The Play Rite. Chapter three

Josefine heard a voice in the hall, it was Viviane’s voice, but what was she saying? Josefine listened more closely. The room seemed to grow quieter so she could hear. There was a man, too. He was speaking,’ Is the girl here now?’ They seemed to be walking toward her. Viviane spoke ,’She is, but she was asleep when I left.’ ‘How do you that she hasn’t woken up?’ ‘The girl, she’s as lazy as her father, sleep all day if she could.’ It was true, but she’d never heard Viviane mention her father before. The man spoke again, ’Do not the wise men know? If so, then she could not possibly take part in the rite. She has no right. Perhaps it was a mistake.’  She could hear Viviane opening a cupboard and taking out a glass jar. Probably to make tea, ‘Do you really think that the wise men could make a mistake like this? No. they had to know what they were doing.’ Big boots shook the small room. The floor creaked as the man leaned in to whisper, ‘Viviane. What if it wasn’t a mistake? What if it were written?’ ‘Lance, are you saying what I think you are? That this is one of the great fates? Though you yourself are a child of the legends, you must know that not even the greatest of men have seen or been seen in the great fates. No one is sure that they even exist anymore… Lance?’ there was a thump. As if someone had fallen down, onto the wooden floor. ‘Lance, please. Oh, please, lance. Please…’ Her words turned into a whisper, ‘Please.’ For once Viviane sounded afraid. There were times when she had been worried for a villager’s life or even slightly unhappy about the death of a villager, but this was real emotion. What had happened, and, more importantly, who was this man? She had to make sure everything was okay.

The Play Rite. Chapter two.

Josefine woke with a start. Her forehead was sweaty and her head was pounding like one of the old tribes’ war drums. She tried to remember her dream. After the ceremony she had come down here and, when she couldn’t find Viviane anywhere, went to sleep. She had dreamed about a ship. A great big ship with everyone she’d ever loved on board (she hadn’t recognized the people, just the feeling). The boat had left before she could get on it. Get to her mother.

This was the first time Josefine had ever dreamt about her mother. Josefine’s mother had died only a few days after she was born. Viviane had taken care of her since and, no matter how much she had asked as a child, she wouldn’t tell Josefine anything about her mother. Sooner or later she had stopped asking.

Alfred’s head ached. He had drunk far too much mead last night. He was about to get up when he realized that there was a girl in his bed. Again. Her hair was blond this time and she was thin, but he could hardly see why he had chosen her last night. She was no great beauty, to say the least. His eyes rolled down her back and then he gave her a little shove. She woke up, arms flailing, and then sat up. She looked at him, blushed, and kissed him. He sat there and waited. Once she realized that he was sitting there, not kissing her back and, quite frankly, not reacting at all, she slapped him hard on the face, grabbed her clothes, and slapped him again. This was a normal reaction to his cruelty. Alfred knew that it was a horrible thing to do, but he didn’t really care. He wasn’t getting married anytime soon, for he enjoyed being single far too much. Why should he get married? He had no children- that he knew of- and more than enough time to make some.