Judith Slays Holofernes, Pt XIII

In some ways, I could not ask for a better student.  She is attentive, diligent, and clever- often teasing out a lesson’s point before I can finish it.  She is a raw beginner when it comes to physical training, but she is graceful, which helps, and open to correction, which helps more.  I know she must be sore (I am sore, and I’m primarily watching and commenting), but she never complains.  We have shifted our training to more of a night-schedule, so as not to alarm the servants.  As far as they are concerned, she never leaves the house, and spends most of the daylight hours in pious prayer.  And, for all I know, she does. I would not put it past her to be able to pray in her sleep.

It has been three weeks, and I can see the physical changes beginning in her body- soft curves of childhood flesh burning away in favor of sleek muscle.  It is making her more beautiful still. Or perhaps it is the quiet sorrow in her eyes. She does what is required of her, but as of yet there is not joy in it.  Perhaps, if she is Called, that will change.

Or perhaps I should take her on a Hunt.

I must say, Bethulia is surprisingly free of the supernatural, evil or otherwise.  It’s puzzling, because usually Slayer Potentials are discovered in hotbeds of mystical activity- often near Hellmouths themselves.  But there is no real threat within these walls, no monsters, no vampires, not even a dark magic user. Nor a light one, for that matter. To be honest it’s so mundane that it makes me suspicious.  Perhaps their god has taken a special interest in this town, and placed it under his direct protection, or perhaps they have deeper safeguards I have not seen or could not recognize. Either way, if I am to take my Potential hunting, we must go beyond the city walls, into the wild mountains around us.

Judith Slays Holofernes, Pt XII

These past thirty days have been an education.

The Judaeans cease all but the most necessary work (and all but the most necessary celebrations) when they mourn.  Which means that the barley harvest was still brought in, and the appropriate sacrifices burned to their god, but beyond that… it’s been like living in a particularly noisy graveyard.

After she made her proclamation to me regarding the start of her training, my ward threw back her head and began to wail.  I was so taken aback at first- she is normally so calm, so collected- that all I could do was stare. And then she began to tear at her clothing, and I thought surely something had broken inside her mind, but then the priests came rushing in, and they began to wail, too, and so did the servants, and then they were all tearing at their clothing, and I realized what I was seeing- ritualistic grief.  Real grief, yes, but given ritualistic form. I myself stepped back into the shadows- I had my own grief, and it seemed out of place amongst theirs.

My Potential was hustled away by the women of her family, and I trailed lamely behind, a strange witness to a private time.  They went to the kitchens and scooped great handfuls of ash upon their heads. One of them moved to dump a handful on my head, and I did not stop her.

I later learned that there is such a thing as a professional mourner, someone you can hire to lament loudly on your behalf when you begin to tire.  It is something that many rich families do, to honor their dead, because really, it’s near-impossible to keep up wailing for an entire seven-day. But not my ward.  By the end of the week her voice has become a thin keen, but no one mourned Manessah on her behalf. This, of course, only endeared her further to the populace.

At the end of the seven days she ceased to wail, removed the ash from her hair, and changed out her torn clothing for widow’s weeds.  Official Mourning continued, but less dramatically. And at the end of the thirty days, the entire household seemed to take a deep, shuddering breath- and then carry on with their lives.  I fully expected my ward to do the same, but when I came to her this morning, the thirty-first day since Manessah died, I found her still dressed all in shapeless black. I refrained from comment- after all, black blends better with the shadows we will spend most of our time in.

Judith Slays Holofernes, Pt XI

Manessah is dead.

Yesterday afternoon he was supervising the men in the field as they bound up the sheaves of barley.  They had just moved on to the law row when he collapsed, his body wracked with seizures. By the time a priest could be fetched he had lost all consciousness, and his skin was alarmingly hot and dry to the touch.  The field servants rushed him back to the house and placed him in the shade, where the house servants poured cool water over him, and the priests prayed, but to no avail. He did not regain his senses, and this morning as the sun broke the horizon, he died.

I know the specific moment of Manessah’s death because my Potential did not leave his side the entire night, and I did not leave her side.  Perhaps I should have given her privacy for her grief-stricken vigil, but I felt… responsible.

She sat in silence for a long time after his last shallow breath, staring at the lifeless hand she held in her own as the room grew gradually brighter.  I could hear the priests’ chanting through the walls, and wondered how long she would have before someone came to check on him. I wondered if it was my place to try and move her from his side.  But before I could make up my mind she stirred.

