Daughter of the Raven

by Cherime MacFarlane

  She knelt before Ying Hau and put one foot into the shoe with the sheepskin liner. Mam tightened the shoe then did the same with the other foot.

  Mam pushed herself to her feet and held out one hand to Ying Hau. "Give it a try dear."

  Ying Hau was not quite sure what the words meant but understood she was to attempt to stand and walk. She wobbled a bit but the cushion of sheepskin gave her deformed toes a soft place in which to rest. It would not be easy but with the man's help she might be able to look almost normal. It was necessary that she and the man hide.

  Ying Hau already understood their predicament. She had been fearful they would not understand how important it was to stay hidden. The master one would probably feel the man was guilty of helping her to escape.

  In a sense, he would be correct. Her main objective had been to either get away or die in the process. At the time it had not mattered which freed her. Life was preferable, but death had been acceptable.

  Ying Hau smiled at Abigail. This might work. With the broad brimmed hat Mam had provided and given her shorter stature, if she kept her head down it would be difficult to tell anything about her.

  Abigail smiled back at the girl, soon to be her daughter in law. "What does Ying Hau mean?" Abigail pointed to herself. "I am Abigail"

  She threw her arms wide then lifted them high to the sky. "I am exultant! Ying Hau is?"

  Not sure what was being asked Ying Hau sighed. There were some English words she knew. She had learned some on the way to this place on the boat. Other things, she was not sure of.

  The exercise ended when a voice from downstairs called to Ma'am. Ma'am motioned to her to "sit", which was a word she had learned the meaning of. Ying Hau sat on the bed and quietly put her hands in her lap.

  Ma'am, Abe gl. She thought to herself, went out the door. Ying Hau wondered when she would return.

  Ying Hau did not have to wait long. Abigail came back with the man and another man she did not recognize. The strange man spoke a few words to her in a dialect she did not speak. With a shake of her head, Ying Hau let him know she did not understand. He tried another language. With a broad smile, Ying Hau nodded, yes, this she could understand.

  She was told they would be getting married. Briefly, she questioned what that might mean to her. Once it was fully explained, Ying Hau bowed her head. Tears gathered in her eyes.

  The man gently lifted her head. He asked something which the other man translated. Ying Hau answered she was fine, but he did not need to go that far. The other man, the one who spoke her language somewhat, told her it was necessary if they were to be traveling together. He also explained her name was now 'Cherry Merriman' her new husband was 'Edward'."

  Ying Hau found she could manage 'Ed', but 'Merriman' was beyond her capabilities at the moment. She was told she would have to master the name and the word 'husband', which meant she would now be the wife of the man.

  Ying Hau was not sure of any of this. But the man, Ed, took her hand. Together they stood before the translator. He spoke words over them both. When he was finished, the man, Ed, lifted her head and kissed her. She had not been kissed before. Ying Hau found it was to her liking.

  Much more so, than some things she had been forced to endure upon coming to this country. Ed smiled as he patted her hand. The translator told her on the following day they would be leaving the city. Passage had been arranged. She was to obey the man, her husband, as he was now her protector.

  Everyone left for a time. Ying Hau settled herself in the small rocker near the bed. Certain something momentous had just happened, she was not sure how it would effect her. She fervently wished she could speak the barbarian's language better, but it would take time. Ying Hau sat in the rocker as she repeated the names 'Ed' and 'Cherry'. Again she went over her small stock of English words. It had been frustrating to know there was so much she was missing. In the rocker, eyes closed, she was repeating words and short phrases over and over when Charles found her.

  He brought up a tray of food. There was enough for the both of them. It also provided another opportunity for an English lesson.

  She made the most of it, insisting on going over the words until Ed told her she had done well. He led her over to the small bed in the nanny's room. Ed removed her shoes and she watched him smile at Mam's, no Abe gl's handiwork.

  Ying Hau used two fingers to lift the corners of her mouth.

  "Smile." He told her.

