Chapter 5
My task is to wash the dust, dirt, and clotted blood off this poor wretch.
My hands are shaking!
Quirinus said this would last three days. But I am almost certain I am walking to tend to a corpse.
I walk with a prepared bucket of water and a sponge. There is no one left on the training grounds; everyone has dispersed. I slowly approach the warrior, who kneels motionless before the massive wooden stake. I am afraid to step any closer. Just looking at him triggers my gag reflex. The problem is, I cannot afford to show weakness.
If I do not do this, I will end up in his place!
I take another step. I clearly see the dark streaks where streams of blood flowed. I stop half a meter from him and strain my eyes, just to make sure he is still alive.
He is breathing!
I feel relief and growing anxiety at the same time. It is unbelievable that he survived nearly two hours of uninterrupted battering. Unfortunately, since he is still breathing, he will have to go through all of it once again.
I feel like something is stuck in my throat. I cannot even swallow my saliva. I slowly set the bucket down and soak the sponge in the cold water. I was given nothing better. I now stand before him. I stop my hand with the sponge just above his body.
Maybe I should warn him before I begin?
After a moment, I decide it is pointless. I have no time for hesitation. I have a task to complete.
I slowly press the wet sponge to his back. I am terribly startled when he suddenly trembles and shrinks away, flinching from the touch.
I am such an idiot!
It did not occur to me that he might be tense, anticipating another strike of the whip. Overcoming my fear and feeling only pity, I walk around to face him.
"I do not know if you can hear me, but I am Malvira. I came to wash you."
I am not entirely sure if my words are reaching him at all. I cannot even make out his features. His face is hidden beneath a layer of sand, blood, and the dirty blindfold.
Suddenly, a shiver runs through my body. I reach out with a trembling hand and pull the fabric off his face. He opens his eyes.
He is looking right at me! What now?!
He sees me shaking and panicking, rooted to the spot. He tries to say something, but his mouth is still gagged. He blinks at me frantically, and only then do I understand what he means. I slowly pull the saliva-soaked rag from his mouth.
"Thank you..." a quiet, raspy whisper reaches me. "Do not worry about me."
"I must wash you."
I hear him exhale loudly. I think he understood what I meant. Now he does not even look at me; he just remains silent with his head bowed.
I do not want to be here a minute longer!
I return to what I came here for in the first place. I soak the sponge and, slowly at first, very gently wipe his back. This time he does not flinch and endures my every movement in silence. I wash away the filth more boldly. Beneath the dried crust, skin emerges, and I see a terrifying network of scars adorning his body. Something, however, gnaws at me.
I do not believe it...! I see no fresh wounds anywhere!
"My wounds have already healed."
"That is impossible! I saw him butcher you! I saw blood spurting everywhere!"
"And now you see only scars."
"That... I... I do not understand..."
I cannot comprehend how a man who was brutally tortured just moments ago can be so eerily calm.
"This is just how I am," he answers, as if reading my mind. "It is not my first time."
My jaw drops. What I just heard is as inhuman as this entire slaughter. I quickly return to work, my mind reeling. I finish. Wordlessly, I gather my equipment and turn to return to my master.
"Thank you."
I pretend not to hear him. I quicken my pace. I am terrified.
This cannot be real...!