The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  The sound of feet running distracted our attention away momentarily. A young, thinly built youth ran speedily down the dirt road. Even from the distance that separated us, I saw that his brown eyes were wide with panic and his skin shone from a thick covering of sweat.

  “There’s a fire!” He shouted as he rushed toward us. “One of the monks set the Abbey on fire! The town is lost!” He finished in a blur as he broke through our line and continued down the road.

  “If there is a fire, there will be work in rebuilding,” Daffyd said with a glimmer of hope as his empathetic face kept his watch on the fleeing youth’s back.

  “We need to go to town.” Sibbe agreed as she readjusted Samuel and reached out for Eva’s hand.

  “I should go. I might be of some use. There will be wounded people in need of my care.” I said surprising myself with my own words. With a nod of Daffyd’s head, the five of us set out onto the road in the direction of the town. Even though the thought of a strange place filled me with dread, the need to help spurred me on.

  ************

  The trip to town took the better part of the day. Since we left in the late afternoon, we stopped when the sun sank beyond the horizon and darkness stretched across the landscape. We made camp in a small thicket just off the main road. Daffyd and Sibbe wrapped their children in their cloaks and fed them while I built a fire.

  “I’m surprised that you came with us, Yvaine,” Sibbe said after she finished tucking the cloak snugly around her son’s neck. “I would have thought that your aversion for the town would have kept you from coming.”

  “I am just as surprised as you,” I replied honestly. “But I couldn’t stay knowing that people could be hurt. If the number of injured is high, I have no doubt that the healers will have their hands full. Another pair of hands can make a big difference.”

  “I am sure that the monks and nuns there will welcome the help.” Sibbe agreed as she reached forward, tossing a small branch onto the fire. The small blaze that burned in our temporary hearth was kept intentionally low. Even though the dense foliage disguised us from view, the heavy smell of the smoke could catch the attention of an unwanted guest. For the sake of the children, as well as ourselves, we took turns sleeping throughout the night until we resumed our journey in the morning.

  ************

  The town came into view as we crested the rise in the road. Protected by a high, sturdy-looking wall, the town bustled with life inside the town’s gates. My first initial reaction was recognition. I closed my eyes as I listened as the town stirred and boomed just like the market square back home. The familiarity brought back the memory of happier days when I moved through the Island’s Forum, hand in hand with Eweln.

  As we went through the gates, I couldn’t help but smile at the abundant activity inside. Traders, weavers, clothiers, dyers, bricklayers, carpenters, fisherman, candlemakers, butchers, bakers and so many more busily went about their regular days. The Island market flashed before my eyes. I saw the many similarities both places had in common. What I didn’t see was the destruction and ruin implied from the youth’s dire warning that the town was lost. Everything suggested otherwise. Despite the smell of a recent fire in the air, the town was seemingly unscathed despite the lad’s impending doom.

  Sibbe smiled reassuringly as we walked toward the center of town. Many faces turned and stared openly as we passed by. Feeling out of place, I did my best to stay calm and acknowledge them with a nod. Daffyd led the way, with Sibbe and Samuel next, leaving me to flank the end, holding Eva’s hand. For some unspoken reason, she’d clung to me since this morning. Her refusal to leave my side or even to release my hand, warmed my heart and strengthened my fondness for the child.

  “Aye there, Archard!” Daffyd called out as we drew closer to the heart of the village. “Archard!” Just ahead of us, a short, stocky man was loading bolts of cloth onto a cart. Hearing Daffyd’s call, the man turned around and waved amicably.

  “Daffyd,” The shorter man panted, visibly grateful for the momentary reprieve. “I thought you were heading south to find work.” He said, curious as to why the other man and his entourage were back.

  “I was but some kid came blazing past us. Then we looked up and saw the smoke billowing up in the sky yesterday. We brought our friend, Yvaine—she’s a healer—to see if we could render aid.”

