Every Boy Should Have a Man

8 In Fever in War

War, war, war, do you know what war is?” the oaf called Gen’rl said, with his lips pursed against her face. “There is a village, and an oaf in that village owns a tree that bears sweet red fruit. The sweetest fruit to eat. Redder than red. Sweeter than sweet. We shall call this oaf Tlotl, for that is a common name. And in this village when the tree of Tlotl is full of fruit, he calls all of his friends who live in the village to eat of the fruit, for the village is small, and all of the oafs who live in it are his friends. Redder than red is the fruit. Sweeter than sweet. Everyone who eats of the fruit is happy. But Tlotl has a friend, and we shall call him Dlapna, for that also is a common name, and this parable represents all oafenkind. And Tlotl and Dlapna have an argument over trifles, a falling out. Dlapna holds a grudge against Tlotl, and Tlotl holds a grudge against Dlapna. Many moons pass during which they do not speak to each other. Then it is that time of year again when the tree of Tlotl becomes ripe with fruit and Tlotl calls all of his friends to come eat of the fruit, for the fruit are plentiful and the village is small, and all who live in it are his friends. They come to eat of the fruit of the tree of Tlotl, even Dlapna, with whom Tlotl had the falling out. Redder than red is the fruit. Sweeter than sweet. Tlotl and his friend Dlapna eat of the fruit together, sharing fellowship and laughter. Neither can remember why it is they have not spoken these many moons. In fact, they have missed each other tremendously. The moral is this: trifles are easily forgiven when the fruit of the tree of Tlotl is in season. So it is in a small village where one oaf owns the tree of sweet fruit and the other has a wife that mends torn garments and another has a bovin that gives sweet milk and another has the gift of sharpening knives and another has the gift of bending shoes for hosses. An oaf cannot stay angry with his neighbor, for his neighbor brings too much goodness to his life. His neighbor is important in his life and he says good morning and good eventide to him each day. War is when Tlotl and Dlapna have a falling out over a trifle, and Dlapna can get his fruit at one of many markets. Then it is the blood of Tlotl and Dlapna and of their children that flows sweeter than sweet, redder than red, in the streets of their village. At least, that is how my father explained it to me when I was a boy. Good night, little mouse. Good night.”

He kissed her again and he fell asleep. And she fell asleep with her face pressed against his lips.

His breath tasted like the corpse of man.

In the morning the one called Gen’rl said to those gathered around the map, “I have never deceived you, and I will not deceive you now. We have lost the mines. Our forces were outmaneuvered and we were forced into a temporary retreat. We have lost much ground, as you know, and the ground that we have lost cannot be retaken with the number we have here. This is not to say that we will not win the day. We will win the day, just not this day. Our mission this morning is to reinforce the western line. We will do our duty and we will do it well. The western line shall be held. And then tomorrow, we will return to the mines and we shall take them if it costs us our very lives.”

They looked at him with determined eyes, each one nodding his head. This we will do, for our standard is true.

The one called Gen’rl said, “Let us pray. Oh great creator, protect us as we do your will. And if we fall in battle, remember us evermore in your kingdom to come!”

And they said, “Verily in your name!”

And he said, “Verily in your name! To arms, great oafen heroes!”

And he left the cave in the company of his officers.

The female man played her small singing harp, but the talkative one was not talkative today, and did not seem much interested in listening to music. He lay on his cot staring up at the ceiling with his single eye. Yesterday’s battle had turned his mood.

It had turned the mood of the three-toothed one as well. He killed and ate no mans today. There was no fire under his spit today.

An hour or so after the others had left for the war, the three-toothed one and the once-friendly one-eyed one made their way over to the cot upon which she sat. They had words to say to each other out of earshot of the others.

“Fine officers we are. We are traitors.”

The one-eyed one said, “Do you think he knows?”

The three-toothed one said, “Perhaps not, but it’s only a matter of time. All fingers point back to us.”

“But does he know?”

“If we don’t get moving today, we’ll be dead. They’ll eat us like they eat mans.”

The one-eyed one shook his head. “But I don’t think he knows. It’s a long ways to go, and the way is very treacherous. Bad weather is coming too. I would like a bit of certainty, if you don’t mind.”

“Waiting for certainty will get you killed. The old boy is no fool.”

“Well, okay,” said the one-eyed one, “how do we do this?”

The three-toothed one put up a finger for emphasis. “We leave. We leave now. We’ll be across the border in three days.”

“We just leave,” said the one-eyed one, “without taking anything? The old boy has got silver under his cot, you know?” Then he tenderly touched the red-haired female man’s cheek. “The advantage of the man on a long journey: loyal traveling companion, tireless beast of burden, and proper meal when nothing else avails.” He gave her cheek a spit’ly lick and added, “Furthermore, she has to be worth a fortune.”

“Take whatever you must,” said the other. “But let’s get out of here now.”

They put the silver in a sack, and they put the sack under a cloak. The one-eyed one reached for her, and she chomped his hand.

“Ouch! I thought they said she was housebroken domesticated.”

She tried to run, but the three-toothed one grabbed her before she could take a second step. She whipped her head around and tried to sink her teeth into him as he secured her arms and legs and mouth.

Then, muttering profanely, they put her in a sack too.

She felt that they were walking. They walked only a few paces before the sack in which she was borne fell to the ground. She heard noisy jangling and assumed that the sack bearing the stolen silver had fallen too.

