The Fecund's Melancholy Daughter - Brent Hayward [67]
“Some days, I’m sure, were pretty crappy.
“One thing for certain: the structure known as Jesthe existed, way back then, but as a small, almost quaint dwelling. A cute little cottage compared to the present monstrosity that towers over our heads.
“Living inside this version of Jesthe was a couple with red blood in their veins. One of each gender. A brother and sister.”
The fecund laughed to see Octavia’s reaction.
“I’m kidding. They weren’t siblings. What kind of story do you think this is? How dull would it be to hear about the exploits of siblings? Are they attracted to each other? Will they sleep together? What’s their special bond? Who cares! These people were fine sovereigns of their land and of their people. Proud specimens. Your friend, you know, the chatelaine, is a descendant of this couple. That’s right, girl, the drunken sadsack you call your boss.” Another white rat skull, clacking hollowly against the stones. “Anyhow, the young couple—and Jesthe, of course—eventually became very well known to me.
“The first castellan and chatelaine. Carolus and Anna. They had recently been wed. Anna was brought in from a neighbouring family, a miniscule village that today has been subsumed and forgotten. She was almost as crazy as Carolus.”
“You never said he was crazy. You said he was proud.”
“Well, he was crazy. Did I tell you Anna was twelve years old?”
“No.”
“Why do people like that end up together? Have you ever wondered? I’ve seen it happen again and again. A strange phenomenon. Lunacy attracting lunacy. Then, of course, they encourage each other, I suppose, validate each other.
“But I digress.
“Carolus and Anna had three children, two boys and a girl.
“And Solum—for the settlement already had that name—grew around them.”
Octavia squatted on her haunches, using the upturned basket for support.
“The family managed to lead their subjects in a state of quiet terror, during which there were small amounts of prosperity, it’s true, and several great harvests, but the most memorable change of all during this period was a marked increase in the disappearances of nubile youths—primarily virginal females (such as, I’m sure, yourself).” Again laughter. “In fact, my dear Octavia, the shortage of birthing age women—from ten or so years old to perhaps sixteen—in the surrounding townships, soon became so profound and dire that feuds were fought over the few fertile daughters who managed, by luck, or by desperate plot, including lockdown, to remain within the auspices they were born into.”
“I don’t think I want to hear this story,” Octavia said. “Can’t you tell me another one?”
“You can’t pick and choose. And why don’t you like this one, anyhow? I was just getting to the good part. Listen:
“I smelled food. Jesthe had become irresistible, calling to me, wafting aromas I could not resist. I have a pronounced weakness, you understand, a metabolism you would never understand. I sniffed out this place. I watched the activity best I could from the safety of hedgerows, salivating, hearing screams no human could hear. Do you know what the castellan and his wife were up to?”
Octavia shook her head.
“They were bathing in the temperate fluids that spilled from the arteries of these girls—to stay young! That’s right, my marked friend: red blood! Of all things! Madness and vanity combined.
“The new gods approved. What god doesn’t like a blood bath?
“Knowing that my own appetites would be welcome, I approached. It was, as they say, a dark and stormy night. I knocked on the front door of Jesthe with a proposition for the happy couple.
“At first, they were suspicious. Naturally.” The third skull ricocheted and the fecund appeared to transform briefly, becoming blurry around the edges before snapping back into place, sharper than before. “I introduced myself. And that, as you folks say, was the beginning of the good ol’ days. The rest is history.
“Sadly, like I’d said, the couple turned out to be crazy as fleas. Carolus used to regularly drink