Shame of Man (33 page)

He went to kneel beside her. “I am sorry I made you tell your dream,” he said. “But you need not be shamed. It is not unreasonable.”

She heard him. After a moment she turned her tear-stained face to him. “You are such a kind man.”

“No, merely a man trying to find his way. I regret making you unhappy.”

“I make myself unhappy with foolish notions.” She shifted her position, getting her feet to the floor so she could sit up. In the process she showed a good deal more thigh and breast than she realized. “But this is inappropriate. You are the one in grief. I must stop holding you back from your business.”

She was right. He had chores to do. But her inadvertent exposure was having an illicit effect. Suddenly he was reacting more than he might have to the full open exposure of her body. There was something extraordinarily compelling about the partial view. “I wish it was last night,” he murmured.

“Last night?” Then she glanced at herself. “Oh. This is nothing. You are welcome to whatever you want. It is a gift gladly given. But surely you know that if you borrow it, you may in time want to buy it.”

An incitement to marriage. Again, she was surely right. She was giving him fair warning. “He who handles vipers risks getting bitten,” he said.

She laughed. “How apt an image. But I have another. He who handles fresh fruit at the market risks having to purchase it.” She caught his right hand with her left hand and brought it to her exposed left breast. The touch of that not quite forbidden fruit abolished whatever restraint had remained to him.

He moved into her and kissed her. She met him eagerly. Then they were on the bed, and he was on her and in her, doing what he had resolved not to do. And she was weeping, but not with grief. As before, they remained clasping each other long after the physical passion was spent. They did not separate until they heard someone approaching the house.

Then they had to go into a flurry of repairs, mutually administered, so they could meet the visitor in good order, though they knew it was only Crystal coming to be of assistance. Today, Huuo resolved, he would go to take those bones for the funeral and burial ceremonies.

Annai despaired of getting herself and the children presentable. They had only the clothes they had worn when abducted, and those had been roughly treated. “At least get us some clean robes!” she cried to the mute woman who guarded them.

She expected no more response than she had gotten on any of the past days of their confinement. But this time there was something else. “Give them robes,” a man's voice said.

There was a pause. Then the woman appeared at the tiny window normally used to introduce their food and remove their refuse. She shoved in a pile of cloth.

Annai took it eagerly. “Thank you,” she said politely, for this was behavior she wanted to encourage. When she unfolded it, there were three robes: one large one and two small ones. Exactly what she and the children needed.

She got the children changed, then changed herself. Because she had heard the man's voice, she was cautious, and faced into the stone corner so that no more of her body showed than was necessary. The changing took only a moment. Then she brushed out her hair with her fingers and braced herself for whatever was to come. Because she was sure this was no incidental visit.

The man's face appeared at the window. “I would like to talk with you, not quarrel with you,” he said. “You are a Philistine lady. Will you give me your word not to behave in an uncivilized manner?”

“Uncivilized!” she exclaimed. “My house gets raided, the children and I get knocked on our heads and bound and hauled for days we know not where, wrapped in coarse blankets so we almost suffocate, and finally dumped in this bare cell like so much garbage, and you expect civilized behavior? That woman never even speaks to us, just shoves in food every so often. Fresh robes can't fix the mess we're in or the stink of which we reek.”

“You seem remarkably clean and sweet, regardless,” he says. “Your class shows.”

Annai had used tearstrips from their old robes to make clothes, and had dipped them in the water left over from their meals, to wipe herself and the children as clean as was feasible. She had spoken somewhat hyperbolically in her distress; she certainly hoped they did not smell. But in these close confines it was hard to be sure. “If you behave, we will,” she said.

“That suffices.” The man went around to the barred door, and it a moment it opened. He entered and stood a moment outlined by the light beyond. He was a tall, solid, armed man, obviously too strong to be overcome by any ordinary woman. In any event, she had pledged no mischief.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Are you the one responsible for this outrage?”

“I admit I am, to a degree,” he said. “Lady, do you know me?” He removed his helmet.

