Genevieve
working on it
He can't afford the fines that the council would levy. He said so in the other chapter. He just got out of debt with francine's family.
Story Fel By the Wayside (Complete)
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
He can't afford the fines that the council would levy. He said so in the other chapter. He just got out of debt with francine's family.
kyrsyan
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Not that I think Cor will do it, but I'm sure that there is an exemption made for this situation. In a PA world where children are not just wanted but necessary for survival, a woman who would knowingly cause the death of her child would be a pariah. Especially in a community that is already having problems with finding wives and genetic diversity. I'm somewhat surprised that she isn't facing charges of murder, especially since she admits to deliberately doing it.
And her family was already having issues because of the way they forced the second marriage, this is possibly going to make things blow up in their faces. Big time!
Jeepcats 3
Contributing Member
IS the barrel full of arrows or is it full of one of Fels inventions?
Nice chapter, glad for Topher, looks like he is going to live.
Now what will that idiot Francine get up to in the middle of the battle?
Jeepcats3
Nice chapter, glad for Topher, looks like he is going to live.
Now what will that idiot Francine get up to in the middle of the battle?
Jeepcats3
I dont remember if it was a girl child. But that might hold true especially if it was a girl.
WAB
juco
Veteran Member
Maybe it's a water barrel in case the house catches on fire from flaming arrows.
And I was wondering the exact same thing about Francine...wonder if she is gonna pitch a fit and get killed somehow?
edited to add -WAB types faster than me
Jeepcats 3
Contributing Member
Selfish Francine, I think not.
If anything I think Francine is more likely to have a hissy fit, try to hurt Fels and get in the way of a lethel hit/weapon.
Jeepcats3
If anything I think Francine is more likely to have a hissy fit, try to hurt Fels and get in the way of a lethel hit/weapon.
Jeepcats3
That works too -- something has got to give!
goinpostal
Contributing Member
Thank You again Kathy for your hard work entertaining us with your talented writing.
In print this would be a NY Times best seller right along side Ed Greenwood,P.Anthony,and Mercedes Lackey for sure.
Matt
In print this would be a NY Times best seller right along side Ed Greenwood,P.Anthony,and Mercedes Lackey for sure.
Matt
kyrsyan
Has No Life - Lives on TB
I don't necessarily hate her. But deliberately harming her unborn child? especially in their situation with all the ruckus and fuss she caused........... Well she wouldn't be welcome in my home unless escorted by someone that I really really cared about. And even then, she'd be ignored beyond basic politeness.
Chapter 53
A horse screamed and I heard it thundering riderless down the lane. Riderless? It was then I realized I saw the animal as well as heard it. Calm poured through me steadying my nerves. Was it simply that my Da had raised me and put me on a certain path? Was it that I’d learned even more the hard way from the Lakesiders – a people very skilled at night attacks – what was smart tactics and what was not? I’m not sure but I had to ask myself what kind of fool attacks in the light of the full moon when his opponent holds the high ground?
I smelled smoke and realized they were trying to hide behind a backfire but they had reckoned without the fact that it had been so wet not a week earlier. This land was far different from the Outlands; wet took a lot longer to dry out. The dead grass had already been sheered and thinned and fields plowed in preparation of planting, and the trees were ripe with sap leaving little for the fire to even catch on. So long as we could keep them away from the buildings and the barns, fire was not the weapon they had planned on it being. There weren’t even many haystacks left for them to light, and those that had remained after their attack a month before had been moved to more secure and protected areas.
Then I saw the enemy creeping along the orchard and through the hedgerows. They moved slow and I decided to teach them even more caution.
I favor a long bow. I’ve had people laugh at me for it saying it was nearly as long as I am tall but that’s not quite the truth although the weapon is more than half my length. But the results aren’t just due to the bow but how many pounds you can pull. My Da could put a metal headed tip clean through a small tree with his pull. I’ve never been able to duplicate his strength but my accuracy is nothing to sneeze at within my range. And that range was enough given my vantage point.
