Piercing the Heart

- .One . -

Four more days until her wedding, and Irada felt nothing but pain.

Not physical pain of course, her father could not afford to give her any fresh scars so close to the wedding. For the time being, Irada was free from whippings, burns and from vicious kicks. The pain she felt was in her heart; it was a constant aching sensation. And as the dreaded date came closer, the pain grew.

"Irada stop squirming! The tailors are starting to complain."

"Yes father, I will stop immediately."

The men in Tureos cared nothing for women. To them, a woman was as treasured as a lame donkey. Men reigned, while women were forced to do all the tasks they did not want. Such as, tending the fields, cleaning the houses, and burning the dead. Many women did not live in homes, or even got to eat meals. They were starved, like dogs.

It had been that way before Irada was born, before her mother was born. For over a century women were slaves.

Irada's father started to twist the rings on his fingers, and soon none of the gems were visible, only the golden bands shone as the tailors took the wedding dress into the back room. "Blayne will make a fine son. He is the best hunter in our village," Irada's father tipped one of the tailors. "And his family is one of the richest."

"He is almost twice my age, it doesn't seem-"

Irada was silenced with a sharp slap. The black gems on her father's large rings dug into her face, warm blood started to trickle down her cheek.

"Shut up, you wretch. Twenty six is not a large number."

"But I'm only fourtee-"

Another slap joined the first one. The right side of Irada's face became numb; she could not feel a thing as she placed a pale hand on her injured cheek. Tears welled up in her dark eyes, as she forced herself to keep quiet.

"Blayne will make a good husband. I'm sure he won't hit you more that four times a day. Maybe less if you produce a son. I have promised his father that you are a hard worker, and your back is very strong." He grabbed Irada roughly, as they started on the road home. "I did not mention your sharp tongue, and I hope I will not have to."

"I will do as you wish father, I will work hard for my husband."

"As should every woman."

-…-

Irada slept in the barn, as she did every night. Her father kept the spare rooms open and available for his friends. They came into the house at different times during the night; most of them were drunk. Irada could remember a time, two years ago, when she had just turned twelve; one of her father's friends had grabbed her.

"Were do yah dink yah goin' lil…liddle…girl?"

"Please sir, I just wanted to get a blanket. It is terribly cold in the barn rafters."

"The rafders? Ha ha. You should be glad, glad…you've got somewhere do sleep. Inconsiderate liddle…"

"Please sir."

Now he had started to approach her, reaching out to grab her. Missing every time.

"Yah know. Deh only thing uses women are good for, is for work, and given' bird to strong men. Yah nod even old enough for dat." He had laughed while his big belly shook. Irada had taken that time to slip away.

After that night Irada was changed. Hardened. She slept through the bitter winters without any covers, and her body grew strong and accustomed to the conditions. She also thought a lot, about a time when women and men were treated equal, when they shared the work. But even as she thought those wild fantasies, she knew in her heart, it was all a lie.

Irada welcomed mornings. Though it meant nothing but a day of labor ahead, she enjoyed feeling the presence of sun of her face as she started out on her chores.

Three days.

Irada scrubbed the floor mercilessly. She didn't care to put her mind into the work. Her body had continued to scrub harshly, while her mind raced.

It was just a dream. A little, meaningless dream that she would never had thought of, never in all her lifetime. She had never made such a daring, bold, maniacal, and sneaky plan in all her life. But, the longer Irada held the picture in her head, the clearer it became. It was her only choice, to flee, or to become a slave, doomed to a long, cruel life. The dream had not scared her; it was what she was doing in the dream. It was preposterous!

Yet, no dream of hers had been clearer. All she had to do was pack a few belongings, perhaps steal a few gold coins from her father…

She shook her head, causing long dark curls to fall behind her shoulders. To escape, she was sure she would be caught before she reached the village gates. The men would hear her father yelling for her, and send their dogs.

But even as her mind kept telling her it was impossible, Irada's heart was telling her, forcing her to accept the fact, that she had to try.

Three days, Irada thought. That leaves me two days to plan.

Sighing, she continued to work. By mid-day Irada had finished all of her chores. Her father also noticed how quick her work had been completed.

"You've finished early," he observed.

"Yes, well…we need more meal. And cream, and eggs, and-"

"Fine, hurry then. And bring some rum while you're at it. Robert finished the last of it yesterday, that man can sure put it away…"

"Yes father," Irada grabbed a wicker basket that lay by the door. "I'll be back by evening."

With that, she slipped out of the house to the village's market, on her way to buy tools needed for her freedom.

-…-