Disclaimer: Star Trek and
its characters are the sole property of Paramount/Viacom. No copyright
infringement is intended.
Pairing: Uber J/7
Content: This story depicts loving f/f relationships.
If you are under 18, or this is illegal in your area, please exit.
Rated R
for adult themes, and violence.
Note: Many thanks to L.C.
Red Dust
By Xan
Part I
Most
winters melt leisurely into spring, but the winter of 2615 passed like sugar
through a broken sieve. Dark earth,
burnt under a blistering sun, choked vegetation and coated
Ernesta
Hilling, used to spring planting, knelt on the path to her barren acres and
traced an X in the dust. Writing, what is it good for? Silliness came to mind as her niece Faith,
pried open a rusty gate. Plain
silliness.
“It’s nigh
on
“My
studies took longer today. The Sisters-”
“The Sisters. That daft
lot will lead you down a dark path sure as they did your Uncle.” Ernesta
crossed herself. “Get on in the house with ya and put those dang books
down. You’re to trade for some ale and
whiskey at market-we’ve company for supper.”
“Yes, Aunt.”
Ernesta
sucked her teeth at the girl’s slow gait. Fast enough for the likes of the
Sisters, but never so fast to raise a dust rag, or milk the cows.
***
Faith
didn’t care much for her aunt’s “company”-or drinking buddies as the village
folk called the old women. Company meant slaving in the kitchen. Company meant
listening to crass talk. Talk like that of the market rat Billy Hager. Sure
enough, today he stood behind the counter of his father’s general store,
insulting the customers. Faith held her cloth covered pail behind her back.
Maybe Billy would ignore her and go for easier game.
“Red
Dust,” he called to Faith, pointing wickedly at her soiled boots. “Come down to
trade Auntie’s curdled milk?”
“For adulterated spirits? Yes,” Faith replied.
A few of
Billy’s cronies snorted, others slapped the wooden counter filled with bottles
of brew. “Miserable old woman sent James Hilling to his grave,” said one of
Ernesta. Another slapped Billy’s hand, “This young witch didn’t do him any good
either.”
“One bottle of ale and one rye whiskey.” Faith banged the pail on the
counter, and a squirt of milk flew through the cloth hitting the offending
customer square in the eye. “Test my patience, Brother Hager, and I will give
you the same bath as your filthy friend.”
The men
backed away, grousing at the honorific. “Brother!
He ain’t been to devotions since
knee-high,” said the dirtiest one in the group.
“That’s
enough.” Billy tried to look fierce, but his eyes gave him away. “Got time for
a story?” he asked Faith.
“No.”
“Come on.
I can tell you things you won’t find in those books of yours. Herbs and
flowers-can’t do diddle without them calling you witchy.”
Faith
bristled. Billy Hager had a black heart, yet they called her witch. If she took off her glove and touched his grimy skin,
she’d know exactly what he was about, but the thought of touching such a
scoundrel made her queasy. She’d have to settle for words instead. “What do you
know about anything?”
“Lots.”
Billy grinned and leaned on the counter. He pushed a sack of spirits toward
her, and gave her a free peppermint, then grabbed the pale of milk. “Our ancestors
flew in the air, and raced boats without sails-big boats. Bet that’s not in
your books.”
“Neither
is their taste for destruction.”
“Gloomy girl. I’m gonna get out of this town-sail one day, and see everything. Don’t
you want to come with me?”
Faith wanted
nothing more than to “see everything”, as long as it wasn’t red dust. Dust
drove her aunt deeper into the rye sack and meaner toward Faith’s studies. “Money slipping away, slipping away to dust
and all you can do is read those damn books.” Her aunt’s agony over the lack of coin and
fair trade drove Faith closer to the Sisters and their teachings. Closer to the village gate.
“You’re
like me,” Billy said.
Faith
doubted it, and let him know with a loud sigh.
“You’ve
got the gift-different, but you’ve
got it same as me.”
“Nonsense.” Faith backed away before he could touch her. “If you are so brave,
Brother Hager, then stop talking and leave the village.”
“I will!”
Billy grew red-faced. “And when I do, you can shine my shoes at the village
gate.”
Faith
looked Billy up and down seeing right through to his heart, but it wasn’t black
at all; satin red like the dust on her shoes.
***
Faith
walked slowly under the beating sun. She turned off the main square-a short
distance from her aunt’s home- and watched the sailors unload crates from a
tall sleek ship. The black and green sails told its origin to be from
Greenford, the north side of Amerika proper. Greenford, being a big town would
be enough of everything to see, at least to Faith’s curious mind. Yes, quite a
bit of everything.
“Hold,
lass. Mind your dress or my men will muck it up.” A lanky man with captain’s
stripes leaned forward to catch her arm. “What are you doing on the pier? Are
you looking for someone?”
“What?”
Faith stared up into his face. She’d never seen anyone like him before: warm
skin glowing like milk coffee, and a kink of black hair cropped close to his
head. Unlike his men, he was cleaned-shaven. She wondered if he could even grow
a beard on his soft skin. Kindness emanated from the man, but men like him
weren’t allowed into the village. They had to stay back on the boat once the
cargo was unloaded. Dark souls, the pig-minded villagers of
“Have you
never seen a vessel like this before?” he asked.
Faith knew
he figured her silence for ignorance of tall boats, but Billy’s rattling tales
of high-powered machines dwarfed the fine rig. “Is this your boat?”
“This,
young lady, is a ship. And no, I do not own it-my mistress, Meredith Stuart,
does.”
“Does she
own you too?” Faith grew alarmed when the warm smile slipped from the Captain’s
face. The Sisters had told her to do no harm to others in manner or action,
unless it was Billy Hager. “I meant no harm. I-”
“You think
the whole world is like your narrow little village.” The Captain moved away
from Faith, but stopped his retreat when he saw the silver bracelet on her
wrist. “You are of the Sisters?”
The chill
left his dark eyes, and relief flooded Faith, washing away a seldom experienced
touch of remorse. “Yes,” she replied.
“That
explains a great deal.”
It didn’t
explain a thing to Faith, but she refused to ask the captain what he’d meant
thanks to Billy’s taunts about her ignorance. Her competitive drive gave her
courage to seek out something new. “I must go home now, but may I come aboard
your ship in the morning? I would like to see the deck.”
“My men
dislike being away from home too long, and it’s been a very long trip from the
Southlands. The air in that place is heavy with foul smells of loathsome
creatures. Pray with your Sisters that red dust is all you have to contend
with. So, young lady, regretfully, we sail for Greenford tonight.”
“Oh.”
Disappointment replaced remorse. Faith wasn’t one to hope. Hope left one pale
and wanting, wasting precious energy to learn, but this dashed opportunity hurt
a bit.
“Maybe one
day we’ll see you in Greenford. Lady Meredith would be intrigued.”
“I do not
understand.”
“Yes,” the
Captain stroked his chin. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”
Faith drew
closer to this enigmatic yet kind man and touched his arm. “I wish you a good
trip, Captain.”
“My name
is Malcolm. No harm comes to me or mine on the sea, but thank you all the
same.” Malcolm pushed up his sleeve, revealing a silver chain snaked twice around
his dark wrist.
“Peaceful
voyage,” she said, holding up her palms as the Sisters had taught. Gentle, kind
Malcolm, she thought, hurrying toward home.
***
Faith
entered the house looking a sight: hair damp from the heat, clothes bathed in
red dust, and the sack of spirits sagging in her arms. Her own spirits sagged
when her aunt’s strange company bade her welcome.
“You’re
Faith,” The man said as if she didn’t know her own name. “She has slim hips,
Ernesta, but she’s quite a beauty just as you said. Her hair reminds me of my
wheat fields. Do you expect a yield this year?”
“Not much
of one, but thank His Reverence we’ve got your hay coming in from the ship. The
cows won’t starve.” Ernesta moved closer to the stranger’s chair and leaned in
close. “I’ve had many a slender one come into fold, if you catch my meaning.”
Faith
frowned. A blind frog couldn’t miss Ernesta’s meaning if she tossed it with a
brick. Faith laid the sack on a table. She may be boiled from the sun, but she
wasn’t a heifer in heat. Yet, this man appraised her like she was one of
Ernesta’s cows.
“Faith,
say hello to George Shackler- he’s a cousin on my father’s side.”
“A pity
we’ve never met before,” Shackler eyed her like a thirsty man lost in the
desert.
“She’s my
James’ niece, not mine.” Ernesta sniffed the air like a hunting dog. “What
reason would she have to meet any of my kin until now?”
Shackler
stood and kissed Faith’s hand after forcing it from her hip. He was dark, but
not like kind Malcolm. More of a light cream; sticky and sweet. Faith let her
hand go limp, and Shackler finally release it.
“Did you
come from the ship?” Faith asked.
“Yes, and
I had a nice voyage too if you’d care to know.”
Unfazed by
the gentle rebuke, Faith continued, “Will you reside in this house while in
“Well-”
“Faith,
have you lost your senses, girl? Who ever heard of the betrothed staying under
the same roof?”
Betrothed?
“I have a
room at Mandrake’s
This time? What happened to his first wife? Only wife, Faith corrected her thoughts.
She would no more marry this oily snake than dance naked in the village square
like Billy did when he was drunk off his father’s spirits.
“She’ll
give you plenty, George.”
Faith
didn’t look at her aunt’s greedy eyes, nor did she see the lump of gold coins
in her pocket. Instead, she put on her apron and went into the kitchen to serve
up her aunt and oily cousin George, a supper they’d never forget.
***
The moon
hung low in the purple sky, and a pair of village lamp men climbed ladders to
aid its weak light. Red dust seemed to make everything glow beneath the yellow
lights, even the rocky path Faith traveled to the village square. She’d passed
the sleek ship on her way, watching a throng of rats scurrying on the pier.
Their number was more than usual, but maybe big ships brought more
rats-Southlands rats, big and black as the cloak she wore.
Faith sat
down her bags and scanned the square. Maybe her timing was off, or Papa Hager’s
spirits were locked away, for Billy was nowhere in sight. Praise the Sisters, she thought. Billy’s naked hide-though taut and
slender-was not to her liking. She suspected no one’s hide was.
Faith went
to the general store and chucked a pebbled against a second story window,
calling the heathen boy out.
