The Shore of Women

by Pamela Sargent

  “I would speak to him.”

  Yerlan was soon hastening toward me from his dwelling; he bowed and sat down. I tried not to think of what he had done to Nallei. Some of my guards on the island had often commented enviously on Yerlan’s handsome face and well-formed body, but I could see no beauty in him, only a man whose strength had made him brutal.

  “It is My wish,” I said, “to spend some time with My messenger and to visit the land that lies around this camp. We shall ride out today.”

  “It will be as You wish, Lady, but You would be safer here.”

  “I shall be safe enough with My messenger.”

  He scowled. “If any harm comes to You, he will pay for it.”

  “And because you have shown Me such hospitality before,” I said, “I would dine with you and your hunters when I return.” I struggled to keep my bitterness and hatred for him out of my voice. “But I ask only that you give Me what you would eat by yourselves, and not a feast more suitable for a special occasion. The Lady is not well served if the band She honors takes food from other mouths to feed Her, for it is Her wish that your fine band has enough for all.”

  He brightened at that, then sent one of his men to fetch Arvil, who, it seemed, was at the edge of the camp gathering herbs and plants with Wirlan. Another man was sent to speak to the sentries beyond the camp so that Yerlan could be certain no travelers were near.

  We rode out from the camp on Flame and Star, keeping to the trail before leaving it to stop in a glade. “There are no sentries here,” Arvil said as we dismounted. “We can speak freely. There is something I must tell you.”

  “What is it?”

  His hands moved nervously over his bow. “The one who dwells with you… I know now what the ceremony of the full moon is. She…”

  “I know what happened, Arvil.”

  “She joins with Yerlan, and sometimes with others. She calls them to her, yet she said there is to be no joining for you. What does this mean?”

  “She’s protecting me. That’s why she said that.”

  “But you told me what would happen if I joined with you. Isn’t the same thing true for her?”

  “There are ways…” I burst out before falling silent. I would be admitting that what I had told him about these matters was not entirely true. “She’s older,” I said at last. “She can have no children now. A man’s seed can no longer grow inside her.”

  “But…”

  “Why must you speak of this? Are you hoping she’ll call you? There’s no pleasure in it for her. She endures it because she must, but she hates the men for it as much as I would.”

  He gazed at me steadily. “She is fair, but I don’t hope for that. You know who it is I long for, but if it cannot be, I can take comfort from knowing you are safe from others. I think of you lying with Yerlan or with other men, and I feel such rage that I would kill anyone in this band, even those who are becoming friends.”

  “Arvil…” I touched his arm. He reached for my hand and held it for a moment. “You mustn’t think about this. I need your help now. There’s much I have to learn. You must teach me the language of these men and show me how to use this spear and bow.”

  He smiled at last. “I shall try.”

  It became my practice to go into the forest with Arvil as often as possible. He had seen that his spear and bow would not do for me, and so I practiced with weapons he had made for Tulan. It was good that we practiced in secret, for the band would have thought little of my powers and my dignity if they had seen me struggling with the bow or had watched my arrows drop only a pace or two away. My efforts with the spear often reduced Arvil to laughter.

  I did, however, grow more skilled with the sling, since that weapon required skill and accuracy rather than strength. A day came when I aimed at a rabbit and struck it, but my joy at finding the target faded when I picked up the creature’s tiny body. I would never match Arvil’s skill with the bow and could not hurl the spear as far, but gradually I grew a bit more practiced with those weapons.

  Occasionally Tulan rode out with us, and Arvil swore him to secrecy about these sessions. The boy was happy to keep the secret, and being asked to come with us had raised him even higher in the estimation of the other boys. With Tulan, I learned how to block blows and how to use my arms and legs in a fight, although it took several days to convince him that he was not being disrespectful if he used his full strength against me. Tulan, like all boys, had learned to fight at an early age, and I soon bore the bruises of his efforts.

