“I should think they would kill him.”
“No. Then she would be a widow, and unable to marry again for a year. They wouldn’t like that.”
“But don’t they protect her from rape?”
“Yes, if they don’t like the man. But if they like him, they make her go out alone so he can get her. If she likes him, she doesn’t scream much. For my brother, there are several who would not scream at all. So I am a hindrance; if I don’t marry soon he will lose the best of them, because they won’t wait long.”
Hero was appalled, but also intrigued. “Suppose the wrong man steals a girl? One her family doesn’t like?”
She smiled. “Sometimes it is not easy for her to arrange to be where the one she wants can get her, instead of where the one her family wants can do it. But if she manages, then they have to accept him.”
“I mean one nobody likes. A stranger, or bad man, who comes upon her unaware.”
“One from another tribe,” she clarified. “He must get her all the way to his tribe, where his kin can protect him, before her kin catch him. Or he can rape her immediately, and hope that they prefer to have her married than widowed. If they decide to let him have her, but remain angry, they might have one of their men rape his sister and flee without marrying her. If her kin don’t know who the man is, there’s not much they can do. So it’s a good vengeance.”
“Don’t any girls marry for love?”
“Oh, yes, of course, when they get the right man. But when their families choose someone else, and watch her closely, what can she do? I have a friend, and she wouldn’t go out alone when the man her family wanted was near, so he came into her house and raped her there, and none of her family heard her screams, they said. Now she is with child.”
Hero considered. “We do not practice rape. Not for marriage. We punish it by killing the man, or cutting off his penis. But neither do girls always get to choose their own. Their fathers or brothers may decide. Sometimes they will choose a man the girl likes, sometimes not. But there is no violence.”
“Suppose she marries unwillingly, and resists her husband?”
“She wouldn’t. He has the right.”
“But if she hates him, and fights him?”
He saw her point. “Then perhaps you could call it rape.”
“So you are not so different from us. You just phrase it differently.”
“Still, I would not. I would not marry a girl who didn’t want me, and would not force her, ever.”
“Would you beat her, to make her amenable?”
“No!”
She squeezed his buttock. “I like you better yet. But I would never give you cause to beat me.”
He knew he should send her back to the house, before she tempted him beyond endurance. But it was difficult to give up the pleasure of her proximity, and he remained curious about her culture. “Suppose I took you, not raping you, just doing it because you were willing? That would not be rape. Would I not have to marry you?”
“You can’t take me willingly. I am a virgin.”
He ran his fingers into the crevice between her buttocks, feeling the heat and wetness there. “You desire me, as I desire you. If I asked, and you agreed—”
“I will not agree. You must rape me.”
“I will not rape you! And I don’t mean to marry you. But you are doing your best to get me into you. I don’t believe you are unwilling.”
She moved her hand around inside his loinskin, to the front, and found his erect member. She clasped it, clearly having no fear of it. “I want you. I want this hot stick in me. But I will not give you leave. You can overpower me and do it, but I will fight you.”
She was astonishingly candid. He tried to be the same. “You have made me mad with desire for you. But I will never force a woman.”
“You must rape me. There is no other way.”
This had gone more than far enough. “Then return to your house now.”
“No. I love it in your strong embrace.”
“Then I will go elsewhere, leaving you here by the fire.”
“I will go with you.”
“No.” He flung off the cloak and sat up, dragging free of her hand.
“Yes. You can’t keep me away.”
“Yes I can,” he said, getting to his feet.
She got up with him, and put her arms around him. “No you can’t.”
“Yes I can. Now go, before I—” But he couldn’t finish, for she was kissing his neck.
“What are you going to do?” she inquired slyly after a moment. “Beat me?”
“You are trying to drive me to violence,” he exclaimed.
“Yes, this first time. After this there will be no need, for we will be married.”
He realized that there was more to this trap than he had supposed. She was trying to seduce him by temptation or violence, and either would do the job. He needed to proceed carefully, avoiding either extreme.
He took up his staff and spear and began walking away from the house, uncertain where he was going, but needing to go somewhere. The darkness beyond the dying fire offered some comfort. She went with him, staying very close.
“Isn’t this like rape, what you are trying to do?” he demanded. “To trap me into marrying you when I don’t want to?”
“Yes. Sometimes that is the way of it.”
“You mean that girls get men to marry them involuntarily?”
“Yes. When a girl wants a man, and he doesn’t want her, if she can get him alone she can say he raped her, and then he has to marry her.”
The aspects of this culture continued to be intriguing and, to a degree, frightening. “But can’t someone—her mother, perhaps—examine her, and know it isn’t true?”
She held up something. “Feel this.”
He reached across and touched the dark object she held. It was the bone handle of her knife, rounded to fit her hand. “What of it?”
“With this, a girl can quickly stop being a virgin. She can also bruise her face and body.”
And who would believe the man’s innocence? “I see that girls are not defenseless, any more than your house is.”
“It is true we have ways. But we seldom need them.”
“You would do this to me? Knowing that I wish you no harm?”
