by Aiden James
“If you stay long enough you will see what an abomination of a human being my daughter is. Don’t be fooled by appearances, she’s not what she appears be.”
By the look of things, she was nothing more than a peasant girl with little or no knowledge of the world away from the mountain. I doubted she ever went further than the goats bleating outside.
“Your daughter doesn’t seem to be in your favor, why is that?” I enquired, caring not for Isaac’s rhetoric.
“She’s not normal; sometimes she behaves like a mountain cat. I would say she belongs in the insane asylum. The only reason she’s not is because of my good nature and mercy.”
“I’d like to discuss why I’m here,” I replied, needing to direct the conversation toward my coins. I could feel the pull that had become familiar to me over time.
“If I were to, say, ‘bite off your ear’, would it hurt? I presume immortality means you can’t be maimed or killed,” he joked.
“Well, if you try to harm me, you will be sorry.” In no mood for his ridiculous comment, I wondered what kind of a man even thinks to bite off an ear. Strange, indeed.
It was expected for Dario to leave us. I knew in advance he had business matters needing attention and would return within a week. He’d arrange with Isaac to guide us back down if we left sooner.
“I trust you to be a respectful host and discuss with Emmanuel the problem at hand. Good negotiations always bring a positive result,” said Dario.
I was grateful for his helpful nature and told him so. Juan, on the other hand, embarrassed himself by falling asleep on account of the wine he had consumed. With Dario gone, I was left to deal with Isaac alone, who seemed determined to gain the upper hand.
“I have no intention to comment on Dario’s expertise in negotiations, if he has any. You can sleep here for the night.” Isaac pointed to a straw mattress on the floor. “It looks like Juan is unconscious in the chair, I’ll leave him.”
“You have coins belonging to me, paid in exchange for the betrayal of Jesus Christ. I have come to redeem them, since word has it you acquired two of them. I can only pay you a small sum, or perhaps another kind of reward would be agreeable to you?”
He didn’t respond, as the conversation was cut short by a violent scream that made me jump out of my skin. It was Rachel, standing by the window with blood dripping from her hands and feet, wailing loudly in agony. Juan, who slept so little, awoke with a start. In his drunken stupor, he was forced to witness her tears of blood.
“C’est quoi ceci? Emmanuel, what is going on?”
“I bear the wounds of Christ, I am Stigmata!” Rachel cried out as she fell to the floor, writhing.
“What kind of trickery is this? I will not be intimidated nor played with,” I demanded, thinking this was some sort of hoax. “Give me my rightful coins. I will pay you for your trouble, and then be done!”
“Oh, you think I jest and my daughter too? Take heed my friend, this is no show. She bleeds like this at least once in the month, sometimes more. I’ve had the priest here many times, he claims her to be genuine. Who am I or you to doubt the word of God?”
“I am only here for my coins, if I have to resort to extreme measures to get them, I will. I’m not interested in your daughter and her wild claim.”
Juan sobered up quickly. A girl lying prostrate on the floor with arms and legs stretched out, blood streaming from what appeared to be four wounds, was enough to sober his brain into action.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he commented quietly. “It’s unbelievable… A genuine stigmatic.”
A stigmatic? In all my journeys, I’d never come across one, taking the notion as one of attention seeking, mainly from women. Now I was expected to believe the cunning game-playing Isaac’s claim that this was the truth. If Rachel was a genuine case, why was I to be so punished? Reminded of the marks of Jesus as he hung dying on the cross would be a grim distraction from what I set out to do.
“Damn this to hell!” I voiced my displeasure loudly.
Juan nodded, speechless. He could do no more than look at me in wonder and confusion.
“I can do you no favors,” said Isaac. “I don’t know where the coins are now. I sold them a while back to a traveling merchant who buys and sells old artifacts, and given a tidy sum in exchange.”
“You’re lying. I feel at least one of them is close by. Besides, why would you deceive Dario into believing you have them, and then tell me you haven’t a clue where they are, the moment he’s gone. I want them back. If it means employing extreme measures, I will.”
