THREE SISTERS Chapter 7
For many months, I thought myself happy. Maybe it was simply that I was busy: building new houses, stockpiling wood for the winter, laying in food - all this while studying the defences of Prospal Hill, as I tried to ascertain if it was as well hidden as most of its inhabitants believed it to be.
But as winter came on, I discovered that I had grown moody, and irritable. Guenna looked at me, mystified, and slightly hurt, when I scolded her for no good reason. Sulcen said nothing, but she avoided eye contact even more than usual.
It wasn't her fault, either - though she
was
the cause.
After several months, I still hadn't achieved a breakthrough with my wife. She lay with me, whenever I wished it - which was quite frequently. I admit that. She would listen, attentively, if I told her a story, or described anything in great detail. But her answers to my innocent queries were evasive, or limited to a single word.
I stayed well away from any mention of her first husband, or the life that she had led, back then. Nor did I ask her about what had happened between them, that drove her to kill him. Yet I wondered if I was unknowingly reminded her of what she'd been through.
Still, she avoided looking at me, and rarely initiated a conversation, unless it was about some trivial matter, which was quickly resolved. I was growing angry. It wasn't her fault, but more and more I suspected that she was unhappy.
I knew that I had a problem when I snapped at Hedyn while he was helping me build a table for our house.
The big man didn't respond. He simply laid down his tools, and stood up.
- "We'll finish this tomorrow." he said.
That was when I realized that I was losing my self-control.
- "You're an idiot." said Guen Nadesti, when I told her about it.
- "That's helpful." I said.
- "For a reasonably bright man, you're remarkably stupid, Veran."
- "Oh?"
- "You're punishing yourself." said Mother Nadesti.
- "Am I, now?" I said, with a touch of sarcasm.
- "You blame yourself for Meonwe's death. And for your son's." she said.
I opened my mouth to answer, before realizing that I had nothing to say. She was right.
"It's not
all
your fault." she said. "Lanko was reckless, and a fool. Dengel was stubborn. And if you should have seen into Bacho's heart a long time ago ... well, I didn't see it, either."
"And you had
nothing
to do with what happened to Sulcen."
I nodded. I knew that.
- "It wasn't your fault, Veran." said my wife's mother.
- "But ... I can't reach her, Guen." There it was. I admitted my failure - one more thing to feel guilty about.
- "You already have." she said, softly. "She agreed to marry you. Unless I'm completely mistaken, you've been sleeping together - quite regularly. And she hasn't killed you yet."
- "That's not funny."
- "It wasn't meant to be. Veran - you think you know what's she's been through.
You don't
. Whatever it was, she can't even speak of it. Don't wear yourself out trying to guess."
"Be kind to her. Be patient. You've already made more progress with her than I have. In less time, as well. Just be patient."
My girls were wonderful with Sulcen. Yevna brought her small game, and helped to prepare it. Guenna kept Sulcen company, and hovered nearby, ready to help with any task. Tanguiste put into practice all of the lessons she had learned in Moruith's house. My daughters were almost
too
helpful.
It was Tanguiste who saw it first.
- "We have to give her more space." she said. "There doesn't have to be someone with her at every moment. She probably
wants
to be alone from time to time."
- "I don't want her to be lonely." said Guenna.
- "That's
your
greatest fear. Sulcen may not see it that way." said Tanguiste.
So I asked my wife.
- "Are the girls bothering you too much? Would you prefer to be left alone, sometimes?"
Sulcen thought carefully before she answered.
- "I do enjoy quiet ... and solitude. But your daughters are very kind. I wouldn't want them to think me ... ungrateful."
I repeated what she had said, word for word. The girls weren't put out at all. From then on, Guenna limited herself to one - or two - questions a day. And all of three of them got into the habit of hugging Sulcen before they went out - and then leaving her alone, in peace, for longer stretches of time.
That wasn't the only help they gave me. Tanguiste had advice to offer.
- "Tell her what happened to us, Papa. Tell her about Mother, and Iarn. Explain it to her. Your eye, and Yevna's teeth. She deserves to know, don't you think?"
