I poured the last of the brew and drank it down without hesitation. My body was drained from a combination of the upcoming change in the weather, as well as the work that I had put in over the last few days. I lay down that night, physically weary but soul proud. Any opportunity that gave me a chance to utilize my skills left me feeling with a renewed sense of purpose.
************
The night passed silently. I woke as the dawn was coming over the horizon and the sound of birdsong filled the air outside. Ralf, a man named after his father, snored quietly, wrapped in a mixture of Archard’s woven blankets and animal-pelt coverings. His body was loose and tranquil while he slept. Despite its wounds, he was the quintessential example of male physical perfection. I had watched some of the hunters and the traders while conducting business, noticing the intricate construction of their bodies. I couldn’t help but be drawn to the way their taut muscles moved under their skin, the fluidity or the coarseness in which they twisted and stretched, not to mention their sheer size. The sight stirred feelings inside of me that I didn’t think that I would ever feel. Being raped at such a young age, combined with the subsequent attacks upon my person, convinced me that I would never desire the intimate company of a man. I preferred to keep them at arms’ length, forever insisting that things remain platonic.
This man was different. In a word, Ralf took my breath away. I found every part of him fascinating. His keen mind was equal to mine. He was a farmer. Working with the earth and watching the fruits of his labor grow filled him with an inexpressible pride. Most of all, he enthralled me with the stories of his culture. Mythic tales of gods and goddesses who were as human as we were. Within days, I wanted to spend every moment that I could with him. As he slowly got better, I feared that he would leave, even though I knew that it would be weeks before he was back to his full health.
************
I woke one morning after suffering from a nightmare in which I had been in the forest foraging and upon returning home, found him gone. A large pool that closely resembled the one that Byron had laid in took his place. Shaking the distressing thoughts off, I got up from my temporary bed and dressed behind a sheet that I had hung to protect my modesty. Wanting to forget the nightmare, I moved as quietly as I could and gathered my essentials. I stepped out into the chilly air to empty the fish traps and check my garden for anything that could be harvested.
When I got back, Ralf was out of bed and sitting at the table cutting onions. “What are you doing?” I reprimanded him as I stepped inside.
“Helping make dinner. Don’t be angry with me, Yvaine. I couldn’t lay in that bed any longer. It was making me crazy.” He said, wincing as he stretched out for a stray onion that was just beyond the length of his arm. Leaving the door, I went and handed him what he sought.
“You have to be careful!” I scolded him again as I went about checking the condition of his bandages. “If you’re not careful, you will rip out the stitches in your stomach and will have wasted all my hard work.” I clucked my tongue at him. Ralf stopped what he was doing and sat examining me. It unsettled me how he would stare, watching me with an observant and probing eye. Even my back was turned to him, I knew that he was studying the whole of me. The knowledge of that left me uncomfortable but for some unexplainable reason, it didn’t prompt me to move.
“I’m an active man. I am not used to being laid up on my back,” He explained as I continued preparations for dinner. “I promise to be careful,” He apologized without saying the words. “If you will just give me something to keep me occupied, I promise to be good.”
Seeing that it was a reasonable request, I gave it no further argument. “You can sit here, as long as you obey my orders. If you must have something to do, and since you’ve already started on the onions, this basket of root vegetables needs to be chopped up for the fish stew that I am making for supper.”
Ralf gave me a warm, appreciative smile. He graciously took the basket that I offered. I watched as he peered inside. “You have carrots!” His smile lit up his face, showing a full set of teeth. “Turnips, cabbage, and what is this?” He held up bits of green and sniffed them.
“Those are nettles,” I told him. “I use them along with the carrot tops and onion skins to flavor the broth.”
“You eat onion skins?” Ralf wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating the peelings.
“I don’t leave them in,” I corrected his assumption. “I strain them out, but I do leave the carrot tops and the nettles in to give the stew some color,” I explained. “The leaves keep your digestion in order, if you know what I mean?”
“I’ve never seen them before.” He held the delicate leaves in his palm, tracing a single finger across the span of the leaf. “Are they native?”
“Yes. There is a patch that grows wild near the stream where I set my fish traps.” I explained. “Once it’s safe for you to be on your feet, I’ll take you there.” Another smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he nodded his head.
“I’d like that, Yvaine,” He added and after a brief pause went back to his work.
While Ralf worked slowly, steadily slicing and chopping what I had given him, I took some of the stored grain and made the dough for bread. For a short time, we worked together, enjoying the silence but each grateful to not be alone. As I started grinding mint for my indigestion remedies, Ralf told me more about his adventures and the land of his birth.
“My family still lives across the sea,” He said, his voice even and melodic as he spoke. “My people are farmers, but we also traded goods and wares. Our settlement is set on the shore near a fjord.” He said but I was not familiar with the word. Seeing my confusion, he smoothed out the spilled flour that had remained from my earlier bread making and drew a map, showing me what he meant. I saw a long, narrow passageway. “It’s an inlet set between two high cliffs.” He explained. “This is the water,” His finger hovered over the long, narrow passageway. “This is where the water meets the land and this,” He placed his finger down and drew an x in the white-colored powder. “is the village.”
