Chapter Four
“Do not let them hear you, for god’s sakes!” Arnold Middlemass warned young Wilson in a strained and fearful whisper.
It had been over four weeks – four painful, humiliating, and negatively illuminating weeks – since their taking, and life for both men, young as well as old, had become the stuff of dreams.
Bad dreams.
Both, at least, had been spared some clothing now, but it was not their own. Though even the shapeless tunic reaching almost to the ground was preferable to being kept naked and vulnerable to the ridicule of both the wives of the man who had captured them and those that served him and his men. Strangely, the men who comprised his fighting force pretty much ignored them, as if to acknowledge their presence was to somehow be tainted by an inferior strain encomp
