3 April 1621

Today we talked to Mariek and Neolla (Simonn's talking to Hannah on his own). Mariek was all-in in a second, and Neolla not long after. They're going to choose names, too. Hannah will as well, but she's probably not going to come with us-she wants to stay close to her daughter. I can understand that. She'll stay here and sort of be a home base. I can tell Simonn will miss her. Of course he will; I'd miss Sigmun if I had to be apart from him.

6 April 1621

I found out their names. Mariek is Marquise, Neolla is Neophyte, and Hannah is Handmaid. I think I understand each of them, too. Mariek could easily have a rank, Neolla's still fairly new at being a lawyer, and Hannah tends to help rather than directly lead. Although Neolla and Mariek both still have some business to finish here, so they won't leave with us.

Now if only I had a name. I've been Dianna my whole life; I'm somewhat attached to it. I even like my last name these days, which I never used to do. (Vantas is not tied to my mother, like Sailor, or to my childhood, like Leijon.) I have no idea what characteristic could define me outside my name, which in this village is all anyone needs to know to know who I am. (Or, at least, who they think I am.)

I'll come up with something. Everyone else has.

8 April 1621

I bought a new empty book today. I know if he wants to talk I'll be writing, because not everyone in the world speaks English and I think writing things is the best way to remember them. It would be amazing to translate them and send them out to other countries who have the same problems we do-unfair governments levying unfair taxes on people for the sake of their own comfort, people not treating each other as people, violence.

I still can't think of a name. What am I-or, rather, what will I be in a revolution? A follower, I suppose, but then we're all followers. A writer, I suppose. Scribe? No, that's terrible. What am I?

10 April 1621

We started packing our bags today. I felt this terrible clenching in my stomach because I don't want to leave sometimes, and I know leaving is all but dooming people I love. I'm leaving my home and I'm so scared.

I won't pack my wedding dress. I'll pack a nice dress but I'll leave my wedding dress at home. I don't think anybody will steal it and I don't think it's valuable to anybody but me. I'll fold it away for when we come back.

I feel like leaving my wedding dress behind means something, but I don't know what.

12 April 1621

We were packing today when Sigmun noticed my wedding dress folded away.

"You're not bringing it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to ruin it."

"We're not going to be digging ditches."

"I know. But I don't want it to get torn walking or something of the sort. It's my favorite dress."

"What's the point of having something nice you'll never wear?"

"I'll wear it once we're back. Once we win."

He looked at me, sort of oddly, but with a sort of affection. "You look beautiful in that dress."

"Thank you."

"Do you remember our wedding day?"

"Of course I do."

"It rained in the evening, you remember?"

I nodded. "Mariek told me that was good luck. She said it meant fertility."

Sigmun looked down. "Do you believe in luck?"

"Luck favors the prepared."

He nodded, thoughtful. "We'll adopt children, once we win."

"Of course," I said. "Beautiful, wonderful children."

He sighed and I leaned back so my head was resting on the very top of his chest, and he stood on tiptoe to tuck my head under his chin. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I stood there for a while, feeling close to him. Sometimes I'm afraid Simonn is right, but sometimes I have all the hope in the world that Sigmun is.

14 April 1621

I quit my job today. It didn't go badly at all.

"Agnes. I need to speak with you."

She looked up from her sewing and said, "What?" She's not rude but she's a woman of few words.

"I'm quitting."

"Pardon?"

"I'm leaving with my family to go traveling. So I'm quitting. We leave the sixteenth."

"Well, goodbye."

"I'll see you again someday, I'm sure."

She smiled a little. "I hope so."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

I'll see my coworkers again someday, I'm sure. In better circumstances, I'd hope.

15 April 1621

I talked with Dolora today over tea. I think she's more scared than she'd care to admit. Dolora's never really admitted she's scared before, but I think she is.

"Why are you going?" I asked her after we had tea.

"To make this a world where my sons and my daughter can be whatever they want to be."

"What daughter?"

