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They Had No Ox

Roy Haymond

    It was certainly no surprise to Aranya when she saw the man in the ornate oxcart as he came over the horizon. He looked soft and pudgy even from this distance, and he wore clothes that must have come from the city, complete with the funny, formal-looking hat.
    And it may have been the same man who had come the other two times she knew about. Her parents, of course, had said nothing to her about this, and she looked at them with the contempt that had grown from this whole advent of their lives.
    The material signs were very clear: they had had two oxen for a season; then they’d had one; this year they had tilled the fields without an ox. The crops were lean, with little grain materializing from the plants in the worn-out soil.
    When the crops did not pay, an ox was needed to pay the rent. But her family had no ox, and the rent was due.
    She had slowly come to realize that this had happened before. There was Ling, her older sister, one of only two people who’d ever really mattered to Aranya. It was Ling who had always, even in her earliest memories, been a source of comfort and security. When Aranya stumbled in the fields, it was Ling who picked her up; it was Ling who somehow managed to come up with sweetmeats, even in the long, dull times of deprivation. Distant from the parents who ignored her prattle, the staid couple she was never allowed to question, Aranya found Ling a beautiful beacon of warmth and belonging.
    Then, in Aranya’s eighth year, Ling was gone, just disappeared. Aranya had seen the oxcart, but had not realized that Ling was in it.
    This was hard to understand. There was no funeral, no mourning, and no weeping from the parents. They never even mentioned it.
    Aranya, risking a thrashing, asked her mother about Ling.
    “Ask not, Child. This does not concern thee. She is gone!”
    This lack of explanation caused Aranya much grief, even unto nightmares.
    Comfort in this age came with a friend in a nearby hovel. Morac was the same age as Aranya and the two often found themselves working together in the fields. When things were very busy, they still found time for child play, and when work was slight, the two invented their own little games.
    Then Morac left when Aranya was barely ten. Aranya watched as the oxcart carried her friend away. She managed to play a little with some of the other girls - it was not allowed that boys and girls should play together - but it was not the same as with the special friend who was Morac. For over a year, Aranya’s misery and loneliness were severe.
    And then Ling came for a visit!
    She was elaborately adorned, perfumed, urbane. She brought lavish gifts for her parents.
    This caused quite a stir. All manner of people, men and women, even children, came around just for a glimpse at her.
    But Aranya saw another side of the picture by watching the grimaces of her parents and by hearing their remarks, like: “She should never have come home! Can’t she imagine how this hurts the family?”
    Moreover, she noticed that Ling did not accompany them to the temple, no doubt because her parents did not want her to.
    Ling’s stay was very short, and Aranya knew it had been painful for her. For the second time in her life, she confronted her parents. They were seated at the kitchen table, no doubt discussing Ling, when Aranya entered uninvited.
    “I am hurt. Were you not glad to see Ling?”
    A long silence followed.
    Aranya spoke again, “Ling is my sister; I love her! Were you not glad to see her?”
    “Be quiet, Child; you offend!” her mother retorted.
    “But I must know! I had thought her dead, and she came back to us. Why did you treat her as one who is not of us?”
    The mother stood up. “Shut up, you little fool! You know not of what you speak!”
    Aranya was indignant and determined not leave this argument unfinished. She sat in a chair and stared alternately at the two of them.
    The father finally spoke. “Child, you know not of this world, of how we must live. And it is better that you do not know of some of these things before you are required to. Life here is very hard. Sometimes we must do what we would not. Ling is not with us; it cannot be helped. We are very poor; we did what we had to do.”
    “Father, I do not understand. You sent Ling away? This is because we are poor?”
    “Daughter, you know we have rent to pay; every year this hangs over us. We plant; we tend; then if the harvest is good, we pay the rent. If the harvest is very good, we buy an ox. If the harvest is bad, I sell the ox to pay the rent. We do what we must...”
    “...We had some good years. We paid the rent. We bought an ox, then another. Then crops failed. We sold an ox. Then we sold another. Still the crops failed. The landlord demanded payment. We had no ox. What were we to do? If we are put off this land where we were born, where are we to go? To beg in the cities? To starve in the woods? Oh, I hated what we had to do, but there was really no choice!”
    “That’s what happened to Ling? You sold her?”
    “Sold? It was her duty to go; by turning her over to the landlord’s agent, the rent was excused. When they took her away, we cried!”
    “But, Father, took her away to what? To where?”
    “We could not think of that; it was too painful. We just hoped for the best for her. Now, stop concerning yourself with her. You saw her; why worry about her? She is in another world now!”
    “But when she came, did you welcome her? No! It was as if you were ashamed of her!”
    “Of course, Daughter. The kind of life she leads now! No, she has no place with simple farm folk like us...”