Jonah’s archers could throw a mass of arrows three hundred yards from their positions but it was for volume not accuracy. They took down some men but not enough to warrant more than a volley or two of such capacity. Had they kept it up they would have wasted too many arrows. Me on the other hand, I was deadly within a hundred yards needing barely a moment to aim and I did well enough as far out as a hundred and fifty yards so long as there was no rush and I could get the wind and direction to favor me. On very rare occasions I’ve shot accurately up to two hundred yards but that was with the wind behind me and lots of luck riding on the fletching.
This night there was no wind to drive the few fires that had been set which meant there was none to spoil my aim. As soon as any raider came within my range and sight I sent an arrow their way. I didn’t even have to affect a killing shot as a nick would soon have the man down from my poisoned tips. As soon as I noted caution from one direction I would switch windows and pick off more from another … and teach them a dose of caution as I had the others. As a single shooter I drew no attention and never suffered an attack on my position. We kept them at bay for over an hour but given the number of men with the raiders it couldn’t last forever.
A volley of flaming tar-tipped arrows came in next and it took time to put them out. That time allowed the raiders to work their way closer. I did what I could. I watched for the telltale flicker of the torches being used to light the arrows and I would send my own arrow into the bodies at that spot. I didn’t always strike but it made them jumpy. That’s when they brought their makeshift catapults.
The boys of my town would play war and practice with these oversized slingshots by shooting rotten gourds at each other’s positions. The boys had stationary uprights that operated much like a bow laid on its side. Two boys would brace the uprights and a third would load, cock, aim, and then fire which would chuck the rotten fruit in the appropriate direction and much further than one could ever be thrown by hand.
These raiders were doing the same thing only the slingshots were portable and could be moved from position to position, and instead of rotten gourds they were chucking fire pots at us. The one disadvantage to the weapon is that the operators had to get into the open in order to shoot it and I wasn’t the only archer that caused a flaming mess to explode before it could be released.
By two hours it was a war of attrition. They would move forward then be forced to retreat. Come forward again under a volley of arrows that would cause casualties on our side then we would pay them back and kill them until they retreated once again. A few times they came close to damaging the house and outbuildings. I had to go out onto the roof more than once to put out lit tar splatters; and at one point was forced to rip part of my skirt off up to my thigh when it caught fire when I slipped near the edge. An outbuilding got singed deeply before it could be brought under control but eventually the enemy rain out of fire to throw at us.
Both sides of the battle lines were now well passed their first wind … and possibly their second as well. Adrenaline can only carry you so far before a body cries for rest. I have no idea how long the raiders had been on the move; they had to have run in quickly against the village because their presence hadn’t been noticed and given the number of raiders I was seeing, a force of that size would have been obvious to all but a blind and deaf post. Our men had been hard at work all day and were tired as well, but we had what my Da called home field advantage. And we used it well.
Their last assault almost broke us. They came at us in the shape of a wedge with the thick point facing our front line. When the point reached and engaged us, still unable to break our line, the outer wings of their assault swept out and tried to flank us. We had marshaled many men to meet the point and as a result our sides had thinned. Their strategy almost succeeded. But as my Da always said, almost only counts in horseshoes and fire pots. A few men made it onto the porch of the house, I heard splintering wood and breaking glass, but they were quickly cut down by our own injured who had refused to do any more than pull back for a bandage to stop the flow of blood and return to provide rear guard support for those that remained on the line.
Then the tide turned. We had them on the run and everyone knew it was demolish them here and now or have them come back another day to try again. Our men assembled and took off after the enemy.
Soon the bulk if the enemy was in full retreat but that did not mean they were not still dangerous. I watched Cor and the Captain leading a contingent … and then I sensed it. A feint much like they had pulled before.
I wanted to scream a warning but it was too late and they wouldn’t have heard me anyway. From the sides came a band of a dozen men, and then more men jumped up where they had been camouflaged to engage us to allow their brethren to escape. The Captain and Cor were pulled from their horses. I saw the Captain gain his feet, saw his sword flash, saw men running to their aid … then … then I saw Cor being dragged back to the house. He didn’t move on his own. And even from the distance I was I knew the wound was bad, perhaps fatal.