  It was, I knew, also better to learn these skills with Tulan instead of Arvil. Arvil was strong enough to injure me severely without meaning to do so, but I also feared provoking him with so much bodily contact. Whenever he moved my fingers along the bow or spear into a proper grip, I saw that he prolonged the touch and welcomed it. Tulan was still too young to feel such impulses and could lock his arms around me with no other thought than trying to keep me from breaking his hold.

  Because I did not want others to resent any favor I showed Arvil and Tulan, I also spent time listening to Yerlan and others tell me of their deeds. I presided over contests among the boys and went with them when they gathered berries or hunted for stones to make into points. I walked among the gardens and listened as the plant tenders told me of their crops.

  All of this brought me to the camp nearly every day, and after almost a month, Nallei agreed to come with me. She smiled when I told her what I was learning, scolded me when she noticed my bruises or strained muscles, but finally grew curious enough, or lonely enough, to accompany me.

  She had not been on a horse since before her exile but was able to ride on Flame with me when I went into the wood with Arvil and Tulan. She refused to learn the use of weapons, but watched while I practiced. At first, she laughed at my mistakes, but as the days passed, she grew more solemn. Often she glanced from Arvil to me, and a thoughtful look would pass over her face.

  Several days after she had first begun to come to the camp with me, I was chiding her as we prepared supper in our hut. “Surely you could try the sling,” I said as I set wild onion around our cooked fish. “Arvil can make one for you. You might need the skill someday.”

  “I won’t need it here.”

  “Life is uncertain out here, even on this lake. We might have to leave someday.”

  “There would be nowhere to go.” She gazed at me over the fire. “And I wonder if you would want to leave Arvil.”

  I stiffened. “He’s been a friend. I think he would follow me.”

  “I’m sure he would.”

  “Just what do you mean, Nallei?” I said, annoyed.

  “Do you think I’m blind? I’ve seen how he looks at you, and there’s no deference in his eyes. He’s not looking at a Holy One, but at a young woman. I think he sees what you really are. Perhaps he learned that during your travels. Maybe you told him more than you should have.”

  I sensed a threat in her words. “He’s no danger to you, Nallei. He’s happy with this band, and he’d do anything to protect me. He proved that during our journey many times.”

  “You’re saying that he loves you.”

  I pushed the stone platter of fish toward her. “He’s a friend,” I said at last.

  “His feelings will grow. A time may come when he can’t control them. Remember that there was one who tried to force himself on me. You may not mean to do so, but you lure him on by spending so much time with him. You’re often alone with him in that wood. You smile at him and let him put his hands on yours.” She sighed. “I’ll do nothing against him, girl, but you’d better decide if it might be wiser to avoid him as much as possible and let those feelings in him die.”

  The thoughts of having no moments with Arvil was more painful than I expected. “He’s only a friend,” I insisted. “It would hurt him if I began to avoid him. He’s done too much for me—he’s been kinder than anyone I’ve known except for you.”

  “What shall we do, Birana? He’ll need to ease what
’s inside him somehow. By the standards of men, he is handsome. More important, he seems to have a touch of intelligence and sensitivity. He might not be as brutal as others. I’ve been through so much that one more man won’t matter. I could summon him here. It might make matters easier for you.”

  “No!” I cried out without thinking. “I wouldn’t have you endure that for me,” I said more calmly, but I was also thinking that, when he saw her beauty, he would lose his feelings for me. Jealousy tore at me; I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from weeping. I was being a fool. I could give him nothing but would keep him from finding pleasures with her.

  I swallowed hard, then opened my eyes. Nallei studied me for a long time, then said, “Very well. I won’t summon him.” She picked up a piece of fish and began to eat.

  Throughout the summer, the camp was alive with activity as the men made preparations for the harder seasons that lay ahead. Plants had to be gathered and stored, the gardens had to be weeded and harvested, meat had to be butchered and smoked. Arvil and Tulan showed me how to recognize certain roots and plants, and we brought as many back to the camp as we could.