The hands of the one called Gen’rl came into her sack and lifted her gently out and set her on the ground and removed the cloth that was tied over her mouth.

When she was out of the sack, she saw that the three-toothed one and the one-eyed one were bound in rope and lying on the ground. The entire host of oafen soldiers was gathered around them. The chant, “Spy, spy, spy, at the point of the sword, die, die, die!” was bouncing on everyone’s lips.

She and the sack of silver were taken back into the cave and set down on the cot by one of the oafs, who rushed back outside so as not to miss the show.

Oafen soldiers, she had come to learn, took especial pleasure in watching someone else tortured. Only the weakest of those ailing and injured in the cave remained on their cots. All of the other ailing and injured found the strength to hobble out to see the torture of the two traitors.

Her ears were filled with their screams as the show began.

The mans in the cage slapped their hands over their ears so that they would not have to hear. Mans do not take pleasure in the suffering of anyone, not even their own tormentors.

“Hey, Red. Have you any food for a man who has lost his way?”

She turned. The funny-looking little man was back.

“What do you want now?” she said to him.

From outside, there came the whoosh as of a heavy chain being swung, followed by a soul-searing scream. The little man in the little oafen shoes smiled like music to his ears, then shot both hands into her bowl of grains.

“Food. That’s the first thing,” he said, swallowing fistful after fistful. Then he rubbed his stomach. “Better. Much better.”

Without invitation, he opened the sack of silver on the cot next to her, reached in, and stuffed his pockets greedily with coin, and then said, “That’s the second thing, and that’s it for me,” and dashed toward the opening at the back of the cave.

She shouted after him — shouted, but none of the ailing oafs on their cots took note of it because of the entertainment of the screams from outside. She shouted: “Who are you stealing that money for? He’s going to get in trouble with the authorities, you know?”

His answer surprised her: “I’m stealing it for myself.”

And he disappeared through the hole in the bottom of the cave wall.

She pondered this answer as the torture outside the cave continued. It lasted all day, for oafs are skilled at torture and can make it last all day.

At the end of the day, she assumed the traitors were dead because of the absence of screams, but she still did not have an understanding of the odd little man’s strange answer to her question.

A man who steals for himself.

That evening, to celebrate the death of the traitors, the one called Gen’rl assembled the host of oafs outside before the fires and bid the two oafs of talent play their colored flutes, and the colors were blue for sky and red for blood and gray for hope.

And they played the Life Song of Great Lord Gerwargerulf.

And the one called Gen’rl came and sat beside the red-haired female man as she played on her small singing harp along with the poet and the players of the colored flute.

And the one called Gen’rl put his arm around the female man. She looked up at him and he looked down at her with fever in his eyes.

And the one called Gen’rl ordered that the large cage be emptied of mans.

The cage contained a hundred mans, and they emptied it. And then they emptied the mans of their lives through the brutish methods of the bashing of heads against stone and wood, as they had done the night before, and they did devour the mans with much noise and revelry.

She played through the monstrous festival of blood on her small singing harp the songs she used to play for the boy and his family when she was free, and it helped, though not a lot.

That night after it was all over, she lay on the cot with the one called Gen’rl, and he kissed her as though he were the oafen husband and she were the oafen wife, and that was the beginning.

He ripped off her tunic of war and had his way with her.

She wept all through it.

After his fever for her had been sated, he said, “You know how it ends, don’t you?”

She knew, for she had seen it many times in the mines. Oafs always eat the mans they have ravished.

“I do not want to die. I want to live,” she cried out. “Let me live, I pray, oh master. Oh great master, let me live.”

And the oaf called Gen’rl did chuckle in his amusement. “But what is the life of a man?”

The red-haired female man pleaded for her life. “Is there no mercy in your heart?”

“You are beautiful, and I desire you in a way that is obscene. If I allow you to live I place myself in peril. I have committed a sin against earth and heaven.”

“I will not tell.”

“Hahaha. And what about these good oafs? Will they keep our secret too? Soldiers cannot keep such a secret.” He held her close to his mouth and told her, “We are not the first, and we shall not be the last. There are oafs who have had offspring with mans. No one talks about it, but it is true and it does happen. I would not deceive you. I think we are the same species — we are just bigger, but I am not a scientist so I cannot swear to it, and the ones who have done this thing were put to death or banished and the offspring of their union sold for food. It is an especial meat and expensive. The poor cannot afford it, but I have eaten it many times, this offspring of oaf and man.”

He touched her and she wept a large tear at his touch.

“It is delicious,” he said.

He touched her again and she sobbed loudly.

“Yes, yes. This is indeed regrettable. Soldiers know of this. Soldiers do this all the time, but we do not talk of it. I am an old soldier, and it is a shameful act that I have committed. Tomorrow, after the victorious battle, I will slay and eat you. Don’t think me cruel, for it is better than eating your own children, is it not? It will save us both the embarrassment.”

And he rose up and bound her with rope next to him so that she could not escape. Then he lay back down.

Soon his lips were snoring against her weeping eyes.

That night, her mother came to her in a dream.

Her hair was red like a forest of fires. Her face was brown like the bark of a strong tree in the middle of the forest. And she was smiling a great and triumphant smile.

On her feet were shoes small enough for even a man to wear.

Then her mother, with the triumphant smile upon her face, climbed a great ladder and into the clouds disappeared from sight.

Despite all that had happened, the little female man was comforted by this dream because she understood it to mean: The time has come. Their world shall pass away.