Violya

Chapter 3 Jessima-4

The woman slapped Jessima’s hand away. She laughed wildly, and hiccoughed.

Shocked, Jessima clutched her stinging hand to her chest. Drunk, the woman’s drunk. That was a male habit. It was not the proper thing for respectable women to be drunk in Fertilian. Perhaps the Lianite women had taken on more than just their men’s work. They’d taken on their manly habits too.

Two of the King’s soldiers came forward to accost the woman, grabbing her aggressively. The woman yelped.

“No,” Jessima said, upset by the notion that this woman might suffer violent punishment in the soldiers’ hands. “Leave her be. Let her speak.”

The soldiers stepped back and the woman stuck out her tongue at them.

“My Queen, my pretty Queen,” the woman slurred. “The only thing me and my friends here want to know, is when our menfolk are coming home. Do you know?”

“My husband and family are also fighting in the war, and I eagerly await news from them. When it comes, I will be sure to share it with you,” Jessima said and smiled.

The drunk snorted. She pointed a finger at Jessima. “You don’t know anything, do you? Beneath that beauty, you’re stupid. Spineless. You’re speaking words someone else told you to and don’t even know the meaning of them. Can’t think for yourself, can you? Your job is to sit pretty, to do as you’re told. A puppet! Look around. No one cares what a toy has to say…”

A steward came on stage and gestured urgently for Jessima to leave. At the side of the stage, Jessima spotted Ernie desperately waving at her to exit. The soldiers closest to the ranting woman put their hands on their swords and edged forward, but the drunk woman wouldn’t be deterred.

Spittle flew from her lips as she continued, “Bet you didn’t even dress yourself. Can’t even take care of your own body. Bet that babe will go straight to suckle on the breast of another woman. Can’t even feed your offspring.”

Embarrassment bit at Jessima’s cheeks as she hurried from the stage. Is this really what the people think of me? Are they that disinterested in what I have to say?

“Go on,” the woman jeered, “run away. Go and hide from your problems, your inadequacies, from ever taking any responsibility for anything important.”

The queen was bundled into a waiting carriage, the handmaids stuffing her skirts and long train in after her. As she was taken away, the drunk woman’s final words rang in her ears.

“We don’t need a doll, we don’t need you! We need a queen, a leader – someone – who gives a shit.”