“Yes, the Burgundians have destroyed quite a few villages. You are not the first to come here in search of a new home. We are lucky that they haven’t come to our village and so we’ve been able to live in relative peace. What exactly will you be needing?” he asked. Jehanette pretended to sew a patch on a shirt while listening carefully to our conversation.
I thought about how exactly to ask for a place to stay and for food to eat. It was a lot to ask.
“Well…” I hesitated. “I’m not sure really. Maybe we could help you out a bit. In exchange for a place to stay?”
He chewed on this idea; I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
“Just for now, until we find a place of our own, of course,” I added quickly.
Until we figure out how to get back. If not, are we supposed to build a house or something? Oh, we’re in trouble.
“What can you help with? What do you know how to do?”
“Er…” I stammered. “I’m not sure, what do you need help with?” I could see Jehanette carefully listening to our conversation.
Jacques put his hand to his chin, rubbing the patch of stubble. “I could probably use help with the sheep and the garden could use an extra hand.”
“Actually I used to garden with my mom when I was younger.”
He gave me a funny look.
“But I would love to help you with the sheep, of course.”
He appraised me up and down.
“Of course the sheep will need to get used to you, as skittish as they are,” he said.
“Oh. Oh yeah, of course.”
I’ll never fit in here.
“Come with us tomorrow morning and we can show you how things are done. After a while, if you get the hang of things, I’d like to leave you with them. I have some other plans that I need to work on, but it’s hard to get around to them with everything that I need to do during the day.”
“Sure, that sounds great,” I said, trying to sound confident that I could manage sheep. “It will only be for a little while, until we get things settled,” I repeated.
What things, I have no idea. What are we going to do?
“And, of course, they’ll sleep in the house with us. Not in the barn,” Jehanette spoke up.
Jacques stared at her.
“Jehanette, we hardly know them. We can’t go letting in everybody we meet on the street.”
“We can trust them. I know it,” she replied confidently.
I stood still, not daring to move or practically breathe. I wanted this badly, for all three of us. Jacques pondered her request as he looked me over. Finally he sighed loudly.
“Fine,” he said.
In that moment I decided that Jehanette was my new best friend. I smiled at her in gratitude and she returned the smile warmly.
“I trust you,” she repeated.
❦
After being with them for only one day, I could already see that Isabelle ran her household like a well-oiled machine. I could not imagine a weed growing in their garden without it being squalshed immediately.
After telling Isolda and Ailey that Jacques had agreed to let us stay in exchange for helping out, we began the charade of pretending that we knew how to live in this world. I tried out my hand with the sheep and horses, while Isolda and Ailey helped keep the house clean and worked in the garden. Soon, Jehanette was even teaching them sewing and fishing. She laughed when she saw Isolda’s first try at making a shirt. I had to admit it looked pretty ridiculous. But Jehanette was patient in teaching them and they started to get the hang of it. For a whole week I felt like we walked around like zombies, in a constant state of shock. This was either a really long dream or I was going crazy.
Because what I think is happening can’t really be happening.
The shock of the situation started to wear off but we always kept our ears and eyes out for any way possible to get back home. We racked our brains to figure out what was going on and how we got here. Although the girls put on a brave face, I could tell that they were still afraid and confused.
Isolda and I didn’t talk about our relationship or about Greg, either. What could I say? At the beginning, our shock and fear bonded us together and things just stayed that way. We were friends and I was happy to keep it at that. For now.
At night, I obsessively worried about my mom. Of course, I was also worried about my dad, but my mom was already so weak that my disappearance could wreck her. These thoughts haunted me until I fell asleep. I no longer had any dreams of the past. Although I slept restlessly, my dreams were solely and completely in the present moment of the past century. Man, how I longed for a comfortable bed.
We found out that we were in France living in what we approximated to be the fifteenth century. The family lived in constant fear of the English—or as Jacques had said, the Burgundians bands—who had been known to pillage cities and villages in their war with France. They were known to butcher, rape and burn all in their path and were reviled with a passionate hatred as word of their atrocities spread from village to village. All their lives they had had this fear and hatred. Although their village had yet to be disturbed, they could see the toll of these incursions through the refugees passing through from other parts of France. They all felt that it would happen one day to their village; they just hoped they would be able to survive it. Now we understood why they’d been so afraid when we’d first shown up in their barn, and so we tried to gain their trust by working hard and by showing a front of normalcy as much as possible.
Our bodies and minds were under constant stress and so in the evenings we went for long walks, just to talk about our fears or things we missed. No matter where we walked to, we always ended up next to the majestic tree near the stream. It attracted us somehow.
One night, I lagged behind Ailey and Isolda, tired and sore from the day. Isolda was recounting chasing a rabbit that had gotten in the garden. Isabelle screamed at her to catch it, they would have rabbit soup that night. Of course Isolda was conflicted about the prospect; she was a little tired of pea soup but she couldn’t bear thinking about that rabbit in their soup pot. Ailey laughed as Isolda described her chase around the garden, with the rabbit darting here and there just out of her reach. Finally Isolda jumped at the rabbit just as it was squeezing into its hole, but she was a split second too late. Jehanette stood off to the side laughing. She was an intriguing and kind-hearted girl. She could get any animal she wanted to come to her, but in this case, she just stood and watched as Isolda chased the rabbit around. Probably because she didn’t want to eat the rabbit either.
