by M. J. Haag
* * * *
The next morning, we worked together to load the wagon, which Splane had driven over at dawn. Bryn made no comment about Tennen’s whereabouts. With the back loaded with books carefully packed in crates and covered with oiled cloth, Father eyed the dark skies.
“We’d best be off,” he said to my sisters. He handed me his lesson plan for the day, hugged me farewell, and climbed aboard to take the reins. They left me standing by the cottage door, and only Father gave a backward glance.
“Watch for us near dinner,” he called before they disappeared into the trees.
I walked the path to the schoolhouse, warily watching for Tennen and Splane, unsure if the blunt silver had helped our relationship or not. When Splane dropped off the wagon, he’d spent so much time gaping at Bryn, he hadn’t spared me a glance. The Coalre boys couldn’t keep a secret, it would seem.
The butcher’s daughter, Magdaline, stood at the school doors waiting for me. Twelve and shy, she chirped a surprised greeting at me, her eyes wide.
“I’m teaching in my father’s place today,” I said with an amused smile. “I hope that’s okay.”
She nodded enthusiastically.
The day went quickly with only a handful of students in attendance. I followed my father’s lesson plan and enjoyed the children’s wit. It felt odd thinking of them as children when only a few years separated us.
Finally, I dismissed them and closed the schoolhouse doors. A steady rain fell outside. Walking the path in the evening light didn’t bother me as much as the rain did. I jogged along the path, reaching the cottage quickly. The kitchen felt cool and damp since the stove had gone out. I relit the fire and warmed my fingers before searching for something to eat.
A slight scrape on the floor alerted me that I wasn’t alone. Spinning, I watched Tennen take another step closer to me, having just come from Father’s study. His dry hair and cruel leer told me enough of his intentions that I knew I needed to run. Again. The door leading to the backyard waited to my left and the door to the front of the cottage to my right.
Frozen, we eyed each other. One chance. I cursed my dress, steeled myself, and feinted to the right. Tennen bolted into action, moving toward the front door as I shifted my weight and sprinted for the back.
Behind me, I heard him slip and curse, but I didn’t stop. The back door banged loudly against the outside wall as I shoved it open and flew into the rain. I hiked my skirts high to free my legs. North. Refuge. The rain-slicked ground slid easily underfoot as I tried to run. The sound of Tennen’s close pursuit set my heart racing. I’d never make it. I danced around the sparse trees and ducked under the occasional branch, panting and struggling to keep my footing while hoping Tennen wouldn’t.
A wall of mist stood before me, and I shouldered into it, losing myself for a moment.
The skirts grew heavier as they soaked up the falling rain, and my arms burned with their weight. I slid and fell forward, too late dropping the skirts as the ground rose to meet me. I landed hard on my stomach and my face hit the ground with enough force that it bounced. Thankfully, hitting the spongey ground didn’t hurt much.
Tennen, who’d been on my heels, tripped on my skirts before I could scramble to my feet and landed heavily atop me. The impact drove the air from my lungs in a great oof. We lay like an X on the ground, his torso crossed over mine, effectively pinning me.
He laughed above me.
“You never had a chance.”
I couldn’t answer. I could barely breathe with his weight on me. I tried struggling, but the mud that cushioned my fall made it impossible to do anything more than flail.
“Ho, ho! What’s this?” he said, touching one of my bared legs.
I struggled harder, but his hand just slid over my mud-coated skin, inching its way upward.
He put his free hand in my hair and pulled back hard, forcing me to arch off the ground. He leaned in toward my ear, never stopping his exploration. “No stockings? Naughty, Benella. Maybe I had the wrong sister.”
His hot breath fanned my cheek, and my anger boiled. I arched further back, trying to hit his head with my own as I’d done before. He laughed.
“Not this time.”
