Sorrows of Adoration

by Kimberly Chapman

  I crept up the steps and laced my dress as I went. I knew that there was an exit to the outside near the top of the stairs, since that’s where I had been dragged in. A great wooden door stood closed at the top of the stairs. It had a keyhole, and I peeked through it but saw only darkness beyond. Schooling my hand to not shake and drop the keys and make a racket, I tried them again, one by one, until one of them turned in the lock and I was able to crack open the door.

  I saw no one close by, so I opened the door enough to slip out and then closed it behind me. I locked it again from the outside and then slipped the ring of keys underneath very slowly. I didn’t want to carry them with me, lest they should jingle.

  The room in which I found myself was unlit, and not so much of a room as a walled and roofed courtyard. An archway led outside to my left. I paused before going through, afraid a guard might stand on the other side. But of course, I had no other route to take, and I had not done so much to cower at that point. I thought of my Kurit, whom by then I knew must be mad with worry, and poked my face far enough out of the arch to see if anyone stood there.

  No one did.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the Gods, praying to them to please let me find my way home. Happy to be escaping, I almost ran forward like a fool, stopping short only when I heard voices overhead and realized guards stood on the level above, no doubt armed with typical Wusul spears.

  I peered upwards and could not see them. They did not appear to be looking straight down, and really, why would they, since they were likely supposed to watch for threats coming from the open fields.

  I looked at the sky and remembered Kordos’s lessons on astronomy. The stars that formed a near circle appeared at this time of year in the northern sky. If I could not see them, I knew I’d be facing south.

  The circle was not present that I could see. I was unsure whether I was near the western border with Asune or the eastern with Taeten, but I knew if I went south, I would soon be in my own land again.

  I put myself flush as best I could on the outer wall and crept eastward quickly along it, praying that none of the guards above would chance to look straight below. I moved until I came to a point where stables jutted to the south. Taking a deep breath, I ran the few steps between the wall and the stable, moving quickly into an open and dark stall.

  I paused there and peered around the wall. I saw guards standing about on the upper level, paying not the slightest bit of attention to what went on below. Still, I was cautious as I crept from stall to stall, carefully listening for the sound of a stablehand or other person who might see me and alert the guards.

  I came to the edge of the stables, far enough from the light of the Wusul fortress. I heard the laughter of the guards echo through the air. I crept away, my hands under my great belly to support it.

  Once I was sure I was out of sight, I tried to run, but the bouncing of my belly was too much and I had to stop. So I walked as swiftly as I could, fuelled by fear and the excitement of escape. In my mind I called to Kurit to say I was coming home to him.

  Through dark meadows I walked, always looking and listening behind me, sure my escape would soon be discovered and I would be chased. My heart raced, and despite the chilly late winter’s air, sweat poured down my face.

  On I went, with as much determination as I had felt so long ago travelling from the inn to the outpost. I reminded myself that I had made that trip and lived, and I convinced myself I would do the same now.

  But being so great with child, I tired easily and could not go even a fraction of the speed I had on that long ago night and day. I often found myself having to stop to lean against a tree. I knew I could not afford to lie down to sleep, for the Wusul would find me. So I walked, half-sleeping, trying not to tumble and injure my child.

  I was shocked when daylight began to peek over the horizon. I had been in a stupor as I walked, unaware so much time had passed. I cast a quick glance behind me but saw no one approaching. I moved on until I came across a small grove of trees, several of which had wide bottoms with low branches. Remembering how Kurit and I had slept beneath such a tree as we fled to Endren, I sank to my hands and knees and crawled beneath it. Before I could ponder the wisdom of sleeping there, I was doing so.

  I woke with a start in mid-afternoon. As soon as I remembered where I was, I forced myself to lie still and listen to the sounds around me. Hearing no evidence of men nor horses, I crept out of my hiding place to look around. There was no one to be seen. I wondered if the Gods were smiling upon me and had caused my escape to not yet be discovered. In prayer for my baby, I began to walk again.

  If I was ever pursued, I saw no evidence of it. Perhaps they didn’t know what direction I had gone. Perhaps they didn’t think me worthy of the effort. Or perhaps someone had finally believed I was royalty and had wisely decided to not start a war. I have never learned the answer, and I couldn’t bring myself to care at the time.

  I continued walking as much as I could, though my feet hurt from swelling and from wearing shoes less than appropriate for such a trek. My back suffered a constant ache from the weight of the child I carried, and my only relief was to clasp my hands under my belly and support myself. But I was going home to my beloved Kurit, and that inspired me to continue despite the aches and pains.

  It was still early for spring, so there were few edible plants to be found, but thankfully the mild winter had not covered the fields in snow. Had they been, I would have certainly died from the cold and damp. The ground was mostly dry, hard, and cold, and I was glad of it. But I was starved for food and worried greatly that the child growing in me would suffer if I could not find some.

  I recalled that Kordos had once given me a lesson on edible roots. Though I saw no plant resembling the drawings in his books, I decided it was worth trying the roots of one of the smaller trees. I found a stick and chopped at the frozen ground, my fingers burning with the cold, until I exposed the white flesh of a narrow root. I stabbed it awkwardly with the stick until it was severed.

