Agnus Dei

Note: For a long time I thought, I wouldn't write an incest story. As you see, now I ended up writing one after all. Since this isn't a category I usually write for, it might not be a "typical" incest story. First of all, the emphasis of my story is not on the sex, for me, eroticism lies also in imagining the situation that leads to sex, the consequences, the way the characters think and feel - so if you are mainly looking for a hot story with a lot of sex, this might not be the right one for you.

There are religious references in the title of this story and also in the story itself - it is not my intension to offend anyone with them, and should I have done so, I apologize.

I hope you enjoy the story, and of course comments and ideas are always appreciated.

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Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis...

I feel a tiny smile play around my lips, for just a moment, before I regain composure and force my face back into the seriousness that suits the situation, my situation. I think I manage in time -- no one has seen me smile, and my eyes look closed, though they are opened just the tiniest bit so I can see the white shimmer of my hands.

I like the Agnus Dei, I have liked it since I was a little girl. It reminds me of how Robert told me it was about me when I was not old enough to understand anything yet. Once, for example, he was holding my hand as we walked by a church where they were singing, Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis. He said "Psht, listen Agnes, they are singing about you."

Later, when he was a bit older, he didn't say that anymore, and then I too already knew what they were singing; but I remember. Maybe I shouldn't. It's probably blasphemous or at the very least silly, but I can't help thinking back to that day, and how he held my hand tightly in his, and how he smiled at me and said, "They're singing about you." I can't help smiling just a little bit when I think of that. And I always think of it when I am in church and praying, when I should have a serious expression and my eyes closed, and it always makes me smile and open my eyes a little bit to look at my hands.

My hands are pale now, as I never really go outside, and they are pressed flat against each other. They look small and white against the dark fabric of my clothes. I always liked looking at my hands. They are fine, and while they are small, the fingers are still quite long - they look almost a bit like the hands of a noblewoman I think, but then, that's not something I should think about. But my hands have always been the one thing about me I really liked. They looked so small in his bigger, darker hands. They disappeared into them when we walked along the street past that church, so many years ago. When I think of him, I always have to look at my hands.

I shouldn't think of him though, and even more, I shouldn't open my eyes - it's safer to have them closed, I keep forgetting that. And when I have to get up and walk to the front of the church, I should keep my eyes on my feet, it's not good to look around.

Like back then, last year -- is it really just a year ago? I believe it is, to the day -- when I looked up, and I saw him sitting there with Father and the other boys, and he looked over to our side, and for a moment his eyes met mine, and I wanted to smile, but his eyes had already gone on, and they were looking at Katharina. I saw her look back at him for just a moment, before she blushed and looked at the ground, and then I looked at him again, and he was smiling for her. His smile was different from any of the smiles he ever smiled for me, and I felt a wave pain surging up somewhere inside me. 'He's going to ask for her hand soon,' I thought, and the pain increased. I looked back at my hands. They were still small but with fine, long fingers, pressed against each other. They were shaking a bit.

I had to get up then for holy communion, and my legs were also shaking. I wasn't sure I could make it without fainting. 'Maybe it's the heat,' I thought. It was so hot that summer, the heat lingered even inside the thick walls of our church, and I was sweating in my summer dress. I could feel little drops of sweat loosen from under my arms and run down along the sides of my body as I got up to go to the front for the holy eucharist with Mother and my little sisters. I had my eyes open then, but the darkness inside the church and the people gathered in the front and the preacher and the cup he was holding, all started to blur a bit in front my eyes. I was sure I was going to faint, but I didn't. Instead, I remembered my brother's smile, and Katharina's blush, and that he was going to ask for her hand soon, and it all felt like a little pang in my heart.

'Maybe it's because she is younger than I am,' I thought.

