A League of Ladies (Slave of the Aristocracy Book 5) Read online

  Slave of the Aristocracy, Book Five:

  A League of Ladies

  by Ashley Zacharias

  Copyright (c) 2014 Ashley Zacharias

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction, either in whole or in part, in any form. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Sir Drake led his new purchase, the beautiful pleasure slave named Irene, from the auction floor. He held the chain leash tightly against the possibility that she would try to jerk it out of his hand and flee.

  Though she was nude, her hands were cuffed behind her back, and the penalty for an attempted escape was crucifixion, she might well resort to such a desperate measure.

  A month ago, she had humiliated Sir Drake in front of his son by helping her previous owner’s niece prevail against him in court.

  Before the auction began, Drake had come to her in her cage and had told her clearly and plainly that he would buy her in the auction, take her directly to the city dump, and cut off her head.

  His twenty-two-year-old son, Geoffrey, had told her with some enthusiasm that they had brought a butcher knife with them to do the job.

  Now they owned her. They had outbid everyone else at the auction and she was Sir Drake’s personal property. The law allowed an owner to do whatever he wished with his property, including disposing of it.

  She would be dead within the hour.

  As they walked through the dispersing crowd, the son bounded along behind his father and their new slave like an eager puppy. When they got to the dump, he was going to ask his father if he would be permitted to do the honors. He wanted to feel her windpipe, veins, arteries, muscles, and ligaments part under the blade. After he twisted her vertebrae apart and chucked her head aside, he would lift her golden collar from the bloody stub of her neck and present it to his father.

  He could hardly wait.

  From the auction floor, they were directed to a small room where a clerk would finalize the transaction. It would take only a few minutes to verify the slave registration number tattooed on the back of her neck, record the transfer of property on the official records, and arrange payment.

  As soon as the formalities were complete, they would drive directly to the place of her execution. They wouldn’t even bother taking a few minutes to enjoy her body before they disposed of her.

  She had no hope that Sir Drake would default on his payment. She had been sold for a considerable sum – a hundred thousand plaquettes sterling was at the top end of slave sales – but Sir Drake was the wealthiest knight in the city by far and could easily pay that much many times over.

  She couldn’t help but map out the schedule of the rest of her life. Five minutes to complete the sale, twenty minutes to drive to the city dump, a minute to drag her out of the car, and less than two minutes to amputate her head. This was the last half hour of her life. She would take fewer than three hundred breaths between now and when she would breathe no more.

  She held her head high. Sir Drake could kill her, but he couldn’t humiliate her any more.

  She was barely listening when the clerk said, “I’m sorry, sir, but there is an irregularity in her paperwork. I have to verify that her ownership was legally transferred from Lord Snow to Professor Krauss a few months ago. Apparently she was wagered as stakes in a poker game and there is some question about whether she was acquired by fraud.”

  Drake flushed with fury. “What the hell are you talking about? I purchased her in good faith in your auction a few minutes ago. I don’t give a damn about some poker game that was played months ago.”

  The clerk quailed slightly. “I understand how anxious you are to take possession of this fine slave, sir.” Undoubtedly the clerk believed that Drake and Geoffrey were eager to fuck their new pleasure slave. He was wrong on that point. They had no intention of fucking her. Sex was a celebration of life and they only wanted to celebrate her death. “I apologize profusely, but we have to check her provenance before we can transfer her ownership to you. The regulations are strict and we are audited constantly. Don’t worry, though, I’m sure that we’ll get this cleared up in a few minutes.” He nodded to a burly handler.

  Sir Drake didn’t resist when the handler took the end of Irene’s leash from his hand. “This is nonsense. You wouldn’t have put her on the block if her ownership was in any doubt.”

  That was true. The dubious poker game was water long passed under the bridge. Since then, she had been sold again privately. If there were any doubts about who owned her, it would have been questioned months ago when the professor had transferred her to Jack Everley and his friends. And, of course, before the auction, her paperwork had been examined yet again. Even if Lord Snow was certain that he had been cheated in that poker game, there was no way that it would ever be proven at this late date. This nonsense was only delaying the inevitable.

  “If you would like to have a seat, we would be happy to bring you a cup of coffee or tea.”

  “How long is this going to take?”

  “Not long, sir. Not long at all. I hope that you won’t even have time to finish a cup before this sale is cleared.”

  Irene heard no more. The handler led her from the room back to the slave processing area.

  She stood in a hallway for a long time, naked with her hands cuffed behind her back and the leash dangling from her neck. Drake certainly had time to finish a mug of coffee. He had time to finish several mugs if he wanted.

  By rights, she should have been dead, her head and body discarded separately in the dump long before the time when she was still waiting in the hallway.

  During their wait, the handler remained with her but said nothing, for which she was grateful. Her thoughts were in turmoil. Was this to be her salvation? Was her ownership to revert back to Lord Snow?

  She didn’t dare believe that patent nonsense. But she couldn’t stop hope from blossoming in her breast.

