"He truly cares about you, my lady. You could wrap him around your finger if you tried, and he would worship at your feet."

Raen's words echoed in Goldwyn's mind as she followed the chamberlain through the corridors of the enormous manor house. The thought of Esarhaddon groveling before her filled her with as much disgust as the thought of him ravishing her. While she had been driven to use her feminine wiles upon him in Osgiliath, that had been a stalling tactic to keep his ardor from interfering with her plan to escape. She had no desire to play the part of the seductress to manipulate this despicable man into treating her like some heathen queen.

But yet…

It could be in her best interest to adopt such a role. After all, if Esarhaddon trusted her, he would be less likely to suspect that she still harbored the hope of escape, and that she was actively scheming towards that goal. If he believed that she had made peace with being his concubine, then he might be willing to allow her more freedom. She understood that there were no restrictions placed upon Shumeeren and Anúrnissa when they desired to travel, and the ability to go where she pleased would be a great boon when it came time at last to set her plan to escape in motion.

Of course, playing such a long and involved game of deception would require making sacrifices, namely her honor. Not only would she be betraying her people by sleeping with the enemy, but she would also be betraying her husband if he yet lived. Would Fasthelm forgive her for her infidelity? Would he understand that she had few choices, and each one of them unpleasant?

When she married Fasthelm, Goldwyn thought that they would be together until they were both old and gray. The prospect that she might be with another man had never even occurred to her. Even if misfortune had indeed made her a widow, she would never choose a villain like Esarhaddon to be her husband. She wondered why the man was so obsessed with her. She highly doubted that he loved her, that an avaricious scoundrel like him was even capable of harboring such a pure emotion. She suspected that he was one of those men whose minds deceived them into thinking they loved a woman when in reality they only loved the character whom they imagined her to be in their deluded fantasies. Before she married her husband, she had several suitors who sought her hand. She soon realized, however, that these earnest young fellows were not actually in love with Goldwyn of Grenefeld, but rather the woman whom they presumed her to be. In their heads, they had forged a mold of the perfect wife, and sought to force her into a mold that did not fit. Fasthelm was the only one who truly loved her for who she was, as opposed to some figment of his imagination.

But what if she humored this foolish Haradric merchant, and became the woman that he wanted her to be so that she might lure him into a false sense of complacency? The prospect galled her, and ate away at both her conscience and pride like acid. Everything about this scheme felt wrong. Though she was loath to admit it, there was a possibility – small though it might be – that Esarhaddon actually did love her. While she hated the man, she felt it would be far more honorable to run his heart through with a sword than it would be to break it. Then she chided herself for harboring such pity for an enemy. The slave trader was a reprehensible man, and deserved every hurt which he received.

At last Goldwyn arrived at her destination. The chamberlain departed, leaving her to face her fate alone. With a sigh and a heavy heart, she pushed open the door to Esarhaddon's quarters, only to find the sitting room empty. She knew not whether to feel confused or relieved, but she knew that her enemy was surely present, lurking about somewhere. Her gaze fell upon an open door which was flanked by two large urns on either side of the entryway. The vases were almost waist high to a man and were adorned with an elegant gold and blue floral design. A large stock of white lilies, rimmed by other exotic plants of brilliant hue, rose almost to the height of the ceiling.

Goldwyn peered through the doorway, and realized she was gazing at Esarhaddon's bedchamber. A metal framed, glass paneled lantern hung suspended from the ceiling, fastened by a chain attached to a hook on the wall. Other lamps rested on tables and in niches along the wall, softly illuminating the lavish chamber, which was painted with shades of gold and blue. A large, curtained bed rested upon a raised platform; three stairs led up to the resting place of the wealthy merchant. A vase of red roses rested on a tasseled cloth of gold and yellow spread over a low table near the bed. Running the length of the opposite wall was a long, low couch, where Esarhaddon sat, waiting for the arrival of his reluctant concubine. Before the couch was a broad rug which was intricately threaded with geometric patterns, and in the center of the room was the spotted pelt of some exotic beast which Goldwyn had never seen before. Along another wall was a finely wrought writing table and a set of bookcases. The heady aromas of perfume and incense hung over the chamber, and Goldwyn's nostrils twitched as they were assailed by the unpleasantly sweet odor.

