ONE NIGHT OF MERCY
It’s hard for me to describe that night – to describe what Ethalia did, and what she took from me. She had unleashed a pain inside me that was so deep it made the torture of the last several days feel like when a child touches a hot stove by mistake: the pain is hot, but it passes quickly. But this …
When we arrived at the temple, which I reminded myself was as good as a brothel, I was taken up to Ethalia’s private room. Aline had insisted on staying with the horse and they had been given a place behind the temple with enough space for the horse to feed and a bed for the girl to sleep in. Ethalia promised me that we could not be found here and, lacking the will to do anything else, I chose to trust her.
She told me to lie back in her bed. ‘I need a bath,’ I warned.
‘I will bathe you,’ she replied, motioning me to remove my coat. What was left of my clothes were torn and caked in blood, dirt and things fouler-smelling than those. With a small pair of scissors she began cutting my shirt off of me.
‘Stop,’ I said.
She pointed to a neat pile of clothing on a table near the door. ‘Those are for you,’ she said. ‘These rags no longer fit you, and the memories they carry are no sweeter than the smells they emit.’
I started to laugh, but she didn’t join me. Instead she kept cutting away at the fabric of my clothing, carefully moving her scissors along the seams until she’d removed my shirt and trousers, and even my boots fell apart at her ministrations.
She bade me lie back in her bed, naked and filthy, and went into the small room attached to her bedroom. When she returned she was carrying a basin and cloth. She set it down next to me on the bed. From another table she took a jar.
‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I know they used oils and ointments to bring pain, but I promise that these bring only healing.’
She began gently cleaning the wounds and washing the caked-on filth from my chest, my face, my legs and every part of me. It was a slow and painstaking process, and as gentle as she was it still hurt like the devil. The skin underneath the dirt and dried blood was sensitive, and in some places the wounds were infected, and all of these she tended to without comment. The ointment stung at first, but then provided blissful relief. When she was done I felt no pain, and I found the sensation almost unrecognisable.
‘It is not yet time for sleep,’ she said, as my eyes started to close.
I reopened them and looked at her. She had removed most but not all of the layers of thin gauzy fabric from her body and those which remained clung to her and, in the soft light of the moon coming through the window, revealed her body to me.
‘No,’ I said.
‘You are afraid,’ she said, without malice or hurt.
‘I …’ I realised I was afraid – but not of what she might think. What I was afraid of horrified me, and I was too ashamed to say it aloud.
She pushed me fully onto my back and gently straddled my hips. ‘You are afraid of the thing inside you,’ she said, letting the softness of her skin whisper to me. ‘You are afraid of the thing you found inside you that day that they took her from you.’
I tensed, and started to shift her off of me by trying to turn, but she pushed me back down. ‘You think you will harm me, Falcio. You think that if you let go, even for a moment, that the rage will come out of you and you will hurt me with your fists, with your violence.’
‘Ethalia … don’t,’ I said.
‘I do not fear you, Falcio val Mond. I know what is inside you. You have carried it for too long. It saved your life, and the lives of others, when you lacked the strength and the skill to defend yourself, but now you must let it go. You are strong now, you are powerful now, and it isn’t right to carry such a dark vessel in your heart. We must work it from its moorings, Falcio, and send it away.’
She moved her hips, ever so slightly, but the sensation felt like energy passing through every part of my body, removing my resistance, letting loose the chains I hadn’t admitted to myself were even there.
‘Please,’ I said, ‘please stop.’
She leaned forward and took my left arm, then reached behind the headboard. I felt her wrap something around my wrist. I tried to pull away, but I was caught tight. I started to move my other arm, but she had already shackled it.
‘Stop,’ I repeated.
‘I am not afraid, Falcio. I do not believe the violence inside your body is greater than the compassion in your mind, even when you are hurt and angry.’
She arose and went to the foot of the bed, producing another strap, this one attached to the floor. ‘But I cannot make you believe me, for you hate yourself too much to believe in your own truth. So I will bind you, and you can let out whatever rage is inside your heart and know that you won’t hurt me.’
She looked at me as if she was waiting for an answer, but I couldn’t speak. I felt nothing but shame at that moment, and no words would come out.
As if that were answer in itself, she returned to the bed and straddled me once more.
That part of me that always tries to be clever managed to break through. ‘This is likely to be—’
Ethalia put a finger on my lips. Then she began moving her hips again, slowly, gently. I made no movements in return, and we stayed like that for such a long time, I believe I fell asleep for minutes at a time. But somehow I found myself inside her, and still she just moved gently, back and forth. At times I thought I might start saying things, terrible things, but the soft movement of her hips seemed to quieten my voice. Other times I felt I was beginning to cry, but there too I was pulled back by the flow of her hips, and the feeling of her hands on my chest. How long we stayed like this I do not know; I remember only that the first probing of daylight pushed its way through the window before I spoke. My voice was so soft she had to ask me to repeat myself. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just wanted to make sure I heard myself say it.
‘The straps,’ I said. ‘Take off the straps.’
*
That morning was as unlike the days that had preceded it as anything you can imagine. I awoke again and the pain was gone from my wounds. Even more striking, the pain was gone from inside me. I’d like to say it stayed that way for ever, but I knew there would be more pain to come. But not yet, not just yet.
I heard the soft sound of singing and I looked over to see Ethalia standing near the far window, pouring something hot into a cup, then putting food onto a plate. She wore a simple summer dress this morning, blue and white, and looked completely unlike the ethereal mystery who had greeted me the night before. I found this version much more beautiful.
‘It is time to eat,’ she said, putting two plates and the drinks on a dark wooden board and bringing it over to the bed. She balanced it on a small table before sitting down beside me.
I drank from the cup. It turned out to be a mild herbal tea with hints of honey in it.
The food was simple, bread with jam and a wedge of cheese. I was about to say something clever about wanting an entire roast chicken when she shook her head. ‘What they’ve fed you, what they’ve done to you: it will not be well served with heavy foods. You must eat lightly, and carefully, for a little while at least.’
I nodded my agreement, but in truth I felt better than I had in such a long time that I had trouble finding the right words. I rubbed my hand across my jaw and was surprised to find no beard there. Somehow she had shaved my face while I slept.
‘Thank you,’ I said simply.
She smiled back at me. ‘Well done,’ she replied, as if I’d said something wildly ingenious.
We ate the rest of the meal in silence. But after we were done I felt compelled to speak.
‘The girl, where—?’
‘Running up the stairs as we speak, I suspect,’ Ethalia answered.
And right then there was an insistent pounding at the door and a voice calling, ‘Falcio – Falcio! Are you in there? They said I wasn’t to disturb you but I don’t believe them. Falcio! Are you hurt?’
Ethalia rose and unlatched the door. ‘He’s here, child. No need for concern or to break your hand on my door.’
Aline ignored her and raced to the bed. I managed to quickly get the sheets around me, having only just then remembered that I was naked.
‘Falcio! Are you all right?’
‘I’m well,’ I answered. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine. Monster’s fine too.’
‘Monster?’
‘The horse, silly. Are you sure you’re all right? You look dopey to me.’
‘I promise I’m fine.’
‘Good,’ she said more seriously. ‘We need to go soon, Falcio. The ceremony will begin in a couple of hours and we need to get there before the names are called.’