Chapter 2: Fall, Malvina
The hay bale they sat her on made her itch something fierce. It gave off a dusty mildew smell that made her want to wrinkle her nose, but she refrained. The first time Addison had pulled a face, after she'd been hefted out of the mud, was at the stench of the breath of the man who'd done the hefting. She'd detected the alcohol of course, it was practically leaking out of his pores, but it was the rot that had her reeling from the stench. She hadn't gotten very far in her attempt to escape the man's dental decay when one shaking, sweaty palm reached up and pressed her face into a more agreeable expression. Once her brow lost its furrow, he'd nodded resolutely to himself, muttered something in a thick brogue she couldn't even pretend to understand, turned to his brethren horde of drunkards and smelly men, and shouted the term forcefully back at them. Whatever he had said was met with a chorus of "Ayes," "Arghs" and "O Hos" as though whatever had just happened made perfect sense to them. Then he turned back to her, grabbed her by the elbow and gestured for her quite clumsily to follow his lead. The group of men at his back returned to their leaning against the wooden posts and stones that supported the structure they'd been drinking in. They chattered and slurred amongst themselves good naturedly in an odd language she'd never heard before.
The man at her elbow had then resolutely shoved her onto a hay bale, muttering something at her and making a hand gesture that indicated maybe that he wanted her to stay put. He disappeared into another hovel like structure, settled low in the dirt and supported by wooden posts and stones, and came out with a tired looking young woman who couldn't have been much older than the girl. Three pairs of eyes peeked out of the thatched window behind the woman and a chorus of childlike whispers sounded as they discovered the mysterious foreign girl that Old Man MacPhearson had brought for them. The woman studied her and said something in that gruff, unforgiving tongue that everyone else had been speaking, but the girl on the hay bale just stared blankly back at her. Lost for words and still trying to figure out whether or not she was caught in some strange dream.
It had been sunny back home. A lovely, bright, crisp fall day. The weather had only just begun to turn towards chillier temperatures, and Addison had tucked herself away in the comforts of a local cafe. There had been a pleasant clamor of voices and espresso machines and dishes clanking all around, mixing together with the sound of a playlist one of the employees had turned on over the din. This was the usual evening rush of undergrads and local regulars. One minute, Addison was quietly singing along to The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, sipping her latte and scrolling through her phone, and the next she found herself driven to distraction by an odd sound. A buzzing. Loud and persistent. It grew, gradually, into a crescendo so forceful she felt the ground vibrate beneath her. The hair on her arms stood on end as the sound grew louder and closer still. She stood up in alarm. Swinging her head around the café to place the source of the noise, but no one else seemed to be bothered by it. No one else seemed to notice. People milled about and carried on as though the buzzing hadn't turned into a roar. As though it hadn't drowned out everything else. There was nothing left but this sound. It rocked through her violently, sent her staggering and then quite suddenly it struck her into stillness. Inexplicable as it was, her body had seized up. She was frozen where she stood, and though her feet, she knew, were still planted on the ground, it was as though her entire body had been suspended in the air above her. Lifted by an invisible thread that spooled out of her belly, her limbs had fallen to weightlessness. Her abdomen, taut from the pull of the invisible spool, distended as something on the other end gave a wild tug. Then her eyes rolled back, and Addison knew no more.
She floated in darkness. Felt it expand and contract around her. It was an interminable thing, the darkness. It made her skin clam up, caused her heart to tremble. Wherever she was, stretched across space and time, she had the distinct feeling she wasn't meant to be pulled this way. That she wasn't meant to be here. Her skin rolled over itself as though in the anticipation of some great and terrible fear, but despite the urge to feel afraid, the darkness served as a sort of analgesic, a sort of numbing paralytic. It had frozen her like wild but captured prey.
And then the world rushed up to meet her, and she met it with equal force, face first on the ground in a jumble of limbs and mud and hair.
