Chapter Four: Gone Away

I took a deep breath, keeping my face completely void of emotion, struggling to keep from getting angry that I was, yet again, being sent away when something interesting was going on. My day had started so perfectly and now this was happening, first thing; but I nodded. “Yes sir.”

I walked to the door and slid my feet into my boots.

“No, you can stay,” Father said.

Myrond and I both looked at him, surprised.

“Are you sure?” Myrond asked him carefully. “What I have to say might upset her.”

“I am...are you sure you want to become an adult, Tasia?” Father asked.

I nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Then we will start with this and see how you do...Proceed Myrond.”

Myrond shrugged and began slowly. “Alright...there are people gathering in the square.”

“What are they doing?” Father asked.

“They are...preparing to leave. They’re taking their sons to the castle.”

My eyes grew wide. 

“Why are they doing that?” Father asked hesitantly.

Myrond sighed. “They’re afraid of the wrath of Makata...so they’re doing as he said.”

I was outraged; completely horrified that anyone would be cowardly enough to surrender their sons to the brute. I was also scared. I didn’t know what would happen to the Sector without the boys; they were the ones who kept our  township running, they did most of the work, they were training to replace their fathers once they were too old to work, and one day they’d father the next generation.

Without them our Sector was doomed. It was obvious they couldn’t leave- Myrond had to be mistaken. The boys must’ve been gathering to protest, they weren’t really leaving. Surely their parents could see what I, a child, could see.

No, I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult. I corrected.

Father was grinding his teeth, something he only did when he was extremely angry. “So the cowards are just giving up? Letting their boys face Makata, instead of them?”

Myrond nodded. “So it seems.”

Father’s face was bright red, his fists clenched.

“Shall I help you into town?”

Father nodded, “Just as soon as we finish devotions.”

“Oh, surely you’re not going to bother with those at a time like this,” Myrond scoffed.

Father narrowed his eyes. “I am.”

Myrond sighed angrily, aware that arguing with Father was useless. “Fine; I’ll be waiting outside. Holler for me when you’re finished.”

Myrond stomped outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Sit down Tasia.”

I started over towards the vacant seat. “What are we going to do? What will happen if the boys go? How will we stop them? Can we-“

“Hush. It’s time for devotions now. We’ll think about the boys later. Read-“Father opened his Bible. “That page.”

I took a deep breath, settling myself. I read the page he indicated, a bit faster than I normally would have, and then he prayed- a shorter prayer than he normally did. “Father, thank you for delivering us into this day safely; I thank You for Tasia and Kyan, and ask that You keep them safe today. Please Lord, give us strength to get through the day and do Your will-today and always. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

“Amen...I’ll go get Myrond.”

Father nodded.

I rushed outside, running into Myrond, who was standing on the porch, just in front of the door. “I’m sorry Mr. Myrond...We’re-um-done.”

Myrond nodded, rubbing his back where I had hit him. “Alright.”

He walked past me and helped Father get his boots on. I quickly laced my own boots up, and stood, waiting for Myrond to push Father outside. In a minute they were ready, and Myrond wheeled Father outside, down the ramp we had built onto the porch, and into the road; I tied the door shut behind them.

“Tasia, please milk the cow and gather the eggs.”

“Now?” I asked, trying not to whine.

“Yes now. You’re nearly an hour late on milking the cow as it is.”

I sighed. “Yes sir.”

I stood in the road for a moment, watching them go, and then whirled around and sprinted back in the house, grabbing the things I needed to milk the cow, and then ran to the barn. I threw my buckets down and ran out into the barn lot, a rope hanging from my arm.

I recoiled slightly as her nose was suddenly in front of me, her big, stupid brown eyes peering into mine. I narrowed my eyes as she hit me with her head, sending a string of saliva over me- coating my left shoulder in a slick, mucous covered mess.

“Ew! Nika!” I exclaimed. “You nasty, dim witted, disgusting creature!”

Moo.

 “Oh shut up,” I ordered, as I slipped a loop of the rope over her head.

