THE SUBSTITUTE VIRGIN

Arglemos, the youngest ever High Priest of the Dread hippopotamus god Minaster, held his wickedly curved, razor sharp knife high above the young woman in the long white diaphanous robe chained to the altar and said in a voice of thunder ‘WHY DO I HAVE TO MAKE ALL THE SACRIFICES?’ And old joke, but a good one.

He looked around. Nobody laughed. No response, nothing. Well, he hadn’t expected the heavily armed guards who lined the walls of the temple to get the joke. Solid oak from ear to ear. And Bospho his deputy priest was even stupider, if that was possible – the young third son of the High Dominator, he’d been unloaded onto the priesthood to keep him from doing too much harm. It was surprising he wasn’t drooling at the mouth, judging by the marks of inbreeding Arglemos could see on his face. He wondered why he bothered. The original excitement he'd had when his parents had donated him, the youngest of their fourteen children, to the Temple, had faded, and he felt like a man swimming in a cess-pit - just going through the motions.

Surprisingly, he could see a suppressed smirk flickering on the lips of the girl on the slab. He took a second look. She wasn’t the standard voluptuous sacrificial virgin he was used to. Most of them were like a fourteen year-old boy's wet dream, the shape of a blow-up doll, with personality and brains to match. This one was different. ‘Who are you?’ he asked, mystified. You’re not Amarinta.’

‘No, I’m her sister. She was supposed to be here, but she met this guardsman – you know the type, mighty thews, biceps of steel, abs you could bounce bricks off. Well, she doesn’t qualify for sacrifice any more.’

‘You mean . . .’

‘I mean she’s no longer a virgin. So you have to put up with me. Sorry.’

‘And you are . . .’

‘Oh, yes. I qualify all right. I find guardsmen boring. I’d rather settle down with a good book with a cat on my knee. Do you like cats?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose I do.’ This conversation wasn’t going the way he’d expected at all, at all. He became aware of another thing that didn’t fit. He turned to Bospho – ‘What are all these animals doing in here?’

‘Oh they said the sacrificial virgin had to be anointed with precious oils and rubbed with rare ungulants. And you have to admit, tapirs and mouse deer and wart hogs are pretty rare. Possibly even endangered.’

‘You idiot! Unguents, not ungulants! Unguents are ointments!’

Bospho looked contrite, but a little resentful. ‘Nobody’s perfect,’ he said.

‘Get these things out of here!’

‘And a wart hog isn’t an ungulant, anyway,’ commented the girl. ‘It doesn’t have hooves.’

Arglemaos raised his eyes to the heavens – ‘Gods save me. Do I have to put up with corrections from the sacrifice, now?’

‘Well, they’re not. Wart hogs are members of the family Suidae. They’re related to the pig. Cloven feet – no hooves.’

‘No, you’re wrong. Pigs do have hooves, cloven ones. Not like horses and such like that have a single toenail turned into a hoof . . .’ He stopped. ‘Why am I having this conversation? I give up. The omens are obviously wrong today. I’m calling off the sacrifice.’

‘You can’t do that,’ said Bospho. ‘My father was expecting a sacrifice today. It’s his birthday.’

‘Well, the gods have obviously decided otherwise. I’m not going ahead.’

‘Well, what about me?’ asked the girl. I’ve been anointed with precious oils and rubbed with rare ungulants. I’ll never get this dress clean now. And you know how white stains.’

‘I don’t care. Guards, release her!’

‘Well, I think it’s very poor. This was to be my big day and you’ve spoiled it. I may never get a chance again.’

‘What? You wanted to be sacrificed?’

‘Better than most of the alternatives, isn’t it? Marrying a thick-headed farmer or a fat merchant and popping out babies, or being a concubine – anyway, I’m not really concubine material, am I? No perky breasts here. I look ridiculous in a skimpy satin bikini. And it gets cold.’

‘You could do something else.’