Addison came back from her thoughts at the first splatter of raindrops across her skin. The woman had been speaking to her, but Addison didn't understand a word of what she was trying to say. The man who'd brought her to the hut had patted the strange woman on the shoulder, nodded at Addison and turned back the way he came, calling something over his shoulder to them as he did. The rain was thick. It fell sideways, but he didn't seem much bothered by it as Addison was. No, the only other person who seemed bothered in any capacity was the woman in front of her. The woman with three children who had been pulled from her home by an inebriated, smelly man, and who, it seemed to Addison, had just regrettably acquired another mouth to feed. Still seated on the hay bale, she couldn't help but grimace apologetically at the stranger for the unfortunate turn of events.
Her host, it turned out, was as unhappy to have her as Addison originally imagined. The children had giggled as their mother fired off a series of rapid instructions at her, only for Addison to try to communicate that she could not understand a lick of what was being said. The woman, exasperated, grabbed her hand, and dragged her into the hut. Once they were inside, Addison saw that there was a small fire going with a rough looking metal pot suspended over the flames. Some sort of stew was bubbling within it, and a quick glance told Addison that there was not much to go around. It was a deeply discomforting realization. She'd never been one to put people out, had always felt too embarrassed to make anyone feel inconvenienced ever, and now here she was...hungry and cold and desperate and fantasizing, just a little bit, of fighting one of the children for their portion of the food. Shame coursed through her at the thought. The children were all curiosity and smiles. And the woman, despite her rough handling and stern tone, was still gesturing for her to take her seat around the fire. Inviting her to join them and partake in their meal.
So, Addison sat. They ate in silence. And she tried not to pull a face at the flavor of the food. It was...rustic. That's what she was going to call it. The food was rustic. Unseasoned and full of all the flavors nature could offer really. And that was...totally fucking fine. She was fine. And even though she was lying to herself blatantly about the flavor and texture of whatever it was she had just consumed — and she was quickly beginning to think it was best not to ask what they fed her — she did feel grateful that it warmed her belly and filled her up. She said so to the woman who heard only her foreign speech for a jumble of unintelligible words and studied her with weary eyes.
Once the food was done and the children were sleeping. Her host grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to a mat on the floor. It was covered in furs and fabrics that reminded Addison of burlap. Then the woman gently nudged her, encouraging her to lay down. Addison did as she was told, only to jump a bit in surprise when the woman crawled in behind her. The fire was still burning, banked and low, but enough to give off heat, though Addison still was freezing despite all that. The woman pulled the furs over them and burrowed in close to her. Addison stared back at her, wide eyed and deeply uncomfortable.
The woman — unfazed by Addison's alarm — simply pointed at her and said the word that the old drunk man had shouted earlier. "Malvina."
Addison furrowed her brow and shook her head. The woman reached up and smoothed the wrinkles away with a small, cynical laugh. She pointed at herself and said Ailios. Then she pointed at Addison and repeated Malvina.
Names.
These were names. But Addison wasn't Malvina. She was Addison. She shook her head and pointed back at herself and said so before pointing back at Ailios and making a valiant attempt at pronouncing the woman's name properly.
The woman shook her head, slapped Addison's hand down and pointed sternly back at her.
"Malvina."
She followed it up with a series of rapid-fire words that got sterner and more foreboding as she spoke, her hand gesturing broadly to the world outside their hut. Then she pointed one final time at Addison, her finger jabbing pointedly into her chest and repeated the girl's new name. Addison could do nothing more than nod along nervously. The woman gruffed out another word. Addison had the feeling Ailios wanted to hear it from her that she would go along with this — whatever it was exactly. Addison hesitantly pointed at herself and said with no small amount of uncertainty "Malvina."
The woman studied her a moment longer before nodding in approval and closing her eyes. Her breathing evened out rather rapidly. The children too had long since fallen asleep. But Addison was wide awake, and her mind was spinning. Despite the mud and the smells and the bad food and the odd language — she felt like she hadn't fully registered whatever it was that was happening here. Felt as though she were still stuck in a dream. After what must have been hours, the fire had completely gone cold, and the dark of the night was just beginning to turn blue outside the small little hovel. Addison decided that if this was a dream maybe all she needed to do was fall asleep here in order to wake up where she most wanted to be. Home. She closed her eyes, gave way to her exhaustion, and burrowed deeper into the furs and the warmth that Ailios provided. In no time at all, Addison fell asleep.
