WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Malfoid

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◈ Fragments of Thorns and a Cradle ◈

Chapter 2

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Content Warning: child abuse; domestic abuse; physical violence; sexual exploitation and slavery.

Nobles from neighboring countries such as Solerium and Treden thought female slaves who entwined their legs with their masters were simply slaves who had slept with their owners. They considered them ridiculous, wicked women.

It was an age of clear, high, rigid social divisions. They raged that slave women, so ignorant of their station, could lead lives unfit for them.

Those were the words of people who knew nothing. Kailak's female slaves knew their station better than anyone, and bore its unbearable weight precisely because they understood it.

No one chose to be born noble, and no one chose to be born a slave. Women born as slaves, living as their husbands' household slaves, had not wished for such marriages.

Even without wealth, they would have wanted warmth and happiness. Even without abundance, they would have wanted that to be enough. After a weary day, they would have wanted to return home to a husband they could lean on, meet eye to eye, and live beside. Husband and wife were meant to be precious family, each the other's support.

They would have wanted their sons and daughters not to wear different clothes, eat different food, and live different lives merely because they were born from their wombs. They would have wanted their children not to be compared at every word and step, not to be accused of forgetting their place.

Would Father permit them to use his surname? Would Father consider their futures even a little? No parent wished for a child to live with such worries.

Marie was the same. Like Agnes, she had not wished to become Endymion's lowly wife. She had not wished to bear Endymion's lowly sons. So...

"When will the swelling go down?"

Marie watched the deep crease between her husband's brows. At dawn, when she said she was sore between her legs, he had rung for a servant and summoned her physician. The unfamiliar middle-aged woman had replaced old Lanton, the physician Endymion had killed.

"Within a week."

The woman, who had examined the place Endymion had sucked and bitten relentlessly, gathered disinfectant and gauze.

Before the physician could even speak, Endymion had demanded to know when Marie would recover. He was as he always was. He hurt her with his own hands, yet when she became sick enough to lie in bed, he turned to stone and would not leave her side.

"Here is an ointment. Apply it often."

Marie turned to look at the physician. Her bare, unpainted face was expressionless. Endymion took the ointment. His silent lips asked, Shall I put it on now?

Marie shook her head.

The physician rose and left the bedroom. When Marie tried to get up, Endymion's hand pressed her back down. Without asking her to spread her legs again, he seized them and pulled them apart.

"Ah!"

"Stay still."

"My lord!"

Holding her hips, Endymion examined her swollen flesh. Marie called to him as she gasped. He did not answer. His long fingers carefully applied the sticky ointment.

Marie pressed her lips together and looked up at him. His touch was cautious, like penance. As if that would change anything.

She turned away. She was worried about the babies, who had not seen their mother for more than half a day.

"Where are the children?"

"With the nursemaid, I suppose."

"I need to see them."

When he had finished, Marie closed her legs and looked at Endymion. He silently stroked her lower stomach, then nodded.

"I'll bring them."

❖ ❖ ❖

Claude stood before his father's wife with his hands neatly folded. He neither slumped his shoulders nor bent at the waist, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He could not dare look up at his father's wife, so his pale face could only blink.

"Yaaawn."

Beside him, Ewin yawned and rubbed his eyes. Startled, Claude lightly nudged his younger brother's waist. Ewin turned to look up at him. When Claude shook his head firmly, Ewin pursed his lips in confusion.

"Why aren't you eating?"

A thin voice spoke. It was unreadable, almost gentle. Claude turned his head to look at Mother.

Mother.

Yes. He had been told to call her Mother. All illegitimate children belonged to their father's lawful wife, so his father's wife was Claude's mother as well.

"Th-thank you."

Beautiful candied fruit and desserts had been placed before them as soon as they arrived, and he had thanked her. Yet that was all Claude could manage before the woman. His stomach churned with tension. He had never been this tense before his father, but breathing became difficult, and opening his mouth was hard.

Before Claude could take up his fork, Ewin grabbed his and scooped a large mouthful of cream into his mouth. Claude hesitated, watching the woman's reaction.

Her long eyes were cold. They were not the eyes with which one looked at a three-year-old child. They looked instead at the product of something disgusting and filthy.

Claude knew those eyes well, yet they were mostly unfamiliar. No one had dared look at him that way before his father.

"Does the marquess always sleep with his household slave?"

Claude had finally picked up and eaten a slice of melon when the sharp question came. He stopped chewing and looked at the woman. Her black, wavy hair was piled high, and her face was neat and elegant.

When the woman had first come, Claude's nursemaid had stroked his hair for a long time and whispered, "The good days are over."

Claude had not known what that meant, so he had simply sat there while she stroked him.

"You mustn't call Mama Mother anymore. You must call the marchioness Mother. Naturally, you cannot go near the lord's bedroom without permission. And if the lord has a son with the new marchioness, you must show him every respect."

"..."

"A concubine cannot challenge the authority of the lawful wife. She is her master's slave, and therefore the lawful wife's slave as well. It is the same for illegitimate children. You cannot challenge a legitimate heir's authority."

The nursemaid's face had been sad as she recited those long words quickly without pausing.

"Do you understand?"

Claude had not answered.

"It is all right if you don't. You cannot understand yet."

Then the nursemaid shed tears that even Mama did not show.

"Poor young master. I pray the marchioness will pity you."

She had hugged Claude tightly, her cheeks wet with tears. Like Ewin now, Claude had blinked from within her arms, not understanding.

"Answer me."

"..."

"You aren't going to disregard me like your mother, are you?"

She called his mother a household slave, then two remarks later called her your mother. Claude understood the space between those names. He was only five, but he knew what lay beneath the woman's heart.

The nursemaid prayed the marchioness would pity him, but she herself knew what sort of woman the future marchioness was.

"What oil does your mother put in her hair?"

The woman asked again. Ewin, who had been chewing cream without thought, saw his brother's frozen face and became frightened. Claude's gaze drifted across the dishes before reaching the woman.

"What powder does she use? Where is it from?"

Her tone was hurried and irritable. They were not questions to ask a child. Claude knew nothing and shook his head.

The woman briefly bit her lip. Then she smoothed her stiff expression and spoke gently.

"Find out before you come next time."

"..."

"You can help this Mother, can't you?"

The woman smiled at Claude when he did not answer. Claude kept his lips shut and said nothing.

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