Act XIV: The Dance of the Seven Veils (Part 8)
eight
The slave girl walked alone out of the Lion Gate, leaving the holy city. She covered her curly hair with a headscarf, clutched her amulet, and turned back three times in the wind and sand. The first time, she called her daughter's name, wishing her peace and happiness; the second time, she called Eudosias's name, wishing her strength and joy; the third time, her gaze went beyond the walls of Jerusalem, further west—to Eubius, she called her master's name, praying for his kindness and mercy.
Yesau was already waiting for her, hunched over, outside the city gate—Naya was relieved to find that she would never mistake him for Yakov again. She clenched her fists under her cloak and moved closer.
“I have doubts and can’t make a decision,” she said. “I have something to ask you.”
Yesau's gaze swept from her eyes to her heaving chest, focusing on the burning, throbbing marks within. "I understand your concerns, and I appreciate your honesty." The old knight removed his helmet and smiled faintly. "If you have any questions, I will answer them."
The two led their horses along the path toward the Mount of Olives. Where people lived, wells were dug and trees planted. The further east they went, the closer they got to the saltiest lake, and the more barren and desolate the oasis became. They passed penitents and pilgrims, looking not at any caves or holy sites, seeking only a quiet place. Finally, the world before them became a barren, yellowish expanse, filled with endless, towering rocky mountains. Naya looked down and found her sandals stepping on ancient, weathered brickwork—this desolate path had been trodden by countless predecessors, she thought.
“I want to ask you something first,” Naya asked. “Your assassination attempt failed, and you ended up like this… Don’t you regret it?”
“I don’t regret it. If I only regret failing, it’s not true regret,” Yesau answered frankly. “Is it because you’re afraid of failing in the struggle that you’ve been hesitant to make a decision?”
“No.” Naya frowned. “I want to know… when you killed that child, did you think she died unjustly? Did you feel guilty?”
Yesau turned to look at her, his eyes crinkling with helplessness. “There will always be pointless sacrifices in a struggle. I feel she died unjustly, I pity her suffering, and I never felt innocent. Even so, it was all necessary. If not me, it would have been someone else.” He lowered his voice slowly, “Are you hesitating because you fear bearing this guilt?”
“…No, not exactly. I helped you back then, so I share the blame.” Naya suddenly felt cold and had to cover her arms with her cloak. “I understand what you’re saying, I understand what your Lord is saying… I think your ideals and beliefs are great and righteous, I don’t doubt that… I only doubt whether this one ideal and belief is truly great and righteous? Is an ideal that cannot tolerate other ideas truly the only great and righteous one?”
Yesau didn't answer her, only stared at her—Naya pressed her hand to the mark on her chest. That gaze caused her pain, and her breathing quickened.
“I don’t want to beat around the bush, let’s be frank.” The female slave clutched her clothes tightly, as if her life depended on it. “If you want to kill all the vampires… God help me, I am truly loyal to what I have seen and thought, not a single word I have said is false, may this torment be relieved. If they are some ruthless and cruel people, you and I know who I am referring to—I deeply abhor such cold-hearted gods, even if you cut her into a thousand pieces and tear her to pieces, I will rejoice from the bottom of my heart; but what if it is a master with a heart and feelings? Don’t tell me you don’t understand or don’t agree, I only ask you… if your master can be kind and benevolent, doesn’t that prove that my master can be too?”
Having said all this, Naya felt a sense of relief, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted from her shoulders; the pain etched within her was released with this outpouring of genuine emotion. She silently murmured the name of Jubius, praying to the gods—yet Yesau's gaze sent chills down her spine. A flicker of fear even crept into her heart.
“I understand your demands.” Yesau finally looked away. “Now I am the one who is confused.”
What are you wondering about?
“I am puzzled. You should understand the feeling of suffering, but now it seems you have forgotten it all.” Yesau turned around and looked at the western walls of Jerusalem. “You entrusted your daughter to strangers, and you tried every means to escape from your master’s watchful eye; now you stand beside me, discussing power and oppression, bitterness and suffering. All of this proves that you have opened your eyes to the truth and have a heart that yearns for freedom. Yet you are also weakly compassionate, feeling that the master who has harmed you does not deserve to die.”
"If it weren't for Lord Jubius, my daughter and I would probably be gone by now..."
"In exchange, you will be his slave for all eternity, following his every command. This is a sinful coercion."
“If it wasn’t him, it would have been someone else!” Naya retorted. “Aren’t there plenty of people in the world who enslave others? Even compared to ordinary people, Lord Jubius is by no means more evil and cruel!”
