When the ship was ready to sail, Briah was reluctant to leave. But she had a job to do. As she left, she gave her largest piece of gold to the priestess, who said only, “You are welcomed among us anytime,” then bid her farewell in the name of her goddess.
The ship smelled terrible after the freshness of the shrine, but at least this captain had no qualms about allowing Briah to ride with him in exchange for two pieces of silver. To her relief, there were other passengers as well, including a young woman her own age, traveling with her escorts to an arranged marriage in a land even farther south than Gaul. The cargo consisted only of fine gold jewelry and red clay pots, but Briah had nightmares of her first sea journey every time she closed her eyes. She took to sleeping on the deck, rather than below, even though it rained throughout the voyage. The crew found her odd, but left her alone.
****
They reached the mainland at sunrise. The first thing Briah noticed when she wobbled onto dry land was a warm wind filled with the scent of new life. Eirann might still be in the grips of winter, but here in the south, spring was in full flower. The sudden rush of longing Briah felt at the sight and smell and feel of the inland forests shocked her. For so long, only the smell of the sea, and the gentle roar of waves could make her happy. Yet here she was, standing near the fields beside the settlement, staring east as if the village of her childhood might suddenly come into view.
Shaking off her reverie, Briah went into the harbor town, nearly identical to Finool. Here she found a caravan about to head east to the trading town of Barhan. She vaguely recalled the place from her journey west as a captive. It was nearly halfway between here and her destination. If she could travel that far, under the protection of a caravan…
Cautiously, Briah regarded the company as they loaded tin and grain and amber onto the backs of oxen, while she pretended to examine pieces of blue and green striped cloth in a nearby stall.
The merchants were a rough bunch, not very different from the sailors with whom she arrived. From the dialects that buzzed around her, Briah caught one or two she recognized. One merchant, a stout graybeard who seemed too old for such a journey, was arguing with a young flint knapper about the quality of some merchandise, and swearing with impressive fluency. A younger man, just entering middle years was supervising the final loading. Besides the two older merchants, Briah counted three young men, and a boy who appeared to be a slave.
She looked for women but found none. The journey was a short one; perhaps these men planned on doing their own cooking, and sating their physical needs when they reached the town. Still, Briah thought, being the only woman in such a company would be dangerous.
If it were even possible. She had little experience with merchant caravans, except as part of the merchandise. Even if female merchants existed, Briah could hardly pass herself off as a one. If she was going to join this group, she had to have some kind of plausible story.
Perhaps she should consider offering herself to them as a whore in exchange for passage to Barhan. That, she knew, was common enough. But even as she thought of it, Briah knew she would never live like that again; not even for a few days. Not even if it would get her to Lir.
Commotion nearby interrupted the wave of anger Briah felt at the entire situation. The lead merchant was arguing with several people over an old woman, who stood between them, staring vacantly towards the ocean.
At first, Briah thought she was a slave being bartered for, and nearly walked away. Taking a closer look, however, she saw the woman was no slave. Her dress was of fine wool, dyed deep saffron—a common color among widowed matrons in many places Briah had been. The colorful glass necklace and bracelets she wore were old and well cared for, as though they had long rested on the same neck and arms. But it was her demeanor that caught Briah’s attention: an anger and bitterness that Briah remembered in herself.
Drifting closer, Briah heard the argument, and learned that the woman was a recent widow who had borne no children. The people shouting at the merchant were relatives of her dead husband, who didn’t want the burden of her care. They were trying to convince the merchants—one of whom was apparently a kinsman—to take the woman back to the village of her birth, just outside Barhan.
Cowrie shells were being used as a medium of exchange. The dead man’s brother offered five to the head merchant. The merchant shook his head and held up ten fingers. This resulted in the family members shouting something about doing the right thing out of the goodness of their hearts, when they could just leave the old woman right here without paying a thing. The merchant replied with a complaint about lost profits for the slower pace the woman would cause, and that only his duty to his family made him willing to make the sacrifice.
Finally, however, an agreement was reached. Shells changed hands, and the family departed without a farewell to their sister in law.
Briah saw her opportunity. She pushed aside the pity she felt for the old woman—plenty of time for that if she was successful. Boldly, she approached the lead merchant.
“What do you want?” he snapped, after appraising her body.
“I need to travel east. I would like to buy safe passage with your caravan, as that old woman did. I can also help care for her, so she won’t slow you down as much.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “How would you do that?”
“I have some skill as a healer. The herbs I carry can ease her joints so they move faster—and yours as well. Long walking is wearying. I can help.”
“Renulf!” called one of the younger merchants. “We are ready to leave on you’re order.”
The leader glanced again at Briah, then shook his head. He turned and began to walk back to his men.
“I can pay,” said Briah, holding up a small piece of silver. This time, she kept a tight grip on it, holding it just out of reach.
Renulf turned back to Briah. “Why is a woman traveling all alone, with silver, and seeking passage east in a hurry?” And who’s going to stop me from taking advantage of it, Briah could almost hear him thinking.
