5.13.18 edit
Chapter 16
For the better part of a month we took turns riding the donkey and following the roads and rivers across the countryside until the smell of the ocean was a distant memory. It seemed like we covered hundreds of miles a day, which was not possible, but conversation made the days go fast.
"Should I name him?" I asked my uncle one late afternoon.
"Yes," he answered. "Next week's supper if she doesn't keep walking."
"She," I reminded myself. As if I had insulted the donkey, she nudged me in the lower back with her nose and sent me flying forward.
I named her Moon because of the mark on her ear, although she never seemed answer to it unless I had food in my hand. She responded better to "You stupid beast", which my uncle constantly said under his breath. With a grin he said it was a more suitable name, though he didn't disagree with the name I had given my new pet.
"Names are important," he said to me. I had never thought much of my own name, but I nodded in agreement. As the weeks passed, I realized I had started to refer to him more as my uncle and less as The Shadow. I liked the sound of our names together, especially when we met people on the road and he quickly introduced us by saying, "My name is Alak and this is my nephew Erik." I thought he sounded quite proud of me, and that had never happened before.
With each passing day I walked longer and rode less. My legs were stronger, my steps quicker. When I looked at my reflection in a stream I noticed the physical changes in my appearance. No longer was I a scrawny, underfed child bitten by fleas and unkempt from weeks spent in solitude. My hair needed to be cut, but I had gained weight with frequent meals and I swore I grown taller. My arms and shoulders were sinewy from labor, my legs thicker from hours of walking.
When I bathed I scrubbed tanned arms, void of bruises. It amazed me that I was capable of healing so completely. I'd thought the deep, black contusions would last a lifetime. In a way they would, but not on the surface. I hadn't figured out how to remove the deeper ones yet, the ones that drove me from deep sleep and startled me awake in the middle of the night, but in time, with my uncle's guidance, I knew I could erase them all.
For once I looked at myself and felt a sense of pride. Two months after we left my parents' home and I was a new person, both inside and out.
Of course, I was not void of my shortcomings, but my uncle was a patient teacher and pleasant company. When I ripped my shirt on a low tree branch I had not seen, he showed me in the evening how to repair the fabric. I carelessly leaped off fallen trees into creeks, once landing in water so shallow I was fortunate I did not break my leg. Rather than a beating or harsh word, my uncle shook his head and asked what I should have done differently to keep myself from risking injury. I learned what plants to avoid, how to catch rabbits for supper, and cook our meals.
Each day ended with a visit to a lake or a creek—whichever was nearest. We washed our clothes, caught our food, and enjoyed each other's company. Sometimes we said little, other times he told me stories and grinned as I hung on each word.
"Do I bore you, my child?" he asked one day as he beat his shirt against a rock.
I shook my head. I could listen to him for hours and never be bored—even if he told the same story twice.
"Good, because by tomorrow I'll have run out of stories." He winked and stood, tossing his shirt beside his pants. "It's so hot I'm surprised the river hasn't boiled all the fish."
I nodded and wrung out my shirt. Perspiration dripped down my forehead and lingered between my mask and my face. It caused my skin to itch but I didn't dare remove my only covering. We had seen boys hunting on the outskirts of a nearby farm. Until I was certain they were gone, I would suffer.
"Erik, do you hear that?" The Shadow whispered.
I froze, holding my breath to listen. I heard nothing.
"It sounds like…a mocking bird. Do you hear it?" He pointed toward the tree branches overhead and I curiously followed his gaze.
One by one I studied the gnarled branches but there was nothing but an angry red squirrel. I was about to tell my uncle that I couldn't find it when water splashed up and soaked my clothes and hair.
Mouth agape, I stood on the rocks and stared at the bubbles in the water before he emerged, his hair plastered to his face. He laughed to himself, flicked his wet fingers at me, and dared me to join him.
I couldn't toss my clothes aside fast enough. With a grin as wide as the river, I catapulted into the water, knees tucked to my chest in order to send a wave across the banks. When I dove in I sank to the bottom and felt the smooth, cool rocks against my toes. Bubbles emerged from my nostrils as I lingered beneath the surface and watched the last rays of sun dance along the ripples.
