The Chronicles: Three Sisters 07

THREE SISTERS Chapter 7

For many months, I thought myself happy. Maybe it was simply that I was busy: building new houses, stockpiling wood for the winter, laying in food - all this while studying the defences of Prospal Hill, as I tried to ascertain if it was as well hidden as most of its inhabitants believed it to be.

But as winter came on, I discovered that I had grown moody, and irritable. Guenna looked at me, mystified, and slightly hurt, when I scolded her for no good reason. Sulcen said nothing, but she avoided eye contact even more than usual.

It wasn't her fault, either - though she was the cause.

After several months, I still hadn't achieved a breakthrough with my wife. She lay with me, whenever I wished it - which was quite frequently. I admit that. She would listen, attentively, if I told her a story, or described anything in great detail. But her answers to my innocent queries were evasive, or limited to a single word.

I stayed well away from any mention of her first husband, or the life that she had led, back then. Nor did I ask her about what had happened between them, that drove her to kill him. Yet I wondered if I was unknowingly reminded her of what she'd been through.

Still, she avoided looking at me, and rarely initiated a conversation, unless it was about some trivial matter, which was quickly resolved. I was growing angry. It wasn't her fault, but more and more I suspected that she was unhappy.

I knew that I had a problem when I snapped at Hedyn while he was helping me build a table for our house.

The big man didn't respond. He simply laid down his tools, and stood up.

- "We'll finish this tomorrow." he said.

That was when I realized that I was losing my self-control.

- "You're an idiot." said Guen Nadesti, when I told her about it.

- "That's helpful." I said.

- "For a reasonably bright man, you're remarkably stupid, Veran."

- "Oh?"

- "You're punishing yourself." said Mother Nadesti.

- "Am I, now?" I said, with a touch of sarcasm.

- "You blame yourself for Meonwe's death. And for your son's." she said.

I opened my mouth to answer, before realizing that I had nothing to say. She was right.

"It's not all your fault." she said. "Lanko was reckless, and a fool. Dengel was stubborn. And if you should have seen into Bacho's heart a long time ago ... well, I didn't see it, either."

"And you had nothing to do with what happened to Sulcen."

I nodded. I knew that.

- "It wasn't your fault, Veran." said my wife's mother.

- "But ... I can't reach her, Guen." There it was. I admitted my failure - one more thing to feel guilty about.

- "You already have." she said, softly. "She agreed to marry you. Unless I'm completely mistaken, you've been sleeping together - quite regularly. And she hasn't killed you yet."

- "That's not funny."

- "It wasn't meant to be. Veran - you think you know what's she's been through. You don't. Whatever it was, she can't even speak of it. Don't wear yourself out trying to guess."

"Be kind to her. Be patient. You've already made more progress with her than I have. In less time, as well. Just be patient."

My girls were wonderful with Sulcen. Yevna brought her small game, and helped to prepare it. Guenna kept Sulcen company, and hovered nearby, ready to help with any task. Tanguiste put into practice all of the lessons she had learned in Moruith's house. My daughters were almost too helpful.

It was Tanguiste who saw it first.

- "We have to give her more space." she said. "There doesn't have to be someone with her at every moment. She probably wants to be alone from time to time."

- "I don't want her to be lonely." said Guenna.

- "That's your greatest fear. Sulcen may not see it that way." said Tanguiste.

So I asked my wife.

- "Are the girls bothering you too much? Would you prefer to be left alone, sometimes?"

Sulcen thought carefully before she answered.

- "I do enjoy quiet ... and solitude. But your daughters are very kind. I wouldn't want them to think me ... ungrateful."

I repeated what she had said, word for word. The girls weren't put out at all. From then on, Guenna limited herself to one - or two - questions a day. And all of three of them got into the habit of hugging Sulcen before they went out - and then leaving her alone, in peace, for longer stretches of time.

That wasn't the only help they gave me. Tanguiste had advice to offer.

- "Tell her what happened to us, Papa. Tell her about Mother, and Iarn. Explain it to her. Your eye, and Yevna's teeth. She deserves to know, don't you think?"

I had been resisting the urge to tell that tale. Somehow, I feared that Sulcen might take it as an attempt on my part to earn her favour. 'See', I would be saying, 'we've suffered, too. We're the same as you.'

