Jabali

Attendance was required, but watching the demonstration was not. Jabali hid behind the impressive mass of several men, turning hooded eyes to Villisika, who stayed mostly out of sight using similar methods.

"Villisika," Jabali hissed, motioning to her with a twirl of her hand.

Villisika threw an apprehensive glance around at the masses and trotted over. Villisika was a tall and stately girl of twenty, with the traditional dark hair that marked a Scrofa and matching black eyes. Her usually dark tan had turned pale with fear.

"I can't watch this," Villisika hissed.

"They will force us," Jabali murmured back.

As if prompted by Jabali's words, all the females were called to the front of the circle. It was impossible for either Jabali or Villisika to remain unnoticed. Two men beside them gave them gruff pushes forward. Jabali squeezed through elbows and hips to reach the center, where she joined the rest of the women in the tribe. Most wore veneers of indifference, a reserve that took at least twenty-five years to perfect. Jabali was able to smooth her face, though her eyes had trouble finding the middle of the ring. Villisika, always an easy victim of emotional disarray, sucked in a deep breath and stood there quivering.

The entire population went deathly quiet when a shriek penetrated the air. Jabali clenched her fists to keep her body from recoiling. She forced her eyes to remain open though he desperately wished to clamp shut. She yearned to take Villisika's hand, but such contact was severely scorned, even amongst women.

A woman was violently tossed into the center of the ring. Jabali did not know her name; everyone refused to tell her. However, she had seen her around the colony, occasionally tossing out a rare laugh or smile. Her dark hair was streaked with auburn highlights and her figure was uncontested. She was a year younger than Jabali, but she was a woman. That particular fact was unavoidable now that she was stripped naked and thrown like a rag into the fray.

The young woman sat there quivering, her fingers clutching the dirt and her hair hanging in front of her face. A soft murmur swept through the crowd. They all watched the head boar, Karju, step forward, his eyes cold as stones and his lips drawn into a scowl beneath his uncombed beard. The young woman crawled away as he approached, but he reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair. He yanked her head into the air. She cried out and wept like a newborn piglet. Her body was riddled with gashes and punctures, smeared and stained with dirt, blood, and ash.

Jabali wanted to weep with her as well. Villisika clamped a hand over her own mouth before she could emit a sob. Only the women Jabali's age seemed to have trouble watching the spectacle. The other women were stoic and silent, their eyes fixed on the young sow with apathy.

"Why don't you give these women your advice?" Karju snarled in the woman's ear. "I think they would like to hear it."

The woman was weeping too heavily to get a word out.

"Tell them!" Karju ordered, shaking the woman by her hair.

"I am sorry!" the woman wailed. "I beg for your mercy, Boar Karju! Please!"

"Tell them!" Karju boomed, shaking her more violently. "Tell them and I may consider your request."

"Sows and gilts of the sounder," the woman sobbed. "Please heed my words. Stay true to your husbands and your husbands-to-be. Control your vile and petty lusts. Keep yourselves pure until your husband may take you."

Karju threw the woman into the dirt and ash and spun to face the women around him.

"Do you see her suffering?" he roared. "The next time you harbor lascivious thoughts, think of this woman. This poor, bloody wench who gave herself to base desires and betrayed her fiancé's trust." He whipped around. "Bring me the rod."

A bare-chested man emerged from the crowd, carrying a thin rod that glowed orange at the tip. Villisika let out a sharp gasp, but it was ignored. Jabali felt her knees shake with terror and revulsion. She had seen this ceremony only once before when she was six years old and unable to understand its significance. Now, at eighteen, she wished she was that naive again.

Karju took the rod and pointed to the woman. "Hold her."

"NO!" the woman cried, wriggling and squealing. The bare-chested man waved to two other boars, who slipped into the ring and assisted him. Together they held the women to the ground. The bare-chested man forced the woman's thighs apart.

"No, please!" the woman shrieked. "Please! I beg for your mercy! Your mercy, please!"

"You knew of the consequences," Karju growled, stepping closer. Jabali watched the red hot tip of the rod and felt nausea creep into her stomach. She wanted to close her eyes and turn away, but she feared the repercussions if she did so. Tears began to well in her eyes.

"Lock me away! Beat me if you like! Please, please don't do this!"

"Your fiancé has no need for an impure wife," Karju replied. "If you survive this, then you are free to leave the tribe and never return. If you don't, then you justly paid for your sin."