  “Ah, welcome to you then, Yvaine.” Archard Weaver greeted me warmly before turning his attention back to Daffyd. “There was a fire at the Abbey yesterday morning. Folks are saying that one of the monks knocked over a candle and torched the place accidentally. I think it was one of the local boys causing mischief. He set his father’s wine cellar on fire earlier this year and what a to-do that was! This was worse, though. The monk’s entire living quarters burned down, as did their kitchen. The only thing left standing was the stone walls of the sanctuary.” Archard recalled with great clarity. “I suppose that they will be needing someone to help them rebuild. After the sickness took over three-quarters of the Abbey last year, they’re finding themselves severely shorthanded. I bet if you went and spoke to Prior Michael, he’d agree to give you food and lodging in exchange for your help.”

  Everyone witnessed the lift in Daffyd’s shoulders at the mention of work. I instantly liked Archard and was silently grateful for his kindness towards my friend. “I thank you for telling me,” Daffyd said appreciatively. “Would you mind if Sibbe, Yvaine, and the children stayed with you while I go speak to Prior Michael?”

  “Not at all. I’ll keep them safe until you return.” The two men shook hands, spoke briefly once more before Daffyd left us in Archard’s care. “So, you are a healer?” Archard asked several minutes after Daffyd left.

  “I am,” I answered him back both curious about the place around me as well as the people within it. “As Daffyd said, I’ve come to offer help.”

  “Aye, that is kind of you. Only one man was hurt and that was a small burn. One of the monks spread butter on his hand.”

  “He should have used honey. Butter will only exacerbate the burn.” I said, irritated at the monk’s lack of knowledge. “We should be thankful that he didn’t use dung. That would have been worse.”

  “You know a fair bit about healing, then?” Archard stood before me, eyeing me with genuine interest.

  “I do. I was taught by one of the greatest healers that’s ever lived.”

  Archard eyes gasped as his hand flew to his chest. “You must be the healer woman my wife’s sister told us about.” His eyes widened with recognition while I continued to be ignorant. “My wife’s sister traveled here just over two years ago, with her small child in tow. Her husband came to town but was killed just before he got here. Poor thing didn’t know it until she arrived. What a state she was in when she got here! She said that she was set upon by thieves during her journey, but that a kind woman on the side of the road helped her when she had nothing left.”

  “You must be speaking of Bee!” I exclaimed. “I helped her! I remember her fondly!” I said happily, glad to know that the woman I had helped had indeed made it. “I have long wondered what happened to her. How is she?” I couldn’t contain my excitement.

  “She died in her sleep the year after she arrived. She was pregnant when her husband died but did not realize it until she came to us.” Archard’s face darkened with shadows. “The babe was born too early and didn’t survive. Brona, or Bee as you call her, never recovered. Everyone says that she died of a broken heart. Brona was a kind woman, though. Despite her melancholy, she never missed a chance to speak of you.” He met my eye with a wide smile. In their brown depths, I saw endless gratitude rather than sorrow. “I wonder since you are here if you could perhaps look in on my wife?” He fingered a bolt of gray-colored cloth as he glanced down the street. “She fell ill during mid-winter and has been just wasting away.”

  I asked to see her, wanting to waste no time in rendering what aid I could give. We followed as Archard led the way into his house. Le
aving Sibbe and the children downstairs with his young daughter, Archard escorted me upstairs to the bedroom where his wife lay resting. Aethyln, his daughter, scowled at me as I walked across their modest home and scoffed as I said hello.

  “Aethyln has been willful every minute of her thirteen years. Just ignore it, we all do.” Archard cast off his daughter's hate-filled looks as I came further into their house. “She’ll find out soon enough that there is someone meaner and tougher than her.” He fell silent as we approached one of two doorways on the top floor of their house. “My love,” He spoke gently as we came into the room. “I have brought someone to look in on you. Someone that you will be quite surprised to meet.” I glanced from the man beside me to the frail, withered form that lay upon the sturdy, finely crafted bed before me. “This here is Yvaine.” He introduced me, pronouncing my name strangely. Yuh-vane, rather than EE-vane, how my name was properly pronounced. “She’s the healer woman that helped our Brona get to us after she was robbed by that Byron fellow.” A cold shiver ran through me at the mention of Byron’s name. The man who had not only robbed my friends and who had attacked me, was the dirty bastard that took everything that Brona owned. Not for the first time, I was thankful that he was dead, rotting in his grave rather than alive to prey upon more unsuspecting people.

