Jaclyn and the Beanstalk Page 9

  “Please, have whatever your heart desires.” He sat back down and grabbed a slab of meat, cheese, and carrots for his plate.

  I craned my neck to peek at his people, who went about unremarkable tasks—attending the sheep, harvesting, planting vegetables where the sun shone brightest. Some were getting water from the stream with buckets and watering the vegetation. I was glad they weren’t still staring at us.

  “Do your people partake of this food they grow?” I contained my fear and eyed the food I wanted to eat, but dared not touch.

  He smiled, chewing with his mouth open. “You care about my people. It pleases me, but do not worry your heart. As long as I eat, they are full.”

  What does he mean?

  I folded my hands in my lap to keep steady. “Why are our people your prisoners?”

  I did not dare mention one of the men was my father. I did not want him to use that against me.

  The scarred man bit into his meat and licked his fingers. “Your people killed one of mine.”

  “But they killed a monster, not a man,” I said.

  “Exactly. But they are not monsters, I assure you.”

  His words confused me, but I carried on. “They did right by killing one of the beasts. How many are there? Where do they live? And why are you here?” So many unanswered questions swam in my head. “Please. Do you have the key to the cage? Please help me release the prisoners.” Then an ugly thought entered my mind. Perhaps he helped the monsters? Maybe he fed them people and sheep. He had plenty of both. “Why do you have so many sheep? You stole them from my people, did you not?”

  The scarred man waved a chunk of meat as if annoyed by me. “You have a bundle of questions I do not wish to answer.”

  “Then let us be.” I huffed out a breath as my fingernails dug into the crack of the wooden chair.

  I gave Jack the evil eye when he took a bite of cooked meat. He froze, glared back and dropped it to his plate. Jack had better have a plan, or at least be thinking of one instead of filling his thoughts with the meal.

  “I’m afraid I cannot do as you ask.”

  His composed tone made the anger in me scorch hotter. I slammed my hand on the table so hard, everything on it jumped. My palm stung, the pain rattled up my arm and to my bones, but I had no care.

  “Why not? If you do not let us go, then you are the monster.”

  The scarred man leapt out of his seat, eyes furious and his muscles like rock. Jack’s chair fell back when he stood in haste. He held his dagger out, preventing the scarred man from coming for me.

  “Do not lay your filthy hands on her. Keep your hands filled with your meal.” Jack sneered. “So help me God, I’ll kill you. Give us answers fast before I lose my patience. My brothers are coming with our people. They’re already on their way. If we’re not out, there’ll be bloodshed. Your people don’t look fit for battle.”

  The scarred man scowled, sat back down, and picked up a piece of bread. “Do you know the story about Jesus and the centurion with the lance?”

  “Aye, but ’tis not a story. ’Tis in the Bible,” Jack said. “Why do you speak of the holy book?”

  The scarred man ignored Jack and peered up after breaking his bread into two pieces. “Take this and eat it, for this is my body.”

  He held out a piece of bread, which I did not take.

  He scoffed. “You know the story of this man who pierced Jesus’s side to ensure his death? He did what he was told, his duty. How could he have known Jesus was the son of God?” He paused. “I’m going to tell you what’s missing from the Bible. The part they dared not put in. Hypocrites.”

  Jack and I glanced at each other. I knew he was thinking the same as I when he tapped his head. This man had gone beyond mad. But we had no choice but to listen.

  “Carry on.” Jack scowled, picked up the fallen chair and sat next to me. “I can’t wait to hear this story.”

  The scarred man glared, and then softened his eyes. “Three women witnessed the man with the lance piercing Jesus’s side: Jesus’s mother, Mary, the mother of the sons of Zebedee, and Mary Magdalene. What happened after was a mystery. Again, the man was just following orders. Mary Magdalene cursed the man with the lance, and then she cursed every man in Golgotha, the hill where they crucified your Jesus. I understood her pain, anger, and wanting revenge, but she went too far.”