I led her into the barn, being careful to keep my feet from getting under her large hooves.  “That was obnoxious,” I scolded. “Now I’ve gotta change my shirt before I go into town. I’ll probably miss something interesting.”

Moo.

“Oh don’t give me that,” I ordered. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re nasty and you know it. Niko never slobbers on me like that.”  I tied her to the post in the barn.

Moo.

“Yeah, that’s right. A calf can keep his spit in his mouth…well…away from me- but you can’t.” I dumped a can of grain into the trough in front of her.

She greedily began eating the grain- and I sat down on a stool beside her. I quickly washed her sack, tossed my dirty water aside, and began to milk into a clean bucket.

I wrapped my small hand around one of her large teats, trying to squeeze and pull- how Kyan had shown me how to do it. He had always been so fast when he milked her- his large hands quickly draining all of the milk she’d allow him to have, both his hands pulling the frothy, warm milk with the greatest of ease.

I could barely manage to milk with one hand, and never got as much from Nika as Kyan could, but I got nearly half a bucket full today, before she stopped her flow. I dumped the milk into a second bucket I had hanging on the wall, protected from her being able to kick it over. I hurried around her and opened the door to her calf’s stall.

“Hey Niko, come on,” I called.

He hurriedly ran past me- crowding his way under his mother, grabbing hold of one of her teats, and sucking. In a moment he pulled back and slammed his head into his mother’s underside, several times, hard- bawling angrily.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

He grabbed hold of one of her teats again, and in a moment I heard him happily slurping his morning meal. I quickly sat down across from Niko, and began milking one of the teats that he wasn’t using.

Half an hour later Niko was back in his stall, his stomach bulging, Nika was out in the pasture once more, and I was walking towards the house, being careful not to spill my bucketful of milk. I set the milk on the ground beside the sink, got ready to strain it, and then thought better of it- I turned and pushed the whole bucket of milk into the ice box, having to take out several small bottles of already strained and chilled milk to make room.

I grabbed a small basket and rushed to the chicken coop, throwing the doors open wide, making all of the hens cluck and squawk in surprise. I hurriedly snatched up the eggs from the laying boxes, being sure to get the ones under the roost, laid by insurgent chickens.

I ran into the house, slightly winded. I wrapped the eggs in a soft towel- retrieving the many eggs from the shelf that I had gathered in previous days and bundling them too, quickly counting the eggs as I placed them in the basket.

I bounded across the kitchen floor, skipping several rungs as I pulled myself into the loft. I cast my shirt towards the laundry basket- the fabric waving in the air, landing softly, some feet away from the laundry basket. I pulled another shirt over my head, not bothering to put my hair back into a pony tail, even though the shirt pulled half of my hair free, and leapt most of the way to the ground.

I slipped half a dozen bottles of the chilled milk into a bag, slipped the straps over my shoulders, grabbed the basket of eggs, and sprinted down the road after Father and Myrond.

I caught up with them when they were just around the turn from town- huffing from my run I slowed to a walk and matched my pace to Myrond’s, allowing Father to take the basket from me.

 He held the basket and watched me pant, grinning. “I don’t think you’ve ever finished your chores as quickly as you did this morning.”

 “Me neither,” I agreed breathlessly.

 “Did you strain the milk?”

“I-uh-um,” I giggled nervously.

Father sighed, shaking his head, “Do it as soon as you get home.”

“Yes sir.”

“She just gets here and you’re already putting her to work again,” Myrond teased.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” I agreed, laughing.

“Oh yes, I’m a slave driver,” Father laughed. “Here, carry this, servant girl.”

I laughed and took the basket from his lap, sliding over my forearm.

“That’s not right,” Myrond laughed, shaking his head dramatically. “Poor girl- turned into a slave by her own father.”

I grinned. “I think that-“ I was stopped short as the town came into view, letting me see the streets were filled with people; people who should’ve been out of sight- farmers, the baker, the blacksmith- all were in the streets, arguing with anyone who’d trade words with them.

There were many angry shouts as people noticed us, and suddenly we found ourselves standing in front of a mob- everyone glaring at us.