    “What kind of life does she lead?”
    “She has men...but we can’t talk about that to you, child...”
    Aranya stared at her father, then left the room without saying anything more, her very heart filled with hatred for this couple who were her parents.
    Her mind was muddled. Having been kept from playing with boys and formally knowing so little about the male sex, the ‘she has men’ was something she had to ponder.
    Of course, Aranya knew that men, even boys, liked to play with girls. When she walked by men in the village, she was often lightly fondled. And the boys who worked in the fields, some almost grown men, were forever trying to corner her, or any other girl, for this kind of thing. All this had meant nothing really ominous to Aranya - men grabbed and played; that was just a way of life.
    But Ling and Morak were gone, and a strong suspicion grabbed Aranya: what men and boys did to girls - could this be the center of what had happened to her sister and her friend, the two who had meant most to her in her lifetime?
    Even friendless and alone, she felt driven to learn all she could about what men were about when they grabbed girls. This, she felt sure, was the mystery that had sent her two favorite people away.
    It was some months after the confrontation with her parents when she was able to get her brother, Fattan, alone. The boy, some two years her senior, was a sullen, aloof, unkempt lad who held his little sister in very low esteem. She accosted him in a thatch well away from their home, where he was hiding lest his father should give him some work to do.
    “Fattan, there are some things I would ask thee!”
    “Little cow, do not raise thy voice; if we are heard, surely some task for us will be found!”
    “I will not take much of your time, but I must know: what do men do with women?”
    “What a question! A man takes a woman so she will work in the fields and cook rice...”
    “Oh, that I know. But there is something else - like why do men grab at girls all the time? What are they after?”
    “A brazen one you are! You do not know? Really? You do not know? Ha!”
    “Would I ask if I knew? Get off thy throne and tell me!”
    “Ah, this is a lark! You do not know? Well, men take women to bed!”
    “Take women to bed? To do what?”
    “You are not just jesting? So that I tell you this so you can scream and tell that I have insulted, that I have been crass- and with mine own sister?”
    “Nay. This thing I do not know, and I feel I must!”
    Fattan looked all around to reassure himself that no one could be in observance.
    “Well, men enter women!”
    “Enter?”
    “Yes. Go inside.”
    “I do not understand!”
    “Do you want me to show you? And no screaming?”
    “Yes, please show me - I will not in any wise scream....”
    Fattan took her hand and led her further into the thicket and up a small hill. At a choice spot, he stopped and once again questioned her. “You agreed: no screaming? Anyway, from here, no one will hear thee.”
    He lifted his shift to his waist and exposed himself to her.
    “Here, silly one! This is what enters....”
    She stared in amazement, looking carefully at the instrument he exposed.
    “That? It enters? Enters where?”
    Without another word, he lifted her shift. “This is where entry is made, where babies come from...”
    She was more confused than ever when she left her brother in the thatch. Did this mean that Ling and Morac were sent away so they could make babies? If so, why didn’t Ling bring hers when she came for the visit?
    Because of her situation, it was more than difficult to get any more information on the matters that had her so troubled. However, an opportunity came with a maturational change in her growth: Aranya was twelve and developing. This meant she would now work in the fields with the older girls.
    Days went by as she made observations to determine which of the girls in the fields with her would be most likely to give her the most of the information she sought. She never really had to make this choice, though, because when she was taking a little respite from the labors, she was approached by one of the girls, a big, very ugly girl named Sarad. And from the very first, it seemed that this big girl knew much of the world, and also knew something of Aranya and her family.
    “You won’t be with us all that much longer, will you, little one?”
    “I know not what you mean. Why not?”
    “How old are you? Twelve? I thought as much. Ah, they will be after you before long. If not this year, then the next!”
    “Still I do not understand. Who will be after me? And why?”
    “You are too pretty to stay here. What? To become a woman of one of the farmers? Nay! You will become something else entirely.”
    Sarad looked her over carefully. “Good skin. Even teeth. Not bad bones. Hard to say which way you’ll go, but you won’t stay here. I can see that. And how I wish they’d come for me!”
    “Forgive me, Sarad, but I simply do not understand all of this. Could it be that I must go away to make babies?”
    “You are very ignorant, are you not? But, then, I suppose no one has ever talked to you about any of this, so how could you know? Well, you could possibly have babies, but that is not what they really want of you...”
    “You are right, Sarad; I am very ignorant. If they do not want me for babies, then what? Please tell me. I beg you.”
    The big girl mused for a moment, perhaps thinking she could get something in exchange for the information everybody else knew, then realizing that this child really had nothing to give in exchange.
    “They will come for you...take you somewhere, I’m not sure where...But they will look you over. A man came to my family once and saw me and said he would not take me...But they will take you. Now, the very plain ones become house servants - they may have babies, because the master of the house makes use of such a girl...But as I look at thee, I think it will not be thus: you will be given to a man as his mistress...”
