A holiday treat for all the gremlins on this site!
Content Warnings:
- Violence during pregnancy
- A bit of light to moderate blasphemy (At least I hope it's only light! I wrote this as a bit of fun for Christmas, it's not intended as commentary or mockery of anybody's religious beliefs. Apologies if it does come across that way at all.)
Mary was having a bad day.
She’d been travelling for days along with her husband; 90 miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem, all for a stupid census. Though she hadn’t walked a step of the way—her husband Joseph had insisted that she be the one to ride on the donkey while he made the long, arduous journey entirely on foot—she was still sore. She was grateful for the little donkey for carrying her safely on her way; she was not so grateful for the saddle sores.
The donkey in question brayed in the corner of the room, munching on a well-earned pile of hay. When they’d arrived at the inn, Mary had wanted nothing more than to lay down on a soft bed and finally get some rest. Neither she nor her husband had imagined that every single inn in the town would be completely full. And so, instead of resting across a feather bed, or lounging next to a warm fireplace, she found herself perched atop a wooden manger in a rickety old stable. Her only company were sheep, pigs and her loyal old donkey.
Normally, Mary wasn’t the kind to expect special treatment. Still though, she’d been a little surprised that nobody had given up their rooms for her as, on top of all of her other woes, she was heavily pregnant.
She shivered as a biting wind blew through the stable, bundling her robe around her to stave off the cold. This was no place for a pregnant woman. Joseph had realised that as soon as they’d set foot in here; he’d seen to it that she was as comfortable as could be, then immediately headed back inside to try to renegotiate with the innkeep. After all, she could give birth any day now. Would she have to do it here, among the cattle? Would she have to lay her newborn down to bed in a manger rather than a crib?
The sheep bleated as the door swung open, letting in a burst of freezing air. Light filled the room as a figure holding a lantern entered; Joseph must have returned.
“What did he say?” Mary asked, a hint of hope in her voice.
The figure made no response at first. As her eyes adjusted the the light, Mary realised why; this was not Joseph.
Mary had disliked the innkeep’s wife the moment she’d laid eyes on her. She didn’t know the woman’s name; “Jezebel” was what she’d been calling her in her head, and it fit her well. She’d been the one to open the door when they’d arrived; the woman had taken one look at the bedraggled man and his heavily pregnant wife and turned them away without a second thought. It had been the innkeeper himself who had taken pity on them and offered them a place in the stable.
The Jezebel had watched on as Joseph begged her husband for a room, making no attempt to hide her disdain for the desperate couple. When the innkeeper had suggested the use of the stable, his wife had audibly scoffed. Mary had wanted to punch the woman then and there.
Now, the woman stood in front of her in the stable, lantern in hand. She wore a simple, long-sleeved white shift with a brown leather apron tied about her waist, a grey headscarf and a pair of simple leather sandals. The light from the lamp cast shadows across her dark brown face. The woman was slight in build, as far as Mary could discern beneath her loose clothes, and looked to be no more than five years Mary’s senior, around her late-20s.
The light illuminated Mary, whose attire contrasted with that of her unexpected guest. She wore a white tunic and a soft blue robe. Her white headscarf framed her round, olive-toned face. Her own feet were bare; her husband’s shoes had all but disintegrated on the journey, and she’d insisted that he take her sandals while she rode. She was similarly slight, but for the large belly of a woman nine months pregnant.
Her visitor had said nothing since entering the stable; she’d simply been staring at Mary, eyes flicking between her face and her swollen belly. Without a word, she strode into the room, closing the heavy doors behind her. She walked up to one of the stalls, placing her lantern on the shelf. In the stall behind the door, Mary’s donkey brayed at the woman, seemingly irritated by her approach. Mary respected the animal’s taste in people.
Her hands free, Jezebel turned back to face Mary. She still hadn’t spoken a word since entering.
“Can I help you?” Mary eventually asked, no longer able to take the silence.
The woman treated Mary to a sneer. “I think you should leave.” she said, simply.
“But, your husband said…”
“I don’t care what my husband said. I want you gone. There’s no room here for the likes of you.”
Mary stood, bringing herself up to eye level with the woman. She was exhausted; the thought of getting into an argument was daunting. But she also wasn’t about to back down; not when she had a baby to think about. She met the other woman’s piercing stare and refused to look away.
“I get that there’s no room at the inn, but what’s wrong with us using your stable?” Mary asked.
She didn’t get a response right away; the woman just kept staring at her.
“I’m not interested in your husband, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Mary continued after the silence had stretched on too long.
