Chapter III: Hope for Tomorrow
Days were growing warmer and the sun rose higher in the sky each day that passed by. That day particularly was warmer and moister than usual, and Anna had to frequently wipe her face with her apron. She stood up to take a breath and glanced over the trees surrounding the clearing. The sky was clear pale blue, the mist covered the great palace on the hills, the air was hot and still, as if forewarning a storm, and the world was quiet except for the clanks that came from the forge. That day especially the sounds were sharper and more intense, and she could guess why.
The day marked the seventh year of Jarred's escape from the palace. He still had hope, he still marked his tallies, he still checked the tree on the hills every dawn. But with each year that passed, his head bent more and more when he would find the tree empty. And this time perhaps he had lost all hope.
She picked up the basket full of herbs and emptied it on the parchment she had prepared on the ground beforehand. The chicory and nettle greens on one side and the hellebore, chamomile and jasmine flowers on the other side would stay under the sunlight for a couple of days to dry. She crouched and started laying them out evenly, humming a tune she had come up with a few days ago. She occasionally picked the jasmines and smelled them. No other flower Anna knew had such fragrance, always feeling fresh to the taste, always pleasant, making a simple tea smell like it had been made in the heavens. The heavenly gifts.
Even if the times were hard and hope was rare, the world still had its beauties. There was always joy, however small, in picking gifts of nature. And though the future bore no promise of change, life moved on, however difficult, and there was gratitude in that by itself. There would be no hope for change without moving on, and no hope to change without acknowledging how the present fared. Though many in Del were beyond surviving by nice philosophies of life, and Anna knew that. That was the only thing that could dishearten her, make her lose hope. Every day many would perish from hunger and disease; young, middle-aged and elderly people all the same. Every day many would die only in fighting over the scraps of food that the cart brought from the looming palace of Del.
Anna began collecting the dried garments. Such was how the present really fared. She was fully aware of this. But how could ones such as she help their people if they lost all hope? How could she bring herself to do the same work over and over again every day so she could make pastes and medicines that would save the lives of people double the size of those who died if she did not believe that change would come someday? She had to somehow believe in a bright future, even if it was too far away to be seen. She had to keep hope. And with their expecting child, there was every hope in the world for Anna; every hope to make the world a better place.
She went inside the cottage, to their bedroom, and started folding the clothes. Deep down, she knew the king would realize his true duties and open his eyes someday. Jarred had often talked about his friend, Endon, and from the stories he told, she perceived that he was no fool. He was understanding and caring enough to make habits of hundreds of years change if it meant the safety of his kingdom; that would lead him to undo centuries of negligence, naturally, but even he needed a push to come to the reality. The good news was that the push could be anything, even the smallest of events that could flare a fire in his mind. The bad news was that it had not happened yet.
But it would happen one day or another. And when it does, Jarred will be ready, and so will I in turn. We will do whatever we can to help rebuild Del—make all our lives better. We will live to see our children play in a world where there is no grief, no sorrow, no misery; where there is joy and hope and prosperity, and life flows in every corner of towns and cities. It will not stay like this, it will not.
She folded the piece of fabric she had found in one of the old boxes in the attic. She was no seamstress, but she had taught herself a bit during the years to sow and make simple garments. And she intended to turn that fabric into a nice little clothing for their little kid. The fabric was rough but would keep the little one warm in winter. A little human, tiny hands, tiny feet. She would smile at the thought, but her eyes would also brim with tears.
Ever since she found out she was expecting, she could not help but think of her mother. She put her hand on the little bump that was growing on her stomach. This, becoming a parent, was probably the first thing in her life that made her genuinely closer to the mother she never met. Her memories of her were only stories her father, though for a few limited years, and then her grandfather had told her. But now, it was as if she was walking in her mother's shoes. Seeing Jarred gave her hints of how her father must have been before she was born. She missed them, her mother, her father, her grandfather; she missed them all, whether she had any actual memories with them or not. So she wept for the days that never came, times they never shared, the family that did not get to stay together to see hers and Jarred's child.
But I will not leave you, little twinkle. Mama will not leave you. Papa will not leave you. We will not let anything bad befall you, mama promises that. And mama promises that you will see brighter days. We will all see brighter days, where rainbows bridge our skies again; just like our old stories. That is where you will live your beautiful life, my sweet love.
Anna sat there for a moment. Her heart felt lighter and her mind calmer. She stood up, wiped her face, put on the cap she always wore at the forge and went to the kitchen to pick up the tray of midday refreshment for Jarred.
The forge was steamier than usual, both because of the humid air and because Jarred was smelting ores; something he did not practice often, but had to do lately since the smelter of the only refinery forge in Del had suddenly vanished as if he never was. No one knew what had happened to him, so the fate of that forge was undecided and no one had taken over yet. The tools at Jarred's hands were not suited for smelting, but he could produce small pieces of wrought iron if it was needed.
Now he was hammering an iron bloom that was almost smoothed out and condensed, with no dark spongy spots on it anymore. She waited, watching him from behind until he stopped beating. He dropped the hammer and wiped his brows with the back of his hand.
"Jarred", Anna called, taking the glass of water to her husband. He turned to her, apparently not noticing her presence until then. "Come here, take a rest!"
He walked after her to the working table on the opposite side of the glowing furnace, took off his working gloves and emptied the glass of cool water in his dry throat like he had been on an endless jornada.
"Thank you", he said at last. "This was the sweetest water I have ever had. I thought I had gotten used to the heat, but the smelting takes double the effort of smithing!"
Anna smiled. "Because this is a smithing forgery; not a smelting one."
Jarred returned her smile, exhaustion lining his fine lineaments. "Hopefully I do not have to do this tomorrow. Young Zak brought the news that there is a volunteer for the smelter."
"That is good news!", she exclaimed as she slightly slid the tray to his side. "Here, freshly picked berries with the pan bread you love."
He took a bite of the bread and made a sound out of pleasure. "Whoever could resist!"
Anna chuckled. "Eat these while I get the clays ready".
"The clays?! Why would you—?"
"For the molds! Did we not always do that?"
Jarred put down the bread on the plate and grabbed her arm. "But Anna—."
"No Jarred, please. I am fine!" Her piercing green eyes were so resolute that Jarred dared not interrupt her further. "We talked about this, dear, and as long as I am able, I will stick to the works we used to do. Trust me, I will not overwork myself. It is better for me this way."
Jarred's face was a screen of uncertainty, but whatever was on his mind, he nodded in the end. He trusted her. She lovingly stroked his hand, before moving to the bags of clay soil and other raw materials they kept in the far right corner.
Anna would not leave all the hard work on his shoulder, even if her belly had grown significantly the last month. She would stay by his side in these times she still could, particularly in these days that Jarred seemed a bit low-spirited and always alert, as if he sensed bad tidings before they arrived.
She put the bowl of clay soil on the working table and put on her gloves. Jarred ate the last piece of the bread and came to her. His hand brushed her waist as he put a loving kiss on her cheek and went on to the furnace. Anna smiled and glanced at him for a moment before she dug her hands into the mixture of soil and water and started making the clays. She would shape them later and bake them at the end of the day. Tomorrow, they would be ready as molds. The blooms would all be hammered by then, perfect for casting.
Well, tomorrow would be a busy day. She mentally told the baby inside her. Better busy and earn our keep than wandering with nothing to do; do you not agree, little twinkle?