  I was unable to put Nallei’s warning from my mind, but all she had done was to make me more awkward when I was with Arvil. I started when he tried to guide my hand and lost some skill with the weapons. Sometimes I smiled at him inadvertently and looked away quickly when he responded with a grin. I tried to be distant but could not maintain that pose for long.

  He seemed troubled by my changing moods, but the work of the band left him little time to dwell on them. The men often went far from the camp to hunt for game, and Arvil would sometimes be gone with the hunters for three or four days at a time. This should have eased me, but my moods were no different when he was gone.

  Being idle for short periods of time offered too many chances for disturbing thoughts to plague me. I began to look for ways to aid the band. By midsummer, the men were going out in boats to gather wild rice along the shore and in small inlets. I went with them and watched as they paddled their boats into clumps of rice, pulled out clusters with their hands, and struck the plants with their paddles so that the seeds fell onto hides that covered the bottoms of the boats.

  When we returned to the camp, we carried the rice into the clearing and laid it out inside one dwelling to dry. I insisted on helping with this task and the men, after a few protests, allowed me to do so.

  One of the men was called Kirlan; he was a short, dark-skinned young man who had been sent to the island several times before. I motioned to him.

  “You will tell Me,” I said haltingly in the lake tongue, “what is now done with this rice.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Lady, does our speech now fall from Your lips? It is not worthy of You, for it is a poor speech compared to Your holy tongue.”

  “It is not a poor speech. I shall honor you by uttering it from time to time, but now we shall speak in My tongue.” I had learned some of their language by then, but was far from fluent. “What do you do with the rice now?”

  “It must dry for two or three days, and then it must be husked between the hands, so.” Kirlan rubbed his palms together. “Then it must be parched over a fire and stored until we need it.” He scratched at his dark, curly hair. “But the Holy One knows this already. Did not the Lady teach us all arts in ancient times?”

  “She did,” I replied, a bit taken aback, “but She wishes to see how well you have learned them and how the boys are instructed. I shall come here when it is time to husk the rice and will work with you.”

  He gaped at me. “But it is we who serve You. Your fellow aspect has never shared our toil.”

  “The Lady will share some of your work with you from now on,” I said firmly, “for She wishes to honor the band that has honored Her.” I searched my mind for another pompous phrase, since this was the sort of talk they expected. “My fellow aspect has watched over you and has not found you wanting, and the time has come for Us to aid you in whatever way these incarnations allow.” Nallei, I knew, was not going to be pleased by this new policy. “Let it not be said that the Lady does not return honor when honor is paid to Her.”

  Kirlan bowed, then hastened off to spread this news.

  Nallei complained, as I had expected, but I bullied her into coming with me to work; almost against her will, she soon took some satisfaction in the extra tasks. She learned how to scale fish and grew skilled at husking the rice. She cared little about easing the band’s burden in our small way but took some pleasure in knowing that a little of our food was the product of our own efforts. We walked together along the edge of the wood picking berries and helped the men store their dried meat.

  Nallei’s days were no longer as tedious, but she had worried that the band might lose their respect for us if we worked at their side. Instead, we seemed to inspire them. They redoubled their efforts to prepare the camp for colder weather, laboring from dawn until nightfall. The gardeners swore that their plots had never yielded so many plants; the hunters exclaimed that deer willingly accepted their arrows and that wildfowl landed at their feet, while those who fished claimed that fish leaped into their boats. Even the trapping of a large and dangerous wild boar that had begun to forage nearby was attributed to our presence among the men.

  Nallei grew slimmer and stronger and glowed as though her body were, even without the techniques of our cities, rejuvenating itself. We still swam nearly every morning before crossing to the camp, and often we returned to our hut too tired to do more than fall onto our mat to sleep. Whenever I saw Arvil now, others were usually with us, and we did not often go into the wood alone to practice with spears and bows. It was easier for me not to think of him at other times.

  Only the full moon ceremonies marred this season. Nallei drank heavily on those days; I looked on sadly as her boat drifted away from the island. I had solitude then, too much time to dwell on thoughts of Arvil. My illness of the mind had the most power over me then. I saw his gray eyes, heard his voice, felt his hand on mine, and cursed the world for not having made him a woman I might love.

