The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “What about the fish traps?” Ralf interjected himself into my thoughts and surprised me with a light touch on my arm to get my attention. “We need to check those too.” He looked up suddenly towards the sky. “A storm is settling in and it looks like it will be bad.” I lifted my eyes towards the heavens and saw that he was right. The blue sky of the early morning had given way to rain-laden, angry clouds that promised thunder and lightning. Ralf and I moved from the garden and traveled the way to the stream where we emptied the traps, and then baited them again for the following day. From there, we went back to the cave and set about what had become our daily routine.

  ************

  Since he was physically able, Ralf made improvements around our shared home. With his time, Ralf regaled me with more mythical stories of his homeland while he built new furniture for the house.

  “I give you credit for trying Yvaine, but this furniture just will not do.” Ralf said as he picked up a chair that had a rickety leg. “How could you have lived with this so long? I am surprised that it didn’t break underneath you.” He pointed to the other chair as well, remarking on my crudely built furniture.

  “I only had so much to work with. Besides, it’s suited my needs. Even if it is a bit wobbly.”

  “That settles it. I will make new furniture, and I warn you, it’s going to take some time. After all that you’ve done for me, there is no way that I can let you to continue living like this.”

  True to his word, Ralf built several new tables, chairs, and a footstool to rest his feet upon at night. He even made me a new bed, along with one for himself. In his spare time, he carved symbols from his culture into the woodwork. Runestones, he said as he described the meaning behind each one. My favorite of his furniture was the set of chairs and matching table, intended for dining or sitting at during the evening time when the world went quiet. This was where he wrote for hours, scribbling away long after I had gone to bed. Ralf had learned to read and write just after arriving on these shores. A priest, a man who frequently visited their settlement and who at first Ralf found repulsive, offered to teach him how to read the language of the people. Ralf in turn, taught the man how to defend himself. The paper that he used, he made himself from the hides of animals that he hunted. He worked tirelessly, spending countless hours soaking the pelts in lye, stripping fur from the skins, stretching them out on a contraption that he constructed, and scraping them with a curved knife. Once every trace of fur was gone and what remained was smooth, Ralf left it to dry until it became parchment.

  “What is it that you find so fascinating that it keeps you writing through the night?” I asked once to which he gave me a surprising reply.

  “I’m writing down the tales of my people and the stories of our gods. I don’t want them to be forgotten after I’m gone.” He answered simply. “My people tell their stories orally and I have found that the stories change each time a different person speaks them. My stories—the ones that my father taught me—the adventures of his life, my life, and our people, I want written down so that no one can change or embellish what happened. I want others to know the truth, not some exaggerated version of it.”

  I admired the way Ralf looked towards the future. Ralf was a planner. He never tackled anything without careful thought as to how it would impact us later on. He cautiously weighed the good against the bad and decided accordingly. That was how he had come to learn how to make furniture. It was the reason for him showing me how to fertilize the crops, and most of all, how to further protect myself.

  From the moment that I declared his wound completely healed, Ralf taught me how to use my body to strike strategic points on the one who dared try to harm me. He also taught me the finer points of fighting with a knife, specifically where to stab to kill my attacker quickly and thoroughly. His lessons enhanced what Talen had taught me.

  Ralf was the most dependable person that I have ever known. If something needed attention, he did it without question. Ralf was not one to procrastinate. His honor was his word and he held that in high regard. Most of all, Ralf was gentle, and he was kind. Never was it more apparent than when we encountered traveling traders and their children. Ralf always had time to stop and speak to them. With the adults, he often shared a cup or two of his favorite honey-wine, a concoction he called mead. For the children, he kept a bag of dried sweet cherries that he would dole out to each and every one. Sometimes, if they came upon him at the right time, he’d be armed with bits of fresh dripping honeycomb. Ralf said that most men of his culture saw those traits as a weakness but his father, who shared his uniquely modern nature—save for their views on slavery—taught him the opposite.