  "'Mile?" She asked as she pointed to his face.

  "No, smile" He drew the word out. She copied the set of his lips as he spoke.

  "Sm.ile." Ying Hau said it again, on the third try he nodded.

  The shoes were removed and placed on the floor at the foot of the bed. He helped her out of her clothing until she stood with only a chemise and underpants on. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ed drew her into the space between his legs. After removing the ribbons from her hair, he combed the heavy black mass of it through his fingers.

  When he reached down to lift her into his lap. She suddenly tensed. Realizing this would be difficult for her, Charles Edward set Cherry on her feet. Rising from the bed, he watched his wife. She tottered a few feet away to the very end of the bed. Sitting down, she turned away from him.

  Charles Edward wished he could talk to her. He didn't know how to reassure her that he would do her no harm. Cherry was given to him by God to cherish and protect. Charles Edward removed his shirt and sat back down on the bed. They could not stay here like this all night. They both needed rest for what was to be a difficult journey.

  He heard her sigh. The young woman rose from the end of the bed and moved to stand before him. Tears were running down her face as she made two fists and exaggeratedly pretended to tear the clothing from her body. Bowing her head she placed one arm across her breasts, with her other hand she pretended to cover her private parts.

  The tears became a flow. The bowed shoulders shook with the strength of her sobs. Closing his eyes in anger at what she had suffered, Charles Edward gathered her into his arms.

  He stroked the long fall of her hair. Sitting on the bed, he took her into his embrace. He did not try to stop the flow of tears. There were times when that was all one could do, cry out the grief and pain. Eventually they slid into bed and slept.

  In the early morning, after his father left for the office, Charles Edward Merriman and his new wife, Cherry, were driven to the harbor by his mother in the small buggy. They did not have much luggage. Abigail gave each of them a tearful kiss and sent them on their way, not daring to stay too long.

  By late afternoon Abigail finally managed to come to terms with the fact that she might not see her son or any of her grandchildren, ever. She was trying to get herself back into some semblance of order. Shortly she would have to face her husband with the news.

  Abigail knew he would not be pleased. She must rally herself. How much to tell him, was the problem. He was too volatile. Too ready to believe in his own ability and his God given rights as an American citizen.

  As she pondered what she could and should tell Mr. Keetering, a message was delivered for Charles. Abigail took it. On reaching the end of the note she knew she had one more unpleasant duty. Leontine Devins wished to speak with Charles. The messenger waited for a reply.

  Abigail wondered if she would ever be able to leave the house again but scrawled a reply on the bottom of the paper. The day after tomorrow, after one o'clock in the afternoon, at Mrs. Devins home would be good. She did not sign it, but sent the messenger off.

  Stanislaus was walking aimlessly on a Sunday afternoon. He was simply wandering along. Deep in thought, he had not realized the carriage was behind him until the horse was so close he could touch its flank. Startled, he glanced upward into the bright blue eyes of Elaine. He had not seen her in a very long time.

  In agony, shortly after Anya's marriage, he had gone to her establishment to drown his pain in drink. Elaine had taken him to her room when he was quite drunk. After extracting the sto
ry from him bit by bit, the woman had taken him to her bed.

  For the balance of the night and most of the following day, she had taught him things he could never have learned on his own, regarding the way to pleasure a woman. All the while, she told him how great a waste it would be, if he did not find a woman who would appreciate what he had to give.

  In the end, Stanislaus went home feeling guilty. Anya was the only one who should have felt his kisses, his touch. He had not gone back to see Elaine.

  She stopped the carriage beside him. There was no one else nearby.

  "Have you found someone?" Her blue eyes bored into him.

  "I have not. We have been told she is dead. I do not, cannot believe it." He had no reason to keep anything from her.

  As she twirled the parasol she carried, her eyes did not leave his face. "You have not even looked, young man, I still see the pain. Will you never give up Stanislaus?"