  I scraped away the dirt with my numb fingers and nails until I was satisfied it was sufficiently clean. Then I bit into it. It was awfully bitter and fell apart in my mouth like revolting mush. But it was not so awful that I felt ill, so I chewed it for some time. I stabbed the ground along its length, pulling more of it out to take with me, hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be poisonous.

  On I went, sampling whatever appeared edible. Most of it tasted bad, but it was better than nothing. I ate roots from trees, handfuls of dried grass from the previous fall, and I even tried some odd, hard seed-like things that hung from some of the needled trees. They were horrible and burned my tongue, so I spit them out and didn’t try them again.

  I remained hungry and thirsty, though the roots I carried with me contained some moisture. I wished for enough nourishment to maintain my strength for walking, which I did half consciously, always making sure to watch the movement of the sun or the locations of the stars to keep heading south.

  On the fourth day, I came across a well-beaten road. By its direction I guessed it to be Northpath, and I was overjoyed to know I must be in Keshaerlan. I recalled my geography lessons, and knew that I had to be in Taeten, as the Northpath lies south of mountains in Alesha and runs through Feleanwood in Asune. I considered taking Northpath, but I knew I would be heading away from Endren if I did so. Furthermore, I would be more likely to be accosted by thieves who lay in wait by the trading routes, especially since the mild weather would prompt merchants to begin their season any day.

  I decided to head southwest, thinking I would inevitably run into some town or other. I thought perhaps I might even find Maellorn if I was fortunate, where I knew Lady Aelwin would help me. I strode forth, inspired by having an idea of where I was. I envisioned myself returning to the palace to fall into Kurit’s dear arms. He would be overjoyed to see me and would kiss me and hold me and likely never let me out of his sight again. The happy thought gave me cause to smile, though I was
of course still concerned for my safety and especially that of my child.

  The days passed as I walked, and though I lost count of them, I am fairly sure it was the tenth or eleventh day that I saw buildings in the distance. My heart sank somewhat as I realized there was no tower or other indication that it would be Maellorn, but I was confident I would be home soon once I found someone to help me.

  The buildings turned out to be quite small, so the town was closer than I had realized, with mountains looming perhaps a day’s walk south of them. I approached the homes eagerly, anticipating a meal and a bed before being taken to Endren. A woman worked to pump water near the outermost building, and I swiftly approached.

  “Please,” I called to her. “Please, I need help.”

  She stopped her work and stared at me with reservation. I came to stand near her, and she cast an eye to my belly, her face turning hard.

  “I am the wife of Prince Kurit. Please, I was abducted from Endren, and I need to get home.”

  She looked at me in disbelief. “The Prince is not wed,” she stated as if it were fact.

  “But he is! I am his wife. I am Princess Aenna.”

  “Who?”

  I saw others come out of their homes to see what was occurring. They stared at me suspiciously once they noticed I was with child.

  “I am Kurit’s wife. I married him last summer. Surely, this cannot be unknown to you?”

  “We have heard of no royal wedding,” said a gruff old man.

  “Granted, it takes a long time for news to reach us,” said the woman who had been pumping the water, “but we would have heard, had there been a wedding.”

  I was dumbfounded. They didn’t know who I was. They had never heard my name. I decided to appeal to their decency instead. “I speak the truth, but even if you doubt me, please, I need help. I am far from home and close to birth.”

  “You’ll not have your bastard child here, harlot!” cried an old woman from her porch. Murmurs of agreement swept those who gawked. There were perhaps fifteen people now.

  “Bastard child?” I repeated, aghast at the idea. “This is the son or daughter of your future King! This child is the next heir to the throne after Kurit!”

  “You speak treason with your lies!” cried the first woman. She bent to the ground, picked up a pebble and hurled it viciously at me.

  Cries of “harlot” and “whore” rung out as the others joined the stoning. I covered my head and turned my back, trying to reason with them. It was clearly to no avail, so I hurried away. They pursued me some distance, casting stones and screaming at me that I would not bring my immorality to their town.

  Finally they stopped their pursuit when I was clearly heading away from their homes. I sobbed in fear and anguish. How could they be so cruel? I was not a whore!

  I found a seat by a great tree and wept for a long time. I was weak, tired, sore, filthy, and so very hungry. In my fatigue, I wondered if I would meet the same fate at any town and decided I could not risk it. I remembered Cael’s invitation to Staelorn, but I was afraid to head directly west and end up crossing through further populated areas. Even if I did, how could I be sure that I would be allowed to see Cael when I arrived? I had no doubt that he would recognize me and help me in an instant, but what if his guards or the guards even of Staelorn refused me admittance?

  I wept desperately, unsure what to do, knowing only that my desire to be at home was overwhelming. I am ashamed now to remember how weak I was, but the truth of it is I was alone and afraid. I cried myself to sleep at the foot of that tree, waking only when the sun was down and a chill settled in. I rose and walked again, afraid I would freeze to death if I did not keep moving.