In the moonlight the blood that covered him looked black and silver and something in me snapped. The shutter was nothing; it burst away from me like it was rice paper. I slid down the wall, across the porch’s roof, and then down the columns of the veranda. I shot arrows until my quiver was empty … as empty as my mind and heart had gone of all that was good. Then I grabbed the nearest weapon, a war hammer that rose from the skull of an enemy raider who wore the cotton clothes of a neighboring territory. It was like a pick axe that had one side forged into an axe blade.
The weight of it in my hand felt good. The battle scream that exited my throat felt even better. Right in a way nothing had felt right in a long time. It was at that point that all the civilizing that my Da had pounded into me from birth left and I was fully Outlander for only the second time in my life.
War hammer in my right hand and green river blade in my left I attacked viciously anything and anyone that got in my way. Death had nothing to do with it; neither did leather or cotton or color or age or affiliation. My only purpose and satisfaction was to rend and maim, to cause what pain I could until they fell away and then went on to the next body that presented itself to me. It had nothing to do with fairness or justice or even emotion. All I cared about was being the instrument of vengeance against the monsters that had dared to touch those under my care. I was the black ghost, the poison spirit, and the deadly stonecoat all combined into one. No one could touch me, I was smoke; but every time I touched them they fell … many began to run but I was not going to let them go without paying a price for the pain that surrounded me on all sides.
Then a monster equal to the one I was becoming attacked me from behind. I rolled and came up swinging. He hadn’t expected that and I sliced across his exposed chest drawing a hiss of pain from his misshapen mouth.
My monster was on the inside screaming to crawl onto my skin and take up residence there for eternity. His already lay across him like a well-worn cape. I recognized him for what he was … people eater, soul eater, trickster that led the men who followed him to their death.
We traded blows. He was large and powerful but I was small and fast. He saw nothing but a puny woman. My puniness hid a lifetime are hard won experience in the art of pain … both the giving of it and the surviving it.
His wide, swinging blows caused me no fear and only gave me time to run underneath his arms and prick him like an ever annoying mosquito. Where I suffered a few cuts, his body was became covered with many and they all streamed his life essence.
“What are you?!” he hissed spraying rabid spittle.
In a voice tinged with madness I told him, “I go by many names. Jokao, Asin, Binaye Ahani, Nunyenunc, Witico, Tzeltal … more names than you can ever know from the deepest waters to the tallest mountains to the darkest forests. Not even the strongest warrior can stand before me. And this is MY land and these are MY people you worthless worm. You came where you were not welcome and you … will … pay … the … PRICE!!”
I launched myself at him. I no longer cared whether I lived or died, but the one standing before me would cease drawing breath if it was the last thing I did on this plain of existence. My hammer was blocked by his axe … but my blade slipped passed his defenses and cut a deep sliced across his throat. Sensing the approach of his Maker fear replaced fire as his eyes began to cloud with death. With one last heave he threw me from him, catching me a painful blow on my head.
The last thing I remember before the darkness claimed me was stumbling and grinning as the monster toppled. I screamed in triumph and men ran from me in all directions, running from the woman who just barely remembered once being Fel McConnell.
A horse screamed and I heard it thundering riderless down the lane. Riderless? It was then I realized I saw the animal as well as heard it. Calm poured through me steadying my nerves. Was it simply that my Da had raised me and put me on a certain path? Was it that I’d learned even more the hard way from the Lakesiders – a people very skilled at night attacks – what was smart tactics and what was not? I’m not sure but I had to ask myself what kind of fool attacks in the light of the full moon when his opponent holds the high ground?
I smelled smoke and realized they were trying to hide behind a backfire but they had reckoned without the fact that it had been so wet not a week earlier. This land was far different from the Outlands; wet took a lot longer to dry out. The dead grass had already been sheered and thinned and fields plowed in preparation of planting, and the trees were ripe with sap leaving little for the fire to even catch on. So long as we could keep them away from the buildings and the barns, fire was not the weapon they had planned on it being. There weren’t even many haystacks left for them to light, and those that had remained after their attack a month before had been moved to more secure and protected areas.
Then I saw the enemy creeping along the orchard and through the hedgerows. They moved slow and I decided to teach them even more caution.