I watched them walking ahead of me, laughing together.
“Ah, what I wouldn’t give for a hot shower and a mattress,” said Ailey.
“And some mint toothpaste,” agreed Isolda.
“Don’t forget a flushing toilet,” I added.
“Yeah, a flushing toilet and toilet paper would be heavenly,” Isolda agreed. They stopped to wait for me to catch up to them. I noticed that Isolda was looking at me, really looking at me, and then she smiled softly.
“Come here, Tristen.” She gestured to me. I walked forward to meet her hand and she hooked arms with mine. Then she leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed. With that, my breathing hitched and I felt a large pain in my chest. I stopped, holding my hand to my chest and then hunched over. Images of the media camped on my lawn taking videos of my dad begging our kidnappers to bring us back while my mom lay weak and near death in her bed ran unsuppressed through my mind and I squeezed my eyes against the pain.
After a moment, Isolda kneeled down beside me and took my hand from my chest and put it against her heart. I felt the slow, steady beat of it and I took a deep breath.
“We can do this together, Tristen. I know it,” she said quietly.
I nodded. She’s right.
I straightened my back and brought my head up and bathed in the warmth of her strength. We began walking quietly, hand in hand, listening to the crickets and the m
uffled sounds our feet made on the grass as the sun set; each of us was lost in our own thoughts.
Yes, we can do this together.
❦
After weeks of working with Jacques and his sons, Jean and Pierre, I began to feel stronger. In a short time my muscles began to develop so that the work wasn’t so hard and I became sturdier. I also learned to be more patient. The sheep were very skittish with me and I had to work with them slowly for them to begin to trust me. I saw how Jacques and his sons patiently took care of the animals, giving them their attention and love. His sons also began to teach me how to defend myself. They explained that even though the area was pretty peaceful so far, you never knew when you would be needed to fight. Jacques had an axe and the boys each carried a hefty staff. They were rudimentary but effective for their needs. A hard whack across the head could cause some serious damage to either people or animals wanting to do them, or their sheep, any harm.
Surprisingly, fighting came to me easily and even though I was no MMA fighter, I learned some moves that would help if it was necessary. They encouraged me to keep practicing and showed me how to use everyday items around me to help. Time passed slowly; every day became a renewal of survival in this rustic world and figuring out a way home.
❦
One day, I was assigned to work alone as I overlooked the animals on a small hill; it was my job to look out for lurking predators or any sheep that might wander off. The weather was perfect and there was a slight breeze that made the grass sway back and forth. I felt mixed emotions; moments like these made me miss my home but I also felt an immense peace, as if everything was right with the world. My eyes caught on a bug crawling in the grass. Its little legs crawled slowly across the grass, blade by blade until it reached its destination. I looked up at the sheep chewing in the meadow. When they were done with their area of grass they moved on to the next spot until they were full.
In a moment of clarity, I realized that something as simple as the grass played such an important role for different things: it showed the direction of the wind, provided a path for the insects, and provided food for the animals. The grass did not complain about its never-ending labor. It continued to grow, to sway, and to otherwise just be what it was meant to be. It didn’t question if the sheep should eat it or if the wind should blow it, or if I should step on it. If the sheep chewed it, well, then it grew back. It just accepted what was and stayed true to itself by doing what nature intended.
I reflected back on my life. Until recently, I, like the grass never really questioned much about my life. However, lately I was constantly questioning myself. Who was I now to my family; when my mom lay sick in bed, who would do the laundry and dishes? Who would make my dad dinner when he came home tired from work or the hospital? Was I strong enough to stand by my mom at her worst while she withered away in her sick bed?
Who was I to Ailey, whose mere presence drew me to her. Was I the kind of person who ignored that if it meant saving Brooks pain? In one year, two years, who would I be to her?
And Isolda. I knew without a doubt who she was to me, but who was I to her? Would this feeling of never-ending passion ever go away? If not, would I ever be able fulfill her needs so that we could be together? I couldn’t even begin to understand what made her tick. Could I ever be the right man for her?
And now, who was I was to Jacques and his family and what had caused me to jump through centuries of time to come here, dragging along with me the two women who meant the world to me? Questions, questions, questions, all plaguing me; they never stopped tormenting my thoughts night and day.
Staring at the grass, as the wind bent it to its will, time seemed to speed up and the grass grew taller before my eyes. I couldn’t answer all those questions right now. I could only do what I knew how to do, and that was to just be me. Even though my life had changed drastically, I was still just Tristen; the same man whether my mom was sick or I was in some crazy never ending dream. Or even whether or not a part of my being, Isolda, was with someone else. I could move with the ebb and flow of life or I could be still and sturdy when someone needed my help. My essence was still the same whether I was home or centuries away.