In my mind’s eye, I could envision the world he left behind. I could feel the coolness of the breeze blowing in from the water, smell the heavy scent of freshly caught fish, and picture the blue skies that reached as far as the eye could see. The sounds of a busy community at work and at play, along with the peals of children’s laughter met my ears. Ralf watched my reaction with his keen and vibrant eyes. “My father was the jarl,” He looked to see if I knew what he meant. I shook my head, showing him that I did not. “He was the leader of our community. He died when I was a young man and as his oldest son, it was expected that I would follow him as jarl.” He sat back, his hands remained still, instead of taking up the knife again. “My spirit longed to explore, to seek adventure, and to go raiding.” His mouth turned up at the corner. “I was meant to be a voyager and so, I forfeited my right to my inheritance. I gave the seat to my uncle, who was a kind and fair man—one that was far better suited to rule than I was. With no other ties keeping me there, I set out with a party and went raiding.”
“Raiding? What is that?” I asked simply, standing close beside him, wanting to know as much about him as I possibly could.
Ralf took a moment to think before answering me. “You may think less of me when I tell you,” He said honestly. “When my people raid, we go in search for many things. Most of all, the men seek treasure, especially gold, silver, and often other humans, to be used as slaves. I do not condone the keeping of slaves but many of my people disagree. They see the spoils that they bring home as a symbol of their success, and don’t care if its inanimate or living. All they care about is fortune and unfortunately, humans bring the most reward.”
“The greater the spoil, the greater the profit?” I said catching on.
“Correct,” He nodded. “That’s what brought me to England. A group of our people came looking for farmland. We wanted to learn different farming techniques and plant our ro
ots—both figurative and literal—in this foreign landscape. We came in search of a place to raise families. Others have come in search of treasure and plunder, but they are fools. They don’t realize that the ground beneath our feet is far more valuable than some golden trinket raided from some Christian church.” He scoffed and shook his head disgustedly.
“Land back home is scarce. Most of it is owned by jarls—my father was a rarity among them, and those jarls force the poorer, more common man to work his fingers until they are raw. When the harvests come in, those with power only allow those that work the land to keep a small portion of what they raise. I think that’s why there is always an expedition heading out. It’s hard to make a name for yourself by working in the dirt. Those that go raiding think that the treasure they bring back will elevate them to a better position. What they don’t see is that they are just fooling themselves. Slaves are rarely purchased by the common man. They’re costly and too expensive for a farmer to afford. Personally, I find slavery abhorrent. For as long as I live, I will never own another man, woman, or child. The thought of owning another person is vile. My brother feels the same way. It’s why he also refused to be jarl. There were many times that we were chided for our beliefs while we were growing up.” He paused for a breath and continued on. “My desire was more towards travel. I wanted to see the different cultures, explore the lands, and most of all, I wanted to see what they ate, what they grew, and how they farm. That’s what I want to do. I want to farm. I want to have animals, raise crops, and marry a woman who would give me a couple of children.”
The life he had mapped out for himself sounded inviting. At one time, I would have never looked at that type of life as one to be desired but having lived through what I had experienced, the simple serenity of it was ideal and, in a word, perfect.
“Did you leave a farm behind?” I asked him without saying what I really wanted to ask. Did you leave a woman behind, too?
“Since I am unmarried, there wasn’t land for me yet, but I stayed behind to help the others set up their farms.” My body relaxed as he spoke. The thought of this man spending time with another woman filled me with a mixture of jealousy and anger. I didn’t realize it then, but I had started to fall in love with the man that sat beside me.
I loved Ralf for his gentleness. Large men were tender, I learned in my few years. I adored Ralf’s humor. His infectious belly laughs that came after telling a joke left my sides aching as if they would split apart. His grace awed me. I first witnessed it when a confused blackbird accidentally flew into the depths of the cave and smacked against the wall. Thinking it dead, I readied myself to bury it, but Ralf stayed my hand, insisting that it was only stunned. Hobbling outside, he held the fragile bird in his massive hands and stroked it until it woke up and flew off. In addition to those wonderful qualities, the man I loved was kind, thoughtful, and brave. The tales of his adventures left little doubt that he was a man that stood his ground, even in the face of fear. All those lovely things created the foundation that my love was built upon. Falling in love with him hadn’t taken long. I argued with myself that I barely knew him, but there was something there. That magic that my grandmother had spoken of had reached me at last.
You will know when you know. Her voice came from out of my memory and spoke so clearly in my ear that it surprised me that Ralf had not heard it as well.
“I was hunting for a young mother who had recently lost her husband when I was attacked.” He let out a long sigh and I could see that he regretted his decision. “I regret not being able to bring her any food for her little ones. I can only hope that one of the others showed her some kindness.”
“Once you are well, you are free to join them,” I said knowing that what was best warred with what I most wanted. “I will not keep you from returning.”
