The Owl Killers

osmanna

i’D WATCHED THE PALE LIGHT in the tiny slit of the window turn pink and grey, then shiver into hyacinth. But now there was nothing, not night, nor day. Just a shimmering oblong of pearl, hanging high above my head. I thought I had slept without knowing and it was dawn and they were coming for me, but it couldn’t be daylight; that whiteness was not the sun.

I was so cold. I had not known how cold my head could feel without my hair. The horn-shaped hat with its scarlet letters waited for me by the door, waited for me to put on my new name. It was too dark to read the word anymore, but I did not need to read it. Know your own name, old Gwenith had said, but deep down I had always known it. It was there at my birth, the Demon star, Lilith’s star, the evil eye that winks at man from the heavens. It was my star now, for under that star was I born and under it would I die. Birth and death they are the same; the one curses the other.

My nursemaid told me that I was born with her sign. It was only a little thing, a tiny red mark on my chest, shaped like a crescent moon, Lilith’s symbol and Lilith’s curse. Three days after I was born, my father had taken a hot iron from the fire and ordered my nurse to strip me of my swaddling bands and stretch my little body out. Then he laid the red hot metal to my mark to rid me of the curse. It would keep me chaste, he said, drive out the demon whore, for, as everyone knows, fornication is the greatest sin and my father demanded chastity. My nursemaid swore she pleaded with him to stop, but he held the brand there, determined to obliterate every trace of the curse. It burnt deep into the flesh beneath. I had taken many moons to heal and she feared I wouldn’t live, but I had.

Lilith, the night-hag, the winged demon with hairy legs and goat’s feet. The bloodsucker who rides the night, who invades men’s dreams and steals their seed. Who strangles babies in their mothers’ wombs and devours her own children. She fled Adam before the fall, before he brought death into the world. She is immortal. She cannot die. She cannot die in the flames. They will go on burning her forever and she will not die. There cannot be an end to her pain. She will be bound forever, naked and screaming.

If willpower alone could have made my heart stop… but it wouldn’t stop. It just kept on beating as if I wanted to live. I’d taken off my shift and twisted it into a noose. I tried to climb the wall to the bars on the window to hang the noose from them, but I couldn’t reach them. For hours I had searched every inch of that cell, trying to find a nail to scratch open my veins or a sharp shard buried beneath the straw; even in the dark I went on searching with my fingertips. Groping through the straw, sweeping my hands over the cold flags trying to find one scrap of something I might have missed. Let them not burn me. Blessed Virgin, let me not burn. Please let me die now. I cannot bear it. I know I cannot bear it.

There were voices outside the window, a woman’s voice and murmuring words too low to be distinct, excited laughter, then a thump against the wooden door.

“I told you, she’s not coming. I saw her ride off towards the forest,” the woman said.

“So, the bitch really believes she can stand against the Aodh, does she? It will be her last ride.”

“Don’t you fancy a ride, Master? Come on-it’s a pity to waste the evening.”

The man laughed. I knew that deep mirthless laugh. It was my cousin Phillip.

“I usually prefer them young and tender, but why not? Most of the women in this village think they have to put up a show of resistance. It gets a little tiresome. They are all strumpets under their skirts; it makes a change to find an honest slut.”

There was a resounding slap on well-rounded flesh and the woman laughed.

“God’s blood… what you wearing?” Phillip was panting. “It would be easier to bed a virgin abbess, and don’t think I haven’t tried.”

“If you’re too weak, I’d best find a man who can keep his end up.”

Another slap, a squeal and low chuckle.

“I could fuck you till dawn and still have strength enough to whip you bloody for the whore you are.”

“Could you now? Why don’t you put your prick where your mouth is and prove it then?” The voice belonged to Pega!

Phillip was grunting hard like a farrowing sow. I stuffed my fingers in my ears, but I could still hear the moans and pants as they copulated against the wall. How could they? How could she? She must have known I could hear them; why else would she have come here? I wanted to scream at them to go away, but they’d only laugh and do it all the more. A final groan and it was over.

For a long time I could hear nothing except their deep panting breaths. Then finally Pega spoke. “I’ve wine here; that’ll get you going again. Come on, drink up. I warrant it’s better than that arsehole of a priest is supping tonight.”

“I can swear to that,” Phillip answered. “I’ve suffered the pig’s piss that priest calls wine more than once. Where did you steal this from?”

“The house of women, of course. The leader doesn’t stint herself there. Straight from France this. Sit yourself down and rest a while. Get your strength up; you’ll be needing it. I’ve a few tricks to show you that I warrant none of your highborn ladies can teach you.”

“I bet you learned… a thing or two from those women… heard those foreign whores can…”

Phillip’s voice trailed off into heavy snores. There was what sounded like a heavy kick into a mass of flesh, but the snores continued unabated.