***
Billy
turned in a tortured dream. No, the wicked did not sleep well. His arm hung
over the side of the bed, and fingers brushed the bag half-hidden beneath. The
bag held his lifetime of stealing dreams in the nature of his father’s dry
goods: tanned hides, tobacco, linens taken from boxes off the ship at the pier.
He was especially proud of pilfering the linens-they’d fetch a nice price when
he left town. If he left town. And the spirits, let’s
not forget the spirits.
Bottles of
gin chased the man though his dream, calling him a low born thief. Billy woke
from his drunken nightmare at the ticking sound on his bedroom window. He got
up, and looked out, then rubbed his eyes.
“Nightshade’s
come to get me!” he cried out, confused by the dark robed vision standing
below. A child’s tale of ghosts and devils came back to him: bad children go
down below if they steal. Billy guessed he was busted because stealing was his
thing. He opened the window slowly.
“Leave me,
cursed Nightshade. I made my offering to the Sisters.”
“Fool.”
Faith removed her hood. “I wish to see everything. Are you ready?”
Billy
smirked and pulled off his shirt.
“I have
already seen that,” Faith said. “Do you want to go or not?”
“Now?”
“Do you
think I came at this hour to pray with you?”
“Wait.
Wait for me.” Girl has the stones of a
Nightshade-ready for adventure at this hour.
Billy
dressed, and reached beneath the bed to get his loot. “What the-” He drew back
his hand after brushing against something cold and furry. “Damn rats.” He
kicked the dead creature aside and grabbed the bag.
Before
leaving through the opened window, Billy looked around his room for the last
time, waiting for a touch of sentimentality to seep in. It didn’t. He was glad
of it and left.
***
“What made
you change your mind?” Billy asked. The dark streets gave him a chill. They
were good for dancing in while drunk, but not safe for walking with a Sister
girl. The village Brothers would kill him if they caught them together.
Faith told
him about what happened earlier in her home. She held her breath. If Billy
refused to go, she would be alone-a thing forbidden in the surrounding
villages.
“Shackler?
He’s big farmer up Southlands way. Never did a day’s work in his life-his
servants do it. I can’t imagine you married to a gentleman.”
“Before
tonight, I could not imagine standing in the village square with the village
idiot, but here I stand.”
“Thief and
drunk, I don’t mind, but idiot’s going too far.” Billy turned to the lattice,
ready to climb back up.
“Did you
steal the belongings in this bag?” Faith called to the market rat, knowing full
well he did.
“Earnings…my earnings.” Billy grabbed his bag before she could peek inside. “How
did you get out of the house without Ernesta and Shackler hearing?”
Faith
reddened. “I fed them prunes with laudanum.”
“And they
say I’m a criminal. You could be put away for practicing that kind of
devilment.” Billy laughed. “What road do we take, my lady?”
“They will
catch us before the sun comes up if we walk. We are going on a voyage, Brother
Hager.”
“Don’t
call me that.” Billy scratched his head. “What do mean, voyage?”
“That
ship,” Faith pointed toward the pier, “is called the Stuart. We must hurry before it departs.”
“Who do you know on that ship?”
“I know
the captain.” I know Malcolm.
***
“Do you
see the captain anywhere on deck?” Billy asked. They stood on the pier watching
the sailors load cargo for the last ten minutes, and Billy was pacing back and
forth.
“Something
is not right.” Faith recalled the pictures of ships in Billy’s purloined book.
The Stuart’s long oars suspended in
the air were made of metal, and the sails didn’t hang right. It made no sense
for a ship about to embark.
“I’ve
never seen one like this baby before either.” Billy took Faith’s hand, and they
boarded the ship. “Let me do the talking.”
“Where do
you think you’re going?” A beefy red-bearded man blocked their way. “This is
not a passenger ship. Red dust whelps.”
“It was
for Shackler.” Billy said, reasoning no gentleman of Shackler’s standing would
bother to travel from the Southlands by coach.
“It’s not
your business, farmer, but he’s a business associate of the family. Now be
about your own business, and take the… woman with you.”
Faith stepped
in front of Billy before he could move on the big man. She removed her silver
chain. “Give this to Captain Malcolm. He will see us aboard.”
“You take
me for a messenger boy? Howard, come here you pole cat. Take this here thing to
the Captain. Tell him he has guests.”
“That’s
more like it.” Billy waived impatiently at the retreating sailor.
“I’m
Edward Stuart, First Mate.” Edward leaned closer to Billy, eying his bag. “In
case Malcolm decides to throw you back into the dust, I can fix it for you to board.”
Billy
balked.
“Give him
something,” Faith ordered. Her tolerance for Billy’s haughty nature ran low in
the humid night. “Now!”
Billy
growled, but drew out the fine linens wrapped in an old blanket. “Something for
your wife, if any woman was crazy enough to have you.”
“Watch it
cur.” Edward discarded the blanket and stuffed the linens beneath his jacket.
Howard ran
forward, and placed the bracelet in Faith’s outstretched hand. “Cap says take
the Sister to Cabin One. You,” he indicated Billy, “sleep below in the hold.”
Edward
laughed. “Guess Malcolm thinks you’ll tarnish the Sister’s virtue.”
“I am
known as Faith.”
“Hush,”
Billy whispered. “They don’t need to know you haven’t taken vows yet.”
Faith
sighed, and followed the clumsy Howard to her cabin. She was sure Billy’s lying
ways would get them in trouble before they docked in Greenford.
She said
goodnight to Howard, and shook the red dust from her clothing before entering
the cabin.
***
Faith was
so amazed by the opulent cabin that she almost opened the door to inform Howard
of his mistake, but on the dresser there was a written welcome from Malcolm: “Sleep well, little Sister.”
Next to
the note laid a lady’s brush, delicate with painted roses. Faith flipped it
over and pulled away a strand of red hair. When she held it up to the light, a
sensation of being watched poured over her skin like warm drops of water.
Steel-grey
eyes bored down on her from a portrait held securely on the wall. “Meredith
Stuart. Are you the great lady?” Faith started at a knock on her door. “Come
in.”
“Think
you’re still at home?” Billy asked, immediately dropping into a chair after
entering. “Why is the door unlocked?”
“I have
nothing to steal.”
“Your auntie
obviously didn’t teach you about traveling. It’s a good thing I’m here.”
“Indeed.”
Faith took a blanket and dropped it on the floor for Billy.
“Thanks,”
he sheepishly replied. “That sticky-fingered Edward took mine. And I can’t
sleep down in the hold. You were right, Faith, something’s wrong,” he babbled
on. “There’s no crew rowing, and the sails are wrapped tighter than my nerves.
How are we moving? Machines, I tell you, machines.”
Is he gifted in reading thoughts?
Lucky guess, she hoped.
“Do you want a light left on?”
“I… What?
You think I’m afraid of the dark?”
“You
called me Nightshade.”
“She was
real! Remember when you were a little girl, and you played patty cake?”
Little
girl, yes, but Faith couldn’t recall playing that game, or any others. Yet, the
words came to mind:
Nightshade,
Nightshade, witches brew.
She made the children
drink.
Nightshade put them
in her stew,
She boiled them red
and pink.
Nightshade,
Nightshade, witches brew.
She’ll do the same to
you.
“It is
only a child’s tale.” Faith retrieved a gown and a towel from her bag. “We have
our own washroom. I hope you intend to use it when I am done.” Red dust glowed
in Billy’s blond hair and his clothes were dusty too. Faith glared at the
scoundrel until he nodded.
“Let me
tell you a story.”
“Not at
this hour.” Faith shook her head.
“No,
wait.” Billy stretched out on his blanket. “When we were kids-”
“Be
brief.” Faith opened the washroom door.
“One of
the Sisters-renamed as Luce-had to leave
“Brief.”
“Luce-was-a-witch. Goodnight.” Billy turned over on his blanket, feigning
sleep.
“You are
lying. The Sisters would have told me. What proof do you have?”
Billy kept
his eyes shut.
“You lie.”
Faith made the sign of the cross and prayed for more refined company like the
beautiful Lady Stuart hanging on the wall. Then she locked the washroom door
behind her.
***
For five
days, the Stuart cut through the
ocean waves like a hot knife. Billy barfed day and night; Malcolm did not greet
them, and First Mate Edward made a nuisance of himself. This left Faith feeling
lonely on the upper deck since Edward’s prattle failed to pierce her curious
mind.
Edward
leaned over the rail and tossed his cigar into the ocean. “By night, the sea
has a haunting way about her.”
“Perhaps
it does for you.” Faith said. The only thing haunting her at night was Lady
Stuart’s grey eyes. Eyes like the ocean’s waves topped with foam whiter than an
Edward
stared in surprise. “She doesn’t like red dust.”
“No one
likes a land without rain,” Faith said, moving closer to the big man despite
his guarded nature. “Surely, you know more.”
“I married the last woman who asked me that
question, though she didn’t pose it like you.” Edward laughed. “I take it,
that’s not for you, is it Sister?”
Shackler’s
oily image floated like a cloud over the deep waters, and Faith shied away.
Perhaps the elusive Malcolm would tell her what she wanted to know without
pulling answers from her as well.
“You’ll
get no fight from me. Good health, Faith.”
“It’s in
your mind. Your mind…your mind!” Billy chanted over
again and slammed the rail with his fist. Then he calmed and sat on the deck
like a well-trained pup.
“Puking all over my ship! Seasick baby,” said Edward. “Now he’s talking to himself.
Lunatic.”
“No, he is
a thief.”
“Eh? The
boy’s sick.”
“You are
wrong. It is no more than strong drink.” I
do not feel sickness from Billy.
“Well,
lass, I’m going below. I have a mule-kick headache, and it’s not from drink.”
“When will
we be in Greenford waters?”
“See those
blue mountains yonder? That’s Greenford.”
“It is
beautiful.” Faith held up her palms, and Edward gave them a blank stare. Though
the ocean air was cool, she saw that his brow was damp, and his hair lank.
“Take guard over your health, Brother Edward.”
“It’s
nothing but a headache, girl. And don’t go around saying Brothers and Sisters in
Greenford, or my sister Meredith will bite you.”
***
Greenford Landing
Though the
Stuart had docked hours ago, the crew
stayed aboard to clean the ship and examine one another for signs of illness.