"You, Dianna dear," she said, with the oddest tone of voice.

I looked down at my glass of tea. I forget sometimes she counts me as her daughter.

"I would very much to provide the opportunities for you, and for Sigmun and Simonn, that some of the richest bluebloods have."

"Like Patrik."

She nodded. "What are you going to tell him?"

"I have no idea," I admitted. "He's going to ask. And he definitely won't agree with us. I suppose I'll give it a shot?" I shrugged and took a sip of tea.

"I wish you the best."

"Thanks," I said. "You are coming with us?"

"Of course," she said. "I'll do what I can to spread medical knowledge I have to the rest of the country-especially other midwives." She sighed. "Some of us may love men, but men can't understand." She stirred her tea. "Much the same way you couldn't understand what it's like to have darker skin." Dolora's family is from the New World, she said. She doesn't talk about when her family crossed the ocean (can you imagine?) but I know it was her grandparents who crossed. So she has darker skin. "And I couldn't imagine what it's like to be Rose." Once when Rose visited she told us her mother has dark skin and her father light, but they got married anyways.

"Sometimes I wish we could make them understand," I said, because I do. I love Sigmun and Simonn and they face their own challenges but they don't really understand what it means that I can't have children, or how terrible it feels when men stare at you like they'd eat you up if given the chance.

Dolora nodded and we talked a bit more about lighter things, and I really felt how us women have to support each other, because heaven knows no one else will.

16 April 1621

We left today. We packed up the tents and the cookware and all our things, and I took a new book I bought for writing what he talks to people about in as well as my pen and ink. I took all my hair ribbons, too, the green one around my wrist so I could tie up my hair when I needed to. Most of them were presents at some point or another but I felt alright about bringing them because what is a hair ribbon for but tying back your hair?

I didn't really know what to tell Patrik so I left him a letter. He'll find it. I left him a rough copy of the map and when we'll be where, so if he wants to perhaps he could write. I hope he does.

We have the map Sigmun planned this all out on, so we know where we're going. I think I'm just scared of what will happen there.

18 April 1621

We arrived at the first town today. We're travelers, so we were noticed right away and I felt terribly self-conscious. I noticed the children huddled alone on corners or in alleys the way I notice them at home and it pulled terribly at my heartstrings. I hope we can help them.

Sigmun knocked on the door of the church and once the priest opened it said, "Hello. We're travelers from a nearby village and we were wondering if we could spend the night in your church."

"I'm very sorry, my friends, but we don't even have pews. You might be better off camping in the woods if you have tents, so you could make a fire." You can tell a lot about a preacher by what he calls the laypeople, and "friends" definitely endeared me to this fellow.

"Thank you for your kindness," Sigmun said. "I was hoping to address your town on Sunday, after services. Would that be alright?"

He nodded.

Dolora took some money out of her pouch and handed it to the priest. "Help your people," she said. "They need you."

He looked at her oddly, but nodded, and we left to pitch tents. We have only two tents but we could all fit in one, and of course Sigmun and I can share a tent and a bedroll.

Sigmun went into the village for food while I hunted and came back with five people I'd never met before. "Love, this is Mary," (a little girl with big brown eyes) "Willian," (a boy with a mop of blond hair) "Magdelena," (a girl with dark skin but some sort of sunburn on her cheek) "Daniel," (a tall fellow with tired eyes) "And Helen," (a woman with bright blue eyes). "Everyone, this is my wife."

"What do we call you?" Helen asked.

"Um…call me Dee," I said. It was the only thing I could think of.

Dolora started dinner and we all gathered around the fire, the little ones looking afraid. I sat next to the littlest one, Mary, and said, "Hello there, little one."

She squeaked.

"Don't worry, little one. I don't bite. Can you tell me how old you are?"

"Seven," she said.

"Where are your parents?"

"They died."

"I'm so sorry, little one."

She nodded, a couple tears dripping down her cheeks. "Mr. and Mrs. Cooper say I can stay with them long as I do all the chores and cooking and sewing. But Mr. Cooper's scary."