A loud reprimand and the laughter of mischievous children jolted Addison out of what short and restless sleep she'd been able to find. The sun had barely broken up the dusk outside the window. She remembered watching the black sky turn blue before she fell asleep, remembered watching nighttime turn into the early hours of a new day when she'd finally closed her eyes. But now, Addison found herself staring out the thatched opening, confused. She was trying desperately to remember when exactly she'd gone camping. She didn't recognize what little surroundings she could see from this view, and she had no idea who she'd have gone with that would have brought children with them. She wracked her brain frantically for a clarifying memory to help her place herself, but she couldn't. There was no story she could tell herself that would make any sense. A few words spoken quietly from across the room sent her heart plummeting down from her chest to her stomach. It ripped the air out of her lungs and left her insides feeling harsh and cold. She had no idea what the woman had said, but it had done its damage just the same. Addison felt her body fall over on its side. She turned in horror to face her strange host and the grim reality that came with her. Addison's elbow hit the dirt hard, and the rest of her body weight fell on it painfully; her arm buckled under the pressure, digging further down into the earth. A chill jolted through her body from her elbow. The ground was cold, and Addison wondered if there would be frost on the grass outside of this hut she'd slept in. The woman, Ailios, studied her from the other side of the fire, which was once again built up and burning. The pot was sitting above it again and Addison's stomach rolled at the thought of whatever was inside of it. It didn't much smell like something meant for eating. She swallowed and looked away from her reluctant guardian's searching expression.
The village was small but surprisingly lively, Addison found. And, although the people there regarded her suspiciously, it seemed they all looked very kindly on Ailios and her brood. She'd discovered quickly that she and Ailios lived on the outskirts of the village, where the less well-off serfs had been designated to live. The hovel that Ailios called home was at the base of a small hill, just an inch or so taller than Addison herself stood. She also learned it was an odd place for a woman to live alone without a man, and that the rest of the village was keenly aware of Ailios's precarious position near the edge of the woods. Though there were some huts and hovels between the Ailios and the woods proper — huts occupied by other small, impoverished families that wore rags on their backs and ate glorified twigs, (and the little game they could catch) for their dinners. The home Addison had been welcomed into was one that lived on the very brink of security.
Over the small hill that separated them from the rest of the village, there a rough trodden path, one that had been laid by the horses of the knights that road through to get to and from the castle, as well as by the wagons of merchants and the occasional farmer. That first morning, after ordering Addison out of bed and filling her belly with that Rustic Nature Stew — as Addison was now calling it — Ailios had wrapped her up in a thick cloak that seemed too long and masculine to belong to the short woman herself. It fell down and dragged along the ground obnoxiously, but it was warm and it covered Addison's odd state of dress. Even she wasn't out of it enough to think that walking around a village like this, in a pair of jeans and a Henley, would be taken well by the people who resided there. So Addison gratefully accepted the cloak and held it tightly closed, folding her arms nervously across her abdomen. Ailios had decided that Addison — who she was still adamantly calling Malvina —needed to be shown the lay of the land. She'd taken her by the elbow and led her along the path that wound from their hut to the rest of the village.
Ailios explained, though it meant very little to Malvina, that they needed the assistance of the midwife, Beatrix. Malvina would need fabric for a dress, or a dress already made up and ready for the coming cold. Malvina had a taller and fuller frame than Ailios, and the woman had only one other dress to call her own. She could tell either way just from looking at her charge that it would not fit her properly. The foreign girl was too tall, too wide, and too comely for her own good. She'd make few friends here of the women if Ailios didn't play things correctly, and she'd find herself on the receiving end of the wrong kind of male attention if she wasn't careful with how she dressed and behaved. There was no one Ailios trusted in this village as she trusted Beatrix, the woman who had brought her children into the world. And so, she'd resolved that they must make the journey across the village to the old healer and bid her assistance in this delicate matter.
On the way to the midwife, they had passed by a series of shacks and buildings that stood higher off the ground, and sturdier in build, than the ones near the woods. Addison had never been more grateful for her new guardian than she was during that journey across the strange village. Ailios had spoken easily to her as they went, hoping — though a bit skeptically — that if she kept speaking to Malvina as though they could understand each other that the gods would help the girl learn more quickly. The lost look on Malvina's face told her that her hopes could very well have been in vain.