He thrust the rod between her legs. Jabali could not watch. She turned away and clenched her eyes shut at the sound of the woman's tortured shrieks. Her heart beat an uneven rhythm and her breathing ground to a halt. Tears began to fall.

She had never been so disgusted by her own people.

*****

The woman, whose name had been Eber, did not survive the night. Perhaps she would have lasted longer if the women of the Scrofa colony were allowed to attend to her. However, Eber had been tossed into the woods and forced to fend for herself. It was no surprise that the next morning she was found stone cold beneath the canopy of some bushes. No one bothered to bury her. She was thrown into the lake and left to decay.

Jabali wondered what had happened to the male Eber had sinned with. It seemed that no one minded his impropriety. Even Eber's fiance did not seek redress. In fact, word was in the market two days later that he had found a new bride-to-be.

"This one," he had proclaimed with a laugh, "is guaranteed to stay loyal."

No one mourned for Eber. Even her mother refused to admit that Eber had been her daughter. There were no tears shed, no remorse. Of course, no one dared lament for the poor sow. Any display of emotion was considered weakness, and weakness was intolerable. Even women were expected to remain impassive during any tragedy or triumph.

Jabali did not want to return to her normal life after the horrors she had seen, but she could not do otherwise. Villisika was as horrified and repulsed as Jabali, but she would not speak about it. She informed Jabali that the daily routine must continue, no matter what their consciences said.

"It is over," Villisika murmured, bending further over the rabbit she was skinning. "That is all that can be said."

"It is unjust," Jabali said, grunting as she worked to stretch a deer's hide across the rack.

"There is nothing we can do about it, so you better keep your mouth shut." Villisika's threat was tinged with fear. "I'd like to keep a low profile, if possible."

"Why do you complain?" Jabali grumbled. "You aren't in the public's eye like I am."

Villisika sniffed. "That could change with a few unwise words on my part. So let's move on and not speak about it."

"Everyone's so scared out of their wits," Jabali continued, ignoring Villisika's warning. "What kind of life is that? To live in constant fear? I don't know if I can do it anymore. I'm only eighteen and yet nightmares plague my sleep. I wake up in fits. I can never look anyone in the eye."

"What do you plan on doing about it?" Villisika challenged.

"I can't do anything about it." Jabali ran a hand over the hide, making sure it was taut. "I'm only a woman."

"Take up your concerns with your fiance," Villisika suggested sarcastically. "I'm sure he'll listen to you."

"He isn't my fiance," Jabali growled. "He thinks he is."

"Which makes him your fiance," Villisika replied. "There's no possible way you can deny him."

Jabali bit her lip. She could not confide in Villisika. She was too prone to terror. She would admit to anything if it removed her from harm's way. If Jabali told her her plan and someone caught wind of it, Villisika would tell everyone about it to avoid blame. Jabali had to bite her tongue and remain languidly silent.

Jabali dunked her hands into a bucket of water, rinsing off any residue blood that stuck beneath her fingernails. She then dried her hands on her deer hide tunic and pushed her thick dark hair off her neck.

Jabali left Villisika to her task and wandered over to the pig pens. Most of the hogs were wild; therefore, they were dangerous to touch. However, Jabali had adopted a runt piglet when its mother died of pneumonia. The little gilt was three weeks old, and rushed around with spryness Jabali had lost at age five. She ran over when she saw Jabali, raising her head in expectation of milk.

"I've brought you nothing right now, Babi," Jabali cooed with a smile. "Perhaps in an hour or so."

Babi squealed and galloped in circles. Jabali lowered her arms into the pen and the piglet wandered into her hands. Jabali lifted her and cradled her against her chest. Babi buried her soft brown nose into Jabali's tunic, grunting contentedly. Jabali ran a hand over her coarse brown hair. The piglet was the only thing that brought Jabali joy in the Scrofa sounder.

"Jabali."

Jabali turned and faced her mother, who was carrying a bundle of fruit in her arms. Sometimes Jabali balked at the sight of her mother and wondered if she would look so beaten and miserable at that age. Bags hung under the sow's eyes and lines surrounded her lips. Her gaze was blank and exhausted. There was no life left in Jabali's mother. It was a fate most Scrofa women suffered.

"Yes?" Jabali asked. Her fingers accidentally wandered too close to Babi's mouth. The little gilt tried chomping down on her thumb with razor sharp teeth. Jabali yanked her hand back before the pig could take off a finger.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I just came to say hello to Babi." Jabali glanced down at her pig with adoration. "Isn't she adorable?"

