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Chapter 4:- A KNOCK AT THE DOOR
I am Fair’s secret speaker, Liver. Please excuse me while Lariel’s secret speaker, Blue Toe, narrates this chapter for me. He told me it was important that you know this part of the story. Since Fair isn’t in the room and I can only see what she sees, I would only be giving you second-hand information. I’d much rather you had it right from the Blue Toe’s mouth.
**************************************************************
Lariel sat eating at her small table just after the sun came up. She heard a loud pounding at the door.
She finished her bite of gruel and wiped her mouth. As she approached the door, her hand went to the red scarf on her head. She took a deep breath in to steady herself and lifted the latch. So far, the morning was playing out just as she had expected.
“Yes?”
A tall Protector stood in front of her. His look was not the least bit forgiving. “Just checking on you, lady. You wouldn’t be going anywhere’s today would you?”
A gravelly voice boomed from the direction of the fireplace in the next room. “That, she would not.”
Lariel quickly looked over her shoulder, then back again. She said, “No, I don’t need to go into town today. The neighbor’s taken my offering in for the rendering, like always. I’m not breaking any law.”
“That’s not what I mean. Today would be your daughter’s thirteenth birthday. You’d be preparing for a little celebration, I’m thinking.” He looked over Lariel’s shoulder and tried to get a peek into the house.
Lariel held on to the doorpost for support. She needed it. She also hoped she would be convincing. The gods give me strength, she thought. She looked over the Protector’s head and paused as though she were counting the days.
She looked into his eyes for a moment and said, “That’s right. It would have been today.” All the years that she kept her daughter hidden flooded into her mind. The nights she had stayed awake to read with her daughter had taken a toll on her. The nights blended into day. She usually came up out of the cellar once the sun came up, to keep her house in order. So little sleep.
The thing that pulled at her most was knowing how hard it had been for her wee daughter. And where was her son? But Fair was alive. Harrold King had not taken her. Now he never could. Fair no longer belonged to just her. She now belonged to the hoomin. The day of her maidenhood, therefore, needed to be public.
That’s the way things were in Cloven Grave. Once Fair belonged to the hoomin. Harrold King wouldn’t dare incur the wrath of a mob. Or would he? Lariel had wondered. He was so unpredictable. Her eyes brimmed with tears. They were real tears from years of worry, “Now if you’ll please be on your way. I’d like to be left alone.” She began to close the door.
“Not so fast, lady.” The Protector shouldered his way past her and said, “I’ll be having myself a wee look around the place, I will.” He strode from room to room. When he saw only one bed, Lariel’s bed, he seemed satisfied. As he prepared to leave he had a thought and stopped. He strode into the kitchen. He looked at the hutch and saw two bowls, with steaming gruel in them. He saw two mugs.
He tipped his cap to the Protector who sat near the crackling fireplace and said, “I see you beat me to it. You’re the woman’s brother, ain’tcha.”
Lariel’s brother nodded in greeting, “Been here since last night. Strange thing. Thought my sister was lyin’ all them years.”
He leaned back in a chair by the morning fire with his fingers laced across his belly. His legs were stretched out in such a way as to suggest that he didn’t plan on doing the slightest bit of work that day. Small bushes of red hair sprouted from his bulbous nose, which was covered with a map of purple veins.
Her brother sat and pondered the fire. “There’s a nice price for being an informer, there is. You disappointed me, Lariel.” He fished in his ear for a good-sized piece of earwax, and, upon finding the object of his desire, sent it sailing into the fire with a well-aimed flick of his thumb, where it popped and sizzled.
Lariel quietly said, “You are no brother of mine.” She’d had enough. She picked up a broom. She started swinging it in the air as though she were trying to scare a fox away from her chickens and said, “Get out of here, both of you. I want to be left alone.”
The broom came so close to her brother’s nose with the next swing, that he had to cross eyes when it flew past. He pulled his chin in.. The movement made him lose his balance. He grabbed uselessly at the air and leaned forward, just as the chair went backwards. He landed with a grunt. Lariel tried not to smile. Her brother got up with a huff and kicked the chair. “We’re done here.”
The other Protector slapped his comrade on the back. “You ain’t fit to keep watch. The Harrold should of hired yer sister instead.”
Her brother shot him a wicked glance to shush him.
The Protector grew serious, “You ain’t seen no signs of her wee hoomin girl? Ever?”
“Not a one.”
Lariel breathed a silent sigh of relief. Her brother had arrived just after Fair scrambled into the back of the wagon.
The Protector said, “No matter. I’ll be keeping my eye on the place the rest of the day, you know. I’ve got my suspicions.”
He paused and looked at Lariel with a penetrating gaze, “We never saw the body.”
Then they were both gone.
Once the door was closed, Lariel leaned back against the door. She slid down against the wood and slumped over her knees. Completely numb. Her body felt drained. After a bit of time she crawled over to a striped rug in the pantry and lay down. She chuckled to herself when she remembered seeing her brother topple over, his legs and boots waving upside down in the air—and her swinging a broom. She hadn’t known she had it in her. She pressed her cheek against the rug and closed her eyes.
She fell into the first restful sleep she had known in years. Beneath her, beneath the striped rug, lay the secret door to the cellar where Fair had been dead to the world for the last nine years. The grave was empty. Her daughter was alive.
