10
Late one night Joia had a visitor in her room. It was Ysabella, the woman who’d become like a second mother to her. This time the matron sounded more alarmed than during any other of her secret visits. Joia steeled herself for bad news.
“Beware of Clemencia!” Ysabella whispered anxiously. “Her mood has become most foul these last few days. I fear she intends to do you harm, my precious one.”
“But what have I done to displease her?” Joia wanted to know. She knew Mistress was increasingly ill-tempered toward her. But she could see no reason for it.
“Master favors you and she does not like it. She sees you as a threat to her power. There is gossip within these walls that Master soon plans to elevate you. Clemencia is exceedingly angry.”
Joia felt her heart quicken. Was it true? Did Master feel for her as she had begun to feel for him?
Perhaps she was naïve. She could not yet see Mistress as a serious threat. “What can she do to me while Master is here?”
“That is just it!” Ysabella gasped anxiously. “Master has gone away for several days! Clemencia has power until he returns!”
She paused as though listening intently. Then she quietly whispered, “It is dangerous for me to speak this way. Mistress has spies everywhere. Now I must go. But you must beware of Clemencia, my precious Joia.”
Ysabella lightly kissed her forehead. Then she was gone, leaving Joia panting heavily in the dark. Her heart raced as her mind began formulating dark, fearsome thoughts of the blade at work once more.
—
The next morning her fears intensified when she could not locate her beloved Ysabella. No one claimed to have seen her. Thus, she was left alone in the cistern as the other matrons bathed their charges.
Her heart was gripped with a cold fear. No amount of warm water could alleviate her discomfort. Then she saw Clemencia enter the room, a disturbing look of immense satisfaction written in her features.
Joia’s heart skipped a beat as she anxiously blurted out, “Mistress? Where is Ysabella?”
“Is she not here?” Clemencia asked in surprise, looking all around. Then she stretched out her hand in an act of genuine concern.
“Come, little one. Let us look for her together.”
“But I am wet and am not dressed!”
Clemencia’s eyes narrowed coldly. “If you wish to find her, you will come as you are.”
Mistress’ voice was dark and foreboding. Her eyes were filled with menace, filling Joia with dread. “Quickly, you little wretch! We must go now. There is so very little time.”
The other girls turned toward them, overhearing the conversation. They watched in confusion and alarm. Joia gasped in horror.
She shivered with dread as she feared the worst. She whimpered softly as she allowed herself to be pulled out of the cistern. Then she was dragged by an arm through the passageways in a terribly familiar direction, her naked body dripping wet as she fought back panic.
They reached the room with the door leading outside. Joia couldn’t help choking back a sob. At that moment she instinctively knew.
They stepped outside together. That’s when she let out a wail of grief at who she saw lying horizontally on the bench. Two guards stood nearby.
Ysabella, her dear matron – a woman whom she considered as her second mother – lay naked on the wooden slab. Her head was locked in place below the ominously dangling blade. Her legs were spread shamefully.
Her knees were bent as her bare feet touched the ground. The older woman panted heavily. Her eyes were open wide as she looked up at the sharpened implement of her impending demise.
Joia cried out in horror. This time there were no shameful feelings. There was only sorrow, and a disturbance in her stomach at the sight of her dear matron lying helpless on the slab.
“What is THIS??” she exclaimed in alarm. “Why is Ysabella laid thus? What crime has she committed?”
Clemancia paid her no mind. Instead, she looked upon the imperiled woman with a sinister smile. Then she coldly stated, “Now that your charge is here as witness, would you care to recant your testimony?”
“NOO!” Joia cried out in desperation, feeling as if her heart might explode out of her chest. “The fault is mine! I did the deed! I should be the one…!”
“Be silent, child!” Ysabella demanded, turning her head to scold her. Then the matron looked at Clemencia in resignation.
“I recant my testimony, Mistress. The child had nothing to do with it. The guilt is mine. I took the item in question.”
“There,” Mistress replied with a look of smug satisfaction on her face. “Was that so hard?”
Joia shook her head as tears filled her eyes. Then she turned toward Mistress, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “Please,” she begged, reaching a hand out to her. “Release her! Let this not be so! I alone will shoulder the blame!”
“Joia,” Ysabella called over to her in a soothing tone. “You must keep still, my child. Do not dishonor me in this manner by taking upon yourself what is mine to bear.”
Joia swallowed hard as tears streamed down her cheeks. “It is done!” Clemencia responded authoritatively. “She has confessed! She will suffer a thief’s punishment – a loss of her hands as well as her head!”
