“Good. Now tell me what has caused you such grief.”
“I wish to tell you of my first marriage.”
He moved to sit down, left forearm propped on his raised knee, his right leg stretched out, his right arm still around me. “I have wanted to ask you, but I did not want to bring up old pain.”
I felt some of the pressure in my head and chest lessen from him sitting next to me, in the space between the desk and the end of our bed, our backs leaning against the desk. Closing my eyes, I began and I began at the worst of it. “Do you know what boxing is? In Rodwin’s faith?”
“Oh, wife.”
I nodded.
There was a tightness in his face. “I did not think it was common.”
“It is, especially in the cities where the king and his clergy have the most influence, no more so than its capital. I grew up and was married in Apollon.”
“And he— he had that done to you?”
“He and my parents before him.”
He turned away from me. He lifted his right arm from around me and took my left hand in his right, one finger stroking my wedding band. He leaned his head towards mine, the side of his face brushing over my temple. Softly, he said, “Tell me all that it entails. So that I know.”
I explained that willful children and women were made, first by their parents and then their local magistrates and priests, to lie down in a box for days at a time in their church, at the altar of Rodwin, after any especially grievous transgression that could not be punished by the law, though Rodwin and the courts of Perpatane were much interwoven. Parishioners could then pass by during services, offering anonymous prayers to the boxed. Except, gossip is ripe for the plucking in Rodwin’s people. And most boxed adults were not first-time sinners. Most who went in the box were known by their fellow congregants and the reason for the boxing was either the source of great shock or great speculation. And after the sinner and the sin were decided upon, the gravity of the sin was weighed against the number of days the sinner was in the box. A foul mouth might result in a day. A stubborn, barren woman resulted in five days, then six, then seven. And at night, the church was empty and cold and dark. There was no light and no sound and every night, it felt like morning never came.
“No food? No water?” asked Alric, his words were spoken from the back of his throat, as if he tried to swallow and could not. “No relief?”
“None,” I whispered.
“And he and your priests did this? More than once?”
“Many times. Not at first. We were allowed the lenience of newlyweds. But after three winters, he was eager for a son. His older brother had only gotten daughters on his wife. Thrush hoped his father would give their estate to him if we could have a son. My first husband was a very— Heisa very ambitious man. I am certain he still lives.”
He covered his mouth with his left hand, staring at the end of the bed. “Go on.”
“I did not see it for what it was. I thought he was acting as any husband would. It took me a long time to see that I was accustomed to it from my parents and so I accepted it more readily from him. We were married for nine winters. Well, by Perpatanian law he is my husband still—”
“He is no longer,” Alric interrupted, voice flat, eyes still trained on the bed.
“I was boxed throughout the last four winters. And prayed over. And spat on. And called names. There were little slits for breathing and the most devout of Rodwin’s followers put their mouths to the holes and said… the meanest things.”
A dishonor upon your husband. Rebellious. Barren. Useless. A waste of a womb.
“Why?” my husband asked. “Why be unkind to a woman trying to conceive a babe?”
“Because Rodwin teaches that women are corrupt and it is men’s work and mission to save them via marriage and motherhood. I was a dishonor to my husband, that he could not tame me—”
“Don’t call him that,” he interjected. “That is my title.”
I gave him a trembly smile. “Thrush,” I continued. “I was a dishonor to Thrush. And it was believed the longer I was boxed, the tamer a woman I would be and the tamer and more subservient, the more likely Rodwin would see me as fit enough to be a mother. Our priests said I was not fit. Thrush believed my having a hot temper and a need to forever speak my opinion was holding us back. He wanted to be a statesmen, a person of note in court. And he was on his way with much going right for him, having many people in his pocket and that kind of thing. But for an heir.”
Alric remained staring at the bed. “Is that why you wanted windows?”
“Ye— Yes,” I said. “I cannot sleep without seeing outside. Or knowing I could see it if I wanted to see it. I was always so scared at night in the box. It was so dark. There is no darkness like that darkness.”
“He is evil. He is a demon,” Alric said. He still did not look at me.
I brought my right hand to my eyes to swipe at my cheeks. “He did not start out as such. In truth, he was good to me in the beginning. Better than many Perpatanian men. And in the end, other women have had much worse done to them by their husbands.”
“We do not speak about other women. We are speaking about you. I repeat, he is a demon.”
