AHMM, December 2009 (3 page)

"I don't mean to be offensive, but have you noticed how moody Sheela has become?” Anita asked, changing the topic.

If Anita had wanted to shut down Parvati, there could be no better way. Instead of a flash of anger or resentment at being asked to feel sympathy for the woman her husband had intended to marry, Parvati withdrew emotionally, her face turning blank, then cold. “She reacts too strongly to things."

"Really?” Anita leaned forward, hoping for more.

"That figure. It was only a folk art piece, but instead she blames it for everything that has gone wrong in her life. She would blame my husband, Karunkar, for it if she hadn't known him since childhood."

"Why blame Karunkar?"

"I bought it for a gift sometime in the future, but he gave it to Bharat on a whim.” She shrugged, then, unable to hide her feelings any longer, moved to sit sideways in her chair to look out the window.

"So Karunkar took it there?” Anita said more to herself. “You are not from here, are you?"

Parvati relaxed at the question and shook her head. “Pune. A real city. Not like this godforsaken place.” Oddly enough, Parvati didn't sound bitter, just hugely disappointed and resigned. “He promised me after we were married that we would be here only a few months, while he moved up the ladder, and then he would get a better position elsewhere."

"But?"

"But he doesn't talk about it anymore, and when I bring it up, well...” She sighed. “Is it wonderfully busy where you live, in the hotel?"

Her curiosity was intense, almost pathetic in its neediness to know about something outside of this little village. Anita told her about Hotel Delite, some of the staff members who were especially colorful, and Auntie Meena, who was right then probably hiding in a linen closet to get away from some of the more demanding guests. “Perhaps you'll have children soon,” Anita said, feeling sorry for Parvati in her loneliness.

"I doubt it.” The other woman blushed deeply. “He doesn't fancy me so much."

Anita set off for Sheela's house before she realized she had taken the wrong path. The lanes in this area were well worn down, but they twisted and turned and crisscrossed through forests and over brooks; anyone could set out, take the wrong turning, and get lost from view—and then no one could know for sure where the person had gone. Two main paths skirted the tank, and anyone could approach it without being seen.

Anita found Sheela curled up on her bed, her eyes open. When she saw Anita enter, the other woman rolled over and stared at the wall. Anita closed the door and sat down on the bed.

"You have to talk to me, Sheela. Something terrible has happened."

"What?” Her voice was about as dull as Anita had ever heard it, equal parts pouting and lack of interest.

"The man who was killed this morning, the sorcerer."

"Yes, terrible. I'm sorry he's dead. We'll make a donation to help his wife. Now you can go away.” She pulled the end of her sari over her head.

"That's not what's so terrible about it.” Anita waited but Sheela continued to stare at the wall. “How long have you and Karunkar been having an affair?” Anita was gratified to hear a small gasp. Sheela rolled over and raised herself on her elbow.

"Why are you saying this?"

"I saw you yesterday, in the village, and Karunkar.” Anita watched Sheela's pretty mocha coloring turn gray and sickly, and her eyes widen.

"Ayoo! Did you, ah, tell anyone?"

"Like Bharat?"

Sheela nodded.

"No. But that's not the worst part."

"What could be worse?” Sheela sat up, swinging her head from side to side. “I am glad you know. I am so alone here with this secret. It is a terrible thing I have done, but even worse is what I did before. I married Bharat on a whim, to show how modern I was, to have a marriage of the heart. But the heart is weak, the heart is unreliable. The heart has no sense. And now I have nothing, not his heart and not my own."

"What do you mean not his heart?"

"He thinks Karunkar is trying to ruin us. He thinks there is something wrong that I have such friends. Even my mother is suspect now because she still thinks Karunkar is a good man. Everything is awful.” With no role to play, no need to conceal the truth of her circumstances, Sheela began to cry, wiping her eyes with the end of her sari.