But I knew, now, that nothing could be further from the truth. My girls and I had shared our night of horror. We had each other to lean on, to share our pain. And our horrific experience had lasted for a single night, before we exacted a measure of revenge and made our escape.

Sulcen had suffered alone - for years.

She'd had no one to turn to, no one to confide in. And when she finally found the courage to defend herself - her husband's community turned her out. They knew what he'd done, and that she was the victim, but they sent her back to her mother anyway.

That didn't mean, though, that I should keep our experience from her. She could make of it whatever she would. Tanguiste was probably right, too, to suggest that she would never tell me her story first.

The three girls went to spend an evening with Moruith and Inisian, leaving me alone with my bride. Sulcen understood that I was up to something.

- "I want to tell you a story." I said. "At first ... I was afraid to bring it up. It's not a secret, exactly. There are others who know - including your mother. But I want you to hear the true version. I want you to understand my daughters, and to know how Yevna lost her teeth."

Sulcen nodded, and sat down.

I told her everything, from the theft of Eguen's sheep, to our flight from Moruith's house. I didn't spare her - or myself - a single detail. It wasn't easy to speak of Meonwe - of how much I loved her - to my new wife.

It was ... an incredible experience - for me. Somehow, I think that Tanguiste knew that it would be. There was a humbling moment: my adolescent daughter was wiser than I was.

My wife listened to my lengthy tale without a word. When I finally fell silent, she let me sit quietly for a time. Then she stood, and came around to stand beside me. She slowly wrapped her arms around me, and cradled my head against the swell of her breasts.

My arms went around her waist, and I closed my eyes. Later, she helped me stand, and led me to our bed, where she held me tight, long into the night.

***

It was a week later, if I remember correctly, that Sulcen spoke to me - before I had said anything myself.

- "When did you first think of me as something other than a character from a bylina[1]?" she said.

I was stunned. I wanted to ask her to repeat what she'd said - but I heard her clearly - every word.

"When you first met me, did you see me as an object of curiosity - or pity?" she added.

- "Neither." I said. "I remember the first time I saw you, sitting next to your mother. Believe me - I was shocked to see Guen Nadesti. After all that had passed between our families ..."

"But I was distracted by ... you. I had no idea who you were. I readily admit that I hadn't seen many attractive females for quite a few years. Still, I asked myself: 'Who is that lovely woman'?"

- "Is that so?" said Sulcen, with a little roll of her eyes.

- "I didn't find out who you were until Hedyn told me, later."

She may have had trouble believing me, but I suspect that she liked my answer.

***

My girls continued to grow, and to change, on Prospal Hill. As I hoped, they made friends, and became part of a community again.

Yevna changed the least. She remained an avid forester, roaming the woods, hunting and scouting. In those skills, she had surpassed Inisian, by his own admission. She frequently left the hill altogether, which made me very nervous.

- "I worry about you, when you do that." I told her.

- "I'm sorry, Papa." she said.

- "What would you do if I forbade you to leave the hill?" I asked.

- "I would feel very sad."

- "But you'd do it anyway."

Yevna put her arm around my shoulders.

- "I'm very careful, Father. I remember everything that you and Inisian taught me. I cover my tracks, and I move very slowly."

I had to be satisfied with that. It was some consolation to me that Inisian still accompanied her from time to time.

- "She's uncanny." he told me. "She barely makes a sound. If I gave her a head start, I doubt that I could find her."

- "You're not just saying that?" I asked.

Inisian shook his head. "You don't understand, Veran. She's a wood-sprite. It's natural, for her. I have to think about what I'm doing - she doesn't. To tell the truth, I'm a little in awe of her."

No one on the Hill had any complaint, because Yevna became a skilled hunter and trapper. She shared her prizes with everyone.

People still found her unusual - there weren't very many women who ran the woods. And then there was the striking gap where her front teeth should have been. But they were certainly grateful when she provided them with fresh meat.

***

Tanguiste didn't grow up to resemble her mother exactly. She had the same bright hazel eyes, the same pale, flawless skin. But her face was a little narrower than Meonwe's. She was also a fair bit shorter.

She wouldn't be as great a beauty, but Tanguiste was very pretty. Maybe it was those small imperfections that endeared her to people. Because for some reason, everyone on the Hill liked her.

