The human abbot frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Is my son a Christian?” Cartimandua repeated. 

“Why wouldn’t he be?” The abbot asked. 

She suspected Æthelwine was a Christian. The mural glorified the Christian god in a way only true believers painted. That or her son was a sell-out. 

Cartimandua found it easier to believe Æthelwine was a Christian than a sell-out.

Cartimandua glanced at the other human monk. 

“Monk,” Cartimandua said, “Leave us.”

“Brother Hywel must stay,” the abbot said. “Men do not stay alone with women.”

Cartimandua resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It would do no good to show her annoyance. It could and would be used against her. She knew the abbot was a woman. It was so easy to tell. Besides, Æthelwine had once told her on one of their yearly dinners that the abbot had gone away for a few months and returned fat, a eunuch, terrified of demons and weepy around babies. Cartimandua was aware of the demons’ breeding attempts with humans. A passing demon bragged to her about Its attempt at creating a demon-human hybrid. Something Cartimandua found highly laughable. The demon did not find it funny when Cartimandua laughed in Its face. It told her that the breeding worked–It had kidnapped a local abbot, transformed him into a woman and bred him. 

“Where is this demon child, then?” Cartimandua had asked as she sipped her wine. 

“It died.”

“Do they always die?”

“Oh shut up, you fucking bitch.”

Cartimandua had slammed the demon down with her distaff and It flew away. It was a rare time when Cartimandua enacted violence against a demon or a demon insulted an elf. Elves and demons had an uneasy alliance. They rarely attacked each other and when they did, it was quick and short, nothing more than a bit of bruised pride to remind the other not to go farther. Mostly they left each other alone. The collateral damage from a war between the two peoples wasn’t worth the hassle when humans were much easier targets. Due to this, they did pass on information to each other when needed. 

Cartimandua thought such transformations were against Woden and obscene against the vastly superior female form, but if more human men were women then what did she care? As long as it didn’t happen to any of her human slaves, the demons could do whatever they wanted to the human males. 

She hated all humans. At the end of the day she preferred human women to human men. Human males were violent, irrational beasts, enthralled to their hysterical emotions. Every time you insulted one of their manhoods, they threw a temper tantrum and tried to prove they were indeed real men. They were always starting wars. Cartimandua thought all humans were stupid, but female humans were slightly more stupid than female elves as they had allowed their males to behave like uncontrollable beasts. Human males were the same as dogs, in Cartimandua’s opinion. They certainly acted like it around her people. Worse than dogs in some cases. Her dogs obeyed the word “no” on command. 

“I’m sure they don’t,” Cartimandua said smoothly. “Leave us, monk, or I leave.”

Brother Hywel looked at Abbot Gunter, waiting for his orders. 

The abbot pressed his lips together. He clearly didn’t want to be bossed around by an elf. Yet, he clearly wanted the ultramarine more than his dignity.

“Go outside, Brother Hywel.” 

Cartimandua took joy in the defeat in the abbot’s voice. The monk left, taking the bindings with him. 

As soon as he was gone, the abbot looked at Cartimandua for a long time. She could wait. It never did good to speak first in a negotiation. 

“How do you know?” He asked eventually. 

She made a point of saying nothing and looking him up and down. He blushed. Anger and humiliation emitted off of him like heat. 

“Is he a Christian?” Cartimandua repeated. “Mother to mother, has my son given up the old gods?”

“Of course he has!” The abbot snapped. “He’s a bloody monk! Brother Hywel has given up his gods and so has Brother Æthelwine! And I am not a mother!”

“You aren’t a mother to your monks?” Cartimandua asked in mocking innocence. She loved toying with humans. It was one thing elves and demons could agree upon. 

“I know what you are doing,” the abbot pointed an accusing finger at her. “I am not a mother.”

“Not anymore?” She mocked. 

The abbot was considering whether or not he really wanted the ultramarine. If he decided the torment wasn’t worth it, then Cartimandua wouldn’t be able to have any more fun. 

“It happens to the best of us,” she said in a tone of genuine remorse, though she didn’t feel particularly sorry at all. She had never lost a child–besides Æthelwine and that hardly counted. The abbot stared at her. 

“Your slaves must be tired,” he said eventually. “It’s late. I will send Brother Hywel to the chamberlain to prepare the guesthouse for you and your company before I take you on a tour of the monastery tomorrow.” 

“That would be best, yes. I don’t want them dropping dead from exhaustion.”

“I assume that happens often?”

“Extremely.”

The abbot gave her a skeptical look and left his cell. Cartimandua glanced around at the murals once more before following him.

They truly were beautiful. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I could not come up with a more dated term than “sell-out” that had the same connotations, so please pardon the modern terminology.