“Please,” Joia begged as she fought back more tears. “If this is to be, then allow me to go to her one last time.”
The hug she wanted was already denied her by Ysabella’s arms being strapped down. Joia just wanted to touch her dear matron one more time in a last act of affection. She wished to receive Ysabella’s gentle, loving kiss upon her forehead once more, an expression of tenderness denied her all those years back home.
Mistress remained cruel and unyielding. “She is a miserable thief, a wretched cur! Nothing will touch her now but the blade!”
Joia sobbed, “Oh, Ysabella!”
Her matron smiled sadly at her. In her condemned eyes was the look of a mother’s love. “I will always cherish you, my precious Joia. Be strong… for yourself and for the others.”
Mistress sneered at her. “Brave words for a common thief.”
“One day you will go too far, Clemencia, I only wish I could be here to witness that day.” Ysabella’s final act of defiance was to dishonor her by dispensing with the title of Mistress.
“It will not be today, you miserable wretch! Even now you show disrespect!”
“Respect is a quality earned. But today you have soiled it.”
Ysabella turned and looked up at the hooded executioner who waited patiently. This day he seemed more hesitant than usual. “You may now have my head,” she said calmly before inhaling deeply.
Her comment enraged Clemencia. She furiously hollered, “Your head is not yours to give, old woman! It is mine to take!” Then she told the executioner, “SLAY THE WRETCH!”
Joia started to gasp heavily as though she couldn’t get enough air. The contents of her stomach churned violently inside her. Thankfully she did not feel those shameful stirrings.
What she did experience was horror and revulsion. It was as if her own flesh and blood was lying shamefully exposed on that slab of wood. What hurt most of all was the feeling of powerlessness, the inability to do anything other than witness the cruel act.
The executioner reached for the rope. Joia saw Clemencia lean forward as though eager to witness what was to come. Then Joia’s head started to spin as the bile rose inside her.
She shook her head in denial of what she knew was forthcoming. She moaned as she started to tremble in abject horror. Surely this was nothing more than a horrible dream!
Ysabella looked up expectantly at the hovering blade. Then she closed her eyes. After all, it was not necessary to witness the plummeting blade.
For a moment she looked at peace, as though she was doing nothing more than reclining for an afternoon’s rest. The only thing that gave away the imminence of her demise was the anxious heaving of her chest. Then the rope was released.
The blade fell smoothly. It rapidly bottomed out with a loud think. Ysabella’s head was cleanly severed from her neck.
The body instantly started to buck and jerk, confined within the straps. Joia watched in horror as the head bounced and then rolled twice, coming to rest face up. Ysabella’s eyes had flown open in surprise as though she had not expected what had just happened.
The executioner reached down and picked Ysabella’s skull up by her graying locks. There was the faintest flicker of life in the fading pupils. The lips twitched a little.
He dutifully showed it to both Joia and Clemencia. That’s when Joia’s legs failed her. She crumpled to the ground as the remnants of her meal spewed out of her mouth.
For several moments she was quite ill, her stomach churning violently. Then the moment passed. When she found her voice, she began to wail bitterly, rocking back and forth on her knees in her nakedness, totally overcome with grief.
“Sever the thief’s hands and feed them to the dogs!” Mistress demanded coldly. “Then take her severed head and her worthless body out to the deep woods! Leave them there for the wild animals to feast upon! That is the only end befitting a common thief!”
At Clemencia’s cruel words, Joia cried out even louder. Now she was to have no grave to visit. It felt as if her world had totally collapsed, leaving her with nothing to live for.
There was a flicker of something in the head which the executioner held up, a twitching of the eyes and lips. Perhaps there was life enough for Ysabella to discern what had just been spoken. In her last moments of consciousness, did she fully understand the dishonorable disposition of her remains?
Perhaps it was something else. Maybe it was her dying reaction to the obvious grief of her beloved Joia who now lay sprawled upon the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. A few moments later everything in the face sagged tiredly, evidence that what had once been Ysabella was no more.
Mistress leaned over Joia and smiled cruelly. Her gentle pat on the shoulder betrayed her true feelings toward the young woman. “Now you see who has the power in this place, little one. Beware lest you lose your own head before Master returns.” Then, with a sadistic chuckle, she left her there and went inside, leaving a naked Joia to weep bitterly upon the ground.
In her grief Joia did not witness the executioner cutting off Ysabella’s hands with a machete. But she heard the thumps. Joia winced with each blow as though it was being done to her own body.
