The Colony Ship Eschaton: The entire ten book series, page 55
“Jephthah and Judith, the elder board has before it the motion that you allowed your daughter Tamar to be taken from your home by a force of evil. This force of evil even tried to hide the girl in men’s clothing. We will now vote. Elders, what say you, to the charge that these people are guilty of failure to control and protect their daughter?”
“Guilty!” each elder said in turn.
”Men of the Clan of Tobit. Do you agree with the elders in this matter?” Seorim spread his arms wide and looked over the gathering.
”We agree!” thundered the response.
“As Chief Elder it is my place to decide discipline. You are each sentenced to ten lashes at the post. What say you to this punishment?”
Now was the only time the accused could speak. Jephthah replied in the accepted ritual form, “Your decision is just and fair. Let it be so to us.”
Judith however, spoke out in a shocking way, “That girl should have been named Miriam. She has only brought bitterness to my life!”
For the first time in the trial, Seorim was genuinely surprised. But he recovered quickly. “Jephthah, your wife speaks out of turn. Clearly your leadership in the home is in serious doubt. Therefore, in order for the evil to be purged from among us, and to protect you and your family from further acts by Asmodeus or other demonic forces, and to ensure domestic tranquility for the Clan of Tobit, your sentences are increased to twenty lashes for Jephthah and thirty for Judith. A woman must learn in submission and quiet. Remove them from the gathering and begin the administration of discipline with the Lash of Chastisement.”
The Master of Discipline, his head covered in a red hood, entered from the rear doors and lead Tamar’s parents down the aisle and out to the pillory. The Lash of Chastisement, a thick, heavy, leather whip, whose end tapered out to a hard point, was standing next to the pillory. The Master of Discipline was one of the predicators, but only they knew which specific one. Before every trial the predicators met together alone and cast lots. The predicator chosen then put on the uniform for the Master of Discipline. This was to ensure that discipline was done in a fair and unbiased manner, but the predicators were all hand chosen by the Chief Elder. The Master of Discipline bound Jephthah’s hands to the end of the stocks, securing them to a large metal hoop set against the hinges. Judith was set down on the ground to await her turn under the lash. Her hands were bound to her feet so she could not escape, even if she considered attempting to do that. She did not even think about it. She just sat on the ground and stared at her husband as the discipline began.
The gathering was quiet until the sounds of the whip were heard. The lashes came slowly, but there was no crying out from the recipient of the discipline. For both Judith and Jephthah knew that if they cried out from the pain, their sentence would be changed from lashings to death by burning. Everyone in the Clan of Tobit knew only the possessed cried out under discipline.
Seorim allowed several lash cracks to be heard before he continued. “Now please bring in the girl Tamar so we can move to protect her.”
Another predicator brought in Tamar. She was dressed in a long gown of green, with a wreath of flowers placed around her head. She would have looked pretty and innocent had it not been for her hands which were bound behind her back.
“Tamar, our sympathies go out to you on your recent ordeal with the servant of darkness, the demon Asmodeus’s agent. But today we will turn into one of rejoicing. You are assigned to be married to Shammai of the Guild of Traders, to be his lawfully wedded wife, and bearer of his children,” Seorim stated with sincerity in his voice, put there for the benefit of the gathered men. His eyes were like daggers of ice which cut into Tamar’s soul as he spoke. Tamar could not meet his eyes.
Shammai stood up, and straightened his long blue judging robe. His dark hair and blue eyes looked upon Tamar as a hunter looks upon its prey. Or like a trader looks upon someone who has just been bested at barter. He walked forward, giving only the slightest nod to his good friend Besai. Shammai had been bringing him tonic mix for a long while. It was a mixture of corn liqueur and strawberries, one which Besai quite enjoyed. Intoxicating beverages were strictly forbidden in Media, but Shammai, as part of the Guild of Traders, knew of a farmer who produced the tonic, and there was a profit for Shammai in being the deliverer of such preparations. Besai would only say he needed it for medicinal purposes.
Shammai very much wanted Tamar, since she was young, virginal, and beautiful. Tamar was roughly twenty years his junior. However, Shammai was also worried and troubled. The incident in the night was something which he feared in his heart. His lust for the beautiful Tamar battled with his fear of demons. He licked his lips as he looked again at Tamar and considered what he had heard about the fighting in the night.
“Do you, Shammai, take this Tamar as your lawfully wedded wife?” Seorim asked.
“Chief Elder, it is a large undertaking. Of course I wish to play a role in protecting our ways. But she has been already the object of demonic attack,” Shammai stated, with some genuine trepidation in his voice. “As is known, I have recently defended our home from both out-worlders and demons. I carry the scars of the cowardly attacks against me.” He rubbed his buttocks, “so I am not sure I wish to become a target for Asmodeus to attack.” Shammai’s mind was figuring and wondering, and he had already contemplated Tamar’s nakedness under the green bridal gown. He could feel his passions rising and pushing aside his fears.
“Yes, Shammai, we are asking you to protect this woman, and to implant in her your seed so that she can be saved by childbearing,” Seorim stated.
