The TwiceBorn

To Place Your Lips On The Soul Of This World

"I would like to paint my body red and go into the glittering snow to die."--Mary Oliver

   “I will fix this. “  Islinn had said, her voice calm and sure.  Those four simple words assumed a monumental responsibility and promised the impossible.  JoHan had stepped forward and rested a taut hand on Islinn’s shoulder.  His voice was low.

“Islinn…don’t fill this poor woman with false hope.  Clarify what it is you promise.”

“I can’t.  Because I don’t know.”  She’d looked up into his face and her brown eyes were soft  and pure in the yellowed flickering candlelight of the filthy room. 

               She’d glanced down at the bundle in her arms and gently moved aside the dirty wrap that covered its face.  JoHan had had to look away.  One side of the tiny infant’s face was nothing but a red smear with bits of skull embedded like flecks of sand.  JoHan’s stomach had done a lazy roll but Islinn hadn’t flinched.

  She’d pressed her lips to what was left of the child’s face and the kiss lingered like one bestowed upon a lover. JoHan had been frightened.   The smeared wall, the flickering candlelight casting shadows, the animal-like whimpering of the whore in the corner, all of it combined together to tell him that he was descending into madness. 

 It was all around him, black pools of insanity and he knew that what Islinn had promised was nothing but a knock at the devil’s door.  He reached out to pull her to her feet and tell her that he was going to bury the child and they were going to leave but she ignored him.  She cradled the child in one arm and reached out her other hand to  grasp the whore’s forearm.

“Come with me.”  Islinn’s voice was firm and the whore nodded, her blank eyes fixed on the child that the girl held in her arms.

“I will bear outside.”  Islinn stated and got to her feet.  JoHan had turned  to where his back was to the growing crowd of whores and patrons clustered in the room.

“What are you doing?”  He’d whispered frantically.  “This is madness.  She’s nothing but a murdering whore.  We can commit her whelp to the ground and bear the sin of his bastard birth but there’s no hope for her. “  JoHan drew in a ragged breath.  Islinn calmly gazed at him and was silent.

  “I know you don’t understand," He'd explained. "She’s a whore,Islinn.  Brede cursed her with this child for her ways.  She could have redeemed herself if she had kept the child and raised it. But she murdered it so now Brede has punished her with madness.  You cannot override Brede and bear for her.  You cannot “fix” this.”

Islinn gave him a taut smile.

“I will bear the sin of both. Grant me shrift, Domyni.”

JoHan shook his head helplessly.  The Innkeeper had come over and had eyed the both of them.

“Well? You gonna help or not?”

JoHan opened his mouth to, once again, say it was impossible but Islinn overrode him.

“Yes. We’re going to help.  Grant me shrift, Domyni.” She’d repeated and JoHan had.  Brede have mercy on his soul, but he had. 

They had all trooped out into the blinding sunlight, Islinn carrying the child with the whore traipsing anxiously along behind. His children had been ominously quiet and JoHan had seen a few of them hiding away tears.  Because they knew.   All of them knew but Islinn. He was about to sacrifice one of Brede’s chosen because she was too foolish and too eager to recognize what was Brede’s final decree.  JoHan swallowed back his own tears.  Brede was a hard god to serve and the lessons were always cruel.