"Ah, this is better than listening to an old man ramble," he said as he waded toward me. "My son—the youngest one—he could listen as you do. But the older one never cared much for an old windbag." He laughed to himself. "Such different personalities for boys who looked like twins, yet born years apart."
"What were their names?" I blurted out.
He smiled, a morose expression. "The oldest is Valagard Joshua, but his mother always called him Joshua. The youngest was named after me."
"Alak," I said.
"Their mother named them both."
"And your middle son?" I asked. I knew he had three sons and wondered why he rarely mentioned the middle boy. The oldest one had left home at a young age, but he did not say why. The youngest, Alak, had died before he could walk, but the middle boy was a mystery.
He smiled, but seemed somewhat saddened I had brought up his middle child. "Phelan. I have not spoken to him in a very long time." His voice seemed distant, and he shook his head at last. "Enough of an old man's ramblings. How long can you hold your breath?"
Carefully I removed my mask and set it aside. The boys had traveled away from the river as the sunlight was fading. I could hide in the cloak of darkness, which was far more comfortable than a wet cloth mask. I pursed my lips as I considered his question.
"I could hold my breath for an hour." I had no idea what made me decide on such a lofty and ridiculous amount of time, but I nodded resolutely before I chuckled to myself.
My uncle splashed water at my chest. "You best not bet your supper, my child." He jabbed me in the ribs and made a playful growling noise that made me scrunch my abdomen and laugh to myself. "Unless you have grown some gills."
"No gills," I said with a grin. I reached a shallow part of the water and stood upright to show him my sides. "See?"
He stepped closer and squinted. "Let me get a better look," he said before he grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the water.
The sun set as we raced one another across the water and played catch with a crab apple. Moon watched us a while as she ate grass and combated flies. I wished she could join us rather than be forced to stand at a distance, but my uncle told me donkeys weren't fond of swimming, and so I eventually turned away and enjoyed the night swim.
More often than not I found myself smiling for no other reason than I was at my uncle's side.
"In a day we will enter France. Then what would you like to see? Paris, Budapest, or Rome?"
I wanted to see all three, which apparently showed in my eyes.
"Which one would you like to see first?"
"Rome," I answered.
"A good choice."
"And then Paris."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied by my voracious curiosity. "Joshua lives outside of Paris. Perhaps you'll entertain him with your violin while we're in Paris and the Pope while we're in Rome. I personally think it would be best to see my son first. The Pope will have to wait."
I chuckled at the idea of the Pope waiting for us to pay a visit and floated on my back, allowing the river to gently carry me. It was then that I noticed three figures in the were a distance away where I doubted they could see us as I could barely see them, but still their sudden appearance startled me. As swiftly as I could I scrambled to my feet and waded toward my uncle, stuttering as I attempted to alert him.
His eyes never left mine as he spoke. "You must watch your surroundings better, my son. They've been there for at least ten minutes."
I dressed behind the bushes and fumbled with my mask while my uncle scrambled into his trousers and was threading his arms through his shirt sleeves. He approached the man and two children—a girl much older than me, and a boy around my age. The man's clothes were clean but plain, but the boy and girl wore well-tailored clothing with brighter colors and satin buttons. They were cleaner than anyone I had ever seen with sharp, impatient features.
I stayed at a distance and watched my uncle greet them. He bowed deeply and took the girl's hand. She giggled when he flattered her with compliments and made a show of saying he was in her service. The conversation lasted longer than I expected with both the boy and presumably his sister charmed by my uncle's words and a few tricks he showed them. I had no idea what he did, but my uncle had the two of them break out in laughter as they clapped their hands.
"Their carriage broke down. They're looking for the nearest town to seek repairs and a place for the night," The Shadow explained once they left.
I nodded. We'd passed two that I could recall, both within an hour's walk.
He fidgeted with something in his scarred hand, which caught my attention. "What is that?" I craned my neck for a better view.
"Payment." He swiftly flashed a small gold ring in the palm of his hand before his fingers closed over it. "I warned them of thieves in the area."
"She gave you her ring?"
"One she'll never miss with the rest of the jewels on her fingers and around her neck."
