The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “Archard,” Ralf finally spoke as I reached my breaking point. “If you want permission to marry Yvaine, you will need to ask her. Even though she is my kin, I don’t have any say over what she chooses with her life.” Ralf’s calm voice filled the space, but I couldn’t help but notice the odd change in his tone. Regret hung just on the edge of his courtesy but didn’t give up its reason for being.

  “But you are her cousin,” Archard laughed nervously, no doubt thrown off by Ralf’s words. “It is custom for a suitor to ask permission for a woman’s hand.”

  “That is not the custom of Yvaine’s people, nor is it the custom of mine. Only she decides who she’ll marry. I suggest that is what you should do. Let me ask you a question though,” He paused. “When you ask her, do you think that she will say yes?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Yvaine isn’t overly vocal about how she feels. She keeps that all close, bundled tightly to her chest. However, I’m sure she will see the sense in it, though. Or, at least I hope that she sees that this might be her only prospect to settle down. Yvaine will make me a good wife, and I will be the best husband that I can be. I want you to know that you have my word on that.”

  “If that’s what you want, then you should ask her.” Ralf said with finality. The sound of his feet setting into motion sent me back into the road under the pretense that I was just arriving instead of eavesdropping on their conversation.

  “Yvaine,” Ralf jumped with surprise. He called my name as he caught sight of me approaching the front door. “We were just talking about you. Weren’t we, Archard?” The older, shorter man followed right on Ralf’s heels. He stood in Ralf’s towering shadow, sweaty, nervous, and eager to speak to me.

  “Good evening, Yvaine,” He smiled nervously, too nervously for my comfort. I was out of sorts seeing Archard so flustered and Ralf glowering, intentionally avoiding my gaze. “Might I ask you for a moment of your time?” Archard motioned to the small space between his home and the animal pens. “I promise it won’t take long.”

  Glancing from Archard to Ralf and back, I signaled assent but didn’t move until Ralf was inside and the door was shut. Archard motioned for me to follow. I trailed after him and came to a stop, standing in the center of the small yard. “How was your day?” He asked me, attempting to lighten the mood before he asked his question. Dread crept up my back as I answered.

  “It was just like any other,” I said honestly. “Is there something that you want, Archard?” I asked bluntly, wanting to get this over with as quickly as I could. “You seem like something is bothering you?” I got straight to the point, not wanting to draw this out any longer than needed.

  “Actually, yes,” He sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I was speaking to your cousin about the future. I asked him a question, but he suggested that I come to you instead, seeing as it concerns you.” Archard inhaled again but let it out in a fast rush. “I want to marry you, Yvaine.” He said. “I know that you will be a good wife and mother and I will be the best husband that I can,” He repeated part of Ralf’s words, unaware that this was my second time hearing them. “I can offer you a comfortable home, financial security, and you can still practice your healing. I am sure that you’ve noticed that I care for you—that I love you—and I won’t go another minute without asking you this most important question. Yvaine, would you be my wife?”

  I stared at Archard for far too long, unable to give him an answer right off. Slowly, as each minute passed, the light of hope faded from his soft brown eyes. Denied a definitive reply, Archard gave me a resigned nod.

  “I take it that your answer is no,” He said, deflated and disappointed.

  “I want you to know that it’s not you,” I said quickly. “I don’t plan on marrying. You honor me with your offer, but I can’t accept it. I cannot give you what you want. You deserve someone who loves you—who’s in love with you. Your girls deserve someone who can be a second mother to them, especially Aethyln. She desperately wants your love and approval, Archard. She deserves it. You deserve hers in return. Don’t deny yourself the chance to be her father and her friend.”

  Archard tried to smile but couldn’t. “Thank you for that, at least,” He said softly, no doubt upset that my answer wasn’t the one he expected. “If you will excuse me, I have to tend to the animals.” Archard reached out as if to touch me but stopped himself. Slowly, he turned and went into the animal pens to feed them for the long night ahead.

