Taxiau (TAHX-EE-OW): Goddess of deceit, trickery, poison and lies. Sister of the sun god Fareik and the one believed to have created the crimson moon Sartha. Often cursed
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The aging priest's wavering voice echoed in the fane as he continued a sermon in the late autumn morning.
"What Fareik has combined, man should never sunder. The marriage of a husband to his wife is sacred. To remind us, I read from the fifth chapter of the Faitome." He paused for only a moment before continuing. "On the 5th of Weiterbstmonat we will celebrate Herbleichsundai. There will be a festival in the village square. Everyone should wear dark orange and red colors to match-"
A woman in a blue robe, a hood and wimple over her head, rushed across the chancel to the priest's side and whispered in his ear. He stopped. She opened the tome on the lectern to a place marked with a yellow ribbon, then she walked off before he began.
The father of all... Jemein begot Seiver. Seiver begot Wotai. Wotai begot Antai. Antai begot-
The woman zipped back to the dais and pointed to a place on the opposite page to where the priest was reading.
"Ah," he said with a nod. Again she walked off, this time with a pained sigh and a shake of her head.
My faithful servants, do not give in to the temptations of others. You shall rebuff the romantic advances of all save your wedded. To allow others in your bed for reasons of pleasure is a grave sin. You must lie in bed with only your wedded. It was by my blessing that you were married. To lie with another is an affront.
Husbands, do not stand idly by your wives. Women are fertile soil of desire for a man's seed, and must be guarded and controlled to prevent the corruption of their flesh by others.
Husbands, if your wife cannot conceive a child, only then may you lie with another to produce an heir. You must be blessed in my temple before such an act. To do so without my blessing is considered a grave offense and equal to infidelity, punishable by death.
Those that defy the blessing of Fareik are equal to the lowest animal and shall be publicly put to death. Your neighbors are to carry out your execution. They shall tightly lash you to the tallest tree with bonds so that you cannot escape. Your neighbors shall gather stones no larger than a dew-melon in a pile near the tree. Those in attendance shall throw stones until you are dead.
"So says the book of light," he droned, finishing the reading from the tome.
"Fareik illuminates all," they said in response. Suetaera had turned quite pale.
The priest closed his eyes and the congregation did the same. He began a short prayer entreating Fareik, the sun god, for good fortune in the coming week. After, all the men filed out of the stone building before the women.
Ogunof, the strapping peasant who had met Suetaera in the woods many days ago, stood outside speaking to a man with graying hair. He glanced at the entrance of the nave and his eyes brightened when Suetaera appeared. He briefly said farewell to the man that was barely holding his attention. Staring at Suetaera, he made a big motion of scratching the top of his head. He looked for her recognition, but there was nothing, she simply strolled forward to her husband's side. They began to walk towards the manor across the village square. The peasants, except for those servants working in the manor, went back to the village. Ogunof trailed far behind Suetaera and Ishdermein. He coughed and did a big motion of scratching his head again, and again. Once his cough was so loud that Ishdermein turned around. Ogunof immediately turned towards the village, walking away.
* *
In the early morning of the next day, Suetaera sputtered against an oak tree, spitting brown liquid and half-digested carrots to the ground in a sloppy mess. She held herself there, sighing with relief. When a humming voice came through the copse of evergreens, she hid behind the thick trunk. A tickling caught the back of her throat, and the humming stopped when Suetaera coughed loudly.
"Mistress Suetaera is that you?"
Suetaera weakly looked up past the trunk of the oak tree to see a tall woman holding a bundle of sticks. She had small blue eyes, thin lips, long black hair and a hooked nose. Suetaera stood up straight, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Hello Heilgi. Sorry, I-"
"Are you alright mistress?" the woman asked with concern.
"Yes fine, thank you," she replied with a dismissive hand as she suppressed another cough.
"Have you taken ill again?" Heilgi asked.
"A... again? Ugh," she hacked.
"Yes I heard you disgorging yesterday morning as well, although I didn't say anything. Wait.. are you... are you with child?" she asked with slight joy in the discovery.
"No...no I.. I can't be," Suetaera said with fright and denial.
"I wasn't sick at all with my first, but it was every morning for almost two weeks straight with my second. How many days have you been disgorging? And your blumfealvoach (Deiru word for menstruation) has been late?" Heilgi asked curiously.
"I've been sick for three days. And it's been..." she sighed heavily in realization, "almost two months since my last blumfealvoach."
"Congratulations," Heilgi smiled. "I know you've both had quite a time of it. You'll make a great mother."
"Uh... thank you Heilgi, but please... don't tell anyone. I'm sure that... my husband will want to make the announcement."
"Oh by all means. I will take my leave." The woman bowed slightly.
"And Heilgi, please don't mention anything to him either. He may get cross that you found out."
"Yes, yes mistress."
The peasant carried her bundle of sticks deeper into the brush, bending down occasionally to gather more as she started mirthfully humming. Suetaera darted past her, back to the manor. The sun began its ascent as she entered quietly into the tall edifice. She moved with celerity toward the fire where she noticed Femuh bouncing Gienmeid, the lord's grandchild on her knee. Suetaera's husband, the bailiff Ishdermein, entered the main hall and adjusted his coat, removing faint dirt from the sleeve. He turned to his wife.
"Suetaera, come here," he ordered.
She approached obediently.
"You look a bit pale," he remarked.
"Oh yes... I was helping Heilgi collect wood. I... I was getting a bit cold," she lied. "I... I should help in the kitchen now." She turned away from him with haste.
"Wait, my wife," he said.
"Yes?" She paused and bowed her head in an obsequious manner. He took her hand, leading her to a distant wall away from the others before looking into her eyes.
"Are you alright? The servants say you have been frequently away," he said softly.
"I... I think I ate something off. Nothing more than old bread."
"I see. Is it not because of m-me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"You? Why... why?"
"Do you... Do you despise me?" he asked, suddenly forlorn.
"N-no," she said with a surprised expression.
"You must... I'm sorry I cannot give you a child." He closed his eyes and turned away. "I curse that horse... every day for causing my impotence," he groused.
"It was only awful luck," she countered.
"I have thought about asking the priest to grant us a divorce, but-"
"You have? Well..." she looked suddenly hopeful.
"But it warms my heart that you still are pledged to me."
"Yes, but-" she began.
"Quiet, I'm talking," he said suddenly. She bowed her head. "Even so, I have grown too fond of you," he said with a smile. He pressed his hand to her face. "Till death for us." Although the words could have sounded sinister, he meant them genuinely. He bowed his head and pressed it to hers gently.
"Yes," she replied weakly, a frown across her face.
"Go see to the food preparation," he said suddenly as his face became more solemn.
"Yes husband."
Suetaera entered the small cooking area, and started cutting radishes. The servant Heilgi entered the kitchen with a smile. A young woman entered right behind, a few logs in her arms.
"Hello Lady Suetetara," Heilgi said.
"Hello Heilgi. Hello Sanga." Suetaera her.
"Greetings m'lady," said the maiden beside Heilgi with a smile.
"How are you?"
"Good. Uh... congratulations on your baby."
"Uh..." Suetaera looked at Sanga solemnly. The girl covered her mouth in regret.
