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Kelle had lived. Well, thus far and thus much. It seemed her mind had gone, and she wandered uncomprehendingly into dangers like a small child first to its feet, but she had at least not died as they had expected. Attis and Cybele had carried her between them to the hut of the Healer in a wild mid-winter storm. Jenna the Healer had pronounced it as shock, and rape. The physical injuries were minor, but the other damage seemed irreparable. The girl was mute, and responded not even to her name. They dressed her now in the cloth of a lay-villager, as she was Novice no longer. She lived with the Healer now, and many took time to spend with her, from Novice to full Priestess. There was no woman who did not feel filled with compassion for a victim of such a crime. Thomias, the old Teacher-Priest had immediately led them to the perpetrator of the crime, although Attis and Cybele had loudly protested that man's innocence. Cabirius had not confessed his guilt, but equally, he had not offered any defence. He was covered with scratches for all to see, which matched with the fact that Kelle had been found to have blood and skin underneath her sharp nails. The entire class of Novices and Thomias besides had witnessed an argument between the two earlier that day, and indeed Cabirius had even returned to the very place of his crime - the classroom - after dumping her in the forest. Cabirius had been found weeping at a desk in the class-room, where upturned furniture and stains of seed on the ground had confirmed the setting of the rape. Clearly, Thomias suggested, Cabirius had taken her to the remote clearing with the intent of finishing his deadly deed, but had been interrupted, then returned to the classroom filled with remorse. Cybele had made protest long and loud. He would have been seen returning to the village, she argued. His gown would have been wet from the rain, or at least his boots would have been muddy. He was the most gentle of men. But all of these concerns were overshadowed by two things - the physical evidence, and the fact that he claimed not his own innocence. Cybele's friend, the Priestess Ria, had taken her aside and told her gently, that we none of us truly ever know what is in the heart of another, nomatter how much we love them. Was it so obvious to all, then that they had been lovers, simply from her defence of him? Finally, Attis had convinced her that she would do him no good by further protest, and would only damage her own credibility. There were those already who asked what she was doing in the forest in the storm anyway, as though she were somehow involved in the dirty blood-hungry cult of the Crone. Cabirius had been locked in the remote hut which had been used for the 'Rebirthing' of girl-children who were brought to the Isle to become Priestesses. It had been empty for some long time now as the number who served the Temple had been allowed to decline. Cybele's earliest memory was of this hut, even though she was a full seven years of age when she first came to the Isle. Cabirius was left food regularly, and given a cloak, but had no fire and no human company. There was not even need of a guard, as there was nowhere to escape to on the Isle, and no way of escaping from it. Cabirius had little enough spirit for anything since his arrest, let alone escape, but just followed passively as he was bidden. Most thought him remorseful for his crime, that horror for his own beastliness had left him a broken shell. He spoke very little in all the interrogation, but what little he did say was considered incriminating, if not a confession. Cybele racked her mind and prayed to the Goddess for an explanation, but none came to her. Attis suggested that Cabirius had indeed coupled violently with Kelle, but with consent, but then some other event had happened afterward to clear her mind and strike her mute. Cybele believed that story even less than her own wildest idea - that a third person had done violence to both Kelle and Cabirius, and that Cabirius had lost some part of his mind as much as Kelle and so had no memory with which to offer a defence. She had bedded Cabirius more than a dozen times, she told Attis, and he had never been anything but gentle and meek. She could not imagine him in a violent coupling, even with consent. Attis disagreed, and said that he could well imagine it. She wondered from his tone if there was something he was not telling her, but then he was as unreadable as an owl, this dark lover of hers.
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