The scowl that fell across the other woman’s face told Mary that her guess had been correct; for whatever reason, she felt threatened by Mary.
“I’ve seen your kind before,” said Jezebel, seemingly ignoring Mary’s comment. “Temptresses who show up here pretending to be innocent little maidens, then sink their claws into my husband. It’s a weakness of his. I want you gone before you take advantage.”
“Look, I told you I’m not interested in your husband,” Mary began, exasperation creeping into her voice. “All we want is a roof over our head and maybe…”
She paused. Something about what the Jezebel had said stuck out to her.
“What do you mean by ‘pretending to be a maiden’?” she asked.
Jezebel laughed without mirth. Her eyes darted to Mary’s swollen belly, then back up to look her in the eye.
“Seriously? Are you really trying to pass yourself off as a virgin with a belly like that? Our husbands may have fallen for that “immaculate conception” crap, but I know what you really are.”
Mary’s face was flushed with anger. Who did this woman think she was, barging in here, demanding a pregnant woman go out in the cold?
“Oh?” she said through gritted teeth. “And what is it that you know about me?”
“You’re a whore,” Jezebel replied simply. “You fucked someone behind your husband’s back, got pregnant, then made up some bullshit story about ‘the child of god’ to cover it up. Incredibly, it actually worked! Tell me, who’s the actual father? Do you have a brother-in-law you got too friendly with? Or was it a stranger? Or maybe you…”
CRACK
Mary didn’t let her finish that last thought. She struck the woman with a hard slap that stopped her mid-sentence and reddened her right cheek.
She immediately regretted it; she wasn’t typically a violent person. Her rage had gotten the better of her; she was exhausted, cold and emotional, and in came this Jezebel, trying to kick her out in the cold and making vile accusations against her to boot. Any reasonable person would have seen red.
“Look,” Mary started to say. “I’m sor…”
CRACK
The strike took her across the left cheek, rocking her head to the side. When she turned back to look at her assailant, she saw nothing but fury behind her eyes.
“YOU BITCH!” she screamed.
She leaped forward, hands outstretched. Caught off guard, Mary could do nothing to prevent herself from being tackled, falling on her back into the manger with the furious woman on top of her.
Immediately, blows started to rain down on Mary, striking her face, her head, her shoulders. She instinctively brought her hands up not to protect her face, but to protect her swollen belly. She squirmed in the hay, desperate to free herself, but her attacker had her pinned.
“Stop!” Mary cried. “Please!”
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The blows only seemed to get harder and harder. The stable was filled with the sounds of sheep bleating, cattle lowing, her donkey braying, all spooked by the sudden flurry of movement.
“I said, STOP!” Mary yelled, more forcefully.
Through some effort, Mary managed to free one of her legs from under the other woman. Planting her bare foot firmly against her attacker’s chest, she kicked off hard. The woman was launched backwards, arms flailing madly. She stumbled across the floor, tripped, and landed on her back in the hay.
Mary scrambled to her feet, looking down at the prone woman. This was her opportunity to flee, sprint as fast as she could through the stable door and back to the inn. She could find Joseph and the innkeep, tell them what had just happened to her. Her husband would protect her. Plus, if the innkeep believed her story, maybe he’d find room for them indoors by way of an apology.
All of these thoughts went through Mary’s head in an instant. All of them were drowned out by by another thought, the memory of the words her Jezebel had said to her only moments ago:
You’re a whore
Mary landed on the vulnerable woman, straddling her waist with her legs. Now it was her turn to rain down blows on her enemy, delivering slaps and punches to the disadvantaged woman as she tried in vain to block the attacks.
Suddenly, Mary felt a sharp tug to the left side of her scalp; her headscarf had slipped at some point during the fray, letting her raven hair spill free. Her victim had managed to grasp a handful of said hair, and was pulling with all her strength.
Mary toppled to one side under the force of the hairpull, landing on her side in the hay. For a moment the two women lay side by side, chests heaving. Mary noticed that the hand in her hair had not loosened it’s grip.
Suddenly, the grip tightened. Irate, Mary reached out and grabbed the other woman’s headscarf, tearing it off her head in one swift motion. She immediately grasped twin handfuls of the long brown hair that spilled out, tugging hard in either direction. She felt a sharp pain on either side of her scalp as the other woman ramped up her own tugging in response.
They continued to pull hair, lying side by side in the dingy stable. Their eyes met, full of fury and malice. Mary felt a pain in her thigh as the other woman kicked out with her bare foot, her sandals lost somewhere in the hay. Mary returned the favour, striking the woman’s legs over and over.