  “Brona?” A faint, weakened voice came from the frail form that lay under several blankets. “W…where is my sister?”

  “Brona is with God, my darling,” Archard sat down beside his wife and delicately took her hand within his. “But this woman, the woman that once helped your sister, is here to help you.” Archard glanced from his wife to me. The pinched set of his mouth said that he was aware that his wife was dying. Immediately I knew she was beyond the point of cure. What time she had left wasn’t meant to be spent in agony, though. That was why he brought me here. This humble cloth merchant was a kind, tender-hearted man. Just like his sister-in-law, I smelled the cleanness of his spirit. The fragrance of newly spun wool, sheep, and wet grass met my nose. Standing beside him, I caught a brief glimpse of him speaking to a frail, dark-haired man dressed in a strangely cut, undyed woolen robe who claimed that his wife’s pain was God’s punishment for her unrepented sins. The dark-haired man lived where Daffyd had gone off to. I caught another glimpse of Archard with his wife, standing in front of their hearth as she cooked. The affection shared between the two of them was almost magical. To know that the stout, vibrant, and strong woman I had seen for just a fraction of a moment had wasted away to this skeletal form made me shiver with regret.

  “I will see to it that her last days are pain-free,” I said, reaching out and placing a hand upon his shoulder. ‘God is not a cruel god. He does not meter out pain as punishment. Your wife deserves peace and she will receive it.” Archard’s hand briefly touched mine before he lowered his head and placed a soft kiss upon his wife’s forehead. “But I have limited supplies.” My hand fell to my bag that rested at my side. “I brought some along but not enough to treat…”

  “Joan,” Archard interrupted me. “Her name is Joan.”

  “Joan,” I repeated him. “I need more supplies and it will take too long to make them here. I have stores already made, though. I must return home to get them if we want to make Joan as comfortable as possible. The journey will be two days, but I will leave you this,” I pulled a small bottle from out of the depths of my bag and placed it down upon the night table at Joan’s side. “This is poppy juice,” I held up the bottle and made sure that Archard saw it. “I will leave instructions on how to administer it and how often. I promise you that it will ease her suffering and hopefully, yours.” Without hesitation, took the poppy juice up in my hand. I asked Archard to move aside and quickly administered a dose to his wife. Minutes later, her rigid, tense, pain-wracked body relaxed. Not long afterward, the gentle snoring of a restful sleep softly filled the room. Archard’s disbelieving eyes met mine. Several beats passed while we exchanged looks.

  “God Bless you, Yvaine,” He thanked me in the most sanctified way that he could. His tender hands enveloped mine as his soft lips kissed the back of my knuckles. “Bless you and may God smile down upon you. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for what you’ve done for her.” Praise embarrassed me, but gratitude did not. Proud of my abilities, I thanked him for allowing me the courtesy of helping. “Will you require anything on your journey?” He asked as I made to leave the room to give Joan a peaceful rest.

  “No, I will be more than fine, but I thank you for your kindness,” I said and left the room. I quickly moved down the stairs until I was once again standing before Sibbe, her children, and Archard’s angry little girl. Archard followed me down, close on my heels.

  “It is you that has shown us kindness. Joanie is finally sleeping comfortably. That is something that I have not been able to give her since she first took to her bed. But you did. There are no words to express how much I appreciate what you’ve done.”

  “Archard is not like most of the townspeople here,” Sibbe stated as she got to her feet, hauling her son up to rest upon her hip. “He does not think in the way that others do. He is friendly, welcoming, and accepting. He’s always been very generous and does not judge.”

