A long-term Blackstone resident relates her tale

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Disclaimer:

The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.

It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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The advice I received from a neighbour about growing up, and getting married, was somewhat startling as you will soon read. I have spent bells talking with her, as she seems so different. I often wondered that maybe that’s because she came to us from somewhere near Teldor.

The following is her story in, as far as is possible for a young and untrained girl like myself, her own words - some of which, I should warn you, are rarely used or are local dialect words; like, for instance, kiffen which has the plural form kiffenis. This is a funny little biting thing, smaller than a fikt, and very difficult to see, which leaps prodigious distances considering its size. Where I feel that some word may not be obvious, I have provided a more widely used alternative in the hope of being able to clarify.

So, with no further ado, here is her story … … ...

Some men are like kiffenis. They leap all over you, jab you enthusiastically a few times, then crawl off, leaving you irritable, itchy and swelling in all directions.

I’ve swelled regularly since my marriage to Willen and have four youngsters to show for it. There should have been a hand of them, but something went wrong with the middle pregnancy, quite early on. I didn’t suffer much but it could not have happened at a worse moment. Willen had arranged for his cronies, all of whom think they are the best crossbowmen in all of Anmar entirely, to come and eat their dinner at our house. Being so considerate, he only informed me the evening before and got all snotty when I reminded him that he was the food provider here. When he eventually remembered his responsibilities, the vikhan, which needs a good few bells to prepare and cook, arrived allowing me less than a bell spare. I asked him why the animal smelled so strongly of the ale-house and he got all huffy and stormed off. What with honey cakes, and pastries to make, and the vikhan to get ready for the table, I was very busy indeed, and still controlling a seven year-old daughter and a three year-old son. The food was finally ready, pel prepared and the children sent to the bedroom when the gang of four and their doughty leader began to arrive. He came last and ushered his merry men in before he himself deigned to enter. He eventually came in (strangely, he too was smelling of ale) and I picked up the heavy and hot platter of meat and juices. What I didn’t know was that the moron-in-chief had decided to drop his crossbow on the floor rather than use the small furniture we had for that purpose. He then compounded his folly by discarding his cloak over the top of it.

It really doesn’t take much to make men queasy, at least as far as the female side of things is concerned, and the facts of life. The farmers around here will spend bells mucking around in dung or peering knowingly up the backsides of constipated animals, but as soon as a baby spits up a mouthful of milk, they clear off, looking offended. Willen had this down to a fine art, and usually managed to slope off somewhere just as soon as the young ones were too much in evidence. This time, after I tripped over the wretched obstacle, dropped the platter and screamed just a little (well a lot, actually), my body decided to rid itself of an encumbrance. And my second son’s evacuation of my body was only marginally faster than the evacuation of the four grown men from our hut, closely followed by their intrepid leader.

Yes, it was left to me to tidy everything – or at least to arrange everything, and only do some of the tidying up. I screamed for Briselda to come to me, and then I explained to the terrified seven year-old to run next door to get Grizanthet. I say next door, but our hut was nearly a mark from the town then, on the other side of the Bray and old Griz was a little nearer to town than she was to us, just below the house of the scribe, whose wife was off visiting relatives living a bit downstream of Haligo. So I knew that Brizzy would take a while to do her bit, particularly as it involved crossing the stream; meaning that I had to crawl through the ruins of our dinner to get some cloths. Looking back on that evening, I’m glad that Termerik didn’t realise that he was totally unsupervised at the age of three. Now THAT would have been a disaster, the scrapes that one used to get into.

It was two or so evenings later that I finally fully realised time spent with me was at a minimum, and Willen doled out so little affection that it was indistinguishable. He had become so uppish, distant and calculating that I realised he even screwed according to some private timetable, the calculation of which was impossible for me, a ‘mere’ female. And as regards the event itself, everything was so brief and to the point that not even the smallest sanddropper could take a measurement of the time that passed.

A year later, I did still manage to give birth to a second son, and three years later to a second daughter, but after that I lived in fear of getting pregnant again. I certainly could not have managed. But I knew I did still like the act, or whatever I could remember of it.

The last time, I said to him: “I hadn’t realised that it was a race”. He didn’t reply, just rolled over, taking most of the coverings with him and started snoring about 30 breaths later. Willen did not have much of a sense of humour.

Gramobona, however, does have a sense of humour. She lived very near Griz at that time, but she was of such a weight, that I doubt a ptuvil could have carried her aloft. Quite how she got her nickname, I have never discovered – maybe a joke from way back, but she was referred to by all as Gramma Bone. Certainly there is, with the exception of her nose, not a bone visible in her form. And she has never had children, so I couldn’t work out why she might be a grandmother. But her wry observations and often unbridled comments were a breath of fresh air. She was just about the only one to openly mock when Trogan imposed his restrictive regime, but she has always had a most acerbic wit. It took some getting used to when I was beset by everyone upon my arrival in the village as Willen’s wife, but I think really it was a major factor in my survival as a person.

For the circumstances, under which I now found myself, all combined to dehumanise a person.

I had been born in a house on the outskirts of Teldor, my father working for a wagon company. He had brought back my mother from a trip down south, all the way to Forguland. She was an orphaned niece of the assistant to the Master of the Ducal Household there, and as a result had learnt her letters and numbers. She and her Uncle were pleased when her hand was sought after by a dynamic Wagon Master, since she was a bit of a drain upon the resources of her family and relationships were occasionally strained. He bought her back to Teldor, settled her in, and even arranged for her to meet new people to make her life more pleasant, having been uprooted so rudely. He then set out to win her heart thoroughly and succeeded before the six month time limit given by her family was reached, and either the chaperone and she must return, or the chaperone could be dismissed. I was born some seven months after the official wedding in Teldor.

Mama set up a small home and spent a great deal of effort making it somewhere that Father would be pleased to return to whether after a long trip or just a day in the warehouse. Our family was one of affection and our home one of mostly laughter. We would play games together, either using dice or cards, which was a good way to absorb information about counting and numbers. I had started to learn my letters from Mama and to help with the women’s work, when my young brother was born. This led a few months later to Mama giving me ‘The Talk’, most of which I found quite distasteful. I was a late developer, just about the last of my age group, so it was a full two years later that the entire messy business started and I discovered in fact rather than theory that Kalikan had a far deeper meaning than just a bright light in the sky.

I was taking a walk one day, with two, or maybe three, girlfriends; just a few light commissions I remember, when a group of young men came in the opposite direction. The taller one, the one with those most noticeable eyes, caused very strange roilings in my tummy. Now I am so much older and have observed such situations from a bystander’s point of view, I am aware that the sudden giggling fit that descended upon us girls did not actually divert the boys’ attention, it served merely to make them focus upon us. We thought we were being so cool and aloof as we pretended to ignore them. After we had passed, none of us, neither boys nor girls, could resist a backward glance.

It will come, of course, as a complete surprise to you that we were examining wares at the market when we accidentally bumped into the same group of boys.

At the end of that afternoon, as we rushed, giggling inanely, to get home before we got into trouble, we were all marvelling at how wonderful these boys were. We had seemed to pair off so naturally and we soon knew their names, as they learnt ours. Jigan was the most wonderful-sounding name ever invented. They came from up-valley and had promised to return for the Harvest Festival.

Oh my dear, it would make you blush to know how my dreams developed over those intervening months. HE was the most handsome and brave noble who was going to arrive in a carriage and whisk me off to his castle. His broad, manly chest would be a protection for me as much as his strong, long arms. His feet were quite large too, and that brought a blush to my cheeks as I recalled what elder girls had told us about the correlation of that part of a boy’s anatomy to another part situated somewhat higher!

Harvest Festival rolled around, and none of us girls would admit to being excited about it, and yet none of us had ever taken so much time and care about our appearance. Naturally, we could not appear at all eager, you understand, and yet we were there at the rendezvous a good twenty moments earlier than arranged and spotted the boys doing the same thing, but on another street corner. Well, MOST of the boys were there. Jigan was conspicuous by his absence. The girls, naturally, insisted that my ugliness had driven him away and I was quivering over breaking down and crying publicly.

At that moment, the boys caught sight of us and came over hurriedly in a grinny, sheepish, and yet swaggery way. For some reason, they found it necessary to punch each other’s arms and gabble to each other as they approached; and then they reached us and became immediately tongue-tied. It was Seetha who broke the ice by asking Kayern where Jigan was.

“Oh, he’s gone to Dekarran. His father’s brother’s wife’s cousin got him a job working in the castle there. He won’t be home for a long while yet.”

At that, the boys all turned and waved another boy over, who had been standing scowling back on ‘their’ street corner. I was too distracted to take much notice but – to cut a VERY long story short – Willen became my husband some three years later.

Although girls come a distant second to boys in the ‘Monumentally Stupid’ races, they do still take part. And yes, it WAS monumentally stupid of me to marry Willen. I can find all sorts of excuses as to why it was right at the time, but – deep down and fundamentally – it was wrong.

In the intervening years, we had moved upstream to Haligo, due to a minor promotion for Father. His greater responsibilities meant that he was more at home rather than travelling, and thus spent more time with his wife and children. We all found Haligo strange at first, it being a town which had some nicer parts but was overall, to me, anxiety-inducing, living always in such a cramped space between what seemed to be towering cliff walls. One advantage of this (or so my thinking went at that time) was that it was nearer to Willen’s part of the world, which was Tranidor, or so he said. Father also felt hemmed-in and found another, more pleasant, house some two or three marks north of Haligo. Even nearer Tranidor!

Mama was certainly put out by two major moves in a year, and retrospectively I now recognise the increasing fatigue that had set in. We all put it down to the stress of the arrangements she made and the things she needed to control to make Father’s transfer a smooth operation. And then to have to do it all again when we moved further away from those brooding cliffs! But that new house was definitely so much better despite being an awkward distance from the amenities. Mama’s mood lightened noticeably and we all realised how few smiles we had enjoyed recently.

She and I, known well of course by the wagoneers, would travel to Tranidor on the frequent wagons passing up and down that route. We went every eight weeks or so out of the rains, our favourite roadhouse being the one at Toomer’s Gulley, although the four or more marks it took to pass Holville and all its effects were always a grave trial. A colleague of Father’s had been promoted which involved a transfer to Tranidor, and the two wives were great friends, so Mama and I had somewhere to stay for our week-long sojourns there. It was a pleasant break for us to escape the humdrum of everyday and to see other parts of this bustling valley. I had sent notes to Willen using the messenger service to let him know when we were going to take a trip, and, with only one exception, he managed to meet us. Mama was not certain about him, but now I look back on it, was pleased that I had a reason not to hang about with the youngsters in Haligo.

It was on one of these trips that Mama suddenly announced she had to sit down.

She started coughing. This was a different cough than any I had heard before, even those awful ones brought on by passing Holville.

And suddenly there was blood on her lips.

She faded fast after that. I sent a message with one of the wagons and Father and Subrish, my brother, appeared three days later; just in time to see her, speak with her and hold her as she slipped away from us.

And that’s when I made a very, very silly decision.

Father explained that there had been an opportunity for betterment that he had turned down as it involved yet another move and he didn’t want to wear out Mama with all that again. Going all the way to Brikant would have been too much for her, he felt, even if it meant she would be that much nearer her relatives. But now, it might make sense to change, to help get over the shock. He was sure that he could find Subrish work but it was I that might make things awkward.

“No problem, Father. It is near time I left for my own life now anyways, I shall simply marry Willen.”

