by Jen Pretty
"Humph," Margarette huffed.
"Excellent. Come along, Morgan. That pig pen won't clean itself."
"Yes, Mother Superior." I groaned internally, picking up the untouched lunch tray I had brought to Margarette, then sliding out of the room with a quick glance over my shoulder. Margarette had already tipped her head back and her eyes were closed. The first of her soft snores reached my ears as I shut the door behind me.
"If you think this will get you out of your chores, you are sorely mistaken," Mother Superior said, pressing me against the wall in the hall at the top of the stairs.
"Of course not," I replied, dropping my eyes. Her hard, calloused hands dug into my shoulder and the teacups rattled on the tray.
"Good. You will have to work through dinner to get the pig pens clean. Off you go."
Mother Superior let go of me so fast I nearly collapsed, but I managed to save myself and the tray without dropping anything. I hurried down the stairs to the kitchen, dropping off the tray and rushing out the kitchen door before Cook noticed I had even come in.
A soft nicker met me at the same time as the thick scent of pig manure washed over me. Copper was in his stall, his big doughy eyes focused on me. I passed the other animals and reached deep into my pocket, fishing out a carrot lump. I offered the treat to him and he took it gently, his whiskers ticking my palm. Copper’s warm scent filled my nose, as I ran my fingers up into his long forelock. He rested his forehead on my chest and nuzzled in.
"I miss you, too," I said. We hadn't ridden in the four days since we arrived but before that I used to spend hours a day grooming and caring for the gelding. I was in the barn at the orphanage the night he was born. He was slippery and had big floppy ears disproportionate to his size. His legs were so long he couldn't stand and I had spent his first week lifting him to nurse. Eventually, his legs straightened, and he began to run and jump. His athletic ability was both a delight and suggested trouble for the future.
I scratched Copper's ears, and he leaned into my hand with a groan making me laugh. "I'll take you out as soon as I'm done with the smelly pigs."
He snorted, spraying me in the face with his hay-scented slobbers.
I swung open the pig sty door and grabbed the pitchfork. The young pigs squealed and scattered to the far side of their pen. I dug in, scooping the sloppy bedding up, then shoveled it out, repeating the movement over and over until the blisters on my hands burst and my muscles strained. Moving the manure and straw to the pile outside the barn was the harder task. But when I was done, I threw new bedding down and shook it out, making the pigs a soft fluffy bed.
By then it was dusk, but I hadn't forgotten my promise to Copper. I threw on his bridle and led him out of the courtyard. Scrambling onto his back with the aid of a large rock, we were galloping through the fields surrounding the convent in the last rays of evening light.
Laughter bubbled up and echoed across the landscape from my parched throat. My stomach grumbled, but the freedom was worth missing a meal. Copper’s hooves thundered on the packed earth until we reached the forest. I pulled him to a trot, so I didn't knock my head off any low branches and then guided him to the small stream that cut through the forest, heading to the sea.
Copper stopped at the edge of the water, but I nudged him forward. He took cautious steps into the cool water until it was deep enough to reach his withers, soaking my legs and up to my waist. Goose bumps rose on my flesh and I cupped my hands, splashing water onto Copper’s mane and over his haunches. He flapped his head, splashing water around his nose. My face began to hurt from smiling so long. Copper was such a fool.
The sun dipped below the horizon but the full moon left us enough light to see as Copper strolled back towards the convent, grabbing bites of grass along the way.
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, I rose with the sun. I was excited to have risen before anyone had time to bang on my door. I was settling in, doing my chores and learning to read -- something I had always wanted to do, but had no time.
Darla met me at my door with a grin. "We are cleaning the fireplaces today," she said.
I wasn't sure why she was excited about that. The fireplaces hadn't been used in a while and the black soot would surely coat us both by the time we finished.
"We get to work together the whole morning," she said, grinning at my curious expression.
"That is good news!" I said as we rounded the top of the stairs and hurried down to the kitchen to get rags and buckets. Finally, a whole day to talk to Darla. She and I had become fast friends as the two outsiders in the convent, but had little interaction.
We hustled to the study which was dark and quiet; it was still too early for most of the women to be out of bed. Darla lit a lamp and set it beside the fireplace as I carried the bucket of water and rags, setting it down between us.
We got to work, scrubbing the soot from the stone hearth and while we did that, we talked about many things.
"Where did you come from?" I asked her.
"I was living in the south, but when my parents died, my uncle took me in. He lives close to here. When I became of age, he no longer had use for me as he had since remarried and his second wife didn't like me much."
"That's terrible. So, he threw you out?"
She looked down at the stone, scrubbing it lightly. "I suppose. I like to think of it more that he had finished raising me. Now I live here, which is nice. Plus, I am close to God." She glanced up at the ceiling and I looked up, too. There was nothing there, just planks.
"That's nice," I said, unsure how to answer her.
"Hmm," she hummed, wringing out her rag into the bucket, turning the water black. We worked in silence for a while, scrubbing until the fireplace was clean and the water, rags and our clothes were black with soot.