My heart clenched and I wanted to raise her far away from anybody who would ever hurt her. "Trust your gut, little one. Don't go with them."

"How do you know?"

"I'm a mother. We know everything." It's something Dolora used to say with the same teasing tone when I was little.

"Really?"

I nodded. "What's your favorite game to play?"

She talked to me some and then when it was sunset we offered the children the tent to sleep in. They accepted and went to bed, Dolora supervising. I stayed up with Helen and Daniel and Simonn and Sigmun, while Dolora went to our tent to do the mending. (Or, I suspect, to sleep.)

"Where are you lot from?" Daniel asked.

"About a day's walk from the city," I said.

He examined us critically. "And what are you doing here?"

I looked at Sigmun and he said, "We're here to help. We don't think it's right that our government makes laws we have to follow without our input, especially since they don't follow the laws themselves."

"How does that help us?" Daniel asked.

"If we can change the government we can distribute aid to people who need it," Sigmun said. "We can make laws about being paid fairly, and we can set up a system so those who need money will be helped. And we includes you." He had that look on his face, his eyes shining and his voice genuine. "In the more immediate, my mother is a doctor, and my wife hunts, and our best friend is a farmhand, so we can help with whatever you need."

For a moment I thought perhaps I could be something like Hunter, but that's not really who I am, I don't think. I hunt so my family can eat. I'd never choose Seamstress either even though that was my job, because it's just something I did instead of something I am.

At any rate, we chatted with them until it was late and we were all tired. I like Helen and Daniel. I hope we can help them.

21 April 1621

I talked with Helen more today, and we got around to the topic of family.

"My mother, she was a wonderful woman. But she caught winter fever and passed right after I married."

"I'm so sorry," I said.

She shrugged. "It's been years."

"It doesn't always stop hurting, though. I still miss my child."

"You child?"

"His name was Luke. He died when he was fourteen months old."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's alright. I'm used to missing him."

There was a brief silence between us before she said, "I have to ask. Psiioniic, what's his relation to you?"

"One of my two dearest friends."

"No blood relation?"

"No, he's just very dear to us."

"I wouldn't tell anybody."

"Tell anybody what?"

"If there's…more between you and him."

"There isn't. He's engaged, and I'm married."

She looked at me skeptically.

"He means the world to me. But I'm not having an affair. My husband's a wonderful man." I'm sure I had that soft look on my face-Simonn's pointed it out to me. He gets the same look when he talks about Hannah, and of course Damara.

"Alright," she said.

"What about you?" I asked.

"There's no one," she said. "It's not important." I could tell she didn't want to talk about it, so I didn't press.

"What about friends?"

"There's a few. Elizabeth, our seamstress. Beatrix, the cooper's wife. And Maude-a spinster like me."

"They sound like wonderful people."

"Indeed," she said, and we talked about her village until it was late.

25 April 1621

Today after services he invited everyone to dine with us in the woods at sundown so I've been hunting all day to get enough food. I know why; it's because when you feed people they tend to listen to you. Dolora made stew and Simonn helped while I took a nap, exhausted from hunting. Sigmun was out chatting with whoever showed up, but he came in to check on me when I first got back, and he kissed me and said, "I'll wake you for dinner, love."

He did wake me for dinner and I ate sitting next to Helen. It was like in the village, the children running around and playing while the adults sat together and ate. People luckily brought their own bowls-we didn't have enough for everybody-but we had extras.

After the meal, my love got everyone's attention just by speaking up loud enough and then standing so everyone could see him. Dolora quieted the children and led them away a little to play. Simonn was sitting right near Sigmun and I'm sure no one else could tell but he had his own knife behind his back. I use my breadknife when I'm nervous but Simonn has a knife, too. Sigmun doesn't.

Anyways, he started by talking about all the unfair things that happen because the government doesn't listen to us. Mostly about how poor people are and how no one thinks to help out those who are struggling. He talked about that Bible quote-"Learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow". I think it's from Isaiah. And people listened! I think it's mostly because he was talking about things we good do that would help them, but they were happy to listen.