Her hands did not release his, but she looked up at me, eyes harrowed with pain.

“Did you do this?” she whispered, and I flinched.

“My lady-” but she cut me off with a sharp gesture before I could answer.

“No.  Don’t.”  She turned her face back to his, smoothed her thumb over his now colorless cheekbones.  “I am not ready to hear the truth, whatever it may be. I do not know what I can or cannot believe in this moment, except that the God of gods is good, and whatever happens is by His will alone.”  She was silent again for a long moment, and my heart twisted inside my chest. How could she believe her God would allow this- direct this, even- and still call him good?

“I am too small to understand the pattern of the infinite,” she said, as though answering my unspoken question.  “I am too small to even understand my place within it. All I can do is have faith. And I do have faith.”

She looked up at me again, and this time there was a fire in her eyes.

“I have faith that the God of gods takes vengeance for his people where it is needed, so that we may be free to turn our minds to greater things.  My husband Manessah is dead. I am a widow, beholden now to no earthly master. I will lead our household in a mourning period of thirty days. And then you will begin my training.”

Judith Slays Holofernes, Pt X

It's been an eventful day in the O household- we did our Holiday Family Portrait this morning, and... well hell, that's more than enough eventfulness, trust me.  Now TLG is down for a nap, my spouse-creature is watching football (or something), and I have done today's writing.

***

She has been praying for a full day and a night.  And fasting, at that. The other servants are concerned.  Manessah is concerned.  But I? I am furious.  She is drawing attention we do not need drawn.  I wish her god would hurry up and let her know his will, one way or the other.  I remind the others of how pious she is, that surely she is only preparing herself for the holy days, nothing more.  Meanwhile, it is unseasonably hot, and I’m hoping she doesn’t take that as a negative sign.

While she sits and waits for her god to give her insight, I have been further contemplating the problem of children born to a Slayer.  How much easier it would be, if she were widowed before they could be conceived. She would still have her riches, her status, her power- but without any divided loyalties.

It makes me uneasy to remember that, just before I left the Council, I was visited by one of the Elders.  He sat and quizzed me on a variety of subjects, but he spent what seemed to me an inordinate amount of time on poisons and their antidotes.  I remember thinking how ridiculous it was, since so few of the creatures we fight are susceptible to poison. But now I think that perhaps… perhaps his intention was not for me to use my knowledge against my Potential’s enemies.

I have never considered myself a murderer.  It is true that I’ve killed creatures- even men- before, but only those who sought to harm innocents, only in support of my brethren.

And yet.

And yet I keep hearing the Elders in the back of my mind, reminding me of the awful sacrifices that must be made in the name of the light.  Is not the Slayer line itself nothing more than a chain of living sacrifices, destined to be cut down time and again? Another rises, yes, but only to fall herself, letting another rise, and fall, and rise once more…

I wish I had a god to pray to, for I find myself in need of guidance.  A Slayer must sacrifice her life for the greater good, but what of her Watcher?  What precious thing must I relinquish?

Judith Slays Holofernes, Pt IX

At last she sighed heavily.

“I must pray on this, Ku-Aya, and ask the God of gods to reveal his will to me.”

“How will you know His will?” I asked, for again- I have never spoken with the Judaean god.  But, of course, that does not mean He does not speak to His followers. The Council’s records indicate that he is a sky god, primarily concerned with the doings of his chosen people, and does not bestir himself on the behalf of others- but he is powerful within his sphere, commanding storms, wind, and skyfire to devastating effect.

“I will know,” she said, simply, and I was left to be satisfied with that.

Now I wait, recording the events of these past few days, and contemplating what my ward said to me about children.  There is no doubt that her first duty is to her God, her second to her husband, and her third will be to her children, should she have them.  I might work her devotion to her god (well-known to abhor those creatures that dwell in darkness) to my advantage. But loyalty to family can only interfere with her Slayer duties- which is why, of course, we try to take Potentials as young as possible.

Damn Sennacherib, anyway.  Why could he not leave Babylon alone?  He is like a willful child, discontent with what he has, and unwilling to let others have anything he cannot himself possess.  Would that I could turn a Slayer on him and his demonic appetites.

But dwelling does me no good.  I shall turn my thoughts instead to the coming festival.  The barley harvest should begin within days and then, the other servants tell me, we shall celebrate the first fruits of the year with a week of feasting and song.  They say that Manessah himself works alongside the men, to show he does not feel himself above any in the service of their god. I find I have developed a grudging respect for my ward’s husband- he is a good man, not afraid of hard work, and with an open palm for any who need assistance.  And he is kind to his servants- myself included- and his young wife. If only he’d waited one more year to marry her.