She stared at him. “Why—you are Zebub, the nefarious schemer. We have met on occasion during the festivals.”

“True. In this case it is perhaps well that I am such, because an avenue was open to me that would not have been to another man. Are you aware of the fate of your house and husband?”

“The fate of—” Her hand flew to her mouth. “No.”

“Then I have unfortunate news to impart. You were the victims of a chance raid by hill folk, who rioted when their cattle stampeded in your city. Seeing their opportunity, they ravaged several houses on their way out. Evidently taking you for nobility, they took you and your children for hostage, so that they would not be pursued too closely. They burned your house as an additional distraction. Evidently this was effective, because there was no effective pursuit.”

“My husband,” Annai said tightly.

“He was on his way back to your city after the festival. He learned of the raid, and went after the hill folk, not waiting for a proper expedition. That is perhaps understandable, as expeditions can take forever to mount. He had been told you were dead, but he refused to believe it. But the hill folk ambushed him and killed him.”

“Oh!” Annai cried, and both children screamed.

“But once they were home without complications, the hill folk were not certain what to do with their captives,” Zebub continued. “They were too ignorant to know how to negotiate for ransom. You did not speak their language, and did not know their ways, so they feared you would make poor slaves. They did appreciate the fact that one captive was a beautiful woman, and realized that perhaps she could be sold to some man who desired her for the obvious purpose. That left the children, whom they deemed to be too old for full assimilation into their tribe. So probably they would have killed them.”

Despite their mutual shock at the news of Huuo's death, Annai and the children listened attentively, realizing how relevant the man's discourse was. Annai sold as a sex slave, and Chipp and Minah killed? That had not happened, but they still did not know what their actual situation was.

“Fortunately I was in the vicinity, dealing in sundry items of trade,” Zebub said. “I have learned their language. They asked me whether I would be interested in a lovely female slave. The truth is that I do dabble on occasion in the slave trade, which can be lucrative. But when I learned that this was a Philistine woman and two Philistine children, I knew this was no ordinary situation. Apparently the good folk of Mor did not even realize that this family was alive, or there would have been a reprisal and recovery expedition. But if a highborn woman turned up on the slave market, there would be severe repercussions. Philistines do not tolerate the enslavement of members of their noble class. I realized that something had to be done, or she would find herself not only enslaved but with her tongue cut out so as to conceal her identity, as is the case with my personal slave women here.”

Suddenly Annai understood why the woman never spoke. “Her tongue—?”

“It is a routine precaution in some circles, just as is gelding or blinding male slaves. So I knew I would have to act. So I bought her and the children, though uncertain how I might recoup my investment. It seemed to be the prudent thing to do. I had them delivered to my residence. Now imagine my surprise to discover the identity of these captives: the Lady Annai of Mor, whom I have encountered socially.”

There was something disingenuous about his story. He must have known their identities before this. Why, then, had he not freed them? But she hesitated to ask, lest she not like the answer. “Yes, I am Annai, and these are my children. We have been held here, uncertain of our fate.”

“That was unfortunate. But I had business elsewhere, and could not attend you sooner.” He studied her. “May I speak with candor?”

This was mischief. She feared that she knew what was on his mind, but also knew that a direct rebuff might well result in getting her raped before the children. If it was going to happen, she wanted to spare the children the sight. “That depends on the nature of your concern.”

“I confess that you have always struck me as not only a beautiful woman, but a sensible one. My sister is a dancer too, and so I appreciate the art of that form, and know you to be a very fine practitioner.”

“Thank you,” she said guardedly. “I have danced with Scylla, and she is very good.”

“In fact, I deem you to be the equal of my sister, the only woman I have encountered to be so.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, even more guardedly. What was the man working up to? He was being surprisingly social, considering the situation. She knew his reputation, and therefore trusted this not at all.

He glanced at the children, who were tensely quiet. “Perhaps these two are hungry. They could go and eat with the slave while we converse here.”