  Putting one hand out, he gripped her ankle gently. "I know you were trying to help, but, I cannot bring myself to look at another. She is all I have ever known, all I have ever wanted, from boyhood. Anya is part of my blood, my bone."

  She bent down, removed his hand from her ankle and laced her fingers with his for a moment, before releasing him. "And now you feel guilty for having allowed me to touch you. Ah, what is to be done with you? Rakov, I did not ask anything of you, there was no money exchanged between us. I gave to you freely, hoping to encourage you to find a good woman to love. I was trying to do a good deed for once."

  After removing his hat, Stanislaus smiled up at her. "I know." He spoke softly. "You should find a good man. Go away, go to Juneau and give your heart away, instead of favors. There is a man out there who will appreciate your compassion. Leave here, I would not like to hear that you were hurt."

  He watched the tears fill her eyes. She tried to smile. "Is there another somewhere like you, Rakov?"

  Stanislaus shook his head. "You will never know until you start looking. Give it a try. If you wish, I myself will book passage for you and whatever goods you wish, to Juneau or Sitka. You are a fine woman. Give yourself a chance. Let me know when you are ready, I will see to it for you."

  "I will do it. The next time we meet, you are Mr. Rakov to me and I shall be Mrs. Russell to you. I wish you joy, Stanislaus. Do not feel guilty, please. That would cause me pain. I had no wish to make your life harder."

  Reaching for her again, he stroked her ankle. "I will live Mrs. Russell. Liquidate and pack up. As soon as you tell me, I will send you north."

  She told the driver to move along. Stanislaus watched the carriage move down the muddy track. With a sigh, he resumed his wandering along the muddy trail, someone had laughingly decided to call a road. He hoped she really would go. Elaine had tried to help, it was not her fault he could not give up on his dream.

  They were nearing the Lena. Anya could see the greater height of the trees. They had only gone a half days travel but shortly they would be at Ust-Kut. She had deliberately skirted the edge of the portage not wanting to be asked too many questions. Petyr was her main concern.

  As much as she wanted to believe the story of a boating accident causing the boy to be mute would forestall questions, she was not sure it was sufficient. They had the small gold nugget she had held out. Hopefully, it would be enough to get them passage to Yakutsk. She just wanted to get there without incident.

  On reaching the river, Anya noted the water was fairly high. That was a good sign. There was still no ice on the riverbank something she was thankful for. There was little river traffic to be seen.

  There were many huge log rafts loaded with heavy cargo, which would surely take a long time to get to Yakutsk. The loads were unbalanced, anyone could see it. She spoke with several of the raft owners. Anya learned that often the rafts got stranded in the ice. Those that did, had to finish the journey the following spring.

  They must find another way. Finally, she was able to find someone with an old birch bark canoe for sale. After bargaining with him for quite a while, Anya was able to purchase the craft and paddles for a reasonable sum. The canoe would need caulking. She felt the job could be completed in a few days with Petyr's help.

  The man who sold her the craft was also a fount of information regarding travel on the Lena. He assured her there were settlements all along the way, most of them no more than fifty versts apart. Anya was reluctant to ask what a verst was equivalent to. She decided to treat them as miles and hoped they were not more than that.

  At least this way they would be able to stop when they choose. Traveling on their own would allow her to keep Petyr away from prying eyes. But, the prospect of traveling down a river she had no knowledge of, was frightening.

  It was all that could be done. Being caught in the ice on the Lena and having to wait until spring to get to Yakutsk was equally terrifying. That thought provided sufficient motivation to get down the river as soon as they could get the canoe river ready.

  The paddles they purchased with the canoe were double ended. She had no experience with that style of paddle, but doubted they would be much different from the single blade she had used at home.

  Anya hired two Yakuti to help her move the canoe down river to a fairly sheltered spot. Sitting in the middle of the canoe with Petyr, Anya watched carefully as the two men paddled the canoe down river. It had been a very long time since she had been in a canoe. And the vessel she had ridden in was her uncle's dugout.