Ailios gestured to one hut with an open section attached to it and said a word that Addison took to be an identifier of some sort. She could hear metal clanging from deep inside. Smoke billowed from the chimney, and a group of stern-looking men milled about the entrance with various weapons and tools resting loosely in their hands. The clanging stopped briefly as Addison and Ailios passed by, and a great behemoth of a man ducked out of the workspace holding a large axe that had to be as big as Addison's leg. Addison stuttered to a halt at the sight of it, watching in fear and fascination as the man handed it over to another man. While the owner of the axe ran a careful hand over the blade to examine the work that had been done to it, he pressed a handful of coins over to the great behemoth.
Ailios tugged at Addison's arm, bidding her to carry on. But Addison stayed put, fascinated by this new look at the people of this strange new world. Ailios muttered nervously at her. Several of the men had noticed the women as they'd passed by. When Addison had stopped to stare at them, even more took note of their presence. The man who Addison realized a bit belatedly must be the blacksmith, turned to see what had captured the men's interest and quirked his head curiously at the sight of Ailios and Addison.
He called over to Ailios who responded politely through gritted teeth at the attention they were receiving. She curtsied in the general direction of the other men who still openly stared at the women. Addison stood awkwardly before she felt Ailios tug her down into a stumbling curtsy of her own. Her guardian called out an awkward apology to the men, gesturing at Addison with fumbling hands before turning and making her escape, pulling the girl quickly along behind her.
The next building had a great stretched cowhide hanging at its entrance. A man sat on a stool there, tugging at one of the bindings that held the leather taut. He did not look up as the women passed. There was a woman in his yard working diligently in a small herb garden, Addison saw her notice them, but Ailios only called over her shoulder to the woman before ushering her charge further along.
They passed homes full of families doing chores, hunters with dead animals hanging loosely from belts and pitched over shoulders, tradesmen focused on their crafts, as well as servants, slaves, and tenants of all different types. For such a small village, Addison found it to still be teeming with life and variety in a way she hadn't anticipated. Its oldness was new to her in a way that was disgusting and terrifying and thrilling and repulsive.
Addison took in as much as she could around her and tried very hard to understand whatever it was Ailios was saying to her. She knew that these were attempts at explaining the inner workings of this new and terrifying world, and she could appreciate the woman's effort for what it was. She tried to use the little information she'd retained from her world history classes in high school to fill in the blanks. Thinking maybe she could use her limited knowledge to gain some sort of understanding of what culture she'd stumbled into. It wasn't much, but at the very least she could assure herself that she had landed somewhere feudal. And that... well that really sucked... but it was comforting at least to be able to put a term to what she was seeing. It made her feel a little saner to be able to diagnose whatever history this place was suffering from. However misguided it was, this made her feel closer to herself, and to her own time. To be able to see it from the distance of a chapter in an old schoolbook or a term in a glossary, helped her feel a little more like she had a grip on her mind and memory. It tethered her to a time and place that she didn't know she would ever be able find her way back to.
When they arrived at the entrance of the midwife's hut, Ailios held up a hand in what had become her gesture for Addison to stay where she was. She did as she was told, and Ailios entered the shack. A few minutes passed before the curtain that blocked the doorway drew back and an elderly woman appeared.
Beatrix, the midwife, had milky eyes and white hair. Her face was wrinkled and tired from a combination of bad weather and old age, but when she looked at Addison it felt as though she saw her clearly, deeply and more intimately than anyone ever had before. If Addison closed her eyes against the woman's gaze, she could have sworn the old midwife had taken a deep dive straight into her brain.
Addison brought a nervous hand up to scratch at her forehead, trying to drive away an itch that had formed there. The woman frowned at her. Ailios hovered nervously by the midwife's side glancing between the woman she obviously held in a very high regard, and her charge who she regarded — Addison was pretty sure — as a foreign invader. To be frank, Addison couldn't blame her for her fears — she herself entirely convinced she could trust this woman either. Not in what was sure to be a truly brutal place for anyone who wished to survive.