  “God tells us that it is not our place. That is for him to do. And so, I let him.” Archard said faithfully. Unable to help myself, I smiled. Christianity was something that I did not mention often. Talen and I had spoken about it at great lengths, but I will admit that I was not impressed by the whole structure of their faith in the way that he was. I saw many similarities between it and our beliefs. Yet, I could not bring myself to worship a man who lived in the sky and support nailing men to crosses to punish them. The act was barbaric and overtly cruel. Standing before my thankful host, I saw the glimpses of the good that Talen had promised I’d find if I looked close enough.

  “I think that’s a sound belief to stand by,” I said finally, hoping that my words were not awkward. I meant them sincerely. Judgment was one of the harshest sentences that one could ever suffer. I had been judged, and harshly. The stares, the hostile whispers, and the livid looks after the Rites haunted me still, reminding me of how degrading and humiliating it was to be on the receiving end. “If you will forgive me, I must go.” I went to leave but Archard called out to me, stopping my feet from going further.

  “The sun will set in just a few hours, Yvaine,” He said matter-of-factly. I glanced out his window and saw that more time passed had than I had realized. Instead of seeing the bright, sunny, yellow-tinted glow of midday, I found the golden light that harkened the end of the Sun’s journey. “I would feel more comfortable if you, as well as Sibbe and her family, would stay with me tonight. We have plenty of room.” He gestured as a way of re-welcoming us into his home. Sibbe and I exchanged glances across the distance that separated us.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Sibbe thanked him for us both and resettled back on the bench. “I need to let Daffyd know.”

  “He knows. I sent word to him earlier that you’re staying here until you can find adequate lodging.” Archard said, causing Sibbe’s mouth to spread in a large, appreciative smile.

  “Then let me repay you by making dinner.” Sibbe got up from her seat and walked over to me, placing her son in the support of my arms.

  True to her word, Sibbe prepared a feast. Every mouth was salivating by the time she placed a roasted ham upon the long table, along with a mixture of chopped root vegetables cooked in duck fat and fresh baked bread. To our surprise, Daffyd appeared at the doorway just as we all sat down to eat. Hungry after the long day, he took a seat beside his wife and dove into the fare that lay before him.

  “Do you bring us good news?” Archard said, biting into his portion of the ham hock.

  “I do,” Daffyd beamed with pride. “The Prior offered me a salary, stating that he had money set aside just in case this type of disaster ever occurred.” Daffyd continued by telling us that such set up was practically unheard of due to t
he vows of poverty that the monks swore when they took their vows.

  “There is no shame in preparedness,” Archard said to further Daffyd’s point.

  “No, there isn’t. And because the Prior is a forward-thinking man, my family and I can finally plant some roots.”

  Over the course of dinner, Daffyd spoke of the house that the Church owned that resided on the edge of town, close to the Abbey. “They will allow us to live there as long as there is work to be done.” He said gratefully. “The Prior wants to build with stone. He wants new buildings that will last through the ages. What he’s proposed will take an immense amount of work and a great deal of time. After all, we all know that Rome wasn’t built in a day.” He chuckled. “By the time that it’s finished, our children will be grown, married, and will have children of their own.”

  After dinner was over, we spent several hours conversing, sharing stories and laughing like old friends. Come morning, I left before the others had risen to get an early start. I left Archard’s house feeling useful again. Making draughts, tinctures, and other remedies filled me with purpose. I stepped out onto the road with a smile. As I moved towards the city gates, several people watched me. Unlike yesterday, they did not stare as if I were untrustworthy but rather as one of their own. Several men nodded at me, each smiling and bidding me good morning. One woman, who was busily skinning rabbits, shouted hello and gave me a wave. The town was welcoming me in just the span of a day. It set me in a good mood that lasted throughout my journey home, as well as the journey back.

  ************

  “Ah, there she is!” Archard was waiting at the gate when I arrived back. His happy smile stretched across the length of his mouth.

  “Hello there,” Surprised to see him, I raised my hand as he came towards me.

  “I had an inkling that you would be back around this time,” He said, taking the bag that I carried from me without a word and slung it over his own shoulder. “Sibbe and Daffyd will be most happy to see you.” He added as we started towards his home. “They are moving into their new home within a few days. Sibbe’s there cleaning it out right now, but she said that she’d be back before sundown to tend to dinner.”