by Fiona Cavell
The following morning Sicarus was there and saw her injuries, for which he apologised when he eventually spoke to her. He again brought presents of beautiful flowers, exotic fruits and fine clothes for the children, and was extra attentive to the family. He played with the children, making them laugh and sing, and brought healing potions to help Fiona’s wounds. This time one of her wounds did not heal properly but turned into an ugly red scar across her shoulder, serving as a constant reminder of the bird’s temper. Sicarus again made excuses for the bird’s conduct; the second baby was, after all, Fiona’s idea. She was the one who had wanted Jegudiel and had put extra pressure upon Sicarus to find them food and provide for them, let alone all the added pressure of a crying baby stopping him sleeping properly.
Fiona looked at Jegudiel, so innocent and beautiful, a gift from heaven, but now an unwanted gift that she couldn’t return. “I wish you hadn’t been born,” she sobbed silently to herself as she gazed at the joint most precious thing in her life. Gabrielle and Jegudiel were all Fiona truly loved now. Gone was her regard for the handsome, magical stranger she had first laid eyes on a few years earlier; gone were her hopes and dreams of exciting adventures in faraway places. All she wanted was to have a hut in her village with a brightly coloured door and never go back to her treetop house made of sticks and her life of captivity.
As time passed, Fiona was alarmed to notice Sicarus’ accidental transformations became more frequent; at first monthly, then more like weekly, and then almost every day. Things she wouldn’t expect to set him off made him angry, such as asking him when he was going to bring food back, but on other occasions she would ask the same question and get a reasonable response. The not knowing when she would be attacked or how severe it would be caused her anxiety which was almost, but not as bad as the attacks themselves. The attacks always took the same pattern: anger, transformation into the bird, pecking, scratching, screaming, bleeding, flying away, returning as Sicarus, sometimes sorrow, sometimes blame.
But one day, the pattern changed.
Chapter Four
Fiona guessed that she had been attacked by the bird on at least forty occasions, although she had lost count. But never by Sicarus. Until one night as they lay together in the tree house. Both children were asleep, there was nothing for Sicarus to get angry over, and so this attack was the most shocking and the most brutal. He started to scratch her back with his fingernails, retracing old scars caused by the bird.
“Please, Sicarus, stop it; you are hurting me,” she whispered, trying not to wake the children. But he didn’t. She pleaded with him, she tried to bargain with him, she tried reasoning with him, crying, but nothing would stop him. He dug in his nails, furrowing into her skin following the lines of past attacks, drawing tracks of blood. She was too worried to scream out, partly for fear of the children waking and partly because he might turn into the bird and she was so frightened of what would happen if he did. But she later realised Sicarus was in fact as dangerous, if not more, than the bird.
She fought to stop him, trying to force his arms away from her, but he was too strong, and it made him dig in harder. She knew he was going to hurt her in the worst way possible as he started to tear at her clothes. He ripped her clothes just as the bird had torn her flesh. There was no mercy. Only his desire to find a victim and overpower her. To cause her deep fear and draw the very life out of her. To make her his and torture her body and weaken her mind. To treat her as an object of his depraved fantasy and play his sick games. Fiona thought of herself as a mouse being tossed up in the air by a cat, playing with its prey over and over, almost allowed to go free, hoping it could struggle to get away, but being caught again by its clever predator, and wooed into the dance of death.
The more she struggled, the more he seemed to enjoy hurting her, and eventually she gave up and let her exhausted body rest. Her mind was still as the attack went on and she realised she was unable to protect herself. Now she could see clearly as her mind flashed back to the horror she felt when she met his savage parents, birds devouring and destroying an innocent creature.
Sicarus was not a man who could magically transform into a bird. He was a bird who could pretend to be a man.
Suddenly it all made sense and she realised she had been fooled. How could she have been so stupid? She cursed herself for not seeing any of the warning signs. His parents were vile creatures who had made her feel sick, and yet at the time she hadn’t been able to see that he was the same as them. She had been fooled into thinking he was special and that she deserved to live a life different to the others in her village. Well, she certainly had that now. With hindsight she would have been far better off marrying any one of the boring boys from her village, even one of the not-so-attractive ones, because she would have been safe. And now she wasn’t safe, and neither were her children. He was attacking her and all she could do was wait until it was over and regret ever meeting him.
After the attack was over, Sicarus smiled and settled down to sleep. Fiona’s mind and body felt sick and she knew she had to get away. She could never go through that again. She could never let him touch her again; she never wanted to see him again. What he had done to her was beyond horror. He had forcibly taken her body, and with it her very soul had been taken too. She had no feelings. She had nothing left. She had been violated by him. In the past she had offered him her body voluntarily, desiring him to take her, to show her love but instead he had shown her violence. Then the love had gone and been replaced with power and control. She hated him now.
