Timelock

by R. G. Knighton

  Toomak’s fascination with ingredients seemed to know no bounds and on one occasion, she nearly poisoned the entire household when she added a dose of the Hemlock plant to the family stew and it was only by chance that Mino spotted the empty bottle discarded near the cooking pot which she picked up and sniffed, instantly recognising the strong parsnip aroma. Toomak tearfully admitted to the crime, protesting that she was only trying to improve the flavour, as it smelled so good.

  “Show me Pappy.”

  A small voice said from behind Domrem as he sat at his workbench.

  Turning slowly and painfully around, Domrem spied a very recalcitrant Toomak, banned from his apothecary studio until further notice, but finding it impossible to keep away, she hoped to use the old man’s genial disposition to get it overturned.

  “You are not supposed to be in here young lady.”

  Chided the old man, wagging his finger in disapproval, but Toomak ignored the reprimand and climbed up onto his lap and hugged him around his neck while begging him to continue with her studies. Unable to refuse, Domrem let Toomak stay while he thought up a reasonable excuse to give to her father.

  Later that evening, over dinner Domrem gave a well-rehearsed speech on how, with proper teaching from him, Toomak would be unlikely to repeat the near fatal episode of last week and also she had a great talent for medicine.

  Surprisingly, Hajer agreed to his request, as he had no interest in that side of the business so to his surprise, Toomak became the youngest apprentice Domrem had ever had the pleasure to teach.

  Toomak’s thirst for knowledge was insatiable, even allowing for her young age she developed an eidetic memory for every colour, taste, feel, and smell any delicate aroma, emanating from the ingredients. Repeating preparative steps with amazing clarity, even sometimes beating Domrem when he had to refer to his notes to complete a prescription. Toomak now only experimented under the watchful eye of her grandfather and as the years progressed she refined his products further increasing their success rate, adding to the family’s wealth and social standing in the area.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Domrem’s reputation spread far and wide, even reaching the ears of the new Syrian governor. He soon demanded the old man’s presence to treat his wife who suffered from a chronic bowl disorder, which none of his Roman or Greek apothecaries seemed able to cure. Unable to refuse, Domrem, with permission from Hajer, took Toomak with him as an aid for his faltering eyesight.

  The look of surprise and disbelief on the faces of the congregation who feasted in the opulent Jerusalem residence added to the embarrassment of the governor as they witnessed, standing before him a crooked old man holding the hand of a young girl not old enough for her flush of womanhood.

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  The governor roared as Domrem and Toomak were introduced.

  “My wife needs a physician, not some doddering old fool, and a child. In the name of the God’s what must I do to ease her suffering in this accursed place? I fear for her life if these two imbeciles are allowed anywhere near her.”

  The guests laughed sycophantically, undecided whether their host was joking or serious. At his command, two guards moved forwards to remove Domrem and Toomak from the building and then throw them into the street. As Toomak turned to leave, the sunlight from a high window glinted off the polished surface of her amulet, catching the governor’s eye.

  “Wait, bring the child here.”

  One of the guards prodded Toomak with the hilt of his sword, pushing her forwards. The man sitting before her, through the power and wealth of his family, had risen to the rank of governor for the whole of Greece. But in disgrace, he was demoted to this lesser eastern province as punishment for poor economics. Millions had disappeared from the country's budget leaving experts bewildered as to where it had all gone. The truth was that Quirinius had been siphoning off tiny untraceable amounts from every public fund, buying gold and jewellery at wholesale prices then hiding chests of illegally purchased loot all over Greece. Banished from ever setting foot in this ancient land again left him unable to personally recover his hoard and every time he hired men to retrieve a chest of treasure they never returned. For comfort, he turned to food and now this extremely overweight man sat on the edge of his padded stone chair with his bulbous belly hanging down between his open legs. Toomak noticed how his bald head sweated profusely in the heat, as did the rest of his body, staining his white tunic around the armpits and huge sagging neck. She wrinkled her nose from the scent of his strong body odour wafting her way, turning her head away in disgust.