I had been resisting the urge to tell that tale. Somehow, I feared that Sulcen might take it as an attempt on my part to earn her favour. 'See', I would be saying, 'we've suffered, too. We're the same as you.'
But I knew, now, that nothing could be further from the truth. My girls and I had shared our night of horror. We had each other to lean on, to share our pain. And our horrific experience had lasted for a single night, before we exacted a measure of revenge and made our escape.
Sulcen had suffered alone - for years.
She'd had no one to turn to, no one to confide in. And when she finally found the courage to defend herself - her husband's community turned her out. They knew what he'd done, and that she was the victim, but they sent her back to her mother anyway.
That didn't mean, though, that I should keep our experience from her. She could make of it whatever she would. Tanguiste was probably right, too, to suggest that she would never tell me her story first.
The three girls went to spend an evening with Moruith and Inisian, leaving me alone with my bride. Sulcen understood that I was up to something.
- "I want to tell you a story." I said. "At first ... I was afraid to bring it up. It's not a secret, exactly. There are others who know - including your mother. But I want you to hear the true version. I want you to understand my daughters, and to know how Yevna lost her teeth."
Sulcen nodded, and sat down.
I told her everything, from the theft of Eguen's sheep, to our flight from Moruith's house. I didn't spare her - or myself - a single detail. It wasn't easy to speak of Meonwe - of how much I loved her - to my new wife.
It was ... an incredible experience -
for me
. Somehow, I think that Tanguiste knew that it would be.
There
was a humbling moment: my adolescent daughter was wiser than I was.
My wife listened to my lengthy tale without a word. When I finally fell silent, she let me sit quietly for a time. Then she stood, and came around to stand beside me. She slowly wrapped her arms around me, and cradled my head against the swell of her breasts.
My arms went around her waist, and I closed my eyes. Later, she helped me stand, and led me to our bed, where she held me tight, long into the night.
***
It was a week later, if I remember correctly, that Sulcen spoke to me -
before
I had said anything myself.
- "When did you first think of me as something other than a character from a bylina
[1]
?" she said.
I was stunned. I wanted to ask her to repeat what she'd said - but I heard her clearly - every word.
"When you first met me, did you see me as an object of curiosity - or pity?" she added.
- "Neither." I said. "I remember the first time I saw you, sitting next to your mother. Believe me - I was shocked to see Guen Nadesti. After all that had passed between our families ..."
"But I was distracted by ... you. I had no idea who you were. I readily admit that I hadn't seen many attractive females for quite a few years. Still, I asked myself: 'Who is that lovely woman'?"
- "Is that so?" said Sulcen, with a little roll of her eyes.
- "I didn't find out who you were until Hedyn told me, later."
She may have had trouble believing me, but I suspect that she liked my answer.
***
My girls continued to grow, and to change, on Prospal Hill. As I hoped, they made friends, and became part of a community again.
Yevna changed the least. She remained an avid forester, roaming the woods, hunting and scouting. In those skills, she had surpassed Inisian, by his own admission. She frequently left the hill altogether, which made me very nervous.
- "I worry about you, when you do that." I told her.
- "I'm sorry, Papa." she said.
- "What would you do if I forbade you to leave the hill?" I asked.
- "I would feel very sad."
- "But you'd do it anyway."
Yevna put her arm around my shoulders.
- "I'm very careful, Father. I remember everything that you and Inisian taught me. I cover my tracks, and I move very slowly."
I had to be satisfied with that. It was some consolation to me that Inisian still accompanied her from time to time.
- "She's uncanny." he told me. "She barely makes a sound. If I gave her a head start, I doubt that I could find her."
- "You're not just saying that?" I asked.
Inisian shook his head. "You don't understand, Veran. She's a wood-sprite. It's natural, for her. I have to think about what I'm doing - she doesn't. To tell the truth, I'm a little in awe of her."
No one on the Hill had any complaint, because Yevna became a skilled hunter and trapper. She shared her prizes with everyone.