  “There is great strength in gentleness,” He often said when the subject of his father presented itself. For these qualities, I loved him deeply and found it harder with each passing day to keep it bottled up inside, choosing to hide it from him. Losing him was inevitable though. I knew that he would leave one day and that I would be left behind to yearn for him, to ache for him, and long for a return that would never come. Ralf opened my eyes to life. With him at my side, I learned, questioned and went back to things that I long had given up.

  ************

  Ultimately, it was Ralf that saw my return to Market Faires. He first suggested it when he discovered a basket of round, wood-carved containers that I had collected throughout the years.

  “What are these, Yvaine?” He asked, days before the decision was made. I had been pulling a large basket out from the collection of baskets that had sat untouched in the front far corner of the cave.

  “I used those for salves,” I explained. “That other basket beside it contains a small collection of clay bottles for tinctures. “There is a potter that travels down this way. Each time he comes through, he trades me six for a bundle of vegetables. I don’t even know why I bother to buy them anymore. It’s not like I need them, and I don’t go into town anymore. Not since I was driven out.”

  “You used to go to town?” Ralf glanced at me quizzically. “What do you mean by you were ‘driven out’?” He rolled a container between his great, lengthy fingers.

  “Because of the Prior that lives in the Abbey there tried to burn me as a witch. Fortunately, the few friends I had left were able to get me away before he could go through with his attempt.” I said disgusted that Prior Eadhbert had once again found a way to irritate me and leave me with an upset stomach.

  “A zealot too, no doubt,” Ralf said with perfect acuity.

  “A fanatic determined to see me burn,” I said and filled in the details of my time with the townspeople. “He was an evil man whose greatest weakness was his desire for me.”

  Ralf sighed loudly. I had come to realize it was something that he did whenever faced with something that he thought unfair. “You shouldn’t let him keep you away,” He said to me softly but firmly. “You have as much right to be there as anyone else. People benefitted from your skills and now, they go without simply because of this Eadhbert. You have a gift that should not be wasted, Yvaine. I am living proof that you hold healing magic within you. I would be dead if it wasn’t so.” He met my eyes across the length of the room. I was humbled that he thought so highly of me. “Pathetic, nasty men spread their ire because they go unchecked. If he tries to speak to you, he’ll regret it.” Ralf championed me suddenly, much to my surprise. “How far is it to the town?” He asked suddenly. I watched at him for a moment, hoping that he wasn’t thinking what I thought he was.

  “A day journey northward. Why?” I narrowed my eyes at him knowing what he was about to say.

  “Then we will leave in two days. We are going to go back to the town. You are going to set up your stand at the next market and if that nasty little man comes within even ten feet of you, I’ll break his pathetic little neck.”

  “Ralf, I—”

  “No, Yvaine. We are going. There is no one that should keep you from your work. I will see to it that it is so.” He spoke with passion and determinati
on. It comforted me to know that I had his full support but the thought of returning scared me to my core.

  “The town is a Christian. There’s an abbey with monks and nuns. They won’t accept a ‘heathen’ showing up in tow. And they won’t accept two unrelated, unmarried people traveling together.” I said fully aware that still I cared what about the townspeople’s opinion. In all the time that I had been amongst them, I had never been trampled or pressed upon, or maligned—save for Aethyln and Eadhbert. Most of the people accepted me once they got to know me and experienced my healing skills firsthand.

  “We’ll say that I am your cousin. I know enough about their religion to pass for a Christian,” He said casually. “We will say that I escort you to ensure that ensure that you don’t come to harm. People like Eadhbert, ruffians. The roads can be rough, as you know. We’ll also tell them that I am there to guard you against Eadhbert.”

  Instantly, I was more than willing to go along with his proposal. Telling a half-truth was something that I was not comfortable with, but I knew that in this case, it would keep wagging tongues silent. It would keep gossip from festering around my name. The last thing that I needed was a wagging tongue and a line of vicious gossip following at my back. I didn’t need another reason to be tied to a pole and set aflame.