This was definitely trouble, but she needed to know its nature and extent. “Go with the slave woman,” Annai told them.

Chipp seemed to want to protest, but Annai silenced him with a glance. Reluctantly he and his sister went out of the cell to join the waiting slave.

“You are indeed sensible, and your children well disciplined,” Zebub remarked. “I appreciate that.”

“Say what you have to say,” she said, schooling herself not to clench her teeth. Did he intend to rape her now, knowing she would not scream lest it alert her children? Yet why should he care about their reactions? His ultimate motive remained a sinister mystery.

“You are now a widow. You would do well to remarry, after a suitable interval. I have perhaps understated my admiration for you. Do you understand?”

Annai's jaw dropped. “You can't mean—!”

“My sister is the finest woman I know. But I can not marry her. You, however, I can. I realize that you lack a similar interest in me. But I point out that if you marry me, I will adopt your children and guarantee their success in life, exactly as I will those I have with you. You yourself will have all the privileges of the lady you are.”

This was worse than anything she had feared. But now she had to ask. “And the alternative?”

“I think we need not explore that.”

“I think we do. What gives you the notion that I would ever in life accede to such a relationship?”

Zebub shook his head. “I feared it would come to this distasteful discussion, which is why I preferred to have it private. I will of course give
you time to consider, for you are in mourning for your husband. But you are surely aware that your children, however important to you, would be something of an encumbrance to me.”

“My children!” she said, experiencing the worst of chills.

“I see we understand each other. If, after a reasonable period of consideration, you appear to be unreasonable, we should have to test the issue with one child. If that did not suffice—”

“May I speak with candor?” she inquired, emulating his phraseology.

“By all means.”

“You are an unspeakable son of a beaten dog, grandson of a festering pig, and cousin of a rabid bat. The dung beetles would sicken on your refuse. The stench of your personality causes the underworld itself to recoil. When the criminals of all time are reckoned by the gods, your name will surely be listed seven times, and the very parchment will smolder with indignation at the insult of bearing it.”

Zebub smiled. “I appreciate your felicity of expression, which indicates a ready mind—something I value almost as much as a lovely body. I take that as the commencement of your consideration of the offer,” he said, making a small bow. “I am gratified that you are not turning it down.”

He departed, leaving her to her consideration. The notion revolted her, but he was in essence correct: short of killing herself and her children, she would probably in the end have to accede to his desire. The alternative would be to see first one child tortured and killed, and then the other, and then to be ravished until he tired of her, after which her tongue would be cut out and she would be dumped in some distant slave market to finish her life in degrading menial work under the whip. It might actually be better to let him marry her and sire his brats on her. She would ponder the matter. So for all her emotional “felicity of expression,” she had indeed not actually turned him down.

Soon Chipp and Minah returned to the cell. They had been fed, and not hurt. But Zebub had made his point: they were hostage to her cooperation. She could stall only so long before giving him an answer, and he would accept only one.

He knew, of course, that once she gave him her word, even under cruel duress, she would honor it. She would be given more freedom. But he would probably keep the children confined for a while anyway, just to be sure.

Suppose she attacked him before giving her answer? She had once used her skill as a dancer to foil a man's untoward advance, but she suspected that Zebub would be alert for just such a move. She would have to catch him by surprise, with a weapon he didn't anticipate.

What she needed was a knife. Since there was no prospect of getting one, she would have to see whether she could make one. It was her only realistic chance.

With that decision made, she was able to focus on her emotion. It was time to morn for Huuo.

Crystal brought fruits and bread and set to work preparing the noon meal. Huuo was diffident about talking with her, fearing that she would realize that he had been intimate with Scylla. He knew she would not approve, and he agreed with her nonapproval; she was in a sense the embodiment of his conscience. But guilty as he felt, he now recognized that he was in a fashion smitten with the lovely dancer, and would be bedding her again. It was the only way he could experience any part of the joy he had felt with his wife.