The Fancy Read Free

from the slave keeper.
    Stepping down into the stew of filth, he boldly
    moved forward, bracing himself for what he might
    find, his shoes sticking to the surface of the floor,
    stepping into unmentionable goo, thick sludge and
    filth.
    "This is horrendous - I seriously doubt we shal
    find a soul alive beyond the light, there can be no
    way -...." he was silenced by what he saw. First they
    noted a shaking and then, shiny, oily like, dark skin,
    much of it – belonging to the poor soul tucked away,
    as if hiding, with little clothing to cover or protect her
    from the cold, let alone the filth in which she
    squatted. Then there was movement, a rat - it's front
    feet touching her hip to crawl up when suddenly, to
    Quinton’s astonishment - quick as a blink of an eye,
    her hand was there, grabbing the creature by its tail,
    causing it to squeak in fear as she reared back and -
    pitched it from her with such a force so it hit the wal
    with a sickening thud - it too leaving it's mark where
    they'd only just looked and commented upon the
    others.
    The rat lay twitching, dying. “Bloody hel !” Henry
    gasped. Eyes wide, Quinton glanced back at her,
    she never looked his way, tucking her face back
    down between her knees, where she hugged her
    body in a bal to resume her shaking from the cold.
    "By al that's holy! The wench is kil in' the rats!"
    The slave keeper exclaimed in shock, crossing
    himself as if she had to be possessed to not fear
    them – to instead kil them.
    Ignoring both men and acting without thought,
    Quinton sat the lantern forward on the floor to keep
    his eyes on her, he unsnapped his cape coat at his
    neck, removing it with a hasty swish from around his
    shoulders and moved in close to the shivering
    wench, bending low as he went, dropping the heavy
    cape around her; she smel ed horrible, but who
    wouldn't under such conditions.
    "What are you doing?" Henry asked.
    "What do you think?! She should not be in such
    abysmal confinement!" Quinton returned, "You offer
    me a gift riddled with filth, soaked in shite - freezing
    to death! Instead of help - you give me more to see
    to!”
    “Let this be the last gift you offer in exchange
    for a deed in value of your mother!"
    "The value of the fancy is sound! I did not give
    such orders - to keep her in such a state!" Henry
    argued his case, turning to the slave keeper, "Who
    placed her here?!" he demanded.
    "I did sa', it was hide her, or see her raped by
    the crew, fil ed with ale they were, wishin' a bit of
    skirt." The man babbled nervously, "Three or more
    were seekin' the wench for - wel - sa'... you know."
    He gulped.
    "Let me by!" Quinton snarled, holding his gift
    high against his body. He had wrapped her as
    securely as he could in his cape. She now lay curled
    within, cradled against his chest, shaking, her teeth
    chattering, eyes closed with no fight against him -
    her fate now in his hands. Both men moved aside as
    he careful y took to the steps, up and onward
    towards the exit, the other two men fol owing behind.
    "How can you have slaves here?" Quinton asked,
    holding her close, he could only see the top of her
    braided head of hair, with her face tucked and
    hidden while shivering, "I do not condone such
    inhumane practices."
    Not about to answer that charge, the trader
    stated instead, "Your actions toward the wench fal s
    to you. Set her free for al I care - she is no longer a
    concern of mine - I would give her under better
    conditions - how we found her was not my doing.
    Place her feet upon the cobbled way with a push and
    be done with her, I have washed my hands." Henry
    was a bit put off, embarrassed by the way she was
    found, and being reviled by the doctor, set his face
    aflame, he turned to the man behind him - "See to
    that room! I want al trace of rats removed!
    Immediately! It wil be clean enough for repast!" He
    barked.
    It was clear to Quinton the slave trader had, nor,
    shown any fear for a deed that should not be
    happening where he'd