"Greetings, my lady. I have been looking forward to your pleasant companionship all day." The lamplight flickered over Esarhaddon's face as he rose from the couch to welcome her. "I regret that I was unable to dine with you this evening, but important matters in the city called me away. Have a seat and a drink of wine." He gestured towards the couch and the table in front of it, upon which rested two goblets and an ornate porcelain ewer. "How fared your day?"

Goldwyn cautiously took a seat upon the cushions, and Esarhaddon sat down beside her at a respectful distance. "My day fared well. Shireen has been teaching me about the various classes which make up Nurnian society."

"Despite her young age, Shireen is very knowledgeable about the subjects she teaches," Esarhaddon remarked, a note of pride in his voice. "She is a recent graduate of the University of Turkûrzgoi, where she excelled in many subjects. What have you learned so far from your lessons?"

"The Great Eye is the supreme ruler of Mordor and Nurn; beneath Him are the Lord of the Nazgûl and his Lieutenant; and then the governors of the four provinces." Trying to keep her tone neutral, Goldwyn dutifully recalled the knowledge that Shireen had imparted during the lesson. "Next are the high-ranking government and military officials and the priests and priestesses of the Dark Religion. Beneath them are the nobles who manage large estates, and then soldiers, scribes, artisans, merchants, and tradespeople. The lowest free class is composed of commoners and peasants. Slaves have a hierarchy of their own, with many high-ranking slaves wielding more power than those who are considered free."

"Very good." Esarhaddon nodded with approval. "Any questions you may have about the complexities of this land, Shireen will surely be able to answer. Or you could ask me." A grin spread over his face, and he gave her a playful wink.

"I understand that you are quite favored by the Tower, and enjoy privileges that other merchants do not." Goldwyn tried to keep animosity and bitterness out of her voice. Though she hated to engage her enemy in conversation, she knew there was merit in doing so. Perhaps she could gain valuable information from him, and if she did decide to play games with his heart, she needed to act as though she were actually interested in him.

"Indeed I am." Esarhaddon studied her face for a moment, as though trying to divine her intentions. "I know that you do not approve of my ties to Mordor. An understandable sentiment, given that our two lands are currently at war. However, I do not consider you my enemy, and I hope that one day you no longer count me as a foe."

"A heart does not change overnight, and forgiveness takes time," Goldwyn stated warily.

"This is true," he conceded. "Is there something you wished to ask me concerning my position in the hierarchy of Mordor?"

"I understand that the House of Huzziya oversees the distribution of slaves throughout this region of Nurn," Goldwyn began, choosing her words with caution. "Yet you journeyed hundreds of miles to Gondor to purchase captives from the army. Do your mercantile ventures often take you so far afield?" She tried to sound as though she were merely making idle conversation and only had a casual interest in whatever answer he might give her.

"The House of Huzziya was contracted to transport the first of the captives taken from Gondor and Rohan," Esarhaddon explained. "Before the war, the primary duty of the merchandising house was to receive slaves from the caravans which are sent by Mordor's allies, and then see to their sale and distribution in the Western Province and beyond. This spring was the first time that I, or any of the agents of the House of Huzziya, have ventured so far North."

"How long will you be permitted to remain in Nurn ere your duties call you elsewhere?"

"Agents of the House of Huzziya will continue to oversee the transportation of captives from the North. However, I plan to remain here at my villa and delegate the more challenging tasks to others. Leave the adventuring to younger men! I have had my fill of daring exploits for a very long time." His deep voice rumbled out a chuckle of amusement, but the haunted look which flickered in his eyes belied his outward show of humor.

"I know you must be happy to return to your home after being away for so long," Goldwyn stated blandly. She felt her heart sink. If Esarhaddon was frequently away, his absence might make it easier for her to escape. However, it sounded as though he planned to stay in Nurn for the foreseeable future.