I think he'll introduce the idea of equality for women and illegitimates and those with dark skin and all that a bit later. He invited everyone again on the twenty-ninth. I think in the meantime we'll talk with individuals and slowly introduce the idea.

I'm exhausted from writing right now. Simonn's washing his face and Sigmun's shaving (most unfortunately), and Dolora's mending. Everyone staying with us is asleep. It's quiet, and peaceful, and I think tonight I will sleep well in my husband's arms.

26 April 1621

I was translating earlier, English to French, and Helen sat next to me and said, "What are you doing?"

"Je traduis ses mots. Français."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry." I shook my head. "I'm translating his words into French."

"You work hard for him."

"It's for our cause."

She looked at me inquisitively.

"When we started, it was his idea but we all chose to come."

"Oh."

There was a pause, and she fiddled with something she was holding.

"You and him are married."

"Indeed."

"How long?"

"Five years this June."

"So where are you children?"

I rolled my pen between my fingers, a habit I've found comes out when I'm nervous or tense. "I can't have them. I had a miscarriage, then my baby Luke, and then two more miscarriages."

"Oh." She looked down, then back up. "He must be a remarkable man."

"I certainly think so."

"He's staying with you."

"And I'm grateful for every minute he does." I saw the way she looked at the fire and said, "Yours didn't?"

"No. He left me with nothing. Took every penny in our home and left me for a younger, prettier woman. They have three children."

"I'm so sorry," I said.

"It's alright," she said. "Not having children, it's hard."

I nodded.

"How'd you get him to stay with you?"

"Before we were married, I told him I was worried about it. And he told me that I could have twelve children or no children and he'd still love me. So I guess I didn't do anything-we just love each other." I put down my pen and grabbed my elbows with my palms, feeling colder. I am still afraid that he'll leave me for someone who can have children, even though he's affectionate and kind and soft as he ever was. "Or so I pray."

"Love?" Sigmun called from the tent.

"Yes?"

"Are you coming to bed?" He poked his head through the tent flaps. "Don't stay up to late, dearest. You can do your translating by the light of day."

"Be there in a few," I said back, and he went back to the tent. I could picture him lying on our bedroll with that little frown on his face, and I wondered if his arms felt empty the way mine do when I sleep alone.

"Men don't understand," she said.

"No," I said. "I don't think they ever will."

And so I went back to our tent and wrote here and I'm about to curl up with my love and sleep, even though he's asleep already.

I love him. I wish he could understand.

27 April 1621

Last night Sigmun and Simonn and I sat around the fire together.

"Put own your pen, love," Sigmun said gently. "It's alright, the work will get done. Take a rest."

I reluctantly put down my pen and paper and said, "Alright, fine."

"You'll run yourself to the ground if you don't take a break," Sigmun said.

"I know, love," I said. "I'm fine. Really." Since he hadn't shaved in a couple days he had that cute scruffy beard, and I noticed how handsome he looked.

"If you say so," he said.

There was a pause.

"I think it's going quite well," Sigmun said. "They're definitely on our side. I don't know if they're ready to march to the city, but they're with us. And I think we've helped them."

"Can we talk about something else?" Simonn asked. "I mean, I'm for our cause, but…" He paused and looked down. "I miss just spending time with you."

I nodded. "Do you remember, when we were children, and we spent all day reading?"

Simonn smiled and said, "Remember daring each other to spend the night in the woods?"

"That rabbit we thought was a coyote?"

"The time the Jacobson's cat scared us?"

"Or the ghost wind!"

We all laughed and I can't remember feeling so warm since I was a child. I do miss spending time with my best friends. I love them so much.

"I brought a book," Sigmun said. "The one about the New World. It's really interesting-do you want to read it?"

"Of course," I said.

We talked about lighter things for a while until I picked up my pen again. Simonn said, "Why do you work so late, Deedee? You'll drive yourself mad."

