“Now I sleep with Frey. He embraces me while sleeping, or I sleep with his cock in my mouth, or he doesn’t leave me after the violence. I’ve heard Tristakinnia uttering to him he spends more time with the slave, than with her or his friends. What a strange passion owns Frey what a strange desire to humiliate and subordinate another person that he is keen on this occupation instead of communication with the darling one. We are, really, almost not separating with Frey, he takes me everywhere with him. Now I don’t freeze outside, the owner gave me a fur cape, white, warm and soft, long, only very rich women wear such. I’ve seen some wives and mistresses of Vikings looking at me with envy and rage. My feet which are covered with wounds by stones are now protected from cold and sharp stones with soft furs, now. I still can’t run away, but, at least, my feet are protected. He hasn’t become kinder to me, I am on the position of a woman at him, not a dog. I do not know, what is worse.”
The last roll in a casket was completely written on Larabavian. Eyshan having buried in a roll was crying, asking Elokh for a punishment. Asked him to give oblivion to Iskander so that he would open his heart to her. The beauty began to read the last roll.
“Everything ended. Frey went to a campaign with the Vikings. He told servants not to touch me, not to force to work, allow me to read and write, to feed me. I could sleep in his room, on his bed. Oddly I felt loneliness as if already had got used to the situation. Do I really miss this beast? I was terrified by this thought.
I decided to run away. Now it was the right time. And if they catch me – I will fight desperately. To hope that Tristakinnia will be mine? This is so silly, not in my situation. I belong to Frey. How cold the autumn wind here. But its whiff relieves the aching pain, somewhere deep in my heart, probably, it aches the brand.
I was sitting in the yard, on a bench. Servants were scurrying around me, nobody paid attention to me, I wanted to help them to drag the baskets with the harvest, but the inspector grinned and told that the master had told not to trouble the concubine -slave.
“Iska?” – I heard. The gently beloved voice. I turn. She. So close. Tristakinnia looks at me attentively and sadly. At me, at the expensive cape I wore, and with a mute question looks at my eyes. I didn’t know what to tell her.
Tristakinnia gives a hand and gently runs fingers over the scar on my face. I fade.
“Tristakinnia …” — I exhale. She shudders, but doesn’t start back. And I … I have nothing to lose. I ain’t going to show this roll to Frey. I press her to me.
It was my last record written in the north. I wrote it when sailed home. Tristakinnia helped me to escape, gave money, gave my rolls which had found at Frey. “You don’t deserve such life. I will help you to leave home. And I will stay with Frey. Be happy, Iska.” I invited her with me, but she told me she belonged to Frey.
I came back home, to the family which hadn’t hoped to see me alive. Now I am married and I have a son.
I don’t believe that our lives are predetermined, however, I want to see sense in everything and if I cannot change the past, then I have to learn the lesson from it. Perhaps, my lesson was to endure it and to become stronger, to learn to appreciate the life and other people. I want to hope for it.”
Eyshan burst out crying, her heart was breaking off, from the pain for Iskander, with jealousy to the silly worthless northerner which her father had brought into the world not for nothing, she helped her husband to run away. Then she knew all secrets and Iskander's nightmares, it was painful, how he could carry so many years such torture alone? Eyshan bitterly cried, having buried in the last roll. What could she give him? Why was she worse than that silly northerner?
Iskander entered the office. One second was enough to understand why Eyshan was sobbing. The sheikh was terrified. It never came to his mind that someone could begin to look for and find these rolls. He should have burned them long ago. Iskander approached. Eyshan embraced a leg of the husband.
“Forgive me, darling, forgive me!” she asked, sobbing, without letting go the last roll.
“Silly woman”, — Iskander quickly collected rolls in the casket, pulled out a piece of parchment from her hands, – “Why are you sobbing over these fairy tales?”
Eyshan hearing the beloved voice sobbed more and stronger.
“You are the very best”, — howled the beauty.
The man sat down on a chair, attracted the wife, having seated her to his knees. The coarsened heart trembled from the female tears. Eyshan twisted his neck with the hands, and now was crying to his shoulder.
“Well, well, nothing terrible happened,” –Iskander was trying to console her.
Eyshan was kissing his shoulders under a white shirt, the neck, the hands. The woman looked like a dog devoted, servilely loyal.
“Well, well, Eyshan, all this is a lie, just the man … who captivated me for some reason liked to read such stories. He forced me to compose them and to mix with what was in actual life. All this is a lie.
Eyshan began to cry more bitterly, not believing.
“Ouch, woman, don’t drive me crazy!” Iskander spoke with disappointment, but the wife couldn’t calm down.
“How the Earth carries such a monster? Let him burn in hell!” – she cried.
Iskander sighed.
“Oh, what was done with captured northerners in the capital, even more terrible.”
“Nobody breaks will. Even to miscreants. I know.” – Eyshan sobbed.
“Of course, they do, this is a war. And captivity, it is always terrible.” – Iskander would have never thought he would protect Frey.
“Not like this! I heard, I know, everything is not like this!” –Eyshan shook her head, – “My family was cut out by the northerners, trying to return Enefeya. The father hid her, though died himself … he was tortured too, but it’s not that, all this isn’t like that. I saw the horrors of war, I was involved in it! But it’s not that! He … didn’t need anything from you, no secrets, no conditions, he did it for nothing! He had nothing to revenge you for. Did he torment someone else like this? I love you, Iskander, I will make anything for you to be happy. You are the most worthy son of Elokh! And this savage – is Iblis itself! Let Elokh send him where he belongs to – to hell!”
Iskander kissed Eyshan on a temple. Women should not see wars, that’s not their stuff to be involved in.
“Elokh works in mysterious ways, Elokh sends us tests, and we have to …”
Eyshan covered the husband's lips with hers. She didn’t want to hear about who allowed such injustice. Iskander answered to the kiss, discharged from the wife.
“Go to the bedroom, and I will come sooner then you lie down to the bed.”
Eyshan glanced in the animal gold eyes of the husband, kissed them, and obediently went to the bedroom.
The sheikh went to the yard where the fireplace was constantly burning, poured the rolls to the fire. It was strange to burn the past he kept not to forget. But nobody had to read them, and now it was like burning the last thin thread connecting him and Frey, him and Tristakinnia. As if burning a fragile hope to see her one day. Iskander annoyedly frowned, such a shame was written there it shouldn’t be kept, and Eyshan read it, he should have burned those rolls even then. No way the past would influence his life. The man watched the rolls burned down completely and went to the bedroom where Eyshan was waiting for him.
Comments (0)
See all