"And everything is going to get worse,” Anita said. “Excuse me, I have to make a telephone call.” She pulled out her cell and left the room.

In the middle of the midday meal, Remy came flying through the front door. “How can you eat? Have you not heard?” Anita kept on eating. “It is horrible, horrible!"

"Calm down, Ammaji,” Bharat said, standing up and offering her a chair.

"My maidservant told me just now. Karunkar has been arrested for the murder of that sorcerer found near the tank. He is in the jail!"

"Really?” Bharat sat down, resuming his meal, as though Remy had announced nothing more than a change in the bus schedule. He selected the best portion of sambar for his idlies, his eyes on his food.

"No, Amma, he couldn't have! He wouldn't!” Sheela was too stunned to do anything but repeat herself.

"I'm afraid it's true.” Remy fell into a chair, shaking her head, mumbling about the horror of it all. “They took him from his house. Poor Parvati! She must be beside herself."

"Perhaps it is only to ask him questions,” Sheela said, growing agitated.

"You can ask them when the constables come here,” Anita said.

"Here!” Both Sheela and Remy stared at her.

"Yes, why would they come here?” Bharat said, suddenly alert. His tone was sharp, and his look was fierce, a change in his personality Anita would not have predicted when she first met him. At their wedding he seemed such a mild, gentle sort, and she worried only that he wouldn't be able to keep Sheela from going off on a dozen different tangents. But she had been wrong—he had depths she hadn't imagined.

"Karunkar did indeed kill the sorcerer, but he will claim self-defense,” Anita said. The other women protested again. “And they will want you as a witness, Bharat."

"Me? What can I tell them? If he has done this, the crime is solved."

"Why he would kill a sorcerer, in the first place,” Anita said. Bharat began to rise, but Anita raised her hand. “I wouldn't bother leaving, Bharat. The police will be here shortly."

Bharat stiffened, then trembled, but slowly lowered himself into his seat.

Remy grabbed Anita's wrist. “Tell me!” She shushed her daughter, and jerked Anita's arm closer to her.

"It was the teeth that got me,” Anita said. “Why would anyone bother to knock out someone's teeth after they were dead? I could see bits of his teeth on the ground and in his mouth, so it obviously happened after he was strangled. And why was he strangled with muddy hands?"

"I do not believe this,” Remy said. “I have known Karunkar all his life. He was to marry Sheela. Would we make a mistake like that?"

"You didn't make a mistake,” Anita said. “Karunkar accepted the marriage of Sheela and Bharat, and he married as was expected of him, to a woman who loves him passionately. But Sheela and Karunkar could not ignore their feelings for each other. When Karunkar gave Bharat the antique wooden figure that Parvati found in an old shop, he didn't think anything about it, but Bharat did. To him it was not a sign of friendship. It was a sign of hostility, a warning that a sorcerer was working against him and Sheela, and he saw all the bad things that happened as Karunkar's fault."

"Nonsense, Karunkar wouldn't do that, he wouldn't.” Sheela pressed her hands against her chest, imploring Anita.

"You don't know him in business,” Bharat said. “Look how he has taken my position, my rises.” He gave his wife a cold stare, so cold even Remy flinched.

"So you decided to get even,” Anita said to Bharat. “You hired the sorcerer to cast a spell on Karunkar that would ruin him. The sorcerer lay in wait for Karunkar at the tank where he did his morning puja, and began to do his work, but Karunkar had come to believe the figure with the iron nails perhaps was evil, and he didn't dare let the sorcerer do even more harm. He tried to stop him, and when the sorcerer wouldn't stop the curses, Karunkar stuffed his mouth with mud so the words wouldn't come out; the sorcerer choked to death.” Anita paused, thinking about Karunkar's dirt-stained fingernails when they shook hands that morning.

"And then he had to break the teeth,” Remy said in a soft voice. “The sorcerer is only as good as his words, isn't he? And his words must be perfectly articulated. Once his teeth are broken in death, his spirit cannot torment anyone, especially Karunkar.” Remy slowly shook her head, a single tear forming and sliding down her cheek.

