Sweet Satisfaction (Purple UGC Winner 2014)

Sweet Satisfaction - Fifty-Two

Fifty-Two

And so my life commenced as the flaxen-haired girl, the Queen of Reaurez, with crowns of daises on my head, and a dagger and bow and arrow by bed. Rain took me out shooting targets every day. I kept wondering if this was preparation for the danger I was in and would stare wistfully at the minute dot of John and I’s villa.

I developed a strange kind of longing for him and normality, as at the village, I had been smoking and drinking and dancing and shrieking like a halfpenny Whitechapel whore wearing simple shifts and my hair as free as a maids.

Sometimes, I would escape from the pressures of being their ‘Queen’, and go down to the river, weaving my feet across the stepping stones. I would dip them in the refreshing coolness, wavy hair flying, bow arched proudly, pretending I was some kind of Greek goddess or warrior, ready to face the future.

*****

I had been staying in the village for almost a week, was quite tired of receiving compliments and being ‘a most honoured guest’,  when Elizabeth told me a most terrible thing.

We were sitting around the campfire, enjoying supper, and she was going around the circle, telling me stories about everyone. I liked her dearly, but she was a real gossip and spoke all three of her languages in nearly every passage, in a bewildering passage.

“Y Ludmilla. Ella es jamoborodüka. Exiled from her familia for…” (And Ludmilla. She is evil. Exiled from her family for…) Elizabeth lowered her head and voice, eyes darting around.

“Magübukü!” I stared at her blankly.

“Murder!”

“What?” I gasped, eyes wide, jumping back, cold waves passing over my body.

“A chico pequeño Ingles-” Maria G offered us another bottle of rum, and I snatched four out of her arms, gulping down the foul liquid faster and faster until my lips were stinging and I felt dizzy.

The fiddler’s tines throbbed in my ears, and I closed my eyes from the glare of the campfire, feeling nauseous.

“Flaxa?”

“Elsie?”

“Mi reina?” (My queen?)

“Go away” I murmured, choking on a sob, “GO AWAY!” I put my hands over my ears, and buried my face in my knees. Everything was hurting, especially my heart. Not even the strong sickly taste of alcohol could make me forget what Elizabeth had just told me, in Spanish, which I perfectly understood despite only hearing it for a week. Ludmilla, my nanny, had murdered Benjamin, my brother, my twin, the other half of me, the missing part of me, and she had lied to me, and told me it was Natalya, my own cousin.

A chico pequeño Ingles. A small English boy.

*****

I woke the next morning in Katchatchawen’s tent, my eyelids seemingly weighing fifty tonnes. The choking smell of overpowering perfume caused me to roll over and gag, my bones aching, my body feeling unwashed. Greasy curls of hair caught in my lashes as I stared at Ludmilla’s upside-down face.

A sudden sense of urgency overpowered me, but I couldn’t think why; it made my breathing become faster and face crease up, body stuff. Think Elsie, think!

“I see you are awake now.” I nodded, mute, clutching myself suddenly as if I had been stung my her unfeeling, cold, pupils. I sat up, seeing Katchatchawen, chief of the village, sitting on a tall wooden chair, stroking a sceptre, a woven crown of leaves and twigs atop his head. He looked much more imposing than before, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Elizabeth, the two Marias and Rain were sitting cross-legged, heads bowed, along the side of the tent.

“What’s happened?” I asked, my voice sounding croaky.

“Rise. My Chabilla.” Feeling and probably looking bewildered, I got up on shaky legs.

“You have dishonoured us.” I inclined my head, not understanding.

“You, your friends, and my niece have behaved inappropriately.” I let his words sink in, eyebrows twitching.

“Does that mean I’m going back to John?” I tried, at the same time trying to figure out exactly what he was implying, and how our behaviour had been ‘inappropriate’.

“Oh yes, back to uncontaminated water, grand sleeping conditions, and such a wide range of breakfast dishes fit for twenty.”

I stared at Maria M; I had never imagined that they were jealous of the benefits in life, the things I took for granted. I thought they were happy sleeping in tents under the stars, eating rice out of tin pots? I swallowed, cheeks burning.

I looked up at Ludmilla and stepped back suddenly, blinking. My mouth was dry. Elizabeth’s words were echoing in my head. Slowly, I looked around the tent. Did they know what she had done? Why hadn’t it come back to me the moment I had woken up?

“Please,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady in my growing horror, as I stared at Ludmilla levelly, “I shall bring you back all the liberties that I have, if you wish to live in better contentment, as long as you tell me the truth about my brother’s death."