The Vampire Memoirs
Page 6
"Well…" I began, "They're gone now. They didn't get your money, did they?"
"No," she said, sniffling. "No, they didn't, thanks to you. Yes, I must thank you for this. I think they surely would have killed me if I hadn't—Oh, I'm sorry for knocking you down, but—"
"That's all right," I insisted. "At first I thought you were some thief yourself, or a drunkard."
"I was running, and I didn't see you, and—"
"I said, it's all right," I repeated. "I'm not cross with you. They were the ones who angered me," I added, referring to the boys.
"I should repay you somehow," she insisted.
"You don't need to repay me—really," I said, now a little irritated with her. "So if you haven't been hurt, I need to finish my errands…"
"Yes," she said. "Yes, that's what I need to do also."
"Well, perhaps you should stay by me, in case they want to get their revenge on you," I suggested, not really sure why I was actually saying this to her.
"By you?" she asked.
"Uh—" I said, suddenly aware of my words. "Um—Oh, why not? They could be waiting for you to be alone. At least this way they won't dare attack you again."
"You mean you would give me escort through the streets? After you've already saved me?"
"Oh, stop dwelling on that. Just—well, either come with me now or just sit here in the alley, I don't care."
"Yes," she said, smiling. "Yes, I will go with you, stranger. Yes, thank you." I made my way toward the end of the alley, and the girl followed me like some merry puppy.
"But tell me; what is your name, if only to let me know who to thank?"
Strange, this girl, I thought. Nevertheless, there was something about her, something that sparked some interest in me about her. "Mara," I replied.
"Maaare-a," she repeated, letting my name roll around on her tongue. "I like that name. I like it much better than mine."
"Which is?" I asked.
"Leta," she replied. "Not a very nice name, is it?"
"I see nothing wrong with it," I said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, it's all right, I suppose," she said. "But yours is pretty."
Pretty. I had never heard my name referred to as "pretty," and her words struck an uncomfortable chord in me. We continued on in silence for a few moments, I lost in my thoughts, and the girl Leta kicking sand and rocks around as we walked.
"I was wondering, ma'am," the girl broke in suddenly. "You don't wear the normal garb of other women here. Are you from Castrill? If not, is this how the women dress where you're from? Surely you couldn't be a soldier."
"No, I'm not a soldier," I grumbled, irritated by her prying questions. "But I am a warrior."
"A warrior," she repeated. "Are they better than soldiers?"
"I think so," I muttered.
"Ohh," she said in wonderment. "And your husband doesn't mind this?"
"Of course he doesn't mind!" I snapped. "He's a warrior himself. And by the way, I don't like—Say, how did you know I was married?"
"Well, you have a ring," she explained. "And—well you show other signs of wedlock," she added, pointing out my belly.
I touched it in embarrassment. "Is it really that obvious?" I asked.
"I don't think so," she said. "But I have many younger brothers and sisters, so I can see it in women early on, I think. And you know, I was even with my mother at her last birthing!"
"Really."
"Yes; it was my youngest brother. It was very exciting, but messy, I thought."
"Oh," I said. "And how is she now?"
"Who?"
"Your mother."
"My mother? Oh, fine, fine. She jokes that she's used to it by now. But there's always so many of us at home that I'm glad when they send me on errands."
"Really."
For reasons which were not entirely clear to me at the time, I invited this strange puppy-girl over to our hovel for supper. She declined at first, arguing that she "owed" me too much already, but after arguing with her for some time, she eventually gave in to my insistence. It surprised me later that I had actually been so adamant about being nice to someone, but I chose to put it out of my mind and fret about it some other time.
Leta insisted that she receive permission from her parents first, but only after she had rattled on and on to them about the aid I had given her, and had received a promise from me that she would be escorted home, did they comply. The idea that there would be one less mouth to feed probably helped sway them, as well.
When we returned from our errands, Leta insisted on helping me prepare the dinner, saying that she was the one who always helped her mother the most in this. But reluctant as I was to perform the "woman's work" of the household, I was even more reluctant to accept help from others when I didn't feel that I needed it. This girl was a hurricane of enthusiasm and helpfulness, however, and soon I found myself standing away and watching her do all the work.
I was in the bedroom puttering over something or other when I heard Gaar return home. I decided to finish what I was doing before greeting him, but then I forgot that Leta was in the other room, and that he hadn't met the girl.
"Uh—hello; what is this? Who are you, girl? What are you doing here?" I heard him say in surprise. Instantly I bolted into the room to save her from having to defend herself.
"Oh! Gaar! Hello!"
"Hello," he answered, then pointed at the girl. "Mara, who—?"
"Leta," I jumped in. "This is Leta. I invited her over."
"I didn't mean to startle you, sir," she interrupted. "I… I only thought to help your wife cook for you."
"I invited her," I said again.
"Oh," said the confused Gaar, "uh, certainly. If you were invited, then stay as our guest. But why are you preparing the meal?"
"She won't let me do it, that's why," I shrugged.
"I feel I at least owe her that, for saving my life and all," she added.
