
the guards returned. They closed
in about her, one on each side and marched her to the tent occupied by the
prince. She had little choice
but to comply. She had been forced
to do everything demanded of her ever since the prince had decided to shackle
her arms so painfully. Unless
she could find a way to free herself from the painful bondage there was little
hope of escape.
That all changed soon after she and Rupali
were paraded before the prince. As
soon as she entered the part of his palatial tent that served as his audience
chamber several female attendants descended upon
her. The painful restraints pinning
her arms were released and she was given a quick examination by the
women. Larra knew what they were
looking for, but there was little she could do to stop
them.
Finished their inspection they spoke to the
prince. “It is as Sidi said,
my lord. The white woman is with
child.”
Prince Selwin smiled
arrogantly. “So, my seed
was so potent it found fertile ground the first time I took
you. You are not so powerful
after all. My seed has tamed
you and now you are mine to do with as I wish.”
“How typical of a man to measure himself
by his ability to impregnate a helpless woman,” Larra
returned. “You took me by
force and what is taken by force is not rightfully
his. I will never be
yours.”
“Perhaps not,” the prince sneered,
“but your child will be. I
will make certain of that. In
the meantime I think you have once again earned the right to entertain
me.”
Larra felt a stab of fear at the prince’s
reference to the child she was carrying.
It might be a child conceived by rape, but she had no intention of
giving it up to the man who had violated
her. She almost missed the second
part of the prince’s declaration until the guards took hold of her and
began to escort her from the room.
Her arms freed she was now able to strike
at the men who held her, but she saw at once that such an effort would be
futile. She was surrounded by
more than a dozen men and she now had her child to think
of. Unresisting she let them
lead her away.
Rupali watched in despair as Larra was led
from the room. During her several
week association with the tall Englishwoman she had forged a strong
bond. Larra was the only person
who had ever made her feel as if she was worth
anything. She wanted to help,
but was helpless to do anything.
And then the prince’s gaze fell upon
her.
“Where has that one been hiding?”
he asked. “Take her
also. I will have the white skinned
woman and this one as well.”
It took Rupali a few seconds to realize that
the prince was talking about her.
Her eyes widened in shock and then fear as she realized that she had
been singled out and then the guards closed about
her. Trembling with fear she
was led from the room.
“It’s a mistake,” she
thought. “He can’t
want me.” But she knew that
there had been no mistake. The
prince had looked directly at her.
Terrified, but at the same time strangely flattered,
Rupali followed after Larra, wondering if her nightmare
(or was it an erotic dream?)
would ever end.
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