The Contract Marriage (1)

There lived a rich landlord by the name of Huya in Jub, a northern city of the Froyale kingdom.

It was his big day of taking his one of the teenage servants in his house, Jesauma in as his second wife even without consent of his original spouse, Kilahya.

Kilahya, daughter to a famous Scribe in Jub was married to Huya when she was at the tender age of sixteen. The marriage, secretly arranged by her father and Huya without her knowledge four years ago, was merely built on the promise given to the Scribe by Huya, whereby a piece of land close by the river of Senio was granted to the Scribe for a decade.

Married to the richest man in the city, Kilahya was not the luckiest girl as seen in public. To Huya, she was not more than a slave who was only called to keep him company in late nights. Kilahya kept silent in the last four years, internalising misery every early morning when Huya was done with his beastliness on her living corpse.

It was only last year that Jesauma caught his attention while cleaning Kilahya’s feet in her room.

“What is your name?”

“Jesauma, master.”

Kilahya was disgusted by his lustful look. Huya then left the two women with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You, clean the pail,” ordered Kilahya. “Dress me!” Few servants came in with her robe and jeweleries.

Jesauma was like any other ordinary seventeen-year-old girl except she was quiet and more introverted. Among the servants, she was greatly praised for her diligence inherited by her late mother who was also a slave to Huya.

On the big occasion, a wedding ritual took place at the courtyard. Many gathered to witness Huya’s second marriage. Even the slaves were granted permission to attend the ceremony but to only see from a fenced corner next to the horse stable. All the slaves were cheering for the girl who would be unshackled soon.

It was a Froyale’s tradition that a male slave must be chained from his neck to his right wrist while a female to her left. The master had total rights to rule, sell, grant liberty and even kill him or her. It was not a common practice for a free man to take a slave as his wife. For Huya to take her in as wife, he would first need to perform a ritual of unshackling the slave.

Jesauma, sitting at the right side under a pair of fans made of feathers, was veiled with thin white linen over her head. Accessorized with huge golden neck piece and arm bangles, her dazzling beauty dwarfed Kilahya on her wedding day four years ago.

While sitting at the left corner, Kilahya kept her head high but her eyes uncontrollably studied every guest from the corner of her sharp sight. For all that she cared, she only wished Huya to stop trampling her after marrying this worthless slave.

Huya came in with a march of musicians from the entrance to the courtyard happily. Out of the crowd who cheered for him, there were few voices jeered at his action. He sat beside his wife-to-be and wrapped his hands around her bosoms from behind.

The crowd cheered even louder while men toasting to each other. Kilahya remained motionless with her empty stare that had strayed miles away. The old man became excited and could not wait to display the precious gem he would own on this very day. The priests stepped forwards and removed his hands, then signaled the music to stop.

“On this day, Jesauma, a slave to Huya would be unchained for she will soon be of Huya’s flesh. It is time for us to celebrate this great honor and freedom that do not come often in this city,” said the priest.

“It was only Huya’s kindness that allows this slave to be set free. From now on, she will be known as Huya’s wife!”

Everyone began to cheer again. Huya gave out the loudest laugh among the noises.

The ritual began. Jesauma stood up and crawled to the priests with her face looked down to the floor. The priests raised her chin gently and sprinkled few drop of olive oils around her neck. Then he unshackled the chain on her neck. He then did the same on her left wrist too. The shackle was taken off. Jesauma stood up slowly after the priest wiped gold powder across her forehead. She was finally set free from slavery.

Kilahya smirked from afar.

Little did Jesauma know she would still be a slave to Huya. Not for the better but worse. Jesauma sat by the bed, clueless of what would happen next. She was told by an old lady who was among the slaves that her duty as a wife would be to bring pleasure to his man but pain to her body.

Huya pushed open the door with his violent might and grabbed her by her waist. Before she could struggle, Huya’s hands had taken over her breasts. He kissed her from the back like he was about to break her neck. Out of a sudden, he ripped off her clothes and threw her to the ground. Jesauma retreated to the edge of the window, helplessly crawled like an infant who cried for her mother. Huya grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the bed.

“Master, stop...stop…” Jesauma pleaded in pain.

“I will treat you good, you hear me. But you must be obedient, Jesauma. My beautiful one,” Huya then laid on her, gorging every part of her flesh like a hungry wolf throughout the night.

Carrying the title as Huya’s wife, Jesauma was no longer restricted from entering the temple, the sacred place no slaves allowed to enter. It was her very first visit to the temple, to offer worship to the Fush-urah, the goddess of fertility as a free woman.

(to be continued)