by Erme Lander
Alma was constantly excited, talking about the wedding. Asking her questions about her new husband, many of which she couldn’t answer. Telling Mika about all the things she would see, that she should write to her when she got to her new home. Mika found her chatter irritating, she knew Alma was hurt by her indifference, she was almost glad when another appointment came to interrupt them.
Alma contrived to be around in the entrance hall when Rylan arrived one day so she could see him and giggled behind her hand at Mika’s formal greeting. Alma found Rylan fascinating, his dark hair, his bright blue eyes made her own sparkle with delight. Rylan in turn found it difficult to take his eyes off the creamy plait curling from underneath Alma’s stole.
Mika watched everything as though in a dream, unsure how it could be happening to her. She and Alma had spoken of marriage from time to time, most girls of her age did, but this was too sudden. She’d always assumed she’d marry a boy from her own country. It was a small population, spread out over distances. Boys would go looking for a bride from different parts of the country, it was accepted that they would work in a strange town or village while looking. It was an adventure for most. The richer boys would have placements found for them, hints about a girl’s suitableness made and the parents watching to make sure proprieties where observed. There were the occasional elopements, talked about in whispers, two lovers running away to live in the wilds until no one could dispute their marriage.
Still, she’d expected to marry one of her own. She couldn’t even expect her mother to come and visit, Mika knew better than to ask. A few times a year her mother visited family, nothing else. Her father might come on the way to and from his duties, but that was it. A homesickness poured through her, twisting her stomach, stopping her eating.
Watching her one morning, picking at her food, her mother snapped at her father, “She needs to know something.” She turned back to Mika. “Your brother shamed us. I will not tell you the how, but it is partly our fault. You know that your father and I are related.”
Mika nodded, they certainly looked alike and yet, most people in their country looked similar. Tall and blonde with green or blue eyes, it was the norm for the small country. Her mother was unusual in having darker hair, like many of the royal family she was related to. Most were white blond like her father. Not many people took partners from outside the borders. Until recently those borders had been closed.
“We should never have married.” Her mother looked embarrassed, her father stared at the wall. “I forced the issue. We were allowed to stay together on the condition that our children would marry out of the country, to dilute the blood.”
Mika stared, how could her brother shaming them be connected with their marriage?
“There are certain problems that arise when our people marry too closely Mika. We were not expecting it with your brother. He was old for it to happen. It has not been documented for so long...we had hoped...” Her voice trailed off. Composing herself again she carried on, “Mekhi has been good enough to look past your brother’s disappearance, there are things even he does not know. He will get good contacts from your father and a handsome dowry for you. I am sorry it is happening so quickly, but it must.”
“But what happened to Kaylan?” She was desperate to prise her fingers under her parent’s imposed silence. “Why...”
Her mother’s chin went up. “No more.” The flash in her eye silenced her. Even Mika wasn’t so wilful as to cross her mother in a temper. Mika ground her teeth, Alma had tried to get her to talk about her brother. She’d refused as flatly as her mother had now, given excuses not to talk. She didn’t want to think that she might never see Kaylan again. She ached under her scab of indifference.
She was followed by her father as she left the room.
“Please don’t judge your mother by what she can not tell you Mika.” Her father’s voice was soft.
“Why not?”
“Some things hurt too much, even now.” He looked over his shoulder at the open door, a hopeless look in his face. Unprepared for her father’s vulnerability, she twisted away from him and walked swiftly down the corridor, determined to hold onto her own upset.
She only had the deep night to herself. Alma slept in the room with her, bouncing with good intentions. Mika was often so tired she fell asleep immediately on hitting the pillow, cutting Alma off in mid sentence. Despite that, her dreams were disturbed, those she could remember. Dreams of pacing through undergrowth, looking for something, her head swinging from side to side. The woods around her were full of life, everything in motion. All to be noted and filed, every sound, every rustle. She found herself looking forwards to sleeping, the only escape she had from being squeezed into the mould of bride and lady.
The wedding day came too soon for Mika. Tense with nerves, she woke early for once and tiptoed out of the room. Alma was breathing lightly, curled into a ball on her bed next to the wall. Mika slipped into the garden before the servants saw her, enjoying the respite. The sun had risen, the dew fresh on the grass, the wind rippling through the trees beyond. She was light headed, not believing this would be her last day here.
She’d dressed without thinking, slid into her old clothes, a tunic and trousers left over from her brother. They’d been stuffed into a pile under her bed, dusty from the weeks of not wearing them. She stretched her legs and revelled in the freedom to walk properly, not having to worry about how her dresses were draped and having them catch her stride.
Her boots became damp from the dew as she walked to her favourite spot, a bench close to the wall and she sat, enjoying the coolness. The sun’s light warmed the red tiles of the house. The cook house’s fire had just been lit, dark smoke hung in the air, misting the deeper green of the broad leafed forest behind. A sigh escaped her, the smell of grass, the calls and distant laughter of the guards changing over. Home, secure in the garden her mother tended, coaxing the plants to do their best in the poor soil. Flowervines clambered and humped over the trellis fencing between the paths, a tiny stream sparkled around carefully placed boulders, the cream walls of the house and small deep windows. Tears prickled her eyes at the thought of leaving.