“I will be good for you, Hero,” she pleaded. “I know how to forage and keep a house. I will play music for you, and kiss you and part my legs for you whenever you want it. You will never be ashamed of me.”
“Except that I am trying to help my family. I can’t settle down until they are secure. Just as your brother can’t settle until he knows you are placed.”
She suddenly stopped walking. He paused, turning back to her. “Are you all right, Crenelle?”
“Go, before I change my mind,” she said tightly. “Go.”
“You are letting me go?” he asked, stupidly amazed.
“Get away from me!” There was a catch in her voice.
He remained nonplussed. “Are you crying?”
“You fish-brain! Tears are a weapon too. Get away from me now, or I will have you forever.”
It was the truth. But he could not do it. “It is not safe for you out here alone. Come back to the house.”
“You are too stupid to save yourself!” she cried. “So I must save you.” She ran to the side, into the darkness.
He pursued her, moved by her flash of decency. He had made an analogy with her brother, and it was clear that she truly loved her brother. “Crenelle, wait!”
“Oh!” He heard her fall. She had tripped over something.
He caught up to her, and knelt beside her, dropping his weapons. “Are you hurt?”
“Don’t try to comfort me. I can’t save you from yourself.”
He ran his hands over her body, feeling for injuries. She seemed to be all right. “We must go back to the house.”
She caught his head in her hands and hauled it in to her face. She kissed him savagely. His head reeled, and his desire for
her became overwhelming. They fell back to the ground, tangled together. Then she thrust his face away. “This is your last chance,” she gasped. “Get away from me before you succumb. You know I can make you do it.”
“I know. But maybe it would be worth it.”
She slapped him. “Get away, get away, you utter fool!”
He caught her hands. “Please, Crenelle!”
“I’ll scream.”
Suddenly it came together in another way, and he started laughing, helplessly, still holding her beneath him.
“What is the matter with you?” she demanded. “You’re about to rape me for real, destroying your commitment to your family, and you laugh?”
“That’s what’s so funny. You have goaded me into truly raping you—and you’re trying to stop me, though it’s what you want.”
She relaxed, laughing herself. “You’re right. This is weird. But you know you shouldn’t do it. Now I’ll give you a count of ten fingers to let go of me, before I kiss you again and rip off your loinskin and wrap my legs around you. This is truly my last warning. One. Two. Three. Four.”
But then she paused, and so did he. For they both heard something else. In sudden silence, they listened.
It was the sound of something bounding through the brush toward them. It was an animal, a large one.
There was a snarl. “The leopard!” Crenelle cried, horrified.
Hero let go of her and grabbed for his weapons. “Stay down and quiet,” he said. “I’ll stop it.”
She didn’t argue. She went still and silent. He stood over her, his spear poised in his right hand, his staff in his left. He tracked the leopard by sound alone, and this was good enough, for he was experienced in night hunting as well as day hunting. He braced to meet the onslaught.
The creature sprang—and Hero thrust with his spear, going for the head. He felt the impact, but it wasn’t right; he had caught skin rather than mouth.
The body came up against the staff, which Hero held crosswise before him, defensively. The impact shoved him back, and he fell, the leopard on top. But he shoved forward and up with the staff, pushing the cat back. He had to stop the teeth and claws from scoring.
Then the creature jerked away, dragging the spear. It fled. It had been looking for an easy kill, not this complicated fight.
“It’s gone,” Hero said. “Are you all right?”
Crenelle stirred. “Yes. You saved me.”
“I saved myself! I shoved it off, and it ran on.”
“It would have killed me,” she said, shaking.
He put his arm around her shoulders. “I had to pay for my food and lodging. I agreed to protect you.”
She was silent, and he knew she was crying. He drew her in to his shoulder.
“Don’t comfort me!” she flared. “You know what will happen.”
He nodded in the darkness. “I think I wouldn’t mind marrying you, Crenelle. You have courage and good reflexes.”
“I lay on the ground, terrified, and now I’m crying. That’s not courage or good.”
“It is good. You did what I told you, so I could fight it without you getting in the way. I needed to know exactly where you were, in the darkness, so I wouldn’t hit you. You didn’t panic. Now it’s done, and it’s time to react.”
“If I had been alone, I’d be dead.”
“If you had been alone, you wouldn’t have gone out from your house.”
“You’re a decent man. I do want to marry you. But I have to let you see to your family.”
“And you are a decent woman. You tried to protect me from myself, after you won our contest of wills. I appreciate that. Now I desire you more than before. It’s not just your body; your music reached me first.”
“But that’s part of it. You know that.”
He nodded in the darkness. “You tried to impress me, and you succeeded. I think you are as good a woman as I am likely to find. I think there is a way. Would you leave your home and join my family?”
Her head snapped up. “Yes!”
“Then maybe I will marry you.”
“Will you rape me?”
“No.”
“But you have to, or there is no marriage.”
He hesitated, his desire for her burgeoning again. “Can’t we just. . . just say I did it?”
“No!”
“But you were ready to rape yourself, and accuse me. Why not accuse me without violence?”
