The Testaments(76)

The person of an Aunt is supposed to be sacrosanct. No wonder Aunt Elizabeth was so upset by this violation, was the general opinion. The man must be a dangerous lunatic.

I’d obtained a photographic sequence secured through the mini-camera I had positioned within an attractive diagram of a full set of teeth. Should Elizabeth ever attempt to slip the leash, I could threaten to produce it as proof that she had lied.

Mr. William testified against Grove at the trial. He was no fool: he’d seen immediately that his boss was doomed. He described Grove’s rage at the moment of discovery. Fucking bitch was the epithet applied to Aunt Elizabeth by the fiendish Grove, he claimed. No such words had been uttered—in fact, Grove had said, “Why are you doing this?”—but William’s account was effective at the trial. Gasps from the listeners, which included the entire population of Ardua Hall: to call an Aunt such vulgar words was next door to blasphemy! Under questioning, William reluctantly admitted that he’d had some reason to suspect his employer of irregularities in the past. Anaesthetics, he said sadly, could be such a temptation in the wrong hands.

What could Grove say in his own defence except that he was innocent of the charge and then quote the Bible on the subject of that well-known false-rape accuser, Potiphar’s wife? Innocent men denying their guilt sound exactly like guilty men, as I am sure you have noticed, my reader. Listeners are inclined to believe neither.

Grove could hardly admit that he would never have laid a lecherous finger on Aunt Elizabeth since he was only aroused by underage girls.



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In view of Aunt Elizabeth’s exceptional performance, I felt it more than fair that she be allowed to conduct the Particicution proceedings at the stadium. Grove was the second to be dispatched. He had to watch as the Angel was kicked to death and then literally torn apart by seventy shrieking Handmaids.

As he was led out to the field, arms pinioned, he screamed, “I didn’t do it!” Aunt Elizabeth, the picture of outraged virtue, sternly blew the whistle. In two minutes Dr. Grove was no more. Fists were raised, clutching clumps of bloodied hair torn out by the roots.

The Aunts and Supplicants were all present, to support the vindication of one of Ardua Hall’s revered Founders. Off to one side were the newly recruited Pearls; they’d arrived only the day before, so this was a baptismal moment for them. I scanned their young faces but at that distance could not read them. Revulsion? Relish? Repugnance? It is always good to know. The Pearl of the greatest price was among them; right after the sporting event we were about to witness, I would place her in the dwelling unit that would be best for my purposes.

While Grove was being reduced to a slurry by the Handmaids, Aunt Immortelle fainted, which was to be expected: she was always sensitive. I expect she will now blame herself in some way: however despicably he behaved, Grove was nevertheless cast in the role of her father.

Commander Judd switched off the television and sighed. “A pity,” he said. “He was a fine dentist.”

“Yes,” I said. “But sins must not be overlooked simply because the sinner is skilled.”

“Was he really guilty?” he asked with mild interest.

“Yes,” I said, “but not of that. He would not have been capable of raping Aunt Elizabeth. He was a pedophile.”

Commander Judd sighed again. “Poor man,” he said. “It is a severe affliction. We must pray for his soul.”

“Indeed,” I said. “But he was ruining too many young girls for marriage. Rather than accepting wedlock, the precious flowers were deserting to the Aunts.”

“Ah,” he said. “Was that the case with the girl Agnes? I thought there must have been something like that.”

He wanted me to say yes because then her aversion would not have been to him personally. “I can’t be sure,” I said. His face fell. “But I believe so.” It doesn’t do to push him too far.

“Your judgment can always be relied on, Aunt Lydia,” he said. “In this matter of Grove, you’ve made the best choice for Gilead.”

“Thank you. I pray for guidance,” I said. “But, to change the subject, I am happy to inform you that Baby Nicole has now been safely imported into Gilead.”

“What a coup! Well done!” he said.

“My Pearl Girls were very effective,” I said. “They followed my orders. They took her under their wings as a new convert, and convinced her to join us. They were able to buy off the young man who’d acquired an influence over her. Aunt Beatrice did the bargaining, although she was, of course, not aware of Baby Nicole’s real identity.”

“But you were, dear Aunt Lydia,” he said. “How did you manage to identify her? My Eyes have been trying for years.” Did I detect a note of envy or, worse, of suspicion? I breezed past it.

“I have my little ways. And some helpful informants,” I lied. “Two and two do sometimes add up to four. And we women, myopic as we are, often notice the finer details that may escape the broader and loftier views of men. But Aunt Beatrice and Aunt Dove were told only that they should be on the watch for a specific tattoo that the poor child had inflicted upon herself. And luckily, they found her.”

“A self-inflicted tattoo? Depraved, like all those girls. On what part of her body?” he asked with interest.