I had already finished my eighteenth year the winter before, and no one seemed to think of asking for my hand. None of the boys from the village ever looked at me like that. I suppose I am not all that pretty. I don't have wavy black hair and creamy skin and a curvy body like Katharina. I am small and skinny, I have freckles everywhere, and my hair gets a bright red colour under the summer sun, though Mother used to always wash it with special herbs and roots to make it look a bit darker.

Robert said I am pretty, though. When I was little, he told me I looked like a princess -- even though I don't at all, except that my hands are much finer than is common for a peasant girl and my skin might be white enough. It always gets burned when I am outside too much.

But that was when I was outside too much, that is, because these days I am never really outside anymore.

Back then, I was always outside. A year ago, the summer was at least as hot as this one, hotter I would say, and everyone would have liked to just hide inside their houses, but you have to work if you want to live and a good Christian isn't afraid of working, even if the sun is shining as mercilessly as it was that summer.

***

I walked along the little path by the forest at noon every day. I had done so every day during the weeks before the day I almost fainted in church, and I did so in the days afterwards -- this particular day was probably just a few days after that Sunday when he had smiled at Katharina in church, and Katharina blushed and hid her face, but had that glimmer in her eye that betrayed her blush to be nothing but a game of coquetry.

The sun was burning parts of my arms and legs my dress didn't cover and the sand felt like glowing coals under my bare feet. I still liked the feeling though, and I liked the smell of hot sand under the sun, mixed with a few dry pine needles that fell off the trees due to the heat. I was walking quickly -- every now and then the shade of tall trees covered the path, and I jumped from one shady part to the next, where I slowed down in the illusion that it was a bit cooler, enjoying the relief for my skin.

It was warm under my headscarf, so I took it off and shook my hair free in the air. There was a slight breeze for just a moment; it felt nice to have a little bit of wind play with my hair. It felt daring to do so, to bare my head, but no one was around to see me and I kept walking and looking down at my dusty feet and the brightness of the sand. My hand carrying the little bundle of food for Robert caught my eye, and for a moment I enjoyed the way my hand looked against the blue colour of the fabric the food was wrapped in, and then I walked faster, realising he must be hungry, he must be waiting for me.

The thought of him waiting for me made my heart skip just a little bit, and I started running, even though little stones on the ground cut into my feet - my dirty feet - but I couldn't wait to be there, to have that half hour I got with him every day when he took a break from his work in the forest, and ate, and smiled at me. My little princess -- no, he hadn't said that for years, but still, for that half hour he was mine, only mine, and there was no Katharina or anyone around for him to smile at, all his smiles were only for me.

Our oat field was a tiny stretch near the forest, far away from the house. We didn't own much land near the village, and so we had to walk quite a distance to it every day in summer. Robert worked there alone since Father had become so sick, and at lunchtime, I walked there, to bring him something to eat. I could always see him from far away, working hard in the field, sweating under the sun. At some point he would look up and see me, and wave at me with one hand, and I would start running, even though that is not something a girl my age should do, run happily and fast, glad to feel my legs under me, impatient to be with him already.

But the field was empty that day. When I went closer, I could see his things on the ground - the materials, scythes and everything. The donkey was tied to a tree, and the cart was standing there too, but Robert wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Robert! Robert!" I shouted his name, but the heat seemed to swallow the sound as soon as it left my mouth. The forest was dark and menacing suddenly, and the crickets seemed to overshadow any sound. My heart was beating wildly, and I remember feeling cold, despite the heat. This wasn't right, where was he?

***

I remember shivering under the sun, just as I shiver now, every day, under the cold weight of the walls of this church. The robes I have to wear are thick and heavy; they hide my body, but for some reason they don't warm it. I am always cold now, even though the summer is as warm as it was last year. And that day, when I was standing by our field under the hot sun, I felt so cold, as if this place I am at now -- the place I plan to stay at for the rest of my life -- was already reaching out to me, clasping my heart with cold claws. Maybe I guessed at that very moment what the future would hold for me.