"You did this?” Sheela turned to her husband, “You did this to Karunkar?” and in a second she lunged at him with her hands outstretched, her nails cutting deep into his cheeks. Her wails greeted the police.

The following morning Anita crossed the road to the bus stand and dropped her suitcase next to Parvati's. The other woman offered an embarrassed smile and a shrug.

"My mother has insisted I return home during this difficult time,” Parvati said. “I am glad to do so. I have considered the question of loyalty, and I am concluding that I am free to go. My husband has placed his heart and his loyalty elsewhere. Besides, he has loving family here and I do not.” This was a long speech, and Parvati's voice grew softer and softer as other villagers arrived to wait for the bus. “Is it so lovely, your Hotel Delite?"

"It will be after my Auntie Meena calms down. Auntie Remy has given her the news about Sheela and Karunkar and Bharat, and I know what Meena will say."

Parvati arched an eyebrow. “She will be so disapproving of the good you have done?"

"She will believe I was the cause of it all, that I brought the bad luck with me.” Anita laughed. “You have to love someone who thinks I have that much power in life."

Copyright © 2009 Susan Oleksiw

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Colm was not very pleased that Bjorn wanted him to go along to Althing that summer; he would rather tend his sheep. But no slave could ignore his master's bidding. And the fact that Bjorn wanted him along hinted that the man might be weighing him as a potential retainer, a free man who would support Bjorn and help him to become more important. “Free” being the operative word here. So it wasn't all bad. Even so, Colm would rather stay with his sheep. He wished his two lambs to increase to a flock and the flock increase to the point where he could buy his freedom.

The day before riding out to Althing, Colm went up to the shieling to take Edgar some provisions—a bowl of
skyr
for now and a lump of cheese and strip of dried mutton for the next week or so. Edgar had no teeth left but he could gum at the meat and it would last all the longer. The old man sat with his face raised to the sun, warming himself like a toad on a rock. He grinned at Colm, his wide toothless mouth spread in pleasure. Colm smiled back and was glad to see the old man's joy at being in the sun and having a useful task to do. Edgar, too, was a slave. He owned no sheep, though, owned nothing, not even his own body, which might be sacrificed to some pagan god whenever it had no other use.

Colm caught sight of the flock grazing twenty yards or so downslope from a patch of snow. They would work up the mountainside as it thawed. Colm didn't have to check the earmarks to know which were his and which belonged to others; he knew his lambs by sight even at a distance. The sheep cropped at the bright green new grass, and Colm imagined it all going to fat and wool and meat as he watched and willed his two small animals to put on weight.

A great old wether, guardian of the flock, raised its head and studied Colm. Deciding he was no danger, the wether lowered his head back into the grass. Colm relished the peaceful scene and wished with all his heart that he could stay and be part of it. But his heart was so full of wishes already, he could never live long enough to see them all granted. Colm bid old Edgar good day and went back down to Bjorn's farm to do chores for his master.

In the morning, Bjorn told Colm to take a horse for himself. That was something! Saddle or no, it was better to ride to Althing than run along behind the mounted freemen.

Then Bjorn surprised him further. “It might be useful if you could find a weapon,” he said. It was not a usual practice to allow a slave to be armed. Of course, Colm had a weapon hidden away, a single-edged scramasax that he had taken from the belongings of an English slave that died. That one, too, had kept his weapon hidden. “There might be lawsuits that end in trouble,” said Bjorn. He looked keenly into Colm's face. “We may need every man."

So Bjorn considered him a man, did he? Man enough to ride and fight! Colm scented freedom in his future, closer now, like a prey he was hunting. The scramasax blade was sharp, and Colm wrapped a piece of leather around it before putting the knife in his waistband under his shirt where it was not so obvious—though any searching glance would discover it through the threadbare material.