the fire, and seeing to the house.
My child was fast asleep. Often when his night was so difficult, he would
sleep all through one day and into the next, while I had no choice but to toil
despite my fatigue.
Pellen would return hungry from his shop
and I had nothing to give him. Barely a cup was left of the bone soup,
certainly not enough to feed three. My bread box was similarly empty with only
a hard heel of black bread and a few crumbs of something green with mold.
Pellen would eat it. He’d scrape off the
mold and toast whatever remained over the fire, while giving the black bread
heel to Amyr, who would savor it as if it was a delicacy.
“Have some, Mama,” my good child would
say, breaking the tiny piece in two. My sickly angel would share the last
crumb even if it meant he would die instead.
I would shake my head. “You need it more
than I.” And, I would eat nothing, for I was healthy despite my lack of food.
Embo might bring me a bit of dried fish
later, in exchange for mending her gentleman’s coat. I might find a spare root
in between my garden weeds, with which I could turn the two of them into a
soup. The hunger never bothered me anymore. In fact, the memory alone of the
large banquets at my grandmother’s table would turn my stomach inside out, or
roil it with bile.
Instead, I pushed those images from my
mind and concentrated on my sewing, while listening for the steady intake of my
child’s breath. In and out. In and out. He slept peacefully until the
gunshots sounded in the distance. Heavy booms rocked the house as if thunder
was directly overhead even though the day was clear and the sky empty, save a
single forlorn cloud.
My front door swung open, causing me to
shriek with fright, but it was only Jan come running from next door.
“They’re here!” my niece gasped
breathlessly. “The neighbor says it is the Duke’s army come to take us from
our village and enslave us in their work camps. We need to hide!”
“Hide where? Hide how? How do you know
this, child?” I tossed the sewing aside, glancing at Amyr, whose eyes were
still heavily closed.
“Everyone is running to the forest!” Jan
jumped up and down like a petulant child, while the sounds of more guns echoed
across the street. “Mama is packing us a bag. You best do it too. Five
minutes, Mama says, and we must be gone.”
A bag of what? I had nothing worth
keeping other than the rags on my back, or this gentleman’s coat which I could
wrap around Amyr. But, how could I carry him to the forest, and what of my
husband? If the Duke’s army was truly here, Pellen might already be dead.
“I can carry Amyr,” Jan offered, answering
the question before it left my lips. “I have to hurry now to help Mama, but
I’ll return and hoist him upon my back.”
The door slammed again and still Amyr
didn’t stir. Someone screamed in the alley, and I froze. I couldn’t run away
to hide in the forest among the trees. I had lived like this once before,
vowing never again to sleep where there was no roof above my head.
Grandmother’s voice spoke, although only I
could hear her in the back of my brain.
“You are strong, Ailana. You are like
me. You will fight and you will survive no matter the cost.”
“What of my son, Grandmother?” I asked.
Amyr coughed then, interrupting my silent
conversation. At the same time, the fire crackled, a flame suddenly shooting
upward, sending light and heat across the room.
I tamped it down and rose to my feet,
standing over Amyr on the couch. What of this child, this useless, sickly boy
who was too weak to walk?
If we stayed and the army came, surely they
would kill him first. However, if I took him to the forest, his presence would
weigh the others down. We’d have to carry him everywhere. He might have a
spell and call out when we must be quiet. He might kill us all simply by
trying to save his
My child was fast asleep. Often when his night was so difficult, he would
sleep all through one day and into the next, while I had no choice but to toil
despite my fatigue.
Pellen would return hungry from his shop
and I had nothing to give him. Barely a cup was left of the bone soup,
certainly not enough to feed three. My bread box was similarly empty with only
a hard heel of black bread and a few crumbs of something green with mold.
Pellen would eat it. He’d scrape off the
mold and toast whatever remained over the fire, while giving the black bread
heel to Amyr, who would savor it as if it was a delicacy.
“Have some, Mama,” my good child would
say, breaking the tiny piece in two. My sickly angel would share the last
crumb even if it meant he would die instead.
I would shake my head. “You need it more
than I.” And, I would eat nothing, for I was healthy despite my lack of food.
Embo might bring me a bit of dried fish
later, in exchange for mending her gentleman’s coat. I might find a spare root
in between my garden weeds, with which I could turn the two of them into a
soup. The hunger never bothered me anymore. In fact, the memory alone of the
large banquets at my grandmother’s table would turn my stomach inside out, or
roil it with bile.
Instead, I pushed those images from my
mind and concentrated on my sewing, while listening for the steady intake of my
child’s breath. In and out. In and out. He slept peacefully until the
gunshots sounded in the distance. Heavy booms rocked the house as if thunder
was directly overhead even though the day was clear and the sky empty, save a
single forlorn cloud.
My front door swung open, causing me to
shriek with fright, but it was only Jan come running from next door.
“They’re here!” my niece gasped
breathlessly. “The neighbor says it is the Duke’s army come to take us from
our village and enslave us in their work camps. We need to hide!”
“Hide where? Hide how? How do you know
this, child?” I tossed the sewing aside, glancing at Amyr, whose eyes were
still heavily closed.
“Everyone is running to the forest!” Jan
jumped up and down like a petulant child, while the sounds of more guns echoed
across the street. “Mama is packing us a bag. You best do it too. Five
minutes, Mama says, and we must be gone.”
A bag of what? I had nothing worth
keeping other than the rags on my back, or this gentleman’s coat which I could
wrap around Amyr. But, how could I carry him to the forest, and what of my
husband? If the Duke’s army was truly here, Pellen might already be dead.
“I can carry Amyr,” Jan offered, answering
the question before it left my lips. “I have to hurry now to help Mama, but
I’ll return and hoist him upon my back.”
The door slammed again and still Amyr
didn’t stir. Someone screamed in the alley, and I froze. I couldn’t run away
to hide in the forest among the trees. I had lived like this once before,
vowing never again to sleep where there was no roof above my head.
Grandmother’s voice spoke, although only I
could hear her in the back of my brain.
“You are strong, Ailana. You are like
me. You will fight and you will survive no matter the cost.”
“What of my son, Grandmother?” I asked.
Amyr coughed then, interrupting my silent
conversation. At the same time, the fire crackled, a flame suddenly shooting
upward, sending light and heat across the room.
I tamped it down and rose to my feet,
standing over Amyr on the couch. What of this child, this useless, sickly boy
who was too weak to walk?
If we stayed and the army came, surely they
would kill him first. However, if I took him to the forest, his presence would
weigh the others down. We’d have to carry him everywhere. He might have a
spell and call out when we must be quiet. He might kill us all simply by
trying to save his
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