The day grew darker as I continued to think and soon it was time to go back to the house. I stood up more determined to be what nature intended me to be. Me.
CHAPTER NINE
Isolda, Later on that day:
Tristen walked in the door and my whole body hummed with the anticipation of his presence. He brightened when he saw me and my breathing hitched in my heart. My attraction to him was stronger than ever, even more than the day he swam out to save me from the ripper.
He walked over to smell dinner cooking, and then smiled while he chatted to Isabelle and Jehanette. Then he leaned back against the table, crossing his legs, and was happy just watching them. He looked relaxed and had a brightness about him that I’d never seen before.
He looked…different somehow. A fleeting thought drifted through the back of my mind, but as I tried to reach out to grasp it, it slipped elusively through my thoughts.
I stood closer so that I could study him better and couldn’t help but notice my own reactions to him: the way my heart sang when he smiled or my breathing quickened when he stretched, revealing his rapidly developing body. I was always aware of where he was in the room and heard every word he said. He caught me watching him and I quickly looked away, embarrassed.
“Man, I can’t wait to get out of these dirty clothes,” he said.
Jehanette and Isabelle gave him a strange look; they thought our cleaning habits were excessive, but kept on with their own conversation.
“Here.” I held out my hand. “I’ll wash your shirt so it will be clean tomorrow morning.” Although I was getting used to washing things by hand, I would never be ungrateful for our old rusty washing machine again.
He brightened. “Thanks, Margaret.” He smiled as he pulled his shirt over his head.
My eyes traveled over his face and wandered down toward his chest, but I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from getting caught again. My fingers buzzed as he handed me his shirt and I resisted the impulse to breathe in the musk from the rough fabric until I was out of sight. I forced my feet to turn toward the door and away from him.
❦
One evening, while everyone was preparing to settle down for the night, we heard the signal bell ringing in alarm. Immediately, Isabelle ran to the door and threw it open.
“What’s going on?” she called out but no one answered her.
Villagers from every home were opening their doors, wondering what the trouble was.
“We’ll just have to see for ourselves then.” She walked over to Jacques and held his hands in hers. They said nothing but just searched each other’s eyes in their unspoken language. Jehanette walked toward Catherine and grabbed her by her shoulders. “Catherine, you stay close to me, okay?” She was serious but love shone through her eyes.
We all dressed and walked quickly toward the town square. When we got there we found it eerily lit with glowing torches. An unknown man was on the steps of the church and the shadows on his face emitted a dreadful emotion. Almost everyone in town was now filling the square and the worry and apprehension was palpable.
“I am here on behalf of the only true Church of God and the French King-at-Arms to tell you that your old mad King is dead.” A wave of displeasure roared through the square as people cried out in grief.
“May God rest his soul!” they cried out.
When all had quieted down he went on to explain, “He has sent me here to proclaim his allegiance to Henry, King of France and England, our sovereign lord. Now you, and France, belong to the child King of England. Finally, we will have a strong and stable government and your lives will be more prosperous and happier than ever before.”
His voice began to waver amidst the cries of disgust and rage of the crowd but he urged, “It would do you well to be strong and faithful servants to your new King. Be s
ensible and loyal to your new government; in a little time the armies of the English will finish this war and we will be united again. If we stand together the war will be brief and all will be well again with this country.”
The people raised their fists and shook them at him, crying out in grief and amazement at his audacity. Jehanette was standing between me and Catherine; she stood still and quiet, almost as if in a trance, but you could tell that she was paying close attention to what the priest was saying based on the absolute shock and rage frozen on her face.
“Jehanette,” I whispered. I had never seen such a look of fury from the girl. Never. Even when she was arguing with her father or when she would determinedly patch up someone or something wounded, she always maintained a quiet peacefulness.
She looked at me, really looked at me, deep into my eyes. I could see the angry storm inside her.
She turned to the priest and shouted, “I would I might see thy head struck from thy body!”
In shock I pulled at her arm. “Jehanette!” I exclaimed. If the English King now ruled this village, her proclamation would be seen as a threat by the priest.
She realized what she’d said, crossed herself and amended, “If it were the will of God.” She still had a determined look in her eyes, but it appeared she had only amended her speech to avoid offending God, not the priest.
The priest coolly stared down at her, willing her to defy him again. Her outcry had energized the crowd even more. It also silenced the priest, and the villagers began to talk in groups, filling the void. Isabelle took Jehanette’s hand and led her out of the town square, gently scolding her as they walked. The priest watched her as they left. He walked down the steps, but instead of approaching her, he headed in my direction. I stopped to wait for him, curious what he wanted. However, as the priest drew near, I could feel his cold steely eyes lock onto mine and I suddenly became interested in the hem of my shirt. Isolda grabbed my hand and squeezed it in apprehension. Ailey, who was standing behind us, looked back toward the family — who were already far away — and then she stepped in front of me.
The Last Seeker: Book 1: a teen & YA magical, fantasy, paranormal, & adventure novel (TRISTEN) Page 14