"Jabali, you must get serious."

"About what?" Babi began to squeal, so Jabali placed her back in the pen and watched her leap around like a grasshopper.

"Karju spoke to me today."

Jabali's entire frame went rigid. She stared at the pig pens as she asked, "About what?"

"About you, of course."

"Mother--"

"He is very concerned with your . . . attitude."

"Attitude," Jabali repeated.

"Yes. You argued with him last night."

"He came into my burrow at midnight. He has no right to--"

"He has every right to!" Jabali's mother spat. "He is the Head Boar of the Scrofa. He can do whatever he likes and no one is to challenge him unless they plan to kill him."

Jabali had hoped for awhile that someone would kill him and take his place, but Karju was still young. He had murdered the Head Boar last year and hardly broke a sweat. He was the largest and strongest male among them. He still had a good twenty years left in his rule. Jabali did not have that sort of time. By then she would be broken like her mother.

Jabali stayed silent.

Her mother sighed. "Jabali, please just listen to me. I know you are, well, pigheaded. You've been strong-willed and opinionated every since you were a babe. But my dear, it must stop. You are a woman now. You are grown up. You must behave appropriately and sensibly."

Jabali had heard this speech before. She was tired of it. "Even if that means tossing away my pride and dignity?"

"A woman can have a sense of pride and dignity, but she must not show it through stubborn words and aggressive acts. She must show it in her ability to farrow children and raise them--"

"I have these words memorized, Mother," Jabali grunted. "Spare me the repetition."

"Why do you object so passionately to marriage with Karju? You should be honored the Head Boar has chosen you as his mate."

Jabali shuddered as she thought of Karju. He was more than a man. He was a monster. He could take her in one hand and crush her. His gray eyes held no compassion or warmth. Jabali had seen wild pigs with more sympathy. When she recalled him slipping the fiery rod into poor Eber's womb, a shudder slipped down her shoulders and across her spine. How could she let those murderous, bloody hands touch her?

Jabali knew her mother would not understand. Jabali's father had been a typical Scrofa boar: emotionless and barbaric. Her mother had survived him; why could Jabali not survive someone similar? Jabali didn't bother to mention the joy in her mother's eyes when she learned her husband had been killed in battle on foreign territory.

"He terrifies me like nothing else," Jabali finally replied. It was the truth, if not an overly simplified way of expressing it.

"Well, of course he does! The Head Boar terrifies everyone. But nowhere does it require you to feel affection for the man. You are merely required to carry and farrow his children. Think of the honor and respect you and your offspring will receive! The family of the Head Boar is always the most revered."

"Someone will kill him eventually," Jabali said. "He will grow old and weak and some stronger, younger boar will take his place.

Jabali's mother shrugged. "So be it. By that time you will have many sons who will be fit to rise and take his place."

The position of Head Boar was not a position she wished on any of her children. It was the most vile job Jabali could contemplate.

"What if he kills me?" Jabali asked, which was her greatest fear. He had not flinched when he tortured Eber. Jabali had never seen him wince when murder was necessary (or unnecessary, as it was with Eber.) If she provoked him, it was certainly possible he'd strangle her to death.

"If you do your job correctly and stop defying him, then that won't be an option."

"What if I make a simple mistake? Karju is infamous for his temper. One slip-up could throw him over the edge."

"Jabali, you spend too much time contemplating this. I want you to speak to him tonight and apologize."

As if her pride weren't damaged enough after eighteen years of life among the Scrofa. However, arguing with her mother was fruitless. She only nodded. "Very well, Mother."

"Good girl. Now why don't you feed and water these hogs. They look hungry."

Jabali ducked her head. "Yes, Mother."

*****

He came at night, like her mother had said he would.

Every young man or woman was given their own burrow at sixteen in order to prepare for life as an adult. Jabali's was temporary, of course, since she would soon wed and move in with her husband.

All burrows were buried in the ground; their entrances were the only facets that were open to the street. The streets at had been deep ravines dug and paved a century ago with stone and mud. The architecture of the Scofa colony made it so that the entire area could be covered with reed mats and hidden from enemy view if the defense was necessary. So, technically, the entire population was seated below the top soil around it.

Jabali took great care of her burrow. It was small and it was old, but she repaired whatever wall leaked or hinge creaked. She made it as pleasant as possible by potting flowers in the window and replacing her candles every so often. She made sure every kitchen appliance and article of clothing was put in its proper place. No one would have known by glancing around who lived here. The decorations were impersonal and the tools universal. This burrow would never miss her if she left.