"I have to finish," I said. "It's my job."

"It's not your job to drive yourself mad," Sigmun said. "We're trying to start a revolution-make a change. You don't need to write constantly."

"I need to do something useful," I said.

Simonn gave me a funny look, like he used to when I'd dither about Sigmun while he was in love with Hannah-before he told her. "Why?"

"I'm part of this. I shouldn't take up space without contributing."

Simonn shifted uncomfortably.

"Both of you, what's wrong?" Sigmun asked. "We're here to make things better for people. Just talking to people, we're making a difference. You don't need to earn the right to be here." His face was soft and worried, maybe a little hurt.

I wanted to say so many things, about how I feel useless and not good enough and I need to feel useful and how I can't stand to know how many people are suffering and how I love them but I'm so afraid they don't love me because I don't deserve it and so I feel the need to work and how I'm much too scared to just ask them to tell me they love me and how I just want to be important but I know I'm not.

Simonn said, "We're not important like you."

"No," Sigmun said. "You are the world to me. You're feeding people, and talking with them, and helping children-you're as important as I am. More so." He put one arm around each of us and held us both close. "I worry a lot that I'm not enough for you."

"You're wonderful," I said. "And you will always be enough. More than."

"Yeah," Simonn said. "You're the best, and we love you."

"I love you too," Sigmun said.

"I love you too," I said, and I went to bed feeling light and warm.

29 April 1621

My love spoke again today, this time slipping in bits about treating people who aren't men with light skin and married parents the same. I could tell people weren't as happy this time, but some of the women were looking at him like they were just realizing something for the first time in their lives, and I couldn't have been happier. Some of the men-I imagine they were illegitimate-had the same look, and of course those with dark skin. Some didn't look so happy, even those who we wanted to help, but plenty of people looked thrilled.

One fellow shouted out some questions to my love, and he answered them quite well.

"Sir, if I may ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Women are to be punished for the original sin. Why should they be treated equal? Does not Genesis tell us that 'your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you'?"

"Are we not forgiven for all sins through Jesus, if that is indeed your faith? And remember: 'There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus'." Galatians, that one is.

"Then why do women still suffer in childbirth?"

"Midwives ease the pain," he said, nodding at Dolora. "Forgiveness means the pain is eased, if not removed completely. I'd say us men should be treating the women around us kindly for what they go through to bring us into the world." He looked at me and smiled a little. Some of the women looked appreciative, and I understand why. We go through quite a lot. "Sir, I'd love to speak with you later, and perhaps you'd like to match wits with my wife and my mother." He must've seen me glare at the man when he first asked his question.

"Indeed," the man said, and my love continued talking.

After he finished speaking, the man made his way to my love and so did I.

"Interesting to meet you, sir," I said.

"Likewise," he said. I could tell he was going to start spouting Bible quotes so I jumped in.

"Do you read in Latin or English?"

He looked taken aback. "English, I suppose."

I nodded. The translations are actually a little different.

"You're a good bit different from other women."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're much more intelligent."

"Not at all. I may be more educated, thanks to my mother-in-law, but no more intelligent."

"Most women I know can't read."

"Can most men?"

"I suppose not…"

"I imagine it's because I speak my mind. But that's just a product of my upbringing. I'm just like every other woman here."

Dolora appeared right next to me, practically silent like she is. "Hello, my dears. And you, sir."

"Hello, Dolorosa," I said. She touched my shoulder and then my love's, and then addressed the man.

"I understand you don't think women and men to be equals?"

"There are some women who might be equals."

"We're not special," I said. I don't think I'm anything special, but it's more than that-the only thing about me that's different from any other woman I've met is that I got an education. "My mother-in-law and I."

"You certainly are!"

"Why?" Dolora asked.

"You read and write. You're much more intelligent."

The debate continued in this vein for quite some time but I ran out of patience and left to speak with some of the other women, because I've found they're the most worried.