“I can’t do that now. I owe you my life.”
“Then repay me by marrying me without violence.”
“I would like to, but it wouldn’t be real.”
He remembered something else she had said. “But you are a virgin. If I have sex with you, it’s rape by your definition, isn’t it?”
She brightened. “Yes.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“Yes,” she said gladly.
He stood and removed his loinskin, and she removed her skirt. They lay together on the ground. She kissed him ardently and wrapped her legs around him. Her body was hot and eager.
But when he sought to enter her, she fought him. “No!”
He stopped immediately. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
“Do it!”
He started to enter again, but again she struggled. “I don’t understand.”
“I have to fight you, the first time. I can’t help it. That’s the way it has to be.”
“But then I can’t do it.”
“Please try, Hero. I think I love you already.”
“But it’s just not in my nature to do anything like that to a woman.”
She considered. “Give me your hand.”
He shifted his balance and held up his right hand. She grasped his wrist with her left hand. “Make a fist.”
He made a fist. Then she shoved his hand violently into her face.
“Crenelle!” he cried, drawing his hand back and opening it. “What is this?”
“Do it!” she repeated. “Now you have hit me. Now I will scream. But you anticipate that, and—” She jammed his open hand across her mouth.
At last he caught on. He was stopping her from screaming.
He sought a third time to enter her, but the position had changed and he was not aligned. This time her right hand grasped his member and corrected its course. He started to thrust, and she let go and lunged to meet him, as if struggling to free herself. She twisted, and her right hand came around and up to scratch his back. Then her fingers caught his hair and yanked his face down to meet hers. She kissed him savagely, her interior muscles clenching.
He pulsed inside her, transported. He had done it. She had actually done most of it for him, but perhaps it counted.
They relaxed together. “And never again will I resist you,” she murmured in his ear.
“Never again will I force you,” he said. He suppressed a foolish laugh.
“We are married.”
He hesitated. “Crenelle, this is not the way I—”
She cut him off with another kiss. “It is the way we do it.”
In due course they disengaged, got up, dressed, and made their way back to the house. Haven was standing by the fire, which she had built up to flare more brightly. “What happened?”
“He raped me,” Crenelle said.
Haven stared at her. “He what?”
“He threw me down and hit me and stifled my scream. I couldn’t stop him.”
Haven looked at Hero. He averted his gaze. She knew that he would never force a woman, but she didn’t understand what was going on.
“I tried to fight. See, I scratched his back.” Crenelle pointed to the place she had scraped him.
“So what does this mean?” Haven asked cautiously.
“So now we’re married,” Crenelle concluded.
Haven looked again at Hero. This time he had to speak. “She says she will join our family, and help us look for good land.”
“But what of your brother?” Haven asked.
“Now he can rape his own woman, and bring her here. Before someone else gets her. There is one who wants him. She has held out about as long as she can, hoping he’d come. Now he will. They should be happy.”
“That’s nice,” Haven said noncommittally. “Now we need to get some sleep.”
“Now you can join me inside,” Crenelle said to Hero. “It’s more comfortable there.”
“I can sleep outside,” Haven said.
“No, you can be in with us. If you don’t mind what we do.”
Haven looked once more at her brother. Hero shrugged. She knew about sex, and was figuring out that Crenelle was not an unwilling partner. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“He also saved my life,” the girl said.
Haven’s lips quirked. “That too?”
“Yes. From the leopard. He fought it and drove it off. Just before he raped me.”
She kept insisting on the rape, and that kept restoring his doubt. He was willing to marry her, but not to do it by a lie.
Haven nodded. “He is thoughtful about things like that.”
They went inside, and Hero joined Crenelle on her mat. He had thought to sleep, but she embraced him and kissed him repeatedly, and summoned his desire again. This time she made no mock resistance. She was showing him all that she had to offer, to solidify his resolve to marry her.
It turned out to be a long night, for Crenelle was endlessly ardent. But Hero didn’t mind it at all. At last she tired, and remained asleep, and he was able to sleep too.
In the morning Haven was up first, tending the fire. Hero got up and went out to urinate, leaving Crenelle sleeping. He was somewhat bemused by his new state of companionship, but not regretful. Crenelle had excited more than his passion; he believed that she would be a good wife. But the idea of calling it rape repelled him.
“You didn’t really rape her,” Haven murmured as he joined her by the fire. “You wouldn’t, and anyway, no victim would be that passionate.”
“Her culture requires rape, so we played at it,” he said. “But we must not say that openly.”
“She seems competent. But you know it’s not binding by our culture. What made you decide to have sex with her?”
“She wanted me so much, it made me want her. And she does have a good body.”
“I saw her showing you her cleft. I know that’s pretty exciting for you.” She was alluding to an episode with another girl, who had exposed her genital region and let him penetrate her while others watched, in a kind of game. She was right: even as a game, it was immensely compelling. Women might mock the reactions of men, but the reactions were nevertheless real, and women took free advantage of them to get their way. Women never showed more than they were prepared to have touched, because of the force of male reactions. “Well, go and have at it again, before we have to travel.”