  “That’s a pretty necklace you have there, child. Will you show it to me?”

  The governor asked as he wiped his face with a cooling wet flannel. Toomak snapped her head back to face the front and instinctively crossed her arms, covering the amulet on her budding chest.

  “Come on my dear, don’t be shy, don’t you want to show off your pretty trinket?”

  The governor whispered, grinning to reveal a mouthful of brown stained and rotten teeth. Toomak stepped backwards in fear only to feel the sharp point of the guard’s now unsheathed sword between her shoulder blades. The guard pressed harder forcing Toomak closer towards the insidious man. Licking his lip’s the governor slowly looked her up and down, chilling Domrem to the bone at what he might be thinking and he tried to intervene but another guard held him firmly back by his arms. Toomak now stood less than two feet from this odious blob of a man who ordered the guard to pin Toomak’s arms to her side while he reached out his pudgy left hand and unceremoniously lifted the amulet from around Toomak’s neck.

  “Throw them out.”

  He ordered, giving a derisory flick of the wrist as if to dislodge something that was sticking to his chubby fingers.

  “Give it back you thief.”

  Screamed Toomak, in a futile wrestling match with the guard who was three times her size and weight. Annoyed at Toomak’s insolence the governor jumped to his feet with the speed of a man half his size and roared,

  “Do you know who I am? I am Publius Sulpicius Quirinius. In the name of the Roman Empire, I rule Syria, I rule Judea and it may come of a surprise, brat, I rule you!”

  Everyone remained stunned and silent as the governor continued his rant. His face now turned a rich shade of purple from the audacity of Toomak’s accusation of theft. Amazingly, in a heartbeat his mood calmed as his twisted mind hatched an idea. Playing to the crowd, the governor began.

  “I’ll tell you what my child, I am not an unreasonable man, I will buy this trinket from you. Don’t you all think that’s fair?”

  The governor raised his eyes to his captive audience who agreed readily, enjoying the release from the boring party. They all knew of the governor’s terrible temper that could be triggered at the slightest provocation, and did not want to be the next one on the receiving end.

  Looking around, his gaze fell upon a bowl of mixed fruit sited on a small side table next to his couch and as his colour paled to its usual blotchy pallor the governor’s mouth spread into an evil grin. Reaching out, his hand hovered six inches above the bowl where he slowly rubbed the tips of his fingers with his thumb while pondering over which fruit to pick. He finally settled on a solitary red grape, which he plucked from the arrangement and offered it to Toomak as payment.

  “Open wide.”

  He ordered, smiling as he tried to place the fruit in the child’s mouth. Toomak clamped her teeth together, turning her head away as she fought with the guard who effortlessly held her in place.

  “Hold her head still you idiot.”

  The governor ordered, so the guard transferred both of Toomak’s hands into one massive gladiatorial manus then with his other he clamped his powerful fingers over the top of Toomak’s skull, holding her as still as if she lay in a vice. With her head secure, the governor placed the thumb and index finger of his right hand either side of Toomak’s lips and squeezed hard, forcing the soft flesh of her cheeks between he
r upper and lower sets of teeth. To reduce the pain, Toomak reluctantly eased open her jaw and panted hoarsely in rage, spraying spit and drooling from her twisted lips onto the marble floor.

  Eager for excitement the guests moved closer for a better view as the governor whispered.

  “Right, you little bitch, you are going to take this as payment, you are going to swallow it and then you are going to say thank you and leave, or I may have to slit you open and place it directly into your belly myself.”

  In rapt silence, everybody watched the governor crudely attempt to push the grape into Toomak’s open mouth, but in a flash Toomak jerked her head free and clamped her teeth firmly down on the soft web of flesh between the thumb and index finger of the hand holding her mouth. The bite was swift and clinical; her incisors slicing clean through the sweaty skin, cutting a perfectly symmetrical, scalloped edged parcel of flesh from the governor’s hand.

