by Barb Hendee
“So that I might be given back to Royce?” I asked. “No. I’ve no wish for that.”
“Then is there is somewhere else you wish to go?”
I pondered the question. Where else would I go? I couldn’t return to the manor, and I’d never been anyplace else. “No.”
Perhaps he’d simply wanted me to see the truth.
“Good then,” he said. “So you accept that this is now your home, that Caine and I are your family?”
Gripping the warm mug, I allowed this reality to sink in. For better or worse, I was home. “Yes.”
Caine must have begun to understand this discussion as well, and cast his grandfather a look of gratitude.
“All right then,” Tristan said, cracking an egg and peeling it. “We must repair the damage done by Brida. Caine is a good deal more respected here than she realizes. He’s in no danger of losing his status among the people. But Kara is another matter.”
“I won’t be trusted at all now,” I said.
Tristan pushed my letter toward Caine. “Look at this.”
Caine scowled. “Why would I want to look at that?”
“To see the words, to see the handwriting.”
Puzzled, Caine picked up the letter.
While he was reading it, Tristan said. “Logan has suggested that next year, we stop the raids, and I am inclined to agree with him.”
This conversation was jumping around so quickly I couldn’t guess where it was going.
But Caine glanced up and nodded. “So am I. He’s wrong in some things, but not this. The raids are a leftover tradition from the old days, and they pose too much risk.”
“So, if we end the raids,” Tristan said, “the only contact we’ll have with the outside world is via Raven’s group of travelers. They will become more important.”
“Why?” Caine asked.
“Because our people, our children, need contact with the outside. I may not agree with how you brought Kara here, but the fact that you did proves our people do not always have enough choices. We have a number of fine young women here, and yet you wanted someone else. You had access to the outside. Our other young people deserve choices. They need to know there is something beyond this settlement.”
“And how do we do this?” Caine asked.
“First by preparing them. Kara knows many things we do not. You see that letter? I thought myself a fair writer, but I cannot write anything like that.” He turned to me. “Can you write numbers? Can you add written numbers and subtract them?”
“Yes, of course.”
I still had no idea where he was going with this.
“You know the old abandoned house near the stream?” Tristan asked Caine.
“Yes.”
“I want you to help Kara turn it into a school. I want her to teach the children skills they’ll need to know and about the people outside of this place. Then…next year, if some of our young people wish to see more of the world, we’ll send them with Raven and allow them travel.”
“But you founded the settlement so that most of us might stop traveling,” Caine answered, “so we might have a safe place all our own.”
“I know. But in some things, I may have been wrong.” Tristan’s eyes rested on me. “I see that now, and I need to adjust our path before it’s too late.” Reaching out, he touched my hand. “There are others here who feel as I do. If the people can see that you’ll use your skills to help our children, they will begin to trust you again.”
I had no experience being a teacher, but I trusted Tristan, and if he wanted me to try, I would.
“Show me this abandoned house.”
Chapter Eighteen
Caine and I spent the next two days working on the old house, but we worked in secret.
“Logan will fight this idea,” Caine said. “So we must keep it quiet until Grandfather is ready to tell the people.”
From what I’d seen of Logan, I agreed.
I cleaned the inside while Caine mended the roof. The chimney of the hearth was blocked, and he used a long pole to break through and try to clean out the residue so that we might have a heat source. Then he brought tables, benches, and chairs, and we arranged them so they faced the front of the room.
Lady Giselle had been my tutor, and she’d taught me well, but our lessons had been one-on-one. I wondered about teaching a larger group.
“I’ll need to teach the children the alphabet,” I said. “I’ll need to show them the written letters. The settlement has some paper in the stores, but it’s not enough, and using it up wouldn’t be efficient.”
“How did you learn to write?”
“When I was young, I had a slate and chalk.” Walking to the front of the room, I said, “But with so many students, at first it would be better to have a large piece that could be seen by everyone at the same time.”
He put a hand to his chin.
The next day, he carried in a large, slender piece of dark shale—about the size of a door—and he built a stand for it.
“It’s perfect,” I said when he’d finished. “Where did you get it?”
“There’s a quarry not far into the forest. Come out with me and we’ll see about chalk.”
Together, we walked through the trees.
Over the past few days, Caine had rarely spoken of anything other than the tasks upon which we worked, but I couldn’t help asking, “Do you approve of this idea of Tristan’s? To educate the children and let them travel with Raven if they wish?”
“I do. He’s right that too many of us have become too cut off, too set in the idea that nothing exists below that chute. It’s not a healthy way to live.”
I smiled. “You’ll make a good leader.”
At that, he stopped and put one hand in front of me. “You think so?”
“Of course I do. You think beyond only what you want. You care for the needs of others.”
