Perhaps.

Nothing happened. No.

Nothing could have happened. In other words, the incident of this night was like a prostitute roaming every corner of a shabby banquet hall. Like her abundant buttocks swaying gently to the rhythm under her headdress, with her messy hair let down vulgarly. Like her thick skin. It would be nothing more than a night-time joke that everyone brings up at least once with frivolous laughter. Just that much of a scandalous story. Ordinary.

It was night.

Griselda sat up blankly. The boy who had fallen asleep with one arm stretched out long, as if adding a bolt to her collarbone, just then stirred slightly. As his bare back rippled like the recoil of an arm falling onto the bed, his spine, more prominent than usual, was visible. However, he showed no signs of getting up. Winfrid’s side profile, buried in the pillow, was still breathing deeply.

The child seems unlikely to ever shed that thin frame.

Griselda quietly gazed at the naked body of the boy, covered by the blanket down to his calves. Both her body and mind remained silent, saying nothing. Although her body had been trembling like an aspen until Winfrid’s movements first stopped, at some point it ceased to shake, and her lips, which had let out barely two moans that didn’t even become screams, were now simply demure. After sinking and sinking, now it was a complete stillness like a pond.

Griselda held her head up all night long. Without any feeling of shame, yet not lowering it even once. For what her son born of her heart was doing seemed as if he were merely using her body as a tool to comfort himself, like an ignorant child. Staring at her boldly, it was still a naive child that she, as a surrogate mother, had to discipline with a firm attitude.

Child, what is all this about?

Perhaps she had asked so gently with slightly surprised eyes. Do you know what you’re doing now? The boy who had lowered his pants then looked up at her with a somewhat bewildered expression. She quietly soothed him. Come here and tell me everything from the beginning, my child. Did something happen that I don’t know about? My child. I’m all right.

My child.

“Lord Winfrid. Please stop.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, Lord Winfrid. Now stop. Stop…”

“Keep your mouth shut.”

“Lord Winfrid. Win… Winfrid…”

“I said… shut… up…”

“Ah! Aah…!”

Those tears.

Those cries. All of it….

Were they really hers?

…..

It can’t be. In fact, it’s probably not such a big deal. What mother with a son hasn’t experienced this at least once in her life? Moreover, I’m just a wet nurse without a drop of shared blood. It was something to laugh about.

Griselda lowered her feet to the floor. In the darkness, she fumbled to put on her clothes properly and briefly adjusted her apron and headdress. Her face, pale to the point of having a faint bluish-green tint, was briefly reflected in the washbasin, but she didn’t bother to examine it closely. She only thought that it was late at night and she should return to her quarters. She had to go.

Just as Griselda finally moved her steps to the exit, her entire body came to a halt. It was because she remembered Winfrid’s body sleeping without being fully covered by the blanket.

The image of the boy’s naked form stretched out long flashed through Griselda’s mind. From the nape of his neck to his smoothly curved back and waist, the groove of his buttocks. Down to his thighs and calves below.

Even if it was his own bed, for someone of a monastic status to not wear a thread of clothing. It was an extremely careless posture, and yet it was a nakedness that looked pitifully pure, as if born of a civilian family. He’ll surely catch a bad cold like that.

Griselda silently left the room. Like Winfrid’s wound that finally formed one after trailing in succession, her steps also flowed without stopping. Although she hesitated for a very brief moment, she didn’t look back even once. She went outside. Even to herself, it was a bit strange that this was unlike her usual behavior. Of course, she didn’t forget to lock the door at the end. Click. She closed the door. No. She seemed to have closed it. No…. Even if she hadn’t closed it, it’s fine.

Everything that happened on this night is no big deal anyway.

***

“You…! Why… why…!”

Before dawn could arrive, Griselda was startled awake by a thin scream. She looked down in the direction of the sound with unfocused eyes. She saw the young lady sitting up straight against the headboard of the bed, clutching the blanket up to her chest. The girl was shaking all over, with large eyes brimming with tears. Young lady…?

“You…. You’ve really gone mad.”