She met his eyes and said evenly, “I’m a woman who some very stupid men thought they could make into a slave and carry off to a far land.” Casually, she lifted her knife from her belt and began to pick her teeth with it.
An eyebrow lifted. “And what happened?”
“One of them is food for the ravens, on a beach south of here. The other lives—but he won’t be raping any more women.” She grinned at the merchant, and twisted her knife just slightly as she slid it back into its sheath. “Either way, I don’t think they’ll begrudge me some of their silver as compensation for the insult they offered me. All I want now is to return to my family.”
Renulf shifted uneasily for a moment, then, as if aware his men were watching, quickly turned to shout orders. He ignored Briah, while she stood there and tried to look unconcerned.
Finally, almost casually, the merchant motioned Briah over, and said, “For three pieces of silver, we’ll take you to Barhan—but you bring your own supplies.”
Briah looked at the other merchants. She read nothing in their faces. “Two pieces of silver,” she said.
The merchant shrugged. “Three pieces. Or, you could look for some other transport. There may be another in a few days. I suppose if you’re sure you’re family will still take you back, a few days won’t make much difference.” He grinned. The threat was obvious, and Briah knew he wouldn’t back down.
“Three pieces,” she said. Renulf held out his hand. Briah only smiled. “After I return with my supplies.”
The merchant looked annoyed—but there was a hint of respect where a moment ago there was only the glee of any easy mark. “Hurry up,” was all he said.
Frantically, Briah searched the stalls for dried meat and bread. Her haste was obvious to all the sellers, and they took full advantage of it. Briah barely cared that her silver was nearly gone by the time she was fully outfitted, allowing herself only one shriek of outrage when she learned that here,
even water cost money.
Briah hurried back to the caravan and paid the merchant. Before she caught her breath, they started off.
CHAPTER 25
The journey was almost without incident. True, the younger men took her for part of the merchandise at first, but for all his rough exterior, Renulf proved to be a man of integrity. A few harsh words from him, and the men settled for sullen leering, and occasional rude comments. That was fine with Briah.
Her attempts to befriend the old woman got nowhere, for she and Briah spoke different dialects, and while Briah was interested in bridging the gap, the other woman was not. She walked in silence by day, and rolled into her blankets without a word at night. Even Briah’s offers of healing teas and ointments were rejected.
“Will I be like that someday?” Briah asked the stars as she lay in her bedroll one night. They were camped in a meadow beside a small stream. Briah and the old woman slept apart from the men. The turf was soft beneath her, and the night air was sweet with the fragrance of wild flowers, yet none of it made any difference to the unhappy woman beside Briah. “Alone? Bitter? Shrunk in on myself?” Then she thought about Taran, and heard the echo of his song in the night, and knew that fate was leading Briah toward a very different future. But it would be up to her to make it happen.
She listened to the snores of the woman beside her, sensing how easy it was to give in to despair. Was it the hardship and loss she had known throughout her life that turned her away from human contact? Was it the way the people around her treated a barren woman? Or was it something else altogether?
Briah thought again of herself. “How can I be sure I won’t end up like her?”
But the stars were silent, and Briah knew she would have to find her own answers.
****
For three days, the party traveled east. The going was often difficult, for much of the land was forest. Most of the roads were little more than deer trails. The oxen struggled through, and the merchants kept a constant lookout, their weapons at the ready. Bandits were active in these parts, Briah learned. Remembering her own abduction six years ago, she was on her guard as well.
On the fourth day, they had to ford a wide river. Once across, the direction seemed to veer south. Briah grew anxious, but there was nothing to do but walk. The going was easier, at least. The woodland thinned out, giving way to meadows and cultivated land. The caravan stopped at a village, which had little of value to trade, but offered fresh food and shelter under dry roofs for a few bits of tin.
The next day, to Briah’s relief, they headed east again. Travel was boring, she decided, at least for her. The merchants enjoyed a jolly camaraderie with each other, or the people they met, but no one spoke to Briah. She was grateful, of course, to be left alone, but it was unsettling to maintain solitude surrounded by others. Her only pleasure came from the land around her. She couldn’t remember ever seeing so many rivers or such a diversity of flowers.
It came as something as a shock that land could be so wet this far from the sea, but is was so. Dew settled on the travelers every night as they slept. Mist and fog, so different in touch and smell from the fog of the shore appeared and disappeared throughout the journey. Even the occasional rain had a different feel. Briah thought she would never get tired of the smell of damp earth, or the sight of so much green above and below her.
The only trouble occurred on the seventh evening. Earlier that day, the caravan had linked up with three young men from a farming village. They carried cloth woven by the local women, and bronze tools, made by a smith of superior ability, which they hoped to trade in the next few villages along the route. From what Briah could gather, such joinings were common, and paid the newcomers no mind.
But she noticed how they looked at her, and gestured toward her when speaking with her “protectors”.