Rachel had become quiet and, it appeared the bleeding had stopped. Oblivious, she remained on the floor in a very compromising position, displeasing Isaac. “Close your legs girl,” said her father. “Do you want these men to think you’re given to wrongdoings?”
“I demand you return my coins!” I repeated, more sternly than before.
Isaac eyed me defiantly and left us, slamming the door behind him. I expected he would tend to his goats in the darkness. A distraction from his lies and deception, perhaps?
Juan, the peacemaker, urged me not to follow him. “There is more than one way to skin a cat,” he whispered, blocking my path.
Why my thoughts went again to Isabella was beyond me. Then it dawned, if she was here, knowing her true colors, I could manipulate her to bed him. Pillow talk could be very revealing. But I had discarded her and rightly so. There was no other recourse than to wring the man’s neck until he confessed.
Rachel rose from the floor frantically wiping the blood from herself, a pathetic sight.
“Let me assist you, Je aderai?” Juan offered. I looked on with frustration and anger, no more concerned with her welfare than that of Isabella. Women. My romances this century had become a wreck, a wasteland of betrayal and broken promises.
Before Isabel, there was Angelica, who gave an outward impression of a pious married woman. In bed, she was another, with an appetite for sex away from normality. I was encouraged to tie her hands to the bedposts and flog her wildly, something she enjoyed with the deepest pleasure. Meeting by chance in Constantinople in the year 1677, I cursed the day I set eyes on her. She brought me almost to the brink of insanity with her desires, impressing on me how little her husband satisfied her. It was over before it began. Her guilty pleasures becoming a weight she couldn’t bear, and, against my pleading, she drifted back into respectful married life leaving me wanting. To compensate for the loss, I nursed my wounds with many a fleeting dalliance. Until a year later when I came across Isabella, my latest abomination.
“Juan, do yourself an enormous favor. Don’t involve yourself with her attention-seeking act. Many say, and quite rightly, that stigmatics perform the work of Satan, conning everyone in sight. This girl carries the inheritance of her father, himself a bad man. You’d do best to form the right opinion.”
Too late. Juan’s empathic eyes revealed his intrigue and compassion as he lifted her to her feet and set her down in a chair. The holes in her hands and feet, and scars on her forehead doing little to convince me. I presumed she’d gouged out the flesh and burned the edges herself, it was easily done.
“I’m a Catholic and believe strongly in atonement and sacraments. Christ died for our sins, the ultimate sacrifice. His death resulted in stigmatics still suffering his wounds to this day. Satan be damned!” Juan replied. Clearly, I had upset him, his nostrils flaring. “Francis of Assisi suffered the pain of stigmata. Take pity on this poor girl, she’s done nothing to harm you. Just look at her.”
I looked upon her, per his request. She smiled, a devious smirk disguised by a mask of innocence riling me to strangle Isaac even more
“My father is bringing the goats up from pasture. If you wish to kill him, wait until he returns. There are some very steep inclines, treacherous for the inexperienced walker,” Rachel advised, her voice hoarse for the screaming.
Did she read my thoughts like Juan? She is a sorceress like her fathe
r!
“What makes you think I want to kill him? I only want what’s mine so I can be on my way. I haven’t come here looking for trouble, only my coins.”
“What makes you think by gathering every single coin lost, you’ll have peace, an end to your suffering? No one promised you a dowry for heaven!”
For someone so young and sheltered, she certainly had a bold voice. A definite change from when she first entered the room as a shy and nervous girl. Was this also an act, or something more…?
“Do not waste your time trying to discern Father’s hiding places,” she said, her knowing smile widening. “He never divulges anything to me, not even where he keeps his money. I can better tell you where he keeps his whipping belt, as I’m often ordered to fetch it for a beating.”
’m only waiting to appease you,” I reminded Juan as the coins and Rachel’s beatings weighed annoyingly on my mind. Isaac’s absence became wearisome, as the three of us barely made conversation. Juan moved his chair closer to Rachel, who I suspected he was sadly smitten with. For the life of me, I couldn’t work out how her bleeding at a whim could ever be attractive.
