* * *
In the pen, Constanta was bored. Living on her father’s farm had meant a life of nearly constant work from morning to evening: rise in the morning, eat, work all day, eat in the evening, sleep. Sunday service, some holidays around the year and a lighter workload during the winter were about all she’d known of idleness since as long as she could remember.
The life in the pen, on the other hand, was almost entirely idleness, and Constanta was not the type of child that had learned to entertain herself. To stave off the boredom most of the people of the pen, besides sleeping and eating, mostly gambled and had sex. Others were more creative with their time: organizing entertainment such as singing and theatrical performances; others carved designs and pictures into the wall; others sought ways to access previously inaccessible stalactites that lined the ceiling, hoping to make their fortune; some fruitlessly plotted ways to escape; many told stories; and many simply sat around and talked, gossiping and complaining. None of this was for Constanta, though.
She sat and watched several men carving a massive crucifix and altar into one wall of the arena under Sister Oana’s direction. Oana had begun her planned work and was employing the labor of several men to carefully chip away at the rock with crude stone tools. She paid the men, but they were mostly just glad to have something interesting to do. The crude tools made the work painfully slow, and it was only due to several persons devoting themselves with near constant labor that they made any progress.
Constanta turned around when she heard the sound of Dragomir’s approach. He limped towards Oana, flanked by an entourage, including two intimidating thugs that he used to punish and intimidate recalcitrant dissenters and two of the women from his harem, both pregnant. Oana stood at the foot of the wall overseeing the work and relaying instructions when he announced, “Oana, I have to speak with you.”
Oana turned around to face Dragomir and looked back at him impatiently as he prepared to speak, “Oana, I am concerned that you have made no effort to impregnate yourself since you arrived.”
Dragomir acted as the hand of the vampires within the pen. The persons of the pen, some three quarters of whom were women, adamantly resisted pregnancy, none wanting to bring a child into the world of the vampire’s pen, such that great force had to be applied to overcome this resistance.
“I am not going to break my vow of virginity,” Oana told him, “So you can quit being concerned.”
Dragomir’s two thugs, started to step forward, but Dragomir stopped them. He had been reluctant to use physical force on a woman of God due to some residue of piety still lurking inside him.
“Then you will be marked for slaughter,” he threatened.
“So be it,” Oana replied with indifference, “Better to be dead than break my vow.” She turned her back to Dragomir and his entourage and shouted at the men who were working for her to get back to work.
“I’ll give you another week. That’s it,” Dragomir shouted at her, red with ire. Though he was infuriated with her, this week of reprieve was generous. Truth was that her unique popularity as a preacher made dealing with her particularly delicate, but he told her with perfect earnestness just before he walked away, “I won’t wait forever.”
Crina arrived as Dragomir left. She gave Dragomir a scathing look as she passed him and said to Constanta after approaching her, “That loathsome man.”
She commented after looking up at the carving on the wall, “It’s such a waste of labor. We could put it to such better use.”
“That’s an impious thing to say,” Constanta responded with a frown.
“Perhaps,” Crina replied, “But I have something I want to show you. Do you have some free time to sneak away?”
“Why not?” Constanta shrugged indifferently.
Crina gave Constanta a hand to help her stand up, and she held onto her hand as she led her out of the arena. Turning through several intersections and into caves that Constanta was unfamiliar with, Crina led her deeper into the pen. Beyond the arena and the barred room, light was scarce, and as they delved further away from these rooms, they slowly descended into a pitch blackness that was absolute. Crina continued to hold Constanta’s hand, since she knew the way even through the darkness, and Constanta asked nervously, “You sure you know where you’re going.”
Crina ignored the question and instead told Constanta, “I don’t want you to think I’m an impious person. I have nothing against what Oana is doing, but I think you’ll understand when I show you that there are better uses of her money.”
In the darkness they began to hear the increasing sound of a scraping and pounding, like rock being knocked against rock. At one point when they appeared to be almost right next to the sound, Crina stopped and told Constanta, “We’re here.”
Crina pulled out a piece of flint and she struck it in a way that it created a spark. The corner of the cave was dimly illuminated for only a moment, but it was bright and clear enough for Constanta to see what was there. Crina created another spark, and Constanta saw three figures using crude stone tools similar to the ones being used to carve the crucifix in the arena. Instead of carving, though, they were digging upwards into the rock.
“We’ve been doing this for a long time,” Crina said, “We’ll eventually reach the surface. I don’t know how long it’ll take, since it don’t know how deep we are. Months, years, maybe. Then again, we might be mere days away.”
Crina created another spark, and Constanta could see that they had made a wide hole several foot-lengths deep into the ceiling, and they continued to make progress as they slowly chipped away at the rock.
“I’m showing this because I hope you could help out. Whatever labor you can provide would help. And if you can persuade Oana to provide some laborers or labor herself that would help even more. We just need people we can trust. Dragomir cannot find out about this. If he finds out, he’ll tell the vampires, and the vampires will track us down and probably kill us. Can you help?”
“I can,” Constanta replied, “But I am rather small.”
“No problem,” Crina responded with a smile, “We cater to all sizes.” Constanta heard a scraping sound as Crina pushed something underneath the hole for Constanta to stand upon. Crina placed a tool in Constanta’s hand and guided her through the darkness up the ladder. The man she replaced sat down to rest while Constanta felt around with her hands, and Crina gave her a quick spark to help her see. Once she was ready, Constanta began to pound away at the rock. The sound reverberated and echoed around her with every blow, and bits of rock rained upon her.
Elixir of Flesh Page 42