When she looked up, she saw the guards unstrapping the headless body of her matron. It set her to wailing anew. When she had nearly cried herself out, she looked around to discover she’d been left alone.
Joia finally rose up, sniffling as she blinked tears out of her eyes. She looked all around. But there was no sign of the guards nor the body of her matron.
Numb with shock and grief, Joia slowly made her way back inside the building. She no longer cared that she was still naked. She did not notice that several of the vehicles not attached to those of her Master were now gone, along with one of the trucks…
2010; 2021 (written for Aravanna and Hitomi Mar 15 ’10; ed. Mar 20 ’21 by riwa)
11
When she returned to the room containing the cistern, the other matrons were gone. Her sisters still remained. But they were strangely subdued.
It did not matter. She had lost her precious Ysabella. Now she was numb with grief.
One of them spotted her and blurted her name out in surprise. The rest turned and looked at her from their places in the water. Most were shocked to discover she had returned.
Several began to murmur amongst themselves. Marsona turned and gasped as though astonished, yet gratified, to see her. Then she saw the look of despair on Joia’s face.
She came up out of the water to greet her. But she did not immediately obtain a covering for her nudity. Such was her concern for her friend.
“Are you ok, Joia? We all heard distressing news and feared you might be dead.”
Joia bowed her head. Marsona looked around in confusion. “Where is Ysabella?”
“Clemencia had her slain,” Joia answered numbly. There were gasps of horror from the girls.
Acknowledging the bitter truth triggered a fresh set of tears. Joia began to sob again.
Marsona gently wrapped her up in her arms. She held her close, not caring their naked bodies were pressed together. “Come, Joia,” she murmured. “Let the warm waters soothe your spirit.”
Joia nodded in silence as she sniffled. Marsona guided her down into the waters of the cistern. She was careful lest her friend might slip and hurt herself in her current state.
Several of the girls rose up, sympathetically surrounding her. Many expressed their sorrow. Others tried to offer what little comfort they could.
“We thought you were dead,” one of them explained, the concern evident in her features. “The news is not good.”
“What news?” Joia asked numbly. What news could be worse than losing Ysabella? What more could be done to her?
“The convoy has gone out,” Marsona told her, worry etched in her features. “We’re told they will be bringing new girls back to the compound.” She paused for a long moment before adding, “What does that mean, Joia? What will become of us?”
Joia blinked in surprise, her eyes widening as the news settled in. That’s when she remembered what she had witnessed upon first coming to the compound.
A disturbing image came to mind. It was of that woman who’d looked at her forlornly and then had lost her head. She shivered with dread.
She remembered the truck that had been backed up near the blade. She had wondered what purpose it served. Then she remembered how Alviva had been beheaded and then casually tossed up into the back of the truck like refuse needing to be hauled away.
She now understood the nature of the contents in that truck. She looked around at her naked companions. They were becoming alarmed.
At that moment she felt shameful tinglings of pleasure, tinglings she hoped were not visible to the others. These were usually reserved for herself in her room late at night as her mind ran wild. The other times were when she was intimately involved with Master.
It was not at all unreasonable to guess what Mistress might be up to. There was great danger in the compound for all of them. If what she feared was true, she would most certainly be included among the others in the coming slayings.
At that very moment, Joia’s mind drifted to the thought of her ending. Surely she would end up lying flat on the wooden slab, awaiting the blade to take her head. That’s when she shivered even more with shameful stirrings.
She remembered the words Ysabella had told her before she had died. She had to stay strong for the others. Thus, she vowed to honor the memory of her precious matron by doing exactly that, no matter the cost or how difficult it might be.
“I will speak to Master when he calls for me,” Joia firmly told them, trying to ignore the stirrings inside her. “He has assured me no harm will come to any of you. I will remind him of his words.”
She still hurt over the loss of her matron. But now she felt purpose in her existence. She felt a sense of duty, overseeing to the welfare of her fellow sisters.
“Master is not here!” one of the girls gasped in alarm. “The only one you can speak to now is…”
She did not finish her thought. There was an ominous silence. Everyone knew who was in charge now. There would certainly be no mercy from HER!
“Then I will speak to Master when he returns,” Joia reassured them.
The girls nodded gratefully. But Joia did not feel the same confidence she was trying to portray. She hoped her unease of spirt did not show.
Deep down, she feared Clemencia. Mistress, in her jealous anger, might very well have them all slaughtered before Master returned. By then, it would be much too late to seek an audience with him to intercede on behalf of the others…
2010; 2021 (written for Aravanna and Hitomi Mar 15 ’10; ed. Apr 19 ‘21 by riwa)
