Part 1 England
I The Day Before
“Do we have to drive all this way, it’s all boring wasteland and scruffy peasants, too cold and wet to enjoy the outdoors, just to see some ancient religious ceremony which will only be chanting and smelly stuff” whined Talaka to her husband as he drove the hire car up Autoroute 1 towards York.
“I promise you, this festival is different, only a few of these are done in Europe now, and this is the biggest and has a surprise which I’m keeping from you” replied Xoplis, glad that the Autoroutes were Browns-Only, and his fast Shawnee-built sports car could go at its maximum speed, away from the lumbering old bangers the Whites drove.
Xoplis and Talaka were doing the Grand Tour, 14 days hopping from region to region round the European colony. Every well-heeled couple from the Mayan Empire enjoyed a holiday in the Colonies, though most went to the capital, Rome, and similar sunny resorts in the south, very few ventured to the cold, wet island called England. Xoplis was an academic interested in the old religions, so wanted to see some christian rituals, especially those involving crucifixion. Talaka was looking forward to buying some native-european trinkets in France and Italy to impress the neighbours back home.
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It was Friday tomorrow, and Geraldine was getting more nervous than excited now. Ever since her village, Leeds, had been chosen to provide the Jesua for the Easter festival, she had dreamt of the day, and all the preliminaries had been done, her body was prepared, and her part, although central, involved virtually no learning.
“Come along, Geraldine, have you got the cloak?” asked her mother, Ruth, struggling with the food hamper as they headed to the bus stop.
“Yes mother, not that it stays on long” snapped Geraldine, the outburst going unremarked by Ruth, who knew what the girl was going through, being a Holy-One herself.
The old bus wheezed along the rough dirt and stone track, and took nearly two hours to go the 12 miles to Otley. They wished they could use the Autoroute, they could see it in the distance, swooping over the valley of the River Wharfe on huge legs, but it wasn’t for the likes of them. Geraldine thought the apartheid system sucked, but they had to live with it.
Once in Otley, they walked to the church where Mother Vera was waiting for them. “Oh, Ruth, she looks quite splendid, she’ll make an excellent Jesua. A bit nervous my dear?”
“Yes, Mother, very.”
“Don’t worry, we know what we’re doing, in fact the show looks better if you’re nervous and confused, so we’ll say no more about tomorrow, just get you settled down in the crypt, and let the hoards get their money’s worth.”
“What are the bookings like this year?” asked Ruth, knowing a percentage would come back to Leeds.
“Not so good as last year, probably because of the cold Spring, but we’re getting more and more Chinese now, not so many from the Empire.”
They descended the steps to the crypt, and saw a circular cell in the middle, bars going from floor to ceiling, and manacles fasted on a diagonal, top and bottom. “You know what to do?” asked Mother Vera to Geraldine. Geraldine just nodded, and peeled off her dress and underwear. Vera and Ruth fastened the rusty old manacles to Geraldine’s wrists, tightening the bolts with spanners, chains keeping her arms out to her sides but not too tight. “Now the ankles, dear.” With her feet reasonably comfortable on sloping blocks, Geraldine’s ankles were shackled apart with more chains.
Ruth gave her daughter a kiss and a hug, and Mother Vera gave a hug as well, then they left the cell, locking the barred door.
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“It smells in here,” moaned Talaka, as they ventured in to the crypt. “Oh by the God of Love, look at her!”
Xoplis needed no invitation to look at Geraldine, she was splayed out for all to see, her sex neatly trimmed to get a good view.
“Hello. What…….is…….your…….name?” asked Xoplis, in halting English, while Talaka fought to control her emotions, admiration for her husband who understood the weird native language, but resentment that his eyes were fixed on Geraldine’s crotch.
“My name’s Geraldine, Sir. Honoured to meet you, Sir.”
“You….give…..good…..show. Much….pain”
“Oh, I will, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“This place is horrible” Talaka went on “just throw the sodding tomatoes and let’s get out of here, I need a drink.”
Xoplis dutifully threw the rotting tomatoes they had purchased at the entrance, aiming for the breasts and scoring four out of six, and they left. Geraldine knew she was in for a long night, she’d seen five crates of the things on the stall. But it was easy money, and eventually she’d be a Holy-One.
tbc