Esarhaddon drank deeply from his goblet and then set the vessel back upon the table. "Oft I worried if I would ever return. So many misfortunes befell the caravan that I began to wonder if the whole venture was cursed."

"Indeed, calamity seemed to follow the caravan like iron drawn to a lodestone." Goldwyn shuddered as she recalled the numerous perils of the journey. "There were many times I feared that the savage uruks would wrench away the door to the healer's wain and murder everyone inside."

"The damn bastards tried to kill me twice, first in combat and then through treachery." That faraway look returned to Esarhaddon's eyes, but he drove it away with pure willpower and spite. "They are dead now, and I am still alive."

"If it were not for you and your men, we would all be dead." Goldwyn had to admit that Esarhaddon's efforts to protect his charges from danger had been quite valiant, though she refused to see him as some sort of heroic champion. She highly doubted that he would have come to the defense of the Rohirric women and children if their loss had not meant harsh penalties from Mordor and loss of wealth.

"I always protect those who are under my care," he told her, his dark, smoldering eyes boring into hers.

Goldwyn shrank away from that hungering gaze, dread curling around her stomach. She was not his to protect, but she could not tell him that, especially if she wanted to convince him that she was softening towards him.

"You certainly proved your bravery against the uruks." She allowed the slightest hint of softness to infuse her voice. "Are you a seasoned warrior, having fought in many battles?"

Esarhaddon gave a grim bark of amusement. "Nay, I am a merchant, not a soldier. However, it is the custom for the sons of prominent merchants to receive training in combat. The road is oft fraught with peril, especially for the wealthy traveler. The first time that my blade ever tasted blood was this summer. Despite my orders not to harm any of the escaped slaves, one of the uruks reverted to the barbarism of their ill-begotten kind and began torturing a girl. I came to her defense and slew the fiend before he could harm her further."

Goldwyn was stricken by a pang of guilt. One of the Rohirric women who had bravely attempted to escape the chains of slavery had almost met a horrific fate at the hands of a rogue uruk. If Esarhaddon had arrived too late, then her death would have been on Goldwyn's hands, as she had encouraged the captives to escape. She tried to push these dark thoughts away.

"I am very grateful that you were able to rescue the girl in time," Goldwyn stated with sincerity.

"I regret that I was unable to save the one who was sacrificed by the uruks." A pained look came over his face. "Though I have never fought in war, that terrible night was as close to a skirmish as I have ever seen. I had hoped that executing those responsible for the uprising would put a stop to these murderous rampages, but it only drove the surviving uruks to commit further acts of violence."

"The assassination attempt." When Esarhaddon nodded, Goldwyn continued speaking. "Well I remember those days, when your life hung in the balance and the entire caravan waited to see if you would live or die."

Esarhaddon gazed down into his wine goblet, tilting it slightly and watching the dark liquid swirl about in the vessel. "When I first embarked upon the journey to Nurn with the caravan of Rohirric slaves, I never imagined that I would have to put my combat training to use, or that I would have so many brushes with the Black Horseman. But I survived – scarred but alive." His gaze flicked up to hers, and he lifted his goblet slightly before drinking. "Enough about such somber matters! I am sure you must be curious about my gift for this evening." He looked at her expectantly, a smug expression upon his face.

"I am sure that I will find out what it is soon enough," Goldwyn remarked, not wishing to encourage him with a show of curiosity.

"I am giving you your freedom."

Goldwyn nearly choked upon the sip of wine she had just taken. Coughing, she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Is this some sort of jest?"

That smug smile grew even wider. "Nay, it is not. I am giving you what you most desire. In the next few days, I shall take you to Turkûrzgoi, where we will discuss the terms of your freedom before the judge. After that, I will pay a recording fee so that the scribes will document your manumission and provide you with the appropriate papers."

Goldwyn crossed her arms over her chest and gave Esarhaddon a cold, hard stare, her brows lifted in skepticism. "So you are giving me leave to return to my homeland so that I might search for my husband and children?"

