A Deadly Injustice

PROLOGUE

The old man spooned the last of the nutritious soup into his toothless mouth, and lay back feeling satisfied. Things were working out beautifully. The girl seemed more amenable now he had beaten her. She obviously could not have learned from her previous husband about the Three Duties of a woman. They were obedience to your father before marriage, obedience to your husband after marriage, and obedience to your son after your husband’s death. Always obedience, and always to the male line. He guessed that perhaps her first husband had not lasted long enough to instil the concept of her duties into her properly with a stick as he should have done. It was said that he was a sickly boy, who had grown up into a sickly man not suited to marriage. His mother had arranged for the girl to marry him, probably against her will. At twenty, soon after she got married, she had been made a widow. This naturally made her a tarnished woman, as she had belonged to another. Though he surmised that, being weak and ill, the husband may not have even carried out his obligations as a husband. She could still be a virgin, but he didn’t know. He supposed she might make a fuss if he tried to test her with an egg as many did in rural areas. He thought he would insist on it all the same. But be that as it may, the old man knew he could not be choosy when it came to finding a wife for his stupid son. It had taken him a while, with several rejections and much compromising, before the girl had come to his attention. Yes, this one would do. Especially as she came with a mother-in-law, who would suit his needs. A double wedding could be arranged. And if it didn’t work out for him concerning the old lady, he could have the young girl for himself.

His stomach rumbled, and he felt some discomfort bubble up. When he tried to ease around on his bed in order to find a more comfortable spot, he found he couldn’t. He realized that his legs seemed to be numb, and he had some difficulty turning over. He cursed his old age, and coughed harshly. His chest felt tighter than usual, and he found it difficult to draw in a deep breath. Once again his bowels bubbled, and he clenched his buttocks against an uneasy feeling of looseness. He felt a wave of nausea suddenly rising, and didn’t know if he would vomit or shit first. He began to panic and tried to rise from his bed but his limbs were useless, not responding to his increasingly sluggish brain. He felt very ill, and tried to call out for help. But the only sound he could make was a sort of rattle in his throat. His vision began to dim, and his head spun. Finally his guts gave up the struggle and gurgled horrendously. His last act before dying was to besmirch himself from both ends at once.