I favor a long bow. I’ve had people laugh at me for it saying it was nearly as long as I am tall but that’s not quite the truth although the weapon is more than half my length. But the results aren’t just due to the bow but how many pounds you can pull. My Da could put a metal headed tip clean through a small tree with his pull. I’ve never been able to duplicate his strength but my accuracy is nothing to sneeze at within my range. And that range was enough given my vantage point.
Jonah’s archers could throw a mass of arrows three hundred yards from their positions but it was for volume not accuracy. They took down some men but not enough to warrant more than a volley or two of such capacity. Had they kept it up they would have wasted too many arrows. Me on the other hand, I was deadly within a hundred yards needing barely a moment to aim and I did well enough as far out as a hundred and fifty yards so long as there was no rush and I could get the wind and direction to favor me. On very rare occasions I’ve shot accurately up to two hundred yards but that was with the wind behind me and lots of luck riding on the fletching.
This night there was no wind to drive the few fires that had been set which meant there was none to spoil my aim. As soon as any raider came within my range and sight I sent an arrow their way. I didn’t even have to affect a killing shot as a nick would soon have the man down from my poisoned tips. As soon as I noted caution from one direction I would switch windows and pick off more from another … and teach them a dose of caution as I had the others. As a single shooter I drew no attention and never suffered an attack on my position. We kept them at bay for over an hour but given the number of men with the raiders it couldn’t last forever.
A volley of flaming tar-tipped arrows came in next and it took time to put them out. That time allowed the raiders to work their way closer. I did what I could. I watched for the telltale flicker of the torches being used to light the arrows and I would send my own arrow into the bodies at that spot. I didn’t always strike but it made them jumpy. That’s when they brought their makeshift catapults.
The boys of my town would play war and practice with these oversized slingshots by shooting rotten gourds at each other’s positions. The boys had stationary uprights that operated much like a bow laid on its side. Two boys would brace the uprights and a third would load, cock, aim, and then fire which would chuck the rotten fruit in the appropriate direction and much further than one could ever be thrown by hand.
These raiders were doing the same thing only the slingshots were portable and could be moved from position to position, and instead of rotten gourds they were chucking fire pots at us. The one disadvantage to the weapon is that the operators had to get into the open in order to shoot it and I wasn’t the only archer that caused a flaming mess to explode before it could be released.
By two hours it was a war of attrition. They would move forward then be forced to retreat. Come forward again under a volley of arrows that would cause casualties on our side then we would pay them back and kill them until they retreated once again. A few times they came close to damaging the house and outbuildings. I had to go out onto the roof more than once to put out lit tar splatters; and at one point was forced to rip part of my skirt off up to my thigh when it caught fire when I slipped near the edge. An outbuilding got singed deeply before it could be brought under control but eventually the enemy rain out of fire to throw at us.
Both sides of the battle lines were now well passed their first wind … and possibly their second as well. Adrenaline can only carry you so far before a body cries for rest. I have no idea how long the raiders had been on the move; they had to have run in quickly against the village because their presence hadn’t been noticed and given the number of raiders I was seeing, a force of that size would have been obvious to all but a blind and deaf post. Our men had been hard at work all day and were tired as well, but we had what my Da called home field advantage. And we used it well.
Their last assault almost broke us. They came at us in the shape of a wedge with the thick point facing our front line. When the point reached and engaged us, still unable to break our line, the outer wings of their assault swept out and tried to flank us. We had marshaled many men to meet the point and as a result our sides had thinned. Their strategy almost succeeded. But as my Da always said, almost only counts in horseshoes and fire pots. A few men made it onto the porch of the house, I heard splintering wood and breaking glass, but they were quickly cut down by our own injured who had refused to do any more than pull back for a bandage to stop the flow of blood and return to provide rear guard support for those that remained on the line.
Then the tide turned. We had them on the run and everyone knew it was demolish them here and now or have them come back another day to try again. Our men assembled and took off after the enemy.
Soon the bulk if the enemy was in full retreat but that did not mean they were not still dangerous. I watched Cor and the Captain leading a contingent … and then I sensed it. A feint much like they had pulled before.
