Blood Born

Chapter 5

5  Vigil

Alone in a dishevelled room of the great house sat a woman cross-legged and deep in meditation.  Around her on the floor were pillows and cushions.  Beside her was a small table with an incense burner.  Wisps of scented smoke drifted from it, filling the room with a heady miasma.  On the walls were cloths, stapled up and left to hang there in a mismatched array of colours and textures:  intricate prints, bright batiks, and kaleidoscopic tie-dyes.  There was no window to be seen and the only light was provided by dozens of votive candles.  

Over the woman's head was a crimson shawl, and only her full, red lips could be seen beneath it.  She wore a thin, semitransparent dress of white gauze.  Her small breasts could be seen, silhouetted against the candles behind her.  The insubstantial garment left little to the imagination of the man who watched her.

At the open door to her room, a tall, dark-skinned man admired lustfully the fullness of her hips in contrast to the slenderness of her waist and the overall aesthetic of her womanly form.  She was beautiful, but unattainable, he knew - not that she could possibly resist him had he wanted to force himself upon her.  The man was massively built.  He wore a rich, black silk kaftan decorated with gold thread in a complicated and exotic design.  His long, thick dreadlocks cascaded over his shoulders and down to his chest.  They hung like a primal statement of power:  proof of a lifetime of defiance of normal standards of appearance.  At his waist was a long, wide leather belt the end of which nearly hung to the floor.  He swayed it suggestively.

"It's too bad you're a priestess," he told her in a deep, gravelly voice.  "You'd breed well!"

"Shut up, Tomas!"  The woman murmured.  "It's close, and I don't need you to distract me.  Three days I've been at this.  Besides, you know I can't breed."

The big man shrugged.  "Doesn't mean we can't try.  Trueborn happen."

"I know," she sighed, "My master's one of them.  And he'll know if I don't remain chaste.  You want him breathing down your neck demanding a new acolyte?"

"Ha!"  Tomas laughed.  "I'm no virgin.  Hardly a suitable trade."

"Your call," the woman whispered, her lips slowly smiling, "But I'm sure he'd accept a eunuch into his service."

Another man approached, carrying a tarnished silver candelabrum.  The dark red candles were nearly half-gone, their sloppy residue spattered on the arms, base, and cups of the once-fine piece of silverware.  He was dressed in blue hospital scrubs.

"Ofælia wants to know if it's happened," he announced peering at the cowled woman on the floor but obviously speaking to the big man beside him.  His Scots accent had a lilt to it that he used quite mischievously.  "Nice tits!  We don't see them often enough, wouldn't ye say, Tomas?"  He chuckled.

The woman ignored his lewd comments and concentrated on her task.  Tomas turned to the much smaller man beside him.  "George, is she asleep?"  He asked, brushing away thoughts of castration.

"Who?  Ofælia?  I don't think she can sleep," George joked.  Tomas pursed his lips and slowly raised his hand.  "Aye, she's asleep, don't worry.  I'm only kiddin' wi' ye.  The bairn fussed a bit when I gave her a little prick in the arm, but she's all quiet now.  She has lots of good veins - there'll be no problems wi' her."

The priestess stirred and reached for the censer.  She moved it in circles before her.  The two men turned their attention her way once more.  Tomas laid a hand on George's shoulder, about a foot below the level of his own.

She continued this for about ten minutes and then abruptly, the priestess stopped and sighed.  Slowly she placed the incense burner down on a bare patch of parquet floor.  Her shoulders slumped and she groaned.

"That's it!"  She said, breathing heavily.  "He's done," she drawled, exhausted after her vigil.  "Tell Ofælia!"  Through the shawl she massaged her eyes, sighing deeply.  "Fuck!  I need sleep, now!  And if I find either of you giving me 'a little prick' while I'm out cold, there'll be hell to pay!"

The men laughed and slapped each other while the woman slowly and luxuriantly slumped backwards on her floor-full of cushions, not even bothering to remove the shawl from her face.  The men leered one last time at her body, then left her sprawled like a dropped doll and went to convey the news to their mistress.