Madlenka sees through the cracks
26th November 1102
There was a timid knock at the door.
“Come in, “ Madlenka called out softly, reluctant to wake Kendrick.
The door creaked open, admitting Nyawe. Since when had Nyawe ever knocked timidly? Her knocks were an assertion, a defiant thumping of the door announcing to the world that she, Nyawe was entering the room and they had all better take notice.
“Sorry, did I wake you,” she murmured, half hidden by the thick folds of the drapes.
“No, no. I was just lying here thinking a bit. Kendrick is still asleep though”, she nodded towards the cradle.
Nyawe shuffled to the centre of the room, positioning herself in front of the bed. Nyawe did not shuffle, she swayed, she paraded, she strutted.
She stood now, in the centre of the room, her face crumpled like a tragic mask. The curtains framed her, an actor on the stage moments before delivering the sorrowful monologue of his career.
“Nyawe dear, whatever is wrong?” she cried softly, hurriedly climbing from the bed and rushing to her friend’s side.
She was hunched over, her shoulders slumped defeatedly. Nyawe did not hunch and slump, she stood tall, proud and defiant. Something was very wrong.
“I think,” she mumbled, “that Garald is having an affair.”
Her hands flew up to her mouth as though to trap the words that every woman dreaded hearing. But it was too late, they had already slid from her mouth in a mournful phrase and now the room was still with their weighty significance.
Madlenka was frozen in place for a moment, unsure of what to do, trying to organise thoughts that were flitting between pity, anger and guilt at her own happiness.
Nyawe stood before her, statuesque, an expression carved out of grief by hands that knew all the right tools to use.
Suddenly with a heartrending sob, her face crumpled, hand flying up in shame to hide the cracks and warps.
“Oh honey,” Madlenka cried, rushing to put her arms around her friend’s shaking shoulders.
She was deeply unnerved. Madlenka could not remember a time when she had ever seen her friend like this. Even when they had fought as teenagers, huge raging arguments. She would shriek and rant and sob until her eyes were puffy and her nose was red, but Nyawe would only grow ever more icy, her words becoming harsher and colder until they pierced like icicles exactly in the very softest spot.
She knew what to do with that Nyawe, knew that she would be the one to apologise first and then everything would be fine again. She had never realised how brittle indeed ice was, and how one sure strike in the right place would fracture it into a thousand, sparkling pieces. She had never realised how soft and fragile the inside was, all melt water sloshing around.
“Are you sure honey? Did you catch him at it?” suddenly she realised that if there was an affair, then there must be another person involved.
Nyawe suddenly stiffened, freezing beneath her touch, pulling away with only a slight sticking as Madlenka tried to hold her.
“No I did not,” she scowled, “but he as good as confessed it. He has to abstain for a month as penance for some sin he has committed. What else could he possibly have done?”
Madlenka tried to come up with something but couldn’t. It did indeed sound like he must have committed some indiscretion though she had no knowledge of the workings of manly sins and the type of penance they might require.
“I just feel so stupid,” Nyawe snarled, “all this time thinking he thought me ugly when all the while he’s been getting his jollys with some slut on the side. No wonder he didn’t want me. He was all used up by the time it came to me.”
“And to think. I could have done it to him but decided not to. Because I didn’t want to hurt him. How stupid was that?”
Madlenka’s eyes widened, “What do you mean, you could have?”
“Well… I had the opportunity, well and truly thrust shall we say at me in a quite repetitive manner. I should have just done it. Lord knows at least I would have had a bit of fun.”
Madlenka felt rather awkward and out of her league with this but she had to ask, “Er… who was being repetitively thrust at you?”
She had an idea of who it might be. There was that guard, the handsome one that had been scarred so terribly who had been hanging around Nyawe like she was a dog on heat.
Nyawe actually blushed slighty, “Oh well, you know… it was that Sir Hwratar.”
Madlenka tried to contain an unbidden snort of laughter but it did her no good.