… … …

And so it transpired two months later. We went back down after the pyre, I having sent Willen a note, and we packed up our sad little house. Father and Subrish sent all the belongings to a warehouse in Haligo and then we returned to Tranidor. If Willen had rejected me, then maybe there would have been a whole different outcome as I was sure that I could not stand just being a domestic drudge for the men of my family. I was at that precise moment in my existence when I wanted and needed a life for myself.

He didn’t reject me, and we were married from Mama’s friend’s house.

Father had arranged a small house for us near the Bray bridge, and we spent the first week or so of our married life there. Much fumbling and many false starts later, we had discovered what worked for us, and our love-making sessions made me certain I was deeply in love with my man. We didn’t eat too much during those days I know – but Mama’s friend visited every afternoon, Willen left to do whatever it was that Willen did, and I was taught the rudiments of cooking and housekeeping. Father and Subrish came round to eat the first dinner I had ever prepared on my own and then we had a tearful (on my part) farewell. None of us knew that we would never meet all three together again.

Willem had been almost smiley for a few days, but as it grew near time to vacate our little nest, he became more and more remote. I had heard that the common folk say that a marriage is like a full passing of Kalikan, from new moon to the next. It starts out early, growing sweet like honey (or that knobbly orange root we dig up called vayter) then reaches its peak and wanes. Like many jokes that have their base in reality, that first happy period is therefore called the vayterkan, ‘the sweet month’ - supposedly, that cycle is then repeated.

It seemed to me that my vayterkan should have been named after Annis rather than Kalikan; vayternis. Scarcely a week had passed and it was already waning.

And it never reappeared.

I knew of course that Willen was a skilled huntsman and that that was how he earned a living, but I knew very little about his family or his home. I assumed that he lived a mark or two above Tranidor, just as we had lived a mark or two above Haligo. This was merely one of the first assumptions that I had made that was to be shattered early on.

Our day of departure wasn’t too bad and nearly went as I had planned. I packed my meagre belongings in some cheap boxes, I handed over the remnants of our foodstuffs to Mama’s friend, took a tearful farewell from her, and waited for Willen to return, which he eventually did, riding a young but nevertheless worn-looking frayen and accompanied by a nearly fully laden dranakh-drawn wagon, which my experienced eye told me was one of the slightly smaller types, usually used for carrying goods from the wharves at Haligo to the warehouses for redistribution from there. The wagoneer’s chair was a single seat perched almost as an afterthought on the front of the load-carrying ‘belly’, as wagoneers call the deepish well where the goods are stacked. Even though they were so few, my boxes nearly filled the remaining space. Willen made me repack it whilst the unsmiling and, as it proved, mostly uncommunicative wagoneer just looked on.

“Why does there have to be this empty space here, Willen? And why is it so comparatively large?”

“You have to get that big arse of yours in there. Unless you fancy walking?”

“How far is it? I can walk two or three marks,” I managed to respond through my shock.

“It’s a good few paces more than that!” was the reply which produced something between a snort and a harrumph from Jafferkin, not that I knew his name at that stage of the proceedings. It took me a long while to eventually find out his name, and then it was only because I overheard Willen using it. I think it was only because I knew to let his dranakh take my arm in her mouth, that I received a very begrudged form of respect. In fact, I knew the dranakh’s name (Jeen) quite a while before I knew her driver’s.

Willen clambered aboard Nelke and Jafferkin urged Jeen into motion. A few moments of tangled streets and alleys and we were suddenly at the Bray bridge. Jafferkin grunted at the guards who waved us by, we crossed and then turned left, heading north. From my position at the trailing edge of the wagon, my view was of the road we had already travelled along. Any view ahead was most awkward in the extreme. But at least I could jump down and walk occasionally, just to relieve the numbness in my bum.

Poor Jeen was no longer in the first flush of youth, but she was not exactly old yet; she seemed to me to preserve her strength and stamina whenever she could. Some of the not-so-many other wagons cursed us for slowing them down. I didn’t see the problem, the road wasn’t that busy and it only took some little time to pass us, I doubt ever more than a hand of moments. On only one occasion did a wagon descending towards us have to stop and pull over until we two side-to-side wagons had passed.

I called for a break as we approached one roadhouse and caught the look each man gave the other. Willen then increased pace and disappeared into the forest whilst Jeen hauled us the couple of hundred strides to the comparatively small roadhouse. I was glad to use the facilities and came out to see Jafferkin talking to one of the staff. It was quite surprising to actually see him converse. I was offered, and accepted, some pel before Jafferkin came and hoiked his thumb in my direction, to indicate it was time to continue. I offered to pay, but the girl told me it was covered.

And so we journeyed on, Willen occasionally dropping back to converse desultorily, but then slipping away into the forest as we approached a resthouse. I tried to ask him what was happening, but was given an early version of what I would later dub ‘The Glare’.

My buoyant mood of earlier was slipping away with every pace we took.

I soon learnt not to ask how much further we would be going. For the first time in my life, we carried on after the sun had left the world, sinking not so slowly behind the mountain ridge off to the west. The evening stayed bright though but even that had darkened into night, it must have been nigh on another full bell, by the time we eventually pulled into a roadhouse. Willen had not slipped away this time, but stayed with us.

We entered, had an adequate meal and then I was surprised to be ushered up to the women’s quarters by one of the serving girls, leaving Willen and Jafferkin with tankards of ale in front of them. The girl helped me prepare for bed, explaining that we had arrived much later than we had been expected, and that she would come and fetch me in the morning, but she was far too busy to chat right now. I couldn’t go back down to the common room in my nightdress, so I was stuck.

And that was it.

No night spent with my husband, for the first time since we married. No goodnight kiss, no cuddle, no feeling of strong arms surrounding and protecting me. No knowledge of where I was, nor of where I was going, nor of what secret my husband had that he must avoid busy places on the road.

I was far too busy crying to sleep much that night.

And so it continued for the rest of the journey. Another overnight, and another more than half day’s journey through the seemingly interminable forest, breaking out of that into a dull and dreary overcast day. We continued for some marks (which felt like about a hundred) until the tiniest town I had ever imagined surrounded me. I stood up and looked around me, my gaze sweeping through a complete circle.

How to describe it?

I suppose that the best way is to base it on the rushing river we had been following at varying distances since we left Tranidor. This river, called the Bray, had grown steadily more stream-like and less rushing the further north we travelled, and it was here that was the birthplace of it, where its valley head was a bit like a bowl. The general direction of travel of the stream was from north to south, so obviously there was a slope, not too steep, from north to south, although the valley walls were much steeper, cut here and there by canyons, mostly very narrow.

The town/village we had reached was to the east of the watercourse, and above it. The northern end of the town/village was almost, but not quite, butting up against the steeper slope there. That northern end was the highest point of the town itself with a strange-looking squat windowless building.

But there was another slope too, this one dropping from east to west. To the right as we had approached, in other words to the east, a wider than usual canyon entrance appeared, from which another stream emerged to join the Bray near a stone bridge, situated at the foot of the town. There was some higher ground than the buildings off to the east where the canyon mouth was, but that was well off to the left of the bridge, as I now looked at it, which had carried the straight road across the side stream. The road had entered between the strangely clustered buildings, had carried on towards the strange building at the top … and simply stopped there, at a flattish widish roundish area upon which there were two wagons parked; which we joined.

Jafferkin had set the brakes on the wagon and had unhitched Jeen, who turned her head to look at me, bleated and then wandered slowly off across the slope to the south-east towards the canyon from which that other stream emerged.

“Are you going to stand there and gawp all day, woman? Start unloading all that stuff of yours.”

Such was my welcome to Blackstone from my husband.

I won’t bore you with all the trivia but basically for the next ten years at least, everything was my fault. The weather, the late growth of the crops, the early growth of the crops, the demand for the animals he hunted, whether high or low, the lack or plenitude of the dust in our hut, the speed with which things were cleaned, the sudden disappearance of his favourite shirt (which I had put away in the shirt drawer) and so it went on. On several occasions I was to blame for the late start of the rains, or the early start of them, take your pick. As for the mornings after a ‘session’ in the Bell Inn, his headache and queasiness were my fault too.

And then there was my mother-in-law.

I fully understood the dread Willen must have felt at having to return to be near her. No person has actually survived a close encounter with a ptuvil, but folks say that it can breathe fire. Hah, that’s nothing compared to her. Jeberset was a one-woman army with a look that could freeze you and a tongue that could flay you. And I was a foreigner! I had not been introduced before her son had dared to do something by himself. A crime so heinous that I could and would never ever receive her forgiveness.

My housekeeping skills were below the standard that she expected, as was made plain on the many unannounced inspection visits she made to our hut. She made no motion to help with things that were strange to me, like using rocks to make fires, but was very quick and very loud to criticise when I got it ‘wrong’.

I will never forget her and her cronies gathered round like feltris, all dressed in black, and looking as though they were going to devour me with their disfavour. Pursed mouths, beady little eyes and pronounced noses like beaks are the abiding memories I have of them. They were so much like those avians that descend in groups and tear apart freshly-dead animals that I could not fail to liken each of them to a feltren.

The single women of my age hated me because I had snared one of the few available men, and the younger ones were all warned off the foreigner by their mothers’ heaving bosoms above crossed arms and below heavy frowns. That didn’t stop the bolder ones of course, but even meeting with them was a strain because they were always checking over their shoulders to see if any mother or aunt or a friend of either of those was around. However, when some knew that I had my letters, then they pleaded with me to help them learn and we would pass a few snatched bells in my role as part-time teacher.

The older women disapproved of my education and apparently my ‘upper class’ accent annoyed them. And when I started to keep and train eppris, why then I was beyond the pale – doing a man’s job – how absolutely dreadful! It didn’t stop them buying the honey of course, but that’s neither here nor there.

From none of these groups did I ever receive one word of welcome, nor one of encouragement.

The town itself managed a living from an adequate influx of visitors due to the trade based upon the wool products we derived from the abundant pakh herds that lived here. There were other industries that were around, but the town’s fortunes rested squarely on the established esteem of our pakh-wool products, reputed to be the best in all Palarand. Of course, my husband and his family owned no pakh, a fact I recognised early on that meant we were in effect hangers-on, so where they derived their airs and graces from, not even the Maker could know.

Strangely, in retrospect, it was getting pregnant that was my saving. I had contemplated leaving on many occasions, but had never mustered the courage and then it was too late. It was impossible to countenance a single, pregnant woman finding her way back down the valley to a larger town and being able to fend for herself. This was nearly two years after I reached Blackstone. I was all cried out by then, and a dull resignation had set in, when I bumped, literally, into Griz.

It was late at night, a dark cloud-covered night. Willen was off into the remote valleys with a group of his cronies – later to become ‘The Group’. They had a contract for providing meat for the two Inns here in town and for the roadhouse down the valley, in the forest. I had discovered that that was what he was doing on our journey here – hunting some poor game animal to give to the roadhouse to earn some coin or to pay in exchange for our meals and board. Jafferkin and I had become closer over the intervening period and Jeen always seemed to speak to me when they came into town. In fact, there was one remarkable occasion that I shall tell you about later, but I will follow this thread for now.

I was making my way to our privy, dug like anyone else’s just next to the dungheap, when I collided with a soft warm body and we both tumbled down, not accompanied by silence. Once our mutual shrieks had died down, we discovered who each was and then I was shocked to hear her laugh. No-one here had ever laughed in my presence except the children when I was teaching them.

“I’m sorry!” she said through her laughs. “I had our pakh grenn on a line, but it slipped from my fingers. I just wanted to catch that wretched grenn now he is finally trained to help us round up our pakh, and has become worth something to us other than to bark when visitors appear at our door. We wanted an early start so I wanted him nearby. I was chasing after him when I bumped into you. And I can feel that you are in the same state as I. Here we are, two pregnant women, entangled in the middle of the night, and sitting on the outer edge of a dungpile.”