She didn’t want to leave the children in his care, but there was no way she could get them down the rope ladder. They would surely fall to their deaths. She shuddered, torn and heartbroken, contemplating whether it would be better if she fell to her death. Her life was unimportant now; she was just an empty shell. She wanted to die. To end the pain she was feeling. She knew it would never go away until she died. Death was the only answer, it beckoned her; she just had to jump, and the pain would end there. But she couldn’t leave the children. They were her life, and she had given them life. She couldn’t abandon them with no mother, no one to guide and protect them, to love them and be there for them. No one to stop the bird or Sicarus harming them.
She resolved to get away, find help, and whoever she found would help her get her children back. They would then be safe and away from the bird forever. For now, the children would have to remain sleeping. She went over to where they slept, their angelic faces shining. “I promise on my life I will be back soon, my darlings,” she whispered. “I will never abandon you.” She was so scared that Sicarus would find her gone and take it out on the children. Her only hope was that she had not yet seen him hurt his own children; it was only ever her.
She crept down the rope ladder, unable to see in the midnight sky. Even the moon was hiding tonight. With each step down she felt she would lose her footing and fall, but eventually she stood on the forest floor, the cruel twigs cutting into her feet as she commenced the journey back to her village. Fiona had never walked there before, although she had flown above it so she knew the route, following every familiar landmark, the hills, the riverbank, recognising familiar rocks which seemed far larger from the ground.
By sunrise she wasn’t even halfway home. The children would wake soon, wondering where she was. Her heart sank. She was tired, hungry, thirsty and cold, her feet were blistered and cut, and every injury Sicarus had inflicted on her the night before throbbed and ached. But she had to carry on. Her feet hurt so much that eventually she could no longer take her own weight on them and she continued on all fours, although her hands were equally injured. She crawled through the forest, hoping each step wouldn’t be her last. At times she longed to give up, to give way to the dark earth and let her body be taken for a second time. The thought of her beautiful children was the only thing that prevented her from dying. She struggled on. The pain she felt was unbelievable, but she had no other choice.
She concentrated on the angelic faces of her children to keep focused, moving hands and feet in a rhythm similar to those of the drums played at the funeral when someone died in her village.
Fiona eventually turned up at her village ripped, ragged, haggard, exhausted and completely drained. Her mother greeted her with a blanket and some water. “We have been so worried,” she cried. “Sicarus is here with the children and has explained everything. We can’t believe you abandoned your children like this. You must be very ill. You were very foolish trying to persuade him to have another baby; he says you are probably a few days pregnant and your hormones must have caused you to go insane.”
Sicarus appeared, smiling. “My God, Fiona, what have you done to yourself? I’m so glad you have come back to us.”
Fiona collapsed, and he caught her in his arms and carried her with those broad shoulders back to her parents’ hut, where she slept for many hours.
Chapter Five
When she awoke Fiona tried to tell everyone that Sicarus was a bird, but no one listened. “You’re delirious,” her father said gravely. “You nearly lost your life, and if you are not careful you will lose your children; you must think of the unborn one. Sicarus has told us how reluctant he was when you begged him for another baby, and how he thinks you have taken on too much, but he has promised to stand by you. He is so kind.”
Fiona tried to protest that she hadn’t wanted another baby, hadn’t wanted any of this and Sicarus had overpowered her, but Sicarus spoke over her and told everyone how crazy she had been acting lately. As soon as she was rested, they would need to get her back into her normal routine, which would no doubt ease her mental illness. He would look after her.
Outside the hut, Maggie, the wise woman who lived alone at the edge of the village, was listening. She knocked on the door and came in. “I have made you a handcrafted sling for your baby when it is born. The baby will feel close to you when you carry it around.”
Fiona was surprised to hear Maggie speak but thanked her and accepted it as a gift. Maggie would have been aware that Fiona was now an outsider and had nothing to trade with her. The kindness brought tears to Fiona’s eyes. Maggie then left without another word lowering her head to avoid eye contact with Sicarus.
Fiona turned to Gabrielle and Jegudiel. “Do you want us to go back to the forest with Daddy now?” Her eyes were pleading, hoping the children would sense her pain and realise their dad’s true nature, but they were too young. They only saw the flying, fun Daddy, and eagerly said they wanted to return. Fiona knew she had no choice but to go back.
Fiona felt ill. She didn’t want to go back to Sicarus, but what choice in real terms did she have? She couldn’t have her old life back; she was married with two children and a third on the way. She believed she no longer belonged in the village but had nowhere else to live. She had no trade, no independence. She had deliberately turned her back on village life, and not surprisingly, she did not feel that she was welcome back. She had chosen Sicarus, and now she must face the consequences no matter how awful they were. She felt that she deserved this life for being so foolish in the first place by falling in love with him. She bowed her head and allowed Sicarus to take them away. Her parents waved goodbye and were pleased their daughter was not separating from her children’s father as that would bring shame and conflict on the village, as it could involve decisions from a neighbouring village about occupancy of a hut or where and with whom the children should live, in accordance with the village customs.
