The Play Rite. Chapter five

As soon as she had finished that thought, Viviane grabbed her arm and yanked her to that back, to the water bin. Josefine’s head was shoved down to the water, but it didn’t touch. Viviane’s hand gripped Josefine’s hair as she threatened to push it under, ’I know what you’re thinking, girl. You cannot ask questions. I told you that; no matter what. This man is not here. No one can know. Nothing he has said has anything to do with you. Remember that, or the punishment will be much worse than the water bin.’ Josefine to stay strong, but her voice came out in a whimper, ‘Alright.’ Viviane was breathing hard now. She let go of Josefine and sat down in the corner. Josefine took that opportunity to leave.

Alfred looked around the room. He felt like an expensive china doll in a toy store. He really didn’t belong there. It felt like everyone there wanted him for something, but were afraid to touch him because, god forbid, he might break. His mother spoke first, ‘We are worried about you, Alfred. Your father and I-‘ his father cut in, ‘ Your mother and I have decided that it’s time for you to marry. You need a wife and children. You cannot sleep around all your life and leave nothing behind when you go.’ Alfred was not happy with where this was going, ‘If I sleep around my whole life, I’m bound to father a few children while I’m at it. I mean really, what’s the point of marrying if it, in fact, is no different than not marrying? When you think about it, it’s really quite silly.’ His voice sounded cooler, more in control, than he really felt. His heart was beating faster and his jaw grew tense. Alfred knew what had to be coming next; he knew his father. As his father spoke, he felt the servants all stop. They were waiting for one of them to get angry. The servants were used to the fights between him and his father; they knew that the one who lost would make their lives a living hell. There was no exaggerating, it was true. His father spoke again. His voice softer this time, ‘ There is a… woman’ he cleared his throat, ‘ that I would like you to… well… meet.’ There was a silence; his father was siting like a king, waiting for him to answer. Alfred wanted to kick him off of his throne, ‘If you wish me to marry her, you lose nothing by saying so.’ ’I want you to marry her.’ ‘I will not.’ ‘You are a bastard.’ ‘But I have won.’ With that, he walked away. He knew that he would have to meet her, there was no escaping it, but he would not marry her. If anyone, including himself, had been asked to describe Alfred at that point, there was no question as to what anyone would say; Alfred was a stubborn bastard and he liked it.

The Play Rite. Chapter four

The moment she stepped out of the room, all eyes were on her; ecven the man’s. Lance. Viviane had called him Lance. Josefine realized then that Viviane looked angry. She’d expected that, but under that anger seemed to be relief; another new emotion from Viviane. Viviane stood up. Her eyes were red. She grabbed Josefine’s hand and spoke to her softly,’ Get the waking roots from the cellar, make some tea, and then help me get him onto the bed. Do not repeat anything that he says or that you hear. It is very important for this man to survive. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes.’ She wondered what kind of relationship Viviane had with this man. He was handsome and fairly young. His head was shaved and she noticed a strange marking on the middle of his head, in the back. It looked like the faces of the moon, all lined up together as if to create an infinity sign. Strange. She had never seen a sign like it. Everyone had a sign. They were all born with them. There was a sign for the mountain people, the valley people, the swamp people, the forest people, the dessert people, and the people of the lakes. Her sign did not look like any of their signs, but she had never been told why.

The man’s eyes opened while Josefine was renewing the wet rag on his forehead. She gasped. His eyes were light gray, nearly white. His eyes widened and he grabbed her hand. His words were forced, as if he did not have enough breath, but was desperate to speak,’ Archibald.’ A tear rolled down his cheek,’ Where have you been? I waited for you, but you never came. Your daughter… your daughter misses you. She needs you, Archibald. Josie needs you.’ His eyes were clouded. He wasn’t in the present. When she was younger, everyone had called her Josie. But he couldn’t have been talking about her, could he? Was Archibald her father? Oh, how she wished she could ask him these questions.