Malcolm made it clear to Faith and Billy that it was protocol to do so since
they traveled to so many foreign ports. Yet, he took pity on the tired pair. He
took them off the ship, and purposefully led them down back roads until they
reached
“…and stay
out of Faith’s room,” Malcolm warned Billy.
“It’s not
what you think.” Billy cleared his throat and spat out the last taste of
seasickness. Then he shut his door without saying goodnight to them.
“He is
right, Malcolm.”
“I know,
Sister, or should I say nursemaid? Cabin walls are thin.” Malcolm laughed, but
not unkindly. “Ivy will make breakfast for you two in the morning. Then we’ll
figure out what kind of work best suits you.”
“I will
work with your Sisters.”
Malcolm
regarded Faith, whose chin jutted defiantly from her hooded cloak. Her simple
ways troubled him as much as Billy’s thievery. “We have no such group in
Greenford, but there is one who can teach you medicines.”
“No
Sisters?”
“I must
go, Faith.” He reached out, and lowered her raised palms, then clasped her hand
in the manner of Greenford. “When asked,
you worked the land in Irving-nothing more.”
***
Malcolm
left Faith standing in the hallway of
Howard was
asleep on the gang plank when Malcolm reached the pier. That boy is hopeless. “Wake up!” Malcolm shook Howard roughly. “Is
inspection done?”
“Aye,
Cap.” Howard got to his feet in a shaky stupor. “The men are lined up and ready
to leave.”
Malcolm
looked up to the deck. “Where is Edward?”
“Uh…dunno.”
“You were
sleeping the whole time I left, weren’t you boy?” Malcolm took Howard’s silence
for a yes. “Let the men go. And Howard, do a better job next trip.”
***
Come
morning, Faith roused Billy from his cozy nest on her floor. The inn’s dining
room and kitchen were deserted, so was the main hall.
“I’m
hungry. Let’s cook our own breakfast,” Billy whined.
“That
would be stealing.” Faith dragged him outside. “There are berries along one of
the roads we took yesterday.”
“You see
in the dark now? Sure didn’t get a merchant’s welcome-didn’t see that coming,
huh?”
“We are
not merchants.”
“Not rats
either.”
“Move
along, thief.”
They
passed gardens of with lavender and roses. Oleander bloomed wildly, and white
trees, Faith didn’t recognize, grew in abundance, spreading limbs with purple
blooms. She stopped to gather berries on a path leading to a clearing in the
forest.
“What are
those people doing?” asked Billy. He loved crowds, and this group, milling
around a small cottage, looked ripe for thievery. “They don’t look too happy.”
Several
soldiers stoked a fire in the clearing, while a hysterical woman slapped at a
hooded figure seated atop a horse. Faith watched as Malcolm pulled the woman
aside, soothing her with the power of his voice.
“Why is
she making such a fuss over a few burning rags?” Billy wiped off a couple of
red berries and popped them into his mouth.
“Those are
not rags.” Faith regarded the rider, who stared down solemnly at the burning
corpse.
The rider
raised a hand to silence the crowd. “Allow them to take only the family albums
and nothing more.”
“Ready
upon your orders, my lady.”
The rider
sat straight in her saddle, and scanned the crowd, momentarily locking eyes
with Faith. “Burn the house,” she said, steering her horse out of the clearing.
The young
woman broke free of Malcolm and tried to block the rider’s way. “No, no! How could you? Edward was your
brother!”
Malcolm
pulled the struggling woman back, and the rider moved onto the path.
“That was
cruel of you,” Faith said, as the rider moved past.
The rider
dropped the horse’s reins, and removed her hood. A gaze- more blue than the
grey of Lady Stuart’s portrait aboard ship-settled upon Faith. “Who are you?” Meredith’s words, etched in
pain, floated softly to the stranger.
Billy
wiped berry juice from his mouth, and cautiously approached the woman, but
Faith grabbed his arm. “Friends of Edward. What crime
did he commit to cause this?” she asked.
Meredith
regarded her coldly.
“Answer
me!”
“Return to
the inn.” Meredith raised her hood, and took up the reins, riding off before
Faith could speak.
“Welcome
to Greenford.” Billy grabbed the rest of the berries from Faith’s pockets.
“Where are you going?”
“To comfort Edward’s widow.”
***
Faith’s
heavy cloak did little to protect her from the black drifts of acrid smoke. Her
pale blue eyes watered, giving her the appearance of one deep in mourning. She
removed her cloak and placed it around the shoulders of the Widow Stuart.
The widow
shifted her place on a painted boulder, making room for Faith. “Who cries for
my Edward?”
Faith was
taken aback for she’d never cried-or did not remember doing so. Outrage at the
harsh treatment of Edward and his family drove her more than tears to the
hapless widow’s side. “I am Faith.” At a lost for words of comfort, she fell
silent.
“Faith is
a friend who means well.” Malcolm gently
removed the cape and handed it back to Faith. “Ivy, you must see to your
daughter now. Howard will take you to the Manor, and I will send someone to
prepare morning meals.”
“No! I
won’t live under the same roof with that woman.”
“She loved
him too.” Malcolm sighed. “The inn is full, and it’s no place to grieve.”
“She may
have my room,” said Faith.
“Or mine,”
Billy added. “Family’s not always the place to be when you’re hurting.”
Though she
agreed with him, Faith was appalled at his boldness. “Billy! Hold your tongue.”
“Why?
Would you want to be with Aunt Ernesta at a time like this?”
Malcolm
gripped Billy’s forearms. “This is not the place for your foolishness. I will
decide what’s best.”
Faith took
Malcolm aside. “What happen here?”
“Plague.”
The tone
of Malcolm’s voice shot through Faith like a plow tearing earth. “Do you
believe it to be from
“Most likely the Southlands.”
Relief.
At least she and Billy wouldn’t be hanged from the forest trees. “Have you made
your decision, Malcolm?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Why speak
of things you won’t like?” Malcolm turned away from Faith and ordered his
soldiers to guard the cottage, lest the fire should spread.
***
Malcolm
had hauled off Ivy, her daughter Wynona and Billy back to the inn, while Howard
escorted Faith to Stuart Manor. Faith fumed at Malcolm’s determination to
separate her from Billy: it seemed she was losing one friend after another
since boarding the Stuart. Now she
sat alone in the guest quarters of the woman she’d insulted.
“Ever have
so many rooms to your lonesome?” asked Howard.
Faith
regarded Howard for signs of mean-spirits, but saw only compassion in his
simple face. She shook her head. Her new quarters were bigger than the entire
house she’d lived in with greedy Ernesta. Ernesta. The woman was most likely screaming her lungs out from
relinquishing Shackler's gold. Unless he played the gentleman and let her keep
the bride payment.
“Look,
Faith-they’d given you fancy dresses.” Howard pulled open the closet doors to
provide a better view.”
“They are
not mine.”
“The note
here says they are: ‘For the sake of precaution, I’ve burn your clothes. The
blue frock is for dinner. M. Stuart.’ Nice to have fine things for a change.’’
Howard blushed, and closed the doors. “I’m…sorry. I don’t usually go ‘round
with two feet in my mouth.”
“You are
not at fault.” Faith threw open a window and looked out on well-manicured
grounds, stables and nearby lake. She wondered how Meredith would react if the
militia burned down her estate. “At least the walls are free of the Lady’s
portrait.”
“She’s not
a bad lot.”
Faith
chose to ignore his assessment. “Has
anyone else fallen ill?”
“I hear
they took Wynona to the witch…to Astrid’s place. The girl felt a bit feverish.”
No. not the child too. Faith
gazed at the tearful man. “Let us pray that she in good hands. Where does
Astrid live? ”
“Shouldn’t
ask that, Miss. Besides, I’m in enough trouble.”
“Your
feelings are unproductive.”
“But it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Edward slip
past I… He had a present for his wife. He… he only wanted to get home.”
“Did he
touch you?”
“He never
in his life raised a hand to me.”
He wouldn’t. Faith knew Edward’s spirit, and
regretted missing the extent of his illness. “What I mean is,
you should be checked for illness.”
“I just
get a little sea sick sometimes, like your friend.”
“How does
Billy fare?”
Howard
laughed. “Smart mouth, that one. Malcolm locked him in
the cellar because he wouldn’t behave. Locked good and
proper.”
Not for long, thought Faith. She sat down next to
Howard, careful not to touch him. A person’s mind could hide secrets, but their
body usually gave them away freely. Howard’s told of spiraling loneliness and
fear. “Inform the servants that I will dine in my quarters. You may join me if
it pleases you.”
***
Night
fell, and dark clouds poured a heavy rain onto Billy’s sleek body. After
slipping through a broken window in the inn’s cellar, he’d posed as a messenger
en route to Stuart Manor. Foreigner that he was, the townsfolk ran him round in
circles-the last do-gooder directing
him straight into the forest.
Lightening
struck.
White
trees mocked him; their purple limbs swaying in the wind. Billy leaned forward,
his legs moving faster, but in his mad scramble to the Manor, his foot caught
on a root.
“No!”
His gaze
beheld a small figure standing near the pale trees. Can’t be... It’s just your mind. Lights glowed behind the figure,
showing Stuart Manor in the distance. Whatever the thing was-man, beast, or
specter-he’d have to go through it to reach the Manor.
Billy took
off for the Manor. As he passed the row of trees, the figure disappeared.
***
“I do not
believe a word of it.” Faith rubbed the wet scoundrel down with a towel.
“Something
was out there.”
“Indeed.
At least water has met your skin-you should be clean for a while.”
“You knew
I was coming?” Billy spied a blanket on the floor. “I couldn’t stay in that
cellar. There was this huge rat-walked just like a man.” Billy blushed at his
own words then remembered that Faith had no sense of humor. His pride was saved. “It was me or him.”
“To think:
I narrowly missed dining with a rat.” Faith gave him one of the three meals
she’d ordered earlier.
“I can’t
believe you ate two helpings.” Billy eyed the empty plate, and his stomach
growled at the missed meal.
“Howard
was here.”
“That’s
fine by me-long as he doesn’t take my blanket.”
Faith blew
out the candles.
“Hey! How
am I supposed to eat in the dark?”
