* * *
Catrin, Rolph, and Benjin worked on the oxcart in the afternoon sun. The cart was in poor condition, and one of the wheels was seized. After they removed the wheel and greased the hub, it moved more freely, but was still less than perfect. Catrin was glad to have the cart as it would make their travels much easier, and she hoped it would help them appear more like locals. Collette folded the blankets from the loft and insisted they would make a good cushion for the splintery wooden seat. Their kindness in such a trying time spoke volumes for their generous souls, and Catrin vowed to never forget them and all they had done for her.
When the cart was deemed ready for travel, Rolph led them to a pasture on the outskirts of the farmstead. On his way, he retrieved a bushel basket of hard corn still on the cob, and he handed an ear to Catrin.
"Take this out to him. Hold your ground now. He's harmless," Rolph said with a mischievous grin, and Catrin reluctantly slipped through the fence.
Curly stood at the far end of the field, tall as a horse, half again as long, and twice as big around. His shaggy coat added to his girth, making him look like a barn on legs. As soon as Catrin stood within the fence, he turned and charged, building momentum as he came. Afraid she would be run down, Catrin did as Rolph had instructed: she held her ground, albeit with her eyes closed.
Heavy breathing and the pounding of his hooves grew closer, but just before she thought Curly would trample her, he stopped. When Catrin opened her eyes, he stood before her, eyeing her with one eye; the other stared off to her right. He snorted and nudged her with his broad head, and only then did she recall the ear of corn she held at her side. As she extended it to him, he grabbed it greedily from her hand. He shoved his ear into her hand as he chewed, nearly knocking her over. She scratched behind his ear, and he leaned into her, groaning with pleasure.
The ear of corn kept him busy for only a moment, and he nudged her hands for more. As she turned to walk back to the fence, he followed on her heels, occasionally nudging her from behind.
"I think he likes you," Rolph said with a chuckle, and Catrin stuck her tongue out at him, which set him to laughing from his belly.
"He seems like a friendly beast," Benjin said. "We can't thank you enough for your generosity."
"It's the least we can do."
Catrin slid back through the fence, and they retrieved the oxcart. Rolph brought a yoke and lines from the barn, and Curly paced the fence excitedly, rattling the gate as he passed it. But as Rolph opened the gate, a bell rang out in the distance. Its peal sent a chill down Catrin's spine and raised the hair on her arms.
"Citizens call!" echoed across the distance. "Citizens call!"
Despite Curly's protests, Rolph closed the gate. "Well, let's see what news the crier brings," he said, and Benjin nodded, showing no signs of concern. Catrin followed nervously as they crossed the fields to a small town. The call for citizens continued even after they arrived, giving those in more remote areas the chance to congregate with the rest. A large crowd had gathered around the crier, who stood atop a stage of crates draped with a red cloth.
"Good citizens, I greet you with news both grand and dire," the crier said with a dramatic flourish. "In the south of Faulk has been found the likeness of god and goddess, the very symbol of the Zjhon, with a life its own. It glows from within, proof it is a divine gift from the heavens, and we rejoice!" His words were met with a muted hush, but he continued on, apparently undaunted by the lack of applause.
"The faithful are called to the great city of Adderhold to gaze upon god and goddess, to worship in person. Failure to do so will be considered insult and heresy. Prepare yourselves, pilgrims, for Istra and Vestra call you to them, and only the masses can assuage their thirst for worship."
A louder murmur rushed through the crowd. Few seemed pleased by the prospect. Angry and frightened faces surrounded them, and the air grew foul with tension. The charge of it weighed on Catrin as the masses broadcast their anxiety, and waves of it battered her senses. She breathed in deeply to stave off the nausea, and the crier waved his arms for silence.
"The next is sad beyond reckoning, and I ask that the weak of heart be seated," the crier continued, waiting it seemed more for dramatic pause than anything else. "The armies have returned from the Godfist with only three ships. The rest were lost. The Herald Witch laid waste to the armada, killing our people and her own without discretion. She has betrayed god, goddess, the Greatland, and the Godfist with her actions, and her own people have cast her into exile. The remains of our armies took mercy on the good people of the Godfist and helped in what ways they could before they left in pursuit of the renegade Herald Witch."
Catrin swayed on her feet, along with many of those around her, but for different reasons. She knew it to be false--all of it--and she was appalled by the depth of the Zjhon's deceit. They lied to their own people because they feared the truth. Rolph leaned on Catrin and nearly fell, and she supported his weight. His face was contorted into a mask of pain and grief, and Catrin's fury rose higher. The crier's lies caused him needless pain, and she resented it deeply. She had set the armies free, but the crier's words made it sound as if she had slaughtered everyone.
"Go, citizens. Prepare yourselves for the final triumph of the Zjhon. Together we shall beat back the Herald Witch, and we will prevail. To Adderhold with you, one and all! The divinity shall arrive at Adderhold by spring, and all are required to attend. In their light shall the rifts in the Greatland be healed and the enemy crushed. Until I see you there, I bid you blessings in the light of Istra, Vestra, and the Zjhon Church."
"What do they expect us to do? Eat stones?" someone in the crowd asked. "How can we leave our fields and homes and expect not to starve?" The crier had no answers for them; instead, he just packed his stage cloth and moved on to the next town. The crowd milled in confusion. No one seemed to know what to do, and some seemed on the verge of panic. The false news of the armies' losses had the most devastating effect. Many wept in mourning for family members they presumed dead.