There was one woman called Maude-I think the same Maude Helen mentioned-who I really liked.

"Hello, I'm Maude."

"Hello. I'm-" I was about to say Dianna but I stopped myself. "I kind of have to keep my real name secret."

"Why on Earth?"

"To keep our home village safe," I explained. "We have our other names. But I can't think of one. Just call me Dee."

"Alright, Dee. I wanted to ask you about…what he was talking about."

"Go ahead."

"Do you really believe we're equal? All of us?"

"I do. Ever since I was little they've been my equals." I gestured to my husband and Simonn.

"But they hold all the power, in politics and in the church."

"Only because they've convinced us we can't. There's no reason a woman couldn't be a priest, or a ruler. Our heir to the throne is a woman."

"Really?"

"Yes. In a very roundabout way, she's an odd sort of acquaintance of mine."

"Really."

I nodded. "Every man you meet is as equal as every woman."

She had the oddest look on her face. "They tell us it's because Jesus was a man."

"A man who respected women."

"Oh?"

"Mary Magdalene? And Martha and Mary? Mary his mother?"

"An awful lot of Marys."

I smiled. "Indeed. Jesus may have been a man, but there are many women in the Bible who were very important. I'm quite fond of Esther and Ruth, and Deborah. Men tend to gloss over those parts."

"They do."

"It's hard to learn to value yourself, I know. But it's worth it."

"What about my husband?"

"Is he here?"

"Yes. He was talking to Signless."

I smiled a little, because I can't help it when someone calls him that, and said, "Well, he could convince anyone of anything. Just keep reminding your husband you're his equal-he'll get it."

"Wait-is he yours? Signless?"

I nodded.

"You're very lucky," she said.

"I certainly think so. What about yours?"

"He's alright. Not terrible. But he has all these ideas about wifely duty."

I was troubled for a second before she continued, because more men are violent than I'd like to believe.

"It's always, 'Get a hot dinner on the table, do all the mending, do all the laundry, watch the children…' You know the type."

"I do."

"I don't mind doing the chores-well, I do, but no more than any fellow minds work-but it would be nice to get some appreciation. Some help with the children. I respect his work. It'd be nice to get some respect in return."

I nodded. "You can teach him. And you can teach your children."

"Do you mind if I ask-is he really illegitimate?"

"Yes. Dolorosa took him in when his birth mother abandoned him."

"He's clever for it."

"He's clever for anybody. Being illegitimate has nothing to do with it."

She shrugged.

We talked a little about her home and about her village, and I talked with some other women about how to teach the men in their lives respect. And how to treat people with dark skin and illegitimates equally. People are always so surprised I married an illegitimate man of my own volition.

It was a good day, but we leave tomorrow. We'll be in the next town my May second, the next Sunday.

I think I'll miss this town. It's nice here, and I like the people. I'll miss here.

30 April 1621

I sat with the children from the village again today before we left. I find it more comfortable to talk to children sometimes; they're not nearly as judgemental or cruel as adults, and all you have to do is listen to their wild stories. Anyways, a fool could tell they hadn't really had anyone to talk to in a while.

The three of them-Mary, William, and Magdelena-are orphans, but some of the children who arrived later have parents who are either cruel or neglectful. I worry about them. I know we can't adopt every child in the world, but looking at all those who don't have safe families to go home to, I want to.

Either way, all of the children talked more, and seemed a bit happier. Mary talked about how well she can sew, and maybe she'll do that for a job, and William about climbing trees, and then a girl Theresa talked about how much she likes to climb trees, and so on. The children mostly knew each other-it's a town small as ours-but I think being somewhere safer, where they're well-fed, helped. I know children need adults to be proud of them, and to listen to them, so I did my best. Sigmun did, too, and Simonn stayed for a few minutes. But he left, and I think it's because he misses his daughter.

I want to believe someday we'll go home and be a family again, and I want to believe that we'll adopt children and just live out our lives once this is over. I'm just not sure sometimes that it's possible anymore.