When King Maxos died a great raft was built, burial garments were sewn, animals were slaughtered, the gods and spirits were prayed to, poems were written, and people took turns lying on family graves to gain strength and inspiration from the dead in hopes that significant prayers could be uttered over the king’s body. It was a tradition that the funeral should last for ten days. It was also tradition that man, woman, and child drink mead every day of the ten days to ensure that they remained drunk during all their waking moments. This tradition did not apply to slaves.
I am a slave. I was captured at thirteen in my village and taken north to the forested land. I have been bought, sold and passed around twelve times until the King died. I wish I could say I only helped plow fields, or dig for potatoes, or cooked. I did those things but I was also a sex slave to barbarous men and made to perform revolting acts that turned my stomach.
On the third day, a lord asked all of the slave girls who would volunteer to be buried with the king. I raised my hand. For six days, I would be treated as a queen. I would have my own court and preside over the drunken heathens. I was given a golden gown and a crown of jewels. I was no one’s sex slave.
On the ninth day, they took my gown and crown and led me to the raft where the king lay. He was blackened and shriveled. He had been smoked for nine days with fragrant wood chips. I was tied to the raft and the king’s chiefs took turns and raped me until the last one tied a rope around my neck and strangled me until I was dead. The raft was then set on fire as it floated out into the cold sea.
In the custom of my people, my spirit lifted from my ashes into the sea air until it entered the breast of a hefty crow. I flew across the sea and land with wonderful freedom. As I flapped my wings past the forest to an open field I was shot down with an arrow. A warrior plucked me and roasted me over a spit. He then consumed me. I am now a prisoner in his soul – mired in clotted blood, spears, and uncomfortable armor. I do not cry.
Even brief freedom makes existence bearable.