  ************

  Two days later Ralf and I left and trekked back to the town. A thrill shot through me hearing the familiar sounds from within the town’s walls echo outwards. Ralf and I paused just at the gate and shared a glance. “Are you ready?” He said to me, and to my surprise, briefly held my hand. Nodding my head, I took the first step to reestablishing one of the happiest times of my life.

  “Yvaine!” A shocked voice called out from the throng of people that filled the lane. “Yvaine, is that you?” I turned to see Archard rushing towards us. “My dear God, it is you! You’ve come back to us!” Archard scooped me up and spun me around as hugged me. He pressed me tightly to him, surprising Ralf with the gesture. “There are no words to say how much we’ve all missed you. Tell me, what have you been doing with yourself? Have you been well? Please tell me that you’ve not been sick.” My friends’ eyes were filled with worry. It set my heart at ease to know that I had been missed.

  “I am well. I have been busy nursing my cousin back to life,” I motioned to Ralf, who half-bowed with acknowledgement. “He was gravely injured, and his family brought him to me to heal his wounds.”

  “Archard. It’s an honor to meet Yvaine’s kin. What a lucky man you are, sir.” Archard stuck his hand out towards Ralf for a handshake. “Your cousin is a miracle worker. She tended my wife with such compassion and grace. Joanie would have suffered needlessly if it hadn’t been for this sweet creature here.” Archard’s face fell momentarily before brightening back up again. “The lot of us have missed her tremendously. “Everyone, look who’s returned to us!” Archard suddenly shouted to the crowd, causing several heads to turn in our direction.

  Before I knew it, I was swarmed by familiar, excited, smiling faces, each welcoming me back with hugs and kisses, while stating how much I was missed. I embraced each one, thanking them for my welcome. All the while, I kept my eye upon Ralf who had stepped back from the thick of the crowd and watched me with knowing, contented eyes. From the excited faces, I learned that Eadhbert was excommunicated shortly after his failed witch burning. Dorcas, my champion, went on to say that Eadhbert died the previous winter. One of the local fishermen found him floating in the lake located just west of town, his head bashed in with money still in his pocket. In true Dorcas fashion, my friend didn’t hesitate to complain that her migraines returned. She excitedly described the changes the town had undergone.

  “Thomas is Prior now,” Archard explained as he took over from Dorcas on all that had transpired since I last him. Archard spoke of how a wave of influenza swept over the town just after Eadhbert’s banishment. Many sickened and died. The hospice became overrun, unable to keep up with the steady stream of the sick. One of those that died was my dear friend, Brother Paul. I made a mental note to go visit his grave as we all stood there in the center of the lane, catching upon on the happenings of the last two years. “The woman that was tried with you, she came back to town and married a wool merchant. She just gave birth to a baby, not more than a month ago.” Archard filled me in on my fellow prisoner during the rough time she and I had shared. Most of the people had ebbed away, returning to their work but it did not quell the smiles that brightened their faces. In all honesty, I did not expect the warm welcome that I received. It was elating to see my friends, especially Sibbe and Daffyd, and to know once and for all that the townspeople had accepted me as one of their own and that that acceptance had never withered away.

  “Now, aren’t you glad that I made you come back?” Ralf said later as we made our way to Archard’s house. Upon our arrival, Archard insisted that we stay with him during our stay. Ralf immediately agreed, and the two men instantly became friends.

  “Yes,” I said reluctantly, even though it was wonderful to be back and to know that I hadn’t been shunned after that rat, had unsuccessfully tried to burn me as a witch. “I just figured that you all would have forgotten me and had gone on with your lives,” I said as Sibbe lay a pair of roast chickens down in front of us for our evening meal.

  “Life will always go on, Yvaine.” Ralf said as he plucked a chicken leg from the meat-filled platter.

  “Your cousin is right,” Archard said. “Life went on, but we didn’t forget you.” He grinned merrily while Sibbe wrapped me in a heartening, affectionate hug. The rest of the meal passed in animated conversation. The group of us discussed many things. Archard, Daffyd, and Ralf huddled together after our bellies were full. Together, Sibbe and I cleaned up after sending the children, including the angry-eyed Aethyln, upstairs for the night. From across the room, the men spoke animatedly. Every so often, a round of laughter met our ears.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that they’d been friends for years rather than new acquaintances.” Sibbe nudged my shoulder as I scrubbed the dinner plates and she wiped them clean.