Suddenly, her enemy lurched upwards, rolling up and trying to straddle Mary. Unfortunately for her, Mary had no intention of letting the other woman pin her again; she twisted her hips, casting Jezebel from the top spot just as quickly as she’d gained it. Now it was Mary’s turn to roll on top of her rival, but she was thrown off just as quickly.
The two women continued to tumble through the hay, hands buried in one another’s hair. Their legs tangled, thighs squeezing and feet wrestling. Mary was startled to hear a low, guttural growl. She wondered if some kind of wolf or other predator had managed to get into the stable, before she realised that the animalistic sounds were coming from the woman she was wrestling with. She was even more startled to realise that a similar sound was coming from her own throat as they brawled in the hay.
There was a thunderous crash as the furious ball collided with a wooden dividing wall between stalls. The impact stunned the two women, momentarily breaking up their brawl. Releasing her opponent, Mary rolled to one side. The two women lay on their backs, gasping for breath. Mary didn’t know how she’d been able to fight like that; she’d had never even been in a fight before, never mind how exhausted she was from travel. It was nothing short of miraculous that she’d been able to hold her own as long as she had.
Mary rolled onto her side to face the woman lying prone beside her. Both of them were in a state of dishevelment; their hair was a mess, knotted and filled with loose straw. Jezebel’s apron had been lost to the hay at some point, as had Mary’s robe. Both women were reduced to nothing but their loose underlayer, both of which had ridden up to bare their arms and legs.
As Mary glared, Jezebel too rolled onto her side. Meeting each other’s gaze, the two women’s faces contorted into snarls.
“What’s…. your…. problem?” Mary demanded between gasping breaths.
“My…. problem?” the woman replied, indignant. “You…. started…. it!”
“You…. attacked me!”
“Only because…. you slapped me!”
“You…. called me a…. whore!”
“You are…. a whore!”
The woman punctuated the last word by winding her leg back and kicking. Her bare foot connected with Mary’s upper thigh, dangerously close to her swollen belly.
“Hey!” Mary yelled, suddenly panicked. “Stop! You’re going to hurt the baby!”
The woman grinned, a cruel glint in her eye. “Baby? What baby? I thought you were a virgin?”
She kicked out again, striking even closer to Mary’s belly.
“Stop!” Mary begged. “Please!”
“Make me!” Jezebel spat.
Her next kick was aimed squarely at Mary’s stomach. Mary was ready, however; her hands shot out, gripping the bare foot of her attacker. Furious at the attempt to harm her baby, she squeezed hard, digging her nails into the soft skin.
The woman’s face turned from confident and cruel to pained and panicked in an instant. “Hey!” she cried. “Let go!”
“Make me,” Mary said, mockingly.
She tried. The prone woman struck out with her other foot. Fortunately, Mary anticipated this attack too; she caught the woman’s leg as it flew towards her. Now with a foot in each hand, she made her move. Dragging the prone woman by the feet, she rolled her over onto her front with her head facing away from Mary. Mary straddled her, sitting down heavily on top of the Jezebel’s buttocks with her knees folded beneath her and her back to the woman’s torso.
With no way for her opponent to escape, Mary set to work; She grasped her victim’s bare feet, squeezing them and raking her nails across the tender flesh. She thrust her fingers between the toes, wrenching them apart.
The prone woman screamed in pain, trying in vain to twist her body around far enough to reach Mary with her hands. She flailed her legs, but Mary’s grip was too strong.
“I told you to stop,” Mary said, twisting the left little toe as hard as she could. “All I wanted was a place to stay, and you wanted to kick me out into the cold! Well you won't be kicking anyone anymore!”
With a malice she hadn’t known she had in her, Mary clamped her jaws around the woman’s left foot, biting down hard on her toes. Her captive’s screams joined the chorus of confused livestock.
Suddenly, Mary felt a sharp pain in her own left foot; the prone woman had stopped trying to wriggle herself free, instead reaching down and digging her own claws into the exposed sole. Mary yelped involuntarily, her back straightening from the surprise.
Jezebel took full advantage of her moment of shock, thrusting her butt upwards and toppling the unbalanced woman to one side. Mary collapsed into the hay beside her former captive, laying on her back with her head at the woman’s feet.
Before she could recover, Mary felt something connect with her face; the woman’s bare foot, striking her cheek. Instead of drawing back, the foot stayed where it was, pressing into her face.
Mary heard a cackle. “You said I wouldn’t be kicking anyone anymore,” the woman sneered. “Looks like you were wrong!”