Addison did her best to hold the old woman's gaze but caved rather quickly under the knowing weight of it. She felt seen in a very visceral way. It made her shuffle her feet. Beatrix grunted something at Ailios who nodded and murmured quietly into her ear. Then the midwife turned back into her home, Ailios looked relieved and directed Addison through the curtain behind her with a stern swipe of her hand.
Inside, Addison was instructed gracelessly to sit by the fire. Ailios moved with confidence through the hut as though it were a second home to her, and Addison supposed that, with three children, this place would feel that way to Ailios. She could only imagine the comfort that midwives provided to women in places like this, and the power that comfort came with. The old woman sat across from Addison and waited for Ailios to finish grinding up a series of herbs. Before Addison knew it, a cup of steaming tea had been poured and shoved into her hands. Then Ailios sat on the other side of the fire — the three women forming a triangle around an open flame. The midwife reached over and tipped the cup to Addison's lips a bit forcefully, urging her to drink. Addison reluctantly did as she was told. It just smelled like mint and other leafy things. She didn't think it would kill her, but she wasn't super confident about that either.
Both women waited patiently and quietly for the girl to finish everything in her cup. When Addison swallowed down the last bit of tea, the old woman snatched the cup from her hands and stared down into it as though she were seeing something important there. The woman jolted, before leaning closer to stare at the leaves at the bottom. Startled, she set it carefully on the ground next to her, before turning to face Addison directly. Her voice was sharp, her attention direct and forceful, as she asked Addison a series of questions. Addison could have been imagining things, but she could have sworn she felt the ground between her, and the midwife begin to vibrate.
"I'm sorry, I can't understand you. I thought that Ailios explained," Addison grimaced and shrugged at her.
The midwife frowned. More words were thrown in her direction pointlessly. Addison felt the shock of things slowly beginning to wear off. Between the tea and the fire and the exhaustion of the last 24 hours, her body began to register that it was time to panic. Adrenaline surged through her. Addison felt like she'd been kicked in the chest. Nearly doubled over from the force of it, she tried to recover by taking a large gasping breath, but it felt like the air hit a wall. It couldn't reach her lungs. She had no idea what these women were saying. She had no idea where she was or—or when she was. And she'd just slept in a glorified hole in the ground — just hours ago — curled up next to some stranger who'd fed her questionable stew. And she didn't know what the fuck was happening, but if someone didn't start speaking English very soon, she was gonna lose her shit.
"I can't understand you," she bit back at the old woman through her rising panic. Her feet had gone numb, and her hands were cold. "I can't fucking understand what you're saying. Speak English, god damn it. Speak anything other than whatever the fuck it is your speaking. Parlez-vous francais?"
The women just watched her with the same displeased expressions they'd been giving her since she first appeared in their lives.
"Francais? S'il vous plais. Non? Hablan espanol? Quizás Español? Por favor, puta madre, hablen español. Goddamnit. What the fuck is happening to me?"
Addison stood up from the fire, clawing at her throat as she stumbled back from the two women. She turned as though to leave the hut when a strong hand landed on her shoulder — she let out a shriek — and turned to lash out at whoever the fuck was touching her but found herself compelled into silence at the face of the old woman. The midwife held fast to her arm. She didn't know what the woman was saying to her; it had a cadence to it that reminded Addison of a poem. It was rhythmic and repetitive, and it did something to her. It held her in her place. The strength of the woman's grip was not found in the hands that held Addison's arm, but in her mind. Power lurked behind her milk-white eyes. Addison felt her breathing slow down as quickly as it had risen out of control. The warmth returned to her hands. It was like she was seeing the world very vividly from somewhere further back in her mind than usual, like she was somewhere just outside of her body and looking down at herself.
She watched as Beatrix guided her back to the fire, watched Ailios fidget nervously where she remained seated, no doubt on the orders of the midwife. Addison sat down as she was told to do and looked deeply into the flames there. She knew she was in a sort of trance, felt the comfort of its embrace. A small, animal part of her brain welcomed the detachment. Reality had become rather...unthinkable. There was solace here, like this. She knew the old woman had done something to her, but as long as she could stay this way, distant and floating and numb to fear, Addison found she couldn't bring herself to care.