‘What, may I ask? What job opportunities are there for a single woman in this society? I don’t want to be a harlot or a washerwoman or a seamstress. No openings for authoresses here, are there?’

‘You could be a sorceress. Or a priestess.’

‘Same problem. There’s a dress code and I don’t fit the body image – no enormous boobs, for a start. When they were handing out boobs I was at the end of the queue. No, this was my big chance. And if Amarinta hadn’t let her hormones get the better of her I wouldn’t even have had this chance. My father’s been trying to marry me off for years and I’ve been resisting for years.’

‘Well, what am I going to do with you now? The sacrifice is off.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know. I can’t go home now – there are certain expectations, you know. I won’t be welcome after I was supposed to have been sacrificed.’

‘Bospho! Haven’t you got rid of those animals yet?’

‘Oh, boss. This one likes me. Can I take it home?’

‘Yes, why not? Just a moment – where did you get all these?’

‘From the zoo.’

‘Well, don’t you think they’ll be missing them? Take them back straight away.’ Bospho looked confused. ‘NOW!’

‘That still doesn’t solve my problem. Where can I go now I’m not to be sacrificed?’

‘How should I know? Why should I care?’

‘Well, it’s your fault I’m still here. You’re the one who cancelled the sacrifice. Don’t you think you owe me a certain responsibility?’

‘In a word, no.’

‘Well, I do. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll come with you, until I can figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.’

‘You can’t come with me! Women aren’t allowed in the priests’ quarters. Priests are celibate!’

‘Voluntarily or involuntarily?’

‘Voluntarily, of course! We choose celibacy when we decide to become priests.’

‘So, you're not so much an incel as a volcel,' she smiled. 'Then there’s no problem. You can stay celibate – I won’t bother you. It’ll be as if I’m not even there.’

‘NO!’

He had no idea how he had ended up sleeping on cushions on the floor, with the girl comfortably ensconced in his bed. She was very persuasive, and impossible to discourage.

‘Well, only for tonight, understood? Tomorrow you have to leave, and I can wash my hands of you.’

She nodded, but somehow he didn’t feel convinced. But as she was already there, and as he’d had very little to do with women since he joined the priesthood as a novice at the age of ten, his curiosity got the better of him. They talked. She was interesting to talk to, especially after the dry conversation he’d had for most of his life at the temple among the priesthood. He realised he’d led a very sheltered life, far away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

They ate, and as it was a special occasion he brought out his special flask of wine. He wasn’t accustomed to drinking – he’d led an abstemious life. The flask had been a prize for faultless memorizing of the scriptures when he was young. He hoped it hadn’t gone off or anything. It was surprisingly good, and as the food was highly spiced, it wasn’t long before the flask was empty. They laughed a lot. When it became late, she made to get ready for sleep. Before she did, she kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’re not so bad, you know. How long have you been a priest?’

‘Since I was ten. Well, that was when I joined the temple as a novice. I’ve been a priest for about fifteen years now.’

‘Haven’t you ever found yourself missing the things you gave up? Women, for instance?

Later on, he told himself he had been very drunk. But he awoke feeling better than he had for a very long time. No – better than he ever had. The girl snuggled up to him. Looking at her, he found the sight of her rather good.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘Where do we go from here? I think I’m washed up as a priest – broken my vow of celibacy and all that. And I don’t even know your name.’

‘It’s Merriventa. I suppose I can’t be sacrificed now, can I?’

‘Certainly not. Have you ever thought of becoming a seer?’

‘Seeress, I think. You could be a seer.’

‘Yes. We could buy a tent and be a double-team. Good hours, and if we travel around enough, nobody will ever be able to come back and tell us our predictions were wrong.’

'Oh, they won't be wrong. I have the Gift.'

'Why didn't you say so?'

'You didn't ask me. And you don't have to take that tone with me . . .'

They walked out of the temple, hand in hand, still arguing, and into the sunrise of a new day.