Mandra

by Chris Slusser

"I was thinking... now might be a good time for me to go riding. Do you not agree?"

  "Riding?" Valen glanced up at her, "My dear, are you sure? What if you have another accident? You can't be too careful. We haven't got you quite well yet at all. But I suppose physically you are all right..." he trailed off as he thought it over. "You may need to completely relearn how. That could be a bit risky. We'll need to take all precautions... Ah, yes, I have it." He clapped his hands together. "Nole is at my cabin now. I will send word to him. He's an excellent rider, and someone I trust. I have stable workers, you know, but I haven't needed an instructor. Until now."

  Isabel was smiling. This was easier than she had thought it would be. He had always said no before. "Then I can go?" she asked happily.

  "Yes, my dear." He put a hand on hers. "Now you don't mind my taking all these precautions, do you? I just want to keep you safe. You understand?"

  "Yes. I'll be careful. I've just wanted to try it for so long. I know it's something I'll remember." Her eyes sparkled excitedly.

  "I hope so, Isabel. I really do." Valen smiled at her. Then breakfast went on as usual, except Isabel smiled a bit more, much as she had done the morning the tutor had arrived.

  They had decided that afternoons would be a good time for riding, and when Nole arrived, she could finally work with the horses. He had been in the middle of hunting and so would be a few days. He had to stop back with his tribe to deliver the game. They would take care of that, and he would come to stay at the castle for a couple of weeks.

  Nole asked that Isabel meet him at the stables when he arrived, so she trudged down to the stables in a heavy cape and gloves. She was happy to be able to ride finally, but also afraid. She feared she wouldn't feel at all at home riding. She wanted something to feel familiar to her, something that she could hold onto as a part of her identity.

  She found Nole, saddling up a horse inside the stable. Valen had told her they had no side saddles—as no ladies had lived at the castle in recent years. Therefore, she would learn on a regular saddle 'til they could get a new one.

  Nole saw her in the doorway and nodded. She nodded politely and smiled back at him. He looked the same as he had when they'd first met. Apparently, however, he was going to talk even less.

  When he was through with the horse, he led it outside and brought it to the middle of a fenced area. In one hand he also carried a small stool. He set it next to the horse, then held the reins as he motioned her over. "I thought this would work best," he said. Then he took her hand as she stepped onto the little stool.

  Once on top of it, she turned and tried to maneuver herself onto the horse, but it was too ridiculous, and she began to giggle.

  "Okay." Nole cleared his throat. He came over and gingerly put his hands on her waist. "Ready?"

  She nodded.

  He lifted her swiftly and set her into the saddle with her legs both on the same side of the horse, the only way a lady was allowed to ride. He quickly took his hands away then, and went to the front of the horse. "I'll walk him for a while," he informed her.

  "Okay."

  As the horse moved slowly she realized how high up she really was and how precariously she was perched. A few times she felt like toppling, but leaned forward and held onto the saddle horn. One foot in a stirrup helped a little.

  This was not familiar to her, this way of riding anyway. She wanted to try it the way men rode, but didn't have the nerve to ask Nole if she could. He was so quiet and stern looking. She didn't mention it that day.

  He led the horse around for her, and let her get used to the height and the movement of the animal. The next day he did the same, but she felt more comfortable with it. It did upset her that this wasn't something she remembered. She'd felt so sure. She kept taking the riding lessons, however. She'd need to know this.

  Nole was so reserved, yet Valen had said he was a good conversationalist. That he talked with him all the time. She must've done something to offend him. Or maybe he was shy with new people. He didn't look shy. Just kind of disapproving.

  The third day Isabel met him as usual. This time he had two horses saddled. He helped her onto one, then climbed easily onto the other.

  "I'll lead them for now. We'll just go slowly through those fields," he said pointing. He held both horses' reins and led them at a comfortable pace.

  They passed a tuft of small trees at what seemed to be a snail's pace. Isabel could balance well enough, and didn't have to concentrate on that today. She stared at the back of Nole's head in front of her. If only he would speak, this wouldn't be so dull.