Her laughter was cut off when Mary struck her face with a kick of her own. She grinded her heel into the woman’s sneering face, refusing to let up.
They lay side by side in the hay, shoving their feet into one another’s faces. Soon, each woman had brought the other foot into the mix as well. They grunted and moaned with effort as they struggled side-by-side in the dim light. Mary grasped at the feet in her face with her hands, trying in vain to pull them away. Fortunately, her opponent was having no more luck as she attempted the same.
Mary jabbed with her right foot and managed to jam her big toe into the mouth of her opponent. Her moment of triumph was short lived, as she felt teeth clamp down on her toe. Mary yelped in pain, yanking both feet away from the jaw of her enemy. Jezebel responded in kind, releasing the pressure on Mary’s face.
Both women shot up into siting positions, their faces coming within inches of one another.
“What is wrong with you?” Mary demanded.
“You were the one who started biting, you vicious bitch!” her enemy replied.
“You’re the one who attacked a pregnant woman! I just want you to leave me alone!”
“I just want you out of my stable!”
As they argued back and forth, they inched closer and closer together, shuffling across the dirty floor on their butts. Both women were filthy by now, covered in straw and dust and what Mary chose to believe was mud. Their remaining clothing was dirty and torn in several places, their hair a tangled mess.
Finally, their chests met. The sensation triggered something in the two women, who simultaneously shot out their arms, wrapping them around the other’s back. They pulled in close, breasts flattening together under their shifts. Their faces clashed, meeting nose to nose. Even in the dim light, Mary could make out the malice in the woman’s eyes.
“Last chance whore,” the woman said, squeezing ever tighter. “Get away from me and my husband!”
“Not a chance.” Mary said, returning the tight squeeze.
That was it. Realising that neither would back down, both Mary and her opponent began to squeeze with all their might. Groans of pain and exertion escaped both of their lips as their chests crushed. Mary leaned forwards, making sure her precious belly was out of crushing range. The same could not be said for her breasts, however; they were in agony. She could only hope that her rival was suffering the same pain. Judging by her face, she was.
They started to twist where they sat, wrenching each other’s bodies from side to side as the squeeze continued. Inevitably, they toppled to one side, still wrapped in a tight embrace. They immediately started to jostle for the top spot once more, rolling over and over in the hay. Their legs tangled once more, squeezing each other’s thighs as they continued to crush one another’s chest. Their bare feet rubbed together, writhing and wrestling.
Mary’s back struck something hard as they rolled; the door of one of the stalls swung open from the impact of their collision with it. A split second later, something struck Mary hard on the back of her head. The world went dark.
Mary’s initial reaction was panic; somehow, the Jezebel had blinded her! As her head cleared though, she pieced together what had happened. The lantern left on a shelf by the other woman had fallen, shaken loose by their impact with the stable door. That was what had struck Mary, the impact shattering the glass and snuffing out the candle within.
Both women remained frozen in place, still locked in their violent hug. Silence had fallen in the stable; even the animals seemed to be holding their breath. Mary expected any moment to see a burst of flame, the candle igniting the dry hay and engulfing the stable with the two women inside. It never happened. By some minor miracle, the hay hadn’t caught, and the room remained dark.
For a moment, Mary thought that that was it; the sudden darkness combined with the shock of a near death experience had brought the fight to close. She was soon proven wrong. Jezebel tightened her grip, squeezing tighter than ever on Mary’s back, and wrenched her to the side. They rolled once more, her foe ending up on top. She didn’t remain there for long though, as Mary threw her right back off and attempted to retake her position. The fight was back on.
They tumbled in the dark, unable to see a thing. Not that they needed to see much; their target was right in front of them, coiled in their arms and legs. They collided with walls again and again, unable to avoid them in the pitch blackness. This time, nothing fell on top of them. The collisions didn’t slow the brawl; they had hardly connected with the wall before they were rolling off in the other direction.
At some point, Mary couldn’t have said when, they gave up on squeezing each other’s backs. Instead, their hands returned to their foe’s hair, ripping and tearing as they continued to brawl across the hard floor. Their bare legs continued to squeeze and writhe like a pair of serpents.
Mary found herself at a disadvantage; the back of her head throbbed where it had been struck. The constant pressure being exerted on her scalp wasn’t helping. She was still disoriented, not quite sure where she was at any given time.
She suddenly found herself on her back, the other woman straddling her waist, hands pinned behind her head. She couldn’t quite remember how she’d gotten there. Not that that was important; what she needed was a way to get free. Unfortunately, one wasn’t coming to her. She wriggled feebly under the other woman in a vain attempt to escape. She was trapped.
