The Tower: Part 6: Ostara
Post #56: In which disillusionment ...
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Persephone’s hair was smooth and free from stalks of hay. Clarissa set the comb aside, divided the hair into three sections and began braiding it.
“Did your first time hurt?” Persephone asked casually.
“Yes, a bit. I sort of expected that part, though.”
“It was different than you thought it would be in other ways?”
“I thought it would be gentler and more fun. Touching and laughing together. Exploring.”
“Tenderness?”
“Yes, that’s it. Tenderness and … unhurried. And then we’d lie together and sleep.”
“That’s not how it was?”
“Is it ever like that?”
“Oh, yes. Often.”
“But not always?”
“Don’t forget I’ve only lain with Hades. But I’ve heard hundreds and hundreds of people talk about lovers and loving, and many say the hours they spent in physical intimacy were the happiest in their lives. Others search all their days for someone to love and be with in the same way you imagine, but they never find the right person.”
“My mother says desire is wrong; passion is dangerous and unattractive. She says decent men don’t like women like that. She says there are rules about decency and appropriate behavior and sex should only happen between married people in total privacy and never be discussed.”
“Many would agree with her, but many would disagree as well. I think we must decide for ourselves how we express our sexuality. Some men want passionate, expressive women, and many don’t find sex shameful at all. Quite the reverse. Without sexual union, life is not possible. Baubo teaches that sex and sexuality are sacred.”
“That’s how the merfolk talk about it.”
“Are you more comfortable with you father’s philosophy or your mother’s?”
“My father’s, but …”
“Here, let’s switch places. Where’s the comb?”
Clarissa had rinsed the salt from her hair at Rowan Gate before finding Persephone. Now it was half-dry and tangled, but not stiff with salt, and Persephone gently began working the comb through the knots.
“Persephone?”
“Mm hm?”
“I think maybe I’m not good at it.”
“Not good at sex?”
Wordlessly, Clarissa nodded.
“What makes you think that, sweetheart?”
“I didn’t … He didn’t …”
“Did he climax?”
“Yes. I felt him do that. But then he sort of collapsed, and then he fell asleep for a minute, and then he seemed angry, as though he hadn’t wanted to make love at all.”
“I don’t suppose you forced him?” Persephone sounded unconcerned and slightly amused. Clarissa relaxed fractionally.
“No. I … he pulled me down. I thought he wanted to. I wanted to.”
“Clarissa, men are different than women, aside from the obvious differences, I mean. They nearly always collapse and often fall asleep after sex. It doesn’t mean they felt no pleasure or the woman’s no good. Every woman in the world has lain crushed under a dozing man after sex, believe me!” She giggled. “Hades does it all the time, the brute. He’s huge. I can’t breathe with him on top of me.”
“So it was all right for him, you think?”
“It sounds to me like it was. He didn’t reassure you?”
“There wasn’t time for talking. He had to leave.”
“Was there time for your pleasure?”
“At first, when I touched him and he touched me it was so exciting and I wanted him so much. But then it happened very fast and when it was over, he rolled off me and left.” Clarissa finished in a tight voice.
“I see. There, you’re combed and braided too. Thank you for helping me. Have you eaten any breakfast?”
“No.”
“I think we should go see Maria and Ginger and get some breakfast. Maria makes an herb tea I’d like you to try – see what you think. Will you come with me?” She stood up, shook out her clothes and held out her hand. “Toss that comb on the blanket so I don’t lose it.”
They went out into the sunshine. Clarissa smelled meat cooking. Someone forked manure out of an animal shed. A woman left the root cellar with a basket heaped high with vegetables. The door to the community kitchen stood open and people came and went. Clarissa wondered if anyone had missed the rag rug. She saw no sign of activity at David’s house.
They found Maria and Ginger sitting in the sun drinking tea.
“Good morning,” Persephone called cheerfully as they came along the path. “We’ve come to beg for breakfast. I told Clarissa you make a special morning blend of tea she should try, Maria.” Their eyes met.
“I’ll go heat some more water,” said Ginger.