“Find a
way.”
***
The Lady of Stuart Manor
Meredith
Stuart poured a glass of wine for Malcolm. “Did you sanitize the ship?”
“Yes,” he
said, discomfort etched on his face.
“And the crew?”
“They are
well.”
“Astrid’s report on my… niece?”
“Wynona is
stable.” Malcolm rose from the dining room table. “You are allowed to grieve,
you know. It would also help to eat something.”
“Don’t!”
Meredith held up her hand, regretting her harsh tone. “Work…work keeps my mind
occupied.”
“Meredith,
Meredith.” Malcolm rubbed his face. “Have you and Faith met?”
“We
certainly did. In the clearing, I might add. Howard showed her upstairs, and
she hasn’t been down since.” Meredith raked a hand through her hair. “A Sister? What were you thinking, Malcolm?”
“I had no
idea they would come to the clearing.”
“The clearing? I’m talking about Greenford.”
Malcolm
sunk low in his chair, and braced for the scalding heat of the fabled Stuart
glare. Much like her old man: a fiery kettle. Right down to her red roots.
However, Malcolm saw the fight go out of his friend. Her normally unlined face
looked worn with care.
“I think
I’ll retire for the night.” He paused a moment, considering whether to take the
wine. “The young lady will come down for breakfast tomorrow. Shall I have Howard
fetch Billy from the…inn?” Malcolm almost slipped and said cellar. Meredith
would never understand the hasty lockup.
“Don’t
bother. He’s in her quarters.”
“What! How
did he..?”
“Don’t
know, but he tore across the forest like a jackrabbit.” Meredith laughed for
the first time today. “Oh, before you retire, I’d like you to tell me exactly
what kind of Sister you’ve brought
into my home.”
***
Meredith
woke early with a dry mouth and swollen red eyes. From sleep; she tried to make the lie true. Her heart ached from
the loss of Edward, though the two hadn’t been close since her return to
Greenford. “Even the hounds couldn’t lick
that red grime from your skin. You’re a disgrace!” he’d told her when she
came home, seeking comfort from her family.
Years of
bitterness welled inside, but Meredith pulled her fractured mind together-she
couldn’t, wouldn’t, break down over this, not now. There were too many
potential patients to check, and recheck in the coming days. This time, the
formula was right, by the sweet breath of her dear Wynona, it had better be.
She
stretched, cracked her bones in her solitary bed, its left side-as always- cold
and empty: Where my heart should lie. But
there was no time for pity and old regrets. Both mistress and servant of Greenford,
Meredith got ready for a tiring fight with pestilence.
***
Moving
down the long corridor with shoes in hand, Meredith stopped outside the door to
Faith’s chambers. Her curiosity mounted:
Malcolm had never disobeyed her wishes by bringing an Irving Sister to
Greenford.
Meredith
entered and found the salon immaculate, as if no one lived there. In the
bedroom lay Faith, alone. One hand
covered her eyes, blocking the morning light.
Meredith
drew near and touched Faith’s silver bracelet.
Something wild pulsed in the girl-a power Meredith did not care to know.
She pulled back, rubbing her tingling fingertips. You’re in for a hard ride if you believe medicine is potion mixed with
prayer.
“Mmmmm.”
“What on
earth?” Meredith started from a sound emanating near the bed.
The jackrabbit snoozed on the floor. Looking
at Billy now, restful and smiling, Meredith would never have guessed that he
was the screaming banshee she’d spotted on her walk last night.
Billy
turned on his back and burped, waving the covers with his hand. No wonder she threw him out of bed: he fires
from both ends.
Meredith
moved again toward the girl, who in sleep looked much younger than her years.
Meredith guessed her to be no more than eighteen.
What on earth attracts her to him? Meredith left Faith’s quarters, more puzzled
than ever, and made her way downstairs to the dining room.
***
Faith got
up early, dressing in fine yellow silk, and none too happy about it. People
should be allowed to dress according to what suited their character. The
fanciful nature of semi-precious stones didn’t suit her. Not like the Lady
Stuart she spied moving across the lawn in black shirt and trousers.
Faith left
Billy wrapped in his blankets, and trailed Meredith to a small house in the
forest. Voices, raised in anger, drifted from a flower-laced window. The Widow
Ivy and Meredith Stuart were quarreling with a third woman. A child cried. Then
the third woman-Faith supposed to be Astrid- screamed for them to get out.
The front
door banged open, and Ivy Stuart fled the house, glancing quickly at Faith. The
distress and longing in the widow’s eyes, pushed Faith closer to the shelter of
an overgrown hedge. She waited until Ivy hurried away. Then she moved slowly
toward a clump of white trees.
White bark
and purple leaves shimmered in the sunlight. Faith pulled on a low branch,
crushing a leaf in her hands. Small hard berries, red as the stones on her
dress, stained her pale skin, and their spicy scent stung her nose.
“It called
Devil’s Blood, for obvious reasons.”
Meredith
alit from her horse, and withdrew a black handkerchief from a loop on her
waist. Faith moved away as Meredith offered to clean the mess from her hands.
“I can do
it myself.”
“Yes. I’ve
forgotten how fastidious Sisters are.” Meredith opened a canister, and gave it
to Faith. “Itches, doesn’t it? Pour it over your hands several times. Then rub
a bit grass between them.”
“It
works,” Faith said, amazed at the results. “Miraculous.”
“You won’t
find that in your prayer books.”
“I am not
a witless peasant.” Perhaps I can find a
prayer to cure a heartless shrew. “Will you teach me what you know?” Faith
asked, but the other woman hesitated.
“Why leave
a perfectly good school? Was it because of your young man?”
“I have my
reasons. Billy Hager is not one of them.”
“Oh? Where
is he now?”
“Where you
last saw him, Lady Stuart-on the floor in my bedroom.”
This drew
a blush from the great lady. “I believe Algernon needs water. Good day,
Sister.”
Before
Meredith could mount her horse, Faith took the black steed’s reins and led him
toward the lake, forcing Meredith to walk beside her.
“I thought
you weren’t a peasant.”
“That is
not what I said.” Faith stroked Algernon’s mane while he drank noisily at the
lake’s edge. “Besides, what shame is there in leading a beautiful animal?”
“Maybe we
should ask your blond stallion.”
“What?”
Billy
loped toward them with what appeared to be a handful of yellow grapes. Not
bothering to swallow, he offered both women a sloppy good morning.
“Nice
horse,” he patted Algernon’s rump as if the haughty steed were a border collie.
Faith
almost smiled. She realized with a start why she didn’t mind Billy’s company:
He treated everyone-lady, simpleton or Sister-with the same careless regard.
Even Lady Stuart seemed more amused than put off by the man.
“Sleep
well?” Meredith asked, declining Billy’s offer of grapes. “I hope so, because
those are Listle berries-you’ll be up all night.”
Billy spit
out the rest of the berries, and gave Meredith an accusatory glance.
“Lady
Stuart,” Faith began, backing away from the woman’s upraised hand. “Lady-”
“Meredith.
I don’t intend to call you Sister during your stay.”
The
temporary quality of Meredith’s words unnerved Faith. Stay. It wasn’t the “stay” of welcome to the neighborhood, but
“rest before you go”. Yet, she would not let her desire to learn go unquenched.
“Meredith, about my studies-”
“Astrid
will help you with that.” The smiled faded from Meredith’s lips. She grabbed
Algernon’s reins and stalked off.
“She’s not
too friendly, huh?” Billy rubbed his stomach. Someone in Greenford was going to
make a decent meal for him, or he’d take up the ladle himself.
Faith
ignored his comment. Something deep had hurt Meredith-an old hurt grinding
against the pain of Edward’s death. “Why did Malcolm throw you in the cellar?”
“He took
Wynona from her mother. I don’t care if the kid is sick, they belong together.”
“I thought
you said family-”
“I was
talking about people like her ladyship.”
He mock bowed, upsetting the berries in his churning belly. “I’m gonna be
sick-I never get sick. She cursed me!”
“Your
greed did that Billy.” A quality nothing good ever came from, she thought. Like
Shackler’s greedy eyes traveling over her body. It did no good for anyone.
***
Faith
watched as Billy crouched by the lake, drinking from the same spot Algernon had
earlier. The man had no fear of germs worming threw his body, drenching it with
untold illness. Luckily, Algernon was in good health, a testament to Meredith’s
care. Her love for the animal soaked right through to his black mane, but did
it extend to humans as well?
“Want to
go swimming, Faith?”
“Yes, but
you will have to teach me.”
She waited
for Billy’s laugh, but even he seem to remember Aunt Ernesta’s cries of,
“whoring devil” whenever Faith begged for a dip in Irving Lake.
“You can’t
swim in that thing.”
Faith
pulled off her boots, and unbuttoned her dress.
“Hold with
that, lass.” Malcolm approached them with shovel in hand. “I have other work
for Billy.”
“Manual labor?” Billy got his back up and marched toward Malcolm. “I’m a shopkeeper.”
“Among other things.” Malcolm handed him the shovel. “Make your way to the Old
Quarter. It’s behind the town square. Being the great messenger you are; I’m
sure you’ll have no trouble finding it.”
“And do
what when I get there?”
“Oh,
people are waiting to tell you what do, young mister.”
Faith
remained seated on the grass, eager for her assignment. Malcolm dropped down
beside her, and waited until Billy left before speaking:
“Do you
now regret leaving
“I have my
freedom.”
“By trading one curse for another?” Malcolm took one of Faith’s boots
and slipped it onto her foot. “I know about Shackler.”
“Did you-”
“Tell
anyone? No. Shackler would’ve run through you like his last two wives.”
Two? “What
happened to them?”
“No one
knows for sure about the first, but the second...Well, let’s just say she was
too smart for him to handle.”
Faith
wished she’d put more than laudanum in the snake’s stewed prunes. Then she said
a silent prayer, asking the Sisters to forgive her wicked thought. No one’s life
was worth her liberation. “Will Meredith allow me to stay?”
“For my
sake, I believe so. You’re my responsibility since I was the one who watered
the seed for freedom.”
“And Billy.” She could not forget the rascal though he enjoyed taunting her.
“You
spoiled my day: It troubles me to have something in common with Billy Hager.” A
wicked laugh escaped Malcolm’s lips, bringing life to his usually dour face.