  Isabel considered something as the horses were led farther away from the buildings. She decided she would try to find out why he wouldn't speak to her. What harm could come from it?

  "Nole?" she said nicely. "Um... could I ask you something?"

  He glanced back at her, almost with a look of... fear on his face. He nodded.

  "Do you... dislike me?" she asked.

  "No," he answered quickly, then turned away from her. "Why do you ask that?"

  "Oh, Valen told me of how you and he talk about books and things. But you don't seem to want to talk to me, so..." Isabel trailed off.

  "Oh," he said, and hung his head for a moment. "It isn't that I don't like you," he began. "I do. It's just... hard to explain. It's stupid."

  "I'm sure it's not," Isabel said kindly.

  Nole stopped her horse just beside his.

  "I'll understand. I mean, if you want to tell me." She smiled at him encouragingly.

  "It's me," he said after a long pause. "I know how I seem to... 'civilized' people, Isabel. I mean, I'm different, and not everyone understands me because of that. I was raised by the tribe, and I never learned the right way to act around people... like you. Do you know what I mean?" He looked at her expectantly.

  "I know what you mean," she assured him.

  "I didn't want to offend you by being too direct. The gypsies are that way, and so I am too. I don't know how to be your way. Polite. With Valen it's different. He's a man. It's just different." Nole stared off into the trees.

  "You can be yourself with me, Nole. I won't be offended." She looked up shyly. "I mean, you were talking to me just then and it was fine."

  He smiled at her, "I guess I was."

  "Can I ask you something else?"

  "Sure."

  She paused for a moment. "Well, this way of riding feels so unnatural to me." She looked timidly at him, "Could I... you know, try it the way you are riding?"

  He had been expecting a more serious question, and started laughing when he heard her request. She giggled along with him.

  "I don't fit in with 'civilized' people either, I think," she said giggling.

  "We're two of a kind." He smiled. "Just flip one leg over. I won't watch," he added, realizing she'd have to arrange her skirts in a rather unladylike way.

  She spread her dress over the horse and then followed with her leg. That was immensely better, and the wonderful thing was that this felt familiar. Finally! She knew it would.

  "Aha!" she cried. "I'm finished, Nole. You can look."

  "Not bad," he said, swinging around to face her again.

  "It feels so right this way, Nole. Oh, but Valen would not approve, I think."

  "Well, he'll never know." Nole winked at her.

  She smiled at him and slowly took her reins from his hands. Then giving her horse a tap she was off at nice trot, leaving Nole to stare after her in surprise.

  "How'd you do that?" He galloped after her.

  She let out a happy yell then pulled her horse to a stop. "I knew I could do it!" she cried. "Did you see that?"

  "Of course! You surprised me. Why did you not tell me you could ride?" he asked.

  "Well, I didn't know, obviously," she told him laughing.

  "Oh, of course, sorry." His face turned red as he realized what he'd said.

  "It's okay." She smiled, finally catching he
r breath. "Shall we ride?" she asked him playfully.

  "After you," he answered in a mock gentlemanly way.

  "Thank you, sir," she said, and then once again took off through the fields, practicing her newly realized skill.

  He trotted after her with a chuckle, following her exuberant winding trail.

  Chapter 5

  Isabel felt her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to calm her breathing as she sat still and listened to the even steps marching down the stone corridor. It was one soldier, walking briskly and determinedly toward her. But he didn't know she was there... yet.

  Isabel tried to tip toe down the dark stairway softly. A drop of sweat ran down her forehead as she nervously took each downward step. She had the urge to scream as she heard the steps fast approaching her hiding spot.

  Then she heard the voice. The man was calling quietly, "Mandra!... Mandra..." She quickly clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. She squeezed her eyes shut, and, frozen with fear, she waited for the inevitable...

  Then she woke up, as always, sitting up in her bed, a cold sweat upon her face. A fear gripped her so fiercely in those moments, it was all encompassing. Then she would remember where she was and that she was safe. But she always lay awake, eyes aware, until morning, when sleep finally came after the dreadful darkness had gone.