  Two days later, I was very close to the mountains and came to a wide river at their feet. It was obviously the Great Kal, and I knew I could follow it almost entirely to Endren. So I walked along the shores, my belly growing bigger despite my hunger, and I worried in every moment that my poor child would die inside me because I was not feeding either of us. Every time I felt a kick or movement, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  My weariness and hunger soon made me delirious. At times I thought I heard Kurit’s voice calling my name, and I would look frantically about for him, only to realize I was alone. Knowing I was going mad, I took to talking to my baby, telling him or her about Kurit and Jarik, stories of our wedding and how happy we were. I spoke of how good King Tarken was, and how delighted he would be to behold a grandson or granddaughter. It soothed me to speak out loud, though my paranoia increased nonetheless. Had I actually come across a living soul, I would have hidden myself unless I saw that them to be my husband or Champion.

  In a sad attempt to feed myself, I gathered handfuls of last summer’s grass and twisted it together, braiding the twists into a snare cord. I worked at it as I walked and completed it in good time. Then I realized I had no bait to lay in the snare, nor did I have a knife to gut the carcass of whatever fanciful beast would be attracted to the lack of bait. I screamed out curses in anger and depression and flung the rope into the river, watching in depression as it was carried away by the swift water.

  The days passed, and soon I knew I was close to the time of birth. I wept continuously, certain my child would die as I was far from help, food, or shelter. When my pains and the first flows of birthing fluid began, I knew the time was upon me. I prayed to the Gods to please let my baby live and let me live long enough to take the child home safely.

  In a rare moment of clarity, I gathered together a large pile of grass and old, decayed leaves and set it at the foot of a tree near a part of the river that was reasonably calm, with access to the frigid water. I removed my lower underclothes and tore out the lower layer of my dress. I took several strips from it and laid them to the side, and then I laid out the cloth carefully as well.

  I knelt facing the tree, the pile of soft refuse under me, and gripped the tree hard when the pains hit. As they came closer together, taking with them my remaining energy, I squatted in what was surely an obscene manner and leaned on the tree, letting the weight of the child help me to birth it. Hours felt as months as the pain wracked my whole weakened body.

  I remember little but excruciating pain and hearing myself cry out weakly throughout the birth. I felt helpless and afraid, and I shook with pain and sobs. When finally it was over, I looked down to see a wrinkled, bloody baby boy there, writhing in the soft grass pile.

  Weeping such that I could hardly see, I groped blindly until I felt two of the strips I had torn. I managed somehow to tie them tightly around the cord that protruded from my child’s stomach and then picked up my baby for the first time. I cradled him in my arms but then realized by some miracle of wit that he was not crying. I turned him over and soundly pounded his tiny backside until he spat out fluid and let out a great yell. I had thought him to be dying, and his robust cry was a delight to me. I smiled through my tears as I cradled him and laid myself down on the cold ground once I had passed the placenta. He howled in the cold, so I reached for the cloth I had torn and dried his skin as best I could and then unlaced my dress and put him up against my chest, between my breasts. I wrapped my arms around him in an attempt to warm his tiny body without smothering him. Then I fainted away.

  I awoke some time later in darkness, feeling wet. My infant son had urinated on me, leaving me even filthier than I already was. My legs were wet as well. I panicked when I saw how much blood there was around me. Then I recalled having read a book of midwifery during my biological studies—a book Kordos had condemned as unsuitable for a lady’s reading, which was of course precisely what made me want to read it. The book had said a great deal of blood was to be expected after the placenta had been delivered, and I managed to convince myself I was not bleeding to death. This was easier once I considered the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it, even if I was.

  Recalling the book also made me realize I had more to do. I had to find sharp stones with which to cut between the tie
s I’d made on the cord, and I had to clean up the area before we were smelled by beasts of prey. It was reasonable to assume there might be wolves in this area of Keshaerlan.

  It took great effort to sit myself up against the tree. I found some stones by the river’s edge and used them to do a ragged but complete job of cutting the cord that had bound my son to myself in my womb. He cried in the cold, breaking my heart with the shrillness of it. I cast the pile of refuse, which held the placenta and most of my blood, into the river, hoping the moving scent would distract any predators.

  While at the river’s edge, I washed the cloth I had torn and wiped some of the blood from myself. I rinsed the cloth again when I was done and then placed it under one of my arms to warm it. When it was no longer freezing cold, I tried again to wash the poor little infant as I lay by the tree with him once more.

  The washing made him cry again. I cooed at him softly, moving his little mouth to my breast when I was done. I could not recall from the book if there would be anything there for him yet or not. I hoped simply that I had eaten enough that there would be nourishment for him eventually.

  His skin felt so cold, and I panicked as to what to do for him. I put my dirty, matted hair over him and pulled the cloth I had used to clean him over him as best I could. His mouth found my nipple and began to suckle immediately, and I slept once more.

  Chapter 12

  FOR SEVERAL DAYS I remained where I had given birth to recuperate, fearful that if I began my journey home again too soon I would be too weak to succeed. I ate what I could of old grasses strewn about, knowing I gained no nutrition from them, but just needing something in my empty belly. I began to menstruate, which made me an even further mess, as I had nothing with which I could properly tend to it. I suffered from a depression unlike I’d ever known at being so filthy, helpless, and alone.