Catrin, Rolph, and Benjin walked back to the farmstead in oppressive silence. Rolph's shoulders occasionally shook with sobs, and Catrin sensed that he dreaded relaying the news to Collette. She stood in the barnyard when they returned, and she dropped to her knees when she saw Rolph's face; she had no need to hear the words from him. He ran to her, and they clung to each other for support. It was a gut-wrenching sight, especially when one knew the news was false. Catrin had an enormously difficult time holding her tongue, but Benjin's pointed stare urged her to do just that. Rolph helped Collette into the house, and he returned a moment later.
"Mother needs a rest," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Let's get you settled while I've still the energy to move." They opened the pasture gate, and Curly nearly charged to the oxcart. "Thinks he's going to town. He's well known, and the children always bring him corn. It can make fer a wild ride, but he does no harm," Rolph said, and while Benjin loaded their gear, he pulled Catrin aside. "I've one last gift for you." He led her into the barn and pulled a heavy coat from a hook in the feed stall. "This belonged to one of m'sons, Martik," he said, his lip quivering. "He was studying arch'tecture before the Zjhon came. He used to say he'd one day be the builder of great things. He won't be needin' this jacket anymore, and I want you t'have it. Keep the hood up, and it'll be harder to guess yer age. I hope it helps to ease the troubles of yer journey in some way."
"Will you go to Adderhold?" she asked.
"Not me. Boil the Zjhon fer taking m'boys, and boil the Herald Witch for killing 'em. Boil 'em all," he said, his face going crimson.
His words struck Catrin like a physical blow. Though she understood his reasons for saying them, they stung and shamed her. She longed to tell him the truth, to tell him his sons most likely lived as citizens of the Godfist. Would he even believe her if she told him? Tortured by the sight of his tears, she could take it no longer. "Do you trust me?" she asked, and he appraised her with his eyes.
"Aye, Elma. I trust you," he said, and the use of her pseudonym shamed her; he trusted her despite her deception, and she wondered if she deserved his trust.
"The words you heard today were false. The Herald did not kill all the men who did not return; she freed them. Most of them still live. Though they face a harsh winter with little food, I expect the majority will survive," she said, and she felt as if a vice had been released from her chest; the giving of truth allowed her to breathe again. Still, she knew she had just risked everything. Rolph's face was almost impossible to read as he contemplated her words, and she waited anxiously for some response.
"How do you know this? Tell me true."
"We've not been completely honest with you about our origins, I admit, but I would not deceive you about such a thing. I know these things because I was there. I saw it with my own eyes."
"So you're saying m'boys live?"
His simple question impaled her; she could not have felt his pain more keenly, and it left her rattled. "I cannot say for certain. Some men were killed during the invasion."
"I thank you for your words, Elma. You'd best get going," Rolph said as he noticed Benjin with an angry look on his face, and Catrin wasn't even certain he believed her. Acting as if nothing had happened, she and Benjin left as quickly as they could, which turned out to be faster than Catrin had expected. As soon as Rolph untied Curly, the ox charged toward town. Catrin and Benjin bounced along in the oxcart, barely able to keep themselves from flying off. The charge did not last long, though, and Curly slowed, unable to maintain the pace for a long distance. The jostling became bearable, and Catrin glanced at Benjin, who had not said a word.
"You are your father's daughter, of that there can be no doubt," he said, shaking his head.
"He was in so much pain because of the crier's lies. I couldn't let him believe his sons were all dead at my hand when they most likely live; it would've been too cruel."
Benjin didn't harass her any further about it, and they rode in silence for a while, heading on a westerly course.
"Do you think we should make for Adderhold?" she asked, if for no other reason than to break the uncomfortable silence.
"I suppose we haven't much choice. There's little chance of us getting anywhere near the statue while it's being transported, though I'm not sure we have any chance of getting near it when it arrives at Adderhold either. We'd have to pass through lands held by your family and those held by their rivals, the Kytes. A more dangerous path I cannot imagine. Do you know what you will do when we get there?"
"I have no idea, but I must try. It would be cowardly of me to turn my back on these people. The people of the Greatland would pay the greatest price for the Zjhon's folly, and I cannot allow that to happen. I just hope we're right about the true nature of the statue. I can find no way to prove our beliefs or disprove the beliefs of the Zjhon. I suppose I'll have to act on faith alone."
"Blind faith," Benjin said.
"Blind faith, indeed," Catrin said. She hoped some other solution or some bit of proof that would allow her to believe more firmly would present itself, but none came.
Following a narrow cart path, they passed local farmers on their way. Folks waved as they passed, and they returned the waves, trying to appear as if they belonged there. Benjin urged Curly to pick up the pace. Curly would have none of it, though, and set his own pace, despite Benjin's clucks, chirps, and more than a few smacks on the rear with the lines.
As night fell, they entered more heavily settled lands, and the lights of a distant town shone on the horizon. Reflections of the lights could be seen in the wide river that lay on the far side of town. A copse of oak and elm stood on a nearby hill, and Benjin steered Curly toward it as best he could. Curly resisted his direction, and they nearly rode past the trees, but Benjin managed to get him stopped. At the bottom of the hill, Benjin handed Catrin the lines and climbed from the cart. After retrieving an ear of corn, he lured Curly into the trees.
Curly chewed noisily on the corn while Benjin tied him off to a tree. Once Curly was unhooked and taken care of, they set up a small camp and ate sparingly from their provisions. They lit no fire, for fear of drawing attention to themselves, and they spent a long night huddled together for warmth.
Inherited Danger Page 55