Judith Slays Holofernes, Pt VIII

I was relieved at how quickly her mind worked, how quickly she was accepting what I said.

“Yes, precisely.  We are the mind that directs the body of the Slayer.”

“And yet you say I am not this Slayer?”

“Not yet, my lady.  But you might be.”

“But I also might not be,” she said, reasonably.  “And what does it mean, if I am never Called?”

“I-” my mind raced furiously.  What did it mean, if she was never called?  A lifetime of me Watching, waiting? In the Diaries I’d read, all Potentials were either Called, or killed waiting to be Called.  Either way, the lifespan of a Chosen One, chosen or not, was not long. But should I tell her that? I glanced up into her eyes, which held no fear, only patience, and I gave her a truth, if not all of it.  “No Potential has ever been Called past the age of five and twenty,” I said at last.

She gave this some consideration, staring into a distance I could not see.  “That is more than a decade away, Ku-Aya. I am very likely to have children before then.  It is my duty to my husband and the God of gods to increase the number of our people. How does it affect them, if I am Called?”

“Truthfully, my lady, I do not know.  Usually we find our Potentials before they are married, and we take them away for training.  But there was... an upset... in Babylon. It threw our Council into chaos, and we were not able to come for you as quickly as we’d have prefered.”

Her eyes turned back to mine, and she smiled with no mirth.  “An upset? You mean Sennacherib, of course.” I nodded, and she continued, “Yes, I can see how that might cause chaos.  He is a ravenous beast who will not be content until he’s devoured the world. Is he the evil you would have me fight?”

“The Slayer is not Called to fight the evils of men,” I said.  “That is left to other men. The Slayer fights demons and their ilk.  It is what they were created to do.”

“We are all of us created to stand against evil in whatever form it takes,” she said sharply.  “But I can see that it might be best to start with demons and work one’s way up to kings.”

Judith Slays Holofernes, Pt VII

I didn't get up early, and thus I am up much too late, working on this.  Finally getting things rolling, but only feeling so-so about it.  But that's the great thing about this time of year- I just slap it down and post it, no time for endless obsessing over it to "get it just right" before moving on...

That being said, there's a lot more research I want to do for this.  ::sigh::

***

She cocked her head to the side in response to this statement.

“I am called to be a servant to the God of gods, as we all are,” she said slowly.  “Sometimes I know what that means, and sometimes I do not. But what do you mean, Ku-Aya, when you say I am called to be a servant to mankind?”

“You are what my people call a Potential, my lady. It means we have seen signs that you might be the Chosen One.”

“The Messiah?”  Now her face held a trace of amusement, and I shook my head, for the Judaean word she used had religious overtones that I did not intend.

“Not the Chosen One your people foretell,” I said.  “The One you believe will save the entire world. No, the Chosen One I speak of is called Slayer, and it is always a girl- one girl in all the world, given the strength and skill to stand fast against the forces of darkness.”

She considered this for a moment, then asked, “Who does the choosing, then?  And who the giving?”

“We don’t know how the choosing occurs,” I said with a calm I did not truly feel, “Nor how the power transfers from the fallen Slayer to the newly Called.”

“Don’t you?” she smiled at me oddly.  “It is obvious to me, Ku-Aya, that if such a being as a Slayer exists, a power of good against evil, then it must be the God of gods who chooses her, and who also gives her the power.  But tell me- who are your people? For I thought you were Babylonian.”

“I am, my lady,” I said, “But when I refer to my people I mean the Watchers.  For as long as there has been a Slayer, there have been Watchers, people devoted to watching over them.”

“Surely that is not all you do,” she said dryly.  “For if there is only ever one Slayer at a time, that would leave a great many of you milling about.  And anyway, how is it you ‘watch over’ someone who is divinely blessed with strength and skill?”

“We also train them,” I said defensively.  “Being strong doesn’t do you much good if you don’t know exactly how to kill the beast you’re facing. But you’re right: most of the Watchers don’t have a Potential- usually we are in contact with no more than perhaps two dozen at any given time (although our scryers tell us there are more in lands too distant to contemplate).  The majority of Watchers are devoted to the pursuit and preservation of knowledge.”

At this she nodded.  “Yes, that make sense,” she said.  “And you mentioned your father casting a spell- you must also be students of magic, then.  Eldritch power to complement the physical power of the Slayer.”