“Alexis”, she giggled, “but he has such a ridiculous little moustache.”
“I’ll have you know, he is a rather handsome man,” Nyawe snapped, puffing up like an angry cat, “and a rather good kisser.”
“You kissed him!” Madlenka squealed, “What was it like?! Oh Nyawe, did his silly moustache tickle your lips!”
Nyawe stared grumpily at her and then suddenly she burst into giggles.
“Yes, yes it did tickle most monstrously. I wished he would have shaved the bloody thing off and be done with it.”
“Ugh, oh really ugh.”
“But you know honey, sometimes there is something to be said for a tickly moustache depending on where exactly the man is kissing”, she drawled.
“Oh no Nyawe no!” Madlenka shrieked, shaking with helpless laughter, “now I shall have simply awful nightmares!”
“Maddy,” Nyawe stopped, suddenly sombre, “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”
Madlenka threw her arms around her dearest friend, “Only every other day sweetie.”
She thinks he’s having an affair? Ack! So… if she thought that was the sin, what did she think of the rape? I’m slightly confused, but I can see why she’d think he was having the affair.
Heh. Madlenka’s views on Alexis’ mustache… so true
Should be interesting to see how the queen gets to the bottom of all this drama. She doesn’t seem like the type to just let her friend’s husband sleep around
The thing is Van, Nyawe didn’t think of what happened as rape. She didn’t try to stop him, didn’t want to stop him. I mean, no definitely means no but sometimes just because you say no you don’t feel like it at first, doesn’t mean if things get going a bit later that you don’t want to (does that make any sense, I feel a bit silly writing this
). If Nyawe had said, “no Garald, I don’t want to”, when he started then and he continued it would be rape, but she said nothing (and it turned out enjoyed herself). It was painful for her yes, but I think no matter what the first time after having a baby will be painful.
I don’t think that Garald raped her. Nyawe doesn’t think that Garald raped her. Even Harndall doesn’t really think that he raped her (since technically in those times you couldn’t rape you wife since you were only taking something you owned). Poor Garald is the only one who thinks he raped her. I guess I didn’t make that clear enough, but this is why it is such a phenomenal misunderstanding. Maybe the last chapter will make more sense with that in mind. In Nyawe’s mind, she and Garald are back on board. He desires her again. So the first opportunity she gets she tries to drag him back in sack. And all of a sudden he is telling her he must abstain. He thinks she will understand because he thinks he raped her and thinks she thinks that too. That thought, on the other hand, has never crossed her mind and all of a sudden her husband is abstaining for some reason and the only one she can think of is adultery. And all the dominoes are falling into place since his desire for her (in her mind) has been limited to nothing. Phew… I hope this all makes sense. I realise now that maybe I didn’t write this so well. I managed to get you guys mixed up in the misunderstanding too!
Oh, okay, I get it now. I just reread the “rape” scene, and yeah, she enjoyed it after a while. I’d totally forgotten about that–I thought she thought it was rape.
Ahhh, I was worried this was going to happen. A gigantic, uber misunderstanding of truly epic proportions. Garald thinks he’s wronged Nyawe and Nyawe thinks he’s out hopping into some other woman’s bed. Sigh. These two need to try TALKING to each other. It would prove most helpful in keeping us dear readers from going mad.
I had to giggle at Madlenka and Nyawe’s little discussion about Alexis’ tickly mustache. That’s hilarious!
Unfortunately, it hasn’t solved the grave misunderstanding. Hopefully something will before this gets out of hand!
I for one totally understood what was going on, Verity, don’t sweat it.
It reminds me of Vash’s question: can you rape someone who is willing? If Gerald thought it was rape, was it not? It may not be inappropriate for him to be doing penance or whatever, since he feels like he committed a crime. It’s just… oh, if only he would tell her why. Why doesn’t he APOLOGIZE instead of just secretly doing penance for an unnamed crime? It would clear everything up.
So funny about Alexis’s mustache.
Why doesn’t some just tell HIM?