An Audience with the Beast

The peak of twilight was the hour of mischief for little Enna and Joseph, and though this was not their first night of misdeeds, none before had been so perilous. Crouching, they weaved with the clumsy feet of children through the wheat field. The boy was a head taller than Enna, though her heart was bold, and she led him through as swiftly as she could. Silently as they tried, the dogs’ barks grew more fearsome, and the gold of the setting sun highlighted every frightened wrinkle of the boy’s gaunt face.

Enna looked back with a smile, “I never knew you to frighten so easily.”

“I’ve never had the dogs after me,” He cracked back. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

“Well, we’re here now,” She laughed.

The fiend’s howls were joined by the chattering of men outside the field. Though the words could not be made out, the children knew they were the hunt. Their pace quickened. Joseph’s words were not his own, but the wisdom of the city folk. These fields belonged to the beast, and all the folk of the town knew better than to wander into the beast’s field.

The words of the old man down the alley rang in their heads; “Break not bread with the beast, nor mix in his affairs. Seek no counsel from the beast, nor steal his fruits. Owe him nothing, and put him out of your minds. His fruits are sweet, but the aftertaste is too bitter to bear.”

But the tidings of old men are no use to the fearless, and what fear dwells in the hearts of the young? So on they toiled, deeper into the thicket. At last they knew the beasts were unleashed, for closer grew their howls.

The fieldsmen drew nearer too, and they had howls of their own, “We know you’re there. Come out, and this will be easy for you.”

Enna was old enough to catch a lie. Clumsy as they had been, their feet were nimble, and they were young enough to fit cleanly between the overgrown farmland. She would hide within the plants, and let the tall men go sifting. Joseph hid in the wheat beside hers.

“What now, smart one?” Joseph whispered to her.

“Let them come,” She declared. “And when they pass us, we run.

They hid as well as they could with their racing hearts, until at last the barking had been beside them. A tall bearded man with a straw hat held the leash to both dogs, black and brown haired, and spitting as they clamored. Another followed, younger, with a face not many years older than Enna’s, and golden hair combed cleanly to the side. Around their chests were slung leather bands which held intricate pieces of steel. Enna and Joseph knew little of these weapons, save that they were the tools of soldiers, which crashed loudly, and took life. The smaller of the dogs began to sniff where Enna hid, though to little concern of their master, who tugged the beasts and kept pacing.

“I think they’ve gone further,” Said the younger one. “Loose the beasts.”

“And let the dogs off with their prize? I think not. The beasts hunt animals, not men.” Said the older.

Their voices were gentle now that they had quit their shouting. This gentleness gave quiet to the air. The silence gave way to Enna’s heart, which thrashed around her chest, and left a tingle in her limbs. Soon enough the men took off further, and when the children heard no more of the footsteps, they bolted further off into the fields. Further they waded, until they came upon a wooden fence, they could climb over, which separated the wheat field from another sort of plantation. Climb they did, and they ran forward into the vines, held up by wooden pillars. Upon the tops of these pillars hung tiny juicy purple beads of fruit

Whatever fear Joseph had left him, and he began to laugh, “Oh Enna, as if that worked.”

He looked up at the grapes with a foaming mouth, “Now, I think we’ve earned these.”

“Don’t eat those,” Enna warned him as he tore the little grapes from the vine. “That's the fruit of the beast. The old man warned us about that.”

“He also told us not to come here,” Joseph answered.

He bit into the fruit with the delight of taste that no city orphan would ever know.

He said, “And how sweet they are, Enna. Take one.”

Before she could muster an answer, arms reached around the pillar and grabbed the feasting Joseph. It was the younger hunter, and with his arms he gripped the boy firmly.

“Run, En!” Joseph screamed through stained, pulp-filled teeth.

There was no escape. As she turned, the bearded man hovered over her, and plucked her from the ground.

“What’s this, then?” Cried the younger, struggling with Joseph, “Spies? Another family? Maybe the government?”

Joseph answered with a bite into the younger’s hand, but a quick strike of his gun ensured the boy wouldn’t try it again. Tears welled in the eyes of young Joseph, who answered to none so chiefly as he answered to pain. Enna too stayed her fight, for the old man had a firm grip, and even in fighting wouldn’t loose it. Fear did not grip her, but elation. She felt her heart race as it had in hiding. They traced back to the barn where the dogs had first began their shouting, until they came upon a hillside overlooking it. Upon it was perched a lonesome quaint house of pink and grey stone. Even the falling sun – which had set beyond those of the fields to see – could be seen from this hill.

