1 March 1622

I definitely saw more guards today, and it felt like they were watch us. I could feel their eyes on me as I walked through the market for food, and I don't think I've ever felt so afraid on our travels. Is the king starting to take notice, or is this what Simonn said-the beginning of the end?

I'll ask him tonight.

2 March 1622

Of course Simonn was up last night, as he always is, and so I asked him about the guards.

"It's Candas."

"She's just the heiress."

"So what? She's the one telling the king about us. She's the one setting the guards on us. I told you, we can't trust her!"

"Simonn, would it kill you to not be a cynical stick-in-the-mud for five minutes?"

"You know I'm right."

"I know you think you're right. And I know that you're terrified of your dreams. I think you might be making a connection where there isn't one. Look, I'm not about to tell Candas all our secrets. I'm actively trying to stop Sigmun from doing just that. But I don't think she's out to get us."

"I hear her laugh in my dreams."

"How do you know it's her? What about her mother or someone?"

"I-I don't know. I just know it. You know how you just know things in dreams-it's like that."

"Simonn. I trust your dreams, and you know that. And I don't trust Candas like Sigmun does. But I think it wouldn't kill you to have a little trust."

"Except that it might kill him."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "Please don't say that."

"Why not? It's going to happen, and we both know it. We're all going to be alone sooner than we want to."

"Stop it!" I said, shriller this time.

"We need to handle this!" he said. "If you can't handle all that, then why are you here?"

I've never felt angrier with Simonn before then. "I'm here to help people. If you know we're a bunch of fools who are doomed to die, then why are you here?"

"Because I want to help people too!"

"Then act like it! It's not about us right now. I don't want to lose him. I know it's unavoidable but I'm not going to worry about that while he's here with us. 'I shall tell my soul, soul, eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die'. Do you want me to quote more Bible at you?"

"No thanks."

"Then would it kill you to be a little happy once in a while?"

"You said yourself I might have melancholy."

"So do I, and I manage to avoid being an insufferable pessimist."

I could see he was hurt and I felt…something, somehow, that was like guilt but worse.

"I'm sorry, Simonn," I said. "I didn't mean that."

He was frowning and he was leaning back and forth, one foot to the other. "I know you didn't," he finally said. "Do you really think I'm insufferable?"

"No," I said. "I think you're stressed and worked up and scared."

He glared at me.

"I am too! I just…Simonn, I'm worried about you, alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Clearly you're not. We've known each other since we were children-I know that you're not doing fine."

He sighed, but it was almost a laugh. "How many times have we had this exact conversation, but from opposite sides?"

I laughed with him. "I don't know. Too many."

"Then you know what I'll say."

"And you know what I'll say. And you know that I'm right."

"So what if I do? Isn't it required that I resist your help for several years before listening to reason?"

"You're mean."

"Sorry."

"We both know I'm right. So write home once in a while, okay? Get some rest. Have some of my tea. And don't worry right now about Candas. I'll keep our secrets out of her hands."

Another sigh, and his shoulders slumped a little. "I'm worried about you, too, you know."

"I know."

"I can't help it. I couldn't bear to lose any of you."

"Simonn…"

"I know it's inevitable. And I know that in my dreams, I'm not…I'm not sane. I'm in my own head in those dreams, and it's…it's not good. It's worse than the screaming or the cold hands, because I know I can't get away from it."

"It's tremendously difficult to get away from your own head," I said. "I think we all have some experience with that."

He nodded and leaned a little towards me, and I could tell he wanted a hug, even though he didn't say it. "Hug?" I asked nonetheless, and he nodded.

I think he's going to be okay. If this ends, none of us will be okay ever again, but for right now I think we're going to be fine.

3 March 1622

We leave town tomorrow. I'm going to miss this place, of course, but I've gotten so used to this constant moving that I'm not sure I'll be as sad as I have been before.

5 March 1622

I can feel Sigmun drifting off every time I talk to him these days, hearing someone else saying things to him no one else can hear. I can't explain how it feels, but I think what it comes down to is that I'm afraid to lose him and I don't want to lose him to the voices in his head before I lose him to whatever haunts Simonn's dreams.

7 March 1622

He did one of his speeches yesterday and it was exactly as riveting as usual, except I've heard so many that I focused on other things-like whether or not he could hear those voices. He didn't seem to be hearing any, though. He seemed to be really just talking.

Maybe he's getting better? I don't think I really believe that, but I'd like to.

9 March 1622

More reading and writing lessons today. I think I have a pretty solid curriculum going right now, because I want to teach as much as possible while confusing as few people as possible (ideally, none). I think I'm doing alright. I never went to school to be a teacher, but I've read books on the subject and I think Dolora was going to be a teacher before she was our town's real doctor.