Leaning against the wall, she wondered what would happen if she climbed the wall and ran away. The idea tugged at her. It would be easy, the wall wasn’t high. Leave this whole business behind, live as she wanted to. The idea expanded, filling the whole of her, becoming a longing, a desperation. To stride through the woods, like in her dreams, a tingling passed over her skin and she shivered.
The tugging ceased as she heard her mother call and the scent of the flowervines filled her nostrils. Her mother was looking for her. She stayed quiet. The consequences of running? Whilst she was headstrong, she wasn’t stupid. She didn’t know enough about surviving out there. She’d be found and brought back in disgrace. Whether she would marry after that, she didn’t know, but there would be punishment.
Mika sighed again and stood, she had to go through with this, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He was good looking in his own foreign way, maybe they could learn to love one another or at least respect each other. Her mother saw her coming out and she realised from the unguarded expression on her face that similar thoughts had been running through her mother’s head.
Expecting a scolding for being in her old clothes, she was surprised to receive a hug and have fingers run through her hair. “I will remember you like this. Do not forget yourself.” Mika found the concept ominous considering she was expected to marry out and be someone she wasn’t.
She was too nervous to eat much at lunch. They got ready for the ceremony slowly. Alma’s laughter was forced at times. Mika’s head was tight, aware the time they had together was fast disappearing. Her little sisters sat on the bed, watching her with big eyes, a stranger in her new dresses.
At last mid afternoon came. Her father arrived, looking impressive in his court uniform, not broad, but tall enough to appear imposing. Mika stared, she’d never seen him dressed so
splendidly. He gave a smile at her surprise, held her hand and kissed her cheek.
Her mother checked her over one last time and nodded. She was dressed simply in contrast to Mika. Her darker hair, connecting her closely to the royal family, was enough to convey her status in way that rich fabrics and jewellery could not. Her father offered his arm and walked Mika to the hall. It was decorated with boughs, a fire in the hearth, twined flowervines around the pillars – her mother’s touch.
Mika stared in front of her, fingers gripping her father’s arm as they walked, not wanting to see the priest and the few cousins waiting near the back of the hall. She concentrated on breathing, light-headed. The trader and his son stood in their places by the priest. She spoke the words in a daze, heard Rylan say his part. The priest made the ritual cuts on each of their left hands and joined them together with a silken rope. The ceremony was brief and all to soon she belonged to someone else.
They moved to the inn where the trader was staying. More symbolic to Mika than the ceremony – she was no longer part of her own family. A meal in the evening, plenty of food, music and storytelling, most of it passed in a blur. The trader sat, fat and pleased, talking to her father and eating hugely. Faces swam in front of her, she gazed at the walls, nibbling at her food. Her new husband sat next to her, paid her attention by offering her food and wine. She picked at the bandage covering her left hand. The small amount of wine she’d drunk had gone to her head, abruptly she wanted her mother. She couldn’t see her. Mika looked around with blurring eyes and panic rising, where was she? Someone said something close by, she blinked and turned.
“Are you tired? Would you like to leave?” Mika hiccuped in surprise and he smiled indulgently. Her husband. She nodded, she wanted to get out of here, run away and be somewhere quiet where she could think. He stood proudly, offered his elbow and walked her out, flushing to the cheers of the guests.
The upstairs was cool and dim. The best room had been set aside for them, more luxurious than any of her parent’s rooms. Her eyes lost themselves in the furnishings. Unused to the richness, Mika was pleased her father had insisted on the wedding ceremony being at their house and not in this strange place. She jumped. A mouth on hers. Hands pulling at her clothing, trying to find a way in. Not rough, but insistent. Numb, she obediently helped him and refused to think about what was happening to her body.
She lay in bed afterwards, she needed a wee. Rylan was sprawled with an arm across her. Mika slid out, went to the privy and cleaned herself. He disturbed as she got back in, pulled her close, muttering sleepily. She stared at the canopy as he settled down having reassured himself that she was still there. Her body wasn’t her own, or her life.
Mika supposed the man and wife thing hadn’t been too bad. It had been businesslike, a brisk transaction that she felt she’d come worse off in and with the faint sense of injustice she wondered if that was all there was to it.
She twisted slightly, she ached inside. She hadn’t expected this feeling of being used and owned by someone. Alma had asked about it and she’d brushed her off, not wanting to think too closely. She’d been aware of the mechanics for years, seen animals and her brother had always been talking to his friends about this maid or that. Her brother. Tears rose and she cried quietly into her pillow. Lost, both her brother and her family. She sought solace in her dreams, running through the dark forests.
Chapter 3
In the morning, she was allowed to get up after he’d had his way again. Mika hesitantly tried for a bit more enthusiasm this time and he’d looked a little puzzled at her attempts. A discreet knock and murmur announced breakfast had been laid in the other room.
Breakfast was awkward, he was still a stranger, albeit one who had knowledge of her body. She nibbled a few slices of fruit and drank water. She watched as he ate heartily and wondered how long it would take for him to get as large as his father. She imagined him that size and on top of her and put the slice of fruit down.