  “I know. Isn’t it funny how quickly they’ve taken to one another?” Once the dishes were washed and the rest of dinner cleared, Sibbe and I watched the men natter like old women into the long hours of the night. Giving them a brief wave, Sibbe and I joined the children upstairs and went to our perspective rooms to sleep away what remained of the night.

  ************

  The next morning, I came downstairs and found all three sitting at the table, each one holding a steaming cup in their hands. All looked as if they had spent the night carousing and drinking, even though I knew inherently they hadn’t left the house. Daffyd’s face showed his exhaustion. Archard’s wore the weariness of a man who hadn’t slept. Ralf was doing his best not to show that the only thing that he sincerely wanted was a long nap.

  “Tell me that you all went to sleep at some point last night?” I said as my foot hit the downstairs floor. All three men let out a peal of laughter. They glanced at one another while hiding their grinning faces behind their cups.

  “We managed to get a little sleep last night,” Ralf said as he took a brief sip. “Although I will say that I feel well-rested and eager to start the day.” He lied coolly but I remained silent, choosing to not call him out on it. Archard and Daffyd each supported Ralf and went back to their respective cups. Giving them all a shake of my head, I moved to the kitchen tables and was surprised to find them as they had been left the night before.

  “I came down to help make breakfast.” I glanced at the absent kitchen. “Where is Sibbe?” I asked.

  “Sibbe is upstairs, sick to her stomach,” Daffyd announced. I glanced up the stairwell and moved to go to her but Daffyd stopped me. “She is always sick in the morning when she’s expecting a babe.” The corner of his mouth tugged into the beginnings of a joyful smile. My head whipped around at the wonderful news. Excited and hopeful, I could barely contain
my joy at hearing the news.

  “It’s one of the reasons why we're up so late.” Ralf grinned and patted Daffyd on the back. “We were celebrating.”

  “Do not worry about feeding us. We’ve had sausage and a bit of cheese to start our day.” Archard said politely as he adjusted himself in his chair.

  “And I made glog last night. It’s still warm if you would like some. It fills the belly and soothes the soul.” Ralf motioned towards the pot hanging inside the hearth. As I glanced towards it, the fragrant scent of clove and cinnamon reached my nose. “I put some nuts and raisins on the board just there if you want to add some to your drink.” He waved towards a crockery bowl just behind me. Quietly, I helped myself to Ralf’s brew and took a seat at the table beside him. Immediately, Archard’s eyes were fixed upon me. I kept my own gaze focused on the cup in my hands as I thought of what to do or say.

  “So, gentleman?” I couldn’t take the weighted silence any longer. “What do you all have planned for yourselves today?”

  “I’ll be busy at the Abbey,” Daffyd announced. “Prior Thomas has commissioned me to rebuild the Sacristy. Since the roof collapsed on the previous one, they’ve had to prepare for services in the larder.” I giggled my head as Daffyd spoke with gleeful enthusiasm. The conversation went lull as I debated whether to ask Archard about his day.

  Truthfully, I was genuinely glad to see him when we first arrived back in town. If it hadn’t been for the kind, yet bold cloth merchant, I would not be alive today. I did not fail to notice the spark of jealousy in his eyes as he caught sight of Ralf at my side upon arrival. Suppressed anger simmered at the mention of Ralf being my cousin. Nor did I miss the frequent longing glances across the dinner table as we consumed Sibbe’s delicious fare. Archard would always be my friend. I owed him a debt of gratitude for his actions when I was tied to that pole and on the verge of being burned alive. I would always be grateful, but it would never urge me to become his wife. The only man that I would ever consent to marry was the towering one that sat to his left. As I sat with the glog warming my palm, I hoped that Archard would come to see it.