"I told you to forget about that," I protested.
"Saving your life?" he asked her, then to me, "Did you really?"
"It was only these three boys," I explained.
"They meant to kill me, I'm sure of it! They're horrid boys who are always tormenting me, and today they tried to steal from me. But I kicked one of them and fled. Then I ran down the alley where Mar—I mean, your wife, here—was walking, but I wasn't watching where I was going and knocked her down."
"Leta, he doesn't need to know this—"
"No, no, it sounds interesting," Gaar interrupted. "Go on, girl."
"I didn't mean to hit her like that, but they were chasing me, and—"
"I'm not angry with you, Leta. I asked you here, didn't I?"
"Yes. Yes, sorry. Well, those three boys caught up to me then, and Gareth—the eldest of them—held out a knife to me! And then your wife took them all, and tossed them around like dolls, and frightened them away with her sword! And then she even escorted me around the city so they couldn't try and take vengeance on me!"
I was tired of hearing this girl babble on about me, but Gaar stood and faced me; only I noticed he wasn't smiling.
"Knives?" he said. "You got into a fight with boys with knives?"
"Oh, only one of them!" the girl cried. "But she defeated all three of them so easily that—"
"How could you let yourself get into a fight of all things?" Gaar continued.
"Why so angry all of a sudden?" I asked. "There were only these three stupid boys—"
"But you can't be fighting in your condition!" he cried.
"What? What 'condition'?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Mara!" he roared, and was about to roar some more when he realized Leta was there. Quickly he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into our bedroom.
"How could you be so stupid as to get into a fight in your condition? What if you'd been hurt? Eh? What would happen to the child, then?"
"What was I supposed to do? Let them cut her throat and steal her money? Let them steal mine, too?"
"You think I'm helpless, don't you?" I said. "You think I'm some feeble-minded invalid, don't you, Gaar?"
"I didn't say that! I never said that! You know exactly what I meant So long as you carry one of my children, you're not to go running around looking for fights!"
"I didn't look for any fights! They attacked me!"
"That's besides the point! Just don't—Please just promise me that you'll be more careful from now until the baby is born. All right? Will you promise me that?"
It's too bad Gaar was too much of a butthead then to understand what had happened, but I promised him to "be more careful" just to keep him happy. So this is what marriage is all about, I thought.
Leta was understandably worried when we emerged from the bedroom.
"I hope I haven't caused any trouble for you," she said to me.
"No," I said. "You've done nothing wrong."
"Sir? I didn't mean to get her involved with those boys. It was all my fault. She was really very brave—"
"We blame you for nothing, girl," Gaar said. "I suppose she only did what had to be done. But it won't happen again, right, love?" He put his arm around me, but I gave no answer.
"Well…" Leta began, "I think the food is ready. I can serve for you, if you like…"
"No," I replied. "No, really, you don't need to help me like this. I only need to prepare the table," I said, opening our rinky-dink cupboard where our too-few plates and dishes were. I took out the number we needed, but Leta took them all from my hands as soon as I had them out and began placing them around the table. I made a noise in protest, but then Gaar cleared his throat and waved me over.
"This has always been my job at home," she explained. "It's no trouble for me."
"But—"
"Oh, let her do it, love," Gaar interjected. "She only wants to pay you back for helping her."
"This isn't even paying back my debt," she insisted. "This is light work compared to trying to feed my family."
"You have a large family?" asked Gaar.
"Yes—seven children in all," she said. "That, and my grandfather, my father, and my mother."
"Ten mouths to feed," said Gaar, impressed. "Perhaps we'll have as many children." I stared at him in shock at these words, but he seemed to take no notice of my consternation. He wanted ten kids from me?
"There always seems to be so much busyness at home," she continued. "You may not want so many children, in the end."
"You are not unhappy with so many at home, are you?" he asked.
"Oh, no," she insisted. "No, not really. I love everyone in my family. It is only—only that I often wish to be alone, and it's so hard to be alone with so many about."
"Ah," he said, then turned his attention to me. "You always wanted to be alone when I was around," he said.
"Does this hold true now?"
"Uh, not really," I replied. "Not anymore, at least. But this girl makes me feel both lucky and unfortunate."
"How so?"
"Well, I never had much trouble being by myself, when I wanted to be. But then, when I wanted someone to talk to, there was usually no one there. At least she has a family to talk to."
"Yes," he agreed, suddenly solemn. "She has a family."
"But I have you now," I added.
"So you do," he agreed, coming out of his sudden solemn mood. "Yes, you know that you can always tell me your troubles, and secrets," he assured, patting my stomach, "especially the important ones."
"I'm sorry," I said, holding my belly, "I meant to tell you soon—really I did. It's just—"
"Well!" the girl interrupted, slapping her hands together once. "All is ready, I think. You can eat whenever you like, sir—ma'am."
All was ready. With maniacal speed this bouncing, enthusiastic puppy-girl had laid out the entire table—the plates, bowls, cups, food, serving implements—everything was ready. Smiling, Gaar took me by the hand and led me to my chair, where he let me sit first. Leta waited for him to be seated before seating herself.