I was intelligent enough to burst into tears. Which event was interesting as one part of my brain seemed to act as an observer and muttered to itself: ‘I thought you were all cried out?’

We repaired into my hut, after I had done my business, with her arm around me and to which I clung like a drowning sailor. I discovered her name was Grizanthet, that she was married to Boxklee, that they had many pakh, that she had recently moved into a smallholding just down from the Scribe’s house on the other side of the stream to me, and that she had been warned about me. Apparently, I was the wicked wife of the Huntsmen’s leader who made him miserable, had disrupted the whole town, turned nosy children into amphibians and had the effrontery to pretend I was an Eppriman – as a result of which, I was apparently referred to as ‘The Epp’. I was far too big for my footwear and considered myself so far above the rest of the town that I refused to speak with any of them.

I burst into tears – again.

As the night progressed, I related my story to her and she hers to me. We both had a few good, healing cries. My dark cloud lifted and I felt strength course through me as we bonded. She found it easier to address me as ‘Epp’ and that’s how I came to like that misnomer. She became ‘Griz’.

Maker! I had a friend.

… … …

Yes, we had our differences – after one row we didn’t speak for nearly four whole days – but from that day onward I started healing. I plucked up enough courage to visit some nearer neighbours and met Gramobona.

She hastened the healing process. Some of her expressions were not repeatable in polite society, but had me roaring my head off. Her enormous girth and stature meant that she did little exercise but the cloth she wove from her pakh wool was of such demand that people fetched her daily requisites to her! In later days, she spent many a bell teaching me to weave, particularly in those days whilst I was nursing little Briselda. I dare say that my cloth was very acceptable indeed.

Gramobona (called by us GB) for weaving and sewing, Griz for cooking and part-time motherhood (she looked after younger ones for mothers that had to work in the fields), myself for letters and honey-making and later egg production eventually made a quite formidably competent circle.

And we were collecting some coin!

Every little soo and fenik I got for the sweet nectar produced by my increasing colony of eppris was carefully stored away in a jar. Which became two jars, once Willen had stumbled over the first one and had taken the contents as his. So I would leave one jar out with about a third of my takings, and I buried the other outside, near the dung heap. Nowadays there are several jars there.

(Note from Julina - in case that it has changed in the intervening years, or is too complicated for outlanders to comprehend, our money system is as follows:
The smallest coin we have is a Soo which is about enough for an ale or a snack, or a jar of her honey or a hand of her eggs
Then comes the Fenik, equal to 4 Soos. A standard meal is about 1 Fenik
20 of these make a Solly, or Sollie
A Crown is 10 Sollies
I should point out that not every transaction involved coin changing hands, a simple exchange of goods for services or other goods being almost the norm! My latest bedcover cost me four letters and two notices that I wrote. But enough from me, back to her and to her first pregnancy ...)

I could feel inside me that the young growing thing came more alive as well, became somehow happier too, if that is at all possible. GB and Griz were both there to help me when Brizzy was born, the husbands making sure that they had business as far away as possible. I was there for Griz, but hers was stillborn, there was a lot of blood and she never managed a pregnancy after that. I nursed her for some weeks and on more than one occasion I was convinced that she was about to leave us. Griz alone was with me when Termerik was born, but GB was there in spirit, a heavy chill confining her to bed at the time.

I had not explained this much detail in my infrequent letters to my father, I was ashamed to tell him of the huge mistake I had made and wanted him to continue in the belief that my life was fine. He had his own life to regenerate and I wouldn’t have him start worrying about me, so my notes were always positive without divulging too many facts. From his replies, I learnt that Subrish had travelled on and found work with relatives in Forguland. Father had been a little ill after an accident when a wagon wheel broke and the wagon hit his leg, but as his work was mostly in the offices in Brikant, he was coping fine; his housekeeper being a ‘jewel’ apparently.

Willen spent a little more time with Termerik now that I had (“at last”) provided him with a son and heir. But I objected to many of his frequent mishandlings. As an example, I objected to him trying to teach a five year-old how to use a crossbow to kill things.

Willen had set up a row of malmris on a low wall some strides behind our property and was letting the young one try to shoot them. The bolts of course were flying everywhere, unless Willen was doing the releasing, and one hit poor Nelke on the flank, but with most of its force spent. I almost laughed at the baleful glance he cast Willen’s way.

However, this was no laughing matter as I had earmarked those malmris for us to have after our supper, so I shouted at Willen which made him glare at me, but I was immune by now. He grumbled a bit, muttering into his beard and then just stomped off.

I was very keen on getting the children to eat some fresh stuff, having been brought up on the saying: ‘A malm a day keeps the Healer away’. About half the malmris were still edible, so I took them, peeled them, decored them and then boiled the slices I ended with in a mixture of some water and grated vayter.

This was the children’s favourite way of eating them. The sweet taste of the vayter balanced the acidity of the malm but that wasn’t the attraction for the kids. The vibrant blue of the malm and the bright orange of the vayter was what attracted their eyes.

Mind you, I silently cursed Willen for the next few weeks as every time Term saw a malm, he whipped out an invisible crossbow and slaughtered it – with sound effects.

I prevailed upon Willen to do some of the work around the house on the odd occasion, and once I managed to catch him at just the right time, and got him to build a small hutlet over the hole we used as our privy. He got a wagonload of grief over that from Jeberset and her cackling flock of feltris based on the unnecessary expense (which actually cost nothing other than a few jars of honey and a handful of eggs to the carpenter for the shaped wood) that he didn’t speak to me for nearly two weeks. Which he (and they) would never understand was a wonderful two week vacation for me, not having to suffer his marital demands, nor his unhelp around the domicile.

I noticed a few weeks later though, that nearly every hut and smallholder now had a wooden box in which to go and spend their most private (and smelly) moments. I grinned inwardly to think that I had been responsible for civilisation at last reaching this bywater of a town.

Once it took two full weeks of the rains to get him to fix the hole in the roof (in the corner nearest the door). In the end, I parked his second-best bow there and covered it with his mantle so that both got soaked. The hole was fixed three bells later.

On the whole, I would say that he was so lazy that, if there was a reward for laziness, he would have sent me to pick it up for him.

I did manage to get him to construct a small footstep in front of the door (to relieve me of some of the cleaning required when people enter with muddy boots) and also a second and third room so he and I could have a bedroom with some privacy and we could have one for the boys and one for the girls. But he then got all uppity about how much wood we were having from the carpenter, and he decided that I must be having an affair with him.

In fact, the carpenter was very pleased that my privy idea had so inflated his income that he said I could have any wood in the future for free, and his wife became quite friendly too. A single glance at how well the carpenter and his wife got on would suffice to know that the idea of him having an affair was plainly ridiculous, but Willen, his mother and the feltris-flock latched onto that idea in the same way their avian counterparts latch onto a fresh cadaver. This actually had an unexpected knock-on effect, in that the trouble they caused the carpenter and his wife was objected to by many in the community, and J and the FFs started to lose a lot of credibility and therefore their ability to affect events.

This too was blamed on me, and it was an occasion when I accepted the blame with both alacrity and glee.

Mother-in-law started to become more and more bitter from then on (a fact I would have believed to be impossible) and it wasn’t long before all that acrid poison inside her ate away at her innards. She had three days of severe pain, pain that even I was sorry to see her undergo, before she gave up the struggle.

This was, of course, also my fault.

Over the next few months, Griz and Boxklee helped me with another of my ‘mad ideas’. They did not understand what I was trying to achieve in building a wooden walkway from my footstep by the door until one day Griz was visiting and needed the privy. It was during the rains and she suddenly learnt that not only was it nice to have a roof over your head whilst dealing with your waste, it was nice not to have to wade through sticky mud to get there and back. Yes, more work and coin for the carpenter and a lot of unspoken credit for me in his establishment, which came in very useful a few years later, as we shall see.

Almost two years after Jeberset left this world - a passing that was totally unmourned by any of her four grandchildren, with whom she had never once shared any affection - I was startled to see Nelke return alone. Nelke you will recall was Willen’s frayen. The Group were off on their annual two week ‘game’ avian drive, a project that I must admit was of use to the community. The idea was to make sure that there were stocks of avians for the rest of the year to be hunted so that the community could eat a good variety of food.

I had (and still have) never visited the upper end of Blackstone Vale, but the descriptions I have had of it are quite interesting. The Blackstone ‘River’ flows basically from east to west, out of the Vale and into the Bray, so of course there is a slope up there that tips the water our way. Apparently there is a ridge into a neighbouring vale in which the waters run the other way, to the east! And over the far side of that is another vale and so on. It was in this area that 'The Group' was operating.

It took nearly two weeks to find him.

When they explained to me what must have happened, I remembered the angry looks that he sent my way whenever (and it was frequently) that I predicted dire results from his lack of thinking things through. Apparently, he had decided to investigate a hole in a tree trunk that was too high to reach from the ground. So he parked Nelke below the hole, climbed onto the beast's back and reached into the hole to such an extent that his elbow was inside the tree trunk. Nelke chose that moment to wander away leaving poor Willen suspended from his arm, with no way to retrieve that limb from the hole.

Yes, I did say ‘poor Willen’. I had loved him once, and to starve to death that way, unable to move, trapped fast, with no-one nearby must be a horrible way to go.

At that time, my children were, in descending order, 15, 11, 7 and 4. Briselda’s sister, Surekha, had been born at just the right time for me to explain the facts of life to her, Brizzy that is, so I was nursing the baby as I gave Brizzy ‘The Talk’. Country girls have seen much more of the cycle of life than I had when I was her age, and I am fairly sure she didn’t find what I had to say as distasteful as I had when I was on the receiving end.

Daily life continued and I was now reckoned to be someone of worth in the town, providing as I did nearly all the honey and half of the eggs consumed on a daily basis. Brizzy was turning a few boys’ heads by now and I made myself a promise that she would see more than just Blackstone before she settled down to her own life. Term was about to have his voice drop, and Mohini was starting to get serious and to build some muscles from the deliveries he made around town. He was at that lovable age of eight, still a child but wanting to be ‘old’ like his brother. Surekha was five by now and getting into everything, still needing half an eye on her to whisk her away from scrapes.

You can imagine the scenes when I told the four of them that I had organised a two week break for us all to go to Tranidor; the children were all beside themselves with excitement. Certain elders of the female persuasion were shocked and declared that we were flaunting my widowhood too soon after my husband’s death, but hardly anyone bothered to listen to them anymore.

I had arrived in Blackstone just before my 18th birthday. This trip was the first time I left the place, some 18 ½ years after I arrived.

… … …

There was one fairly strong reason to leave as early afterwards as we did. I needed, of course, to hire a wagon, to take the five of us and all our boxes. So who did I think deserved the coin most?

Yes, Jafferkin.

I mentioned earlier that we had become closer in the intervening years. He was one of the handful of regulars that came all this way, bringing ordered supplies and taking finished pakh wool articles. Although he said very little, he always had a little trinket for me and I had a jar of fresh honey for him.

As had become our custom, I trudged across to the wagon place at the top of town to see him arrive and again to see him off, various different babies on my hip as the years passed. Also as usual, Jeen appeared about half a bell before departure and backed into the traces and harness. It became something of a ritual, both of us appearing at the same time, and it delighted Jafferkin as his head would swivel to and fro to see which would reach him first. Somehow Jeen always contrived to make it an exact match.

And then something really unusual occurred on one of his trips. He arrived, I greeted him, he released Jeen and she wandered away, perfectly normal behaviour. Two days later, it was time for him to depart again.