As he studied me, my response seemed to shame him, and he began walking again. “There’s a short cliff not far from here with a chalk face. I can cut out some pieces.”
* * * *
That evening, we let Tristan know we were ready.
I’d not been among any of the women to help with the work in the past few days, and the three of us had eaten dinner at home, but that night, I accompanied Caine and Tristan to the common house. When we walked in, a number of people glanced in our direction. Logan, Brida, and their boys were at our usual family table.
Tristan wasted no time and walked to the hearth of the vast room.
“I have something to say,” he called.
Silence fell. Instinctively, I moved closer to Caine, but we remained in place near the front door.
“I have spoken at length with Kara,” Tristan continued, “and I understand that she meant no harm by trying to send out a message. She sought to bring no one here, only to reach out to someone who had been left behind, as any of you might have done.”
Unable to stop myself, I glanced at Brida. Her eyes were like glass as she listened.
“We are fortunate that Kara possesses skills many of us do not,” Tristan continued. “She reads and writes much better than myself, and to show her desire to be useful here, she has agreed to teach our children to read and write as well as she does. She’s offered to teach them to write numbers. Caine has repaired the old house by the stream to create a school.”
Murmurs broke out all around the common house, and Caine observed reactions. Some people were appalled, but many appeared interested.
“This will be a choice for each family.” Tristan said. “But tomorrow morning, if it is your wish, send your children to the schoolhouse.”
With that, he limped toward our table, leaving everyone else buzzing at this news.
“I’ll get dinner,” I told Caine.
“You get the f
ood,” he said, “and I’ll get drinks. I know you want only water.”
Somehow, I had a feeling he wished to avoid the family table as long as possible. But moments later, we were dished up and had no choice but to sit with Logan and Brida. Tristan seemed determined to pretend that nothing was amiss, but Logan had not touched his stew.
“A school, Grandfather?” he asked.
“Yes,” Tristan answered. “A school.”
“My boys will not be there.”
“Then Kara won’t expect them in the morning.”
* * * *
The next morning, I stood in the schoolroom with nerves in my stomach. What if no one arrived? Worse, what if they did? Since last night, I’d been calling on the memories of myself as a child, and the methods Lady Giselle had used to teach me.
The tables, chairs, and benches were in place. The dark slate was positioned on its stand in the front of the room. I had numerous pieces of chalk ready, and yet I hoped I’d be able to do this. Tristan had suggested that I hold school for only about two hours in the beginning, as that would be enough time for the young students to absorb information without becoming frustrated or bored. Plus, some of the older children had duties and chores to perform elsewhere.
The door opened, and several children entered. I knew a few of the younger ones from the common house, but then a girl of about eleven entered the room. I’d never spoken to her but had seen her in the common house, as she was just becoming old enough to take her part with the women in their work. As opposed to black, her hair was a shade of chocolate brown. Then a boy of about fifteen walked in. This did take me aback slightly, as he was a head taller than me with arms that showed the developing muscles of a man.
He looked just as nervous as I felt.
“Welcome,” I said. “Please sit anywhere you like.”
Once everyone was settled, and it seemed that no more students would come through the door, I counted fourteen children. The youngest was about seven, and the oldest was the tall boy.
“Some of you already know me,” I said, “but I don’t know everyone here. Perhaps you could tell me your names?”
The tall boy was sitting up front, and my gaze dropped to him.
“Trace,” he said quietly.
I nodded. One by one they gave me their names. The brown-haired girl was Isabella. Something about her kept my attention. As opposed to nervous, she appeared eager. But after everyone had completed an introduction, it was time for me to begin.
“Sometimes, people refer to writing as ‘drawing sounds’ but this only means that certain symbols can represent a sound.”
At their puzzled expressions, I realized I was already talking over their heads, so I turned to the slate and wrote out the alphabet, sounding out each letter as I wrote it. Then I taught the children the names of the letters and had them practice with different sounds each letter might make.
This took a while, but they remained engaged, and when we had exhausted this, I used a cloth to wipe the slate clean and then called them all up to join me—as there were only fourteen of them. I gave everyone a piece of chalk and helped them to write letters. This was an active exercise, and they enjoyed it.
Isabella caught on quickly, and I soon had her helping the smaller children. This pleased her. Our time nearly flew by and near the end, Trace wrote the word “dog” on the slate and sounded it out.
Looking down at me, he asked, “This means I know how to write?”
“Yes. You know how to write.”
His face broke into a smile.
* * * *
After the children left, I straightened the classroom and headed off to the common house to help with the baking. I felt I’d been lax in my work with the other women.
As I arrived, I saw Trace speaking with Charlotte, and his face was animated. She patted his back and sent him on his way down the path toward the barn, but at the sight of me, she put her hands on her hips.
“Well, young Kara,” she said. “You’ve won over my grandson, Trace. He just told me he knows how to write. I’d no idea he longed for such things.”