I wanted to scream a warning but it was too late and they wouldn’t have heard me anyway. From the sides came a band of a dozen men, and then more men jumped up where they had been camouflaged to engage us to allow their brethren to escape. The Captain and Cor were pulled from their horses. I saw the Captain gain his feet, saw his sword flash, saw men running to their aid … then … then I saw Cor being dragged back to the house. He didn’t move on his own. And even from the distance I was I knew the wound was bad, perhaps fatal.
In the moonlight the blood that covered him looked black and silver and something in me snapped. The shutter was nothing; it burst away from me like it was rice paper. I slid down the wall, across the porch’s roof, and then down the columns of the veranda. I shot arrows until my quiver was empty … as empty as my mind and heart had gone of all that was good. Then I grabbed the nearest weapon, a war hammer that rose from the skull of an enemy raider who wore the cotton clothes of a neighboring territory. It was like a pick axe that had one side forged into an axe blade.
The weight of it in my hand felt good. The battle scream that exited my throat felt even better. Right in a way nothing had felt right in a long time. It was at that point that all the civilizing that my Da had pounded into me from birth left and I was fully Outlander for only the second time in my life.
War hammer in my right hand and green river blade in my left I attacked viciously anything and anyone that got in my way. Death had nothing to do with it; neither did leather or cotton or color or age or affiliation. My only purpose and satisfaction was to rend and maim, to cause what pain I could until they fell away and then went on to the next body that presented itself to me. It had nothing to do with fairness or justice or even emotion. All I cared about was being the instrument of vengeance against the monsters that had dared to touch those under my care. I was the black ghost, the poison spirit, and the deadly stonecoat all combined into one. No one could touch me, I was smoke; but every time I touched them they fell … many began to run but I was not going to let them go without paying a price for the pain that surrounded me on all sides.
Then a monster equal to the one I was becoming attacked me from behind. I rolled and came up swinging. He hadn’t expected that and I sliced across his exposed chest drawing a hiss of pain from his misshapen mouth.
My monster was on the inside screaming to crawl onto my skin and take up residence there for eternity. His already lay across him like a well-worn cape. I recognized him for what he was … people eater, soul eater, trickster that led the men who followed him to their death.
We traded blows. He was large and powerful but I was small and fast. He saw nothing but a puny woman. My puniness hid a lifetime are hard won experience in the art of pain … both the giving of it and the surviving it.
His wide, swinging blows caused me no fear and only gave me time to run underneath his arms and prick him like an ever annoying mosquito. Where I suffered a few cuts, his body was became covered with many and they all streamed his life essence.
“What are you?!” he hissed spraying rabid spittle.
In a voice tinged with madness I told him, “I go by many names. Jokao, Asin, Binaye Ahani, Nunyenunc, Witico, Tzeltal … more names than you can ever know from the deepest waters to the tallest mountains to the darkest forests. Not even the strongest warrior can stand before me. And this is MY land and these are MY people you worthless worm. You came where you were not welcome and you … will … pay … the … PRICE!!”
I launched myself at him. I no longer cared whether I lived or died, but the one standing before me would cease drawing breath if it was the last thing I did on this plain of existence. My hammer was blocked by his axe … but my blade slipped passed his defenses and cut a deep sliced across his throat. Sensing the approach of his Maker fear replaced fire as his eyes began to cloud with death. With one last heave he threw me from him, catching me a painful blow on my head.
The last thing I remember before the darkness claimed me was stumbling and grinning as the monster toppled. I screamed in triumph and men ran from me in all directions, running from the woman who just barely remembered once being Fel McConnell.
Jeepcats 3
Contributing Member
WHooooooooo, powerful stuff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks for the chapter,
Jeepcats3
Thanks for the chapter,
Jeepcats3
goinpostal
Contributing Member
YYESss!!
Matt
Matt
Wow, what a fight!!! I do believe the monster man found out just how fierce a woman in love can be.
Hopefully Fel only has a slight concussion from her fall and will be ok so she can help Cor. Or will Cor actually be better than she thought and be the one taking care of her?
When I said I hoped Cor divorced Francine, I was referring to the fact that there is an exemption for it in some cases. What better reason could he have then her killing their baby. Thanks Kathy.
Hopefully Fel only has a slight concussion from her fall and will be ok so she can help Cor. Or will Cor actually be better than she thought and be the one taking care of her?