“You and Meredith are too much alike.”
“You are
wrong.”
“No need
to leave. If I wanted to insult you-or her-I would say you’re both like
bullheaded sisters.”
“Why do
you stay with her?”
Malcolm
stretched out under the Devil’s Blood tree, and Faith leaned back with him,
taking pleasure in the lake-cooled breezes. She turned to him. He had the expression
of one groping from the right memory to divulge-something benign.
“Meredith’s
father-peace be with him-brought me here from the
Malcolm
frowned at Faith. She well knew the superstitions sailors carried in their
hearts toward women. She nodded for him to continue.
“Well, I
was the only captain to indulge the child. The crew thought the little hothead
was crazy when she ordered them to bathe everyday. But she was one of the best,
until other passions took hold.”
“What
passions?” Faith imagined a groundhog fighting its way out of frozen
ground.
Malcolm
rose, brushing grass from his robe. “I’ve said enough. It’s time for noonday
meal-care to join me?”
“You did
not answer my question.”
“Which
question might that be?” His soulful laugh was back. “Come, let’s bury old
bones and get some noonday meal.”
Faith got
up, and accepted the proud man’s arm without hesitation. He knew her touch and
wasn’t afraid of it. This alone buried questions of Meredith’s passions. For now.
***
Twilight
settled over Greenford, and the sky turned a flat gray slate. Faith settled in
too, keeping warm by the fire in her lonely bedroom. Though both noonday meal
and dinner with Malcolm had pleased her, she’d missed Billy, and yes, even
Meredith’s presence. In
“Do evil
and it will come back threefold. Forgive me Sisters.”
Faith said
her evening prayers. Then she took to her bed. Midway through the gray mist of
dreamless sleep, a stranger’s touch awakened Faith, leaving her breathless and
frightened. Once more, someone pressed her shoulder, hard, urgent.
“Wake up,
girl.”
“Who…who
are you?” Faith’s sleepy eyes took in a white-haired woman with violets strung
around her neck.
“Astrid.”
The woman held a small vial to Faith’s lips. “Drink.”
“No.”
“If I
fancied your death, I wouldn’t wake you up for it.”
Faith
drank, and the taste was enough to make her innards boil. “Name the properties
of this medicine.”
“You’re of
the Sisters, all right.” Astrid pulled back the covers. “Get dressed. We have
work.”
Faith got
up, and pulled on a suit of shiny flexible material-a one piece affair fitting
snuggly over her body. Plastiks. “Where are we going?”
Astrid
cupped Faith’s chin. “You have a strong mind.” Then she smoothed back the
girl’s tussled hair, appraising her looks. “Days grow darker. They make beauty
a curse to women.”
Faith’s
heart hung low in her chest as if hammered in place by a steel anvil: Astrid
had the touch, one more subtle than her own.
“These
clothes,” Faith ran her hands over the soft material, “are from vile Southland’s
rubber. They cause impurities in the air.”
“We die a
little to live.”
“That is
illogical.”
“Spirits
protect me: I’ve got another one on my hands.” Astrid laughed softly. “Come.
It’s time to earn our keep.”
***
The
Greenford barracks consisted of four connecting buildings sharing a courtyard.
Through driving rain, Astrid led Faith into the longer of two green tents set
in the middle of the courtyard. At least twenty sailors lay within, their faces
lined with pain.
Masked
figures moved with cool efficiency between the beds, caring for the hapless
patients. At the end of the long tent, a woman wielding a scalpel, stopped her
ministrations long enough to give Faith a questioning glance. A lock of red
hair peeking from her mask told Faith it was Meredith glaring at her.
“Put these
on.” Astrid handed her a mask and a pair of gloves. “Stay close, and watch what
I do. Soon, you’ll be on your own.”
Heavy rain
falling against the tent, made it hard to hear what Astrid had said, but Faith
caught the last few words: …on your own.
Without
the benefit of touch, the men’s suffering managed to seep into Faith’s skin,
leaving her pressed against a table loaded with unfamiliar instruments. “I do
not know if I can do this.”
“Will it.”
Astrid gripped Faith by her shoulders. “Sympathy will do them no good.”
The women
worked for hours, dosing patients, lancing their corrupted skin, injecting them
with God knows what. Faith finally strayed outside, recovering her wits under
the soothing cold rain. Just as she
caught her breath, men cried out from the second tent, striking her heart with
their joyless song.
Faith
pulled back the rain-soaked flap and entered. Four men were in the small tent
without the care of nurses. Three of the men lay comatose beneath damp sheets.
“You
shouldn’t be in here.” A young sailor strained to rise from his cot.
“Why have
you been separated from the others?”
“No hope
for us.”
Faith
grabbed a cloth and wiped the sailor’s sweaty face. She held onto his hand, but
he tried to pull away.
“See? They
come to check every hour.”
Faith
turned at sound of a wooden cart carelessly rolled in by two men.
“Faith?
You’re not supposed to be in here.” Billy came to her side, dripping rain and
mud. “‘Hey, Howard, get the guy on the end.”
“By myself?” Howard cringed near the opening.
“Billy,
what have we done?” Faith asked, thinking how clean the land was before they
arrived.
“Nothing!
This is Southlands plague.” Billy knelt beside her. “Am I sick? Are you? No. So
don’t go blaming us.”
“But-”
“He’s
dead, Billy.” Howard interrupted, prodding the still man with his elbow.
“I know that, Howard. Drag him over to the
cart, chicken.” Billy snorted with contempt. “Been putting up
with this crap all day.”
Faith
stared in disgust at Billy. If Astrid was right about sympathy doing the
patients no good, then Billy was full of healing power. The dead were no more
to this man than lifeless cargo. Dig. Load. Unload. Bury.
“Gotta go.
You should too, Faith.”
“No.”
“Listen to
him,” said the sailor.
“Come on,
Howard. No reasoning with her when she gets like this.”
***
After
Billy and Howard left, Faith held the ailing sailor’s hand well into the night
until he passed over with the remaining sailors. Then she fell to her knees,
reciting the Sisters’ prayer for the dead.
“That’s
very thoughtful.” Meredith entered, removing her mask and gloves. “But the next
time you come into my clinic, come as a physician.”
Faith
ceased her prayers, and ignoring Meredith’s offered hand, rose to her feet.
“Have you no compassion?”
Meredith
dropped into a nearby chair, and rubbed the tension from her aching neck. She
lowered her head, and fixed her eyes on the wooden planks thrown down for
flooring. In the morning, she would order it burned along with the grisly
tent. Along with everything else she’d
burned.
“The young
man’s name was Isaac…Isaac of the Porter family.” Meredith rose, delicately
stretching her tender back. In response to Faith’s startled look, she said, “To
record in your Rites Book.”
“I…I had
no need of one in
“I’ll see
that you get a book.”
Meredith
left the small tent, convinced more than ever that she’d lost a promising
physician.
***
“Let her
play in Astrid’s garden,” Meredith said, pouring Malcolm a cup of tea.
“Is this
your final decision regarding Faith?”
“Borders
are closed, passenger ships restricted-what else do you expect from me?”
“I brought
her here for you.”
Meredith
turned away from him, red splotches peppering her face. “She slipped Shackler’s
iron noose. What makes you think she wants to be here-even comprehend what
you’re-”
Malcolm
motioned for silence-the only person ever to do so in her presence and still
live comfortably in Greenford.
Meredith
paced the confines of her private salon like a caged tiger, ignoring Malcolm’s
sour demeanor. The man used his silences as some would a dagger; cutting,
tearing, stripping away at her carefully maintained fortress.
“How is
Wynona?” Meredith asked, thinking she should have known first-hand since the
child was her only remaining kin.
“Weak, but
she is well enough to be in her…mother’s care.”
“Mother’s care.” Meredith leaned against a window,
pressing her brow on the cold glass. “The inn is no place for the child. Bring
her to me, with or without Ivy.”
“If you insist.” Malcolm grew quiet, seeking solace in his cup of Listle tea.
Meredith’s
attention strayed outside, beyond the well-manicured grounds of Stuart Manor- a
patch of muddy earth where rain-splattered men continued the fevered work of
burying the dead. There would be no burning today, no safe and final cleansing
of Greenford under heavy rain.
***
In the
gray afternoon, Meredith read the Death Prayer in the town square. It seemed no
one, not even close relatives of the departed, cared to stray near the plague
pits. So, twelve Greenford flags were raised high over a hastily constructed
podium. One flag represented the Family Stuart’s loss, though Ivy and her
daughter were absent from the solemn ceremony.
In the
center of the square, Faith bowed her head, and sank to her knees, raising her
palms to the dark skies. This caused a stir among those standing nearby, for
Greenford were a practical people. The strange customs of foreigners could only
go so far with them and this display-at least to Meredith’s thinking-was
crossing the line. With a signal of two slightly raised fingers, six of
Meredith’s soldiers closed in on Faith’s position.
“We’ll
have some words now from the families: Widow Porter,” Meredith called. She
relinquished her position to the widow, accepting Malcolm’s arm as she left the
podium.
“I lost my
beloved Gerard during Ankesh year,” began the Widow Porter, referring to a
horrid influenza that swept down out of neighboring Ankesh, killing nearly a
quarter of Greenford’s town folk.
The murmur
from the crowd surrounding Faith grew louder, and Billy, seeing the nasty turn,
threw down his shovel and pushed his way toward his friend.
“Now, my
Isaac…” Widow Porter paused, her face red with rage, “Who brought the Darkness here…who?”
“It’s
them…damn outsiders!” A furious man lobbed a handful of rotten fruit at Faith,
staining her white robe purple.
One of
Meredith’s soldiers subdued the man, brining him down to the cobbled ground
before Billy could jump in.
“Quiet!”
Meredith ordered the man released. “Did you,” she asked him, “did any of you sit with Isaac Porter? Hold
his hand, bathe him before he died?” Her eyes found the Widow Porter, who
shrank back from the dais. “Ask yourselves, who came to bury Isaac Porter?”
Meredith
helped Faith rise to her feet. The young Sister looked surprisingly calm under
the crowd’s burning eyes. “Thank you,” she refrained from holding her palm out,
and took Meredith’s hand in the Greenford greeting as Malcolm had taught her.