As we feasted, I quickly took notice of how polite this girl was. She waited for each of us to serve ourselves first, and even after this she ate tiny portions compared to ours—especially Gaar's. She would not take extra helpings until she had obtained our permission first, and she continued to call him "sir" and me "ma'am" or "lady," even after I tried to tell her that I wasn't used to such formalities.
After our dinner she asked to be allowed to help dear the table and dean the dishes. I explained that only one person could clean the dishes with the tub we had, so she offered to do it herself. I tried to protest all this doting and fussing over me, but Gaar called me over to him. I watched her lug the tub outside to clean everything; then I sighed and shook my head in frustration.
"That girl is mad," I remarked. "What sort of guest is she, who won't even let us treat her like one?"
"It seems to me she's just gotten caught up in the events of today," Gaar offered. "You did risk life and child to save her, after all."
"I wish you'd stop belaboring that," I protested. "I only frightened off some stupid boys. They were probably half my age."
"But old enough to carry knives with them. Besides, it looks like the girl admires you."
"Admires me," I grumbled. "What's there to admire about me?"
"Oh, you have some qualities," he said, brushing the hair from my eyes. "You just don't notice them yet."
"Such as?" I asked.
"Oh—perhaps later," he said. "Meanwhile, I'd say this girl is about as stubborn as you are. Perhaps even more so."
"Impossible," I denied. "No one's as stubborn as I am."
"That's true," he said. "That's why she's outside, cleaning our dishes, and—" he continued, poking my nose, "that's why you so stubbornly agreed to marry me."
He sat there laughing at me, and although I knew he was right, I slapped him in the chest for teasing me.
Chapter 6
Relations with Westmont were faring poorly. The harvests there had not grown well, and the denizens of Castrill were becoming more worried about possible raids, and the city grew tense. Taran and Gaar continually beseeched the magistrate for more money for the Army, but to little avail, as usual. The magistrate's answer was that the city's taxes just couldn't support the increasing demands of the Army. Gaar and Taran's position was that the Army was barely at subsistence level with its present funds—little more than a militia. Tetulius did what he could for his army, but it was not his job to support the military entirely on his own wealth; his job was to run it.
Nevertheless, working with Taran, Gaar was able to achieve minor miracles with the motley assortment of soldiers. Having been a wanderer for some years then, Gaar had seen the best and worst of combat techniques, and he succeeded in passing on the best of them to the men, including Taran. Gaar is an incredible teacher: patient, enthusiastic, friendly, but always firm. The men took to him and looked up to him, and, while Gaar's official rank was not equal to Taran's, he might as well have been the general himself for all the respect they had for him. Under Gaar's training and discipline, the men were more willing to work under the worsening conditions. Unfortunately, this only reinforced the magistrate's belief that the Army was doing well enough on its own; why give more money if they were improving already? But then, the improvements also caught the eye of Tetulius, who then took on Gaar as the Army's official trainer. This was basically little more than the position of drill sergeant, but Gaar also received a nice increase in pay out of the general's own pocket, which suited us just fine.
Meanwhile, the days went on, and my belly got larger. Leta borrowed an old maternity smock from her mother, and I had little choice but to wear it, even though it was far too short. Leta by now had taken to joining me once a week in my errands, and we wandered abo
ut the marketplace together. We must have made the oddest pair: the giddy puppy-girl skipping around with the pregnant woman whose smock barely went below the knees. I'm surprised we weren't laughed at as we went about our shopping.
In my eighth month or so Leta started carrying everything for me. Despite my size I felt far from helpless, but she usually just snatched my sack from me and lugged it over her shoulder. I think I gave up protesting her politeness the first night I met her.
Along with the increasing size came increasing anxieties. People were treating me as though I were helpless, and I was increasingly frustrated by the physical problems that came with pregnancy. I was sick of the backaches, sick of having to sleep on my back all night without moving, sick of not even being able to stand up without using my arms or a helping hand. And Gaar was the worst of all about my "helplessness." As far as he was concerned I should have lain in bed all day and have Leta do everything for me. We got in many arguments about this; he suggested that we simply pay her to help out, but I knew that she had her own problems without having me to worry about. I also knew that she would have helped in an instant if I'd asked her, but I refused to take advantage of her kindness.
Another concern which I was never able to voice decently was that I was terrified that I wouldn't survive even my first child. My own birth was so complicated that it killed my mother, and how was I to know the same thing wouldn't happen to me? The only way I could know for certain was to actually give birth, and pray that I lived. So the bigger I got, the more anxious I became, and I began making some silent prayers to my mother, begging her forgiveness for what I'd done, and I even pledged to raise her grandchild the very best that I could in her name, if only she'd let me live.
Westmont decided to attack the city. Fortunately, spies had been sent on both sides, and the attack did not come as a surprise. The Castrillian Army knew when the other side was forming, and Tetulius was to lead the men out to meet the enemy and thus spare Castrill any pillaging and plundering. If Westmont won, however, the pillaging would come, anyway.