  Squealing like a pig, the governor stepped back and clutched his injured hand to his chest as the blood poured out through his fingers and collected in the crook of his arm. To everyone’s muffled amusement, they all watched as tears welled up and ran down his chubby cheeks, soaking into his beard. Offers of assistance came from all quarters but he angrily refused any help as he watched the guard dragging Toomak away from her prey. Domrem stared horrified and shaking at what possible recriminations the governor would conjure up, guessing death would soon come to both of them.

  Toomak looked remarkably composed as she spit out the pathetic morsel of skin onto the shiny marble floor but Domrem could see the defiant look in her eyes that would offer no help in sparing their lives in this dire situation.

  The governor sat down and whimpered like a child as he finally allowed his hand to be prised from the front of his blood stained tunic.

  “Be careful you imbecile.”

  He yelled as he cuffed an aid who attempted to tend to his wound. When he finally allowed his hand to be treated the aid dressed the wound too tightly, stemming the flow of blood, further adding to his discomfort as it throbbed mercilessly. Channelling his pain into a thunderous rage, he now turned and marched across the floor to confront a quaking Domrem and surprisingly passive Toomak. Domrem dropped to his knees, begging for forgiveness.

  “I beseech you sire, take my life but spare the child.”

  Domrem tried to kiss the governor’s feet but he shrieked and theatrically jumped back with a nimble grace for such a huge man.

  “I fear for my toes should the mouth of anyone else from your accursed household come into contact with my body.”

  The fascinated assembly chuckled in amusement at the governor’s quick wit, easing the tension of the situation. Revelling in the attention, he continued to play along in the situation.

  While people fussed around tending to the governor, guards dragged Toomak back across the floor but not before she managed to hook her heel into the chain of the amulet, which the governor dropped in shock when she bit his hand. Falling to the floor in mock subjugation, Toomak replaced the chain around her neck and tucked the amulet into her tunic, and when attention returned to her and her grandfather, she slowly stood up and stared directly into the governor’s steely gaze.

  “Give me your sword.”

  The governor ordered to one of the guards who quickly unsheathed his weapon and handed it to him, hilt first. Angrily snatching the handle, he paraded around the floor, thrusting, parrying, and slashing the blade through the air, exhibiting his swordsmanship. After accepting the applause from his guests, he marched across the floor, stopped in front of Toomak and raised the lightweight two-foot blade over his head in the classic military pose. Anticipating a blood fest from this truly sadistic man, the noise in the room fell to a deathly hush as he paused with the sword at its zenith, ready to strike down and cleave straight through the head and torso of Toomak’s tiny frame. Domrem tried to speak only to have his mouth clamped by a guard’s hand, leaving him to plead with tear stained eyes with his hands held out in a silent prayer. The pause was endless, Toomak rather than cowering in fear, held the gaze of her soon to be executioner while she held on to the amulet hidden under her vest as tightly as he held onto the handle of his sword. Beads of sweat erupted, pouring down from the governor’s bald head as the furious man tried to strike but somehow found it impossible. Gritting his teeth, his flabby face and neck fermented into a rich shade of puce as he fought against his sword arm that seemed frozen in mid strike. Violently shuddering the governor grunted in frustration as a wave rippled up his body, starting at his feet and ending at the fingers gripping his sword that now waved about uncontrollably, flashing the blade in the sunlight. Suddenly for the governor, everything turned black as his heart fibrillated from over exertion. Releasing his grip and dropping the sword, the blade sliced through the fabric covering his shoulder, nicking his skin as it fell behind him. Landing point first, the razor sharp tip chipped the marbled stone floor as it clattered loudly down. The temporary blackout allowed the governor to free himself from Toomak’s gaze and he staggered back to his chair in front of his bemused guests while breathlessly ordering his guards to take Toomak and her grandfather away before collapsing exhausted into the arms of his astonished wife.