"While I am freeing you from slavery, there are conditions to your freedom." The tone of Esarhaddon's voice was patient, as though he expected that a quarrel would soon break out between them. "You cannot leave Mordor, and you must remain at the villa as my concubine."

"If I am not allowed to leave, then I am not truly free, am I?" Goldwyn challenged. How dare Esarhaddon tempt her with what she desired most, only to burden it with endless rules and stipulations? Of course, what could she expect from a man of the enemy?

"One does not simply leave Mordor," Esarhaddon stated, an inexorable finality in his words. "Everyone, both slave and free, must receive permission from the authorities in order to travel beyond the bounds of this land, and only those who have contracts with the military are allowed to go into enemy territory. Even if I wanted to help you flee to your homeland, it is a crime punishable by death to assist the escape of anyone into enemy territory. The law of Mordor is severe, with the entire family of the offender being executed to make an example to others who might consider committing the same transgression. Would you have my wives and children murdered, just so you could go free? If the crime is deemed severe enough, the entire household, from the highest-ranking chamberlain to the lowliest farmhand, is put to death in the most horrific and brutal of ways. Would you have all of the servants of my house, the laborers in my fields, and the students at the School of Industry executed, just so you could chase your idle fantasies of freedom and return to the ashes of your homeland?"

Her face blanched with horror, Goldwyn drew a shaky hand up to her mouth. "They… they would execute your entire family, just for helping one person escape?"

Esarhaddon nodded gravely. "Yes, Goldwyn. My family would be… removed, as the saying goes."

Thoroughly shaken by all she had learned concerning the laws of Mordor, Goldwyn permitted Esarhaddon to place a calming hand upon her shoulder. "I knew that the Lord of Mordor was evil, but I did not know just how evil He could be! He even brings suffering upon His own followers!" Oh, how she longed to escape over the encircling mountains and flee as far as she could from the clutches of Mordor! Even if it meant dying, she had to try!

"During my recent trip to Turkûrzgoi, I discovered that this grim fate had happened to a lord whose villa lay east of here, along the coast," Esarhaddon informed her, seeming to take a certain relish in the morbid tale. "It was not thought at Lugbûrz that the lord was doing his job in the proper fashion, and, therefore, it was deemed best that he be removed and another more worthy be found to take his place. It was unfortunate for his family that he was removed, for in being removed, it was deemed only proper that he should not die alone. His wife, his sons, his daughters, and all the members of his household were also removed... eternally. It was a shame, really. I was acquainted with the man, and he was an entertaining host who threw lavish banquets. However, one does not defy the might of Mordor. Now a general with the army has taken up residence in his halls and is the new master of the estate."

"What a horrible, barbaric place this land is," Goldwyn cried out, shuddering with dread.

"The Lord of Mordor craves order and obedience above all things, and His methods of achieving His goals can be rather… harsh." There was a wry twist to Esarhaddon's mouth, as though he knew full well that this was a vast understatement, but did not wish to continue frightening his concubine. "Have no worries, my lady. I am held in high esteem by the Tower and have no intentions of breaking the laws of Mordor, so no harm will come to my family. You are safe here." Moving closer to her on the couch, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

As an expectant quietude fell upon their conversation, Goldwyn looked into Esarhaddon's eyes, searching for any hint of deception or manipulation. His touch was warm, his grip firm yet yielding, and his gaze was earnest. She saw no guile there. This man would protect and provide for her, and perhaps even love her in his own clumsy fashion — though his gold would always come first. As a captive bride from an enemy land, she supposed that she could account herself fortunate, for she could have found herself at the mercy of a far worse man, both in terms of temperament and physical appearance. The Haradric merchant lord was quite attractive, with a devastatingly handsome tawny face that was bedecked by a neat, well-trimmed beard; thick, wavy black hair that curled about his collar; dark, sensual eyes that always held a spark of mischief; and a roguish arrogance that tempted her to make bad decisions which she would later regret. If she were not such a strong woman, she might have fallen for the lecherous scoundrel months ago, but she had been determined to hate him because of his deep ties to Mordor.