We moved about the house, replacing the water and cleaning all the fireplaces. When we made it to the third floor, Darla looked nervous. I knew we had to clean Margarette's fireplace, too. It was the last one on the list. So, I cautiously approached her door. I was still unsure of the old woman, but I wouldn't let that stop me from doing my work, so I raised my hand to knock on the door.
A voice from within stopped me. "Come in, young ones."
Darla's hand shook, but she turned the latch and I pushed the door open.
"Hello, Margarette." I chimed in my best fake brave voice.
"Ah, so glad you have come, Morgan. And you have brought a friend?"
I glanced back at Darla. "This is Darla, she used to bring your lunch," I said.
"Oh, of course," the old woman laughed. "I haven't seen her face much as she usually dropped the tray and ran away, didn't you little mouse?"
Darla refused to look at Margarette. She kept her eyes focused on the floor but her face was pale.
"Do you want me to finish cleaning this fireplace?" I asked her.
Darla didn't reply, she just shoved the water bucket at me and turned, running from the room.
Margarette laughed, before settling down and rocking back and forth in her chair, the soft squeak almost familiar already.
I knelt down and began working on the fireplace; it was cleaner than the others in the house, so it wasn't long before I had it scrubbed clean.
"I'll be back with your lunch, once I change and clean up." I said as I moved towards the door.
"No rush, child. I’ll just be here waiting for you."
I found it was an odd thing to say, and I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not, so I hurried anyway. I didn't want to upset her when we had seemed to find a common ground. I dumped the dirty water into the vegetable garden, being sure not to get it on the plants as cook had warned me, then I returned to my room, changing out of the soot covered clothes and into my spare set.
I returned to the kitchen and grabbed Margarette's lunch tray, before taking stairs once more up to the third floor, where I knocked gently on the door.
She didn't reply, so I knocked harder. I heard a clatter inside
and worried for a moment she had fallen, so I pushed the door open in time to see her sit down in her rocking chair.
"I thought you couldn't walk," I said.
"Hmm? Oh, never mind that, come in child and close the door before prying eyes see you standing in the doorway."
I did as she said, closing the door behind me and setting her tray down beside her rocking chair. I glanced up at her, wondering if I could push the issue, but she just pointed to the book on the foot of her bed, so I picked it up and sat down.
"From the beginning," she said.
I flipped to the first page which I had already almost memorized. She ate while I read, to my surprise. The previous day she hadn't touched the food, but today she ate a few mouthfuls of soup and a crust of bread before picking up her cup of tea and leaning back in her chair to rock while I clumsily read the fairytale story. I remembered some fairy tales my mother used to read to me when I was very small, but I didn't believe in fairy tales anymore.
"That is enough for today," Margarette said, startling me out of my efforts. "Go find your skittish friend. I'm ready for a rest."
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you." I set the book down and picked up the tray as Margarette's breaths evened out and her eyes fluttered shut. I crept out of the room, careful not to shake the tray or close the door too loud.
"Morgan!"
I spun on my heel and found Mother Superior standing in the hall with her hands on her hips. "You had better get down to the kitchen. Cook is preparing a large meal for tonight and needs your help." She turned on her heel and stomped away muttering about my laziness.
I cursed myself again, wondering how long I had been reading in Margarette's room.
Down in the kitchen, Cook was yelling and rushing around, while Darla cowered by a large pot, stirring it and cringing at the other woman's tirade.
"Morgan! About time. Get to work on those vegetables and start kneading the dough. I can't believe you have been off reading while we have so much work to do!"
Cook moved to the fire and turned the large game bird that was roasting there.
I hurried to do as she asked, chopping vegetables and kneading dough and washing pots from breakfast that were needed for dinner. It was dark by the time we had finished the serving and cleanup. I was exhausted and frazzled spending so much time in the tight space with the irate woman, so instead of climbing the stairs to my room, I grabbed a lamp and slipped out the back door.
The night air was fresh and smelled of the rain that was coming. Dark clouds blocked the stars and lightening flashed to the west over the water. I moved through the darkness to the stable door, sliding it open and slipping inside.
It was muggy inside, the warm breath of the animals heating the small structure. A soft nicker greeted me, pulling my mouth into a smile as Copper’s coat glittered in the candlelight.
"Hey, boy," I whispered, slipping into his stall. My hands ran down his neck and across his shoulder. His slick coat was soft and warm under my hands and his chin came to rest against my back as I tucked myself into his chest and let my hands slide up to circle his neck. The scent of horse filled my nostrils, and tense muscles around my shoulders relaxed. Copper stood solid and let me lean on him, let me rest against him. He always bore me; even as a foal, he was my sanctuary.
Eventually my legs grew too tired and I sat down in the hay in his stall, leaning back against the wall while he munched happily.
I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, I heard Copper scream and woke to thick smoke clawing at my lungs.
CHAPTER FOUR
I jumped to my feet, the smoke so thick I couldn't see. My hands slid across the stall wall until I came to the door. I reached over and struggled with the latch for a second as each breath drew in more of the hot char burning my lungs.