Jeen appeared at the same time as I, but this time she was not alone. Trailing in her wake was a younger dranakh. Now, I am not able to speak dranakh and I do not understand animals generally, but Jeen somehow made it clear that both Jafferkin and I should allow the new dranakh to accept our arms in his (yes, it was a young male) mouth. We looked at each other with wonder and then performed the ritual. But still Jeen wanted something and we were at a loss to understand what, until a thought seemed to flash across my mind.

“Jaffy, she wants us to name him!”

“You, Mistress,” grunted Jafferkin as his eyes widened in surprised comprehension.

I knew it had to be a ‘J’ to go with the two of them, so I thought swiftly.

“Jonile?” but Jeen indicated a negative.

“Jordile?” This was again met with a no but one that verged on a maybe but only if there was nothing better.

I tried again and again.

And then something else just sprang into my mind.

“Josten!”

No question about it this time and Jeen somehow indicated that she was satisfied. She bleated with the youngster who watched intently as she backed into the harness, then they squeaked a bit and Josten wandered off towards where I knew the dam was.

Jafferkin and I looked at each other in amazement and awe. It was exactly the right moment to have a little hug, of which Jeen indicated her approval. This was the first and last ever physical contact I had with Jafferkin. And then J and J departed.

Maybe it will come as no surprise when I relate that next time Jafferkin was in town and it was time to go, both Josten and Jeen appeared. This time however, it was Josten who backed in and Jeen who remained to one side; she bleated a bit before looking at me meaningfully – and then wandered off damwards. Whatever the meaning she was trying to convey was, I felt I had no idea. Then.

I suspect I worked it out over time because, for the next few years, whenever I needed to move something large and/or heavy, then Jeen appeared to assist. She also never failed to come to see J and J whenever it was time for them to go.

Until one day she didn’t.

It was a strangely moving moment that even Josten seemed to join in. But of course, that’s the final part of the cycle of life, and we had all known that someday it would happen. I dried my tears as I watched the pair head off downhill, Jafferkin apparently had a small insect in his eye which needed clearing out.

But I have wandered away from my thread somehow - so back to our down-valley expedition.

I had hired Jafferkin and Josten to take us down there and bring us back, but that meant, of course, we had to depart when he was in town, having brought up a load on one of his regular trips; he would not make a special trip up empty just to collect us. It was either go this time or wait for maybe three or even four weeks. It didn’t require much brainwork to decide.

Of course, the old feltris didn’t let facts get in the way of their opinions, even when I got so frustrated that I dressed one down publicly and the people round about applauded me and laughed at her.

When that occurred, I found that I was amazed at myself. What on Anmar had got into me?

… … …

I have a theory born of experience, and that is that if you want to understand a subject, then teach it and answer the questions that you get.

On that journey, we kept ourselves occupied by my supervising Brizzy teaching the rest their letters and numbers. She found a good way to help with the numbers, by using the markstones we passed. We did this for three bells on each day, and we played name the plant/bush/tree, and who was the first to spot an avian/animal/insect, even a falling leaf. I let Term run alongside us for a while so he could stretch his legs without delaying us, and being a male, he ran faster than us and would wait two hundred strides ahead for us to catch up, complaining about how slow we were.

We spent the first night at the roadhouse in the forest which was a real adventure for the young ones, as they looked round in awe at sights they had never seen before. Although a large proportion of the workers there were from our town, most of the ten or so others were complete strangers. The young ones couldn’t stop staring, but fortunately the staff and travellers took it well. We could have gone on a little further that first day, but that would have meant camping and just being among ourselves. I judged it better to break them in gently when it came to dealing with strangers.

Term was full of energy in the morning and impatient to get back on the road. We loaded up and headed out, Term running ahead calling to us to chase him. I had to shout to keep him close. We went on for a mark or two like that whilst the younger ones did their numbers and letters and looked at the by-now boring expanse of trees.

Jafferkin then contributed a very valuable lesson indeed, one that took a fair while to conclude.

“Young goodman. You keep walking the whole day when Josten does, and I will buy you a frayen for yourself.” I think even he surprised himself with his verbosity.

“But you stay near us, Term. I don’t want you attacked by any wild animals, or getting lost in the forest.”

The 12 year-old screwed his face up in determination and I could see that he thought he was so going to do this. But both Jafferkin and I knew the effort it took to walk for bell after bell with little rest and he would have to drink when Josten did and rest then too. He ran ahead and pretended to yawn as we drew near him again which worked for a while but then we could see him tire as the bells passed and eventually he was struggling to keep up.

My heart went out to him, but sense knew that this was an important learning moment.

I whispered to Brizzy that she would have to be supportive later as he was going to be so upset and probably in tears, which was to be a valuable lesson for her too.

By this time we had joined the trade route from Chaarn and the traffic was a little heavier, not that it could be called busy, though. The children were still amazed at the different views and landscape. Roadhouses were a little more frequent as were spots to make rest stops. It was also less forested and views across the valley revealed high pasture and the odd mining outlet. An occasional canyon contributed its stream to the river which was now roaring , now quieter and twisty. Farms small and large had appeared and I swear Surekha’s head swivelled round three complete turns as she tried to take it all in.

We had a rest or two, we females needed to stop more often than the menfolk. And my heart again went out to my tough little man, my breast swelling with pride. Jaffy showed his respect too, but we both knew this painful lesson was important.

And then we continued.

Soon, all too soon, brave Term started dropping behind. He gritted his teeth and struggled on, but we all knew he would not make it – including Term. The poor little man eventually held out his arms for me to take him up into the cart belly and snuggled into my arms sobbing. I comforted him for a good while before he suddenly decided to be annoyed with me and flounced over to near his older sister.

At this point, incredibly, Jafferkin started speaking: “Young goodman, I have known you all your life. You are tough, stubborn and strong. Listen hard now. This has been a lesson for you. At the start you were so much quicker than us, but at the end we had to pick you up. Your mother has been an example to you all your life. Slow and steady gets there reliably and leaves you strength to use at the end. Fast and furious uses up your energy and buys you only temporary advantage. Growing up, you will remember this day. Slow and steady. Learn.”

I think we were all shocked. Those were more words in that one speech than I had heard from him in all of our times together. The children certainly had never heard him speak so long and so much, and so they were amazed as well.

Term realised the heaviness of the moment and I was proud to see him actually think about it and not react petulantly.

He nodded and dropped down into a corner, soon falling asleep. Brizzy whispered to me that she was impressed at how very hard he had tried, and I told her to tell him that personally at some point.

Surekha was getting fractious as the sun began to set behind us and even Brizzy and Mohini were starting to get fidgety.

I saw the distant rooves before any of them and I estimated another bell and a bit before we got to settle in for the night. I made Brizzy wake Termerik so he would see the approach. The children grew quieter and quieter as the size of the town became apparent. Even I was awe-struck, my mountain sojourn having affected me far more than I realised.

We turned into the bridge approach, Jafferkin paid the toll to the guards and we were through, crossing above the river into the town.

The children were absolutely silent now, indeed were looking a bit scared. We weaved through a few streets, passed strange places, were assailed by strange and exotic smells, caught glimpses of strange sights, and heard voices from everywhere about us. Not just voices talking. Some shouting, some singing, some encouraging others to buy their wares. Some laughter, some curses, some oaths, some losses of temper, some screams and tears and shouted rows. Some children laughing, shouting and playing. Some whining and crying. Rattles of wagon wheels passing over stone roadbeds. Screeches of badly worn axle-bearings, slams of doors. Barks and whines of domestic grennis. Distant ringing of hammers, the dull roar of the river, squawks of the water avians. Crackling of domestic fires and chops from the axes breaking down the wood to be consumed. Animal farts, bellows and bleats. Sweeps swishing the droppings clear. Was that a faint sense of music from over there?

And everywhere we looked, more people than in the whole of Blackstone.

But the noise was the most upsetting thing to us. How could anyone live all day in this tumult? We felt physically assaulted. We all held our hands over our ears as a forlorn form of protection.

Jafferkin twisted and turned his way around streets with which he was obviously familiar. I found myself wishing that there was somewhere I could go to order food for us all to be delivered to wherever we were going, to save me some time setting up our temporary home. After crossing the now mostly empty market square, we turned a few more corners and I saw through the alleys running besides the buildings that we must be close to where the Bray joins the Palar. There was one house there, lights lit and looking far more expensive than anything I could have budgeted for.

We drew up in front of it and two burly-seeming men came out the door, acknowledged Jafferkin and then started unloading our boxes. Another, older this time, man ushered me and the kids into a lower floor room.

All four children were trying to hold a hand of mine but that was never going to be possible; we all got temporarily stuck in the doorway. I ushered Brizzy through first and tried to disentangle the rest of the tribe when a voice spoke up.

“Ah, you must be Briselda. Come and give your grandfather a kiss.”

… … …

I squealed.

I know I squealed.

And of course cried.

We managed to disentangle ourselves and enter the room, and I saw my father for the first time in ages.

It would be difficult to know just which of us was more shocked.

I can only imagine what he saw – certainly not a blushing young recently-deflowered wife with smooth skin and eyes full of life and expectancy, which was the me he had last seen. A tatty dress, unkempt hair, work-worn hands and a care- and weather-beaten face is what he got.

As for me, I saw an old man in place of the still lively younger version I had been carrying in my mind’s eye. It will take me far, far longer to describe what I saw than it took for my brain to process all the information.

I saw that this man was a liar most of all.

He had no right leg anymore. His letters had told me it was a minor injury, but this was far more than that. His face was creased with pain and sorrow lines, he must have weighed a half now of what he weighed when we last parted, and he had to squint slightly to see.

But his eyes still held that special look for his daughter that had always made me feel so melty. I wanted to run to him and let him fold me once more in his arms, but my children could not be abandoned so easily. So I had to be the mother first before I could be the daughter.

“Gather round me children,” I said, holding my arms out to let them shelter under my wings. “This is my father. I haven’t seen him for nearly 19 years. I would guess he has tried to surprise us, and he has succeeded. Go to him now and introduce yourselves. I will wait until you are done. But then,” I said glaring at the grinning old man, “I will need an explanation. And it is already bedtime for Surekha, and soon will be for Mohini, and we have to unpack, I have to cook you something, we all need a bath …”

“The bath is waiting, food is waiting, the beds are made, and the bags are being unpacked as we speak,” interrupted Father. “I learnt from Jafferkin of when you would be arriving, and I arranged all this as a surprise for you all. Now children, your mother and I have a lot to talk about, but we can do that later. I doubt not that we shall be up a long time this night. So why don’t you females all go upstairs to your rooms, then go down to the bathhouse while I speak with your brothers? After you’re all done down there, then the boys can bathe, and we can eat. I must tell you that I am already starving as you are a whole bell later than we expected and have waited for you. So perchance you might hurry just a little bit, just this once?

“Oh … There are some staff here to help you. The housekeeper is called Shemekia, she has been with me now for over ten years, and the two maids are named Jogantha and Karmanya. Kermel is Shemekia’s husband and he is my manservant. There are two other servants, a man and a woman, who have been hired for the time you are here, so you can all live a life of ease. These are in addition to the small team who look after this place when there is no-one here. Now let me kiss my daughter welcome, and then greet you all before you rush about getting yourselves ready for our much-delayed dinner.”

I was crying as I let my father hug me from where he sat, and I hugged him back just as ferociously. Then we girls let Karmanya show us upstairs where we met Shemekia.

Upstairs! How very strange that was to us.