  “The soldier deserved it, but maybe not the other people who did not know who Jesus was,” I said. “However, I’m sure the curse compared nothing to what she felt.”

  Surprisingly, the man did not counter. Instead, he looked somber and took a long sip from his cup. Some drops dribbled down his chin, red like blood, and he wiped them with the back of his hand.

  “But it did,” he finally said. “Mary Magdalene cursed them to eternal damnation. On the night of the curse, the people suffered vicious attacks from invisible forces, as though a lion mauled them from head to toe until the sun rose. They started to heal at dawn and healed for days. When they were well and back to themselves, the cycle started again. Do you think those people deserved such suffering?”

  I did not want anyone to suffer, but I did not speak, in case he told false tales. Jack bowed his head, and I assumed he pitied the imagined people’s anguish, as I did.

  “No, they do not,” the man said softly. “Not at all. Not only did the people suffer as if demons ate their flesh and bone, but on those nights, they became the monsters of scary bedtime stories. They grow three times taller, and hair like a lion’s spread over every inch of their bodies. The bones in their hands and feet break and reform into paws with long, sharp claws. Their broken jaws and cheekbones take shape on a hideous face—half-human and half-beast. And their teeth grow long and razor sharp. How was this a fair punishment? Dying and being sent to Hell might have been better.”

  Taller than life ... claws like a beast ... teeth as sharp as knives.

  He seemed to believe he was telling us a true tale, not a bedtime story. I listened and kept my senses alert. I knew, somehow, I could use his story to my advantage. I had to use my wits, but how?

  And then—Jack. Stupid, hare brained Jack.

  “’Tis a good story. Lies, but good story indeed.” Jack moved to the edge of his seat, pulling on my cape. “Thank you for the entertainment, but we must go.” He pointed up. “The day certainly seemed to speed by.”

  The scarred man growled like a wild beast and pounded once on the table. “I am not finished.”

  I stilled, and silence reigned.

  “Now, where did I...” He paused for a moment and proceeded with a calmer tone. “Because of their transformation, the man with the lance led his people on a long journey, as far as they could go from the place of the curse. They hid in a mountain. To protect themselves from people who seek to kill them, they tore down the trees on the mountain and salted the earth to ensure the surface could not be climbed. People called this place the Black Mountain because of its color.” He paused, staring into the rocky wall, as if to recall his past. Cocking an eyebrow, he bore his eyes to mine. “How did you climb the mountain no man has ever climbed before?”

  When I didn’t answer, he snarled.

  "I’ll find out soon enough. Now, back to the story. They tried to stay hidden, but one problem always remained. To heal the cursed wounds and stay human on other nights, they needed to sacrifice a sheep during each cycle of their changing. And the man who wielded the lance needed to drink a cup of the sheep’s blood.”

  I glanced at the flock of sheep and the hair rose on the back of my neck. If he and his people were truly the people of the tale, then the sheep being there made sense and explained why nearby towns had lost their flocks.

  These people stole sheep for the monsters they became? And the horrible injuries of the people had healed. I’d seen it with my own eyes.

  Then I gazed upon the people with a somber heart. What must it be like for them to go through such a torturous curse? Did they know what had been done to them? And
if they did, had they renounced God in their hearts? Certainly, they acted as though they had no opinion. Or did they fear the scarred man.

  “How often does this happen?” I asked.

  A wave of unwanted feelings rose in my throat as I pieced what I had heard and experienced together: the vision of the monster when I’d touched Father’s lance; the cries only I had heard; and the image of this scarred man.

  As I sorted the thoughts in my mind, my pulse raced like a galloping horse. His story intrigued me. I needed answers about the painful cries I’d heard so many nights.

  “It comes and goes when it’s time. It’s a cruel and unjust punishment. The centurion didn’t hammer the nails through Jesus on the cross. This man did not order the crucifixion. He only checked to make sure the prisoners were dead. It was the task assigned to him for every man who was crucified.”

  Jack released a long sigh. “Liar. You’ve gone mad and sold your soul to the devil.” He stood again.