Even Seva, who was snarky and difficult at the best of times, couldn't find a bad word to say about her.

Somehow, Tanguiste found time to visit Moruith almost every day, and spend time with her. Inisian's mother had begun to age rapidly, and she was very glad of the company, while her son hunted or watched the borders of our little hamlet.

Tan also managed to become friends with virtually everyone. They came to her for advice, or asked her for help - regardless of the nature of the task. She had unerring instincts: somehow, Tanguiste always knew what to do.

- "Are you serious?" said Hedyn, when I remarked that I didn't understand my middle daughter.

- "What do you mean?"

- "Veran - she's lovely. And kind. And good. There's not a man on the hill that's not completely in love with her. 'Cept you, 'cause you're her father. And 'cause you're blind." he said. "Honestly! I'm married, and I'm still a little in love with her."

I resolved to watch my daughter a little more closely. Somehow, I suspected that she would be the first of my brood to marry.

***

Guenna was the least fortunate of my girls. She ended up resembling me.

While Yevna roamed, and Tanguiste helped everyone on the Hill, Guenna followed me about. She was at my heels, wherever I went. I couldn't complain too much, because I was never in danger.

When I sent her away, Guenna went to keep Sulcen company. On occasion, she was able to get Sulcen to answer questions. But when Tanguiste convinced her that my new wife liked to be alone, sometimes, Guenna was quick to take the hint.

She took up archery.

The results weren't particularly impressive. She did ask me for help, and with a few tips, she was able to improve her power, and especially her accuracy.

***

I was mildly surprised to find that I got along with most everyone on the Hill. I thought they might hate me for what had happened to the Nadestis, or that they might resent me for bringing Bacho's men to their doorstep.

But most of them saw me fight against the boatmen, and knew by now that I was committed to ensuring their safety. The fact that my daughters came with me, and soon won over virtually everyone on Prospal didn't hurt.

Vingoldas and I found the two best vantage points over the river, and stationed scouts there - children, or young women, for the most part. We didn't have enough people to place them in pairs, since we needed two more watching the approaches through the forest, to the south.

How to keep them awake, and alert? These weren't trained warriors, or experienced hunters. How could we impress on them the need to remain vigilant? It was one thing to preach at them - but when they spent day after day watching the river, or the trees, it was natural for their attention to wander.

It was Guenna who came up with a partial solution.

- "What if you designate two of the children as 'sneakers'? Treat it as a game." she said.

- "Sneakers?" said Vingoldas.

- "Have them try to sneak up on the watchers. If they can touch them, before they're discovered ... you can reward them. Or you can punish the watchers who fail to catch the sneakers - if you see what I mean."

- "Guenna - that's brilliant." I said.

It truly was. A person watching for enemies would remain alert, knowing that one of the children might be trying to sneak up on them. The youngsters would also learn to move silently, and to use cover.

You could argue that our scouts wouldn't be paying attention to the real threat - the chance that enemies would find a way up the hill. But that wasn't our greatest problem. Boredom and fatigue were more dangerous.

- "That is a good idea." said Vingoldas. He looked at Guenna with new respect. "If we put you in charge of the ... 'sneakers', could you organize it?"

Guenna blushed. "I can try."

We tried to find flaws with her idea, but the positive aspects far outweighed the drawbacks. Vingoldas made sure that everyone knew whose idea it had been. Guenna walked a bit taller from then on.

- "Thank you." I said to him.

- "For?"

- "Giving my daughter the credit. She appreciates it."

- "She deserves it." he said. "While we're on the subject ... thank you, too."

- "For?"

Vingoldas looked me in the eye. "For the way you deal with me." he said.

- "I don't understand." I said. That was simple truth - I didn't know what he meant.

- "You treat like me an equal, Veran." he said. "You don't give me orders. You don't talk down to me. And you always ask my opinion."

I was confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

Vingoldas looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

- "You're Hammerfist. One-Eye. My only claim to fame is running away from the fight where the Nadesti brothers died."

- "Ah." I understood, a bit. "You don't understand how I see it, Vingoldas. You're the man who kept this place safe, for years, before we arrived. You shouldered all of the responsibility, did everything necessary by yourself, or with little help."

"I didn't come here to replace you - to take your place. I'm here to assist you."