She was beginning to accept that her situation was not a dream she was going to wake up from any time soon. The world seemed to have expanded over the course of a day, and now she was truly terrified of anything that wasn't a part of her own person. In every breath of air, in every blade of grass, in every new human and every unknown sound, there was an ever-lurking danger that she could never have fathomed before. She hoped the midwife would keep her like this forever sitting in detachment, staring into the fire.
Addison watched distantly as the old woman took hold of her hand and pulled it into her lap. She laid it gently, palm facing up toward the sky. Beatrix looked up at her and pointed down at her hand. She pointed and said "Làimhe."
Addison just stared back at her. The woman frowned and said it again, pointing this time to her own hand and then back to Addison's.
A new word, Addison registered. Hand, Làimhe.
The midwife gestured at her sternly. "Làimhe," Addison supplied absently. "Hand."
At Addison's response, she nodded her approval. Then she pulled the hand closer to her. "Tha?" Her face lit up with the word. And then she pushed Addison's hand away back toward the girl. "Chan eil?" Addison tilted her head to the side; she didn't understand. The woman repeated the gesture.
"Tha or Chan eil..." Addison repeated the words slowly back at the woman, butchering them as she did.
Beatrix studied her, still unsure if she was just mimicking her or truly understanding. She released Addison altogether and turned to Ailios. She let her hand hover over the other woman's and asked the silent question. First, Ailios jerked her hand away in an exaggerated manner.
"Chan eil," she said sharply and shook her head no.
Then they reset the scene, and this time Ailios said warmly with a nod of her head "Tha."
And the midwife happily pulled her palm into her lap and studied the skin there. After their demonstration, both women turned back to Addison. The midwife hovered her hand over the Addison's once again, waiting in silent askance. Addison distantly registered what the women were trying to convey. Tha means yes. Chan eil, no. "Tha," she said softly.
The old woman smiled at her and pulled her palm into her lap. She ducked her head down close to Addison's hand, though Addison distantly registered that the woman's eyes must have been too blind to see anything there. She felt her run her fingers along the lines on her skin. Reading them, Addison's mind supplied. Like she read your tea leaves.
Whatever the woman saw there was equally as perplexing as the tea leaves Addison gathered, judging by the frown on her face. She said something to Ailios who murmured a curious response. Addison gathered bits and pieces of what was said though it meant very little to her — sounds jumbled together and her mind made them into words with no meaning. Just things to say, sounds to wrap her mouth around as she tried to gain some sense in a senseless place. Things like "beahlach" and "déanamh," "buidseach," and "bás," and "geambradh," and "gall óglaigh."
These things didn't make sense to her but still she turned them over and over in her mind, trying to commit them to memory on her tongue. When the two women finished their heavy conversation, Addison felt the weight of the midwife's grasp lessen on her mind. Their eyes were kind though their actions here had been confusing. As Addison came back to herself, she found that the panic had been staved off for now at least. She felt grounded in the present moment. Right now, at the very least, the world outside this hut mattered very little. It had no weight here in the presence of Ailios and Beatrix and whatever power the two of them held. The midwife reached out again, this time to hover her hand over Addison's forehead. "Tha?" She asked, pitching her voice higher in an exaggerated manner usually reserved for toddlers, before dropping her voice lower in the same fashion. "Chan eil?" At which point she pulled her hand away a bit.
Addison considered it for a second but felt that she didn't understand enough of what was being asked to be able to answer. She shrugged with a grimace. "What are you asking to do to me? What's wrong with my forehead? I don't understand."
The woman sighed. "Tha no chan eil?"
Addison pressed her mouth into a tight, thin line jerking her head no. "Chan eil."
The old woman studied her a bit longer before nodding in approval and moving away. She gestured for Ailios to help her stand up. Once the midwife had righted herself, she waved at Addison to follow her to a chest in the corner. Addison did as they bid her to do.
When the old lady presented her with a raggedy linen dress, Addison had little choice but to allow the women to strip her and shove it over her head. They tsked at the sight of her ankles, before ripping it back off Addison with little sense of decorum. They rifled and dug around a bit more, continuing to throw rags in various states of aging and cleanliness over their charge's head. Finally, they settled on a grey number with brown stitching up the arms from wrist to elbow. It was snug around the chest and hips which caused both women to gesture at her body exasperatedly, their chatter growing more aggravated as they took in the tug of the fabric across her hips and the unseemly amount of cleavage that peeked out the neckline.