  “What I speak is true.” He rounded his fists on the table, as if to give us a warning.

  “Blasphemy. You keep these people prisoner here for some evil purpose of your own. If what you say is true, where is the proof?” Jack’s voice grew louder with each word.

  The scarred man tipped over his cup and jerked his head up as his nostrils flared. Lines creased his forehead and his body shook with rage. Crimson liquid pooled on the table, too thick to be wine, and dripped between the cracks to the floor.

  Breath left me in a gasp.

  Still glaring at us, he announced with conviction, “This is the blood of the sacrificed lamb, and I am that man!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Longinus

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  I held my breath. Silence filled the cave, except for the sound of blood falling to the cave floor. Even his people stood still, watching in silence.

  “I am the man who stabbed Jesus as he took his last breath. My name is Longinus.”

  Jack pulled me out of my chair, gripping my arm. With a trembling hand, he pointed his dagger at Longinus. “Release the prisoners and I’ll keep my people away. We won’t bother you again. You can live in peace with your people and the monsters.”

  Longinus’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. “I tried being nice, but you’re not being grateful. Your people took a life, and now I must take one of theirs.”

  “Blasphemer. What in God’s name do you mean?” Jack roared. His eyes smoldered with anger. “You killed two of our people.”

  “They died in a battle they began. My men captured the other three. One must face the same fate. You may choose who will die and who will live. Life for a life.”

  “No,” I said. “We can strike a bargain.”

  “Men?” Jack blinked in surprise. “Your people are not men. They are monsters.”

  Longinus shook his head. “Have you not heard anything I’ve said? Your ignorance will save you no more.” He turned to a few men near him and pointed to us. “Get them.”

  “Well done, Jack.” Pulling away from him, I yanked a dagger from my boot.

  I stood back to back with Jack, waving my dagger from side to side. The men surrounding us were not fit for battle. They had no swords or daggers, but they came at us with strength. When I nicked one on the chest, he backed away. Jack shoved another fellow, who stumbled back and fell atop other men.

  “Stop. I do not want to hurt you.” My dagger shook in my hand.

  Father and I had practiced sword fighting, but this was different. The fight was real, and blood would be shed by my hand. I had never wanted to kill a being, human or animal, but that day might have come.

  One brave soul jumped for me, and I cut his arm, just enough to hurt him. I cringed when he shrieked in pain. Then the scenario took a turn for the worse when Jack stabbed a few men who rushed at him. The others roared and scrambled away. Hurting the unarmed men was nothing to be proud of, and I felt sorry for them.

  “Cease this nonsense.”

  When I turned in the direction of Longinus’s booming voice, my thundering heart stopped. Father and his friends stood next to Longinus. Each of them had a dagger pressed to their necks, held by Longinus’s men.

  “Father.” I realized too late I’d made a mistake.

  Longinus looked at me and then to my father. His wicked grin widened. I bowed my head in regret.

  “Come here, girl,” Longinus said.

  Longinus had Father and his friends, so I had no choice. I placed my dagger back inside my boot, and Jack followed.

  “No, not you.” Longinus shook his head. “Put your dagger down.”

  Jack scowled and did as told. “Let her go.”

  If Jack had any wit, he would not attack. He had to think about his father too.

  Longinus watched me stumble toward him with a triumphant grin. “I haven’t had this much fun in, well ... I’ve never had this much fun. For so many years, I’ve been alone.”

  “You have your people. Play your tricks on them. What do they think of your lies?”

  Longinus’s eyes glowed like the devil’s when Jack mocked him with his words. “For every word from your wicked tongue, I’ll cut her with her own dagger.”

  He pulled it out of my boot as the two men beside me held my arms wide. Blood drained from my face and my legs buckled.

  “Stop. Forgive my insults. Or wound me instead.”

  Longinus paid no mind to Jack’s apology. When Jack tried to reach for me, Longinus’s men held him back. After Longinus untied my cloak, it pooled around my boots.

