13: A Belly Full Of Mead

CORDELIA

Orthus had left me in my room after our moonlight discussion. He had wanted more, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of being used quite yet. I could try and find a new way to get home on our date. I would feed into his emotions only as much as necessary for now. I would keep sex, as a favor to be returned, off the table until I had run out of other options. Was I cruel to feed into his own tragedy for my personal gain? Maybe. But I would do it if I had to. Orthus could be cruel in his own ways, the revelation of how he had sent his human to my world was proof of that. Even if she had been willing, to sacrifice Nelo’s lover? It was cruel.  I flopped my body onto those familiar silk sheets and ran through what had happened. I thought about Vasileios’s face when we returned. I expected it to be full of rage, but instead, he was just morose and defeated. I couldn’t think on it longer though. I braced my body as the familiar sensation of being whisked into a memory came over me. Static charge up and down my back and with my chest full of dread I was dragged into my subconscious again.

✳✴✳

When I adjusted and saw through my memory body’s eyes I knew I was home. I was in the center of my village, Aylesbury. Gas lights dotted the town square as the sunset into a fiery red horizon. There was music, laughing, and dancing. This version of me was in my best dress, and my father and mother flanked either side. The air was cold, my worn brown cloak doing its best to keep out the bite of early winter. A large bonfire warmed some of the crowd in the distance. This memory seemed too fresh, barely a memory at all. I pulled myself into the farthest corner of this memory’s mind, hiding, not wanting to relieve this.

“Congratulations Oscuro! A great match indeed!” My father bellowed towards his friend, Caleb’s father, Jacob. My father motioned toward Caleb and his betrothed. They headed a line of well-wishers, gladly receiving small gifts in honor of their engagement. My mother, behind our backs, reached out and squeezed my hand. She knew. She always did, I think. I didn’t want her to know anything, though; I didn’t want there to be anything between the butcher’s son and me any longer. I shouldn’t have come to this engagement party. I was an unwelcome guest, even though only Caleb might know that. Unfortunately, my Father and Jacob were good friends. He had invited him personally, and my father had put his foot down when I sulked, not wanting to attend this blessed event. My Father had marched me to my wardrobe and threw what he knew was my best dress onto my bed.

“You will go, and you will enjoy yourself.” He said sternly. “It’s come time for us to find you a suitable match.” I pouted in response and sat on my bed, not wanting to look at him.

“There’s no one here for me,” I said. “Can’t I just stay here at the farm with you and Mom?” I didn’t want to feel wanted at the cost of what pain I had felt. I wanted my quiet and simple life here, with my parents who loved me. My father uncrossed his arms and sat down next to me, softening his tone.

“We won’t be here forever, darling.” He said, putting his large arms around my shoulder. “I need to find you someone to protect you so that you can keep this farm. It doesn’t have to be right away, but you need to be in places where you might meet someone.” I tucked my head into his chest. He was right; I wouldn’t be able to hold this farm’s title in my hands alone. I needed a husband to be able to keep it. I hated how this world had never respected what I could do as a woman. Even when I trained to fight with my father, it had always been in private how women could be healers, mothers, and not much else. I yearned for a place where I could exist, simply as I was. Where I didn’t need to hide parts of myself- but that was not my reality. I didn’t want to think of my parents dying- death doesn’t care if you wish to think of her or not, though. She comes for us all in the end.

“I’ll go,” I said softly. My father patted me and made his exit from my room. I plucked at the small orange and pink flowers my mother had embroidered onto the neckline of my best dress. The waist gathered into the same cream linen tiers, forming a full skirt. It was a dress that deserved to be twirled. I knew I would do no dancing at Caleb’s engagement party, but I heeded my father and slipped the gown on. I tried to tamp down my emotions; I needed to make my heart cold to Caleb. Just an hour at the party, I could do this.

Now, standing on this dirt road in the middle of town, eyeing the “happy couple,” I was miserable. I couldn’t even fake it for my father’s sake, and Mother sensed it. As my father spoke to Jacob, I sulked over to a barrel of mead. My mother made moves to follow me, but I shot her a glance that let her know I wanted to be alone, and she heeded it. If I was going to have to be here, I could at least be drunk; I splashed more of the golden nectar into my cup. Quickly drinking the entirety of that sweet liquid, I poured myself another before slipping down that familiar alley behind the butcher shop.

There’s a reason we had met here so many times. The alley’s layout and surrounding buildings made it easily accessible but almost completely hidden from the more populated parts of the street. No window peered into it, and there was no angle from the main road, except should you stand directly at the alley’s opening, that could view the happenings of the narrow street. In my best dress, with a belly and a cup full of mead, I sat on the wooden crate near the butcher’s backdoor a belly and a cup full of mead. I nursed the cup letting the alcohol spread its warmth through my chest. How long would it take me to become numb? Tilting my head back onto the cool stones of the building, I looked upwards and saw the last fleeting light of dusk, the alley only illuminated by the gas street light at its end. I was a prisoner to this body; along for the ride, I went through the motions knowing who would soon be at the alley’s entrance. I could do nothing to stop it.