The midwife won whatever argument the two had been having, Addison could tell because Ailios fell silent, and her jaw ticked before she snagged a rope from a pile in the corner and wrapped it loosely around Addison's waist to act as a belt; however, unnecessary it was.
At the very least, the fabric fell past her ankles. This day was the day Addison learned that ankles are far more scandalous than cleavage in the backwater towns of European antiquity. She fought them for a moment but ultimately lost to the strength of Beatrix's will, and had no choice but to watch as her modern, foreign clothes were pitched into the fire. Her feet were shoved into a pair of glorified slippers and the cloak was once again laid over her shoulders and fastened tight around her. Then she and Ailios were sent on their way with the stern warning and careful advice of the all-seeing midwife and her milk blind eyes.
Over the course of the days since she arrived there, Addison had been schooled in how truly useless she was. And the other women of the village had been made aware, she thought, more by her own demonstrations of her incompetence than because Ailios had been complaining.
There was a hierarchy among the women of the village, and Addison was receiving a bit of a crash course in the nuances of it. There were the elders, and the widows. It did not matter how young or old; if your husband died you became a part of this layer of the social strata. You were elevated by your loss, and in the case of Ailios, your sacrifice. Most husbands, Addison was slowly learning, did not die of old age in places like this. And the way Ailios's husband had gone must truly have been horrible, and maybe honorable, thing, Addison surmised, what with the way the village treated Ailios despite the fact that she was a full serf — born to the land, to die with the land. Ailios was no different from a sheep or a cow to the lord of the castle, and yet knights and tenants alike treated her with kindness and respect.
Then there were the married women, young, with hordes of children following in their wakes, husbands to answer to and care for. They were busy and tired and stern with each other's children. A mother to one was a mother to all in this place. Then there were the maidens; Addison fell into this category... sort of. Her unmarried status, combined with the respect the villagers held for Ailios, had bumped her up into this layer of the social strata. If not for those two precarious factors, Addison's status would have only been as a foreign girl, hovering somewhere just barely above a prostitute. Without Ailios, Addison would have been no less nefarious and untouchable than a changeling child.
After the maidens, were the betwixt — the girls who were between girlhood and womanhood, who had given up their voices temporarily so that they may receive the blessings of the gods as they enter this new phase of their lives. And then, lastly, were the prostitutes. But they were a couple rungs lower than the betwixt children, who were low on authority but highly cherished by everyone around.
Community chores were often divided along the lines of this hierarchy. Ailios had guided Addison over to a group of maidens and married women, brushed her hands over her shoulders in what Addison assumed was meant to be a calming gesture before leaving her there in the company of total strangers. She watched Ailios disappear into one of the nicer buildings in the village. Laughter and chattering filtered out of the doorway of the building and the center of the village. Then the singing started and the slap of wet fabric against a large table. Addison had seen glimpses of it once the other day. Wool waulking. It was a widow's chore these days. Though all the women in the village knew how to do it should they be called on to lend a hand.
None of the girls or women that Addison was with had bothered to speak to her or bring her into the fold as they waited around to journey toward the river. When the last of the married women and her youngest children arrived, the group set off. Addison wondered briefly if she could wander back to the hovel to hide from the world but learned rather quickly that Ailios was smart and well prepared. She'd tipped off a friend. The tanner's wife, who Addison had seen in passing on her first day here, linked an arm through hers and looked down at her with a smile. Addison was startled by the friendly act, and so too were some of the other maidens judging by the looks they received, but she was grateful for the hand, just the same, as she followed the group into the trees.
They carried with them baskets of heavy linens — Addison herself had hers perched precariously on her hip. They were to do the washing while the sun was high. Some of the betwixt girls had been instructed to bathe instead of help with the laundry. There would only be a few more days of bathing weather before the earth stayed frozen for the rest of the fall and into the winter. This would be the last bathing day until spring Addison had gathered from the way the mothers were muttering to each other and scolding the youngest children.