 “There he is.” Garrett, the dry foods shopkeeper said. “How dare you come here?”

“Be respectful when you speak to my Father,” I snarled as I set my bundles on the ground, and stepped in front of Father protectively.

“You’re the biggest part of the problem,” Garrett growled as he swung his fist at me.

I tried to move, but was too slow, and his fist caught me on the chin; knocking me backward, making me trip over Father’s chair, and fall  on the ground on the other side. I sprang back up, angry, and took a step towards Garrett; but I was, again, too slow.

Myrond had already knocked Garrett onto his back and was kneeling on top of him, driving his knees into Garrett’s sides, punching him. Everybody took a few steps backwards, not daring to venture too near Myrond’s flying fists.

 I hesitated, unsure of what to do; I felt bad about Myrond having to defend me, again, for the second time in the past eighteen hours.

“Please stop,” I begged, as bright blood gushed from Garrett’s nose.

Myrond continued to pound his fists into Garrett’s face and sides, Garrett at first trying to take the offense, then merely trying to protect himself.

“Stop it!” I shouted, as I grabbed a hold of Myrond’s shoulder.

He whirled around; knocking me backwards, into Father’s chair, making me skin my back against Father’s foot rest-he pulled his fist back, ready to strike, pupils dilated. I gasped and threw my hands over my face fearfully, protectively.

He took a deep breath, his face sobering, his eyes filling with fear- horrified at how close he had come to hitting me, the girl he was trying to protect. “What is it?”

“Please don’t hit him anymore,” I begged.

Myrond clenched his jaws angrily. I stood.

“Please,” I pleaded. “I don’t want you to hurt him.”

“He deserves every lick.”

“No he doesn’t, he only hit me once and not even very hard. “

Myrond narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  “He still hit you.”

“I-I know, but...he didn’t hit me squarely- it doesn’t even hurt anymore,” I lied, determinedly keeping my hand from rubbing my throbbing jaw.

“It doesn’t.” Myrond stated skeptically.

“No sir, it doesn’t,” I said. “So please stop.”

Myrond sighed. “Fine- whatever you want.”

He stood and flicked his wrists, sending droplets of bright red blood flying everywhere; the crowd watch in eerie silence, each person afraid they’d be next. Myrond wiped his knuckled on his pants, smearing blood across the already stained canvas, and then looked around at the crowd.

“Now what is this all about?”

He was met by silence.

“Somebody had better be speaking up,” he growled.

There was another silence, as I pulled a rag from my pocket and gently held his hand between mine. I started to dab at the blood that burbled out of the cuts on his knuckles, but he pulled his hand away and gestured for me to leave him alone.

“What’s wrong with you people?” He demanded.

There was another silence.

“Um...Mr. Myrond,” I said slowly.

“What?”

“I-I think they’re scared.”

“Scared of what?” Myrond asked.  He turned to the crowd. “What are you people scared of?”

Garrett groaned.

“I-I think they’re afraid of what you did to Mr. Garrett.”

Myrond looked at Garrett and then up at the crowd. “Well if everyone stays respectful of Timothy and Tasia, you don’t have anything to worry about. That only happens when you hit little girls.”

“I’m not little,” I grumbled.

Myrond examined the crowed harshly. “I don’t have all day-somebody had better be talking.”

“Um, well, sir,” a boy in the front row started slowly. “I-I think that they...are...angry-with-Miss Tasia.”

“Me? Why are you mad at me?” I asked, stunned.

A few people murmured, but I couldn’t tell what they said.

“Why are you angry with me?” I repeated. “What I do?”

“Somebody had better be answering the lady,” Myrond growled.

Liandior pushed his way through the crowd. “They’re mad at Tasia for reading the letter.”

“What?” I asked incredulously. “You’re the people who told the soldier I could read in the first place! I didn’t want to! You forced me into it.”

“But...If you hadn’t read the letter...then we wouldn’t know that Makata wants us,” the boy in the front row replied slowly. “The soldier couldn’t read...”

I put a hand on my forehead, distressed. “You’re blaming me for Makata’s decree?”

Is it my fault?

