WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Malfoid

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◈ Fragments of Thorns and a Cradle ◈

Chapter 12

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Content Warning: sexual exploitation and slavery; suicidal thoughts or self-harm; underage sexual exploitation.

Agnes was the daughter of a female slave belonging to a baron. The baron was an old, faithful retainer of San Arzok, a knight who guarded the marquess's rear.

At fifteen, he acquired the female slave. At twenty, he had Agnes, but he never grew attached to her. Agnes had an older brother who died before reaching one hundred days old, and a younger half brother who shared her father.

As was common for children whose mothers were noble concubines, boys led worthless lives unless chosen as heirs. Agnes's younger brother was no different. After their mother hanged herself, he wished to become a monk.

Their father did not stop him. He had never felt affection for his illegitimate children. When the boy fled to a monastery, their father wanted to sell off his remaining daughter as someone's concubine. A nobleman happened to want Agnes as a secondary wife.

Her father wanted Agnes gone as quickly as possible. He wanted to sell her and never see her again. Had the Marquess of Gwendel not seen her walking in the baron's garden, Agnes would have been forced to become the secondary wife of a sixty-year-old man at fifteen.

Like others who were half noble and half slave, Agnes did not have an easy life. Her father was especially harsh toward children born to concubines.

A man's first woman was said to be memorable. Before they came of age, knights sometimes enjoyed brief romances with women their parents assigned them. But Agnes's father had been particularly unwilling to accept the female slave chosen by his parents.

So Agnes's mother never even had the good years other concubines had. Perhaps that was why she had taken her own life, leaving a house where no affection remained.

In any case, Agnes's mother was a woman who did not love her master. Agnes became a woman who followed in her mother's footsteps. Pitifully, that was what she was.

"You love Randolph."

It had been when the Marquess of Gwendel, Randolph, and Agnes were lovers. Randolph brought his fiancée to meet Agnes.

'This is Lucrezia of Durak. She is the bride you will serve.'

'Yes. Hello, my lady. I am Agnes.'

'Hello, Agnes. You are as lovely as I heard.'

Lucrezia answered her kindly. Agnes looked at the woman. She was the woman Randolph had spoken of the previous night.

Before his marriage, Randolph had told Agnes about Lucrezia and said she would be the mistress Agnes must serve. Agnes was Randolph's concubine, so she must naturally serve his wife as a slave.

Agnes nodded. She thought it would be all right.

What did she think would be all right?

Everything. She believed everything would be all right. Nothing would change very much, because that was Agnes's life and fate.

She had resolved herself again and again. Everything she had seen in her life resembled what would happen next, so there was nothing terribly shocking about it.

Just as some noblewomen were fated to meet the women laughing between their husbands' legs before marriage, lowly slaves who could not have husbands were fated to meet their masters' wives. It was inevitable and could not be escaped.

What Agnes had failed to do better than her mother, what made her more miserable, was that she loved her master. That made her already wretched life even more ridiculous.

"That's not true, my lady. I exist for you and His Lordship. I will always do my utmost to make your marriage happy."

She chattered on without a shred of sincerity. Lucrezia merely smiled faintly.

She seemed uninterested in both Randolph and Agnes. Sometimes, even San Arzok's enormous castle and immense wealth seemed unimportant to her. She was the daughter of a power equal to a royal house.

All the men in the world must have looked laughable and insignificant to her. No woman was as noble as she was, so nothing expensive a man gave her could seem precious. It was only natural.

And Agnes envied Lucrezia's ease and pride.

Though one could not possess what one was born with, Agnes longed not for Lucrezia's rank or place, but for the smile Lucrezia could wear because she was Lucrezia.

Because Lucrezia had been born holding everything, she did not envy or resent anyone. She was not troubled by a mere woman her future husband kept.

Lucrezia had too many important things to concern herself with. This marriage had too much to offer her.

"Thank you, Agnes."

Lucrezia smiled gently at her.

Agnes stared at her. The man who had shared vulgar, intimate words with Agnes the night before was now escorting Lucrezia with the utmost courtesy.

A smile he had never given Agnes. Manners he had never shown Agnes. His respectful treatment was knightly, while Lucrezia received it as a perfectly elegant lady.

Agnes felt deprived. She had thought it would all be fine. When Randolph told her the night before that he would bring his fiancée, she had been fine. She had smiled and promised, "I'll behave properly."

She was a concubine. Agnes believed becoming the concubine of a young, beautiful, powerful man was better than becoming the secondary wife of a sixty-year-old man. Randolph, whom she had met at fifteen five years earlier, had been especially sweet and intense, but his beautiful face had made her fall in love with him too.

There were reasons she had felt happy to become Randolph's woman.

'My master said he loves me. He said I'm beautiful, that I'm lovely as an angel. So he's not like Father. He will cherish me and my child.'

The only example of a man and woman Agnes had grown up seeing was a master and his concubine. She had assumed all masters with concubines were fierce, capricious, and cold.

Her mother had been treated little better than the household slaves. The status of illegitimate sons and daughters in a castle depended upon their father, and Agnes and her mother had never stood well. Her half siblings were always terrifying superiors to Agnes, as was their mother, the baroness.

Agnes feared the baroness as much as she feared her father. The best part of becoming Randolph's concubine and living on San Arzok was never needing to see them again.

So she believed she could endure the future that would come. Even if Randolph's affection cooled, she thought she could bear it as long as he did not become too cruel, as harsh as her father.

'I'll live well. I won't live like Mother.'

Agnes always thought so. Though born from a female slave, she would live better than her mother. She believed determination could change fate.

She was firmly resolved. Before Randolph's engagement, her close friend had even given her advice.

'It's not so bad, Agnes. I prefer it now that the count has lost interest in me. I told you once, didn't I? He was difficult. It was exhausting, and now that he's married and doesn't call for me, my sore mouth is finally healing.'

'Really?'

'Of course. And when he adored our child, he gave the child a villa. Once the little one is older, I think we'll live there.'

'Oh, that's wonderful.'

'You should make certain you receive something before the wedding too. Women like us never know what will happen. A marquess will provide for you well enough. Of course, only while he still has feelings for you.'

Her friend smiled bitterly. Watching her friend pat her young son to sleep, Agnes made a promise to herself.

'There's nothing bad about it. This was always going to happen. They say it may even be better. They say this is the best time to secure property. If I'm to gather a nest egg, now is the time...'

Agnes reassured herself.

"Agnes."

Randolph sought her out after seeing Lucrezia off. Agnes raised her head to face him. Randolph had returned to the expression she knew. He did not pull his mouth into a soft smile. He did not show her courtesy. He was simply a man.

"What are you thinking?"

Randolph's face hardened when he noticed something strange in her expression. Agnes shook her head. She blinked as familiar but terrible feelings slowly broke apart inside her.

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