Clarissa sat in the sun, sipping her second cup of the strange tea, which tasted of herbs and sun and green growth. Its flavor was quite pleasant, though odd. Maria had added a spoonful of honey.
She hadn’t felt hungry, but when Ginger handed her a plate of eggs and ham, she ate with alacrity, mopping up the plate with a thick slice of buttered bread.
Warm, comfortable and with a full belly, she grew sleepy. Some people were so comforting to be around. Ginger, Maria and Persephone talked and laughed together, discussing the doings of Rowan Tree and plans for the day. She wasn’t excluded, but she wasn’t required to make a contribution, either. Her father had been like that, happy to talk, or tell a story, or listen, but equally content to sit and watch the fire without speaking at all. Somehow, his silence was even more intimate than his words.
Her mother, on the other hand, was not restful company. She appeared to feel silence was rude, and her constant stream of chatter was censorious and critical. She didn’t share her thoughts and feelings. She shared her rules and limitations. Clarissa left her feeling irritated, defensive and tense.
She dozed, letting the empty cup tilt against her leg.
HEKS
Clarissa had not come home, though Heks lay awake for some time after leaving Maria, Ginger, Persephone, Ash and Beatrice. It was nearly dawn when she finally slept. She hadn’t expected Persephone, who was quite happy sleeping in the hay shed, but she worried about Clarissa. Perhaps she’d simply chosen to spend the night in the sea. But she couldn’t forget the way Seren had smiled at Clarissa during the performance when she brought him water, and Clarissa’s joyous response. She loved him, heart and soul, and Heks doubted he loved her in return. He would always love himself far more than anyone else.
She rose later than usual and set out for Maria and Ginger’s house to see if they knew anything about Clarissa.
She found them sitting in the sun together, Persephone, Clarissa, Ginger and Maria. Clarissa dozed, a cup slipping from her grasp. She looked pale.
As Heks approached, Maria put a warning finger to her lips. Heks raised an inquiring eyebrow and Maria shook her head. Persephone’s mouth made a grim line and her sea-blue eyes looked cold.
Ginger pulled up another chair, Maria poured Heks a cup of tea, and Maria asked, “What are you up to today?”
Heks accepted the chair, tea, and casual opening.
“I want to talk more with Ash and Beatrice.” She looked at Persephone and Ginger. “What do you think we need to do to get ready?”
“Ash says Pele loves bright colors and finery,” said Ginger. “I’m going through my dancing clothes and jewelry, looking for things she might like. Persephone will bring her drums.”
“I thought I’d ask Ash and Beatrice to take word to Hades,” said Persephone. “They can tell him about our plans and also fill him in about the rumors in Dvorgdom, find out if he’s heard anything from the dead Dvorgs and Dwarves who have gone through Hades. If Hades speaks to Poseidon he can pass on the news about Pele and Rumpelstiltskin.”
“I want to go up and talk to Rosie today,” said Maria. “She and Artemis will want to know what’s happening, and I want to be sure she passed a quiet night. We should let Eurydice know to expect traffic through Rowan Gate as well.
Clarissa stirred. “Did you say Ash and Beatrice? Oh, hello, Heks.” She rubbed her eyes, which looked red and sore. “Sorry. I must have dozed off.”
“Ash and Beatrice are roosting at Heks’s,” said Maria. “They arrived last night. Do you know them?”
“Yes. I met them at the lighthouse with Rapunzel. Can I see them?” She asked Heks.
“They’re sleeping now, but you can see them tonight.”
“Good. How are they? Why are they here?”
Ginger explained.
Clarissa yawned as she listened. “It reminds me of us going to Sedna,” she said, “except we nearly froze to death instead of being too hot!” She yawned again. “I’m sorry. I think I need a nap.”
“Go back to my house,” said Heks. It’ll be quiet there. Sleep as long as you like.”
“Thanks for breakfast,” Clarissa said to Maria and Ginger. “And the tea. It was good. I’ll see you later.”
She disappeared around a corner on her way back to Heks’s house, weariness in every step.