“It’s not your fault,” Myrond said firmly, as he stepped forward and put an arm around my shoulders.

“Well why are you angry with me?” Father asked.

“You taught her how to read.” Someone said resentfully.

“I did not. Kyan taught her, when I thought she was too little to learn.”

“Well you taught Kyan.”

Father sighed. “Well I’m not going to apologize for having literate children...and it’s not Tasia’s fault that Makata made this decree. The solider probably knew what the letter was about, and, even if he didn’t, he would’ve been back in a few days with someone who can read.”

“That’s actually pretty likely...” the boy in the front row said slowly.

People slowly resumed talking- a murmur that quickly grew to a chaotic roar, making it impossible to tell one voice from the next. I bewilderedly looked from Father, to Myrond, to Liandior, and then back to Father- I had never seen so many people arguing at once.

“W-what do we do?” I asked, my eyes wide in astonishment.

“Now,” Liandior answered, as he sat on the ground by Father’s chair, “we wait. The fight will burn itself out eventually- and then they might listen to reason.”

Myrond nodded. “Aye... it’s useless to try to reason with an angry man.”

“Oh...”

“Sit down, Tasi,” Father invited. “This’ll probably take a while.”

I sat down in front of Father’s chair and crossed my legs; I slouched, resting my chin on my hands and my elbows on my knees. I looked across the chair from me, and saw that Liandior was sitting the same way- he looked at me and smirked.

“What?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You just seem really...nervous.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled softly, “Whatever you say, Miss Tasia.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That wasn’t my fault.”

“I know. It was still amusing, though...I wonder how long that’ll last, Miss Tasia.”

“Hopefully not very long, it feels weird...Don’t you encourage it, either.”

He laughed. “Aw, come on.”

“No. I don’t like it.”

“Well I do.”

I snorted. “You had better not make the ‘miss’ stick.”

He laughed again, and then looked at the crowd and the trees around us. I took a deep breath and looked up at Father, who was gently talking to Myrond, whose face was slowly beginning to return to its normal hue. I sighed and looked around, trying to find a way amuse myself.

There were lots of things to do at my house. I could play ball, or fish, or hunt, or ride Bo- but there weren’t many things for a little girl, sitting on a roadside, watching a fight, to do. I looked in the treetops, but there weren’t any birds- the noise had scared them all away.

I took a deep breath and focused on the dirt in front of me, dried but not yet cracked, as I tried to find something to think about. I tried for several long moments to reflect on our morning devotions, but most of the page had been about genealogies and I found it difficult to draw any relationship between them and my life.

I knew that they had to be important- they wouldn’t be in the Bible if they weren’t- but I couldn’t figure out a lesson that could be learned from it, nor how I could grow from meditating on it, and I soon grew bored.  

After a while, in a final act of desperation, I picked up a stick lying under Father’s chair and dug the tip into the dry ground in front me, carving my name in wobbly, uneven letters- somehow managing to keep them legible.

 “What’s that?” Liandior asked, as he rocked forward and traced my letters with his finger.

“My name,” I replied.

Liandior continued to trace the letters and repeated, “Your name.”

“Yeah, see? T-A-S-I-A, Tasia,” I said, as I pointed to each letter.

“Oh,” he said slowly.

I scratched his name in the dirt below mine. “This is yours. See? L-I-A-N-D-I-O-R, that spells Liandior.”

He carefully traced the letters. “My name is far longer than yours.”

I shrugged. “Only because I shortened mine- if I add A-N-A-S,” I scratched the letters into the dirt in front of mine name, “Then it’s Anastasia- about the same length as yours- actually a bit longer.”

Liandior stared at the letters for a long moment, and then looked at me. “Can you write Tylia’s name?”

“Sure.”

I swept my hand across the patch of dirt, erasing the letters. Liandior’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t! Why did you do that? You ruined them!”

I jumped at his suddenness. “It-it’s alright Liandior. I can re-write them.”

“Oh...that’s okay. Write Tylia’s first.” He determinedly straightened his shoulders, and sat back on his heels.