That night, Briah was awakened by a calloused hand over her mouth. Rough hands groped her, until a harsh whisper told the other two men to get her into the woods. One of them got her belt knife away from her as they dragged her towards the trees. Deciding she was no match for three armed men under these circumstances, Briah went limp. The men laughed, and one of them slung her over his shoulder.
Her bodice knife was out the same instant that her teeth clamped down on her abductor’s ear. He dropped her with a startled curse. She landed in a crouch and planted the knife into the thigh of the man directly before her. She took a moment’s pleasure in watching the bulge beside it shrink, then leapt to her feet to confront the third man.
He brandished a knife and leapt at her with fury. Briah dodged and kicked his knee, wishing she had slept in her boots. He recovered quickly, and was now joined by the man with the bleeding ear. The man she had knifed, at least, would not be a problem for a while.
By now, however, the entire merchant caravan—including the old woman—were running towards them and demanding answers.
Renulf strode up carrying a torch. Briah met his gaze steadily. Her attackers seemed to be hovering between fear and outrage.
The man with the knife chose the latter. “What kind of evil spirits have you brought to our land?” he spat out, gesturing Briah with his knife.
“I see no spirits,” said the merchant. “I see a woman to whom I promised protection—and three ruffians who make me seem an oath breaker.”
“We paid fair price for her!” shouted the man on the ground as he tried to bind his thigh wound.
“Shut up!” said the one with the knife. “We were only looking for some harmless sport. What’s the woman to you anyway?”
“Who did you pay?” asked the merchant. Then, turning to the young merchant who had been on watch, he said, “Or should I guess?”
“He’s lying!” said the man, obviously frightened. “They gave me nothing!”
“I don’t recall anyone saying they did,” said the leader. “Nor do I care. I was simply going to ask, where you were when this woman was being dragged off, not forty paces from our fire.”
The younger man’s red-rimmed eyes darted furtively. “My bowels have been troubling me.” He glanced toward the trees they had been using as a latrine.
The leader stared at the guard and he looked away.
“Well, never let it be said that Renulf the Trader doubts the word of one of his own men. But you,” he turned to the three strangers, “can get your packs and leave now.”
The injured man started to protest, but his two companions silenced him, and hurried off to collect their gear.
“It’s nearly dawn,” said Renulf gazing toward the east. “Let’s get an early start.”
With that, the party hurried off to strike camp.
Briah, suddenly weak, sat by the fire for a few moments collecting herself. No one looked at her or inquired about her well-being. She felt a moment’s anger that no action was taken against her attackers or the merchant who sold her, then shrugged it off. When it really mattered, Renulf had kept his word to her.
As they set off under a rose and gold sky, she stopped before the caravan leader. “Thank you,” she said.
He nodded, and walked on.
****
They reached Barhan three days later. It was a sizable town, similar to Finool—and to the nameless town where Briah and several other children had been sold to Lir. But here, Briah felt no fear, just a passing curiosity about what the town might hold, and an eagerness to be moving on.
Now that Renulf had completed the terms of their contract, Briah was on her own. No other caravans were heading east, but Briah discovered that several farmers were.
Barhan was a prosperous town, leading to an increase in the size of surrounding villages. As a result, the land was becoming overused. New villages were being started to the east. Only a few days east, but still that was something. After being directed first to one man, then another, Briah finally found a small group ready to set out.
She located the leader at once. A tall young man, with the look of a younger son, finally able to seize an op
portunity for wealth and property in his own right.
“Excuse me,” said Briah.
The man turned to her with a look of annoyance. “What is it, girl?” he demanded.
“I am traveling east, to my home. I thought I might travel with you.” The sight of women and children encouraged her. Here was a chance for safe travel not to be missed.
“You’re a stranger. You have no kith nor kin among us. Have you some where we’re headed?”
“No, but not far—”
“I don’t need a strange woman making trouble on this trip,” said the leader, turning away.
“I can pay!”
The man stopped and glanced back. “How?” he asked. Briah didn’t like the look in his eyes.
“Metal pieces. I took them from the men who thought they could take me from my home and make me a slave.” Seeing that this audience was not as impressed as her last one she looked about for a family who might need help. “I can work as well. Help with meals, care for children...”
“She may travel with us, Gowen,” said a booming voice.
Everyone turned to see a large, yellow haired man. His rippling muscles suggested he was a smith. Behind him stood a woman, obviously pregnant, with two small children clinging to her coarse woolen skirt.
Briah sighed with relief and approached the family. She smiled at the contrast of the huge blond husband and his tiny, dark wife. Her smile faded as she saw the sickly pallor in the woman’s face and the frail body that struggled to support a swollen belly. Still the woman smiled a welcome at Briah, until it was lost in a hacking cough.
“My wife is not well,” said the man. “If you would help so she could rest more...”
“I will be glad to,” said Briah. Moving toward the woman, she lifted the youngest—a boy of about two years—and set him on her hip. “I have medicine with me, as well. I’ll make some tea for your cough—”
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