The ContractMarriage (2)

Previously...

"Carrying the title as Huya’s wife, Jesauma was no longer restricted from entering the temple, which was the sacred place no slaves allowed to enter its court. It was her very first visit to the temple, to offer worship to the Fush-urah, the goddess of fertility as a free woman..."

The Fush-urah temple was crowded with women – barren women praying hard to the goddess for an heir to the family. Pregnant women returned to offer of thanksgiving for prayers granted, and mothers dedicated their children to the temple for a period of stay to serve priestesses there.

Jesauma never dreamt of entering the temple when she was still a little girl. She only dared to peep from a window afar when accompanying Jurvoh [1], mother of Huya to the temple. She saw women chatting with one another; some sharing joy of childbirth experience while some knelt before the Fush-urah statue for hours for prayers to be heard.

There was once she got too close to the entrance when observing the people in the temple, a priestess intentionally poured boiling water on her bare feet.

“Your presence is intolerable in this holy place!” warned the young priestess. Jurvoh was not a kind lady nor did she enjoy torturing slaves the way her son did. She just could not be bothered.

Now, Jesauma, no longer fear of being chased out, entered the court in petty steps. She turned around and told the servants to stay away from the entrance. As she walked slowly towards to the Fush-urah statue, priestesses standing at the side were casting glances on her from top to bottom. She ignored unfriendly stares around and stayed calm.

No priestess brought her incense and olive oil for her prayers.

An old priestess came up to her with incense and oil in her hands when Jesauma buried her head in her arms to hide from the embarrassment. She anointed Jesauma’s head with oil on her palm and smoothened her hair gently. It was either tears had flooded around Jesauma’s eyes or she was too ashamed to see the priestess’ face.

The Old Priestess handed over the praying materials to her and said: “Make your prayer now. Fush-urah will listen to your heart,” The priestess reassured her and left.

Watching her every tiny pace, Jesauma recognized the familiar shadow which slowly faded into the other end of the hallway. Jesauma was very certain that she was the only priestess who helped bandaged her wounds but was punished for touching an unclean slave. It was the same shadow fifteen years ago when she was sent by a senior priestess to a room to undergo purification and seek forgiven from the goddess of Fush-urah.

Jesauma had never dreamt of becoming the mistress of family. She knew where she stands in the eyes of Huya’s family members even with a switch in her status. A slave would always be a slave - that was the mindset she was brought up with. She treated her fellow servants like her sisters and brother; she visited them at the kitchen to help out with chores when Huya did not need her on bed in the day.

Kilahya was informed that Jesauma was still mingling with servants whom she called slaves. Accompanied by two servants, Kilahya barged into the kitchen and saw her making a loaf.

“What, are you doing here?” she stood from afar.

Jesauma was surprised by the sudden visit. And all other busy servants as well but seemingly they were more afraid than taken aback. Jesauma did not notice the changes of ambiance but prepared a seat for Kilahya.

“I have just baked a loaf, try,” Jesauma welcomed. Jesauma sliced a piece of loaf and presented it to her on a plate. Kilahya picked up the slice and tasted the loaf but Jesauma was not spared from her stricken stare.

“This, would be the last time I would eat loaf you made. You hear me? From now on, you will not come into this place anymore, nor will you talk to slaves as friends,” said Kilahya.

Jesauma was not expecting such words from her. The servants dropped their heads and dared not make a sound. Jesauma just looked around her but did not know what to respond.

Kilahya continued: “You are no longer one of them. You do not work but only enjoy the fruit of their work.” She stood up and turned around: “Come with me, now.”

Like a quiet little mouse, Jesauma walked behind Kilahya beside the other two servant girls. Had her bright colourful attire and a golden headpiece taken off from her head, she would look like one of the girls judging by her unrefined steps.

They arrived at a garden. Kilahya turned around, sat down and signaled all the servants to leave them. Jesauma stood in front of her in fear.

“Sit,” said Kilahya. Jesauma moved closer and sat beside her, with a little doubt in her eyes.

“How did Huya treat you?” she asked. Jesauma did not know what to answer.

“How?” she asked again. Jesauma did not know how to reply or what to tell Kilahya, thinking she might report to Huya for badmouthing him.

“Were you born deaf!” Kilahya slammed the table beside her. Jesauma got a shock by the screech. She got misty-eyed immediately. Jesauma knew she had to give a respond. She lifted her dress and showed Kilahya the cuts and bites on her thigh.

“Anymore?” Kilahya asked again. Jesauma reluctantly dragged down her upper dress and showed injuries on her left breast.

“Put back on,” ordered Kilahya after inspected all her wounds.

Kilahya then stood up. “You, must stand against him.”

Jesauma kept her head low and shook her head repeatedly. Kilahya went forth and grabbed her arm.

“Look what he has done to you. You are the mistress- not a slave to him and you will not suffer such humiliation!”

“Huya’s my master…”

“He’s a beast with no compassion. Our bodies are merely for his barbaric pleasure!” Kilahya showed her infected wounds on her upper chest, and scars left due to repeatedly burned by hot metals.

Kilahya took both of her hands and said closely to her: “You must stand against him!”

Seeing her trampled flesh, Jesauma shivered. She imagined herself to become another Kilahya when she loses favour of his master. Scenes flashed across her mind and she only knew how to respond by shaking her head.

Kilahya released her hands and swung her palm to her right cheek with might.

“Foolish!” Jesauma fell to the ground. She did not feel the hit on her cheek but the excruciating pain she would experience in future, yes, she felt it in her bones. Kilahya stormed out of the garden.

Life might have been better if she would remain as a slave. Without adornments and powders on her face, she was just another ordinary teenage lady you could find on streets. She had no rights to put the blame on fate for it would be no difference in blaming herself, for the life given. How ill-fated could she be, she took it as a journey before returning to the soil god of Tellash where she thought she would find eternal comfort.

But she has no intention of returning to Tellash at this time for she had to accomplish duty she had pledged towards Fush-urah after hearing the goddess’ calling at the temple the other day. She could not flee to Tellash now. Tellash would not be delighted to accept her as Fush-urah would hunt her down wherever she would go. The place of Tellash is a place of peace. He would not tolerate disturbance. Unless and until Jesauma bore an heir to Huya’s descent, Tellash would not welcome her and might banish her to Yathagrum, the god of the underworld if she insisted on entering his land.

(to be continued...)

Jurvoh [1]: The biological mother of Huya. According to the historical record, she committed adultery with a horseman right after marrying Huya's father. The horseman was later hit at the back of his head by a stone swung by Huya when he was still a young boy. There was a possibility that the horseman was his father.