I hope I'm doing right by everyone I teach. I'm always a little scared that I'm making things worse.

10 March 1622

I asked him about hearing his voices when he speaks.

"I…I can hear them, but what I'm saying is just so much more important than anything they're saying in those moments. I never stop hearing them."

"Never? How do you sleep?"

"Poorly."

"Wake me up if you need to, love."

"I don't want to bother you."

"Why do we keep reversing old conversations?" I said, touching his cheek gently. "Don't I wake you up when I have nightmares?"

"I-I suppose so."

"Please, my love. Wake me up if you can't sleep. I'll be there for you, like you were there for me. I still wake you up if I have nightmares."

"I know…"

"And if I'm not with you, I'm sitting up with Simonn, so just come find me, alright? I love you. I'm here for you."

He sighed. "Alright. I love you."

"I love you too."

Between the two of us, I doubt we'll be getting much sleep for a while. My nightmares are better, but I know they'll never really go away. They're almost a part of me now. I'm sure that sounds morbid and terrible, but I think having melancholy is just part of my life now. I'm handling it.

12 March 1622

He woke me up last night.

"Dianna? Love?"

"Hm? What's going on?"

"I can hear them. They're…screaming. Angry. They say…they say you want to leave me."

"Oh, my love…I would never. I love you with all my heart and I don't want to leave you."

"I know," he says. "But that's what they tell me. They tell me terrible things…they tell me it's my fault about Luke…that we're being chased…that I'm dead and you're only pretending that I'm still here…I know that sounds mad."

"I know all about feeling mad, love. It's alright."

"I…I'm afraid, because they're so convincing. What if someday…I believe them?"

"Even if you do, my love, I'll always be here for you. I promise I'll be right here."

"But how do I know if you're real?"

"Because…you've known me your whole life. And I say I am."

He sighed and leaned his head on my shoulder. "You know I'll always love you."

"I do know. And I'll always love you."

"Even if someday I do believe the voices someday and I say I don't…I will. I promise."

I couldn't help but shiver because all I could think about was Simonn's dream and how close he feels it is, and I how I'm scared we won't live long enough to find out if his voices are that convincing or not.

"Love?"

"I'm alright," I said. "But I don't think anything could convince you to say you don't love me."

"I hope not."

"If my mother couldn't stop me getting out to see you, nothing can convince you to say you don't love me."

"Alright…"

"Love, do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then I promise you, we're always going to be here for each other. I know you'll always love me, and I will always love you. I don't care what the hell happens. Even if we don't want to be married anymore, you'll always be my best friend."

He smiled weakly and kissed my cheek. "And you'll always be mine. Although…for now, I am very happy to stay married to you."

"And I to you."

He sighed again, sounding tired. When I had nightmares every night, I remember how my love would just soothe me, tell me sweet things and promise we were safe. I think he might need much the same things right now.

13 March 1622

Between Sigmun and Simonn and my nightmares, I haven't been sleeping well lately. Of course, Dolora picked up on that, like she does, and of course she had me sit down and rest today instead of teaching.

"Dolora, I'm fine."

"My dear, I have raised you since you were seven. You know I know you."

"Even if I was tired-and I'm fine-I still need to teach."

"I'll teach today. Dear, we are all together here. We're here to support each other. And you need to rest. I'm sure our other two will be back here soon to comfort you the way you comfort them."

"What?"

"My goodness, dear, I can hear you when you wake up and walk around."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's my job to worry about you."

"I'm an adult, you know. And I can worry about you, too."

"My dear, I'm doing just fine."

"You must be tired, too."

"I am, sometimes. But I find that growing up under the weight of my parents' expectations has made me quite resilient to those of others."

"Easier said than done."

"Of course it is, dear. And my circumstances were different from yours. And I am tired as often as anyone else. But you have been up at all hours of the day and night, and it's taking its toll. You need some sleep."

"I know. Thanks, Dolora."

"Of course, dear. Now get some sleep and I'll teach today."

"Do you need me to do any housework? Cooking or anything?"

"No. Sleep and read and rest up. I'm a doctor, Dianna dear."

I smiled at her, and she left, and I slept for a long time and read. I suppose she's right; running myself into the ground won't help anybody. I can't teach if I can't keep my eyes open.

15 March 1622

I taught yesterday and today, and after resting I feel much better. My love made his speech the thirteenth, but Dolora insisted she write it and I could work on my translations later. I normally do that part of my job on travel days, so I figure I'll do it between the next two towns. I'll do French this time; I like French. It's a nice language to speak.