“Welcome, Mistress, to your Tranidor residence,” Shemekia said as she greeted me warmly. She turned and spoke softly to Karmanya who curtseyed briefly and then skipped back downstairs again. Shemekia turned back to us again and continued. “I have allocated each of you a room since we have six rooms on this level. My husband and I sleep in a room in the attic, and the girls share another up there. The Master has his suite downstairs, since he finds it more than a little awkward coping with stairs. The manservant for these days also sleeps in a room downstairs. Mistress, you are in charge of this house now, so should you find the allocations not to your liking, then we will move you round. We have put the boys to the slightly noisier side, and the girls have some views of the river. Now you are the eldest, so you must be Briselda. This is your room …”

Brizzy’s eyes opened in wonder at the size of the bed she was offered; it was the size of the room the girls shared at home. She turned to me as if for confirmation. I just nodded at her and ushered her into the room. Even I was taken aback.

“… And this room next door is for you young lady – I understand your name is Surekha …” she said as she opened a neighbouring door and stood back. The room was slightly smaller than the first, but still seemed huge to Surekha, who was reluctant to go in for some reason.

“… And this door here is a toilet for use by the females only. The door opposite is that for the menfolk. And the other side of this toilet is your room, Mistress …”

I gasped as the door swung open under the gentle pressure from her hand.

There on a shelf, were two of my childhood toys. The bed was enormous, the sheets glistening and the room was spotless. I could see a balcony overlooking the river through a set of double doors, and I saw also the open door to a private toilet that backed up against the wall of the toilet outside.

In each of the rooms were our boxes, appropriately delivered and positioned. And unpacked. I was suddenly ashamed at the comparative shoddiness of our clothing and knew that I would have to tell Father of my sweetening of the truth. A small cloud tried to form in my mind, but I refused to give it house room.

“Right children, into your rooms and I shall come and help you get ready for our bath. Just let me get my own dress off first and I shall come to you - Surekha first. Then …”

“Mistress, if I might?” interrupted Shemekia. “That is our job. Karmanya and Jogantha can help the girls, and I shall help you.”

“Oh!” said Brizzy and I at the same time. Surekha looked even more worried, somehow.

“Er, Mistress Shemekia?” said Brizzy.

“Yes, Mistress Briselda?” (Her eyes widened at being called ‘Mistress’ for the first time in her life.)

“I believe that my sister may not be comfortable with this arrangement. You see she has never had a bed of her own before, let alone a room of her own. I fear she may be frightened of being alone.”

I mentally chastised myself for being so seduced by material things that I had not figured out what was wrong with my youngest, but at the same time I was proud of Brizzy for acting so maturely. In fact, the way she had supported Term and encouraged him, and consoled him and let him know how proud of him she was in his self-appointed task on the journey down, just made me realise how she seemed to have matured just in the days since we left Blackstone. This was truly a wise move to make this trip.

I sat with Surekha as Jogantha put some of her fears to rest, and then I left Surekha and Jogantha with Briselda and Karmanya, whilst Shemekia and I went to make me ready for the bath for which I had been yearning for some bells now. When we went back to Briselda’s room, the four of them were giggling away together, and my two were bath-ready.

We all trooped down the stairs and turned sharp right at the bottom, followed a narrow passage to a door and went into the bathhouse.

Oh what bliss!

Scents that I had forgotten about, and that the children had never smelled; I could have spent bells and bells in there, and I sensed Brizzy at least felt the same. But we were also hungry, so I made us cut the experience short and we were back upstairs scarcely more than a quarter of a bell later. The boys had been informed that the bathhouse was no longer occupied, so they clattered in there. We girls got dressed as quickly as we could, but were still later to table than the boys.

We had a nice meal, Mohini and especially Surekha though were suspicious of various new things sitting there on their plates. Surekha ate enough to satisfy my maternal concerns, and within five moments was nodding off at the table. Jogantha offered to carry her upstairs, but I knew that I should do this, to make her more secure in this very strange and new world. I quietly explained this to Father who nodded, and so I left the table with my meal only half eaten, and carried my little one up to her bed. She woke, of course, at the touch of the cool clean sheets and so I lay down to hold her as she drifted back off.

… … …

I awoke in the morning to the sounds of a household stirring itself, a sound that I had not heard for some years. I almost leapt up to get on with my chores, but suddenly remembered our circumstances. I was embarrassed that I had not properly greeted Father. I worried whether the rest of my family were alright. I felt dreadfully guilty not to have done a thing to prepare for the new day. Little Surekha was cuddling my leg and was still ‘connected to the moon’, as I could tell by her tiny twitches and a gentle smile. I wondered for the umpteenth time about the dream a child of mine was having.

I lay there for while wondering how to get up to see to my needs without waking my little sleeping beauty.

Eventually, not so very long afterwards, the door creaked open a notch, and the gap quietly widened. Jogantha poked her head round the door and I smiled and nodded at her to come in, my finger to my lips as I glanced repeatedly at the little one. She nodded back understandingly and then surprised me as she gently and yet insistently worked a finger then two, then her whole hand between the clutching hands on my leg. She waited then a full two moments before mouthing at me to gently move my leg away. I understood the plan and managed to disentangle myself without waking my youngest.

Once I was standing and twitched my creased dress into place, Jogantha mouthed that I should go to my room. I smiled my gratitude at her and made my way to my untouched bed, in my unused room, where Shemekia was already waiting.

“Mistress, good morning! Your father insisted we leave you. Would you like a bath first and then we shall go and see him? He is most eager to talk with you, and all the children are sleeping sound, so now might be a good time?”

“Good morn, Mistress Shemekia, I think …”

“Just Shemekia to you, Mistress, if it pleases you.”

“Very well, then, Shemekia. Let me think ...”

I rapidly scanned through my head all relevancies of which I could perceive.

“I think I will bathe with Briselda and Surekha again this time, to help them settle in, so I will take off this rumpled dress and get prepared for the bath, then visit my Father in my housecoat. When the girls awaken, then we three can dive into the bathhouse without too much delay.”

“Very sensible, Mistress.”

And so it was that Father and I had our long-overdue chat.

There were tears on both sides, and self-appointed blame, and shock and horror at some passages, and wonder as well. There was also laughter and more than a few happy memories. He called me the name that I had had in the family, Gro, and it warmed my soul. Soon everyone in the household addressed me thus, and it once again promoted a loving and fond family feeling for all.

I learned Father’s tale and found that, when he had become the Senior Supervisor for his company, he was much relied upon for bargaining in contract work. The owner of his company had eventually got to the age when he wished to retire, having spent every moment of every day building up the business. This man had never married and had no children, so had continued working far longer than was normal. He had asked Father to act for him, and Father had subsequently helped negotiate a deal with another company run by someone called Tanon. The company was efficiently absorbed into Master Tanon’s.

Less than a year later, the company founder was dead and to Father’s surprise had left his house in Tranidor to him, along with sufficient coin to retain the staff for at least three years. Father had therefore travelled to inspect his bequest and had found the house to be superb. Father explained that travelling was nowadays extremely disagreeable for him, as his injuries meant that he could not sit or ride with any degree of comfort at all. Nevertheless, he had been determined to come up to Blackstone to visit his family - but just as he was about to leave, a messenger arrived with an urgent need for his presence in Brikant. He had kept the Tranidor staff on in deference to his benefactor’s wishes and had returned with Shemekia and Kermel to Brikant, intending to send for me to sort out the Tranidor house for him in his absence.

One thing led to another, and that message requesting assistance was never sent.

In the meantime, he had discovered that Jafferkin was an unaffiliated haulier contracted on an individual basis to his company, and now, of course, to Tanon’s company. His investigations revealed that Jafferkin lived in Tranidor, and rarely did any run other than that to and from Blackstone, so he had arranged a few errands for Jafferkin which took him south. Father revealed that he had gleaned something from Jafferkin about our circumstances, but not very much – enough to suspect that all was not as well as I had been painting it. So when I made the initial plans with Jafferkin about our two-week break, Jafferkin sent a message to Father letting him know what was afoot. Father had arrived the day before us, and was still suffering from the journey, but his appearance steadily improved during the days we were there.

And what days we had when we were there!

They included Briselda’s sixteenth birthday, and its amazing celebration. It was a shock to me that she was now considered an adult and I kept wanting to treat her as the child she was so recently. Father had spent far too much on dresses and clothing for us all, but for we girls especially, and we had our hair cared for by someone else for the first time. We grew accustomed to the continual din that had so assailed us upon our arrival, and we saw many sights that were new to the children.

It was not all carefree fun though.

Some major decisions had to be made. Father would have to return to Brikant, but with the feeling that he would probably retire in three or four years’ time and return permanently then. I myself found that I was not prepared to just walk out on those friends and projects I had in Blackstone.

But this house had already become my rock – my refuge – my fundament. My safeground I could escape to if things got bad. And that just made my attitude different. Knowing I had a bolt-hole if required.

But the most fundamental decision was something for which I just was not prepared. I think I had a blind-spot. My mind was refusing to let me see reality for once.

Briselda.

What to do with her? I made sure she understood that there was always a place for her under my roof, but that I could no longer be responsible for her decisions. She had that burden now. So we had many late evenings, Father, Brizzy and myself – sometimes Kermel and Shemekia also contributed, for they too had some sound ideas and suggestions.

I’m sorry, I got that wrong. I was no longer entitled to call her Brizzy. Briselda, I must remember, was now an adult.

In the end, we had a family sit down on the eve of our departure, all six of us together. Surekha was upset, Mohini was indifferent and Term was over-accepting to mask his disappointment when we all agreed that Briselda would travel with Father to Brikant in order to expand her horizons.

I emphasised to her that she had a job now. And that was to examine as many options as possible for her future, and not to just accept whatever came along. I didn’t want her to waste this opportunity. The agreement was made, Shemekia promised to look after her and we family members all had bright smiles – all of them brittle for many varying reasons, except perhaps for those of my father. I made her promise to write regularly and then had to use the facilities where I had a private crying session.

After the younger ones were abed, I took Father, Briselda, Shemekia and Kermel to one side to discuss another idea I had had.

My idea as we entered Tranidor nearly two weeks ago just wouldn’t go away, and I discussed it with the others. They also saw possibilities and we expanded the idea. Briselda was tickled pink to be included in these so grown-up discussions. We all threw ideas about, ripped some to shreds, embellished others.

Which is how we created the first ‘carry away’ cooked food service in Tranidor, where we would keep a constant stock of food cooking and customers could come and fetch food ready at a moment’s notice. This was particularly attractive to the relatively late arrivals who, like myself, had no desire to fire up a kitchen, prepare a meal and do the clean up before being able to think about sleeping. We charged a reasonable amount, and extra if the customer wanted to take the food vessel with them. Eventually the business expanded into accepting orders for meals to be pre-made for a specific collection time.

But at first it was slow going, helped a little when we paid for some urchins to stand on the Bray bridge and tell incoming wagons of our services, and then word spread, then the business took off to such an extent that we had no less than four imitators two years later.

But back once again to my earlier thread.

And so we returned to Blackstone with Jafferkin and Josten, one family member less, but two frayen extra, with saddles. Father had purchased one for Term’s use and the other for the family, so that we could get around a little easier. Term didn’t ride his frayen on that trip. (Which would actually have been sensible to get some practice away from prying eyes, but I missed that point somehow!)

Term surprised me on that journey, as he stepped into the vacated ‘oldest’ shoes, and he took over the numbers and letters lessons, doing a very creditable job.

He still did some running/walking beside the wagon and was delighted when Jafferkin told him to drive the wagon after one rest stop. Josten looked round to see what was happening and somehow exuded approval. I think the fact that Jafferkin promptly lay flat out in the belly and started snoring was an extra honour for Term.