I felt my lips part. Without a word he turned from me and I followed. I had no idea why I questioned him. I'd never questioned anyone as I was too fearful to do more than accept the world around me. But in exchange for the freedom he gave me, I had no fear of chaining him to my inquisitive mind.
"She-she didn't give it to you as payment, did she?"
"Not exactly."
My tongue felt knotted. "Did you...s-steal it?"
He paused abruptly and looked me over for a moment. I felt my breath catch in my throat as he met my eye, and for a brief moment I expected him to tell me to mind my own business or shove me away. Honestly I had no idea why I asked other than I feared the consequences of his actions. While I had stolen plenty of bread and dried meats when I escaped from the cellar, what I lifted was merely for my own survival. I was either going to eat for the night or starve for a week before I could escape again. Stealing a ring off a woman's hand seemed unnecessary.
"She's far too young and concerned with her appearance to carry such jewels. If she ever discovers that it's missing she'll forget the compliments and guard her jewels."
"Why did you want it?"
A grim smile touched the corners of his lips as he turned to face me. "It will buy two nights under a roof when it's pouring rain, or a week's worth of meals when our bellies are empty. What is it to her but a mere ornament? It was outshining her radiant, slender hands. Trust me, Erik, she won't miss it."
"It's not…wrong?"
Perhaps it was my desire to be good—or my fear of being caught-that made me pose such a question. Relatively speaking I understood right from wrong, but there was a great unfairness in life that made it seem somewhat pointless. It was wrong for my parents to lock me away beneath their home and yet there was no consequence for their actions. It was wrong for my father to strike me until I lost consciousness and yet he did so frequently. It was wrong for me to steal bread, even if did it to survive, but still I felt the heaviness of guilt when I took my first bite. And it was most certainly wrong for my uncle to take a ring that was not his, even if it greatly benefited our survival. I wondered if the girl would be in trouble with her parents once they realized a piece of jewelry was missing. I hated to think of her being physically punished for my uncle's slight of hand.
"Did she look like a young woman who has ever suffered? She's an aristocrat, my boy. They know silver spoons and silken pillows."
I wanted to protest his words as I knew from experience that simply because one looked a certain way did not mean that dictated how they were inside. Perhaps she did suffer daily. Perhaps her parents ushered her away to live with relatives and she missed them. Perhaps beneath her beautiful dress she bore bruises from her father. I did not wish to judge others as swiftly as they judged me-at least not yet.
"What do we know, hmm?" His tone was somewhat angry, and I looked away. "Sleeping in ferns, hiding by day…riding a donkey." A humorless chuckle left his lips, but I didn't manage a smile. I wasn't sure if he had insulted me or if it was merely his way of pointing out our different lots in life.
"It's only a ring, Erik. Petty, to say the least." His tone lightened, but I was still on edge, even when he nudged me in the side. "If she returns for it, I will tell her we found it in the dirt. What do you say?"
My stomach tightened but I didn't question him further. I didn't want to know more or give another second of thought to his actions in fear that my view of him would become distorted—or possibly come into clarity. At last I nodded as I felt he expected me to answer him.
"A warm bed," The Shadow sighed. "How does luxury sound to you, my son?"
"Good," I mumbled. Thoughts of his home and his dead son's bed crept into my mind. Warm, safe, comfortable…yes, that's what I wanted to feel again. A proper meal cooked, a quilt to snuggle into and fall asleep in. A night without a spider crawling up my arm or water dripping from the cellar ceiling. He was giving me more than anyone had ever offered in the past and I wanted to be grateful, even if I did not agree with the way he obtained our food and shelter. Necessities for survival, I reminded myself. We had not harmed anyone, at least not physically.
"It sounds good to me too."
We made our camp and settled in for the night. The air was warm and still enough where a blanket was unnecessary, but still I wanted to feel myself wrapped up. I pulled the blankets tight around me, almost to the point where I was swaddled like an infant. Something about the closeness made me feel less alone.
"Uncle?" I whispered after a long silence.
He'd already closed his eyes. "Yes, my child?"
"I-I apologize."
"You've done nothing wrong." He exhaled and our conversation came to an end.
That night I dreamt of a warm fire and soft bed sheets, of a girl and a ring she wouldn't miss. It was a small price to pay for our comfort. In the end, I decided he was correct. We simply needed to survive.