When I said I hoped Cor divorced Francine, I was referring to the fact that there is an exemption for it in some cases. What better reason could he have then her killing their baby. Thanks Kathy.
Whew, that was....
She killed the giant and put the fear of God in the rest of them, on her side too. Pure, blind fury in action. I just hope that Cor was alive and awake enough to see it, just in case he needs a clue to the depth of Fel's feelings for him. I hope no one has to explain to him that nobody has ever loved him that much.
I absolutely loved the line "almost only counts in horseshoes and fire pots." LOL
She killed the giant and put the fear of God in the rest of them, on her side too. Pure, blind fury in action. I just hope that Cor was alive and awake enough to see it, just in case he needs a clue to the depth of Fel's feelings for him. I hope no one has to explain to him that nobody has ever loved him that much.
I absolutely loved the line "almost only counts in horseshoes and fire pots." LOL
DustMusher
Deceased
WHOA! Kathy that was one heck of a read! BP and respiratory rate raised as if I, too, were in the fray.
Thank you! Now to calm down and try to sleep.
DM
Thank you! Now to calm down and try to sleep.
DM
Hudsonhawk
Member
Man Kathy I can hardly keep up with you, as fast as these chapters are coming. It's really great to sense your excitement as it reads like it is pouring out of you beggin to be told.
Last chapter for the night ... or should I say morning since it is 1:15 am my time. Thanks to everyone who is reading this. Hudson ... you aren't far off the mark, sometimes I story just screams to get typed so my brain can rest.
----------------------------------------
Chapter 54
I dreamed. No. No I relived my waking nightmares. I burned with fever and across my eyes danced Alo’s uncle still holding my Da’s bloody scalp … the hooded discipline-giver with his heavy lash … the men who had degraded me while I was locked in the stocks … the laughter of the Headman as he sold me away from the only home I had ever known … the half-faced monster that had led the attack on my new home.
I grappled with these nightmares for three days. I don’t remember the end of the battle. I don’t remember being found just inside the main gate just after dawn. I don’t remember that it was only Docia that I would allow to approach me. I don’t remember finally collapsing into her arms, barely able see through the sticky blood that had cascaded across my face from a head wound.
I didn’t see the fearful looks some people gave me or the loyal looks of the village and estate people. I was senseless to Jonah and some of his most trusted men as they bore me on a stretcher to the cabin and to Docia and Mrs. Wiley tending my body and my wounds. Nor did I hear the village women that would come every day to carry news of my health back to the ones that were busy putting all the damage to rights.
I didn’t know that Topher, despite his own injuries, would snarl and snap at anyone that came too close to me when he wasn’t expecting it; that he slept at the end of my bed on a pallet barely bigger than a cradle like he was a pup, refusing to leave my side except when Docia would remind him that I would be worried if he didn’t eat or allow his wounds to be tended.
But I was told all these things within an hour of regaining my senses. I also demanded to know what our casualties had been and who was injured and whether they were likely to live or die. I was terrified of the answer but I had to know.
“Fel … please … not so soon,” Docia begged.
I looked at her and asked point blank. “Is he dead?”
She shook her head. “But … but he’s sorely injured. He cannot stay awake more than a few moments at a time. Some of it is Mona is keeping him sedated due to the pain and to keep him still until his wounds start to knit properly. Some of it is that he lost so much blood before it could be brought under control.”
A man came through the cabin door and smiling brightly asked, “Are you upsetting my wife?”
“Robbie,” I said by way of greeting.
“Well, your head can’t be too damaged if you recognize me.”
Dealing with a headache and annoyance I rasped, “I won’t be the only one with a damaged head if you persist in being that silly.”
Docia squealed in delight making me shudder as she cried, “Oh she’s better! I knew it! Topher!! Come quick, she’s awake and fussing like her old self!!”
I groaned and Robbie’s smile got even wider. “Serves you right you know for worrying everyone.”
He was trying to tease me into forgetting the questions I wanted answers to. “It won’t work. Move so I can get up. I have to know what is going on. I’ll … I’ll be needed … I … I think …”
Flashes of memory – real or imagined I’m not sure – reminded me of the looks that were turned my way … the horror, the disgust. I blanched. Robbie saw and said, “None of that. How long have you known you were a berserker?”