Meredith
was speechless, the strain from the past few days threatening to overtake her
calm reserve.
“Let’s not
forget why we’re here,” Malcolm addressed the crowd, before leading Meredith
away.
Gasps rose
from the crowd, and Meredith turned, ready for the new source of opposition.
Billy Hager, who Meredith considered little more than a wart on a bunion,
ascended the podium with muddy clothes.
“I sailed
with your kinfolk,” he said, staring out at shamed faces.
“Get him
down from there,” Meredith hissed to Malcolm.
“Let him
continue. A few berries won’t spoil the mud on his clothes,” Malcolm replied.
Yet, all
was calm: Billy could work a crowd better than working a shovel. They nodded,
as he praised their fallen sailors and whispered thanks when he spoke of
Greenford kindness, even laughed when he shared a few off-colored stories.
Faith
headed toward the podium, and to Meredith’s consternation, was greeted by many
upraised palms.
“I’ll take
my leave now,” Meredith informed Malcolm.
She strode
through the parting crowd with Faith’s eulogy of Edward ringing in her ears.
***
Malcolm,
as ordered, had consigned Faith to work in Astrid’s “garden”, which consisted
of the whole of
Astrid was
an exacting taskmaster, but Faith came to prefer her company to that of the
inhospitable Lady Stuart. She decided to stay on with the healer. In Astrid’s warm cottage, they took their
meals together, discussed the healer’s many travels and read from the Sister’s
prayer book. Even Billy was welcomed as long as he took his leave before
nightfall.
“How long
will she have me wandering in the woods?” Faith asked Billy, who was busy
hanging over the garden fence pilfering tomatoes.
“Why are
you complaining? Malcolm’s got me up to my knees in grave dirt to keep me off
his precious boats, and they got you picking berries to keep you out of-”
“To learn,” Astrid said, standing just
outside her cottage door. She smirked at the young Sister, whose eyes and ears
were trained on a rocky hillside. “Never
knew Meredith to care for that trail before.”
“What?” Faith
turned, startled to find Astrid by her side.
“I said
your herb book is coming along nicely-analysis far better than my own.”
“You have
a book?” This irritated Faith. The healer had her tangled in vines, and
tripping over roots everyday to gather knowledge she already possessed. “Why?”
Faith held out her scratched hands, but her attention drifted back to the lone
rider on the hillside.
“Who’s
that coming?” Billy slunk off the fence with the grace of a bull moose.
Astrid’s threats didn’t scare him, even when she caught him stealing from her
garden, nor did Malcolm’s ease with a strap, but one raised eyebrow from
Meredith set him quaking in his dusty boots. “Darn. What does she want?”
“What
indeed.” Astrid waved at Meredith, who had descended the hillside and headed in
their direction. “Now there was a hard headed student if ever there was. She
was more interested in playing in dead bodies, than creeping through the
forest.”
“Autopsies?” Faith looked askance at this bit
of information. “But…it is forbidden.”
“Tell that
to sailors she saved.” Astrid said, promptly taking her leave of the young
pair.
Faith
blushed, chastened by Astrid’s words and the sight of Greenford’s savior
astride the imperious Algernon. She stood her ground, but Billy went out to
greet them, and Algernon snorted warm breath on his hands.
“I
wouldn’t rub his nose if I were you,” Meredith alit from the ebony beast,
“unless you have an apple. Get on,” she said, completely ignoring Faith’s
presence.
“Why?”
Billy took a step back.
“Are you
questioning me?”
Algernon
snorted again, interrupting their little standoff. He butted his head against
Billy’s chest. Ride me if you dare,
his eyes seem to tell him. And Billy, not one to pass up a challenge, made his
way onto the haughty steed’s saddle and held on for dear life.
“What
about you?” He stared down Meredith, who grinned and handed him the reins. Then
she whispered in Algernon’s ear.
Faith’s
stomach clenched, and before she could warn Billy, Algernon reared up, then
tore off across the pasture, heading at top speed for the dark forest.
“Where is
Algernon taking him?” Faith asked, cheeks warming from the absurdity of the
question.
“To work.
And this brings me to the question of what you’re doing with your days.”
Faith held
out her chafed hands. “Does this answer your question?”
“It does,
if you’re washing dishes in the lake.” Meredith opened the cottage gate, moving
slowly onto Astrid’s cobbled path. “I want you to stay away from the burial
ground. Understand? I have enough trouble containing the site without you
holding vigil for the dead.”
“People
need closure.”
“Then let
them do it in the town square.” Meredith walked past her and opened Astrid’s
door. “And Faith, don’t ever again tell me what my people need,” she said
before entering.
Faith
reached into the pocket of her grass-stained smock and withdrew her prayer
book. Soulless witch.
In her present state of agitation, she headed for the burial grounds. She felt
it in her bones, as deeply as the cut of Meredith’s tongue, that death meant
more than a gravedigger’s sweat and a handful of dirt.
***
During the
third week of Faith’s self-imposed exile, a curious thing happened: small
groups of town folks made their way from Greenford proper down to the
mysterious cottage that lay on the edge of the forest.
Laborers,
shopkeepers and merchants alike sat on smooth stones by Astrid’s small lake
with supper wrapped in rough bags or ornate containers, depending on their
station in life. Curious indeed, for these groups never bothered to socialize
with each other in good times, let alone during times of martial law.
What
brought these hardy souls together were a fevered present, and a cloudy future:
Ships had stopped running, mountain passes were guarded, and the town gates
were closed. Most of the town folk had opted for a personal lockdown, remaining
shuttered within their homes. The bold few, sought comfort in Billy’s wild
tales and Faith’s prayer for the spirit.
Today, the
bold ones waited for an hour near the witch’s cottage for a glimpse of the
young Sister. “Here she comes,” one of the laborers stood, waving his hat to
draw Faith over.
“Mind your
manners,” said an indignant merchant. “She’s under the Lady’s protection. Do
you want Malcolm on your back for calling on her like she’s a common barmaid?”
“What
wrong with that?” asked a young girl. “I’ll spit in your beer next time you
take a mind to call on me.”
“I hear
tell the Lady’s cast her out.” Ivy Stuart passed amid grumbles and stares,
knowing full well half this lot agreed with her. “And what of us-how many of us
will the Great Lady lock away while
our loved ones die?”
Faith
approached the unruly crowd, and taking her seat on the center stone, waited
for them to quiet down. Then she led them in Morning Prayer, read carefully
from the book of the dead, and steadfastly stayed away from Ivy’s questions
about Meredith.
Angered,
Ivy sought to make an enemy out of the very one who refused to be an ally,
“Meredith has taken my child into her home, and leaves me alone with grief!
What good does praying do…sitting in a forest like meek lambs?”
Faith
caught that angry woman’s eye, and motioned for her to share the center stone.
She paused again, waiting for the grumbling to die. How could she comfort this
woman? It was easy enough to calm the spirit of many, give them words of
prayer, but to touch a single heart was beyond her capabilities.
The crowd
was hers. So she rose, confident in turning their misplaced wrath from Meredith
Stuart.
“Prayer
has its place…in our hearts, in our treatment of each other. And by the Book,
the spirits of our ancestors, we should come not as lambs, but lions willing to
strike that which would destroy us.” This passage from the Sisters’ Prayer-a
part of the book which Faith usually ignored-seemed to hit its mark with the
crowd, cheering them to their feet.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” said
Ivy, but her body folded in on itself, collapsing in frustration on the center
stone when Faith shook her head.
“Who will
gather the needed plants for Meredith’s serum?” Faith stared at the blank faces
then corrected her wording, “her potions?”
Three
stepped forward, eagerly awaiting her instructions.
“And who
will help the diggers-feed them, and care for their land?” And so on went the
list of duties until none but her and Ivy were left standing in the quiet
pasture.
“And what
should I do?” asked Ivy, now meek as the lambs she’d detested.
Faith
thought of a chore that would make her own blood boil if called upon to do,
“Make peace with you husband’s sister.”
“There’ll
be a rolling thunderstorm in hell before-”
“Ivy!”
Astrid bore down on them with a heat worthy of the noonday sun. “Get on with
ya. Cooking needs doing at the inn.” Astrid placed her hands on her hips-a
gesture Faith had seen Meredith doing a lot these days. “Honestly,” she said to
Faith while burning a hole in Ivy’s retreating back, “you’d think old gripes
would melt away in fever times.”
“Fever
times? This is plague, Sister
Astrid.”
“Never use
that word around folks, and don’t go calling me Sister. Meredith’s already tied in a knot over your doings.”
Faith let
out a weary sigh. Astrid knew more about the Book than she did! The woman even wore a silver bracelet tucked
under her sleeve. “Why did you not start a group here?”
“Some
things are better left alone.”
“Was it
because of Meredith?” Of course it was Meredith, a woman she knew in own her
heart if not by touch, to hold anything of the spirit with grave contempt.
“You mean
the ogress you stood up for today? Chased down that demon Ivy like a sword from
the Heavens, didn’t you?”
“I have
given Meredith no cause for offense,” Faith said stubbornly. “It is she who
offends me.”
“What
shall I do with my two girls?” Astrid laughed and prodded her gently, leading
them both away to noontime supper.
***
“Good to
see you down for supper, Meredith.” Billy wiped his mouth, but couldn’t summon
enough manners to pull out Meredith’s chair. He left the chore for Malcolm.
“Enjoy
your ride?” Meredith smirked, and waved away the servant hulking over her
shoulder. “Coffee is fine, thank you.”
“She’ll
have a serving of lamb and potatoes like the rest of us.” Malcolm wagged a
finger and the flustered servant hurried off to the kitchen.
Meredith
took in her supper companions with a jaundiced eye. Over the course of two
weeks, it seemed the men had developed a rapport with one another to the point
where it drove her and Wynona to distraction. Cajoling, threatening and,
finally begging them both to eat a decent meal.
“Hey lammy
bear,” Billy said, as Wynona entered, “Cat got your tongue?”
“She will
speak when she has something to say.” Meredith patted the chair next to her for
Wynona to be seated.
Wynona
nodded at the men, and curtsied to her aunt, then pointedly took the chair next
to Billy. True to her nature, she didn’t say a word, but slapped Billy’s hand
in mock outrage.