When did I come to stand like this in the lady’s chamber? While Griselda was puzzling over her own muddled consciousness, the pale young lady’s lips trembled.

“Why…. Why are you standing there so blankly staring at me at this hour? I… ah, I really…. I thought you were a ghost…. I thought you were a demon come to take me away….”

The young lady exhaled deeply and then bowed her head intermittently. She pulled the blanket, which she had tightly grasped with her thin hands, up to her eyes and buried her forehead in it. Was she relieved? Like a lost child who had finally found its mother, the young lady seemed to be sobbing quietly to herself. Her shoulders, still slightly convulsing, looked as fragile and shattered as moonlight. And somehow, that innocent and naive figure was deeply imprinted on Griselda’s retina. Yes…. You too must know what ‘this’ feels like.

“…I’m sorry.”

Griselda apologized without realizing it. Yet she still couldn’t take her eyes off the young lady.

“I’m sorry….”

She approached the young lady’s bedside. Gathering her skirts, she knelt down. Bending her upper body, she crept up to the young lady’s waist. Spreading her arms, she fumbled to embrace the frightened girl’s sides. The young lady exhaled a steep sigh mixed with sobs and poured her forehead onto the nape of Griselda’s neck. Griselda repeatedly stroked the girl’s sides.

“You were startled, weren’t you? You were in pain, weren’t you…. I’m sorry, young lady. I… I just came to check on your bed.”

“Even so, how could you…. You, how monstrous you looked. I, I, I was really scared….”

“I came in without making any noise, didn’t I? This will never happen again. So don’t cry. Don’t be afraid, young lady. It’s alright.”

“You really gave me a fright. Don’t go today, Griselda. Sleep here. Hmm? Hmm?”

“I won’t go.”

“Please….”

“You don’t have to ask, I won’t go. I’m not going.”

Griselda tightly grasped the hem of the young lady’s nightgown. Suddenly, recalling the back of Johannes as he stabbed a knife into her shoulder blade was perhaps a natural progression. That back, brilliantly blue and vulgarly red, transformed into Winfrid’s, causing her heart to shudder for a moment.

Griselda then felt her breath freeze. It was because she now vaguely realized why she had been unable to understand the heir’s words or feelings when she had pushed him. Yes. The heir, that damned devil….

He had deeply lamented that the young lady had committed suicide. As if by committing suicide, the young lady had lived out her life. As if he himself was the one who had been killed because of it.

Ah, nonsense. Griselda desperately tried to cut off the heir’s sorrowful groans in her mind.

How is it possible to intentionally lose one’s memory? The young lady who experienced the tragedy only truly died on that day, years after her wedding night. She ended her life in the form of a child who couldn’t fully grow up. Like the Duchess who remained pale and still like an object except when having a seizure, we are all sacrificial lambs of a curse. Yes. We, all. We….

…..

…We?

Griselda’s face rapidly turned pale. The words she had mentally uttered grated in her mouth like thorns. She couldn’t understand herself. Why am I claiming to be a sacrificial lamb? What have I experienced to tie myself to the tragedy of the Duchenne mother and daughter? What do I have in common with them…. When her questioning reached that point, Griselda widened her eyes in disbelief at what she was hearing.

Swish….

In the dry night without a single raindrop falling, there was a sound of heavy rain.

She couldn’t move as she listened to the noise gradually filling her ear canal. She felt it. The scent of wet soil was vibrating throughout the inner chamber. Even the faint cry of a choked newborn was mixed in, clearly rising up from the stone floor. Although it was something she had experienced occasionally before, on this night even the subsequent sensations climbed up her fingertips.

Flesh.

Soft flesh being pressed down by her hand without even letting out a scream. That sensation.

The innocent life she had exchanged for Winfrid’s life, yes. It didn’t even know how to scream. Just like she herself on this night. Ah.

A pale flash crossed Griselda’s eyes.

“Your flesh feels good.”

The child she had saved whispered to her like that.

“Why don’t you make some sound? I… I like your insides so much.”

The child born from hatred penetrated her like that.

“Stop acting like a wooden doll.”

“……”

“Why… don’t you look pleased? Hm?”