“You should eat more.” Mika jumped. “There’s nothing to you. You should eat.” He gestured to the table. She shook her head, she’d never been a breakfast person. “You will be hungry later, we will be travelling far today.”
“How far?”
Rylan looked flustered, “A long way, further than you’ve ever been. You will ride in the cart like a lady.”
How did he know how far she’d been? And she’d rather ride. Mika nearly snapped at him, then closed her mouth, remembering her mother. She had to behave, she was a married woman now. There was an uncertain look in his eye, he’d caught the flash of temper and she hurriedly asked about the journey, thinking of questions he shouldn’t have any problems in answering. Allowed to demonstrate his superior knowledge, he calmed, beginning to boast about the deals and fabrics they’d gathered.
Downstairs, Mekhi was complaining about the state of his head in between giving orders to the mule drivers and guardsmen. Rylan left her at the door to stand next to his father while he grumbled over the chaos. Mika looked around at the milling animals and people in the courtyard feeling the panic rise again. Leaving and without a chance to say goodbye.
She caught a flash of familiar house colours – her father’s guards, and was swept into her mother’s embrace before she could think. Her mother carefully wiped her eyes with the edge of her own stole and arranged Mika’s scarf closer over her face. “You will remember?” Mika nodded, she was a grown up, she had to behave. She cuddled her little brother and sisters close before standing to hug her father.
He pulled her into his arms, looking worried and proud, “You look like your mother when I first met her.” Her smile trembled and he walked her over to Rylan. “She will ride today.” Rylan looked surprised. Her smile widened, with her father giving the orders they would not dare disagree.
With yet more grumbling from Mekhi, a small pony was found and an awkward looking side saddle put on. Rylan helped her on as though she were made of glass and fussed over placing her foot in the stirrup. Mika saw the gleam of amusement in her father’s eyes. He knew of the time she’d ridden the stud, owned by the family neighbouring their fields, with nothing more than a halter line on, for a bet with her brother. He also knew about the beating Kaylan had received from the owner and taken without complaint because of the mistaken identity. He knew she was more capable of riding the feisty horses ridden by their guardsmen than her husband. She kept her mouth shut and accepted the help.
Mika waved goodbye as they finally moved off. A train of mules followed them, piled high with rolls of material and the cart with her baggage. She twisted to keep waving and her last glimpse was of her mother burrowing her face into her father’s shoulder as they turned to walk back to the inn.
The side-saddle gave her backache. She desperately wanted to get rid of it, even riding bareback was better than this. The pony was gentle, needing little guidance from her as it trotted along with the other horses. Patches of shade and sunshine dotted the road. Mika strained to hear the birds calling and the breeze rustling the leaves above the bellowing of the mules in the train. She gazed into the forest, trying to spot any of the shy wildlife. Rylan mistook her interest for concern. When he told her that she didn’t need to worry about wild animals, she nearly snorted with laughter. Nothing would come near them with the amount of noise they were making.
After a morning’s ride she was pleased to stop for lunch. Mekhi made noises about her travelling in the cart, riding a horse was not a fit occupation for a married woman as far as he was concerned. Taking a deep breath, Mika smiled and agreed. She tolerated the jouncing around while looking at the countryside. Her back continued to ache, a deep pain from sitting straight and not fidgeting. Even her mother rode astride when travelling, wearing wide legged trousers and boots. She was as capable and tough as Mika when she chose to be.
Both riding side saddle and sitting in the cart were uncomfortable, she was starting to see why Fenin women didn’t travel. Thick forest surrounded them, rich and vivid, similar
to her dreams the previous night. She gazed around to distract herself, storing up the views to add to her night time excursions.
It took several days of travelling to reach the mountain border, staying at the finest inns and being looked after wherever they ended up. Mekhi would announce himself to the innkeeper as they arrived. He expected the best of everything, allowed himself to be pampered and came down late every morning with an aching head. Rylan followed his father’s example, coming late to their bed and waking her with his clumsy intentions.
Mika knew her father always insisted on travelling quietly, with no fuss and dealing with his own horses, not expecting his guards to do anything that he wouldn’t. Sleeping rough if he had to. He considered it a mark of pride that he could keep up with any of his guards. She, on the other hand, was treated as though she were delicate. A porcelain cup, to be admired as something important, too expensive to be used.
She was not included in the trade talks, although she listened hard to any conversation around her. When she’d mentioned her opinions on the second night to her new husband, he’d simply stared, then laughed and told her not to worry herself about men’s business. She shrugged his amusement off, determined to prove her usefulness.
Nobody spoke to her during the day, unless it was Rylan asking if she needed anything. The guards and mule handlers stayed apart and Mekhi ignored her now she rode in the cart. The countryside made up for the deficiency in company. She’d never been this far from her home before. Her dreams were a tapestry of leaves and boughs, the sounds and smells intoxicating. She expressed her delight in the mountains, only to be chuckled at by the men. Mika became quieter as she realised anything she said would be discounted. Feeling lost, for the first time in her life, her opinions didn’t matter.