  After explaining to both men, she wished to work on the canoe before starting down the Lena, they took her to an area where she would find sufficient pine pitch for her purpose.

  As they pulled the canoe from the water and turned it over for her, Anya asked them how long it might be before the river began to freeze. The older of the two took her to one side.

  He pointed out several large boulders. In the shadow of the rocks there was a thin sheet of ice. "Not long missus. She will be frozen soon." He walked back toward the canoe.

  A third man followed in a smaller version of the canoe Anya now owned. The second man helped to pull their boat onto the shore. This was their transportation back up river.

  The older man looked at Petyr and Anya, then shook his head. "This is not an easy thing you are attempting missus."

  "I know this." Anya agreed. "But I need to reach Yakutsk. I am to meet a man called Losif there."

  "Yah, we know Losif. All Yakutsk knows of him."

  The older man walked over to his canoe. He hopped in as the other two men steadied the vessel with their paddles.

  "Be careful. Keep a good watch for snags missus. The river is wide from here down, snags are the biggest danger."

  They all pushed off then paddled away upstream. She and Petyr would work on the caulking in the morning. For now they would get a fire going and rearrange their packs. Anya wanted to put things in smaller bundles so she could spread them equally in the bottom of the canoe.

  Before purchasing the canoe, Anya found a merchant. Using a small nugget she had acquired some additional supplies. The goods he had for sale did not include firearms. By discreetly inquiring, she learned firearms of any kind were not easily obtained. The government apparently felt it was safer if the populace was not armed regardless of what roamed the forest.

  She bought several wolf pelts, which she intended to use for sleeping furs. Sugar, tea and dried fish also swelled their larder. Since they no longer had to carry everything, they could increase their stores somewhat. The dried fish would give her a break from hunting so all their efforts could be devoted to getting to Yakutsk before freeze up.

  In the morning Anya gave a quick lesson to Petyr in how to go about gathering pine pitch. She took the batch she had scraped from a spruce tree and went back to camp to begin work.

  Her experience was with dugout canoes. But, her initial inspection of the canoe had revealed pitch was the original material used for caulking. It would have been easier to do the job in the summer, but there was no choice. Once the fir
e was blazing hotly, she put a lump of pitch on the end of a stick she had whittled flat. The end was flat, but she had made it quite thin and flexible.

  After warming the pitch in the fire, she hurried over to the canoe, which waited upside down. Anya coated the seams of the canoe with the heated pitch on the stick. When she had exhausted the warmed lump of pitch, she went back for another.

  She and Petyr broke for a quick bite of fish and hot tea before continuing with the caulking. The entire procedure was finished by the end of the day. The canoe would be ready for travel on the morrow. Anya was happy the repair had gone so well.

  They both sat wrapped in their blankets before the fire Petyr had built up. Anya wanted to finish the bear hide as it would be needed. A piece of driftwood, which had required minimal shaping, was driven into the sandy soil.

  Sitting cross legged before it, she rhythmically pulled section after section of the great hide over the end of the stake. Petyr removed his hand from the sling.

  Flexing his fingers, the boy bent his wrist first one way then the other. "Anya, I think my wrist is nearly healed." He picked up a stick with which to draw in the dirt.

  Anya grunted. "Good. I will need you to be able to handle a paddle. I think I will bind your wrist for the time being, however. Remind me in the morning."

  She was nearly two thirds finished with the bear hide and not of a mind to quit.

  "Have you thought about what you will do regarding your marriage when you get home?" Petyr's question caught her off guard.

  Anya stopped what she was doing to look over at him. "Why do you ask? That has nothing to do with now."

  Petyr reached out with the stick he was holding to stir the fire a bit. "I know it does not. But I do not like to see you so bitter and angry. You were meant to be joyful."

  The rasping of the hide over the stake increased.

  "See! That is what I mean. Every time he is mentioned you become angry." Petyr jabbed the stick into the fire, the flames rose higher. "Speaking about it makes you leap up like these flames."