I felt a strong urge to turn around and run home. I couldn't understand my own fear -- it was normal for him to take breaks every now and then. You had to, under the burning sun, if you didn't want the heat to kill you. Probably he had just taken a walk into the forest.

I pressed the little package with his lunch close to my chest, inhaling the earthy and reassuring smell of the potatos, bread and cheese that Mother had wrapped in it, and carefully, slowly stepped into the cool shade of the forest.

I felt goosebumps form on my skin, my fear was not over yet, but with every step away from the sun into the green, into the sound of bird song and smell of leaves, I felt more sure of myself. He'd be somewhere nearby, I told myself.

The forest is beautiful in summer, I like the forest. It's one of the few places that offer protection from the heat and the dust that settles on everything in summer. The ground there is sandy too, of course, most of the ground is sand here, but grass and little plants hold it in its place, and it smells of berries and pine needles and leaves.

Somewhere in there was the sound of water and my feet led me there almost against my will. In between the trees, I could see a little creek winding its way through the forest. Clear water rushing over mossy stones, clean and innocent. For a moment, I was overwhelmed by the wish to kneel down beside the water. I wanted to scoop up some of that fresh wetness with my hands, wanted to feel its sweet taste in my mouth. I hadn't had a drink all day, I had been helping Mother in the garden and with the animals - watering plants, carrying buckets of water for the sheep and pigs to drink, and forgetting to drink anything myself. That's what our life is like.

The sound of someone moving in the water distracted me from my musings. I looked up, and a little further down the creek I saw him. Robert.

The water was deeper there. It reached up to his waist. Little specks of light were shining into the forest, through the trees, and reflected on the water. The reflections, again, seemed to play on his tanned skin. He was surrounded by green light. The high trees reminded me of a church, a chapel so different to this one I am sitting in right now, a place of light rather than darkness. His blond hair was the brightest spot in the whole forest, brighter even than the pearls of water running down along his skin, as he scooped up big hands full of water from the creek and washed his upper body. His muscles, trained from years of working in the fields, were visible with every movement.

I had seen him wash hundreds of times, since we were children. We had a little well behind our house, and he always cleaned himself there when he returned from a hard day of work, and sometimes I would come to get some water Mother needed for cooking dinner, and he would spray some water at me and grin when I shrieked and jumped away, losing the scarf I wrapped around my hair.

I had seen him wash hundreds of times, but something was different this time. Maybe it was the fact that none of our younger brothers and sisters were around, shouting and playing and demanding my attention. Maybe it was the fact that we weren't in the dusty field behind our house, where everything smelled of animals and the sweat of a hard day's work, but in this chapel of luscious green, filled with the chant of birds and rushing water breaking against stones. Seeing him there felt like an intrusion, like I was laying my eyes on something mysterious and sacred. I wondered if I was even supposed to be there, to see him, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.

I don't know how long I stood there, watching him. It was all different, like even Robert was a different person. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that this time he wasn't wearing his trousers, as he would when washing his face and upper body in the evenings.

Robert leaned down, and scooped up more water with his hands. Straightening up, he lifted them over his face, which now was turned upwards to the green roof of treetops above him, and he let the water splash down on him like a rain of sparkling light and green reflections.

Something in me couldn't wait for him to step out of the water. That same something kept me from turning my eyes away, or from showing myself. I stayed half-hidden behind a tree, my eyes transfixed on his smooth skin, darkened by daily work under the sun. As far away as I was, I could still make out little drops of water glistening as they ran down the muscles of his arms and chest. Somewhere in my fingers, awoke the urge to touch his skin. I felt a strange tickle in me, in my stomach, everywhere. A longing for this moment to never pass, to be able to watch him forever. And, at the same time, the wish to be discovered.

Then Robert stepped forward, towards the shore, and with every step he took, the water touched less of his body. It fled downward along the smooth surface of his skin, back to the river. I held my breath, then realized that my heart was beating wildly. With another step, the surface of the water was below his waist, and I forced myself to avert my eyes. My face felt hotter than it had when I had been walking under the bright sun.