Tamar started to object, but the predicator squeezed her arm so tightly that the pain halted her from saying anything. Additionally, the sounds of the whip lashing her father or mother continued to punctuate the proceeding. She knew she could easily have been sentenced to death for wearing her brother’s clothing. And she felt immense guilt at being the cause of her parents' suffering under the Lash of Chastisement. Fear and guilt played equal parts in the tears which streamed down her face. Not for the first time did she question why she was created with curiosity and a mind for understanding machines. If only she had been obedient, that would have been the proper way, but her heart was wretched, and now her wickedness was causing her parents to suffer. Her eyes brimmed with tears of fear.
“Yes, I will take her as my wife," Shammai stated. His lust had won out. Tamar’s tears had pushed his lust ahead of all else. Oh to be the one she feared! If he could have a lifetime to savor that look of fear she had. Being able to illicit fear enticed him: just the kind of fear she feared at that moment. His mind was consumed with craving for the girl. Shammai stepped over and stood next to Tamar, whose hands were still tied behind her back. She was still being held forcefully by the predicator.
“Bring the groom’s apparel,” Seorim commanded.
One of the elders stood and brought forth the red sash which was the symbol for new husbands. He draped it over Shammai’s head. The elder then removed the wreath from Tamar’s head and replaced it with the shawl of wifedom.
“Go now as man and wife. Shammai take your property home and care for her and produce a fruitful multitude. May you be protected from Asmodeus as you consummate your marriage,” Seorim announced.
At that the gathered men stood as one group. They applauded as Shammai took Tamar’s arm and led her away down the aisle. As they departed the meeting house, the Master of Discipline was continuing to use the Lash of Chastisement on Judith.
Tamar could not look away as her mother’s back received the lash. Blood splattered over the white robe as it was sliced apart again. Judith’s knees were buckled and she was only held up by the rope bindings around her wrists and into the metal ring on the stocks. Tamar’s father was lying face down on the ground a few feet away, attended to by the town physician. His white robe was saturated by blood and had been torn asunder. The physician was squatting and moving his arms between a small forge which he had set up and his patient. Taking a red hot iron from the forge, he applied that to the wounds across Jephthah’s back. The smell of cauterized flesh mingled with the sounds of the lash, and the sight of the blood had a numbing effect on Tamar.
“It is all my fault,” she mumbled to herself.
The predicator released Tamar’s arm, which was grabbed even more roughly by Shammai. He led her away to his small home.
3 a binding question
Shammai’s home was near the edge of Media. It was one just like the others, a cabin made of the hard metal sometimes called permalloy. No one in Media could cut or open or in any way shape or alter the hard metal. Once Tamar had asked about how it had been manufactured, and her mother Judith had slapped her just for asking the question. To Tamar’s mind she could tell the hard metal had been spun in some manner, but no one seemed to even be willing to ever discuss it. Like so much of Media, questions were not encouraged.
But there had to have been some way the hard metal was fashioned. For there were two windows opening in the hard metal walls of the cabin. They were covered over by woven wicker shades. There was also the hard metal door with its hinges. Someone had built the cabin in the distant past, and Tamar knew it. Even though the Guild of Builders could not do it now, she knew once someone had built the cabin and had somehow shaped hard metal.
The front room of Shammai‘s cabin had a small wooden bench, some drawers, and a table with chairs. An oil lamp sat on the table. There was a food preparation area in one corner. Nothing was very clean, nor well ordered. The cabin was a lot like Shammai, dirty and unkempt.
“Go and prepare yourself,” Shammai said as he untied the bindings on her hands. He pointed to the small sleeping area in the back of the cabin. There was a set of curtains which met in the center and separated the sleeping area from the rest of the cabin. “I will be there in a moment.”
He shoved her hard after he undid her hands. She tripped a bit, her feet catching in the green gown, but she did not fall. His hope was to continue the fear she had experienced in the meeting house. But he first needed to hang out the red sash on the door to the cabin so that no one would bother them. For when the red sash was hung on the door, none, not even the predicators, were allowed to violate the marriage time. And Shammai thought that this girl, his new bride, might do a bit of screaming this night. A wicked smile crossed his face as he considered that. So Shammai hung the red sash over the door and closed it. He then carefully took off his blue judging robe and hung it in the corner with his other articles of clothing. He placed his rod of discipline, a wooden club about as long as a man’s forearm, against the wall next to the door. He then began to peel off his filthy clothing.
Tamar had recovered some of her strength and self-control as she slipped through the curtains. The thought of being Shammai’s wife repulsed her. His shove did not cause her to fear him, only to see him with more disgust. He was just a grime-covered bully, and he was alone with her. No other men were there for him to call on. The sleeping area did not have a window and was dimly illuminated by the diffuse light from the windows in the other part of the cabin. The sleeping area consisted of a woolen mattress, stuffed with straw, sitting on a wooden bed frame. There was a small table next to the bed with a few personal articles on it: a bag for a belt, a rolled up leather sling, the kind which was commonly used by the men of the Clan of Tobit to hunt small game, two flasks of some kind of liquid, and a bone knife.