When she was well away, Heks demanded, “What’s going on? She didn’t come home last night.”
“That’s because she lost her virginity to Seren last night, who took his pleasure with no thought for her and left her thinking she’s no good at sex. She spent the night alone in the sea, crying. She came to me early this morning to talk. I brought her here for breakfast and Maria’s tea, so she won’t find herself pregnant, on top of everything else.” Persephone sounded clipped and curt.
“Poor thing,” said Ginger. “I wondered. She looked so pale.”
“It’s a good thing Rapunzel’s not here,” said Heks.
“What can we do?” asked Maria. “It was inevitable it would come to this. Maybe it’s best to say nothing and be available in case she wants to talk. He didn’t hurt her otherwise? Physically, I mean?”
“No,” said Persephone. “She’s devastated emotionally, but physically she’s not even sore anymore. She was excited and wanted him, so that helped. She said it was fast, and then he collapsed on top of her and slept a few minutes, and then he rolled off and left.”
“Ugh,” said Maria. “Not very romantic.”
“No wonder she feels humiliated,” said Ginger.
“Maybe she’ll be less enamored now,” said Heks. “Maybe she’ll decide he’s not so wonderful.”
“Or maybe it will make it worse,” said Maria. ‘She’s young. It might give her more reason to try to please him.”
“I suggest we do nothing and see what happens,” said Heks. “Let’s let her sleep. We’ll go about our business and keep an eye on her today. Maria might be right. The best thing might be to stay out of it and be available if she wants to talk. She’s strong, and she’s smart. It’s better to let her figure things out for herself.”
Clarissa slept until early afternoon. Persephone invited her to come with her to speak to Rose Red, Artemis and Eurydice, and Heks felt relieved when Clarissa accepted. Heks had seen no sign of Seren, but she’d heard he planned another program for the next evening. He was certainly making the most of this opportunity to show off, Heks reflected sourly. She would have liked to keep news of the second program secret from Clarissa and thus prevent her going, but she knew it was impossible.
She herself felt no desire to spend another evening being “entertained” by the young poet, but neither was she willing to ignore what daily became a more disturbing situation.
Clarissa did not return to Rowan Tree until evening. She and Persephone had eaten with Rose Red, Eurydice, Artemis and Gwelda, and Clarissa walked Persephone down to her hay-filled sleeping quarters before coming to Heks’s house through the dusk.
Heks was glad to see color in her face. Ash and Beatrice had gone hunting. They had agreed to meet the others at Maria’s house later that evening. Clarissa didn’t want to join them. She was tired and ready for bed. After a few minutes of talk, she lay down and fell asleep within minutes.
Heks blew out the lamp and left the door ajar so the cool spring night could enter. She had not told Clarissa about Seren’s second performance. She felt certain Seren would not seek Clarissa out. It was for others to chase him. For this night, at least, Clarissa could rest undisturbed.
***
Seren’s second performance unfolded much like the first had, only this time he had a glass of water. As far as Heks could tell, every soul in Rowan Tree attended. Ginger and Rose Red had once again been invited to sit in the front row. Heks suspected the most beautiful women in every audience were invited to sit in the front row. Clarissa joined them, but on this night, she didn’t watch Seren with starry eyes. She looked down into her lap. Persephone sat beside her.
Ash hung invisibly from the rafters near the fireplace, Beatrice nestled in his fur. They had insisted on being present.
Seren played an old ballad, starting softly and slowly and gradually increasing in rhythm and volume as people quieted. When he finished the ballad, he set aside his lyre.
“Tonight, I’ll share the story of Beauty and the Beast, a tale you’re familiar with – or you think you are. I tell a different version than you’ve heard before, and I think you’ll agree it’s a truer version. It’s the story of Beauty exhausted, Beauty consumed and ravaged by those who cannot appreciate or properly nurture it.”
He paced before them, his boots shining, his embroidered cloak swirling gracefully around his well-shaped legs. Golden lamplight caressed his fair hair.