The bearded man knocked twice, and entered. A lovely living room it seemed to be, even in the dark. It was furnished well, and far beyond what the children would suppose to the tastes of these ghastly men. Its cabinets were filled with silverware and plates, and its walls were decorated with the paintings of many colored flowers in bloom. To the middle of the room was the table that sat a barrel chested bald brute, with marks of ink all across his body like the brigands of elder days. He wore only simple straw pants, and smoked a cigarette. He looked upon them without amusement.

“Well?” He asked.

“Two children, sir - nothing more.” Said the bearded man. His head was bowed.

“The dogs?”

“We tied them to a post on the field, sir. They’re fine.”

The young thug spoke, eager to impress, “I think they’re spies, sir. Maybe employed by the police, or government, or maybe from –“

“Spies? In your sixteen years of life, boy, have you ever known the government, or any of the outer families to employ children so young?” The brute bore his beastly teeth. His voice spilled like gravel from a mountain, hard but raspy. He continued; “I’d say you’ve nabbed up some poor townsfolk’s children. Nothing here but mischief. And look at the boy; his head bleeds. Wheat doesn’t do that, and the dogs would have torn his scalp clean off. This mark was you, eh?”

“I- I-“ The young man struggled to answer.

“Sit them at the table. Bandage the boy, and grab us some bread and milk,” The brute ordered firmly.

With haste the two sat the children ahead of him, and grabbed from the counters milk and bread. The younger pulled some cloth from his sash and wrapped Joseph’s head. No word was spoken until the task was done. Both the thugs kept their eyes firmly fixed to the table, along with Joseph. It was Enna, who gazed into the eyes of the beastly host at the end of the table. He took a great puff of smoke, and put out his cigarette on a cleaned plate, before he broke the loaf of bread and handed them each a half. He beckoned the younger thug to his side. He put embraced his head, cupping his cleanly-combed hair beneath his thick, furry knuckles.

“You know I love you, boy, eh?” The man gently kissed the boy’s forehead.

Love became rage, and the brute struck the boy so harshly, every strand of his golden hair shook, ‘til all that remained of his scalp was a wiry mess. “But striking a stray child with your gun – that’s no way to do business is it?”

He slapped the boy again, almost leveling him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” He whimpered.

“Good, good.”

Joseph felt fear as this violent man fixed his gaze on the children now, with a great smile.

“And you are?” He asked the children.

“I’m Enna, and this is Joseph.” Enna answered with a mouthful of bread.

“Parents?”

They shook their heads.

“Ah,” He brightened up, “And what brings stray children to my fields?”

Enna gasped. Across her sat the fabled devil the city folk so deeply feared. A fire lit in her eye, as she leaned into the table.

“Are you the beast?”

Now the men in the room gasped, that such a pup would address their master so irreverently. The smile faded from his eyes, and with a deep breath he built up to a stand, seeming to grow twofold. His arms reached out toward the ceiling and he let go a deep roar whose echo would crumble all the quiet of the hillside. Her smile remained. So he too burst out in laughter.

“I am the beast you speak of! Tell me, what do the townsfolk say of me?”

“They say you snatch children in the night for your bidding. They say never to make your audience, and to never steal your fruits.” She answered swiftly.

“Well, have you stolen my fruits, children?” He asked.

Both children shook their head.

“Well, good then. The tales aren’t far from the truth. But answer me this, Joseph; Did the city folk tell you never to lie?”

Joseph looked fearfully at the beast, whose cunning smile struck him like lightning.

“Take him to the fields boys. He starts work tomorrow. The girl is not to be touched.” He ordered.

The two thugs grabbed Joseph and disappeared into the fields. The sun had set.

“What happens to him?” Enna remained in his audience.

“He is an orphan no longer,” The beast answered. “At least until he earns his grapes.”

“And me?” She asked.

“Go as you like. Or remain here. I was an orphan once. The streets are no place for a little girl.” He smiled.

She stopped in contemplation. He walked outside, and beckoned her so. The moon was in bloom, high in the sky. They sat upon the hillside, watching its stars.

“Why is that your name, anyway, Mister Beast?”

He let out a hearty laugh, “Besides my roar? Look, child.” He turned his back to her and pointed at a great tattoo that stretched from his back shoulder to shoulder. It was the insignia of a bull, with hateful eyes and two mighty horns.

“A tattoo,” He said wistfully. “That’s all it is. Sometimes, people find the funniest things.”

“You aren’t such a beast, are you?”

“Not always, child.” He said, smiling.