  In early fall, spots of color began to appear amid the trees on the hills around the lake. The oaks were beginning to change. Nallei and I kept to the island, wanting to enjoy as much time in the cove as possible before it grew too cold for swimming.

  Guards came to the island and left it. Used to seeing me among them, they spoke more easily with me now, but they still used terms of respect. Wirlan came once, although Yerlan rarely sent him in case his healing arts might be needed in the camp. He told me of what Arvil was learning from him but did not speak of the time he had tended Nallei. A red-haired man named Resilan gathered mushrooms for me under the island trees; a hunter named Aklan told me of his hunts. Nallei avoided these guards much of the time except when she needed a task done. I listened to their stories and tried to feel some kindness for them, although it was hard not to think of how they had used Nallei. I would have to live among them, whatever they were.

  I was following Resilan along the island shore when he pointed at a boat crossing the bay. “Your next guards come,” he said. “Holy Lady, it is Your messenger Vilan.”

  I lifted a hand to my throat; I had already seen Arvil’s blond hair. He would be here for two days, possibly three; we would have all of that time together. I told myself that I was only happy to see a friend, and yet warmth was already rising to my cheeks.

  “I see that You are pleased, Holy One,” Resilan said. I lowered my eyes, trying to compose myself. “I’ll tell the Headman of Your happiness, and perhaps he will send Vilan to Your island more often.”

  “You must not tell him that,” I replied warily. “I am as happy to see any of you. I’m as happy to see the Headman himself.” I wondered if Yerlan’s feelings toward Arvil had eased, if he was learning to trust him more.

  Tulan was in the boat with Arvil. I stood on a rock and watched as they dragged the boat ashore, then bid farewell to Resilan and his companion.

 
“The Headman chose us,” Tulan said as he came to my side. “He said that because You have sought our company before, it was right for him to send us to guard You.” He struck his chest with one fist. “And I’m the youngest one he has ever sent here.”

  Arvil was lifting a basket from the boat. He set it down and looked up as Tulan started to strut. “Be proud,” he said to the boy, “but do not brag.” He stood up and gazed at me. “Since You have let him tend Your horses, perhaps he grows too proud.” He spoke the words gently.

  “I am pleased to see you,” I said, as stiffly as I could, but was unable to keep all my joy out of my voice. My mind was darting from one thought to another; I wished I had put on another shirt, trimmed the curls around my face, or worn Nallei’s necklace of feathers.

  “I am pleased to see You,” he said softly.

  “The horses are well,” Tulan said. “More of the boys ride them now, and Wild Spirit is not so wild.”

  “Greetings, Holy One,” Arvil said suddenly.

  I turned. Nallei had come down the trail and now stood on the slope above us. “So you are to be Our guards now,” she said. “Greetings, Tulan and Vilan—or perhaps I should continue to call you Arvil as My companion does.”

  Tulan bowed; Arvil stared at her a moment before lowering his head. “You may call me whatever You wish.”

  She glanced from Arvil to me. I gestured awkwardly at the basket. “Arvil and Tulan will carry up this food,” I said.

  Nallei did not reply right away. She’s going to summon him, I thought; she’ll do it to protect me. At last she said, “The boy and I can carry that, and he can tell Me what he has been learning. Perhaps You might show Arvil Our island, since he has not been here before.”

  I was bewildered. She had talked of protecting me before; now, she was leaving me alone with Arvil. She walked toward the basket and lifted one end as Tulan picked up the other.

  As they walked up the trail, I motioned to Arvil. “We’ll walk along the shore,” I said. “I’ll show you the cove where we swim.” I had learned more of the band’s language and continued to speak in that tongue as we circled the island. I spoke of our hut, of a patch where blueberries grew, of the ducks that would soon fly away from the bay, and kept my eyes averted from him. I had nearly run out of words by the time we reached the cove.