“My feet … They couldn’t rape her … could they? She looked up to see the Lieutenant standing before her, the orange lantern glow lighting the silhouette of his head. “Did you truly believe you would emerge from this debacle unscathed?” Lieutenant Sampson stepped into the space before her. She was still trying to deny the inevitable, but already her breathing was coming in short, pained gasps as she tried to anticipate when the next blow was going to fall. It was to the block itself, where the slaves of White Orchard were taken to be disciplined … where normality consisted of the sound of cries that echoed like a crazed, macabre chorus. This was totally alien to her. To her left stood Mary, loyal maid-servant and friend, solemn and stricken at her Mistress’s shameful exposure. It was a room he knew well having spent many happy hours in here, drinking brandy and smoking his favourite cigars with poor old John. “Mister Shepherd, Mercy is a good slave.