"Get out Copper!" I yelled as soon as the stall door was open, but the barn door was still shut. So, I stumbled past him, tripping over something along the wall as flames jumped up from the hay bale I had set the lamp on.
I threw myself at the barn door and it swung open, blasting me with cool night air, but also shooting the flames up to the wood beams that supported the low roof of the old structure.
"Go!" I yelled and Copper darted past me, taking off into the night.
I coughed and waved my arms trying to clear a path before giving up and diving in. I felt along the wall and fumbled the lock on the pigpen.
The little pigs were racing around and squealing.
"Get out, you little fools!" I yelled and scrambled through the straw finally herding them out the door and into the courtyard.
The cow was still inside, but a hard hand grabbed my arm as I turned to run back into the barn.
"Let go!" I hollered, trying to break away from the person holding me back.
"Calm yourself, child." Margarette's voice startled me out of my struggles. "You will surely perish if you go back for the cow."
I stopped struggling and just stared at the small barn, wishing I had never come to the convent at all. I had left the lamp burning. It was still burning as I lay beside Copper. That fresh hay would have lit so easily.
The roof of the barn caved in, collapsing into a burning heap and sending sparks high into the sky.
The hand on my shoulder released me and I fell to my knees.
It was all my fault.
Voices called out behind me, but I couldn't look away from what I had done.
"What's happened?" Mother superior's panicked voice said from right behind me.
"The barn caught fire," I whispered, praying God wouldn't hear me. Perhaps an omission wasn't as bad as an outright lie.
"You saved the pigs?" She asked, as the rest of the sisters began taking buckets and running toward the lake. The fire had nearly burned out already, the small frame building was little more than a shack made of sticks.
"Yes, Mother Superior, but not the cow." More coughs wracked my body and I vomited on the stone ground.
"Well, we will get a new cow. Off to bed with you, you are hardly in any condition to help with the fire now."
I rose to my feet, thankful she hadn't thought to blame me, but knowing it was coming. Before morning I would be the one who had burned down the pig barn. I couldn't decide if that was better or worse than being called pig pen, but I somehow knew this was the thing that would seal my fate here. I would never have friends after this. Even Darla would turn her back on me when she found out.
I dragged myself to my room and collapsed on my bed, trying to blank my mind of the evening's event, but one fact kept popping back into my head. Margarette had been down there and stopped me from going back into the barn. She was strong and standing, but she had been unable to walk for years. Maybe it was someone else who sounded like Margarette.
Finally, I could take it no more and rose from my bed, creeping down the halls and up the stairs to Margarette's room. I slipped the door open a bit and peeked inside, but the old woman was fast asleep in her bed with no sign she had been outside saving me from certain death.
**
The next morning, I woke with the same dread as I had the night before. I smelled like smoke. Soot clung to my clothes and hair as I quickly changed into the second all grey outfit Darla and I had scavenged from the basement of the convent.
There was a soft knock at my door as I was brushing out my red hair and Darla peeked in.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
I nodded and she stepped into my room, closing the door behind her.
"Everyone is talking." She sat down on the bed beside me.
"What are they saying?" I already had a pretty good idea what they were saying.
Darla glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "They are saying you burned down the barn on purpose... and that you're a curse."
I flung myself back on the bed and closed my eyes. It was much worse than I had expected. Negligence was one thing, but to be labelled a curse was nearly as bad as being called a magic user.
"D
on't worry. I'm sure it will all fade over time." Darla said the right words, but she didn't quite sound like she meant it. "I had better go."
I didn't move until I heard the door click shut behind her.
"Yes, don't want to be caught conspiring with the curse," I muttered, tucking my hair brush into the chest of drawers and dragging myself down to the kitchen.
"Morgan! You're late," Cook shouted, thrusting a tray of scones and jam into my hands.
"Sorry, Cook."
"You still smell of fire, hurry and deliver those, then go to the river. You can bring back the water for cooking. Perhaps the walk will air you out."
I turned on my heel, nearly toppling into Sister Bethel.
"Watch where you are going, Pigpen." The woman scowled at me. "I don't want your curse to infect me."
"Move it, Morgan," Cook said from behind me before I could even reply to Bethel.
"Yes, Cook," I sneered at Bethel behind her back as I exited the kitchen, then hurried down the hall.
At the bottom of the stairs I felt a hand jerk me to a stop. The scent of magnolias wafted to my nose, and I spun, expecting to see one of the sisters behind me, but there was no one there. It was as if a ghost had grabbed me.
"You had better hurry," Darla said, startling me further. "Mother Superior is in a terrible mood this morning."
I put the thought of ghosts out of my mind and hurried past Darla with a quick thanks.
"There you are. I hope you don't think you can have the day off chores, just because you burned the barn down," Mother Superior said as I set the tray down on the table in the parlour.
"Of course not," I replied, passing out the scones to each of the older woman who sat in soft chairs gossiping and doing needlepoint. I wasn't sure how needle point was God's work, but they made some beautiful cushions.
"You will have to go into the city and find us a new cow tomorrow. It won't do to have no milk in the kitchen if the Bishop happens by for a visit." Mother superior leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her tea.