Black Grey White

The rain lashed the soft earth, turning it into thick, clinging mud. The cold gnawed at the bones like a predator, sinking its teeth deep into anyone foolish enough to be exposed. The trees shone with their vivid green, but who could find comfort in such weather besides the trees themselves? The lord’s carriage struggled forward, dragged by a poor, starving horse whose flanks were raw from the coachman’s relentless strikes. Back toward his dwelling they crept, the lord growing more desperate with every agonizing step, eager to return and attend to his many pressing matters. Beside him sat his elder brother, grim-faced and pale—worn by the burdens of life and the creeping hand of age. He furrowed his brow, scratched his head with worry, and spoke with sharp insistence. “The new woman you brought… she must conceive, at any cost. It is impossible that you have had five wives and not a single living child among them.” “You know well,” the lord replied, his voice edged with anger, “we killed one because she betrayed me, the second died in childbirth along with her child, the third perished during pregnancy, the fourth fell ill and succumbed, and the fifth I banished for bearing a girl instead of a boy.” “You were a fool to send her away,” the elder snapped. “Had you waited for the next birth, you would already have held a son in your hands. But what can one expect from you? You cannot even care for a dog. The clock ticks, and we are not growing younger—hurry!". “I’ve already told you, I am trying—endlessly—and she herself does everything she can to conceive and bear a child. Stop pressuring me and her, and in the end… we will have a child,” the lord snapped, his voice sharp with anger. “I’m beginning to think you are doing something to them to prevent them from bearing. Five wives came before her—five young, healthy, fertile women. And the one before her? What was the problem? Why did you banish a fertile woman? She already gave birth to a daughter… your daughter…” “Because I do not love her!” the lord cut in, shouting over his brother. “What? What do you mean, you don’t love her? Since when do marriages happen for love?” the elder bellowed, fury twisting his features. “Foolish little kid, if I found out you harmed any of these women I arranged for you, just because of love, I will strip you of all the wealth you’ve received from me. Love is nonsense! There is no such thing!”. He slammed his hand against the carriage door with such force it nearly burst from its hinges. “Leave that door be, it'll break,” the lord spat back. “I will leave the door, the horse, your household, and all your possessions alone only when you produce an heir. Until then, there is nothing to discuss. Your head is stuck on matters of love, as if these women exist merely to be concubines,” the elder hissed, fire seeming to curl from his words. “Gentlemen, we are approaching,” the coachman’s voice cut through the cold air like a whip. The two fell silent, only to resume their argument the moment the opportunity arose on the road ahead—as they invariably did. “Do you want the inheritance to slip from our hands and all the property to return to our uncle? Go to your wife and give her a son!” the brother screamed. “You will not tell me what to do with my wife, or when to do it. Do you hear me?” the lord shouted back. The brother’s palm crashed loudly against the lord’s face, “Look at you, you irritating little mouse,” he snarled. “The only reason you are the lord and not me is because my hand is severed. But everything you have belongs to me regardless—whether you like it or not. Even your wife belongs to me. Do you understand? So you will go to your wife now, and you will do what must be done so there will be a child. Do you hear me?”. The lord threw his brother down and pinned him against the cold floor. “Say one more word about her and I will kill you. Do you hear me?” The lord’s wife hurried toward them. “What are you doing? Both of you, get up,” she said, pulling the lord away with force and helping the brother rise to his feet. “What is this? What happened?” “Great,” the brother panted as he struggled to stand. “Now that you are together, do what must be done. And you—four months have passed since you came here. The time has come for you to repay your debt and bring an heir that is demanded.” He had barely finished speaking when a knock suddenly echoed against the door. “Not you again. Leave this place. I have already told you—we are not selling the slave you seek, not yet. Her value is far too great to me for now, and that is precisely why she has survived here for so long,” he hissed irritably as he saw the three men in their suits, who knew exactly why they had come. “If you will not hand her over, you will bear the consequences—and we are not merciful people. You could receive a considerable payment if you release her. And if you refuse? The consequences of your actions will arrive swiftly,” the woman standing between them threatened. “Well… a woman opening her mouth in matters of slaves,” he sneered. “Do everyone a favor—return to your home, where you belong, and never step outside it again. Do you understand?” “Where is the girl?” the man in the black suit growled. “Stop playing games and release her already. They have been coming here for months, demanding her,” the lord snapped in irritation. “And I still do not understand how the servants keep letting them in each time. Surely by your foolish order—am I right?” the brother replied in despair. “And what does she do for you that makes her so necessary, that you refuse to release her to us?” the man in the gray suit asked, baffled. “You do not understand—I use her. No one understands me the way she does! No one understands me at all!” he screamed, hurling a porcelain jar onto the floor where it shattered. “They bought the black hair from her head for a good price by any measure. I see no reason not to sell her to them and receive ten times the price. There is no slave who cannot be replaced—especially for sums like those,” the lord blurted. “Which one of you is the head of the family? Whom are we supposed to convince, exactly? For nearly half a year we have been in relentless pursuit of you,” said the man in the white suit, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “I alone decide what will be sold and what will not. There is no point to try to change my mind—you will not have her. I do not care how much her hair is worth in your lands. She remains here, and that is final,” he declared with a scowl. “We understand we will not succeed in convincing you. Very well—have a good afternoon,” the woman said coldly, turning to leave. The men followed behind her in a long, silent procession.