*
Upon their return to the house made of sticks in the treetop, Fiona felt sick. She knew the wrath of Sicarus would be upon her and he would punish her for leaving. She just didn’t know when. At first, he was surprisingly nice to her, making her food and drink, playing with the children, but then after three days his anger came. Luckily the children were in bed when he turned into the bird. He pecked and scratched at her and showed no mercy. He screeched at her and dug his sharp claws into every inch of her skin. He stamped on her head, and she instinctively turned over to protect her unborn and unwanted baby. The bird then jumped on her back, and onto the very base of her spine and further down past her tail bone. To her horror he stayed there, pinning her to the floor and tearing at her clothes with his beak. The hard, persistent beak pecked deeper, burrowing into her, forcing her cheeks apart with crude and vile shrieks of pleasure as Fiona screamed in pain, unable to move for fear the bird would kill the tiny baby inside and towards the front of her. So she simply lay still and allowed the bird to attack her from behind. She could feel blood gushing from deep gashes the bird had created, running down and covering her legs, a cruel mock labour, which felt like her intestines were being ripped out.
When she could take no more, she turned over onto her bloodied back revealing her stomach, white and bare in surrender, her legs slightly open due to the horrific pain shooting though her, accepting that she had inevitably failed to protect her unborn child. She thought the bird would surely jump on her front, peck as deeply as it had on the other side and destroy the tiny baby within. But instead the bird jumped on her head again and kicked her in the face with those sharp talons, with such force it knocked her out.
When she regained consciousness, the bird had changed into Sicarus again. He told her that she had deserved punishing for leaving him and trying to turn others against him. He threatened that if she ever tried to leave him again, he would take her children and she would never see them again as he would persuade everyone that she was an unfit mother. Fiona shrunk, predicting that the villagers would obviously believe him given how everyone had reacted last time. No one had listened or believed her about the bird and she had instead come across as mad.
Just to make sure Sicarus said he would remove the rope ladder and she would never be able to leave the house. Fiona was finally trapped.
*
For the following months Fiona and the children were imprisoned in the house made of sticks high up in the trees. As Fiona’s belly swelled with the unborn baby growing daily, she became completely under Sicarus’ control. She dared not upset him and did everything he asked to try and keep him calm and prevent him from hurting the baby inside her. He still transformed into the bird often, but when he did she simply cowered in a corner, arms and legs protecting the baby. Sometimes he would fly off for days, leaving them without food so she and particularly the children were pleased to see him when he eventually returned with food and treats.
On one occasion the bird flew away for five days. Fiona had food for the children for probably two or three days at the most. On the fourth day both children cried for most of the day from hunger. Fiona did her best to comfort them, but she too was weak. On the fifth day she prayed and promised that if the bird would just return and feed the children and let them live, then he could have her life and she would gladly surrender it. But still he didn’t return.
Fiona was so desperate that she scoured the bin and the floor looking for food and picked up every crumb, mouldy and unwholesome, she could find. She offered the children these dirty scraps and they took them eagerly, begging for more. It reminded her of the wild animals, who lived in the forest, and the villagers who called them dirty, scrounging scavengers. She had sunk so low since her marriage that the original Fiona from the village, who would never marry, was fiercely independent and had her own occupation and ability to trade, was unrecognisable.
As the time approached for the baby to be born, Fiona started to prepare for its arrival. She found the handcrafted sling the wise old woman, Maggie, had given her, and unwrapped the little ribbons. She was surprised to find, inside the sling, a note stitched in twines which read:
ONE IN FOUR ARE BIRDS.
Chapter Six
Fiona spent the months following baby Duriel’s birth planning her escape with the children. She knew at least one person from the village believed her about the bird, and that was enough. She taught the older t
wo children to climb the tree, inch by inch, day by day, until she felt sure they could climb down safely. She hid away food and drink and made sure everything was prepared for their journey. Then finally she knew what she must do: wind the bird up so much that he didn’t come back for at least three days. That was enough time for her to reach the village with the children before Sicarus would come back, having starved them all and expecting them to be grateful to him for having returned.
That was easy enough. All she had to do was fail to give him his every desire. Be inattentive. When he demanded she got down on her knees to please him she said she was very sorry but couldn’t do it at that exact moment because she felt sick after the pregnancy. It worked like clockwork, and in his fury Sicarus turned into the bird, scratching her, pecking her, flapping around, causing a turmoil of unhappiness and abuse. Then he flew off, and this was her chance, her only chance. She told Jegudiel and Gabrielle that they were playing a game to see if their new-found tree-climbing skills could get them to the ground. Jegudiel was eager, but Gabrielle was uncertain. Fiona put baby Duriel in the sling and climbed down after the children; the sling she had also filled with food and treats.
Once on the ground, despite her new injuries she played a game with the children, saying that they would run along the riverbank and catch the moon. The children complained that they were tired, and the moon would always win, but she spurred them on towards hope. By sunrise she let them have a little sleep and some food, and fed baby Duriel, knowing that within twenty-four hours she would be free. On they travelled, and all the way, despite her desire to give up, she encouraged the children to carry on. This time she knew she would succeed as she had her children to look after. Being strong for others makes you far stronger in yourself.