I know what your thinking... Its not Thursday. But yest still here's another short chapter;
‘My Love’ The Cup Bearer entered the tent and found her husband in their bed laying on his side shivering. It was a hot day and she didn’t know how he could bare the heat from being under all those covers. She put the wooden cup down and lay herself next to him.
‘What's the matter my love?’
‘This Time is too violent; death, disease and suffering are too commonplace. I thought by conquering the world I'd build a utopia but I didn't think of cost of doing so?’
‘Come now my love I've prepared you a brew.’ The Cup Bearer reached for her charge.
Her husband sat up and looked at her with mistrust. ‘A brew, what brew? What have you brewed?’
‘My love it pains me to see you weak. I've prepared a brew which The Cook taught me when The Farmer First took me. It fortifies your soul.’
They had been speaking in English as they did in private but her husband looked confused by her words ‘I don't understand how does it fortify my soul? Is it wine or mead?’ She was pleased to hear that he was sceptical of her brew and her motives. This meant that he still had the will to live, those who lost that rarely survived long. She'd witnessed strong and proud slaves, who couldn't reconcile with their incarceration, whither away. Not even The Brew would have help them.
‘Yes it's like wine or mead except it's made with sacred ingredients and the effects are different. Drunkenness empowers your body but dulls your mind. The Brew empowers your soul and helps you to see.’ She could see he still didn't trust her so she brought her cup to her lips and drank half its contents. The flavour was always vile she could never get used to it.
Her husband stared at her for a full minute and she held his gaze. Once he was satisfied she had consumed the liquid without harm he took the Cup and drank. His face contorted with disgust and he looked at her with horror as he associated the taste with poison.
The Brew in her stomach had begun to do its work and she looked at his horrified face and started to giggle. He looked to her like a lost child.
‘Why are you laughing?’ he asked.
‘Why would I poison myself to poison you?’
He looked abashed ‘Yes that was a stupid thought.’ He started to laugh too. She saw a vivid wave of purple radiate from his stomach and she knew The Brew was taking hold of him too.
He stopped laughing suddenly, as the purple hit his eyes, ‘What was in the brew?’ He asked. He looked scared again.
She moved over to him and held him, moving behind him. Kissing his neck to sooth him. The Brew was strong but she was accustomed to its ways. She would guide Her Husband's journey. She pointed to a tattoo on the back of his thumb gently tapping his knuckle.
He brought his hand up to his face and struggled to focus on the tattoo. After a moment he recognised it and after what may of been a lifetime or a second he said ‘oh...’