I knew I had to bite my tongue from telling him what to do and just kept a wary eye on what was happening, hoping to be able to react quickly enough if anything untoward should occur. I was a nervous wreck inside but just couldn’t afford to let it show. But this distracted me from the unease I felt at having to explain why Briselda had departed without a farewell to her friends and peers, and having to deal with the feltris again.

I also enjoyed wearing the better clothes that I now had, but I also knew that many would think that I thought myself superior in some way. I had not transported all my new clothes, there being nowhere to wear them up the mountain, so a few were left in ‘my’ room in the Tranidor house, which was named the 'South Point Mansion'.

… … …

These village undercurrents did not last long however. A disaster, there is no other word, descended upon us.

It started with a general feeling of unease as a few pakh demonstrated some strange symptoms.

Apparently the animals showed an increased body temperature and a feverish demeanour, which went away after a few days. A further few days and the poor animals had blisters, sometimes in their mouths but more often in their feet.

Much, much later we discovered the reasons for all this. One pakh farmer had apparently accepted an animal from his brother’s farm up the Sufen valley in the belief that breeding from this animal would improve the stock of the herds round Blackstone. It seems that this animal was put out to pasture on the west bank of the Bray, and a few weeks later, it and animals with which it came into contact started these strange symptoms. Within months, nearly all the animals in the Bray Valley head had become ill, with by far the greater proportion of them dying but some surviving.

This meant we had no pakh wool, and therefore the need for buyers to come to Blackstone was removed. So we had no income; so the town went into a rapid decline.

Worst hit probably were the people who ran the larger inn of the two in town, the Ptuvil’s Claw. They had expanded the premises, added extra windows and facilities and even bought a herd of pakh. Their outlay had been enormous by town standards, but they were just starting to make a profit after two years of paying off their bills. Business dried up and their pakh herd had been decimated. They debated staying on in the hopes that matters would improve, but decided to cut their losses and try again elsewhere in a less fragile environment. So they announced they would abandon the building, boarded up its doors and windows and simply departed down the valley without a backward glance. No-one knows where they ended up.

I think that about half the residents left Blackstone sooner or later during that period, including such previous luminaries as the Guildmaster of the Weavers'. I can estimate fairly accurately since the demand for my products dropped off dramatically. Griz managed to keep going on the back of her side activities, their pakh being now a negligible contribution. The only pakh herders who came out relatively unscathed were those who lived up Blackstone Vale, whom we saw but rarely, and those very few who kept their flocks up as high as the Stone Sea. And GB was the heroine who kept weaving the vastly reduced wool amounts to the best quality, thus making some woven products available to get some income flowing. It was obvious to everyone that her products were required and so she kept busy. But times were hard for most.

It was only afterwards that I realised that the problem had disappeared with the rains, which were particularly heavy that year. After them, we didn’t see the illness again, but we had less than one twentieth or even one thirtieth of the number of animals we used to have, and the wool quality was noticeably inferior – it has gently improved over the years since, getting only now somewhere near the quality it once was.

I had initiated a scheme whereby I would go down to Tranidor every fourth or fifth week, being away for a total of nine days each time, two days to get there and two days to get back left five days there. I took with me usually six people, but sometimes as many as ten, particularly the boys and girls who were just either side of puberty. I took some adults as well, those who wished to see something other than just the Blackstone area. All of them reacted the same as we had when the noise and hubbub hit their ears and all soon adjusted to it. Some few decided to stay down there rather than return, which once or twice caused me problems with their families up in Blackstone.

Father had used his contacts to arrange some training for Term once he reached 14, and Mohini was by then 10, so I would occasionally let Mohini stay down in Tranidor for a month or two. He showed an aptitude for learning and developed a very active and enquiring mind. So much so, that I was negotiating for an apprenticeship for him to start in a couple of years. Certainly by now, he was bored with Blackstone and much preferred Tranidor. The catering business down there was making a small profit, the costs having been covered quite some time ago. Mohini was soon to be very helpful in this enterprise and thought up some new ways of spreading the word about the services.

Tranidor was the point through which most of Northern Palarand’s mined products passed, or so it seemed to us, and there was a constant demand for services in the bustling town, although many were disgruntled with Lord Trosanar. I did not know the details but I can only report what the word was ‘on the street’, so as to say. Lord T seemed determined to antagonise the miners particularly. Any wagon that crossed into Tranidor had to pay for the privilege, and the roads down the Sufen and Palar Valleys led only into the town. The only exit for all these wagons was across the Bray bridge.

My Lord Trosanar was happy to extract coin, but the word I heard was that not many saw what he spent it on.

And so life in Blackstone stuttered on in its decimated way. Yes, I stayed up in Blackstone mostly, as I felt that that environment was better for Surekha at the moment. Then one day a peculiar group of men arrived. One was obviously in charge, but the others with him were … odd. They looked like thugs, certainly not staff members.

We discovered that the leader was a newly-appointed Tax Assessor called Trogan. Not having much coin around in a practically derelict town, I thought it strange, but then nobles and their ways are very strange.

I was more concerned in making a life for my children and developing my options over on the west side of the Bray and paid little heed, if any at all, to the comings and goings in town. Griz and Boxklee were nearer the town, of course, and she reported to me that they were quite aggressive in their demands, having upset quite a few already. I just shrugged it off, and thought little more about it.

Four or five weeks later, it seemed they had visited everyone on the east side of the river, including up into Blackstone Vale, and were starting now on my side, beginning at the head of the valley. Griz and Boxklee lived on the east side of the river and had explained to me what they had experienced. They actually had very little of value to point to and were still charged a whole Crown. They didn’t understand how that was assessed, and tried to protest, but said they were literally scared off from doing so.

Once the Tax Assessor came round, surveyed what I had and demanded also a Crown from me, I understood why others were annoyed. I had seen him coming and made sure that I was in my oldest dress, my hair was unkempt and the children in stained clothes. I smeared a little dirt on my face and strew this and that around making the place untidy.

I also knew enough to not let on about my savings and my business interests downvalley, and came up with what seemed to be a good plan.

I explained that I would have to travel to Tranidor to get so much coin from relatives there and would be back as soon as I had managed to borrow it. The Tax Assessor looked again, saw that I had things that needed maintenance and would probably be back, so he demanded a Solly now and a Crown when I returned. I could tell he was only interested in extracting as much as he could and that was as far as he could see.

I never knew what it was that decided him to allow us to go, for he was mostly confining people to town. Maybe because I was a widow, I was apparently poor, I had some eppris that needed tending – who knows? The fact remained that I was given permission when others hadn't been. Looking back, I should have just not returned, but, living as I did away from the main centre of Town, I was unaware of the full extent of his depredations. I think he too was learning how to handle the situation he had caused. And maybe, by then, he had not so much blood on his hands as later, when he imposed an iron discipline.

It only took a week altogether to get it all arranged, to get the necessary eppriman stuff done and to close up the home. A wagon pulled into town and the wagoner was a little happier about the exorbitant ‘Bridge Toll’ when I offered to pay it for him in exchange for transport to Tranidor, his overnight expenses on the way also to be picked up by myself. Even then, 'twas a difficult departure, some of his men arguing that we should not be allowed to go. I believe that the final permission was granted simply because he was annoyed with one of his men and just decided to do the opposite of what that individual wanted.

And so we all went down to Tranidor: ‘we all’ being myself, Mohini, Surekha, Griz and Boxklee.

We had a slightly longer stay than normal, a month away being the most I dared to leave the epphomes (or epprihouses to give them their proper Palarandi name) unattended. We were preparing to depart upon the return journey when Surekha came down with one of those childhood illnesses that lay them so low. We were in a quandary as I needed to tend my epphomes and no-one else had the skills. In the end, Griz and Boxklee volunteered to stay with the little one while Mohini and I travelled back north. But Mohini wasn’t having any of that, so in the end I had to travel alone. That was actually better for me as I could rush about doing my and Griz’s chores without having to worry about a child. I was concerned that I might not make it before the rains started.

I found a wagoneer that had a half-load ready for delivery to Blackstone, and I paid him to go without waiting for a full load, fully intending to do my business and then return with him after maybe just a day’s turnround time. He was reluctant to be alone with an unescorted woman but I managed to persuade him it would be fine. I shall regret that sequence of events for all the rest of my life.

His name was Grout. His dranakh studied me and I saw that she was a she. I let her take my arm in her mouth and was told that her name was Taneesa. It seemed she was willing and also seemed to enjoy having a lighter load. She waggled her ears in what I interpreted as delight and I found the gesture charming, particularly as she had a black tip on one ear and a brown one on the other.

We had just passed the Chaarn junction, when Jafferkin came down with Josten. For the first time ever, his wagon’s belly was empty. Josten and Taneesa sniffled, snorted and bleated to each other as we humans were talking.

“Mistress! Strange folk in town up yonder. Man says he’s tax assessor. Them with him bain’t be no officials or I’m a dranakh. Ordered out and to not come back, I was. Me!” he was so outraged that he had nearly lapsed into whole sentences. This really raised my hackles. Both dranakh turned their heads to look at me.

I thought quickly. “Right, Jaffy. You go to the house and tell everyone I might be delayed a bit. I’ll try to find out what’s going on. This sounds very weird. Why did they send a Tax Assessor to Blackstone? We are nowhere near as rich as we were, and even then we were poor. And why send you away? I have a strange feeling about this!”

The dranakhs snickered at each other and we went our separate ways.

We progressed fairly rapidly through the forest and camped in the old roadhouse that had somehow burned. The smell still lingered, so an uncomfortable night passed. We were glad to make an early start and reached the town eventually, parking in the ‘camping place’ at the top of the street. What was strange was that no-one was around and about on the street as we passed through.

There were five men around us as we climbed down; all but the better dressed one carrying a cocked crossbow. The better dressed one was of course Trogan, the recently appointed Tax Assessor. It was immediately obvious that he didn’t recognise me, nor did any of his men. My clothes were so much different to the near-rags I had worn as we departed – and I was alone too, unencumbered by children. Grout of course had never been here before, so to them there was nothing to connect with the honey-maker who had departed a month ago.

Trogan demanded a Solly from Grout for the ‘Bridge Toll’. We were both shocked and he started to protest when the crossbows came up and pointed at him. He protested once again but Trogan stepped forward and cuffed his ear.

“For your insolence, I shall confiscate the contents of your wagon. We shall unload it now, then you get out. No-one will be leaving the town until the back taxes have been collected, so there is nothing here for you and I don’t want to have to feed another two useless mouths.” He turned to his henchmen and rapped out some orders. “Brakkis, shoot him if he moves a muscle. The rest of you, I want everything off that wagon and on the ground within a quarter of a bell. Everything!”

I stood and watched amazed as the goods were simply tumbled to the ground. I snatched my small box and nearly got shot for it. So I started to use a woman’s weapons – and burst into tears, thinking quickly all the time. No-one who lived near this end of the town was my size and my dress was still a Tranidor one which made me instantly recognisable. I would have to plead to use a toilet and then get some information from whoever lived round about. One of the boxes was quite heavy and gouged the hanging tailboard of the wagon quite severely before tumbling awkwardly to the ground where it burst open and containers of paint were sent over a wide area.

“I know women, and you probably need to use a toilet. There,” he pointed, “use that hut there. And then you and your husband can leave again. I want you out of here before the next bell rings.”

“This is unsupportable! How dare you behave this way? My husband and I have lived in this town for twenty years! We shall not be ordered about in this uncouth manner.”

The wagoneer looked shocked, but had the sense to go along with whatever it was I was planning.

“Now get your men to reload the wagon, and we shall move it to where it belongs.”

“Listen lady, I have already told you that the belongings are forfeit. Failure to pay a legitimate charge will result in a punishment. Count yourself lucky that you are unharmed. You!” he said, swinging round to Grout. “Where do you usually keep this wagon?”