"Agnes!"

Robert's voice filled the forest. He hadn't spoken loudly; his voice was soft and warm, yet there was something in it that made it impossible to not hear or even pretend I hadn't heard.

"Why are you hiding your face? Look at me, there is nothing to be ashamed of."

I looked up, and he was still standing there, the water above his knees, his skin a strange creamy colour from the reflections of the water and the sun shining softly through the green above him. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't look angry either. He looked like everything was as it was supposed to be.

"Did you think I didn't know you were there? Come closer."

Slowly I stepped forward, letting the space grow between me and the comforting tree trunk I had been standing behind. For some reason, coming out of hiding and being in full view of my brother made me feel exposed, as if it was me who was naked, not him. My face was still turned to the ground, but my eyes escaped the control I wanted to have over them and wandered back to Robert, studying every bit of his body until they reached his face. He started smiling at me then, his teeth shining white from between his lips.

"Why don't you come into the water? You must be warm, Agnes, after walking all the way here from home."

I walked until I reached the edge of the water.

Robert watched me with a smile. He did not seem to mind at all that I saw him naked. The way he stood there, it seemed to be the most normal thing in the world to him.

I gathered up my skirt, and held it with my hands, so it wouldn't get wet when I stepped forward into the creek. The water was cool against my feet; it sent a slight tickling feeling throughout my body, and for a second I wanted to jump back out, but I stayed where I was.

Robert took another step toward me. His hand touched my face, which was still turned towards the ground. He lifted my face, looking right into my eyes. The water stopped feeling cold at my feet; a strange warmth swept through my body.

"You should take your clothes off, it's much more fun to swim without them," he said softly.

I felt myself blush.

"There is no need to be ashamed, Agnes. I am your brother. Don't you remember anymore how we used to swim together in the river and the lake?"

I remembered. How could I forget? Back when life somehow had been much easier, when Father had been in full health and we were little and had not needed to help at home more than a few hours every day, our main job had been to guard the cows and sheep as they went grazing in the forest. That had been easy work. Usually the animals wanted to be near the water, to drink at some point, and Robert and I used to play in the water all day, checking only every now and then whether any of them had strayed. Now though, we had hardly any cows left. Oh, how I wished for those days back - days long before there was any Katharina that Robert would smile at in church.

At that moment though, Robert was smiling at me, and somewhere in his smile I believed I still saw the little boy, my older brother, the best friend of my childhood. I turned back to the shore and started opening the knot of my apron.

I could feel Robert's eyes on me the whole time I undressed. It made me clumsy and I almost fell as I stepped out of my skirt. It hadn't been like that back in the old days. Everything was natural back then. As young children, we wore only small shirts and maybe a skirt or shorts, and we had always dropped them in a matter of seconds before we jumped into the water -- without as much as a look at each other. There was something quite different in the air now, a strange tension.

Robert kept watching me.

With my apron and my skirt off, I was fumbling with the buttons of my blouse. Somehow, it was harder to open than usual. Robert didn't say a word, or even move. Something in his expression seemed almost hungry as he took in the parts of my skin that weren't covered anymore, but I didn't think much about it. In fact, I wasn't thinking at all, there was still that strange feeling in my stomach, and my head felt dizzy.

When I was naked, standing insecurely by the shore, Robert smiled.

"Aren't you coming into the water now?"

I did, and my feet touched the cold wetness of the river again. The water once again sent a cold tingle up my skin. Like ice, cutting through my body, but refreshing, at the same time, in the hot summer air. My head cleared a bit. I felt Robert's eyes still on me, burning into me with their stare. My hands automatically went up to my breasts, trying to cover myself.

This wasn't something a woman was supposed to do, bathing naked, much less in the presence of a man, even if he was her brother. Before I could think about this any further, Robert's gaze finally turned away from me, and my brother ran deeper into the water. He threw himself forward and started swimming a few strokes.