    “Mistress?”
    “A man who has a wife may keep another woman in a separate house - sometimes the wife even knows of this, I am told. He would have to be a rich man to have two houses...”
    “Like taking a second wife?”
    “That could be, but if he should tire of you, he would sell you to a brothel.”
    “Tell me what a brothel is.”
    “It is a place where women stay. Men come to use them, you know, in bed.”
    “You mean to enter them?”
    “Yes. The man goes to a brothel and pays money to spend a time with a woman. Little of the money goes to the woman, since she has been bought by the brothel. Your sister was here, wasn’t she? She had the bright clothes, was all painted...She must be in a brothel. Did she talk to you about it?”
    “I did not get to talk to her...my parents did not allow it...”
    “I saw her; she was so beautiful! And she looks so well treated. Would that I could get into such a place...I’ll be taken by some old farmer when he becomes a widower...”
    
    The conversation ended and Aranya had much to ponder. The beautiful Ling had indeed been painted and was in bright clothes. Where was she? Could Sarad be correct, that Ling was in a place where men came to enter her? Did she make money doing this? Such could explain the gifts she had brought, but Aranya had a fierce disgust from the images of her sister’s being entered by men.
    It was many days before she was again alone with Sarac. By then some very definite lines of inquiry had formed in Aranya’s young mind.
    “Sarac, I mean not to offend: I am most grateful for all you told me that time. However, might I ask how you came to know these things?”
    “There was a woman. She slept in the woods, came out to beg for food. And men visited her.”
    “Did you know her? Was she an old woman?
    “She did not look as our women who grow old working in the field...But certainly not a young woman...”
    “And she told you these things?”
    “Yes. She told several of us all these things and more. She had been taken away by an agent many years ago...was a man’s mistress for a few years, until he sold her so he could get another young girl. Then she spent many more years in a brothel. Then they had no use for her - the men who come there only wanted younger women. Then, she said she tried to find work to feed herself, but nobody wanted her, not even as a servant, since it was clear she’d been in a brothel...So she came back here where her family was....”
    “And her family? Did they take her in?”
    “Nay. Her family lives some leagues away...they stoned her! She wandered in the woods...Some men brought her food if she would lie with them...and some of us brought her food if she would talk to us...What I told you is from what I heard from her!”
    “Could I speak to her?”
    “Ah, no, little one; she died some time ago...Some say she was killed by the wife of one of the men!”
    “I thank you for telling me all this, Sarac...I now know what must happen to me. I only wish I could find my sister. Nothing you have heard could help me find her, could it?”
    “I think not. The agent comes for the girl; she is taken somewhere so they can look at her and decide for what she may bring them most in monies. I have heard of a place in the city just beyond The Great River, a place that looks like a palace...where the women are very beautiful...Your sister could be there; she was indeed beautiful...”
    Aranya spent many more days in fields with Sarac, talked to her many times, but never got any more useful information. But she had enough to give herself a picture of what would unfold.
    And she had had no doubt about the purpose and the direction of the man in the oxcart from the moment she had seen him clear the horizon. Work stopped in the fields, and people slowly gathered in front of the house of Aranya’s parents.
    Her mother and father came in from the fields and stood with the small crowd, trying desperately to appear as if they knew not what all the ado was about.
    As the man drew very near, it was the mother who spoke to Aranya. “Daughter, you must leave us now. Thy belongings have been made ready. When the man gets here, you will go with him. He will take care of you.”
    Aranya stood there before the house and said nothing. The man stopped the oxcart near the house. He said nothing.
    The father entered the house and brought out Aranya’s few items of clothing wrapped in a cloth. These he put in the back of the oxcart.
    The mother pulled her aside. “Aranya, your sister should not have come here when she did; but, other than that, she has been a good daughter. She has sent us some of her earnings all these years. You must do the same, for, after all, we brought you into the world, and we have looked after you since you were born...”
    “Tell me, truly: would you not send me now, even if we had an ox to give for the rent?”
    “What, daughter? You are still talking this nonsense? We only do what we must...And, truly, it is best for you to get away from here now...”
    “Best for me? Best for Ling? Yes, I go now - I have no choice...And I promise I will never return to this place...nor can you expect to be receiving anything from me...no matter what I earn!”
    She climbed into the cart without looking back at her parents or any of the crowd of watchers.
    The pudgy man in the dark city suit made a wide arc with the ox to turn the cart in the opposing direction. He had said nothing.
    She studied the man lightly, taking in his bloated features and his strange formal clothing.
    The only decision she had to make for herself was whether to approach him before or after the horizon - on how one gets to the city just beyond The Great River.

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