She was scouring her kettle when there was a loud booming knock at her door. Fearing the great brute of a man would put a hole through her door, she leapt to her feet and answered.

Karju's head barely brushed the ceiling when he stepped in. His formidable form threw half the burrow in shadow. The firelight turned his eyes into black pebbles and his skin into red leather. He crossed his large hairy arms across his chest and scowled at her from underneath his enormous dark beard.

"Well?" he rumbled.

"Well?" Jabali repeated, turning her back and returning to her scouring work.

"I'm waiting for my apology."

"What would it mean to you?" Jabali whispered. "After all, you promised Eber a lesser sentence if she gave the women her advice. She did, and you still killed her."

"It was a lesser sentence," Karju replied. "I could have let the more eager men have their way with her first."

Jabali only lowered her face and scrubbed harder.

"So you won't apologize," Karju growled.

"You don't need a few words from me to feel better about yourself."

"My opinion of myself is not the point." He raised his eyebrows. The black paint beneath his eyes gave his expression an ominous tint. "Humbling yourself is the point."

"I am humble," Jabali grunted. "If you require me to humble myself, I will denounce my person for three days without stop."

"An apology would require less breath."

"I cannot apologize."

"Why not?"

"I'm not truly sorry for what I said to you."

Karju took a few steps toward her. The walls shook with each fall of his foot. Jabali swallowed the swells of fear in her throat and pretended to ignore him. He consumed trepidation like food. Perhaps she could starve him if she kept her wits about her.

"Why do you speak to me like this, Jabali?"

"Would you prefer it if I lied?" She finally raised her eyes, which was a terrible mistake. He looked fiercer up close. She also recognized the battle axe resting on his hip. It had beheaded men before, the late Head Boar being one of them.

Karju opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he smiled, a vulpine smile that sent shivers through Jabali's torso.

"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you would not be so enchanting if you were no so infuriatingly obstinate." He bent over and grabbed her arm, hauling her to a stand. She crashed against his chest. She pushed herself away, but his grip was firm. There was no breaking the contact. "However, if you knew what was best for you, you would heed my advice."

"How is that?" Jabali asked, wrinkling her nose at his scent. He must have just come in from a hunt. He reeked of blood and sweat.

"Because, little gilt," he murmured, "your stubborn streak will soon lose its charm. And I will have to break you as I would a horse."

Jabali struggled in his grip to no avail.

"As much as I would enjoy that," he continued, "you should think about yourself first."

"Please let go of me," Jabali implored.

Karju sighed and pushed her away from him. Her back hit the lip of the kettle with a clang and she bit her tongue in pain. She pulled herself to her knees, ignoring the sharp spasms in her spine.

"If a hog were as recalcitrant as you, I would have her butchered," Karju remarked.

"Perhaps you should find yourself a different bride then."

Karju laughed, a deep rumble that started in his stomach and swirled around the room like smoke. "You think I am intimidated by you, little gilt? It is the Head Boar's privilege to chose the prettiest girl in his domain and make her his sow. I will take full advantage of that privilege, no matter what snags it might have."

Jabali closed her eyes. Her looks had brought nothing but agony upon her head. She had been the object of desire for every boar in the clan. And now her face had condemned her to a lifetime beside Karju, the most horrid man of them all.

Karju snatched her up again, pulling her against her chest and holding her to him. She wriggled and tried shoving him away, but his strength was threefold what hers was. She was helpless as his hands clamped onto her hindquarters and pressed her against him. Heat rose to her face and humiliation made her breath heavy in her lungs.

"You are mine, little gilt. You seem slow to understand this. You may fight and you may squeal, but in the end you will understand." One hand left her rear to push back her hair. Perhaps it was his attempt at affection, but Jabali only saw it as possessive privilege. He leaned down so that his lips lingered over her ear. "Soon I will have you. Every delicious inch of you." She felt his tongue brush against her ear lobe.

Jabali shuddered and recoiled. She once again retried her efforts to break free. Karju noticed her persistence and threw her back against the wall. Her skull cracked against the stone, causing black spots to dance across her vision.

"Soon, Jabali," Karju hissed, pointing an accusing finger. "I will return tomorrow night for my apology."

He stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Jabali stretched herself across the hearth and sobbed into her arms. As a boar, crying was a rare event.

But she had never been so terrified in her life.