16 March 1622

I finally asked Dolora today.

"Dolora…"

"Yes, dear?"

"Have you and Simonn been talking lately?"

"Some. Why?"

"I…has he told you anything…odd?"

"I know he's been having nightmares. I know he thinks that something bad is going to happen-but he doesn't say what. Why do you ask?"

"He's just been acting odd lately."

"He has. So have we all."

"Odder than anyone else."

"That's true. Whatever is going to happen, I think he thinks it will happen to us." She paused, and looked down at her tea. "He must think we're going to fail."

"I…maybe he does."

"I'm sure he must. He's never acted quite like this before-though before Luke was born…"

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't think so," she said. "I have faith in you, and in them. And in myself."

"So you think we're going to succeed? We're going to win?"

"My dear, I am petrified that we won't, but I believe, in my heart of hearts, that we can." She tilted her head slightly and looked at me, all concerned like she does, and added, "Dianna dear, do you?"

"Sometimes," I say. "Sometimes…Sometimes I'm just scared."

"My dear…" she said, and she reached out to hug me. I hugged her back, and she said softly, "I will always love you-and we're going to be okay, as long as we have each other. No matter what happens, we will always have each other."

I couldn't bear to tell her that if Simonn is right, we're not going to have each other. We're going to suffer alone. We're going to be alone.

17 March 1622

We leave tomorrow. But this time is different. Dolora told us that we're going to stop this time, in the middle of the woods somewhere, and rest for a few days. We all jumped up to object, Sigmun most of all, but Dolora said, like she does-"I'm a doctor, my dears."

So we'll rest, just the four of us, in the woods for a few days. We'll set up a proper camp, with both our tents, and we'll rest.

That's new.

18 March 1622

We just set up camp, except now Sigmun and I have a tent, Dolora has a tent, and Simonn said he wants to sleep outside under the stars. Maybe it's got to do with his nightmares. I went hunting, but only enough so that we could eat, and we had a hearty stew like Dolora makes, and it felt almost like being home again. Sigmun was laughing, and Simonn was joking, and Dolora was smiling, and I felt happy and safe again.

It felt good to just be with my family. I know we won't get time like this often, maybe even ever again.

20 March 1622

As would be expected, Sigmun and I have been spending a lot of time alone together at night. It's…it's very nice, being with him. His hair is so soft and he has this way of just barely ghosting his fingertips over my skin that drives me mad.

He's sweet, too. Last night, when we were falling asleep, he kissed me soft and long and said, "My love, what could I ever say that would tell you how much I love you and how much you mean to me?"

"Mm…kiss me like that again and I'll know."

"If you say so…" he said, and he kissed me the same way again, and I could've melted right then and there. Instead I rested my head on his chest and let him stroke my hair until I fell asleep.

Heaven knows I'm not out of shape, but I'm a little sore. It doesn't bother me much, because it went away pretty quick when we were first married, and we aren't traveling, either.

But I don't want to talk about that too much. It's been so nice just stopping and resting here. Simonn hasn't been up late, and Sigmun hasn't been worried about his voices, and Dolora has been acting more relaxed than before. She's always calm in demeanor, but rarely truly relaxed.

We have to move on soon. But not for one more day.

22 March 1622

We arrive in the next town tomorrow, after our brief respite in the woods. I'm feeling a lot more…ready, I suppose. I feel well-rested and ready to go out and teach. It's more wearing than I realized to teach people how to read, and to start over from scratch every two weeks.

23 March 1622

And so we begin. Our first day in town began with talking to the reverend, who was not keen on letting us sleep in his church, so we set up camp right outside the village. Dolora and Sigmun went into town to spread the word, and I went hunting, and Simonn cooked. A few people came to eat with us, and I felt the warmth of camaraderie.

Sometimes I miss our hometown. I knew everyone there, and they all knew me. I didn't like everyone there, and they didn't all like me, and I know I said and did things that I shouldn't have said or done, but it's my home. It's where I'm from.

I wonder if I'll ever go back.

25 March 1622

I finished lessons today and started talking with a woman named Joanne, who wanted to know if I knew anything about gardening.

"I suppose, a little. Dolorosa kept a garden in our hometown. Why?"

"Would you like to see my garden?"

"Of course."

I followed her to her home, and then to her backyard, which was the largest garden I've ever seen.

"I've been working on it since I was married," she said. "So four years now. My eldest likes to help when she can."

"Can I meet her?"

"Sure. Jane, honey, come on out to meet the nice lady. What should I have her call you?"

"She can call me Disciple, I don't mind."

Jane toddled over to her mother and said, "Hi Mama. Hi missus."

"This is Disciple, honey."

