Miranda and Caliban(44)
He sounds proud of himself, as though this is some difficult problem he has solved. “Yes, Papa.”
“When a pouch will absorb no more of the menstruum, place it in the jar and notify me,” he continues. “You may knock upon the door of my sanctum, leave the jar in the hallway, and depart. I will take custody of the jar and its contents and return it to you. Is that clear enough, child?”
I nod. “Yes, Papa.”
“Tonight is the first night of the waning moon, which is to the good,” Papa muses. “It means your womb reaches fullness in accordance with Luna herself, and your menstruum shall be all the more powerful for it. And if your cycle remains constant and true, as I hope it does, you shall know that your courses will commence each month when Luna begins to wane.”
I find a faint ray of hope in his words. “Then I shan’t always bleed henceforth, Papa?”
“Always?” He chuckles. “No, of course not. Your courses will come upon you once a month and last for several days, mayhap a week. You must notify me if they last longer.”
“Yes, Papa,” I say.
Papa smiles at me. “Very good. And when your courses have concluded this month, we will speak of your assisting me in my sanctum.” He pauses, waiting for me to respond. I look at the floor and do not say anything. Although I once yearned for it above all else, now the thought of entering Papa’s sanctum fills me with quiet dread. His smile fades. “Understand that you must never enter without permission, and not at all when your courses are upon you. Never. At such a time, your very gaze could pollute the delicate working of my art.” He pauses again. “Miranda, may I trust that I have impressed upon you how vital it is that you observe these strictures with the utmost scruple?”
I choke back a bitter bark of laughter.
I should like to say, Yes, Papa, you may be sure of it, for I have no desire to invoke your wrath. I do not wish to return to the helplessness of childhood and spend another year of my life learning to walk and talk anew.
“Yes,” I murmur instead. “Of course.” And yet I cannot keep my peace, not wholly. I steal a glance at him. “Papa, if you knew this day would come, why did you not tell me?”
He furrows his brow. “But we have spoken of it often, Miranda.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You told me often that one day I would be a woman grown. You told me I would know. You did not tell me I should know it by the sign of pain and blood.” My voice rises, taking on a shrill note once more. “How was I to know? Why did you not tell me it would be this?”
Papa’s expression turns stern and his hand rises to take hold of my amulet. “Calm yourself, child!”
I fall silent, my body stiffening in terror and my bladder threatening to void itself in a hot gush.
“It was not always thus for womankind,” Papa says. “In the Garden of Eden, our foremother Eve knew no such travail.” His voice deepens as he lets go the amulet and quotes from the Holy Bible. “And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed. But what transpired?”
I look away. “Eve disobeyed God. She ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and Adam did, too.”
Papa nods. “Indeed. And as God cast them forth from Eden for their disobedience, he said unto Eve, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children, and thy desire shall be unto thy husband, and he shall rule over thee. It is Eve’s punishment you endure, child.”
“But I am not guilty of Eve’s sin,” I protest in a low whisper; yet even as the words leave my mouth, I know that they are untrue. I succumbed to Ariel’s temptation even as Eve succumbed to that of the serpent in the garden. I disobeyed Papa as surely as Eve disobeyed God.
I have been punished for it.
Years later, I am still being punished for it.
“All of humankind bears the cost of Eve’s sin, Miranda,” Papa says dryly. “Women are weak in body and will. I suggest you use this time to contemplate the price of disobedience.”
I say nothing.
Papa glances at the pinkish water in my wash-basin. “If you bathe yourself when your courses are upon you, you must dispose of the leavings thusly. Empty the basin on barren ground facing east and rinse it clean in running water; water from the stream, not water drawn from the well or a fountain where traces of the menstruum may linger and taint the elemental spirits. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Very well.” He sets down his bundle. “Then I shall leave you to attend to the business of womankind, daughter.”
Now I want nothing more than for him to go and leave me alone with my shame and uncleanliness; and yet there is one last fear niggling at me. “Papa?”
He pauses. “Yes?”
“You’re not angry at Caliban for disturbing you, are you?” I ask him. “It’s only that he was afraid for me.”
“Angry?” Papa frowns. “No. Our wild lad’s concern was misplaced, but I do not blame him for it.”
I sigh with relief. “I am glad.”
TWENTY-FOUR
CALIBAN
Oh, Setebos!
I have seen a thing I should not have seen.
I do not think this the very first thing when it happens, no; I do not think it at all. I think only that Miranda is hurt and scared, and I have not seen her so since she woke oh, so many years ago after Master did punish her and she almost did die. Only then I did know how to help, how to help Miranda walk and grow strong and find the words she has lost, how to help Miranda be Miranda again, and she did understand and let me.