“Don’t do anything stupid when he returns. You will need to negotiate a price for the coins; he’s not going to give them up out of the goodness of his heart. If he beats his daughter, you must not come between them,” Juan warned.
I had no time to argue my point. The door burst open revealing a strong gust of wind and a sorry excuse for a human being, Isaac.
“Rachel, go to your bed,” he demanded. “Judas, Emmanuel, whatever you’re called. I expect high payment for what you want. If you’re unwilling, then leave and take your drunken friend with you.”
“I refuse to negotiate with a lying pig. Hand over what doesn’t belong to you for a fair price,” I replied, my determination stronger than ever.
Rachel ignored her father’s demand, moving her chair closer to Juan.
“I’m telling you girl, defy me and you’ll be sorry.”
I could no longer stay compliant. Deciding to ignore Juan’s advice to not come between a father and daughter, I made my stand.
“Touch her and I will strike you,” I warned as I moved toward him.
Then came an eerie silence as Juan moved forward ready to stop whatever was about to happen. Rachel sat transfixed, her eyes full of anxiety. Fearless, I challenged him to make the first move.
“You are nothing but the scum of the earth, Iscariot. Coming into my home and putting your nose in the business of my daughter. I strongly object to your presence, do not make me ask you again to leave. You are nothing but a blight upon humanity. It’s shameful God even allows you to wander the earth, you should be in hell!”
I had expected a humble shepherd with a sweet natured daughter, both unwittingly in possession of something they didn’t understand and prepared to accept reasonable payment. Instead, I found myself stuck in the presence of a deeply unbalanced stigmatic and a piggish lunatic.
“Emmanuel, I think it’s best we go. If you’re not prepared to pay then you must capitulate,” advised Juan, trying to appeal to my better nature.
Every fiber in my body screamed to gather my sword and bring it down on Isaac’s neck, his end swift but sure. I’d made up my mind he didn’t deserve to be in this world, a degenerate. Living as isolated as he did I was certain no one would miss him. In fact, I’d be doing a great service to humanity by stopping his lifeless heart and freeing a young girl from his grip. I had nothing to lose, with Isaac out of the way I could tune in better and locate the coins. He was unaware of my intentions as I gathered my belongings in readiness to leave. Isaac saw it as a weak spot he could use by lifting an axe in readiness to bring it down on my head. It came swift and hard aimed for the back of my neck, but the idiot underestimated my reflexes. With one hand, I stopped the axe and drove my drawn dagger deep into his stomach. Rachel screamed.
Juan was horrified, watching Isaac writhe upon the ground gurgling blood, his eyes rolling.
“Emmanuel, what have you done?” he whispered worriedly.
“The man was a bastard… and no doubt abusive to his only progeny. I put an end to such a wretched existence. After all, the fool even thought he’d chop off my head.”
“I think we should leave, now!” urged Juan.
But with a father gone, what were we to do with Rachel? I wasn’t selfish enough to leave her to an unknown fate, nor leave his body to rot away until an unsuspecting Dario found it. Leaving her behind to an uncertain fate was a harsh thing even for me to do. She could panic and alert the authorities, who might see her as the prime suspect. Juan and I would be long gone, safely across the border while she hung for murder.
“First we dispose of the body, as quickly as possible. Rachel, you must come with us. If you stay, you’re in danger of being accused,” I warned her.
“What about the goats, I can’t leave them?” she replied frantically, rising above her tears.
“Goats are resilient; they feed off the land and drink from the mountain streams. Even in winter, they survive. Dario will take care of them and we’ll create a story, one he’ll believe. He will sell the goats for you, don’t worry,” advised Juan.
“We will bury the body and come back for you when we’re ready to leave,” I said.
She looked at me with a sadness and bewilderment. My actions had changed the course of her life, taking her away from everything she knew.