His fingers found the edge of my covering and slid underneath to stroke my buttocks. I screamed in fury, twisting sharply. The move pulled out some of my hair. He tried to hold me tight, but the mud and the rain made me too slippery to grip. I struggled further, clawing a handful of mud and decaying vegetation. Twisting, I slapped my handful of glop across his face, effectively blinding him. He grunted and pushed my head away, releasing my hair.
As he shifted to the side to wipe at his eyes, I took the opportunity and scrambled out from under him. Full of mud, I struggled to gain my feet and when I did, I slid more than I walked.
“You think you’re any different from the rest of us?” he cried.
“No,” I yelled back at him while looking for something I could use to bash him over the head. “How can I possibly be any different? Look at me.” The frustration over his blind, illogical hatred pooled in my blood.
“We all look at you,” he said. “You’re too good to look back. And when you do, it’s to look down your nose at us.”
He climbed to his feet, towering over me, hate plain on his face. His statement stunned me, and I stared at him with a frown. I’d never looked down on anyone. Had I? I gave what I could to the butcher to help those less fortunate. I’d even helped Tennen’s mother. How could that be looking down on anyone? I opened my mouth to protest but stopped when I felt something circle my waist. Tennen laughed as I looked down. Vines looped around me and began tugging me backward. Were they here to protect me and give me refuge? With the estate, I never knew what to expect.
My gaze flew to Tennen, and his eyes narrowed on me.
“How many times have you gone to the estate and walked away uninjured?”
“Never uninjured,” I said with a snort. I didn’t clarify that the injuries were due to him and his brother or self-inflicted.
The vines pulled, and I slid several inches along the ground. Another vine crept along the ground beside me, extending toward Tennen. He saw the vine and eyed me dispassionately.
“I hope you’re hurt even worse this time.”
Then he turned and walked away, leaving me behind.
I tried standing, but the vines didn’t loosen. The one that had crept toward Tennen curved and wrapped around me instead. The single vines twisted together to create a thick rope that hefted me into the air and once again moved me toward the estate in a slow shuffle.
Six
The vines deposited me just inside the firmly closed gate. Muddy rivulets ran from my clothes, and I tilted my face toward the falling rain to wash away the mud still clinging to my skin.
A voice from the gloom startled me.
“What would you have of me this time?” the beast asked.
I spotted a large, dark shape to my right and tried to focus on it through the rain as I began to shiver. The warmth I’d worked up from the run had left during the slow passage here.
“Refuge,” I said, stammering with cold. “I can’t return home until my father does.”
The beast grunted, and the shape to my right moved, growing larger as it rose from its crouched position.
“Follow me,” he said, moving into the falling darkness.
Hesitantly, I followed, wrapping my arms around myself as my wet skirts clung to my legs. His shape always remained far enough in front of me that I could never quite see him clearly. Eventually, a large structure loomed before us, its details hidden in the enchanted mist that filled the estate at its whim.
Ahead, something made a soft creak of protest. I followed the noise and found an open door leading to a vast, dark, cold room. I stepped inside, glad to be free of the rain.
“Light the fire and warm yourself,” his disembodied voice said from the darkness. “Walk straight ahead. You will find what you need.”
Arms extended, I shuffled forward in the dark until I touched stone. Running my fingers lightly along the porous surface, I discovered I stood before an enormous hearth. Head level, a stone mantel held what I needed to light the fire. I blew on my fingers to dry them before attempting a spark. It took several tries to start the waiting tinder; but when I did, I felt an overwhelming surge of relief. The tiny bit of light the small flame threw into the room helped dispel some of the gloom. I looked out into the wall of black surrounding me and wondered where he waited. The faint outline of the still open door was the only other object I could see outside the circle of light.
For the next several minutes, I fed the hungry flame. Soon, it cast enough heat that I could sit back on my heels and warm my hands.
“I will check for word on your father’s return. Stay here in your refuge,” he growled in a curiously angry tone. The door slammed closed.