“Er … er … er … it’s not actually our wagon, Your Honour. We have borrowed it from a friend who lives down by the forest.”

“Right then, you had better return it then, hadn’t you? I don’t want it cluttering up this space any longer. You, woman! Get away off home.”

“But I need my things. I can’t carry them all the way over there, the other side of the river. My husband must help me. Look, it’s way over there close to that hut where the epprihouses are!”

I saw Grout relax in relief. He now knew where he would have to pretend to live.

“How stupid can women get, lads? She has no ‘things’. She’s been told twice already, but she still doesn’t get it. Just get out of my sight woman! And you, leave your wife to fend for herself for once and return this wagon to your friend. You two still owe me the Solly, so you had better start working hard to earn it. The sooner you can get on with it, the better.”

He used sign language and head gestures to indicate to his men that some of them should follow my ‘husband’. I turned, clutching my box to my chest, and set out on the remaining mark of my journey home. I used the time doing that to think hard and deeply.

Something here was fundamentally wrong. Surely no legitimate Tax Assessor would act so. He must have gone rogue, I decided. I would discuss it with the Council first thing in the morning. I had no way to find out just how bad things had got in my absence.

… … …

I walked across to the town at around midday, having checked everything I needed to of mine, but hastily. I would have to sort out some chores that Griz needed to be done in the afternoon, but really the Tax Assessor business had to be the priority.

I went first to the Messenger Office though, to send a letter down to Griz at the house in Tranidor. I was surprised to find no-one there. When I turned round outside the Office, I was shocked to see one of the unkempt men casually stroll out of the Steward’s House.

I caught sight of Master Brydas further up the road, so I decided to go straight to him.

And from him discovered what I thought of as the full extent of the horror that had descended upon us. As we were talking, the man called Brakkis drove by on a freshly-painted wagon. Something caught my eye, and I froze in mid-sentence. I actually felt myself turn pale as the blood dropped from my face. I quickly turned my head to hide that reaction from Brakkis.

“Mistress? What is it?” said Brydas with some urgency.

I invented a coughing fit and leaned quite heavily on Master Brydas’ arm, my fingers threatening to squeeze the flesh from him. He caught my warning glance and indicated his understanding as I apparently calmed down slightly. I was watching out the corner of my eye as Brakkis carried on without apparent suspicion.

As soon as he was out of earshot, I whispered urgently that we had to go indoors for some privacy. He led me to his parlour.

“Master Brydas! Did you see that wagon?”

“Aye, Mistress?”

“The tailboard was hanging down.”

“Yes mistress, but that is not unusual. Why such a reaction?”

“It was heavily scratched. And the dranakh was what attracted my attention. She has two different colours on the tips of her ears. And so I looked closely at the rig, and I’m sure there is a smear of blood on the chair, poorly cleaned up.”

I continued to explain our arrival yesterday, and we both realised that the poor wagoner Grout had probably been killed. This added an extra level to the horror as we realised just how ruthless these thugs might well be.

And how careful we would have to be.

We had maybe an advantage in that they thought the wagoneer was my husband and so would have to be careful around me, but we had to play that card very cagily. The thugs had parked the wagon and attempted to move Taneesa by force. She set up a heart-stopping thrumming that I could see scared the men badly – it certainly did me. I was hoping that Taneesa would escape the men and find refuge out there above the dam. I was so relieved when she ambled off in that direction.

… … …

Two days later, Brakkis come to my home.

He just swaggered in, without an invitation and sat down in my chair, from where he inspected my meagre belongings with a predatory glint.

“Fetch me some pel, woman.”

“Get out of our house!” I remembered just in time to change the word ‘my’ to ‘our’.

He laughed, but there was no humour in his voice. “I was waiting for the pel. I know you understood my order. Get on with it.”

“My husband will be back soon, and I’ll get him to throw you out.”

“No he won’t. We found a chore for him, and we sent him down to Dekarran. He won’t be back for at least two weeks.”

It wasn’t difficult to let my shock show and I felt a definite chill settle into the room. My heart started hammering in my chest.

“I have no intention whatsoever of giving you any house room at all. I will report you to your boss, and you will lose your job. This is an unwarranted intrusion and I will make sure you regret this.”

He laughed again. “I do like a woman with some fire. I’ll soon bring you round and you’ll learn to appreciate a real man for a change. Now get busy. It’s thirsty work this tax collecting.”

“Just get out. You are not welcome here. And don’t bother coming back.”

He stood slowly, and neared me. I drew back my hand to slap him and let fly.

He was incredibly quick.

As my hand came forward, he grabbed it and twisted my arm so it went behind my back. He pulled me to him so my breasts were crushed painfully against his shirt, a shirt that my nose told me had been worn for a week or more already. His other hand grabbed my second wrist and dragged that arm behind my back too. His stinking breath was in my nostrils as he lowered his lips to mine and pressed them hard together. I can’t describe it as a kiss. My lips were crushed against my teeth, and I felt the upper one split and blood started to run.

Holding both my wrists in one hand, still behind my back, he used the other to grope my breasts. I suspect he would have made a good baker, the way he kneaded my poor flesh. I was struggling all the time of course and screaming at him in shock, fear and anger.

He wriggled sideways slightly and resumed the attack on my chest from above, burrowing down inside my bodice. This actually was to my advantage as, by arching my back more, the bodice half-trapped his hand in place. I managed at the same time to dig a nail into the soft flesh at the base of his thumb of his other hand and that let me get a hand free as he yelled in pain. With that hand, I grabbed the front of his trousers and squeezed hard. His hands both whipped down towards his crutch so I did the best I could to use my now-free other hand to gouge out an eye. I missed, much to my dismay, but one of his hands came up in self-defence.

I could have sworn that the room got darker at that moment.

I was by now desperate as he was so much heavier than I, and I swung round, still maintaining my iron grip on his bits which made him stumble somewhat. Both his hands shot outwards as he instinctively tried to keep his balance. This gave me a few more breaths to torture his testicles and I struggled to make my longer nails do some damage.

Suddenly a fist shape appeared in the corner of my eye and a terrific blow rocked my head and blurred my vision. I felt myself falling as a foot crashed into my thigh. I feared the worst when I landed awkwardly on my back, leaving me struggling for breath.

His snarling face was inches from my own as I felt his knee force its way between my legs, my skirts having been flipped waistwards. My hands were scrabbling for something, anything to use as a weapon.

“You little ptuvil! I’m going to teach you a lesson for that! After I’ve done you, I’m going to …”

There was a dullish metallic sound and suddenly his entire weight was crushing me. A hand rolled him half sideways and I struggled out, breathing so fast I thought I would faint.

“This is an awkward situation,” said my saviour. “Will it be less trouble if we kill him, or if we let him survive? I vote for the first as he might otherwise go off and prey upon easier victims. Either way, I’m afraid you will need a new grease pan to cook with.”

“Oh GB, thank you. I feared I was lost, then. We should complain to Master Trogan. Let him deal with it.”

“Come my dear, you’re not that naïve. Trogan is no more a Master nor a Tax Assessor than you are a zinakh. These are opportunistic bandits, nothing more.”

“But I hear he has papers proving what he is.”

“Oh pssh. No official appointed by Lord Gilbanar would act like this, arriving with that many thugs in tow is a clear secretbreaker.”

“But the Council ...”

“ … Are a bunch of sawdust! Trogan was plausible for a short while, and now he has control over them all by a variety of means. His men have been importuning poor women since three days after they arrived. The people of this town just want to turn a blind eye.”

“Sometimes I get so annoyed that we are ‘mere women’. There must be something we can do.”

“Well, be careful. He knows you were involved. He didn’t see me at all, although I did block most of the light when I came in,” she giggled which made for wondrous ripples over her entire body. “And I do know men well enough that he’ll never admit to being beaten by a woman. So he mustn’t know anyone else was involved.”

“I have to discourage him somehow from returning. We can’t just kill him, it’s broad daylight and someone would be bound to see, even if I could bring myself to do it. Oh … wait a heartbeat, I have an idea …”

I thought it through rapidly and an evil giggle emerged. “I think, dear GB, that it is time to engage the assistance of my dear eppris. You know how they have fiery bites that swell and itch? Well if I was to go and fetch a hand or two, and we were to introduce them into his trousers …”

Gramobona wobbled all over again as she laughed.

But all of a sudden, she went quiet and a strange expression crossed her features.

“GB, what’s the matter?”

“Well,” she said more diffidently than I had ever seen or heard her speak before. “I … er… the thing is … Oh Maker!”

“C’mon GB. This is me. We have no secrets. What on Anmar is the matter?”

She hesitated a bit longer, the gushed out: “I have never seen a man’s you-know-what. Can I be the one to do it? Please?”

I knew immediately that I dared not laugh and managed to quell a noisy outbreak, but I could barely concentrate as I went and collected 8 or 10 of my loyal little workers.

“Where would be best? … Oooh, it’s all very ugly isn’t it? … This shrivelled little thing can do … er … you-know? Really?… Hmmm – quite soft skin mind you … Poo, what a stink! … Right, that should do it, let’s pull those breeches up quickly … Well, if you ask, me – here help with this button - I don’t know what the fuss is all about. Doesn’t look like I’ve missed out on anything … Thank you for letting me.”

We dragged him out of the house and onto my little wheeled dray I use for small loads. The walkway to the ‘outhouse’ as we had dubbed it made it easy to get the supine form to the dungheap where we left him spread-eagled on top of the most recent additions. Being the considerate people that we were, we rested his head on the damaged cooking utensil, totally ‘forgetting’ that the metal might get ever so hot in the sun …

GB waddled off back to her home before Brakkis came round again, and I sat there in the shade, keeping half an eye on the approach from town, feverishly trying to plan some way that I could help to relieve the town’s agony. A bell passed, and then two of the thugs came directly from town towards me, which told me that they knew where Brakkis had gone.

I had plenty of time to get myself into a state.

“Oh thank you for coming!” I practically sobbed. “Your fellow has been taken ill. I did my best to get him to safety, but I’m only a feeble woman. I didn’t dare leave him in case he was bitten again. Some people become ill when they’re bitten by an epp and some have even died from it, after swelling enormously. You had better fetch a healer. Oh Maker! The poor man. I don’t know what to do! Oh I’m so grateful for your help ... ” I gushed on practically tripping over my own tongue as the words vomited forth.

And I got away with it.

I suppose it helped that the rains came then, although I was worried about my children not being with me.

I pushed my luck over the next few occasions by commenting on the quality of the honey whenever Brakkis was near, and his heavy scowl was a secret reward for myself. They did however, manage to find out that Grout hadn’t been my husband – and, without confessing anything, made me understand that they had killed him. They tried to make me feel bad about that, saying it was my fault they had had to do it. However, you will remember, I had played the blame game for a lot longer than they could ever imagine.

I was worried about my family, and Griz and Boxklee down in Tranidor. I was worried about all the things we epprikeepers had to worry about. I was worried about the town and Trogan’s harsh regime. I was worried what might happen if another of them tried to force themselves upon me. (But either Brakkis warned them off, or, more likely, they were getting too busy most of the time.)

It wasn’t until the trial that we finally understood the depths they had gone to - but it was a worrying time for us all.

Almost as soon as the rains had ended their severity, a wagon appeared. Yes, there had been several other wagons arrive and all were sent away empty. I was expecting daily some response from the letters and notes I had sent but, so far, nothing happened.

This wagon was different however.