Billy
laughed. “Just for that you get gruel for supper.”
Meredith
watched as Billy engaged Wynona with ridiculous animal sounds, and something
deep within wormed its way to her mouth, ruining the taste of her coffee. No
matter how hard she tried, the girl had never warmed to her. Perhaps it was due
to Ivy’s animosity. And Ivy is the only mother the girl has known. No winning there.
Meredith
regarded the child, who now practically sat in Billy’s lap, listening to his
prattle in earnest delight. As the servant arrived, she slipped from her dark
thoughts and directed him to set her plate before Wynona. “I’ll have the broth,
William.”
“Hey,
that’s my name too, but you,” he gently tapped the tip of Wynona’s nose with
his spoon, “can call me Billy.”
“Or make
the sign of the goat,” said Malcolm.
The
gesture brought a toothy Stuart smile to the girl’s lips, and somewhere in the
back of Meredith’s brain a wire snapped, hurling her into a thunderous
headache. She changed the topic, sternly addressing Billy, “What have you done
with my horse?”
“Algie?”
“Al-ger-non.”
“I left
him on the green,” this said with a mouth full of peas, Billy continued. “Get
some exercise, ya know.”
“And eat
every apple he can sink his teeth into.” She gave the doorway a two fingered
point, halting his next spoonful of peas.
“Now?”
Billy backed away from the table, or maybe it was the rise of her eyebrow that
moved his stiff limbs. “Not now.”
Malcolm
laughed, and they turned to Wynona, who performed a perfect imitation of her
aunt, raised eyebrow and all.
“Thank
you, darling,” Meredith said.
“Yeah, sure.” Billy grabbed two sweet rolls before leaving.
“I was
addressing my niece.” Meredith said to the now empty hallway.
For a
moment, she could have sworn that a hint of a smile played on the girl’s face
just for her. The ten year old stared with a blank expression at her aunt, and
rose from the table. Then she dragged her chair closer to Meredith’s.
“Ah. The Stuart protectiveness.” Malcolm raised his cup.
Meredith
felt her chest grow warm with the unexpected move. “Now if I can only get her
to work on our other wayward guest.”
***
Billy
found Faith kneeling by the lake, and sat beside her after tethering Algernon
to a tree. “Want some bread?”
“Did you
steal it as well as the horse?”
“Technically no.” He gave her one of the sweet rolls swiped from Meredith’s
table. “What’re you doing here…praying for rain?”
Faith
turned to his smiling face and felt ashamed for all the times she’d called him
market rat. He honestly had no concept of manners, and they were very much
alike in that way.
“Well,
gonna tell me or not?” he asked.
“Today, I
advised someone to address a wrong. A wrong I too have committed.”
“Say
you’re sorry and get it over with,” Billy responded, though more interested in
the touch of cinnamon on his roll.
Faith
suddenly knew why she liked this creature; he stole, he weaseled his way out of
trouble and swore like a prizefighter, but he never lied. She didn’t either,
but this rare virtue took hold of her like a weed spreading in the garden.
She’d accused Meredith of having no compassion, but what compassion had she
shown the woman? What offer of solace? None.
“I said, get it over with.” Billy was impatient
now. “Let me teach you how to ride. Come on, Algernon’s going to waste out here
since Meredith hardly rides him.”
“Oh?”
Faith went over to Algernon and ran her fingers through his beautiful mane. The
horse was dispirited, but feisty enough to back away from her touch.
“See, he’s
mad,” Billy continued. “Malcolm told me that Meredith gets up in the morning
and walks to the clinic, comes back for coffee and a roll. Then she’s off again
to somewhere-comes back home around
The
thought of Malcolm conferring with Billy instead of her, stabbed at Faith’s
pride. Am I that unfeeling toward
Meredith? The attack of conscience
unsettled her. “What is she doing so late at night?”
“Didn’t ask. I’m just happy to have this big boy to ride.”
“But he
hates you.”
Billy
smiled, his teeth sparkling like pearls. “Want to ride or not?”
“Yes, but
only to the mansion. I have to deliver this bag of herbs.”
“Trust me:
she doesn’t need it right away.”
Faith
stroked Algernon’s hair, soaking up a bit of his sadness. He’s lonely for her. “We are going to return Algernon to the
stable, feed him, and brush him.”
“When you
say ‘we’, you mean me.
“Exactly,”
Faith said, sensing Algernon’s spirits rise as sure as Billy’s fell. “Hurry up,
Billy.”
“You’re
like the little sister I never wanted.” Billy helped Faith into the saddle then
hopped up behind her. “Now there’s a special way to handle a spoiled monster.”
He patted Algernon’s rump. “Dig your heels in when he gets snotty, and never
let your guard down.”
“I am well
experienced in that area.”
Algernon
snorted, drawing a rare laugh from Faith. She flicked the horse’s reins, and
they headed toward the mansion.
***
Approximately
two yards from the
Malcolm
looped a heavy chain around the door handle then secured it to a padlock wedged
in stone. “Is there any way I can talk you out of this?”
Meredith
put an arm around him. “Yes, but the scientist in me says no.”
“I thought
as much. May I be with you?”
“An
experiment such as this is too dangerous, old friend. Besides, I need you and
Astrid at the clinic.”
“Then have
Faith assist you.”
Meredith
cupped Malcolm’s chin. Sadness and an unexpected fear lay like ghosts in his
kind brown eyes. She’d give anything to
ease his worry, but enlisting Faith was out of the question. The young woman
was untrained and hell bent on prayer. And prayer would do her no good.
She gazed
up at the Heavens, cursing the clear night. The rain had ceased days ago,
giving way to blue skies and raging heat in Greenford. The skies didn’t bother
her, but the heat did. Heat gave sordid license to disease-ridden vermin.
“My men
and I eradicated most of the vermin, thanks to your help,” he said.
“It’s a
good thing there’s some left.” Meredith looked at the door to her lab, and
sighed. The virus had mutated and became airborne. She sighed again. “How is
Faith coming along with Astrid?”
“She is an
apt student.”
“Good. Now
if we can keep her out off that darn prayer stone- I know I shouldn’t do this,”
she said, heading off his retort. “But she needs focus, discipline.”
“She is
disciplined. Her path is not so different from yours, or should I say what it
used to be.”
“You
believe I’m too hard on her.”
“Is that a
question?”
Meredith
laughed. “If it were, you wouldn’t answer it.”
A hunger pang hit her belly, and she grabbed hold of Malcolm’s arm, “Why
don’t you and I take the path home and drink some of that wonderful coffee of
yours?”
“I will
gladly join you, if you promise to eat a decent meal.”
“I’ll face
my sentence like a good inmate.”
***
Faith saw
Howard lurking about in the library of the Stuart mansion. “Have you seen
Meredith?”
“How long
have you been here?” he asked, immediately replacing the book he’d borrowed.
“She has
so many books,” Faith said, noting that most would not be allowed past the
borders of
“You
should leave before-”
“Meredith
comes?” Meredith entered, moving enough to allow Howard to scurry out of the
room. “You wanted to see me, or is it scandalous reading material you seek?”
“You.” Alarmed by Meredith’s wan
complexion, Faith laid her bundle of herbs aside and pulled out a chair for the
exhausted woman. “There are things I must confess.”
“You chose
the wrong woman. I don’t take confessions.” Meredith leaned on her elbows, propping
her chin in her hands. “And I already know about the prayer sessions, eulogies
and so forth. You may continue to do so, but don’t bring anyone with you to the
gravesite. Fight me on this, and I’ll have you and your followers locked up.”
“Billy is
still on duty at the cemetery. I will instruct him to prepare the…bodies and
say the eulogies.”
“Billy?
And what will you do?”
“There are
others who can do my work.”
“Ah. So,
you’ve enlisted a few spiritual lieutenants.”
Meredith got out of her chair and removed a small case from one of the
bookshelves. “What do you want, Faith?”
“Everyday,
you leave the clinic early. Whatever you are doing, I want to assist you.”
Faith pulled her chair closer and peered at the medical supplies in the now
opened case. She watched Meredith fill a hypodermic with blue liquid.
Meredith
grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and sunk the needle past its red skin.
“Now you try it.” She rolled up her sleeve. “Take the astringent and apply some
to a swab. Then clean the inside of my elbow.”
“What is
in this?” Faith said, following instructions. Meredith’s skin was damp and
cool, but she sensed nothing from the touch. It was as if Meredith had wrapped
a wall of steel around her body.
“Prepare the
needle.” Meredith paused, watching Faith’s hands for the slightest tremor.
“Good. Find a vein.” She held Faith’s wrist. “Easy. Go slowly.”
Faith held
the needle steady, and pumped the blue liquid into Meredith’s arm. For a
moment, she felt a spark of pain. Meredith’s pain. It
stopped abruptly then the steel wall rose, shutting her out again.
“What did
I give you?”
“A light sedative.”
Meredith’s
head drooped, and Faith thought for a moment that she would slip from her
chair. She held onto Meredith’s arm until the other woman pulled away. There is nothing “light’ about this
sedative.
“You…can
go to the…clinic tomorrow,” Meredith said, her voice drowsy and low. This time,
her head gently touched the table. “Now get out so I can sleep.”
Faith
ignored the order and waited for Meredith’s breathing to slow down. Then she
lifted the small woman in her arms and carried her to her quarters.
“Edward…no. You can’t leave.” Meredith was barely conscious, her head rolling back
on the pillow. “No.”
Faith
froze at the mournful plea. The unbidden emotion poured like cold water from
Meredith’s damp skin, frightening Faith in its wake. Careful not to touch her
any further, she removed Meredith’s boots. Then she quietly left the room.
Faith
nearly stumbled over Billy, who was asleep in the hallway. He’d drawn up his
knees, using them for a pillow.
“Hey!” He
rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and gave Faith a lazy grin. “You
two friends now? Talk about getting blood from a stone.”
“I wonder
how much you really see with your eyes, Billy.” Too weary to bicker, she
dropped down beside him and pressed her back against the wall. “Do something
for me.”
“You’re
not what I’d call a cursing girl, but I’ll get lost if you want.” He yawned,
clearly showing he had no intention of going anywhere.
“Follow
Meredith tomorrow. Let me know where she goes.”