  Always the word "Mandra." It was like the man was calling her this. It must've been her name. Why was she hiding? Why was he chasing her? And why had she still not confided in Valen about her possible identity as this "Mandra"?

  She herself didn't know. Maybe it was because the daytime reality she lived in and this horrible dream world were markedly different. If that really was her life she was dreaming of, she wasn't so sure she'd like to go back there. So she said nothing for the time being, and still hoped that happier memories would emerge.

  * * *

  Valen walked thoughtfully through the white-blanketed garden. Turning a corner on the walkway, he found himself glancing up from the ground to see a man made of snow. Four descending sized balls of packed snow stacked on each other. Startled at first, he stopped quickly. Then he began to smile. It was like having a child in his home, the way he kept finding an open book lying on the stairs or a snow-covered scarf left absentmindedly in a passageway. Now this snowman. More evidence of the lively spirit who had graced his home for the last 2 months. He had never missed not having a family before, never marrying, never having children. Isabel opened the door into a wonderful world for him. She didn't even realize it, or seem to.

  He couldn't remember much of what he'd done for the years before she came. But every day of the past couple of months was etched vividly in his brain. He would miss her.

  Suddenly her quiet laughter broke into his thoughts. Glancing to the side, Valen saw Isabel perched on a low stone bench, watching him with mild amusement.

  "You stared at that snowman so sadly, I thought you were going to embrace him soon." Isabel smiled.

  "Oh," Valen said with a laugh, "that I might. He reminds me of someone special." He went and sat next to her on the bench. "I could tell he was your handiwork. Must be all the artistic skills Devon is teaching you, hmm?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Isabel blushed, "Well..." her voice trailed off.

  "He's missing a face, my dear. Had you noticed?" Valen asked chuckling, glancing at the faceless mound before him. Isabel shrugged her shoulders and gave him a childish grin. "Allow me, darling," he said charmingly, and reached under the bench where there was less snow, and retrieved a small handful of dark stones. Then, hopping up, he began busily placing the stones in a pattern to create a face. Once finished he glanced at Isabel triumphantly. "Hmm?" he asked. "He can smile at us now. I rather like him."

  Isabel smiled back at Valen, but her mood had changed. She seemed far away now.

  "Did I say something wrong?" Valen asked her.

  "No," Isabel said, snapping back to the present. "No, I just... I was thinking. Sorry."

  "Oh, don't be, my dear." He went and sat again and patted her hand. "I understand," he said sincerely. "You're having memories?"

  "Well," Isabel began, frustrated, "not so much memories." She searched for the right words. "It's like my hands remember things. Do you know what I mean?" she asked.

  "I think so."

  "Like this snowman. I was walking here in the garden, and I kicked some snow with my boot and I thought 'This is the perfect type of snow to build with' and so I did. And I knew how." She used her hands as she spoke. "But I don't... remember doing this before. I just know I have." She looked at him hoping she had made him understand her.

  Valen only nodded and held her hand once more, intent on listening to her.

  "It happened with the horses the other day too."

  He glanced up when she said that a little surprised. "So you do remember riding then?" he asked with emotion in his voice. Every memory she had was a step she took away from him and he knew that.

  "Not with my mind. My body remembered it. I didn't need to be taught, Valen." She put her hand over his, wondering why his playful mood had once again turned sad. "What is it?" she asked him.

  "Oh..." he sighed. "Just some old man's thoughts bobbing around in my head, darling. Life regrets and rubbish like that. I was miles away, but I'm back." He squeezed her fingers, and thought he might get emotional as he stared at her small pale hands in his older, rougher ones. "Well now," he said, rising from his seat. "Let's name this young gentleman, hmm?"

  He offered her his arm, and she rose politely, taking it with a smile. "You name him," she said softly.

  She gazed at his face as he surveyed the snowman in play seriousness. "He looks like a Fredrick to me. What do you think?" He glanced down to find a caring face.