“……”

“It was you who planted me….”

Winfrid had smiled thinly under the flowing sweat drops. That smile now struck down on Griselda’s head like a miserable thunderbolt. She couldn’t hold back the tears welling up. At that moment, she even forgot about the young lady. She felt like she was about to lose her mind at the fact that the child she had saved had killed her.

Yes. She remembered. She hadn’t closed the door to Winfrid’s bedroom. Her mind was in such a mess, like a beggar’s alms bowl, that she couldn’t bring herself to check. She hadn’t secured it properly. How could this not be a big deal? What mother wouldn’t be able to close her son’s door, to stop her son? Who would silently sneer at this, calling it ridiculous? Would the curse covering the Duchenne bloodline laugh? Would the Duchess in the afterlife laugh? Who.

This night.

This nightmare-like memory.

Who sent it to me?

“…I’m sorry.”

Could it be me? Is it my sin for loving you? She couldn’t even ask back. And so, apologies poured out without a target. At the sudden voice, the young lady who had been lying face down using Griselda’s back as a support, turned her head.

“I’m sorry….”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry….”

“I’ll forgive you, so you can stop apologizing.”

The young lady lowered her wet eyes and seemed to smile gently at her, then.

“What’s this? Why are you the one crying…?”

She asked with surprised eyes. Griselda looked back at the young lady. She couldn’t bring herself to answer. Her throat was completely blocked, feeling like her breath would burst. Her mind and body were shaken so belatedly. Ah, I…. I.

In truth, that moment was so painful I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t believe his touch as he groped me.

Why is he looking at me with such eyes? Ah. Because I simply couldn’t understand. Couldn’t understand…. This night. Griselda’s tears, frozen in sorrowful terror, couldn’t even flow. It was merely an awl growing as if to bore into the back of her eyes.

“You’re not an actor, so don’t exaggerate too much.”

“……”

“You’re making me uneasy for no reason? So don’t do this. I’m fine now….”

The young lady, unaware of the situation, gently chided her. Griselda, with a face turned blue, nodded like a doll. The spear that had grown in her heart had pierced her head, so she couldn’t possibly be in her right mind.

And strangely, to Griselda’s eyes, the young lady’s puzzled expression was the only thing emitting a faint light in that deep darkness. The young lady’s expression, though frightened, was so tree-like innocent and nonchalant that it felt extremely bizarre, and she somehow couldn’t bear it. Young lady, you….

Like me, knowing everything.

Being in a position where you can’t even ask about the circumstances, having such an overwhelming premonition that a night like tonight will never end….

It all felt like divine punishment.

***

The following morning.

Griselda immediately sought out the head steward. She persuaded the wrinkled old man that for the young lady’s safety, they should now post guards in front of the lady’s chambers. The head steward seemed displeased with her request. He’s not someone who wouldn’t know that these chambers are already left like a lonely island atop a tower, where no one’s gaze reaches and no one passes by. As an administrator, he probably didn’t want to waste precious funds. However, Griselda’s stubbornness was like iron wire. The head steward reluctantly agreed. Griselda headed towards the lady’s chambers, accompanied by two guards. Her knees were all trembling as she walked. At that moment, she was like a criminal walking towards the execution ground.

Seeing the heads of criminals who had gone before her stuck on the ends of long spears, smelling the rotten stench spreading from the moat to the fields. The scent of her imminent future. Imagining her miserable fate. Nevertheless, like offering a final prayer for salvation, she posted guards even while sensing it would all be in vain. I want to live. I want to live. I….

Want to live.

She asked repeatedly over the years. Is this the price the Duchenne family pays, a link in the curse aimed at them? Or is it just the price for my past sins? This murky and terrifying reality. Who indeed knows the answer.

But to Griselda, this whole world was nothing but a silently burning hell devoid of human presence. Not a single thin voice returned from anywhere. In the dead of night. Or at dawn when even the air is blue. Every time she received Winfrid, who unfailingly sought her out in the gaps when no one was around, she asked again and again with a burning heart. What on earth should we do….

To be even a little less unhappy?

God.

God.

Save us.