It was carrying Griz, Boxklee and my Surekha, whom I had missed dreadfully. I was again with Master Brydas trying to find some way out of our predicament, when I saw my little one’s face. I could not help myself, I ran up to the wagon park and met them there. I’m not at all sure which of us was the more emotional, but it WAS a lovely feeling to see my little one again and her tight grip assured me that she was pleased to see me as well.

By this time, the Trogan mob had established a routine for dealing with incoming wagons having learnt from some earlier mistakes. At first, the driver objected to Trogan’s exorbitant demand for the ‘Bridge Toll’, but I managed to get Boxklee’s eyes and persuaded him to pay it.

Trogan had not seen my eye-message and therefore was surprised; but there was now no reason to confiscate the contents of the wagon. The driver was ordered to help carry the personal boxes to our respective homes and I learnt that his name was Shemel.

I managed a short and quiet conversation with him to give him a warning, but he just didn’t believe that what we said was happening was in fact the truth. I tried really hard to convince him and mentioned the events of the wagoneer who had brought me up here those long weeks ago. It was mentioning the dranakh’s ears that tipped the balance my way.

“Maker! We didn’t know what happened to him. Old Grout just disappeared as far as we were concerned. But Taneesa has that colouring well enough. I’ll be very careful and get some help.”

Everything went along as expected and I breathed a sigh of relief that soon someone would know of our predicament.

I was on my way to the Smith’s when I saw some consternation amongst Trogan’s men. The thug named Pexen came running up to Trogan. By this time, Shemel was across the bridge and oblivious to events behind him. I heard Pexen explain to Trogan that Shemel had recognised him.

“Oh Maker! Right then, you guys know what has to be done.” He savagely issued some more orders but they were still said too quietly for me to hear. He swivelled back to us. “Get home you lot, go on. Get! Now!” he snarled.

We got.

It took me all evening to convince Griz and Boxklee of the facts and they were immediately worried. I discovered that they had never received any of my written messages. We debated moving all together for some safety, but I decided against that. I already had a high profile, I didn’t want to drag them into notice. It took a long while to bring them up to date, but I was buoyant knowing that we had a chance of getting a message out to bring help. And then I remembered the final scenes and my hopes plummeted again.

… … …

Griz and I held each other’s arms tightly when we saw Bildo driving a wagon up the street to the ‘camping place’. Griz nodded confirmation as to it being the one in which they had arrived.

This was the third morning after.

Poor Shemel.

I felt so sad, angry and determined all at the same time. I was also amazed; amazed to see Taneesa wander up to the wagon park where she started bleating. As soon as Shemel’s dranakh was unharnessed, he shouldered Bildo out of the way and the two went off, moving smartly towards the dam. I was pleased for the small victory, but was amazed that Taneesa had turned up just when she was wanted.

The next days passed and I could tell there was something happening. There was something in the air.

As women, we were always ignored and so we gathered together and discussed what could be done. But the advantage we had of being below consideration was our greatest drawback as well. Because we were totally ineffective. But there was a feeling of togetherness that I had never felt before.

Five nights after the ill-fated departure, my life changed.

I was woken by Surekha tugging on my arm. I was very dozy as I struggled awake. “Mama”, she hissed urgently, “there’s a dranakh trying to get in my window.”

Oh it’s been a long while since she had strange and worrying dreams. I was about to hug her to soothe her when I heard a definite dranakh bleat from outside. I threw on a housecoat, told Surekha to stay in my bed, and I crept outside. Not one but two dranakh were there, one carrying some bundle. Somehow I knew the one unencumbered was Taneesa. She tugged me gently to the other one who immediately fell to his knees and then lowered the other legs in turn until the spine was just above and next to the raised wooden walkway. I realised I was supposed to take the burden from his back.

I got my wheeled dray as the load looked quite large and moved the dray as close as possible. In the light of the stars I then started to tackle the lump.

I squealed and jumped back.

It was a human.

It flashed across my brain that the other dranakh was the one that had just arrived with ... Shemel! This must be Shemel! I tried to lift him, but couldn’t but then the dranakh sort of shrugged and he rolled off neatly onto my dray, overflowing it at each end. I rushed indoors and told Surekha to run to Griz to get help. This scenario was suddenly familiar but sufficiently different to make it seem surreal.

And then something amazing happened. When I came outside with Surekha, Taneesa offered her a ride!

I hesitated for fear that Surekha might be injured but a wave of reassurance seemed to emanate from the animal, and Surekha scrambled up, thinking this was a super adventure.

I returned to the dray, and, keeping his ends out of the way, I wheeled him gently towards the hut.

Far sooner than I could ever have hoped, I heard the dranakh returning. How Surekha had persuaded Griz to mount I have no idea, not even to this day. But she was here, and the three of us got Shemel into my bed, and with sufficient light from the oil lamps for us to see what was happening.

As soon as I saw the crossbow bolt protruding from his calf, I sent Surekha to boil some water, an old pakh farmers trick for treating bleeding injuries that seems to have better results on the animals recoveries. While she was away, Griz and I cut off the bolt at the fletched end and then pulled on the sharpened end to try to get it free. In this fashion, we tugged the bolt out of the hole. We were amazed at how much strength it required. Shemel groaned and yelped, which was a good sign, but did not regain consciousness, which wasn’t.

We washed the area with cloths as hot as we could hold and again he groaned. We did what we could and made him as comfortable as possible, knowing we would need a Healer to help. There was one in our little new-born opposition group, so we could just hope that she would keep this a secret.

Just before dawn, Griz left to go home and I tucked Surekha into her bed. I pottered around for a bit, and then felt sleepy. I stretched out on top of the sheets on my bed and promptly fell asleep.

Griz made enough noise approaching that I knew someone was with her. Someone who we shouldn’t have snooping around. I, groggily at first but improving rapidly, woke up. I knew there was some urgency required, but it seemed to me that I had been cuddling Shemel, or he me, or something. I just didn’t have time to think about it right then. I bundled up the bedclothes and thus made sure that Shemel was not easily seen.

I slipped on a dress and went outside.

There were two of them with her. I summoned up my courage and plastered on a smile.

“Mistress! We have a problem. There was a bit of a fuss last night, and we need to come to see you. You are apparently responsible.” How my smile didn’t waver, I have no idea.

“We have no honey where we live. So we need four jars of honey, immediately. And four every week. Master Trogan says this will reduce your tax debt by one Solly.” I almost laughed out loud, but handed over eight jars there and then, and ushered them away. Once they were out of earshot, I let out a huge sigh of relief. I asked Griz to go and fetch the healer, saying to anyone that Surekha needed some help. I prepared Shemel for the investigation as far as I dared.

The news was a mixture of good and bad.

His wound was infected, but not as much as other similar wounds she had treated. The upper leg was broken, but was what she called a simple fracture and would heal itself as long as it was kept still. Griz suggested tying two short planks either side of the leg and we all thought this was a good idea. It did make the leg very thick though. There was a blow to the head about which the healer was most concerned. And a lack of food and water for the past three days would not provide healing strength. However, if he woke today or tomorrow, then there was hope, otherwise it would be difficult. She said she would come every day to check.

I could go into details of each day, but that wouldn’t be interesting to your readers, so I will simply say that he awoke on the second day, I fed him some gruel and he started to improve. The healer was insistent that he walk as soon as the bone had mended and we discussed various ways we could achieve this when the time came.

There was also another factor.

Shemel explained what had happened to him and we understood the extent of our difficulties.

He had been unaware of the consternation behind him, but had already been on his guard as soon as he saw and recognised Pexen. He urged Deel, the dranakh, to a faster pace without being obvious and he made it to the forest before any pursuit was too near. Once there, he got Deel into a gallop, went about two marks and then jumped off the careering wagon onto a soft grass verge. He ran into the trees and hid as the chasing frayen went past, then he picked his way down to the water, hoping to be able to scramble along the banks. The river was still in spate this soon after the rains.

With the river to guide him, he knew he would eventually get out of the Blackstone area. He estimated he had covered about ten marks from town, had only 20 or 25 more to go. He made he reckons a further five or six before night fell. He was then close to both road and river, so he clambered up to the road and strode out, safe under the cover of darkness. He managed a further six marks before the need for sleep overtook him.

He slept in the woods, hidden from the road, hoping that he wouldn’t snore. He awoke four bells later, by his estimate. Making his way once more to the river, he caught a fish and ate it raw, slaking his thirst with the river water. Then he followed the roaring stream during the day. Again he reckoned on five or six marks of progress.

Once the sun was setting, he made his way back towards the road intending to repeat the previous night’s method. It was pure chance that he saw and heard his pursuers before they saw him. He retreated into the forest very slowly, eyes skinned on the road. He literally tripped over Fret who was using a hollow in the roots of a tree as a privy. Fret gave voice to alert the others, and Shemel took off rapidly downhill using the slope to give him some initial speed. He was nearly clear of them when he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He weaved in and out of some more trees, his leg on fire. Eventually it was too much to bear and he stumbled with a loud yell, careering off a large boulder on the river bank. The uneven ground caused him to topple into a hidden hollow behind a bush as the boulder teetered before ending in the river with a loud splash.

His pursuers gathered on the river bank and just made out, in the fading light, the bright red splash of blood on the partly-submerged boulder. Thirty strides further on, the river disappeared into a melee of tangled water and rapids. The pursuers decided that he had gone into the water and perished there. They had not seen the boulder topple in, so assumed the blood was from the body toppling onto the rock.

They left.

Falling into the hollow, Shemel had hit his head and he said the next bells were like a dream as he swam in and out of consciousness. He was aware of the sun coming up and setting again and in the meantime he had struggled up to near the road and then collapsed. Two dranakh appeared in the twilight and he remembered scrabbling up onto the back of the one he was sure was Deel, whilst the other occasionally nudged him on the bottom to help.

And that was it. He remembered no more until he woke in my bed.

Our hopes of alerting people outside the valley here had evaporated, and we were harbouring a man earmarked for death if he was discovered. That man had to exercise soon as well, so there was only one solution as far as we could see.

I donated maybe a third of a stride of hair from my tresses; they now reached the small of my back rather than my wide posterior. Griz and GB sewed the slashed off pieces into a headcloth. GB altered one of her dresses, and Shemel became a woman for the next few weeks, my crippled cousin from Tranidor who had arrived in the night on a borrowed frayen that had been released to find its way home. Her husband had died and she had underestimated the time it would take to reach me, so she made the final three bells of travel in the dark, scared witless of all the forest noises at night.

But actually no-one ever asked and that story was never required.

Shemel and I talked every evening – sometimes I would give pointers in feminine gestures and so on, but mostly about our lives and back stories.

… … …

And then our Baroness arrived, and our town was shaken out of its daze.

I attended the trial full of a fierce determination to see those thugs receive justice, but when those other girls described what they had suffered, I could bear no more, and rushed home in tears. Shemel held me as I sobbed.

“Oh, if only I hadn’t done that to Brakkis, then maybe those other girls would not have suffered so much cruelty.”

“Hush now, my love. Er … I mean cousin …” His voice trailed off and he looked guilty.

Then I realised that the growing warmth of my feelings for him was reciprocated.

I knew it was up to me, so the next night, I arranged for Griz to have some need for Surekha to stay the night there.

… … …

Oh I never knew that it could be like that!

And I knew that Shemel felt the same.

In the afterglow, he asked me a question: “What, my love, is your name? I have only ever heard you referred to as ‘Mistress’, ‘Epp’, ‘Gro’ , ‘cousin’ or, most often, as simply ‘woman’.”

I whispered it to him and for the first time ever he called me by my name.

The first time it was ever uttered aloud in Blackstone.

And it was said with such warmth that even today I get a thrill when he calls me, in that special way of his, by my full name – Megrozen.

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