I am Fair’s secret speaker, Liver. Please excuse me while Lariel’s secret speaker, Blue Toe, narrates this chapter for me. He told me it was important that you know this part of the story. Since Fair isn’t in the room and I can only see what she sees, I would only be giving you second-hand information. I’d much rather you had it right from the Blue Toe’s mouth.
**************************************************************
Lariel sat eating at her small table just after the sun came up. She heard a loud pounding at the door.
She finished her bite of gruel and wiped her mouth. As she approached the door, her hand went to the red scarf on her head. She took a deep breath in to steady herself and lifted the latch. So far, the morning was playing out just as she had expected.
“Yes?”
A tall Protector stood in front of her. His look was not the least bit forgiving. “Just checking on you, lady. You wouldn’t be going anywhere’s today would you?”
A gravelly voice boomed from the direction of the fireplace in the next room. “That, she would not.”
Lariel quickly looked over her shoulder, then back again. She said, “No, I don’t need to go into town today. The neighbor’s taken my offering in for the rendering, like always. I’m not breaking any law.”
“That’s not what I mean. Today would be your daughter’s thirteenth birthday. You’d be preparing for a little celebration, I’m thinking.” He looked over Lariel’s shoulder and tried to get a peek into the house.
Lariel held on to the doorpost for support. She needed it. She also hoped she would be convincing. The gods give me strength, she thought. She looked over the Protector’s head and paused as though she were counting the days.
She looked into his eyes for a moment and said, “That’s right. It would have been today.” All the years that she kept her daughter hidden flooded into her mind. The nights she had stayed awake to read with her daughter had taken a toll on her. The nights blended into day. She usually came up out of the cellar once the sun came up, to keep her house in order. So little sleep.
The thing that pulled at her most was knowing how hard it had been for her wee daughter. And where was her son? But Fair was alive. Harrold King had not taken her. Now he never could. Fair no longer belonged to just her. She now belonged to the hoomin. The day of her maidenhood, therefore, needed to be public.
That’s the way things were in Cloven Grave. Once Fair belonged to the hoomin. Harrold King wouldn’t dare incur the wrath of a mob. Or would he? Lariel had wondered. He was so unpredictable. Her eyes brimmed with tears. They were real tears from years of worry, “Now if you’ll please be on your way. I’d like to be left alone.” She began to close the door.
“Not so fast, lady.” The Protector shouldered his way past her and said, “I’ll be having myself a wee look around the place, I will.” He strode from room to room. When he saw only one bed, Lariel’s bed, he seemed satisfied. As he prepared to leave he had a thought and stopped. He strode into the kitchen. He looked at the hutch and saw two bowls, with steaming gruel in them. He saw two mugs.
He tipped his cap to the Protector who sat near the crackling fireplace and said, “I see you beat me to it. You’re the woman’s brother, ain’tcha.”
Lariel’s brother nodded in greeting, “Been here since last night. Strange thing. Thought my sister was lyin’ all them years.”
He leaned back in a chair by the morning fire with his fingers laced across his belly. His legs were stretched out in such a way as to suggest that he didn’t plan on doing the slightest bit of work that day. Small bushes of red hair sprouted from his bulbous nose, which was covered with a map of purple veins.
Her brother sat and pondered the fire. “There’s a nice price for being an informer, there is. You disappointed me, Lariel.” He fished in his ear for a good-sized piece of earwax, and, upon finding the object of his desire, sent it sailing into the fire with a well-aimed flick of his thumb, where it popped and sizzled.
Lariel quietly said, “You are no brother of mine.” She’d had enough. She picked up a broom. She started swinging it in the air as though she were trying to scare a fox away from her chickens and said, “Get out of here, both of you. I want to be left alone.”
The broom came so close to her brother’s nose with the next swing, that he had to cross eyes when it flew past. He pulled his chin in.. The movement made him lose his balance. He grabbed uselessly at the air and leaned forward, just as the chair went backwards. He landed with a grunt. Lariel tried not to smile. Her brother got up with a huff and kicked the chair. “We’re done here.”
The other Protector slapped his comrade on the back. “You ain’t fit to keep watch. The Harrold should of hired yer sister instead.”
Her brother shot him a wicked glance to shush him.
The Protector grew serious, “You ain’t seen no signs of her wee hoomin girl? Ever?”
“Not a one.”
Lariel breathed a silent sigh of relief. Her brother had arrived just after Fair scrambled into the back of the wagon.
The Protector said, “No matter. I’ll be keeping my eye on the place the rest of the day, you know. I’ve got my suspicions.”
He paused and looked at Lariel with a penetrating gaze, “We never saw the body.”
Then they were both gone.
Once the door was closed, Lariel leaned back against the door. She slid down against the wood and slumped over her knees. Completely numb. Her body felt drained. After a bit of time she crawled over to a striped rug in the pantry and lay down. She chuckled to herself when she remembered seeing her brother topple over, his legs and boots waving upside down in the air—and her swinging a broom. She hadn’t known she had it in her. She pressed her cheek against the rug and closed her eyes.
She fell into the first restful sleep she had known in years. Beneath her, beneath the striped rug, lay the secret door to the cellar where Fair had been dead to the world for the last nine years. The grave was empty. Her daughter was alive.