Her Jezebel knew it too: “Are you sure you want to stay here now?” she asked. Even in pure darkness, Mary felt that she could see the evil smile on her assailant's face.
Mary didn’t reply. Her reward was a hard slap across the cheek, the sharp CRACK echoing throughout the dark room. Mary heard her little donkey braying from elsewhere in the barn, apparently as distressed by the situation as she was.
“I asked you a question, harlot!” Another sharp CRACK echoed throughout the barn as Mary’s head rocked to the other side. Both cheeks stung where she’d been struck.
“Please…. don’t….” Mary whimpered.
“What was that?” her captor’s smug voice said. “Don’t what? Don’t stop hitting you? Alright then.”
THWACK
Mary waited for the pain. None came. The sound had been louder this time, and duller than the previous slaps. Mary was surprised to find herself free, the weight gone from her waist. She was more confused than ever.
Slowly, groggily, she got to her feet. Where had the other woman gone? She could hear pained groaning coming from beside her. What on earth had just happened?
She tiptoed gingerly across the room. When she hit a wall, she groped her way along until she found the double doors that led outside. After fumbling with the latch in the dark, she threw the doors open.
Light spilled into the stable, the moonless sky lit up by a particularly bright star directly above. Looking back inside, Mary made sense of the scene in front of her.
The Inkeep’s wife lay in the hay, conscious but dazed. Beside her stood Mary’s little donkey. It had it’s back to the woman on the ground, it’s head tilted in Mary’s direction as though it were asking for approval. It didn’t take a magus to work out what had happened; during their fight, at the same time as they’d toppled over the lantern, the door to the donkey’s stall had swung open. Then, while Mary’s assailant had her trapped in the darkness, her faithful old donkey had sauntered over, turned his back, and kicked the woman right in the head.
Looking down at the woman groaning in the hay, Mary couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She was lucky the kick hadn’t killed her; it had gotten her right on the side of the head, judging by the frightening lump that had appeared. That could easily have been fatal. Maybe her clever little donkey knew how to conserve its strength.
Mary’s head had cleared by now, the fog lifting. It was as if seeing someone with a far worse head injury had made hers trivial by comparison. She strode purposefully over to her prone foe, planting one foot on either side of her body. The dazed woman was flat on her back, looking up at Mary.
“Are you alright?” Mary asked, sincerely but firmly.
“Uh?” Came the response.
“Are. you. alright?” Mary repeated, enunciating each word. “Can you still see?”
There was a long pause. For a moment, she worried that the kick had robbed the woman of her speech. Then…
“Yes.”
It seemed like that was all she was getting.
“You can still move your arms and legs?” Mary continued. “Are you able to understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” came the terse response. “I can move. And I understand you fully.” She wriggled her arms and legs feebly as proof.
Her speech was still slurred, but she still seemed lucid. Mary breathed a sigh of relief. She’d hate to think that the woman had been seriously injured.
“Good.” she said, and she meant it.
She lifted one foot off the ground, planting it on the prone woman’s cheek. Before she could cry out, Mary pushed her head into the hay, and down into the ground. She flailed her arms and legs feebly, but made no more attempt to escape.
“I’m staying in the stable.” Mary stated, her voice low but forceful. “You are going to go back into the inn and tell your husband that. Then you’re going to put together a hot meal and some blankets for me and my husband, understand?”
A moment passed with no reply. Mary piled on the pressure, grinding the woman’s face into the hard stone floor beneath the hay. She let out a muffled cry of pain.
“Alright,” she whimpered. “You can stay.”
A pause. Mary did not let up.
“And?” Mary prompted.
“And I’ll bring you your hot meal,” the woman whined. “And your blankets. And anything else you need.”
“Great!” Mary said, immediately releasing the pressure. “Thank you so much for your hospitality!”
Slowly, painfully, the innkeeper’s wife climbed to her feet. She never looked at Mary as she stumbled out of the stable and off in the direction of the inn.
Mary was left in the stable, alone but for the animals. She stepped up beside her wonderful, loyal, brave little donkey and ran a hand through his mane. He brayed in appreciation, and proceeded to munch on some hay.
Mary left the side of her noble steed, stepping out of the doors and into the night. She gazed up at the sky, at the unusually bright star directly above. One hand on her belly, she considered her situation; giving birth in a dingy stable, surrounded by cattle, and flies, and unpleasant smells. It didn’t seem ideal.
And yet, despite everything, Mary felt content. Her victory against Jezebel felt like a sign.
Everything was going to be alright.