By the end of her pile of laundry, Addison's fingers were raw from scrubbing, her dress had soaked through and refused to dry, and her wrists and hands stung from the reprimanding slaps that had been bestowed on her from women and girls alike. All of whom had taken issue with the way she did the wash. Then she'd been stripped naked and shoved into the water to bathe with the rest of them. They'd giggled and laughed at her horror and her attempts at modesty before the tanner's wife hushed them all and waded in after Addison.
She stood, naked and unashamed between Addison and the others, offered her a smile and held out her hand. Addison hesitantly took it and allowed herself to be dragged further into the undertow. The woman pressed her lower into the water until her head became fully submerged, Addison came back up gasping and shivering, but the woman murmured calming words that Addison couldn't understand. She had the feeling they weren't so different from something that would be said to soothe a frantic child.
The older woman set about detangling Addison's hair with her fingers before turning her back around and pointing at herself. "Gelis," she said.
This was a game Addison was becoming familiar with. She pointed at the woman and confirmed she understood. "Gelis."
The woman nodded and pointed back at Addison. "Malvina."
Addison suppressed an eye roll at the name that had been forced on her and said the word she'd come to know as yes in that foreign tongue. The woman smiled back and gestured for her to follow her out of the river. Addison knew, of course, that no one else was even mildly embarrassed by their own nudity. She knew that by covering herself she was only making her body more conspicuous than if she were to walk out of the water like it was completely normal to do so in front of half a village of women, but she still used her hands and arms to hide her shame. Some of the younger girls giggled again, but quickly quieted down under the weight of Gelis's glare.
She was instructed to lie in the grass and allow the sun to dry her. She only had so much time to do so before the temperature dropped, and she caught her death. When she'd dripped clean one of the betwixt sat behind her wordlessly and plaited her hair into a neat braid before walking away to help another.
Once she'd dressed again, she was pulled in the direction of the trees by another woman and told to kneel by a set of bushes. She watched as the woman began to pick at the berries there, popping one in her mouth and gesturing for Addison to do the same. And then the woman held the apron of her skirt up to create a satchel and collected as many as she could. Addison followed her lead and they made their way back to the group. Between them the women had several types of wild leaves and two different types of berries. It wasn't filling per se, but Addison was satisfied to have had the snack before they trekked back to the village, nonetheless.
Later that night, laying on the mat she shared with Ailios. Burrowed under a pile of furs, and thankful to share the other woman's body heat, Addison couldn't keep her mind from wandering away. Not for the first time, she wondered if anyone had noticed her missing. It had been at least a week, hadn't it?
She tried to count back the days since she arrived, but it all blurred together in a surreal jumble of events. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She didn't bother to take her hands out from the warmth of the covers to wipe them away. Already she could feel parts of herself slipping, disappearing underneath the shock of what had happened to her. Her memory was jumbled up and nothing made sense to her here. A part of her hated Ailios. Hated the other women in the village. Hated the children who laughed and played, and the men who stared. She wanted to go home.
Another night passed, and Addison had not once closed her eyes. Ailios woke up and set about building the fire and preparing food for the family. Addison didn't so much as blink. Ailios woke the oldest of her children and told her to go out and ask Old Man Macphearson if they can borrow some goats milk to break their fast.
Addison still stared blankly at the thatched roof, her mind focused intently on the memory of a home that was safe and warm and full of all the creature comforts she could possibly want or need.
Ailios woke the other two children when her oldest daughter arrived back with a small ration of goat's milk to be passed around amongst them. Once her children were fed and occupied with their chores for the day, Ailios made her way over to Addison and pressed a hand to her forehead. Satisfied that fever had not in fact set in, she rested a warm hand on the younger woman's sallow cheek, running her thumb over the dark patches that had formed beneath her eyes.
Addison's eyes barely focused enough to acknowledge her. Ailios frowned before she whispered a quiet word to Addison. Sleep. Addison had heard her say it to her children every night since she arrived there. And now, this woman was saying it to her. Ailios ran her fingers lightly through Addison's hair until the younger woman's eyes finally drifted closed. Once she was certain the girl had fallen asleep, Ailios piled extra furs on top of her from the children's mats to ensure that her charge stayed nice and warm while she slept. Then she banked the fire, wiped her hands on her apron, and carried on with her day.
