Reprisals

Kelantha

There was a stirring of unease as I watched them, quiet in their conversation, one a stoic figure in black whose thoughts were concealed from me even as he cast me a lingering glance; the other in his noble robes of the church, purity in the midst of mortal darkness. The woman that clung to me, and made known her utter bereavement at the death of the man who had so consumed her, meant nothing, was but a lingering fa�ade upon my arm, a hungry cry into my ear, a whisper against the contours of my impressive form. I could read the intentions in their eyes if not their lips, as they spoke in grieved council, and knew even before my husband arose in the manner that so well suited him, of domestic importance, that it was infinitely serious.

�� there was no call to do him any harm,� sobbed the widow upon my shoulder; the woman I had once called friend and now felt no compassion toward. Her mockery of me, the rubbing of salt in the wound, the marriage to a former lover of mine, had eroded all motherly feelings I might have held for her sorrow.

�Do they know what happened to him?� I heard from another corner of the room, where scandalized locals stood in a tight little group. The woman fluttered her fan anxiously, disrupting the sensible array of curls gathered about her high neckline, and all looked at my father in anticipation, for he seemed the unspoken voice of authority.

�He was found upon the church steps,� came his voice quietly, and looked my way. I was not gazing at him, but suddenly comforting the woman by my side. �Doctors say he lost a great deal of blood. It is a mystery.�

�It is the work of the devil,� said the stout little priest whom I had come to hold in contempt, and this time there was no mistaking the accusation that was shot my way, for it was accompanied with such a look of distrust that I might have been insulted by it, was I not proud of my accomplishment. �Satan himself walks among us, pronouncing judgment upon those who do not honor the laws of heaven.�

�Come now,� came a soft voice in reprimand, and the Bishop glided in among them, a tall, imposing individual that immediately cowed wagging tongues. Silver-haired and kind of feature, the man that I had once beheld as a mentor and guardian even now came to my rescue. �Such superstitions are beneath you, my brother. There is no judgment, from God at least. He has long ceased punishment but is instead a God of mercy. We must trust in a divine purpose behind such suffering, that it one day might bring us understanding.�

Graciela lifted her head from my shoulder, drew the damp handkerchief down so that she might speak, and shot out, in a surprisingly strong voice for one so �mortally shaken,� �How dare you say such a thing! There is no �divine� purpose in death, except in bereavement. God has been unjust, in taking that which I held above all others from me! You are cold to say such things! You have no right to judge, or to speak of my husband as though it were merely unfortunate! Nor may you speak of God in such charitable terms in this, my darkest hour.�

Though we had long been parted, and would never meet in the echoing halls of eternity, this assault upon the archbishop was as vile to my ears as any insult to the noble house from whence I came. I had remained silent throughout the funeral and much of the proceedings; indeed, people had wondered, by the harshness of my appearance, if I were not ill, but now words came with a ferocity that astounded even I.

�Perhaps it is a judgment,� I said, and all gazed upon me in astonishment. �It is not polite to speak ill of the dead, but we all know what kind of a man Juan was. I am sorry to say such things before his widow, but he is not worth tears. May the ground close upon him, the gates of hell open to welcome him, and his name never be spoken again.�

Everyone gaped at me in horror. Even the Bishop was taken aback, for never had I been so brutally outspoken. My mother was aghast, her pale hands clutched against red lips in a face that had suddenly gone white. No one quite knew what to say, not even Graciela at my side. She drew back as if bitten, for the first time wholly speechless. The only spot of contrast amidst the room was the white handkerchief clutched in one of my slender hands, stark against the rippling black of my gown as I left the gathering of horrified mourners and followed my husband into the cooler regions of the house.

He was watching the children play in the courtyard; his shadow melted into cold marble as he lingered in the shadows, one spidery hand resting against the stonework, his eyes following their movements with a hunger that I am convinced was not purely carnal. I had never given thought to his utter solace before now, to the many hundreds of years spent alone in the castle, with his immortality and inventions; that my coming might have been a breath of fresh air to a long-closed crypt that encased his soul; that he might have been lonely, that he too longed for the echo of children�s voices in his household.

The thought came upon me so suddenly, and was of such mighty depth, that I paused in the arches behind him and observed. He sensed my presence but did not take notice of it for a time, not until he quietly observed, �Madrid tires of our visitation. It is not prepared for the might of your newfound strength, nor the deep shadows that tremble in our wake. Its streets are filled with corruption of a kind that man may endure, but they shun our way of life, our purpose in existence. I tire of its unceasing mockery. We will depart in a few days� time, and let the city burn to the ground in our wake, with the rampant destruction of everything it holds dear.�

I could see by his stance that he was troubled, by the way that his hand gripped the stonework with digging fingernails, the determined slump of his form. It straightened as I drew nearer, responding to the gentle caress of my hand against his arm. This brought a glance from him, a searching appraisal of my timeless features that caused a softening of his countenance; then his eyes once more strayed to the children, shouting with laughter as they chased one another across the sunlit tiles.

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