  I left the yard and went inside. Sibbe was at the preparation table, chopping cabbage while Daffyd napped in a nearby chair. To my shock, Aethyln worked alongside Sibbe, snapping beans and separating the pieces in two separate bowls. The rest of the children shouted and laughed upstairs, rushing to and fro as they played an unknown game. As I shut the door, I sat my basket down on a nearby table and instantly caught sight of Ralf. He sat in a chair before the hearth. The orange-red light reflected on his brown hair, bringing out the red highlights that hid under its main color. His eyes watched the dancing flames as if summoning the spirits of old. My breath caught at his beauty. My strong, valiant, tender warrior thought as if his thoughts were on the verge of consuming him.

  “Is everything all right?” Sibbe asked, filled with concern and certain that something was up.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Archard just asked me to marry him.” I chose to make it public, rather than keep his proposal a secret.

  “Oh! That’s fantastic!” Sibbe clapped her hands as her elbow upended the bowl filled with bean tips. “Congratulations.”

  “I said no. I won’t marry him. I said no because I don’t love him in the way that he wants me to.” I watched the joy fade from Sibbe’s face and as it rose in Aethyln’s. “He deserves to be loved. I’m not capable of giving him that.”

  “Don’t say that, Yvaine,” Sibbe jumped to my defense. “Don’t undervalue yourself like that.”

  “My refusal isn’t a denial of my worth,” I corrected her. “I won’t marry someone that I don’t love. That’s all there is to it. I told Archard that we are still friends but that’s where it ends. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Sibbe didn’t hide her disappointment and that she disapproved of my decision, but she kept it to herself. Aethyln however, met my eye with an appreciation. “Thank you,” She mouthed, thinking that my decision was solely for her benefit. Not wanting to make it into more than what it was, I allowed her to continue in her belief.

  When Archard entered the house minutes later, he crossed the length of the floor, saying nothing to anyone present. I watched as he ascended the stairs and heard his bedroom slam door moments later. Sibbe glanced between the stairs and me and raised her eyebrow with questioning.

  “No, I haven’t changed my mind, and don’t expect me to.” I said far more harshly than I intended to. Seeing that she was pushing the limits of my patience, Sibbe abandoned any attempt to sway me my thinking and went back to preparing dinner.

  We ate that night in relative silence. Aethyln took the seat to my right, while Ralf took the space on my left, where Archard normally sat. Tonight, Archard placed himself at the far end of the table, across from Daffyd. The distance didn’t stop him from stealing wounded glances my way, no doubt hoping that I would change my mind. By the end of dinner, Archard had admitted defeat and excused himself. He went outside, claiming that he needed some fresh air. Sibbe, Aethyln, and I cleaned up the mess and once everything was put away, they went upstairs for an early night, while I remained downstairs. Soon, there was no one left in the room save for me and Ralf.

  My beloved Ralf resumed his position before the fire. I watched him for the longest time, hoping that I could catch a glimpse of his thoughts, but it was as if he shut his mind off, leaving me unable to see anything past the limits of my eyes. Moving further down the table, I wanted nothing more than to be close to him. To touch him. To take him in my arms. To smell his scent mingling with the fire and to tell him the truth. That I refused Archard because he was the o
nly man that I could ever think of marrying.

  “Ralf,” I said suddenly in the low firelight, interrupting the silence. “I want to go home tomorrow.” Ralf continued to stare into the hearth. I watched the flames dance across the ridges and plains of his face, entranced by its beauty.

  “Aye, so do I,” He echoed my feelings. “I have unfinished work and I’m sure that the gardens have been decimated by rabbits. We’ll leave at first light. I’ll tell Archard once he comes back in.”

  “All right,” I said, relieved that I didn’t have to face Archard for a second time. “I’ll let Sibbe know, and I’ll be ready at dawn.” I added before heading upstairs to get what sleep I could before the sun started to peek over the horizon.