“Thank you,” He said gratefully and then without any further hesitation, picked up the knife and resumed what he had been doing. “What about you?” He turned the topic of conversation towards me. “Where is the rest of your family? Do they live close?” There was no malice in his asking, just simple curiosity. If it had been anyone else, I would have refused to respond but with him, I felt free to answer.
“My family lives on the coast,” I said but the all-too-familiar sadness that haunted me whenever I thought about them decided to appear and stay. “From what I know, they’re still there, but I am here now.” That was all I could manage to say for the time being. A tightness pressed upon my chest and my nervous body constricted with agitation.
“Yvaine,” Ralf’s concerned voice deepened as he said my name. “Are you, all right?” He gently laid his hand upon mine. I found that I could not answer him straight off. It took me a few moments to compose myself.
“I am fine,” I assured him even though I wasn’t. He gave my hand a couple of squeezes before breaking the connection.
“There is unfinished business there,” He said softly, understanding completely and then without missing a beat, went back to his work, abandoning the topic for now. I did the same. My mind heavy with memories and my heart aching once again for a place that I had vowed never to return to.
************
That night, we continued to grow further acquainted, passing the dark hours eating stew and snacking on dried fruit. To his credit, Ralf avoided the topic of my family, choosing instead to tell me of the pantheon of gods that his people worshipped. He filled the hours with fantastical stories of an all-seeing Allfather, a mischievous, trickster god that birthed an eight-legged horse, and a beautiful goddess that drove a chariot pulled by two cats, was accompanied by a boar, and wore a cloak of falcon’s feathers. There was nothing said between us about my family for many months.
Ralf and I lived harmoniously together through the rest of the winter and into Spring. When the first of the robins arrived, contrasting the dullness of the land with their beautiful, orange-colored breasts, I could not picture my life without him. We had grown close as friends. I was positive that was as far as it went, and any additional feelings were mine and mine alone. Every day was a mixture of pure joy and heartbreaking sadness. I hated going to bed, knowing that slumber would part us. In the morning, I rose early because the desire to see him and speak to him was too great. Ralf and I spoke for hours, learning the intricacies of one another and building a bond that I couldn’t bear to lose. When the first buds began to open and the Rites were expected to take place, I began to distance myself. Each time I thought of Ralf walking out the door, never to return, I was reduced to tears. The pain of losing him was agonizing. It’s a terrible thing to grow close to someone, to love them to the point of breathlessness, and then have them leave as if you were just a passing phase in their life, rather than something permanent.
I had taken to enjoying long walks alone across the field, sometimes stopping to speak to Talen at his grave, telling him of the tall, intelligent, kind, wonderful man I loved as I tried to make sense of my feelings and how I would cope once Ralf decided to go back.
In the meantime, Ralf’s injuries healed beautifully. The vicious stomach wound left a wicked looking scar across his abdomen, but I assured him that only the scar would remain. Ralf thrived living in that cave alongside me. When the time came, he helped sow my garden, showing me a technique that others had mastered but I had yet to attempt. A practice that he called fertilization.
“This helps the plants grow larger and produce healthier, more substantial harvests.” He said as he buried fish entrails into the ground with the seeds. “The smellier, the better.” He added, and I responded by crinkling my nose in disgust. “By doing this, you no longer have to plant so many of one thing. The harvest from one plant is greater and it leaves more space in the garden for other things.” I knelt at his side, watching his fingers pack the dirt back down. “The settlers that lived near us showed us this method and before I left, we had seen two seasons of crops with substantially increased abundance.”
As I watched Ralf work, I wished that Ewe
ln was there with us. Learning and expanding upon what one knew was something that she always encouraged. She would have loved to have experienced this, and question how this worked and why. The experience would have curved her wrinkly mouth into a grin and would have made her bi-colored eyes sparkle with delight.
“You look as if you’re on a journey, but you are still here beside me.” Ralf said, breaking the train of my thoughts. “Are you thinking of your family?” He said gently. It had been the first time that he had brought up the subject since that awkward moment when I found myself unable to speak of it.
“I was thinking about the woman who was my mentor. The one that taught me what I know.” I said with a wistful tone. “Her name was Eweln and she would have marveled at this.” I reached out and grabbed a handful of dirt. “She encouraged all of her students to learn, especially me. If she was here now, she would have been right here between us up to her elbows in the dirt.”
I’ll admit that at that moment, thinking of Eweln left me aching. I missed her at the center of my core. Judging by the way that he was looking at me, Ralf saw it too.
“She sounds like a unique woman,” He said as he picked himself up and wiped his hands before extending one to help me to my feet. “She must have very gifted if she was your teacher.” The compliment made me smile and made my cheeks warm.
“She is or was. I have no way of knowing whether she’s alive or dead.” I admitted, and it struck a place deep inside of me. When I left the Island, I left her behind, along with the people I had wanted to run away from. Leaving her sleeping as I snuck off had been one of the hardest things that I have ever done but even now, I truly believed that she understood why I needed to go.
The Island of Mists Page 28