“Perhaps he didn’t know such things existed,” I answered.
“Perhaps.”
We walked into the common house, and inside, Isabella was speaking to a thin, middle-aged woman in the same animated manner. Of course I’d seen this woman before, but few of the women here actually spoke to me. As I took my place at a table to begin making dough, the thin woman approached.
“That’s my girl, Isabella,” she said.
“She’s very bright,” I answered, “the best student in the class.”
“Is she?” The woman glanced away. “My name is Martene…and I thank you.”
Nodding, I reached for the flour, and several other women who’d never spoken to me before came to join us.
Only Brida pretended I did not exist.
* * * *
The next morning, as the students practiced writing letters and words on the slate, I wondered about the possibility of acquiring smaller, individual slates. Caine had said there was a quarry nearby. I would speak with him about this.
Our time for the morning was nearly over when I had Isabella write the word “king” on the slate.
A younger girl, named Zoë pulled at my sleeve. “Kara, what is a king?”
All the children turned to hear my answer. Nonplussed, I said, “The king rules the nation.” Upon seeing their confused expressions, I added. “He is a leader.”
“Oh,” Isabella said, “like Tristan.”
“Well…yes, but not quite like Tristan. King Amandine rules all of Samourè.”
“What is Samourè?” Trace asked.
Oh, dear, I thought. Then I made a mental note to plan a few careful lessons on both geography and the functions of the national government. I had no maps, but I could draw one. This would be a worthwhile use of paper and ink.
“Samourè is the nation in which we live,” I explained. “And the king normally lives in a castle in the city of Lascaùx.”
“What’s a castle?” Isabella asked.
“What’s a city?” Zoë asked.
Suddenly, I understood why Tristan wanted them to receive some education before attempting any travels with Raven.
“A city is a large place where many people live,” I answered.
“What does it look like?”
Now there, Zoë had me. I might have been educated in some areas, but like all of the children here, I had been raised in one limited place and never even visited a village.
But then a movement in the doorway caught my eye, and I looked over to see Caine and Logan standing there, watching us. Logan’s entire body was tense, but Caine wore a wry smile as he observed me floundering.
Some retribution seemed fair.
“I myself have never visited a city,” I said, “but Caine has certainly seen a few, and he would be glad to explain them. Caine, come in and tell us about cities.”
All the children turned to him expectantly. Startled, he flashed me an annoyed glance and said, “Another time maybe. But it’s past lunch, and we’ve come to fetch you. We need Trace up on the barn roof.”
“Oh,” I answered. “Is it that late? I am sorry.”
Quickly, I ushered the children toward the door. Logan stared at me as if I were an insect he longed to step on. Then he turned and walked off by himself, not waiting for Caine.
I sighed.
“Don’t mind him,” Caine said. “He has a hard time with change. But he respects Grandfather’s wishes. He’ll come around.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but as today was laundry day, I needed to straighten up the schoolroom and get to the common house.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I told Caine.
He stood close, and for just an instant, I thought he was going
to kiss the side of my face. Instead, he straightened.
“Yes, I’ll see you tonight.”
He left.
* * * *
Once I had the schoolroom back in order and ready for the next day, I hurried toward the common house. But one of my normal laundry duties was to help hang the clothing out back, so I walked up the back side of the settlement, near to the tree line. My mind was busy with thoughts on how I might present new ideas and concepts to the children.
While distracted, I didn’t notice a shadow near a tree until I was almost on top of it, and then someone large stepped out to block my path.
It was Logan.
Glancing around, I realized the two of us were alone, and this made me anxious.
“Excuse me,” I said quietly, moving to step around him.
He moved with me, not allowing me to pass.
“I want you to close the school,” he said.
This was the first time he’d ever spoken directly to me. He’d often spoken about me to others while in my presence, but never to me, and from the strain in his voice now, I sensed it was difficult for him.
However, I had no intention of speaking with him on this matter. “You’ll need to speak to your grandfather of this, not to me. I’m only following his request.” Again, I tried to move past him.
This time, he stopped me by holding out his arm. “No. I’m speaking to you. You will tell Grandfather that you’ve no wish to continue with the school, that it’s too much for you. He won’t force you to continue.”
What a coward he was, and a bully. I’d sometimes seen Lord Jean bully my lady. I hadn’t liked it then, and I didn’t like it now.
“No,” I said. “If you want the school closed, you talk to Tristan yourself.”
“Can’t you see what you’re doing?” he asked angrily. “I was there today! I saw you. You are poisoning our children’s minds, making them see false visions of the world outside, making it look desirable as opposed to the dark, filthy place it is.”
His eyes were manic, with a kind of madness in their depths. Stepping in, he towered over me.
“Tell my grandfather you want to close down the school.”
“No.”