“Alright.” I scratched her name into the dirt, and then pointed to each letter, naming them as I went.

“Write Pap’s name,” Liandior said eagerly.

“Your Father or mine?”

“Mine- no yours- no...Both!”

I chuckled. “Alright, this is your father’s name- M-Y-R-O-N-D, and this is my father’s name- T-I-M-M-O-T-H-Y.

“There’s only one ‘M’ in my name,” Father said.

My face flushed red with embarrassment. “Oh-um- yeah, I knew that.”

“Well then, don’t teach the boy wrong,” Father laughed.

“Yes sir.” I swiped my hand over the patch of dirt, returning it to a flat patch of dust, and re-wrote Father’s name- spelled correctly.

“It looks like they’re starting to simmer down,” Myrond noted. “Get up boy.”

I rose to my feet as Liandior scrambled up- we both looked to Myrond for directions.

“Are you children done yet?” Myrond shouted mockingly.

The voices died off and everyone looked at Myrond.

“Good...I think we all agree that we’ve got a problem, whether you knotheads see the real trouble or not...God only knows why Makata wants our boys, but the fact is that he does- so we’ve got to find a way to stop him.”

“Are you mad? We can’t stop Makata,” A man said angrily, as he pulled his mule free from the crowd.

“We don’t have to give him the boys though,” Myrond stated.

“He’ll kill us if we don’t.”

“He’ll probably kill them if we do,” Myrond growled.

The man shook his head incredulously. “You’re a fool, Myrond. He’s too strong.”

The man pushed past us, leading his mule, his son fearfully following behind him, eyes wide, pleading. Liandior and I watched in horror as they walked around the bend, out of sight- the first friend we lost to Makata.

“Please don’t,” I begged, as I grabbed the arm of a second man who was leading his son off to his death. The man roughly jerked his arm from my grasp and kept walking.

Tears began streaming down my face as I watched half a dozen more of my friends being led off to their deaths, them fearfully but compliantly, obediently, walking beside their fathers. I began sobbing uncontrollably, trembling, my chest heaving as I panted for a breath of air.

They’re going to die. Makata’s going to kill them. I’m going to lose my friends...because their father’s won’t fight...I’m never going to see them again.

Father gently rubbed my arm and murmured soothing words to me, encouraging me to move closer to his chair, hugging me when I did, his warm arm making me feel safer, more secure, as I mourned for my dear friends.

A few minutes later Myrond stepped forward once more. “Is that it? Are there any more cowards who want to give their sons as peace offerings?”

There was a long, strained silence, as I roughly wiped the tears away.

“Good. Get back to work- everybody. We’ve got a lot to do, now that we’ve lost seven fine young men,” Myrond said bitterly. “Go on!”

The crowd quickly dispersed, and Myrond sighed deeply, looking at Father worriedly, tiredly.

“How about,” Father began slowly. “We go someplace and get a bite to eat.”

“How can you eat at a time like this?” I nearly shouted.

“We men need food in our bellies to think,” Myrond said gently. “Your Pap’s right.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, amazed that they could be thinking about food when my friends were heading off to be slaughtered. “Well, I brought some milk and eggs with me. I can go peddle them, and try to buy some bread and jerky.”

 “That’s not necessary. I’ve got all the meat you could want at my house and my brother’s the baker- he won’t charge if Liandior goes to fetch that.” Myrond paused and looked at Liandior hard, “now.”

“Yes sir,” Liandior sprinted down the dusty streets, out of sight.

“...We can drink the milk with the meal, and you could sell the eggs to get some cheese...if that’s alright?” Myrond asked Father.

“Of course,” Father nodded. “Go on Tasi.”

I grabbed the bag of milk and basket of eggs, and turned towards the town. “Yes sir.”

“I’ll take the milk,” Myrond offered, as he reached for it. “So you don’t have to tote it all over the town.”

I looked at Father uncertainly. “I, um, uh...”

“It’s alright,” Father said. “Give it to him.”

“Yes sir.” I handed Myrond the bag of milk, and briskly walked towards the town.

“Come to my place when you’ve finished,” Myrond called after me.