I look away. “Eve disobeyed God. She ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and Adam did, too.”
Papa nods. “Indeed. And as God cast them forth from Eden for their disobedience, he said unto Eve, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children, and thy desire shall be unto thy husband, and he shall rule over thee. It is Eve’s punishment you endure, child.”
“But I am not guilty of Eve’s sin,” I protest in a low whisper; yet even as the words leave my mouth, I know that they are untrue. I succumbed to Ariel’s temptation even as Eve succumbed to that of the serpent in the garden. I disobeyed Papa as surely as Eve disobeyed God.
I have been punished for it.
Years later, I am still being punished for it.
“All of humankind bears the cost of Eve’s sin, Miranda,” Papa says dryly. “Women are weak in body and will. I suggest you use this time to contemplate the price of disobedience.”
I say nothing.
Papa glances at the pinkish water in my wash-basin. “If you bathe yourself when your courses are upon you, you must dispose of the leavings thusly. Empty the basin on barren ground facing east and rinse it clean in running water; water from the stream, not water drawn from the well or a fountain where traces of the menstruum may linger and taint the elemental spirits. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Very well.” He sets down his bundle. “Then I shall leave you to attend to the business of womankind, daughter.”
Now I want nothing more than for him to go and leave me alone with my shame and uncleanliness; and yet there is one last fear niggling at me. “Papa?”
He pauses. “Yes?”
“You’re not angry at Caliban for disturbing you, are you?” I ask him. “It’s only that he was afraid for me.”
“Angry?” Papa frowns. “No. Our wild lad’s concern was misplaced, but I do not blame him for it.”
I sigh with relief. “I am glad.”
TWENTY-FOUR
CALIBAN
Oh, Setebos!
I have seen a thing I should not have seen.
I do not think this the very first thing when it happens, no; I do not think it at all. I think only that Miranda is hurt and scared, and I have not seen her so since she woke oh, so many years ago after Master did punish her and she almost did die. Only then I did know how to help, how to help Miranda walk and grow strong and find the words she has lost, how to help Miranda be Miranda again, and she did understand and let me.
Today is different.
Today there is blood and Miranda is scared and angry and shouts, Miranda runs and hides from me.
Today Miranda is not Miranda.
And so I go, I go to fetch Master, and at first he is angry, but I tell him that Miranda is bleeding and Master laughs, ha-ha, like I have told him a good thing, his face all bright and happy. “Oh ho!” he says. “Miranda is not hurt.”
I think mayhap Master does not understand. “But she is bleeding.”
“Yes, yes.” Master pats my shoulder. “It is all very natural and part of God’s plan. Do not be alarmed. Go about your business, lad. I will go to her and explain.”
But I do not go. My shoulders go tight with anger. I do not understand how Miranda can be bleeding without being hurt. “Explain what?”
Master’s face changes. “It is no concern of yours,” he says in his cold, hard voice. “Now or ever. Believe me when I say that she is unharmed and leave her be. You’re not to lay a finger on her.”
I do not show him my teeth, but my lip curls even though I do not mean it to. “I would never hurt her!”
“No, of course not. I’ve made certain of it.” Master touches one of the amulets that hang from his neck, acting as if it was me that almost killed you, Miranda, and not him. “I’m bidding you not to touch her.”
Why?
I open my mouth to say the word, but then I see in my memory the thing I should not have seen, and it is as though I am seeing it for the first time.
Miranda.
Miranda naked.
Oh, oh, oh!
I lower my head so that Master cannot see what I am seeing behind my eyes. I did not tell him I saw Miranda in her chamber, only in the kitchen.
“Good lad.” Master’s voice is kind again. “Now begone with you and do not fret. I promise you, Miranda is healthy and well.”
I go.
I leave the palace and run far and fast and hard to the high crag where Setebos awaits me, I run with my legs going pumpity-pump and my heart going thumpity-thump until my blood pounds in my ears like waves breaking on the shore. I climb the sharp rocks with hands and feet, not caring that the rocks cut me. I am trying to run away from the memory of what I have seen, but I cannot run from a thing I carry inside me. Atop the crag, I throw myself to the ground beneath Setebos’s shadow.
Miranda.
I’m bidding you not to touch her.
Oh, but Miranda’s skin where the sun has not kissed it is soft and white, as white as milk.
And I have seen it.
I have seen the curve of her little breasts hanging above the wash-basin with their tender pink tips. I have seen her slender, pale thighs and the little thicket of dark golden hair where they join together.
Oh, Setebos!