  Ralf gave me a nod and went back to the flames. My last image of him that night was of him sitting, facing the fire with his clasped hands pressed to his mouth. I knew without asking that a lot was weighing on his mine. What it was, I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to ask because his thoughts were his own and they had nothing to do with me.

  ************

  Ralf and I returned home. With a fair amount of money resting in our pockets, the trip back was a quiet one. Neither of us spoke of Archard’s proposal, each of us acting as if it never happened. With each of us refusing to bring it up, our lives went on just as they had before until it was time for the next Faire four months later. Ralf and I debated returning, given Archard’s proposal. While I argued against returning, Ralf reminded me of my friendship with Daffyd and Sibbe.

  “Don’t let Archard get in the way of what you share with them. We can always stay at the tavern,” He suggested over dinner. “Or we can stay with your friend, Dorcas. She’s only asked at least a dozen times.”

  In the end, Ralf was right. I wouldn’t let Archard’s proposal keep me from the other friends that I’d made. When the time came, we journeyed back.

  ************

  Along the road, it wasn’t uncommon for us to pass many travelers on the way in or on their way out of town. I was taken aback to see it so deserted. As we walked, we had yet to come across anyone and that settled uneasily into my bones.

  “Yvaine, don’t you find it odd that we haven’t seen a single living soul?” Ralf said when we were just a few miles away from our destination. “By now, we would have come across at least two dozen passersby.” He put my own thoughts into words.

  “Something isn’t right,” I replied, trying to control the disquiet that intensified within me.

  Ralf and I continued the rest of the trip in anxious silence. When we approached the gates of the town with bated breath. Upon arrival, I took note of the absence of sound. At any given time, an abundance of noise—animal sounds, laughter, daily banter, and the sounds of work met our ears. Today, the air was still and silent. The air also reeked heavily with the putrid stench of death.

  “Yvaine?” Ralf said as we both reached the same conclusion.

  “It smells like home after it was struck with the coughing sickness,” I told him, recognizing the reek of rotting flesh.

  A harsh, raspy cough sounded, catching our attention. Ralf and I glanced to find a man standing above us, looking down with a kerchief wrapped around his face. Immediately, I saw the hemorrhagic smallpox lesions and the spots of petechiae that spread across the man’s face, neck, and all the other parts of uncovered flesh. I could smell that he was close to death but somehow, he was still alive. Reflexively, I placed my hand over my nose and my mouth. Eweln had long believed that smallpox was spread through the air. Standing there facing it, I had no reason to doubt her. I nudged Ralf to do the same.

  “The town is quarantined,” He called down to us, visibly too sick to stand or care what happened to him. “Go away unless you want to die, too.” He waved us off and swayed unsteadily upon his feet.

  “I’m a healer. I can help.” I said, knowing that my gifts could ease the suffering.

  “No use,” The infected man croaked. “Everyone is dead. I’m the only one left and I’m not long for this world.” A shiver of dread rippled across my skin. Ralf reached out and took hold of my hand.

  “What about the town?” He asked.

  “All dead,” The man wheezed. “They started dying just days after Mother Adeline was called to London just after the last Faire. The hospice was soon overrun as the nuns and the priests fell ill and started dying off. Everything turned into sheer hell once there was no one left to do anything. People died where they fell because there wasn’t enough of us left to bury them.” The dying man hacked and coughed, using the top of the wall for support. His recollection explained the growing odor emanating from behind the walls. Instinctively, I moved back several feet and urged Ralf to do the same.

  “No, they can’t be gone!” Ralf cried before stepping back. “What about Daffyd Builder? His wife Sibbe? Their children? What about Archard Merchant and his family?” The contagious man nodded his head in reply.

  “They were amongst the first to go,” The man managed to say in between violent coughs. “The first was Archard Merchant’s pretty little daughter, Eadlin. The Builder’s children went next, followed by the parents. Archard was the last man standing. I was one of the few men left to bury him when he died. Now friend, unless you want to join them, you need to leave. Go away and don’t come back. Everyone is gone. All the townspeople. Everyone at the Abbey. They’ve gone to be with God and soon, I’ll will too.” With that, the man fell out of sight even though we could still hear his violent coughs and smell the strong scent of decay.