"Hi Mrs. Disciple."

"Hello, Jane," I said. "Is this your mama's garden?"

"Uh-huh. But I get to help sometimes."

"And are you very good at that?"

She nods. "Mama says I'm the best!"

"Can you show me what you do in the garden?"

She nodded and ran off to show us how she finds and pulls up weeds.

"Are you going to teach her?" I asked Joanne.

"Yes," she said. "I want her to learn to read, too."

"It'll be easier since she's younger," I said. "I learned when I was seven."

"Really? Who taught you?"

"Dolorosa. She taught me most everything I know."

"She's not your mother, though."

"My mother-in-law. She's Signless's mother."

She nodded. "Signless is your husband?"

"Indeed he is. I'm very lucky."

"Indeed. I love mine, but…he has his moments."

"Well, so does mine. He's stubborn as all hell, and he snores sometimes-not to mention how terribly absent-minded he can be. But he's only human-I'm sure I do things that irritate him."

"I think mine's a good man, when it comes down to it. But he has a temper sometimes, my goodness. He's never hurt me, though, so I count myself lucky."

"Insults can hurt worse than fists."

"Oh, he doesn't do any of that. He'll just leave for a little while, go to the pub sometimes or just walk around the village."

I nodded. "I'm glad to hear that he's never hurt you."

"Yes," she said, looked at Jane, who was still hunting for weeds. "And I don't think he will."

"I'm glad," I said to her, and there was a sort of quiet understanding between us that for most women it's not this way. I think we're the lucky ones.

26 March 1622

Simonn was up last night, but when I woke up, Sigmun did too.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Simonn's awake."

"What?"

"Simonn's up again. When he has nightmares, he'll just sit up by the fire."

"So…you're going to sit with him?"

"Yes."

"Let me."

"My love, you need some rest."

"So do you."

"If you're sitting up with Simonn, and with me, then you must not be getting any sleep at all. I'll sit up with Simonn tonight."

"Sigmun, you can't."

"Why not? He's my best friend, too."

"I-I need-it's…it's more difficult than it sounds."

"Dianna?" he asked, very gently. "Are you…are you keeping things from me?"

"No," I lied, and it felt terrible to lie to him. "But with the melancholy…I think Simonn has it too. So it's better if I go."

"Alright," he said. "But…you know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I do tell you everything," I said. "My love, it would hurt me to keep a secret from you." It does hurt me to keep a secret from him. It hurts more than I want to say.

"I trust you," he said softly. Then, after a breath, "I'll make you and him some tea."

"Thanks, love," I said.

So I sat with Simonn and we drank our tea and after my love was asleep again, I heard again how we're all going to die in some terrible way. It doesn't frighten me quite so much anymore to hear him say it, so I suppose that's good.

27 March 1622

I told Simonn today how Sigmun knows that we're keeping secrets and Dolora knows he think it'll end badly.

"Shit," he cursed.

"We can't keep this from them forever."

"Why not?"

"Because they're going to find out. We're family, Simonn. It hurts me to keep secrets from Sigmun-from Dolora."

"We're going to die before they find out."

"What?"

"I think we can keep the secret until the end."

"Should we?"

"Don't you…do you think that they wouldn't drive themselves mad trying to save us? Do you think they'll just realize what we do, that there's nothing we can do?"

"You think that. I don't. Maybe they'll just decide you're nuts and go on with their lives."

"But probably not. They're more likely to believe me and try to stop it."

"Simonn, I cannot keep keeping secrets from Sigmun. He's my best friend-I don't keep any secrets from you!"

"Please, Dianna," he said, and his voice was suddenly threaded with the most genuine fear I've ever heard from him. "Please."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Because I couldn't stand it. If they went mad…I couldn't stand for it to be my fault."

"We're already mad. I have melancholy, Sigmun hears voices…"

"But it would be my fault."

I sighed. "Fine. I won't tell them now. But…someday, we have to."

"Someday," he said. "Someday, we will."

Someday.

28 March 1622

I saw guards in the village today. I remember them because…I saw them harassing this woman who couldn't afford something-or-other, so I bought whatever it was for her and walked away with her. I was trembling so badly she practically had to hold me up, and by the time I got back to camp I could hardly walk, and my breath was too fast, and my heart was pounding, and Sigmun just held me until I could breathe again.

31 March 1622

We've been so busy lately, teaching and preaching and healing, and all that, that I've hardly had time to write. I think Simonn's been having fewer nightmares, and Sigmun's voices haven't seemed to have been bothering him so much. Maybe it's better for us to keep busy, at least for a while.

I'll just keep busy. If I keep busy I don't think I'll have time to worry.