  "Oh, yes, that's lovely," she said sincerely.

  "Splendid." He patted her arm. "Tea?" he asked her.

  "Certainly." She smiled warmly at him.

  As they walked past Fredrick on their way to tea, an idea suddenly struck Valen, "You know he has one too many middles," he said tapping one of them.

  Isabel laughed.

  * * *

  It was storming the next day. A heavy blizzard bombarded the castle so furiously it was almost like night instead of morning. But Mr. Gabriel and Isabel went on with their lesson as usual, undaunted by mother nature's cry for attention.

  They sat side by side at the library table. Because of the fading light, Isabel found herself having to lean ever closer to the book she was reading aloud from. This also brought her ever closer to Mr. Gabriel. While this made her heart beat faster in a wonderful way, she found herself stumbling over simple sentences.

  "Sorry, Mr. Gabriel... it's just getting so dark in here," she apologized. "I just can't see the page anymore."

  "Oh, yes," he answered. "I hadn't noticed. You have such a lovely voice, you know..." He was looking down at her. His eyes lingered a bit long on her face and he stopped himself and stood up. "Well, a candle will help, I'm sure. Here..." he said reaching to a shelf with a short candle on it. "It's not much, but it may last the rest of the lesson."

  He lit the candle, and set it near the edge of the table between them.

  He stood for a moment just behind Isabel, and she had her eyes on the book. She hadn't resumed reading yet. She could almost feel his eyes on the back of her head. She thought that if she turned around at that moment she would see him look at her in a way she couldn't ignore. And she couldn't let that happen. She fumbled the pages with her fingers and waited. But the air only grew more tense and she had to look at him.

  She turned.

  He stared down at her with a sort of gentle devoted look, and he cleared his throat, then said her name, "Isabel..."

  "No, don't say anything, Mr. Gabriel... please," she said softly, "Don't..."

  He glanced at his nervous hands for a moment, then looked at her again. The gentle look persisted, but suddenly his eyes grew large an
d he reached quickly toward her shoulder, so it seemed.

  He was patting her hair as she turned and tried to see what was going on.

  "The candle," he sputtered.

  He had moved it away, but apparently when she'd turned a piece of her hair had fallen too near to it and caught fire.

  She felt a rush of energy throughout her body suddenly, realizing real harm could've come to her, but just a little of her hair had been singed.

  Mr. Gabriel still held her hair in his hand. He worked it lovingly with his fingers. "All better now," he said gently, taking a seat beside her again. "You can see I care for you, Isabel..." he said, taking advantage of the incident that had just occurred, to make his point, and only half joking. He took his hand away from her and let it rest on the table. "I would never hurt you."

  Isabel was shaking her head and staring once again into the book. "You don't understand..." she said with tears in her voice. She couldn't look at him this way. It was hard enough when he was just being her teacher, but this...

  "Make me understand," he answered her. He sat patiently, intently looking at her.

  She didn't know if she could find the words to plead her case. This was harder than she'd ever imagined it might be. All she wanted was to give in to this feeling, and she was quickly losing her resolve.

  "You don't know me," she began. "I mean, no one knows me." She paused. "I could be married."

  "No—"

  "No, listen." She stopped him. Looking at him finally she felt her heart melt. She looked away. "I can't... do this... I have no life... no memories... nothing to offer you... not with a clear conscience." She felt a tear slide down her face. "Who am I?" she asked imploringly, looking at him with tears in her eyes.

  He put his hand on hers, "I wish I could tell you." He put his other hand up to her face and wiped the tear away with his thumb.

  Their eyes locked for a moment and he took her face in his hands. Slowly he wiped more tears away, and smoothed her hair back from her face. Then, leaning closer, he whispered softly, "Don't cry anymore." He kissed her forehead, then wrapped his arms around her.

  She gave in, and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling better than she'd probably ever felt, wrapped in his protective arms.

  They sat like that for a while, Devon sometimes patting her back or tracing his fingers down her hair. She sniffed and finally pulled away from him, able to let him go, she felt.