  Toomak and Domrem were quickly surrounded by guards, hoisted up under the upper arms and frogmarched out of the governor’s villa into the hot afternoon sunshine. Ignoring any plea from the old man, the soldiers half carried their prisoners through the gardens and dropped them both into a punishment pit; kept in the grounds of the army barracks sited across the road. Luckily neither was injured as their fall was broken by the mass of people already imprisoned and huddled together awaiting their fate.

  The night passed slowly, neither of them able to sleep from the noise of gibbering fools talking to themselves then suddenly crying out loudly for no apparent reason. Domrem made up his mind that he would tell the governor it was himself who caused the fit and Toomak had nothing to do with it, In fact, she was a simpleton who had no control over her actions. The next morning a guard lowered a sling into the pit with the order for Toomak to hook it under her armpits and he raised her to the surface.

  “My Pappy!”

  Toomak cried as Domrem was raised up also but taken in the opposite direction and placed in a nearby cell. The guard would not answer any of Toomak’s questions as he dragged her squealing and kicking back into the governor’s abode. Once more she stood in the now almost empty main hall of the governor’s villa. Without warning, a roughly sewn sack was thrust over Toomak’s head and drawn tightly around her neck. Panicking In the semi-darkness, she spun around to the sound of footfalls and muffled voices coming closer. Suddenly, a hand slapped into the middle of her back and stepping forwards from the blow; she tripped over an outstretched leg, sprawling helplessly to the floor.

  “What are you?”

  Commanded a loud voice that Toomak instantly recognised belonged to the governor. Convinced that Toomak’s stare caused his spasm, he ordered her head to be covered out of fear for a repetition of yesterday’s ordeal. Toomak remained silent, unsure what to do or say when he spoke again, this time louder.

  “I said what are you? A witch, a spirit, or a goddess in human form sent to punish me.”

  Toomak lay panting and remained silent.

  “WELL!”

  The governor shouted his voice echoing around the almost empty hall as Toomak felt the sole of his sandaled foot pressing down on her outstretched fingers as she lay on the floor. Toomak gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out while shedding concealed tears of anger as the pressure increased. The governor leaned forwards adding more of his considerable weight down onto Toomak’s hand until she shrieked as the pain became unbearable and a bone in her little finger cracked under the pressure.

  “None of them.”

  She screamed, trying not to cry in pain and frustration.

  “I just have a gift, that's all.”

  The pressure on her fingers ceased and she was roughl
y lifted back to her feet and allowed to cradle her injured hand while listening to the governor’s voice.

  “I will make a deal with you witch. You stay with me and use your powers for my benefit, that is for mine alone and no one else, and I will spare your life and that of your grandfather. Also the rest of your family will not be sold into slavery. Do we have a deal?”

  Toomak had no option but to accept with the added verbal addendum never to look the governor in the eye ever again or her family will be killed. The governor then ordered for Domrem to be informed of the arrangement then released. For three days Domrem waited outside the governor’s residence, begging and pleading to be heard but all requests were refused and at a loss for any other idea, he sadly returned home without his beloved granddaughter.

  To his surprise Domrem found that his son accepted the news with a calm resignation, Hajer privately knowing that the day had finally come, believing this to be the fulfilment of the immoral deal that he accepted on the day of Toomak’s birth. Psyom however was beside herself with grief, unable to accept that in time her precious daughter would ever return to the bosom of her family. Overnight her personality changed completely from a mild and gentle woman to that of a cold spiteful harridan. Domrem never forgave himself for taking Toomak on that fateful day and in his distress withdrew from the world. He shut himself away in his workshop during the day, would not join the family for meals, and retired directly to his bedroom in the evening. He even refused to see any patients and only dispensed his medicines on a transcription of the patient’s ailments. This new arrangement failed more times than it succeeded as an actual examination of the patient was more than often required and his reputation quickly diminished until eventually no more clients came to his door. Hajer meanwhile reacquainted himself with his old trading contacts and managed to buy and sell merchandise to keep the family in their accustomed comfort.