"Does being less wicked and cruel than ordinary people qualify one to be a god?" Yesau suddenly became enraged, as if removing a mask of calm to reveal a long-hidden madness. "You don't know the hardships and torments a true god must endure, the strength of their mind required. You and I are mortals, unable to comprehend these things... Rather, it was precisely so that all mortals wouldn't have to understand that my Lord embarked on the most difficult path, sacrificing himself. And now you want to convince me, to make me tolerate two gods existing in the world?"
This was the first time Naya had ever seen Yesau so angry—the knight was old, but still much taller and more terrifying than a woman. The female slave was speechless with fright at his harsh and incomprehensible words, clutching her cloak tightly with both hands.
"...I really don't understand what crime Lord Jubius committed that warrants the death penalty." She murmured her defense, suppressing her inner weakness, "If you think there can only be one god in the world, then he shouldn't be a god, and he didn't want to be one either. My lord and your lord probably don't have to fight to the death."
“He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, and he has no choice!” She saw the gloom filling Yesau’s old eyes. “It is indeed a regrettable but unavoidable thing… There can only be one Lord in the world, so that everyone can believe in Him.”
Naya dared not argue further. She could only gaze anxiously at the barren land, standing in the sand-swirling wind, unsure of where to go. But Yesau beside her did not linger, sighing as he took the reins.
"Aren't you going to take me to the gathering anymore?" Naya asked in surprise as he mounted his horse alone.
“I am no longer qualified to attend rallies.”
"What?"
“You shouldn’t go either, and you must never go again.” Yesau paced back and forth on his horse. “You cannot pass the test; the Lord will not accept you.”
As the sound of horses' hooves faded into the distance, Naya stood there, stunned, letting the wind blow her headscarf away. It was as if one weight had been removed from the scales of her heart, and suddenly she knew where to go and what to do—as if being rejected had become a good thing, allowing her to see her true self. She suddenly felt that her previously obscure path had become clear, as if candles had been lit.
"Am I the first blood slave to refuse the Lord and refuse freedom?" she shouted at the knight's shadow.
"No, that's not it." Yesau's voice could be faintly heard amidst the increasingly fierce sandstorm.
"Then who else?"
"You know him?" Yesau reined in his horse at a distance, standing still specifically to answer her question. "His name is Yakov."
The female slave turned west and traveled with the caravan through the barren desert for two days and one night until they reached the city of Lud. The guards who guarded the city had changed batch after batch and none of them recognized her. It wasn't until dusk and curfew approached that Daoud recognized her during his shift change and she was welcomed into the city gate.
"Why did you suddenly come back alone?" Nuk asked, stopping her in front of the Saracen-style mansion. "Where is Lord Eudosias?"
“Lord Eudosias can take care of himself in Jerusalem.” Naya shook the sand out of her curly hair, trying to make herself look more presentable. “I have something to see my master.”
“Alright, I’ll take you there now.” Nuk called for someone to wash her hands and feet with water. “However, ever since the assassination attempt and Lord Yakov’s escape, my master has been in a terrible mood, often saying horrible things…”
"What did Master say?"
“…saying strange things like, ‘If I die, how will we all survive if we lose our mark?’” Nuk lit a beautiful ever-burning lamp and carefully handed it to her. “It’s really strange. Lord Jubius is an immortal god, impervious to swords and cannons, so why does he always talk about these things? You used to be closer to your master than I was, so you should try to comfort him.”
Naya felt a pang of reluctance, and her anxiety grew even stronger. She followed closely behind Nuk to the exquisite octagonal pavilion in the courtyard.
The desert night sky always boasts the most brilliant and luminous Milky Way and the purest and brightest moon, framed like a painting on the ceiling by the ornately carved eaves. Her beloved yet hateful master stands in the pavilion, being helped to try on a newly crafted suit of exquisite armor—Naya is seeing him in armor and wielding a sword for the first time. Each pillar is like a birdcage fence, each lock like a heavy shackle. It's as if an invincible god has been trapped on the battlefield, with nowhere to hide.
The god turned his face, removed his helmet, and looked at his first blood slave. Compared to the innocent youth he had first met, he looked not much older, still slender and tall, handsome and refined. Naya noticed that his hair had been cut short—it was the first time the slave girl had ever seen her master with short hair. She thought, how many more years would it take for the immortal Lord Jubius to grow his hair back to waist-length?
"Naya," Lord Jubius asked, both coldly and considerately, "what brings you here?"
Upon hearing that voice, Naya felt the mark on her chest burn painfully, and the bite mark on her neck, which had long since faded, began to itch. She knelt before her master, solemnly and faithfully taking his cold iron glove.
“Let me help you, my Lord.” She pressed the vampire’s hand to her cheek, letting her tears drip onto it. “May you keep your original intentions and conscience, and be able to be self-reliant and make your own decisions.”
“You have mercy on me, and I have mercy on you. Let me tell you everything I know.”
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