  “Roll up her sleeve,” he said to the men holding me.

  In spite of myself, I looked to Father.

  Father’s eyes rounded in fear, and he struggled against his captors. “Please. I beg you. I’ll do anything you ask. I can give you coins, land, sheep, what your heart desires. Let her go. She’s just a child. Have mercy. Please have mercy on her.”

  Guilt would become his demon, for he could not save his only child, his most precious thing. He would have to watch me die. I had never seen my father cry. His tears made mine fall as well. He broke my heart as I did his.

  Longinus made no answer to Father and stood behind me. “You are vulnerable. I have been, too, all these centuries.”

  His breath burned hot on my neck. My skin pricked when the dagger’s cold blade pressed against my throat, teasing me. Then he walked around to face me and placed the tip of the dagger under my chin and lifted my head.

  A tiny whimper escaped my mouth.

  Longinus grazed the blade lower and pierced the side of my neck. Pain shot down my spine. I bit my lip from crying out as warm liquid seeped down.

  “Stop.” Jack took a step, but Longinus’s men gathered around him.

  Longinus cut to Jack with cold steel eyes, then easily dismissed him. “I begged and pleaded every cycle for the curse to stop. Not just for me, but for my people. My prayers were never answered. God had no mercy on me or these people. What kind of God turns away prayers from those who are suffering?”

  At first I’d pitied him, but I wanted to spit in his face for his cruelty. “God only hears prayers that deserve to be answered. You are not worthy.”

  The words tumbled without thought to my tongue, but I hoped I made him feel small and loathsome.

  “Does He now?” Longinus’s face inched closer to mine.

  Staring at the freckles on his nose, I breathed in his scent. For someone who had been cursed for life, he did not smell bad. A cursed person should smell like rotting fish to proclaim their evil.

  Longinus would have had a handsome face if he hadn’t been possessed by malice. His beautiful midnight blue eyes softened when they met mine. Then he took a step back, his irises darkened like night falling, and his shoulders tensed.

  “Tell me, little girl, will your God hear your prayers when I cut you?” He dragged the dagger across my shoulder. “Your blood will spill on this floor and your soul will break. And I will rejoice to see you renounce your God and k
neel before me as you die.”

  I pushed back hard, but the men held me firm. What could I say or do to sway him? I could not stand there mute; I had to fight for my life.

  “Why would you do such a thing? You want me to believe you are undeserving of your fate. Prove it. Killing me will not change the past. Seek not revenge. You will only hurt yourself and your people.” My voice rose to echo off the cavern walls. “Repent of your sins, and you shall find salvation.”

  Longinus blinked. Tilting his head, he stared at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. “I have not sinned. I did no wrong. I am a good man. My purpose is to save you. Mary cursed me to suffer for eternity. Mary has sinned, not I. Now I speak the words Mary spoke to me before she cursed me. Repent of your sins, and you shall find salvation.” Then he slashed my forearm with the dagger.

  I screamed in pain as blood splashed beneath me, painting the dirt with crimson.

  “Stop! Please.” Father bucked against the men holding him. “Please. Let me take her place.”

  “You have a caring father,” Longinus said.

  His compliment seemed odd at the moment.

  My tongue twisted in knots, and pain took my mind. I bit my bottom lip to keep from screaming again.

  Longinus ran his fingers through my hair and yanked my head back. “You’re a brave soul ... for now. I’ve just begun. Prepare yourself.”

  “You coward. Why not hurt someone your own size?” Jack shoved the men around him, but there were too many.

  Longinus looked over his shoulder to Jack and hissed. “It is not about size, you fool.”

  “You are no man.”

  “I am not merely a man, I assure you. I will be the end of your world and the beginning of a new one when I claim your land. Centuries of hiding didn’t protect my people, so I will free them and take back what was once mine.”

  “Name your price,” Jack said, panic struck in his eyes. “Take me. I beg you let her be.”

  Jack’s pleading surprised me. I thought he would run and save himself. His chivalry softened my heart.