Love & Conquests

Chapter 2

Doctor Luciano's carriage drove speedily along wet, muddy roads. His wheels were caked in mud and foul pieces of garbage strewn on the city streets, thanks to last night's rain and tolerable floods.

He ran a hand through his hair and huffed an impatient breath when the carriage stopped without notice and the driver pulled the door open in a rough-handed manner. He climbed out and instructed the driver to wait for him as this particular visit would be brief.

"Aye, sir," said the Esclavo, "but ye know how I feel 'bout forts like diz one. Had it not bin my gud fortune of meeting you, I'd be in de mines."

The Doctor stared at the fort behind him—an outdated structure at a height of 50 meters with a single tower, which hosted a bell at the top tier and at least 20 rooms for its guards and soldiers. The Fort's walls were at least, or rumors had it, 10 inches thick and had secret small chambers, which were used as prison cells and torture dens. But the Doctor knew these weren't as what they were per se. Nonetheless, he hated all the forts he had visited, especially this one. Out of all the Forts he'd come across, Fort Esperanza was the only Fort which could leave the Doctor feel grimy; and no amount of water and soap could wash away the filth he felt for days.

With his black, leather bag in tow, Luciano moved forward and looked up. On the top of the wall was a soldier standing guard, and seeing the doctor, the guard yelled to his comrades below to open the gate.

Chains jangled as the heavy, wooden gate slowly yawned open and dropped on the cobble with a crash. Standing by the gate's frame was Capitan Mariano with a cigar tipped in his mouth and a handful of soldiers behind him. 

"You're late," the Capitan said in a throaty, querulous tone. "I told you before your Esclavo isn't that good of a driver."

"It was the muddy roads, Capitan, not my driver's fault. And seeing as you're the Governor-general's son, it would be so kind of you to tell your father to do something about it. Now, where's the patient?"

The Capitan accompanied Luciano alone in one of the small, secret chambers hidden in the Fort's walls. With torch in hand, the Capitan led him into a damp room. There was a scent of rotting flesh inside, which brought tears to the doctor's eyes and forced him to fish out his handkerchief from his coat pocket and cover his nose. Beside him, the Capitan did the same.

A rattling of chains echoed in one corner of the room, and the Capitan directed his torch to it. "That's your patient," said the Capitan.

Doctor Luciano felt his throat close and his heart skip wildly. The patient, if he could even call it as that, had its arms chained to the wall. It was a crumpled, white figure with its head tucked between its knees.

"What happened?" the Doctor whispered in fear it might hear them.

"Another Esclavo that ran amok," was the clipped answer.

"D-did you execute Cortar on it?"

"Of course! That's just the right punishment for Esclavos, who think they are equal with their betters."

Luciano approached the patient and pressed two of his fingers on its wrist. There was a faint pulse, at least the Esclavo was still alive. He hated tending on patients who had been punished with Cortar. Always he would see in their eyes a dark, pensive look as though they had given up. But, then again, what was there to look forward to for an Esclavo?

The Esclavo, feeling the warmth from the doctor's fingers, looked up and opened her mouth, making incomprehensible, stupid sounds that made Luciano jump. The patient gargled in saliva and blood, and the doctor wanted to look away from her bloodied face and dark mouth.

Luciano gave pause to his nettled feelings and forced himself to give the patient a serious perusal as a doctor. The Esclavo was a she, he realized, malnourished, thin as a dry bone, and, to the doctor's horror, was holding a piece of black, decaying flesh in her fist.

"She's been holding onto her tongue for two days now since Cortar was executed on her. She must have thought she could put it back in her mouth," said the Capitan.

"Quick! Unchain her!" ordered the doctor.

"What? And have her beat herself again?"

"Beat herself?" echoed Luciano in wonderment.

The Capitan nodded. "She isn't chained to protect us from her. She's chained to protect her from herself. After executing Cortar, this wench kept on thrashing her stomach. She wouldn't stop until we dragged her into this room and chained her to the wall."

It seemed strange for a woman to cause herself harm, but why the stomach? The doctor, fearing for the patient's health, insisted she be unchained. The Capitan did so reluctantly.

The Esclavo's arms fell to her sides with a thump and she stood wobbly on weary legs. 

The doctor caught her in his arms and steadied her against the wall. "Slow down," he whispered.

The patient was small and petite, and looked like a worn sack cloth just like her clothes. He put his hands over her belly, wondering if she might have stomach cancer or ulcer. He didn't put his hands on her for too long. The Esclavo lurched forward and started gagging and spitting stomach acid. Luciano knew Esclavos hardly get to eat anything; food poisoning wouldn't be the cause of her vomiting.

"I need to take her to my clinic," the doctor pronounced.

"Whatever's plaguing her, is it contagious?" asked the Capitan hastily.

Luciano looked over his shoulder and noticed the Capitan's blanched face and startled expression. "As long as no one has come into contact with her, or exchanged bodily fluids with her, I'd assume everyone's safe in your Fort. For now, she's under observation."

"Exchange of b-bodily fluids, wh-what does that mean?"

"Copulation," the doctor impatiently said.

"D-doctor," stuttered the Capitan, "take her and leave. I-if you do find out what ails her, I must be the first one to know s-so I can warn my men."

Doctor Luciano ignored the quiver palpable in the Capitan's voice. He had quite enough of Fort Esperanza and the Capitan, who refused to help him carry the patient to his carriage. 

Once inside his vehicle, the doctor seated the patient across from him and placed a blanket over her lap. She looked horrible like the aswang or boogey man his Esclavo nanny described to him many years ago.

The carriage lurched forward, and the horses dragged the wheels in an easy strut, and their hooves clip-clopped as the doctor traveled back to his clinic.