“Once upon a time, before the shining stars learned to sing enchantments, the Gods gave a young man to the world, and his were the gifts of beauty, music, song, story and poetry. As a mark of heavenly favor, a dazzling white light shone around his head, as though he’d been blessed by a star.
Sadly, the world failed to appreciate the Gods’ gift. The young man was raised among common people, coarse and ignorant, unable to recognize his talent. In their company, he even lost some of his luster and might have become ordinary in his looks, had he been less handsome.
In time, he realized his gifts and entered the wide world to seek his fortune and his rightful place.
He soon realized the world was a hard, harsh place, filled with ugliness, cruelty and greed. Bravely, he shared his stories, poetry and songs, attempting to bring some hope and healing to the people. He traveled many weary miles and labored long hours, practicing his skills.
Gradually, his fame spread and he attained both respect and renown. However, greatness and recognition brought with them darker burdens. Seduced by his beauty and stunned by his talent, every woman and many men exhausted him with their adoration and attentions. Some viewed him as a mentor and importuned him to use his influence to further their own pathetic attempts at music and story. Others begged him to stay and teach what he knew.
The young poet’s delicate creative sensitivity suffered from unwanted attention and demand. His gift was too precious to be handled with such carelessness.”
Seren picked up his lyre and paused, strumming, allowing the liquid sound to move among the audience, soothing, seductive, gently sorrowing. He smiled sadly to himself and shook his head. Heks wanted to slap the smug expression right off his face.
“One day, thieves set upon the young man. He escaped them, leaving behind his possessions and having been robbed of his money, and wandered in the wilderness until he reached a tower. A girl lived in the tower with her father, a strange girl with eyes like the color of the dawn sea and hair like seaweed. Her father was a sorcerer who stole words from others and called them his own. The girl cared for the poet while he recovered from his ordeal. He pitied her odd looks and childish innocence, and he was appalled by her attempts to share the sorcerer’s debased stories and poetry with him.
Inevitably, she fell in love with him and imagined he returned her feelings. He grew more and more uncomfortable, quite restored in health and strength but unwilling to leave the poor thing alone with the sorcerer in so remote and wild a circumstance.
Gently, he rebuffed her clumsy advances, but she persisted, feeding off his creativity (for he must needs continue to practice his art) like a parasite, and he felt worn out with guarding his material from the sorcerer.
One day he discovered, with horror, she was less than human. He observed her leaving the tower and making her way to the sea’s edge, where she dove in, slapping the water with a thick, ugly tail.
He knew then he’d been enchanted and imprisoned by jealous, magical means. The girl was a beast, and perhaps the sorcerer, too. He feared for his life. Did these succubi propose to steal every drop of his talent, his beauty and his very essence?
The young man redoubled his efforts to leave the tower prison. Exhausted with the need to constantly protect himself, he fell into a deep sleep the night before he was determined to leave and woke to find the girl wound about him, her hair like tentacles, her strange silver eyes glowing in the dark. Her flesh was young and firm, her touch insistent, and though he pled for release from her unwanted embrace, she overpowered him with the magic narcotic of her flesh and took her pleasure, though he felt none.
The audience murmured sympathetically. Someone groaned aloud. Black rage rose in Heks. The taste of her dead husband’s barbecued flesh came into her mouth, and she heard again in memory Baba Yaga’s harsh shrieking. She controlled her expression and sat still, but she promised herself Seren would pay for this.
Sated, the beast slept, and the beautiful young man, weak, trembling and depleted, dressed himself and fled the tower. For many days and miles, he traveled only at night, fearful and hag-ridden, moving inland in the hope the beast could not long leave the sea.
As the days passed with no sign of pursuit he began breathing freely again, and gradually resumed some of his strength. In time, his belongings were retrieved from the thieves who had stolen from him and returned, including his lyre. He forgave the beast for its lust. It was only natural such a one would long for beauty. He resigned himself to the unwelcome pursuit of those hungry for his gifts, his attention and his art. As his skill matured, so did his courage and allure. As a final act of healing, he made a story, so others might be warned of the perils of Beauty and the Beast!”