  She had no watch; she could only estimate that about an hour had passed before the clerk stuck his head through the door and said, “We’re ready.”

  The handler led her back into the counting room.

  “Her provenance has been cleared,” the clerk said to the handler. “Sir Drake has settled his account and the slave’s ownership has been legally transferred to him.”

  The handler passed the end of the leash to Sir Drake.

  “I want, again, to apologize for the delay, Sir Drake. But now there is no question that you own this slave, free and clear. She is yours beyond any doubt.” He handed the keys to the leash and cuffs to Drake.

  The delay had been a cruel trick. Irene should never have allowed herself to hope for escape. Breathing was an effort. Her head felt as light as her heart felt heavy.

  They would be at the dump in twenty minutes. Irene would be dead three minutes after that.

  Sir Drake led her from the auction house. Slaves were removed by a side door that led to a portico where the new owner could load his purchase into his car.

  After every auction, a small crowd of commoners gathered at a discreet distance to catch a glimpse of the beautiful naked pleasure slaves as they were taken away, soon to be used by their new masters to sate their lust.

  Irene barely looked at the crowd, but she noticed that they were gathered much closer to the portico than as customary.

  “Sir Drake. If I could have a moment of your time.”

  That was a familiar voice. Irene looked up to see the Governor of Arctus appr
oaching. She looked at the other faces in the crowd. Lords, all. Including her ex-husband, Lord Fortson, and a number of his friends.

  Drake didn’t dare ignore the governor. He hid his impatience and nodded his head as gracefully as he could manage. “Of course, Lord Governor.”

  “I’m afraid that we find ourselves in a bit of a dilemma – a situation that has never before arisen – and I beg your indulgence.”

  “Governor?”

  “It seems that you have purchased Lord Fortson’s wife.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Drake rallied. “I understand that this slave is his ex-wife. But that’s history. She’s not married to him now. She’s been a slave for a year. Slaves can’t be married.”

  “As it turns out, that is not entirely true. This extraordinary case has been winding its way through the courts for most of the last year and the judges have finally ruled. Allow me to explain this slave’s unique circumstances.

  “It is true that a slave is property and cannot enter into any contract, including a contract of marriage. Those few slaves who are born into slavery can never get married. All the rest of our slaves were impressed or adjudicated into slavery, and the court order always includes dissolution of all existing marriages and engagements.

  “All except the former Lady Irene. She was neither born into slavery nor was she enslaved by court order. Last year, she enslaved herself. As nearly as we can determine, she is the first slave in history to have done so. She was married when she sold herself and no court ever dissolved her marriage.

  “Lord Fortson’s lawyers have established to the judges’ satisfaction that no law has ever been passed that prohibits a slave from being married. The combination of the law that prohibited slaves from entering into new marriage contracts and the law that dissolved existing marriages upon adjudication or impressment was considered sufficient to ensure that no slave would ever be anyone’s wife.

  “But Irene slipped through an unanticipated legal crack when she put herself on the block.

  “There is no question that you own this slave. You purchased her in good faith. But there is also no question that she is Lord Fortson’s wife.”

  Sir Drake’s temper got the better of him. “Then he can damn well divorce her.”

  “I don’t want to divorce Irene,” Lord Fortson said. “I love her.”

  That was news to Irene. When she was married to James, she often wondered if he had ever loved her. She certainly hadn’t felt loved during the last couple of years before her voluntary enslavement.

  “Then you’re a fool,” Drake said to Fortson. “For a whole year, your wife’s been fucking half the men in the city, gentlemen and commoners alike.”

  “Are you calling me a cuckold?” Lord Fortson’s voice was soft but his tone was dangerous.

  Irene glanced at the lords who were standing behind him. She knew all of them and most of them had fucked her at one time or another during the past year. Several of them looked embarrassed. Lord Snow actually blushed.

  Sir Drake didn’t care. His mind was on one track, only. “I have a simple solution for you, Lord Fortson. I’ll dispose of my property and make you a widower this very day. Without question, that will relieve you of any further obligation to her. You can find her corpse at the city dump if you wish to verify that death has parted you from your wife.” He sneered, “Or if you want to give a slave a funeral.”

  Lord Fortson stared at Sir Drake calmly and didn’t bother responding.

  “I don’t think that is a satisfactory solution,” the governor said, mildly. “I think it would be much better if you agreed to sell this slave and relieve yourself of the burden of owning another man’s wife.”

  Irene stared at the governor. He was offering to buy her? No slave wanted to be owned by him. He entertained on a massive scale almost every night. His pleasure slaves worked almost as hard as brothel slaves. But even that would be better than being beheaded with a butcher knife in the city dump.

  “I don’t want to sell her. You agreed that I own her. Under the law, I may dispose of her as I wish. Nobody can stop me.” If Sir Drake raised his voice another half decibel, he would be yelling at the governor.

  Geoffrey was watching the interaction between his wealthy father and the politically powerful governor with wide, shining eyes.

  “That is true,” the governor said. “You own this slave and you may kill her if you wish. The law will not stop you. But I strongly advise you not to kill Lord Fortson’s wife. That would be an exceptionally bad idea.”