“Osmanna?”

Pega’s outline suddenly filled the window, blocking out the white. Only someone as tall as she could reach it. In the darkness I couldn’t make out her expression, but I could smell his sweat on her. I crouched against the wall. I couldn’t bear her taunting, not now.

“Osmanna!” The whisper was more urgent this time. “Osmanna, I know you’re awake. Stand up where I can see you.”

“Won’t there be time enough to mock me tomorrow?” I said bitterly. “Why must you come tonight? I’ve no doubt you’re going to watch me burn. That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it, revenge on my family?”

“Osmanna, listen to me, I-”

“I’ve already heard you, Pega. Do you creep out to whore every night? Or did you find it amusing to do it outside my window and force me to listen? So you’ve had your fun; now for pity’s sake go and leave me alone.”

“Listen to me, you sour-faced little cat,” Pega snapped. “No one from the beguinage can get near this place. Tutor Martha, the others, they tried. The only way I could do it was to fuck that bastard Phillip to get him off guard. You can’t just walk up to a man and give him drugged wine. He’d have known something was up. There are ways of dealing with a man, which you’d know if you’d ever had to survive in the world for yourself, m’lady.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful that you sacrificed your virtue just to speak to me? It didn’t sound much of an effort from here. Don’t tell me they’ve sent you as my confessor?”

“Nobody sends me anywhere,” Pega retorted. “I came ’cause I’d a mind to, though God alone knows why I bothered. You are the most stubborn, stuck-up vixen that ever drew breath. Anyone who offers you their hand in friendship gets their whole arm bitten off.”

“So why don’t you go and leave me alone?”

“’Cause I’m as stubborn as you are. I heard about the way you faced down old D’Acaster. Though how he ever came to spawn a salty brat like you is a mystery only your mam can answer. For all my talk, I’d not have the stomach to see this through, not to that end. You’ve the faith to equal any saint. I wish I’d a gill of it.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Pega.” I said softly. “It’s not faith. It’s hatred.”

“Is it now? Aye, well that I can understand. I’ve seen hatred drive many a man to face the kind of death that would make faith shrivel in its tracks. Do you hate your father that much? It seems we’ve something in common after all.”

I rushed towards the window and tried to reach up to her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to feel a warm human hand in mine. “I’m scared, Pega. I am so frightened. You cannot begin to know how much. I can’t face it… haven’t the strength… Help me, Pega, please help me!”

I tried not to cry, but the tears were forcing their way out. A rough hand pressed down on mine, solid and warm as if Pega had the strength to pull me through the tiny space and out into freedom. I clung to her hand like a lost child, wanting her never to let me go, as if she could keep me from all the terrors of this life and the next.

“Pega,” I pleaded, “give me something sharp, your knife or a piece of broken flagon, anything so that I can kill myself before morning. I can’t face the flames, Pega. I can’t do it.”

“You think I came here to help you kill yourself? I’ve thieved, lied, and fornicated for you this night, lass. You think I’m about to add murder to the list?”

“It wouldn’t be murder, if I did it. Pega. Please help me. Please, I beg you. Don’t let them burn me, Pega, please.”

“Course I’m not going to let them burn you, lass. What do you think I’m here for? But we have to hurry. Your cousin’s snoring away like an old boar now, but I don’t want to be around when he wakes up. The pig’ll have a head like a swarm of hornets when he does and serves the bastard right.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Get you out of here, of course; what did you think I came for? The Commissarius kept the key himself, he’d not entrust it even to Phillip. So we’ll have to take you out through the roof, lass. It’s only thatch.”

“But I can’t reach it.”

“No, but I can. They didn’t call me the Ulewic Giant for nothing. I’ve a rope I can use to haul you up once I’ve made a hole. Someone must have been praying some pretty powerful prayers for you, lass-this sea-mist is sent from Heaven. It’ll cover us while I work and our tracks while we make off.”

Her face vanished from the window and I heard the sound of the reeds being torn away above my head. Gradually a bright white patch began to glimmer through the dark roof.

“But we can’t go back to the beguinage, Pega. They’ll come looking for me there and for you too. Phillip’s bound to tell them what you did.”

“Phillip’ll never admit he let himself be tricked by a whore. But he’ll come looking for me, make no mistake, and I’ve no intention of being around when he does. No, lass-you and I are going to have to disappear. Boat to France, then who knows where? I’ve a hankering to see more than this poxy village before I die. We might not make it, and if they catch us, we’ll likely burn together. But they’ll have to catch us first and we’ll give them a run for their money. What say you, Osmanna: You willing to take a chance? You and me together, lass. I reckon with your learning and my brawn, together we could take on the world.”