Now, though, her hatred, the only thing that had kept her from falling into despair these long and terrible months, had served its usefulness. If she continued to rage against her captor, she would suffer. While Esarhaddon professed to love her, she knew that this love was conditional. Defiance would bring punishments and torment, but obedience and affection would be rewarded. Through gentle subterfuge, she could use the reciprocal nature of this arrangement to her advantage and begin to shift the balance of power in her favor.

"It has been so long since I have felt safe," Goldwyn murmured, lowering her head in an attempt to seem vulnerable and delicate.

He reached out and cupped his hand under her chin, gently lifting her face to his. "Put your fears aside, for I shall protect you from the gravest danger to the most trivial inconvenience."

Her heart was thundering in her chest, but she forced her body to relax as she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his hand. "Thank you. That is indeed a comfort."

Leaning back slightly, Esarhaddon crossed his arms over his chest. "Could it be that my concubine is at last warming to me?" Amusement twinkled in his eyes.

"Perhaps," Goldwyn remarked coyly. "I suppose that I could do worse."

Esarhaddon glared at her with mock offense. "The only way you could do better than me – one of the most powerful merchants in all of Nurn – would be if you were to win the favor of a Mordorian general or a high-ranking government official."

With a little snort, Goldwyn shook her head in disbelief. "You certainly have a high opinion of yourself."

"Is it so wrong to be a man confident in his own achievements?" Gesturing broadly at their lavish surroundings, Esarhaddon leaned against the back of the couch. "I can afford to give you everything your heart desires. Gold, silver, precious gems, gowns, jewelry, furniture, tapestries and carpets, exotic foods, musicians and dancers to amuse you, pets to be your companions – all you have to do is name it, and it is yours."

"You have proved that you are willing to go to great lengths to impress me," Goldwyn conceded. "Including the most magnanimous gesture of all – giving me my freedom." A gift that was not actually a gift, she thought resentfully. A meaningless gesture, a gift in name only. Yet she knew he would expect her to fawn over her so-called freedom.

"And how do you plan to repay me for the numerous kindnesses that I have bestowed upon you?" He gave her a roguish wink which indicated that he had a very specific idea in mind on how she could repay him.

A stillness came over Goldwyn as she felt her resolve harden. She knew what she had to do. The time had come for her to make her move – lest she lose the game. "Oh, I can think of ways," she murmured with an enticing lift of her brow. Her own voice sounded strange in her ears, as though someone else were speaking the words.

"What do you have in mind?" Esarhaddon's eyes glittered with lust.

Leaning forward with a provocative arch of her spine, she reached out and dragged a finger slowly over his lips.

"That is for you to find out."

Goldwyn lay motionless upon the bed, paralyzed with shame and regret. Lying upon her back, she stared vacantly at the ceiling, where her reflection stared back from the mirrored panel which had been mounted above the bed. "The damned lecher is so vain and in love with himself that he takes pleasure from watching himself in the act of rutting," she thought with disgust.

Beside her Esarhaddon slept, snoring loudly, his lust sated at last. While doing the loathsome deed, she had often closed her eyes and tried to imagine her unwanted lover as her late husband. Unfortunately, the accursed fiend kept mumbling words in his own language during the heat of passion, and this broke the illusion she tried to force upon her mind.

Though Goldwyn was exhausted in both body and spirit, she had difficulty finding sleep. She had played the game, but she wondered who had truly won this round. Had she gained the upper hand, or had she waved the white flag of surrender to her opponent? Perhaps she was trying to delude herself that she was still fighting when she had embraced defeat. However, if she had done naught to change the trajectory of her fate, she would have continued to suffer as a victim of her circumstances, doomed to be raped repeatedly and then forced to give birth to an enemy's children like a brood mare. At least the tincture of Queen Ancalimë's Lace would prevent the latter from happening. It would be difficult to escape with a baby in tow.

Escape… How she longed to flee from this wretched place, from this unrelenting man who demanded her affections! But if her endeavors were to be successful, she had to have patience. She had to endure, and persevere, and bide her time until an opportunity to escape presented itself. One day she would see the Mark again. She just knew it.