  “He’ll just have to get over it.” Drake stepped towards his waiting car, jerking hard on Irene’s leash.

  She stumbled after him.

  The governor held up his hand. “Before you leave, you had better hear what will happen tomorrow if you persist in this course of action.”

  Drake swiveled to face the governor again. “What?”

  “Lord Fortson tells me that, should you touch his wife, he intends to table an edict of attainder before the Assembly of Lords tomorrow.” The governor waved casually at the crowd of lords who were standing behind him. “As you can see, he already has strong support from nine other lords. They have taken time from their schedule to come here on short notice. That’s no mean thing. Lord Fortson requires only thirty-eight votes to pass an edict of attainder. If each of these lords can raise the support of an additional three friends, then the edict will pass.

  “Let me speak plainly, Sir Drake. You have little personal support among the lords, and in this matter, you will not be able to buy their votes. How can the lords be bought for any fraction of your wealth when the alternative is acquiring of all of it? Putting your wealth into the treasury will give them a substantial period of tax relief. That will be very attractive to every lord in the assembly.

  “The lords will pass the edict, and I can assure you that if an edict of attainder is presented to me, I will proclaim it immediately. There is no question that, with the strength of support that Lord Fortson has already mustered here, you will not survive the death of his wife by more than a few days. Neither you, nor the members of your family.”

  The blood drained from Drake’s face.

  Geoffrey looked puzzled. He had no idea what an edict of attainder was.

  Irene knew. She had seen such edicts enacted before on two occasions. An edict of attainder was a declaration naming a specific person as an outlaw. No charges or conviction by trial were necessary. The person was instantly defined as guilty under the law. Upon proclamation that person was subject to the terms of the edict. Invariably, his or her title and all personal wealth were forfeit to the government treasury. The edict typically included a warrant of imprisonment, exile, or execution for the person named and for named members of his or her family.

  The governor had made it clear that the edict that Lord Fortson was proposing would not stop at imprisonment or exile. Sir Drake, his son, and his wife would be executed immediately upon proclamation.

  Sir Drake hesitated.

  Irene was appalled. The man was actually considering sacrificing himself and his immediate family just for the chance to cut her head off.

  “I want to be reasonable, Sir Drake,” the governor said. “We all want to be reasonable. We don’t have a personal vendetta against you. Lord Fortson is asking only that you recognize this extraordinary situation and do the right thing for him, for yourself, and for your son.

  Drake looked at Geoffrey and his face caved. The man did love his son.

  He shrugged. “Then I will sell Irene to Lord Fortson for what I paid for her.” His face narrowed to present a vulpine aspect. “Plus a few plaqs to cover my time and expenses.”

  The governor gestured to Lord Fortson.

  James, in turn, gestured to someone else in the group.

  A small, mousy-looking man stepped out from behind the gathered lords.

  Irene recognized him as Llewellyn Smith, Esquire, a solicitor who handled some of Lord Fortson’s affairs.<
br />
  “Actually, Sir Drake,” Smith said, “I would be happy to pay fair price for the slave, but I believe that you paid considerably more than her market value. She was sold at auction for a hundred thousand plaqs a year ago, but she was a novelty then. When those gentlemen were bidding on her, she was still Lady Fortson. Now, as you pointed out, yourself, she has been owned by four different men and has been used by half of the men in Westmouth, gentlemen and commoners alike. I do not believe that a hundred thousand plaqs is her current market value. In fact, I’ve done some research on slave prices. Only new slaves, slaves with no previous owners, ever bring that amount of money. Very few previously-owned slaves fetch more than fifty thousand. The bid at the auction was forty-thousand plaqs before you made the dramatic gesture of jumping to a hundred thousand. I believe that her fair market value is actually the forty-thousand that was offered before you overbid. I am prepared to pay that much for her.”

  Drake’s face flushed with anger. “Like hell!” He stepped forward until he was looming over Mr. Smith.

  The smaller man didn’t flinch. He met Drake’s stare and waited for a further, more reasonable reaction.

  None was forthcoming.

  After a minute, Smith said, “If you don’t wish to discuss this any further, then I assume that forty-thousand is acceptable.” He drew a chequebook from his breast pocket.

  Drake turned on the governor. “This isn’t right. Irene is no ordinary slave. She’s a unique piece of property. There was still active bidding at forty-thousand plaqs. The bid would have risen to a hundred thousand even if I hadn’t been involved.”

  Irene was bemused. A few minutes earlier, Sir Drake had been about to destroy property worth a hundred thousand. Now he was quibbling about being reimbursed for only forty percent of what he would have thrown away if the governor hadn’t intervened.

  The governor waved his hand in a weary gesture. “You’re wasting my time and the time of ten lords over a few plaqs. This does not amuse us. You, there,” he pointed to Llewellyn Smith, “write a cheque to Sir Drake for twenty-thousand plaqs.” He looked at Drake. “And you will accept that as payment in full for this slave without another word.”