“You look beautiful.” A voice said from the curb at the opening of the alleyway. My body gritted its teeth and lowered its gaze. Alone, in his best suit, backlit by the flickering of the lamplight, Caleb stood. He strolled towards me as the rage built into my chest. When he was finally in front of my body, too close, I raised my gaze to him. I hated him so much.

“You should be out in the party looking that lovely, not back here.” He said, removing the cup of mead from my memory’s hands, placing it next to my hip on the crate, and taking that same hand to stroke the side of my memory’s face.

“How could you?” I scowled and pushed his hand away. Caleb shrugged.

“You said no. You told me you didn’t want to marry me, Cordelia.” He said, his lips pulled tightly into a straight line. “What the fuck do you expect me to do? Wait around for you forever?”

“Caleb, not right now isn’t a never.” He let a cruel laugh escape his lips; I cut him off. “You had no problems fucking me after that- did you know you would marry her then?” I spat. Caleb’s eyes softened a bit.

“Cordelia, it’s too late now, so don’t blame me. She has a good dowry, she’s from a good family, but I barely know her.” He dropped to his knees, kneeling before me, placing his elbows on my thighs. “My father had been arranging without telling me. It’s a good match; everyone thinks so” He sighed, returning his hand to my face. “You said no. I asked… I asked before I accepted this arrangement.” His eyes locked onto mine. I didn’t brush his hadn’t away again. My feelings were a mixture of hate and desire, that slow feeling of wanting to be returned. Memory me letting him pull my body up from that crate, pushing it against the wall in a standing position. His lips covered our lips with a greedy, searching kiss.

He was engaged. He was committed to someone he barely knew. He didn’t fight that arrangement; he had said it was a good match. Pain lurched through my chest again. He kissed me harder, bringing his hands up to cup my ass. A good match… The memory and my own feelings matched at that moment.

I brought my knee hard into his balls, indeed more sensitive now with the blood that traveled there in anticipation. He screamed, clutching his manhood and pushing me hard to the ground. I soaked in his pain, the mere trifle compared to what I had gone through in the past few days, but it bought me a strange sense of comfort.

“Don’t ever touch me again.” My mouth spat at him. I could feel my body’s sadness turn to hate. His nostrils flared like an angry bull; he reached toward me to pull me up from the ground, “You bitch!” He whispered. Right before his hand reached me, I heard another voice coming from the entry to the alley.

“Boy, if you so much as lay another hand on her.” It boomed. I turned my head to see my father unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt to roll the sleeves up past his forearms—the only good part of this memory. I wished I could slow it down to take in his triumphant protecting form. Hot breath was visible in the cool night air, escaping his thickly bearded mouth. “I’ll make sure your hands never work again.” He stomped toward Caleb. My body scrambled to its feet, running past my father. He grabbed my arm with his hand, looked me in the eyes, and said, “I’m sorry. Go home.” I followed the track of the memory and turned my head back towards Caleb, fear welling in his eyes. Surely thinking of all the stories the other men had spoken of my father, his strength, and the men he had truly broken with his fists. I broke from Father’s grip and ran.

The mead, well-worked into my system at this point, made my running clumsy. The soles of my feet hit with awkward angles, my ankles unsteady. The memory ran past my mother, who yelled my name, onlookers with puzzled faces, and Caleb’s beautiful fiancé. I pitied her. I  knew I was hauling my body to the road that led home.

The memory had made it to the pear orchard. Rotting, now slightly frozen pears littered the ground. Catching her breath, my body leaned against the nubby tree trunk. I remember thinking that my father, Abe, might kill him. That I was glad, I didn’t stay for what was ensuing now. I did hate Caleb, and I genuinely hate him. I knew somewhere deep down, though, that to feel that hate meant I must have thought it was the opposite somewhere in my heart. Sliding my back down the tree, I landed on my ass, pulling my knees into my chest, and cried. I wrapped my cloak around my body and nuzzled into its warmth.

“I hope he never wakes up; I hope she kneed his cock clean from his hips,” I heard my father say in the distance. Two sets of footsteps; he must be walking home with my mother. I urged my body to reach for them, get off my ass and run. Stop them. I knew what had happened next.

“I hope I have a balm for these cuts on your hand, “ my mother said in return.

I remembered I didn’t want my father to see me like this as I hurried to the far side of the large pear tree. I would stay here for a bit longer, I knew. My body is just thinking that the cold was not so unbearable between my cloak and stomach full of alcohol- that false heat is produced. I closed my eyes and tried to find silence in my mind. I hated being this vulnerable, feeling everything like this. I hated knowing what happened next. I waited for the magic tingling, the winds, anything that would whip me out of this vision before its conclusion. I needed focus. I counted the pears that littered the ground. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, my counting in the hundreds, but the chill crept deeper than it had before. My memory’s face was no longer wet with tears; it lifted its still drunk body, bracing against the tree as I stumbled. I would go home now. Everything felt heavier than it had before,  but I made my way down the path to our farm.

The memory approached my home; I heard screaming, my hand flinging open the door. Not again, please, anything but this again. I begged silently. There was the great beast. My mother’s head held his gaze; she was unafraid. She never looked towards me; she stood there, her graceful bodies chest puffed towards the beast.

“RUN!”.