“What do
you think she’s up to?”
“If I knew
that, I would not need you to follow her.”
“Tracking
tigers would be easier.” Billy sat up now, annoyed to be given such a dangerous
task. “Why didn’t ya just say, sorry and
make up?”
“I am not
the one troubling her.”
Faith left
Billy in the hallway to ponder her words. She said a prayer for Meredith before
going to bed. And she said another prayer for misunderstanding the woman’s
pain.
***
Billy’s
undercover work proved fruitless. For two days, Meredith managed to slip past
him with Algernon’s help; the horse led him to sand traps, tangled him in
low-hanging branches, and pitched him into the lake.
“I will do
it myself,” Faith said, “and without Algernon’s help.”
She woke
hours before Meredith, corking her pale skin and wrapping her body in a dark
green robe. By
Faith
brought a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the noonday sun. She
looked up and down the deserted pier, and caught sight of Meredith standing
near the Stuart, waving a green cloth
in the air.
“My cloak!” Faith raised the hem of her torn robe. She grabbed the end of the
little flag, and pulled it from
Meredith’s hands.
“The hunter
becomes the hunted.” Meredith’s eyes sparkled with danger belying her lopsided
grin. “Come aboard, bounty hunter. I may even let you wash that dirty face of
yours.”
“What are
you doing out here?”
“I don’t
work on the Sabbath. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be painting your flock’s
heads with oil, bathing their feet….”
“When I
can bathe you in the sea?”
“Now,
now,” Meredith wag a finger. “That’s called mutiny.” She boarded a small boat
docked near the Stuart. “If we row out into deeper water, they’ll
never find the body.”
Whose body? Faith wondered, but she followed Meredith onto
the vessel.
Meredith’s
hair blazed under the sun as they headed out to sea. The play of muscles under
her skin and the tanned complexion were those of healthy woman, not the ghostly
image Faith had put to bed a few days ago. Faith threw out the anchor then
crossed to Meredith, taking hold of her arm. “More
sedatives?”
“Are you
crazy? Never drop anchor when a boat’s moving!” Meredith said, cutting the
engine.
Then Faith
realized that they had moved under the same power their ancestors were famous
for-had ultimately killed for. Greenford was another
“You think
we’re wicked, don’t you?” Meredith asked.
“Can you
read thoughts?”
Meredith
laughed. “No, that’s your…talent.”
Faith
shook her head. Who could possibly understand what she felt when she found it
so perplexing? This gift, this curse. “I-I feel
things. I wish I did not. ”
Meredith
pulled her arm from Faith grasp, and settled on a wood bench. “Sometimes it’s
better not to,” she said softly.
Words
failing her, Faith sat beside Meredith and looked out on the rolling waves. She
removed her gloves and held Meredith’s hands, surprised by the other woman
allowing the touch. Calm settled over her, softer than the winds chasing blue
waves. A calm that settled her mind.
Meredith
turned to her. “If I teach you how to beat back this fever, it would mean going
against everything the Sisters taught you,” she said. “Still want to assist
me?”
“Yes. Will
you send me back to
“What do
you feel?”
Faith
blushed. “You are mocking me.”
“I’m
playing with you.”
Playing. Faith wasn’t used to this kind if
devilment, not from Meredith, anyway. “I do not think I will drown you after
all, but I will assist you. And before I leave Greenford, you will build a
temple and beg me to stay.”
Faith put
her gloves back on, feeling a bit triumphant at the disbelieving frown she’d
brought to Meredith’s face. However, she made sure to stay away from the edge
of the boat.
***
If
Meredith felt uncomfortable about Faith’s gift of touch she gave no indication
while they worked together in the Mansion cellar. She’d grown accustomed to the
companionable silence, using little more than a touch or glance to guide her
new assistant.
The only
fault Meredith found with Faith’s performance was her curious habit of laying a
cloth over the face of her autopsy subjects. Otherwise, her analysis of their
demise was excellent.
“We must
honor the dead for what they teach us,” Faith said, after sewing up her latest
subject.
Meredith
regarded her quietly before handing her a vial of oil to anoint the dead man.
She was slowing slipping back into the ways of the Sisters and found it
comforting rather than annoying. Faith made it easy. Easy for Meredith to come
to terms with what she would have to do in the coming days to fight the plague
in Greenford.
They
wrapped the body, leaving it for Billy to bury. Then they entered Meredith’s
private bath where they checked each other for signs of the disease- a ritual
she’d never undertaken with other assistants. She recalled the scores of women
she’d taught over the years. Women who had never lost the squeamishness of
young girls: afraid to display their body under the gaze of an elder. Faith had
no such modesty, no concept of the beauty others saw in her.
“You may
bathe now.” Meredith sat on the tub’s edge, contented to remain by Faith’s
side.
Meredith
pressed Faith’s shoulder, leaning her forward. And she convinced herself that
her gaze was that of a physician’s, her hands those of a mentor gently soaping
Faith’s back-a comfortable, quiet affection between teacher and student.
“Should I
fall ill,” Faith said, startling Meredith with her soft voice, “I want you to
recite the Sisters’ Prayer.”
The spell
of contentment was broken. Meredith removed her hands, and took refuge by the
window. The sun’s rays played against the frosted glass, lighting the room with
a soft yellow glow. But the stench of plague lay outside this small room, and
most of Greenford denied its existence, preferring to carry on their lives in
blissful ignorance. Faith brought it home, dissecting it like a corpse, neither
bargaining its injustice or railing at its power.
“I’ll
unlock the secret of this damned disease, Faith. No one will fall sick again.”
“How do
you propose to do such a thing?” Faith
played in the sudsy water, sluicing it over her skin with a sponge.
“You have
so many questions.”
“And you
leave them all unanswered.” Faith moved to the end of the tub. “Join me before
the water cools.”
“No. I’d
rather watch you.”
Yet
Meredith drew near, shrugging off the gray mantle of Greenford plague.
***
The next
morning, Faith paid her first of many visits to the homes of the townsfolk. She
persuaded the ill to go with Meredith’s guards to the clinic, and taught others
precautions to remain healthy. Rather than scaring them, the citizens of Greenford
responded to her no-nonsense approach and soon found the courage to turn
themselves over to the authorities at the first sign of fever.
“I want to
attend the next house with you.” Ivy appeared, blocking Faith’s path on the
main road. Her hair was wild, her clothes unkempt. Sleep hadn’t touched her
face in days.
“That
would not be advisable.” Faith attempted to move past the woman.
“I know as
much as you do- maybe more, little
assistant.” Ivy spat on the cobble stones. “How long do you think she will
keep you? She’ll cast you aside like all the rest when she becomes bored or you
die from the damn plague.”
Faith
almost lost her bearing when Ivy fell to her knees and grabbed the hem of her
robe. The woman’s eyes betrayed a fever no medicine could cure.
“But she
didn’t get rid of me.” Ivy used
Faith’s robe for leverage, winding her way up from the ground like a vine. Then
she trapped Faith in her arms. “Do you know what the milk of human kindness is,
Faith? It’ll jump out and cut you both ways. I-”
“Ivy!”
Malcolm approached with two guards. “Take her to the inn.”
“Burn my
Edward…my Edward.” Ivy struggled,
forcing the guards to drag her away. “I’ll show you fire….”
“From
Meredith-she said you forgot them.” Malcolm handed Faith her gloves. “Are you
all right?”
Faith
quickly put them on; she’d had enough of Ivy’s touch. “It is not my safety I fear for.”
“Don’t
listen to Ivy. Her head is cracked from grief, so she tends to spread unseemly
rumors. Unfortunately she’s not the only one.”
“And
threats,” Faith added. “Please put a guard on Meredith.”
“She won’t
allow that.” Malcolm held out his arm
and accompanied Faith to the next cottage. “Don’t worry about Meredith. She
knows as well as I that fever times makes some people act rashly.”
“That is
no excuse for what Ivy said.” Faith held Malcolm’s gaze. “Was she one of
Meredith’s assistants?”
“Faith,
trust me, you wouldn’t understand.”
“I believe
I do.”
“I-I’ll
see about that guard.”
Malcolm
met her eyes briefly before taking his leave. And in that one glance, Faith
felt his disapproval. She opened the cottage gate, turning to find curious eyes
peering at her from the windows. Then she steeled herself, vowing that once the
fever passed, she would take on the contagion of ignorance brewing in
Greenford.
***
Faith had
completed her first round of house-to-house calls around
“How did
your day go?” Meredith asked, carefully locking away a vial of serum.
“So far,
only four people show signs of contagion. They went peacefully to the clinic.”
“That’s
four too many. We have to work faster.” Meredith sighed, and leaned against the
table.
Faith
moved behind Meredith and peered over her shoulder. “Is it ready for testing?
If it is, I can send Billy and Howard to capture a rodent.”
“Rodent?
Ah, yes, we must find a rodent.”
“You are
lying to me.”
“I am not.
Care to touch me and find out?”
“I touched
Ivy today, or rather she touched me
“Did she
hurt you? Because if she did…”
“I think
she meant to warn me.”
“I see.”
Faith
slipped her arms around Meredith, and they both grew quiet. It wasn’t the
companionable quiet of the bathhouse, or the silent pleasure of their work.
This quiet took a strange and solemn turn, unpleasant for them both.
Finally,
Faith blurted out what Ivy had told her, instantly regretting the effect it had
on Meredith.
“Milk of human kindness. She would
say something like that.”
“What did
she mean?” Faith asked.
“She was
referring to Wynona.” Meredith paused for a moment then continued in a pained
voice, “Ivy is too unstable to care for my…to care for a child right now.”
“She knows
that Wynona is safe with you.”
“But she
doesn’t believe that you are.”
They
lapsed into silence once again, each retreating into their own thoughts until
Meredith touched her hand to Faith’s cheek. “As for Ivy’s warning; I would
never do anything to dishonor you...to take you away from your beliefs.”
“That
saddens me.”
“What?” Meredith let her hand drop.
“Your use of the word dishonor. I do not find dishonor inside you,
Meredith-distrust perhaps…”
Meredith
did not respond. She moved to the autopsy table and laid a towel over the face
of a young man. “This one died from pneumonic plague,” she said, donning a mask
and gown. “Suit up and we’ll begin.”
***
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