She considered the knife, but doubted her ability to use it. Girls were taught nothing about weapons like knives or slings. She pulled off the wreath on her head and set it down on the floor. She also pulled off the green gown and stood naked just behind the curtain. Hearing Shammai coming she grabbed the pottery flask with her right hand and then bunched up the gown over the top hiding it.
Shammai, now naked himself, threw open the curtains and saw Tamar standing there naked. His eyes grew wide as his lust was set aflame. He was too busy looking at other things to notice the hand under the green gown. He stepped toward Tamar. She swung the flask as hard as her young arm could muster. Shammai never saw it coming and it smashed into the side of his head, knocking him onto the straw mattress. The flask shattered. He was dazed and confused, with blood running down from where the broken flask had cut his ear.
Tamar grabbed the rolled up sling and used one end of it to tie Shammai’s left hand to the frame of the bed. She tied it as tight as she would have tied a goat or pig. He was coming out of the daze when she tried to tie down his other hand. He swatted at her with his free hand. He even grabbed her leg and squeezed until bruises happened. But she wrestled with him as she had never wrestled before. She knew this was her only chance. She finally sat on his elbow, and bent it backward. He gave out a yelp of pain, and dropped his hand. Tamar was able to tie his wrist to the bed with the remaining end of the sling. He was lying face down on the mattress and furious. She noticed several long scars across his bare buttocks.
Shammai pulled hard at the leather which held his hands to the bed frame. He kicked his legs, but he could not get free. He started to yell. Tamar grabbed the green gown and pulled it around his face. He tried to bite at the fabric, and as he did, Tamar shoved it into his mouth. She tied the rest of the gown around his head to keep the gag in place. He thrashed his head back and forth, but was unable to free the gag.
Tamar considered her next actions. Her plan was not well conceived, and she was making it up step by step. She knew she needed to leave. But where to go? Her parents would not welcome her back. She knew that. In fact, everyone in Media would be against her. No one dared to challenge the decisions of the Chief Elder.
Shammai made more noises pulling against the ties. Then she got an idea.
4 Hair today, gone tomorrow
Tamar’s mind showed her a plan. But she was troubled. Shammai struggled and made lot of noises by pulling against the restraints. Looking around the cabin, her plan started to take shape. She knew that she could not leave the cabin, lest she be immediately brought back. And except for the green gown which was serving as a gag on Shammai, she had no clothing.
But Shammai had some clothing. Tamar hated the idea of even touching his clothing, but she hated more the idea of having him touch her. Her leg where he had squeezed was sore enough. So she sorted through his clothing and found a woolen shirt which was not too grimy, and some leather breeches. Cinching them around her with a leather strap made it so they did not fall off. She found Shammai’s boots and tried them on. They were far too large. She took a knife from the food area and sliced up the dirtiest clothing and made strips to stuff into the boots. By doing that, she was able to make the boots fit her smaller feet. It also gave her a bit more height. She was not anywhere near Shammai’s height, but from a distance, perhaps no one would know, and she would pass as a man.
Then she thought about her long silky black hair. If she were to pass as Shammai, or some other man, even to those looking from a distance, she must cut her hair. She had never cut her hair in her life. Women only cut their hair after they were married. She liked her hair. She then actually laughed.
“I am married, I guess. So it is official that I can cut my hair,” she said to herself.
It took her quite a while to cut her hair with the food knife. But eventually, her hair was chopped down to a short ragged mop and a large pile of black silky hair was on the floor. Tamar looked with mixed emotions at the pile of hair. All her childhood she had been told girls had to have long hair. It was about the only item a girl could admire about herself.
But the question remained, where to go? She might be able to leave this cabin, but to go where? As she looked through Shammai’s things she saw his travel pack lying under the bench. Shammai was a man who traveled to different parts of the world. He claimed he even had been to Antioch, the home of the heretics.
Antioch! What little she knew of it did not inspire her, but it could not be worse than here. It was at the other end of the world. Tamar had no idea how to get there, but she was confident that if Shammai could do it, so could she. She now had a destination, even though it was very vague and uncertain. She would head to Antioch, the home of the heretics, and from the rumors, home of strange out-worlders. There had been stories that one of the out-worlders had even come to Media. No one talked openly about that, but Tamar knew enough about how Media’s gossip channels worked that some incident had happened. The rumors were of a nighttime burning, but of course, no women or children were allowed to be at something like that. Out-worlders were witches, it was murmured. Just another secret in a town filled with secrets.
So Tamar loaded up Shammai’s travel pack with what little food she could find, and other items. Then she strapped on his rod of discipline, as no man would be seen without that hanging from his belt, and put the food knife in her belt as well. She made ready to leave. She took a hat and pulled it down over her head as much as possible to hide her face, and edged to the door.
Peering outside, she did not see anyone. She shut the door. Could she do this? She wondered. She knew she must walk as a man with head held high and a confident stride. She could not walk at all like a girl. She imagined how her brother Jebadiah would walk. She would just pretend to be him, and walk his way. She practiced walking about the cabin until she had some confidence wearing the oversized boots, and doing the walk of a man.