Why had he gotten angry? Looking around, I saw nothing that might suggest an answer. Standing, I moved to the woodbin set back from the fire and took some larger pieces to place on the established flames. In a few minutes, only a few black shadows remained in the furthest corners of the room, and I clearly saw my surroundings.
I stood in a large kitchen, and it appeared as if it had been ransacked. Pots lay on their sides on the floor, a table near one wall had been splintered in two, and claw marks savaged just about every surface. My stomach dipped a little at the evidence not to trust the beast’s precarious kindnesses.
With the new light, I saw how caked with mud I remained. My dress was heavy with it, and it clung to my legs. The muck would itch when it dried. Walking around the kitchen, I found a hand pump for water and a large kettle with a handle. Doggedly, I worked to fill the kettle then struggled with its weight as I crossed the room and set it on the metal arm above the fire. Using a rod to nudge the arm, I swung the pot toward the back of the hearth so it dangled just above the dancing flames.
Searching again, I found a few cloths that appeared relatively clean and a very large wooden tub. I stared at the tub for a long while, debating. He’d promised refuge, but could I trust it enough to wash? No. I left the tub where it lay upside down in a corner of the room and fetched another pot of water.
I tried washing with the first tepid pot, but my dress was too coated with mud. Every time it touched a newly cleaned spot of skin, it left a mud streak. Sighing, I dragged the tub over to the fire. I filled it a quarter of the way with cold water and then dumped in a pot of boiling water. With patience, I slowly filled the tub halfway with water, then I stood staring at it. The mud on my scalp had dried, pulling my skin tight. I wanted to be clean but didn’t know when the beast would return. Eyeing the door, I went to the broken table and dragged half of it over to the tub. Standing on its short edge, it made a modest privacy screen. I could use it to dry my dress, too.
The water began to cool as I debated. I knew I shouldn’t. I would regret it without a doubt. Something bad would happen. Surely only an idiot would undress in a strange house with an angry beast lurking about. But he’d promised refuge. My scalp ached where Tennen had pulled out the hair, and the mud on my legs was making me itchy. Even with the fire blazing, it didn’t warm the room or dry me fast enough to drive away the chill.
The curling steam from the filled tub had me hurriedly undressing.
“Idiot,” I mumbled to myself.
A sigh escaped me as I sank naked into the water. With the hearth on one side and the table on the other to reflect back the heat, I relaxed a little. The tub was easily twice the size of the one we had at the cottage. I quickly ducked under the surface to rinse my hair. When I popped back up, I eyed the slightly dingy water. Rubbing my skin, I washed as best I could.
I was about to stand when the beast spoke from the darkness.
“How many times have I spared you?”
Like a startled hare, I froze, heart hammering. Blood rushed loudly in my ears, but still I strained to listen.
“Well?” he said in a growl.
“F-four,” I whispered.
“Four,” he agreed. “And I offered you any one thing you would have from the estate.”
Shifting to my hip, I cautiously looked around but couldn’t see him in either direction open to me. I looked at the table and could envision him crouched just behind it.
“What can you offer me in payment?”
“Payment?” I said, suddenly very afraid and wishing I hadn’t given the blunt silver away.
“Yes,” he said, growing annoyed. “Payment. What do you have?”
“Nothing,” I whispered in horror. Surely he couldn’t offer me refuge then fling me over the wall to my death because I hadn’t been aware it required payment.
A clicking growl echoed in the kitchen.
“Come now. Not nothing.”
My heart sank as I realized what he wanted.
“I am not payment.”
“And why not? Did I not care for you? Heal you?”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“Stand, so I can see you.”
“No,” I said, sinking lower in the water.
His angry roar filled the kitchen.
“You would deny me after all I’ve given you?”
“You mean what you gave me freely,” I said bravely. “You never asked me if I wanted to be healed. You gave that freely. I never asked you to spare me.”
“But I did offer you one thing,” he said.
“And forced me to accept it in order for my release. You cannot demand a price for things freely given.”
