Chapter 13) Nail to the Cross
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The Giant revealed himself to be a very faithful man. As a true Christian, he cherished the evangelical and found it necessary to spread the word of his God. The devotee put all his subjects through the torture of the Sunday services. Every soul living in and near the Castle was packed into the Gothic splendor of the chapel, built safely within the stone walls of the fortress. Heavy iron bound doors welcomed all attendees, even the forced ones.
Ivar and Piglet were stored away in the back of the chapel, far away from the altar and crucifix. While the slave maiden used her precious free time to close her eyes and doze off, Ivar used his for observation.
It surprised him that the Giant wasn't the master of the castle. The colossal being sat on the second row and made a cross to the statue of the supposed virgin and child. The first row was still empty and remained empty until the very last moment.
The ecclesiastical tones and whispers hushed simultaneously as a couple strolled in. Every single soul inside the chapel stood up, all except Ivar of course, who did his best to peek alongside elbows and hips to glaze at the pompous couple. The woman, draped from head to toe in silk with jewelries to match the expensive material, appeared bored out of her mind. Her second chin wiggled with every step she took. Her husband's belly was as bloated as his ego and was held in place by a leather belt engraved with gold and rubies.
Ivar's face fell as he realised that those two spineless, overindulged royalties were his rulers. Of course he'd rather get the plague than bow to the Giant, but at least the man had an imposing build and a personality to match. These two obese creatures matched in size with the pigs he took care of.
Piglet awoke from Ivar's squirming to see passed all the bystanders and noticed his focus on the couple.
"Duke de Haar," she whispered near Ivar's ear, "Duchesse de Haar," she carefully gestured towards the woman before rigorously spitting on the floor. Piglet's hostile reaction pleased Ivar, as he was forced to participate in a Christian ritual, it was nice to at least sit with a kindred spirit.
The service was endless, the priest mustered up words in such a dreadfully toneless voice Ivar had to pinch himself to stay away. By the time the man slapped the musty old prayer book shut, Ivar had counted all of the sixty two candle holders twenty seven times. But that was not the end, not by far and Ivar feared he was going to lose his mind underneath the eyes of the apostles printed into the stained glass of the high arched windows.
As a coin box passed between the rows, Ivar was plaguing his brain; the chapel had a few define scents, most he could place. Incense, flowers, musty stench of human sweat. But all weren't strong enough to mask the rotting scent of flesh in an advanced state of decay.
Piglet's eyes reopened and captured Ivar's scrunched up nose. Yawning, she patted her bare foot on the marble flooring. Ivar drew his gaze down and noticed the imprinted handwriting in the stones. Although he could not read the words, he did notice similarity in the lines and numbers.
Piglet noticed his struggle to put two and two together. She clutched her own throat and let her eyes roll back, then tapped her foot back down on the floor and waved her hand near her nose.
Ivar's eyes enlarged in disgust, were they sitting on top of rotting corpses? Did these people not give their dead a proper burial or burn their bodies? Why keep their corpses so close to their holy house?
Biting his lip, Ivar tried to will the stench away, but it was all consuming now that he knew the origin of it. Subconsciously, his fingers started to drum on the wooden pew. When he received angered glares from the peasants left from him, he let his fingers slide underneath the seat and clutched at the wood. Puffing his cheeks, Ivar wondered how long he still had to suffer through this Christian nonsense.
The people around him rose on their feet singing hymns for their one God. Ivar rolled his eyes while his fingers continued their drumming. Until a pinprick in his index finger paused his frustrated fidgeting.
There was a nail sticking out, right underneath his seat. Ivar inched forward and twined the nail between his thumb and index fingers, giving it a proper tug. The nail moved underneath his fingers and for the remaining time Ivar stretched the nail around and around.
As the churchgoers stood up for the last time, the nail finally gave in and quickly Ivar clasped his hands together, the rusty weapon-to-be safely hidden inside his palms.
Piglet brow rose up by his sudden devotion and snorted, probably seeing his act as a betrayal to their shared hatred towards the Christians.
"Amen," the slave maiden hissed through her teeth with enough disgust it could have been poison.
The service ended and slowly the Duke and Duchess rose and exited the chapel. Common folk followed like meek sheep. Piglet and Ivar were one of the last ones inside and Ivar took his time 'getting up' before sliding down onto the marble floor. With all the ogling eyes of the Churchgoers still fresh in his mind, he tried to silently leave the house of the false God. Piglet loyally walked by him and hissed cattishly to a few scampering kids who were about to throw pebbles at the two of them.
It was degrading to have a thrall fighting his battles, but Ivar endured the shame in silence since he needed both hands to drag his lower half across. Due to the wounds on his knees, he had to slide on his side and it took the pair forever to get back to the pigsty.
"Ya Hamar..." Piglet's voice was filled with compassion as she noticed how his trousers were giving up completely and lay torn and ragged over his scraped thigh.
Ivar eyes scolded at her and briefly flickered passed her as he noticed the form of the Giant approaching. Alarmed, Piglet turned around, saw her abuser and rapidly scattered off to her duties. Ivar wasn't so lucky, he had no time to escape. At a snail's pace, he tried to reach the pigsty, but the Giant caught up with him. Ivar's arms were being kicked from under him and his chin hit the cobblestone floor.
His blood hummed in his veins as he overheard the Giant's amused laughter. Cocking his head up, Ivar was just fast enough to raise his elbows in front of his face as the Giant's leather boot aimed for his cheekbone. Determination and anger took over as the Giant drew his boot back and stomped it into Ivar's stomach. His guts smashed together, bruises formed. But he was not going to make a sound. No, he was going to suffer in silence and take the beating like a man. The battering did not continue for long as Ivar played dead, the Giant quickly lost interest.
Hands the size of shovels dragged him on his feet with ease. Ivar was shoved over the wooden fence of the pigsty and submerged into the gritty muck.
Feeling water and pig's urine seep through his haphazard clothing, he allowed his chest to gently rise and sink with every shallow breath he drew in. Laughing cackled over the muddy field and if Ivar had any say, he'd allow the earth to open up and swallow him whole.
That man standing behind him was a monster and besides despising the Giant, Ivar envied him. Once, he'd been standing on that other side of the fence, being the one torturing his thralls and peasants. As Ivar's face lifted from the mud, it was like looking into a mirror.
Glee, satisfaction, it all radiated from the Giant's smoldering eyes. An Alpha, a dominator of the weaklings, the unworthy.
Ivar was staring up at a monster, so close to his own image. Yet, so far away from what he'd become. Because he was the underdog now, the pariah and the victim.
His fists punched the murky floor as he was left to fulfill his duty; taking care of the pigs. Within his right fist the nail dug deep into his flesh and he made himself a sincere promise; this was the first of many he'd be using to nail that bastard to his holy cross.
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A/N: Yes, so I'd like to point out another 'fact', in Holland we have a saying 'rijke stinkerds' which roughly translates into 'filthy rich'. Which is the fact of this chapter, the rich used to be buried inside the church, but lacking proper air conditioning...the place at times could stink due to all the rotten bodies (badly) buried underneath the marble.
Hope you've enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Xoxox Nukyster