We dragged the body as far as possible and managed to find a good spot. But just as we finished, we were alerted by voices coming from nearby. It prompted us to make our way back toward the hut quickly. Reaching it without interference, even though it took longer than we thought I was relieved. Rachel was sitting by the fire’s dying embers, wearing a lost expression. Beside her, a few pitiful belongings packed into a small bag. I felt some compassion for this abandoned girl in spite of her strange bleeding arousing my suspicions. Juan showed more than pity. He fussed like a mother hen, stoking the fire and heating water for her to wash the dried blood still on her face.
“I think it best we wait till dawn,” he said, almost sweetly. There’s little we can do now.”
“I believe it’s too risky to stay till dawn,” I said. “We need to make haste now and journey in darkness. Our renewed goal should be to reach the border safely, with Racco’s help. Surely, we can stay there for a while, until this unfortunate event is forgotten.”
Juan was unimpressed. “Racco? The man is poisoned, if you want to believe his story. How do you poison an immortal? Besides, what can he do to help when he can’t even help himself?”
“I do not know what he can or cannot do,” I replied sourly. “But I’m prepared to find out.”
Rachel grew steadily more agitated. “Can we go? I’m afraid they’ll come for us. They won’t care I’m a woman, we’ll all be executed!”
Not knowing a hanging for us was a mere inconvenience, I realized she lacked the full extent of her father’s sentient gifts.
There was a little food packed for the journey, water and other supplies to keep us warm. Juan’s steady and calm presence would come in handy for Rachel’s moods and attacks.
The three of us made our way in the opposite direction of where we left Isaac. Important to keep to another route and hopefully recall the way to Racco by memory, without Dario, we would have to depend on instinct. Rachel covered her head with a thin cloth, giving little protection against the wind. I thought it strange, a Shepherd’s daughter dressed in clothing not adequate for life in such harsh conditions. Isaac didn’t strike me as a poor man. Now he was dead, I couldn’t be sure of the truth. If he really had sold the coins, the bastard must have procured a tidy sum unknown to his daughter.
I was doubtful he sold them, although the sense of their presence remained with me. I could come back another time.
Trying to negotiate rocky terrain in such darkness was no easy task. It was only a matter of luck not one of us fell, somehow avoiding the chasms hidden in the dar
k. Rachel had brought a small lamp, but the oil was nearly gone, and we would have need of that luxury at camp.
The weather had been holding steady, cold, but dry. But with the dawn came rain, and the wind picked up. When Rachel complained about the increasing chill, Juan gallantly gave up his cloak, wrapping it tightly around her. I would later thank him for remembering the human condition, since neither of us was susceptible to common ailments, like influenza.
“Emmanuel, please don’t think ill of me for being a stigmatic. I can’t help it.”
Despite my distrust of her condition, I hadn’t even thought of it since leaving her father’s house. “I think no less of you… but let’s keep going, shall we?”
The rain came down harder with no signs of stopping, prompting Juan to suggest we take shelter in an abandoned hut we came upon. The place was devoid of furnishings, but dry and without any obvious roof leaks in sight. We laid blankets down, glad of the reprieve. Rachel seemed unperturbed to be alone with two men in the dead of night. She curled into a ball near the fire we made, and fell asleep almost immediately.
Her face was so much older than the young woman she should be. Too many lines etched in her forehead, under the eyes and around her mouth. I watched her sleep, wondering if she ever had a moment’s blessing. Juan lay quietly, his eyes staring at the roof. Neither of us spoke, not being able to sleep didn’t mean we had to talk. Often both of us benefited from silence. By dawn’s light, the rain had mercifully stopped. After waking Rachel, we ate a small meal and moved on. But less than five minutes from the hut, trouble appeared.
“Who goes there? What’s your business on my land?’ A man stood firmly in our path, musket in hand, demanding an answer.
“We were under the impression this is a public footpath for everyone. We’re passing through, good sir, and mean no harm.” I smiled, in hopes he would lower the gun and its presumed hostility.
“It’s you, Witch be gone! Do not cross my land and mark me for death.” His eyes were set on Rachel, who was trying to disguise her face with a shawl. I couldn’t understand why he was so terrified by her presence, even going so far as to step backwards. But then saw the rash of sours upon his face and neck.