  Ralf suddenly pulled me to him. Together, we sought comfort in the each other’s arms as we searched for a way to make sense of what had happened. In the span of four months, an entire town and an Abbey, one that was home to over sixty monks and nuns, had fallen. I stood frozen, barely comprehending what we had just learned. Smallpox was a swift killer and spared no one in its path. A surge of guilt rushed through me as I scolded myself for not coming sooner. My guilt lasted but a moment because I knew that no matter how hard I worked, no matter how much I battled, eventually I would have contracted it too, so would Ralf. If we had stayed, neither of us would be standing here today.

  “Yvaine, I think it is time to return home,” Ralf’s hand caressed the back of my head as I felt the vibration of his voice within his chest. “There’s nothing that you or I can do. Even if we wanted to, nothing more can be done.” I attempted to argue but gave up the fight just as quickly as it started. Ralf was right. I was powerless to save the people from the town. The only thing that I could have done was ease their pain as they lay dying, but I also would have cost the ultimate price. Ralf’s life would have been in jeopardy as well. If I had stayed to nurse the dying, he wouldn’t have left my side. Nothing would have forced him to go. One of Ralf’s best qualities was his loyalty to his friends. If there was any way to help, he would move the earth to see it done. It was just one of the many traits that I loved about him. That love consoled me as I mourned those that we had lost. My friends, some of the greatest that I would ever have, were dead. A short span of time had seen them go from vibrant, energetic, lively people to nothing but mere mounds in a graveyard, with nothing to be remembered by, save the memories that Ralf and I carried. As we walked away for the very last time, I mourned their loss but also cherished the honor of their friendship. These people, that once lived in that little hamlet, did not have to show me compassion, fraternity or even respect. They gave me all three in abundance. The town had become a part of my journey. Its lessons taught me that not every strange face was a threat. My last thoughts as that chapter closed were Mother Adeline’s words when she often quoted from the Bible.

  “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

  My friends had started off strangers and even though I was not a Christian, I wanted to believe that they had become angels and looked down upon us with love. With a touch of Ralf’s hand upon my shoulder, we made the long trek back home, never to r
eturn. With each step I took, I sang the funeral songs of my people, to help aid their souls upon their journey.

  THIRTEEN

  The loss of my friends affected me with a magnitude that I hadn’t experienced since I chose to leave the Island. When I went to the fish traps, I would hear the click clack of Archard’s looms. In the thick of the woods, I saw Eadlin and the other children dance around me without a care in the world. Sibbe’s cooking often drifted in on the wind and tantalized my nose as my own pot simmered away. The whack of Daffyd’s hammer echoed throughout the hillside. The only specter that I didn’t see was Aethyln. Her absence left me afraid that she burned in the hellfire that she staunchly believed in. I hoped otherwise. That she was at peace and didn’t need to visit the earthly realm.

  The ache from their absence was at times too much to bear. Ralf felt it too even though he kept it to himself, not from fear of sharing but rather not wanting to add to my pain. Their deaths brought up the horrific memories of Cal’s attack and brought back the revulsion, the hate, and the disgust thrown at me by people I had known my entire life. People that I had worked tirelessly to save but had turned on me in the end. My familiars, people that I had known for the first sixteen years of my life, viewed me as their destruction while complete strangers adopted me into their fold without question. Yet, there had been monsters that came with each. Monsters whose madness went beyond depravity. Eadhbert wanted to see me burn. Cal wanted to control me. Thoughts of Cal reminded me of things I didn’t want to deal with. Bluntly put, I didn’t want to think about my rape. I wanted to keep it as far from me as possible. The loss of our friends brought back the vulnerability that left me weak, fragile, and afraid. I did my best to hide it from Ralf. Together, we managed to live as we did before, even though I loved him more now than I ever had. We’d experienced grief together and relied on one another while we learned to live with what had been lost.