The Pain that Made Her Beautiful

PMHB ch24

CHAPTER 5

Nayeli had lain quietly on her bedroll, listening to the revelation of her identity. She hadn’t told anyone of her pre-slavery identity, not even Neorah. Nayeli feared that if someone were to become enlightened to her true title, they would only want to use it against her and, if not solely, for their gain.

Now, she was walking toward a tent that was incredibly well camouflaged, and would have, was there no one to direct her elsewhere, mistaken it to be a mere rise of the terrain. To Nayeli, there were way too many Roman soldiers around, all of which were staring at the whole group, rather then singling her out, to her relief. The men looked as though they were calculating everyone, with not just a “what are you all about” glint in their eyes, but also a greedy eye weighing which one would make them rich the fastest.

Nayeli had seen that look before. She had seen it too many times to mistake the meaning; Thanos had given her that look after she and Jamal had escaped in to the night. He had begun to sell her “services”, as if it were with her blessing, at every stop that they made to the hungry eyes of the buyers. Thanos had made a fortune with her by the time she was no older than thirteen. Shortly thereafter, he had sold her to the Deangelo family. For that small piece of mercy, Nayeli had thanked all gods, known and unknown.

To her pleasant surprise, Nayeli had found Claudius to be a man of incredible kindness and devotion to his family and wife. He had neither tried to make advances on Nayeli nor use her against her will. He believed in someone that he had continuously called “the Messiah”, and referred to as “Saving Grace”. Nayeli found that Neorah and her family had worshiped the same God, though she most often called Him “the Lamb”, “my Redeemer”, and “Christ Jesus”. It had always been a mystery to Nayeli how they had worshiped Him, as they gave no animal sacrifice or had any frolicking ceremonies, not even a statue or temple.

Nayeli snapped back to reality and saw that they were inside of the fraudulent hill. There was a bright red top to the tent and had richly colored furnishings. There was a ring of posts around the outer edge of the single room, and over each post was draped a large black cloth. The lighting was low. Something about the whole situation made Nayeli increasingly uneasy. The back of her neck tingled with discomfort. Her whole body tingled and Nayeli had the overwhelming urge to bolt out of the tent, screaming.

Then she saw them, the men who were hiding behind the black cloths that were dangled around the supporting posts. They were clothed in dark colors, their faces were completely covered, save for a strip revealing their eyes. They had long bows, drawn and loaded, at their sides.

At the front of the room stood Apollo, garbed in his usual leather armor. He had a red cloak draped over his shoulders, and as he moved to grasp Warick’s forearm in greeting, Nayeli spied the hilt of, not just the usual “just in case” gladius of a Roman soldier, she saw the hilt of an officer’s gladius, well shined, with the sheath unhooked so that, at any moment, Apollo was unhindered in an effort to slash a defense.

There was not even a hint of the betrayal he was about to commit on his face; it was flawless. Nayeli was uneasy and her stomach queasy. Apparently, her emotions were laid bare on her face because, when Apollo happened to catch her eye he saw she was aware of his intentions and got a glint of anticipation. She had no choice; it was now or never. Nayeli knew she had to do the right thing.

“Warick! It’s a trap! RUN!!” Nayeli shouted urgently.

Warick looked at Nayeli in desperation and confusion trying to get his barring, but it was too late. No sooner had Nayeli yelled in warning than Apollo had given his signal and the men on the outer rim came out in to the open, bows drawn in warning only. As the bowmen had exposed their positions, tens, twenties, maybe even more, men had come from the well concealed folds of the tent and rushed into the center of the space, not striking, but binding, wrestling, only using their weapons as intimidation. Everything happened so fast that Nayeli didn’t even realize that she was in ropes until she was being shepherded past Warick. More than six Roman guards were tackling him, but to no avail. Warick was fighting with every fiber of his being, and next to him was Avel, doing the same. Everything was so… so wrong. None of this was supposed to happen. The only thing that Nayeli wanted out of life as it was, was to grow old tenderly caring to the children that she had come to love as her own family, but now… now, they were all gone. No one was left. Again, Nayeli was staring at her life, nothing left and no one left. There was only Neorah, and Nayeli was not even sure that she would ever even see that sister to her heart ever again.

Nayeli was in shock now and turned her head. She saw Neorah. She had a nasty cut on her forehead that was bleeding a small, steady stream of blood.  Neorah was lying on the left side of her left leg, her hips turning, so that she lay flat on her back, her face turned toward Nayeli’s overflowing eyes. Nayeli couldn’t believe it. None of this was ever supposed to happen. There was never supposed to be bloodshed, there was never supposed to be pain, and there was never supposed to be any of this. Three words hit Nayeli like a brick wall “supposed to be”. They told of what was expected, not of the cold, hard, unforgiving reality.

Nayeli was being prodded down a small hallway and she strained to keep watching Neorah’s beaten face. When she was almost completely inside of the black fabric lined threshold, Nayeli shrieked: she wouldn’t leave Neorah’s broken body behind!

Nayeli wrenched her arms free of the Romans escorting her somewhere she did not know and ran; her hands bound in front of her, to Neorah. Nayeli grabbed Neorah’s left hand and held it between her own as she called out, “Neorah. Neorah. Are you well, my sister?”

She didn’t move. Though she was still warm to the touch, Neorah had no life. There was no beat in her chest; there was no breath, nothing! Neorah had been a gentle spirit, but the only thing left of her was an empty body. The only thing that Nayeli had left of her was a memory.

Despair began to creep into Nayeli’s veins. There was no one left for her. All of them were gone, in a blink of an eye.  Just as the loss began to take hold of her, Nayeli denied it and refused to believe it. None of this could be real. There was nothing for it. How could a God that Neorah professed to love her kill her! There was no reason behind it. She couldn’t be gone, Nayeli refused to believe it.

“Neorah! Neorah! By the gods! Answer me! Please!” Nayeli yelled weeping, “I can’t do this without you!”

As Nayeli spoke her last few words, she lowered her head, closed her eyes, and wept, her shoulders shaking violently. Then, she felt an arm go around her waist and lift her away. Another arm joined the first, creating an unmoving vice as Nayeli’s heart wrenching screams burst from her lips in agony of leaving the person behind. She kicked and hit and scratched and thrashed about as hard as she could, but nothing. She clung to anything and everything as whoever it was, step by step, separated her from Neorah.

A door opened and Nayeli felt herself plopped down. She heard a door shut and promptly lock. Nayeli lay on the floor of a well-padded room. She knew this place. But her terror alone did not drive her to weep, nor was it her deep loss of a sister to her very soul, but it was the deep fear and ominous blackness that seemed to be looming over her. She was alone, completely alone. Again, all she wanted to do was to curl up in the familiar arms of someone who truly loved her and would fight for her as hard as she for them.

Nayeli couldn’t feel anything, even though the only movement she recalled was up-down, up-down, and pain, lots of pain. There was nothing. Just a haze, a cloudy mirror, was all that she was able to recall. Then, there was a darkness that settled in, it lasted for what seemed weeks, or even months, never lifting. Nayeli could see nothing and remembered, vaguely, as a door opened and arms enveloped her, holding her close, keeping her safe. When those arms came over her, Nayeli remembered waking up on her stomach, her back had opened in sections again. Something was very strange, there was some miracle happening here, even though Nayeli could not see it. There was a good Power working all the evils to good, even though it was not clearly evident.

There was another black haze and Nayeli awoke to the “carumph” of a wagon wheel falling into a pothole. There was a sharp jostling and then, Nayeli remembered nothing again, just a blurry miasma.