Smothering silence claimed the room for several awful, long minutes. The water began to cool. I continued to watch for the beast, but he made no sound. My fingers wrinkled.
“Are you still here?” I asked as my bravery began to fade.
“Yes,” he said with an angry growl.
“You offered me refuge. Please leave so I can dress.”
“No,” he said smugly. “I will not freely give you my absence. I will need payment to leave.”
I snorted before I could stop myself.
“Payment. To leave.”
“Yes. Stand so I can look at you.”
“I am not a whore.”
“How does rising from the water make you a whore?” He laughed.
Glaring at the table, I had no answer. It didn’t make me a whore, but I would feel used and cheap. I thought of my sister and cringed. I didn’t want to let anyone take advantage of me like that. The fire started to die down, the flames licking the wood receded until just a few remained to dance on top the red hot coals.
“You ask too much for too little in return,” I said.
“What would you have of me?”
His willingness to bargain gave me hope.
“A dry shirt to cover me. Something to eat if you have it.”
“Done,” he agreed too quickly. “Now stand.”
His impatience worried me.
“Not yet. I want to see the shirt you have to offer me.”
He roared this time.
“Do you think me a fool? When I leave to fetch it, you will rise from the water and dress.”
“Had I thought of that, I probably would have,” I admitted. I’d been too worried to think that far, but as soon as he would have left the room, I was sure I would have done just that. Given his anger, I was glad he didn’t leave and give me the chance.
“I will remain in this water until you return as long as it doesn’t take so long that the fire dies.”
Silence greeted me again. I waited a few moments and asked, “Are you there?”
No answer. Despite my promise, I considered rising from the water and dressing.
The sudden appearance of a shirt tossed over the jagged edge of the table startled me. The white material of the fine shirt seemed out of place against the wood. I quickly reached for it, but it disappeared over the edge again.
“Stand up. Now.” His angry growl sounded nearby.
I really h
ad no choice. I could sit in the water until I rotted or his anger got the better of him and he pulled me from the water regardless of his promise of refuge, or I could stand on my own and hope for the shirt.
“I’ll stand,” I said quietly, gripping the sides of the tub. “And when you feel you’ve shamed me enough, feel free to reward me with a shirt.”
I stood facing the table, hoping it would offer me a bit of modesty since it came to my waist. And it did until he flung it to the side. The dying fire and the long shadow I cast hid him again, and I hoped the lack of light hid me as well. I wanted to close my eyes but dared not. Instead, I looked down and stepped over the edge of the tub.
“Shame,” he whispered. “There is no shame in this. Only desperation.” He sounded slightly sad.
I didn’t have time to reflect on it because the shirt sailed out of the darkness and landed on my head, blinding me. The door opened and closed before I could pull it from my face. Quickly putting my arms through the sleeves, I threaded the buttons through their holes before turning to add more wood to the fire. As I guessed, I stood in the kitchen, alone once again.
My dress lay in a heap on the floor. I thought of putting it back on, but then wondered what I’d do. Unless my father had returned, there was as little safety for me outside the estate as there was inside. Sighing, I tossed my dress into the bath water. After rinsing it as best I could, I wrung it out and hung it over the edge of the table, which I again pushed close to the fire.
It took me a while to empty the tub with the bucket, but eventually I had all the water outside, and I turned the tub upside down and used it as a chair. The long shirt fell to the tops of my knees when I stood. When I sat, it rode a bit higher in back, but protected me enough that I didn’t have to sit bare bottomed.
My eyes grew heavy as I waited for the dress to dry, and the stack of wood beside the hearth grew smaller. My stomach growled, and I recalled my request for food. Standing, I searched for something on the kitchen shelves and found a surprising bounty of hard cheese and dried fruit. I took a small portion of each and sat back by the fire.
After about an hour passed, the door flew open again. My heart pounded within its boney cage, and I moved to turn around, but his words stopped me.