- "I think you're sincere, Veran - and for that as well, I thank you." he said. "But you're the leader here. Inisian is your man, however much independence you give him. And Hedyn still loves you. You only have to snap your fingers, and he'd come running."

- "He admires you, too." I said. "And Weyl and Seva look to you, first. I'm not trying to wean them away from you."

- "I believe you." he said, softly.

- "Then there's no reason why we can't help each other. Co-leaders, if you will."

- "Until we face a crisis." he said. "Then, we'll need a single leader."

- "Are you sure? We've worked well together, up till now." I said.

Vingoldas nodded. "True enough. But if there's a need for rapid decisions, I'll defer to you."

- "We'll see." I said.

***

Once, in the spring, eight warriors searched the southern edge of the Hill. They didn't find a way up the slope.

They came back in the summer. They were more determined, too.

It just so happened that Tanguiste was on watch that day. She decided - correctly - that it was more important to let us know what was going on, than to remain at her post.

Vingoldas and I answered her urgent summons right away. Weyl arrived next, with his sister, Seva.

- "Hedyn's on his way." he said.

- "Inisian? Yevna?" asked Vingoldas.

- "I don't know."

Vingoldas and I watched, from a concealed position - like a hunter's blind. We could see the men below, but we remained completely hidden from them.

That's when I caught sight of him. Bacho's son: Kestutis.

Kestutis was bare-chested. His long blonde hair, wet with sweat, stuck to his shoulders. His beard was long enough, now, to braid.

My fingers twitched. The urge to kill him was so powerful, I could taste it in the back of my throat. It was a good thing that I didn't have a bow; I'm not sure that I could have resisted the temptation to put an arrow in him.

But even had I hit him - it would have meant the death of everyone on the Hill. There were eleven men down below, and there was no possible way that we could kill all of them. If a single man escaped, Bacho would return with twice as many killers, to hunt us down.

I could only watch, for now.

They had brought a rope.

Eleven men, and a rope. This was dangerous. Kestutis and another brawny fellow took turns climbing the slope. They went only ten to twelve feet, and then wrapped their rope around the trunk of a tree. Then the next man took his place, and repeated the procedure.

- "Shit!" hissed Vingoldas.

- "They won't make it to the top." I whispered. "Rope's too short."

- "Still -"

The rope snapped when Kestutis tried to pull his way forward. He slipped, and slid back down the slope, until he slammed into a tree trunk. There was considerable swearing down below.

Vingoldas and I sighed in unison.

We spent the remainder of that day - and the next - watching as Bacho's son and his men tried to scale the steep side of Prospal hill. The fact that they didn't come close to succeeding was reassuring. But their persistence was troubling.

On the morning of the third day, they gave up, and moved on.

Yevna and Inisian had been hunting. When they returned, and she heard that Kestutis had been nearby, Yevna glared at me.

- "Don't blame me." I said. "We couldn't find you."

A few minutes later, I turned around to ask her a question. Yevna was gone.

- "Where is she?" I asked Inisian.

- "I don't know." he said. "She didn't say a word to me."

- "She's going after Kestutis." said Guenna.

Damnation! It was just the sort of the thing Yevna might do. Would do. She had sworn an oath to kill Kestutis. There was no use searching for her - we didn't know which way Kestutis had gone.

I spent a horrible week - six days, to be exact. Each night, I worried that Yevna had risked too much, that she had been killed - or worse, captured. Sulcen understood my tossing and turning, my inability to sleep. She wrapped her arms around me, and tried to share my fears and my worries.

On the seventh day, Yevna was sleeping in the bed she shared with Tanguiste and Guenna when I woke up. Her sisters had not disturbed her. They were wide awake, sitting at our table.

I was not so nice. I grabbed Yevna by the shoulder, and shook her.

- "Where were you?" I demanded. "What were you thinking?"

She snapped awake, and her hand shot out, like lightning, to seize my arm. Her eyes met mine. For a brief moment, I didn't recognize her.

- "I followed them." she said.

- "What?"

- "They tried the forest to the west, but they couldn't get through. Then they reached the marsh, and they tried to cross it. Finally, they gave up. But they worked their way north-east, and found the river."

- "Yevna." I said. "I was afraid ... that you'd try to kill him."