“A … a what?” I asked, thinking it was some mental condition that would have me locked up for everyone else’s safety.
He looked at me. “Hmmm. Docia mentioned she saw you in this state once before … or rather after you’d experienced it. It was when your family was killed.”
Shamefaced I looked away from him. I’d barely been keeping my feelings at bay and to be reminded so baldly was almost more than I could bear.
“Easy Fel,” he said kindly. “Usually it is men who have this trait. Some seem to … to wallow in it almost like it is a talent; some in fact ritualistically seek such a state. From what I see however I take it that you do not.”
“Lord no,” I whispered in disgust. “I’m … I’m a monster. What person in their right mind would want to be that … that thing I was … to put all they care for in harms way … to completely lose control …” I shuddered again and wished I’d never woken up.
Robbie for his part pulled a chair up to the side of the bed I faced and said, “Fel, there are things in life that we cannot always easily control. Why God burdens us with such aspects I cannot tell you. Perhaps it is a challenge that we have to face, to overcome, to give us a goal so as to be better people. Perhaps He gives us those aspects so that at His time and His control He can use those aspects for His own purpose. Who knows, I do not. But I can tell you what a beserker is so you can better understand the state you were in.”
He became the professional doctor and despite myself I listened. “Berserker is just an old name for it. A more modern term is battle trance. If you read the books from before the Dark Days it is a term denoting a specific and altered state of consciousness – a purely psychological state if you will – that is brought on by stressful situations or in some cases purposely sought through wrote actions designed to create the trance. While in the trance state the person rarely, if at all, feels fear or pain. They can act very differently from what their normal daily behavior is – from extreme altruism such as when a mother will sacrifice all to save her child with absolutely no thought for her own life – what I call the mother bear effect in the extreme – to being outwardly aggressive to the point of a killing rage.”
“That’s me … a madwoman killing …”
He shook his head. “Did you hear me mention madness? You are no more mad than I. I suspect subconsciously you’ve known or at least suspected about this personality trait and you’ve done everything you can to avoid activating it. From what I’ve seen it takes something extreme to bring it out. In fact,” he grimaced. “If your trance state were that easy to bring about it would have come out at least once during all the times that your life has been threatened over the years. It has not. The only time it has come about is when …”
“Enough,” I said trying to find the strength to prove to him I didn’t want to hear the rest.
“Very well, but hopefully you understand and will not descend into self-pity.”
I croaked, “Self-pity?!”
“Good. Outrage. Use it. Get better Fel. You are needed.” At my continued look of stubbornness he sighed. “You are not mad … in love yes but that’s not really madness in the traditional sense.”
I gasped. Robbie smiled kindly. “Docia and I discuss everything Fel. And I think my cousin is lucky to have you. The problem is that after Uncle Lee died Cor began to develop an oversized attachment to his honor.”
“There’s not a thing wrong with his honor,” I said hotly.
“Not if it comes with commonsense. He allowed what he thought was his honor to lock him into a situation that no matter what he could have done was only bound to get worse.” He forestalled me with a raised hand. “No, I’m not trying to second guess him Fel, hindsight is much more clear than foresight. But once the trouble with Francine began he – both of you – tried to manage it yourselves with no help. You tried to keep it hidden when you could no longer deny that there were problems beyond what normally would have occurred during a marriage.”
“Are you saying that … that it is our fault that Francine … that she …”
“No! Perish that thought now.” He sighed. “Francine must take full responsibility for that, but at the same time she may well be beyond taking responsibility in full.” He shook his head. “Let us return to Cor. Mother and Father have done what they can for Cor. They are fairly certain he will not die.” His words stabbed me. “But more than medicine he needs to want to live and right now … right now that flame is not flickering very brightly.”
“Francine …”
“ … Is useless.” At my sharp look he said, “I know. The dunderhead loves – or at least the memory of what they once shared – her despite it all and I suppose that is what happens to every man at some point but we aren’t all blessed with happily ever afters. Mother and Father had no idea that Francine would inherit her mother’s temperament and then take it to this extreme.”
Trying to sit higher in the bed I asked, “You mean her mother wasn’t … wasn’t … this bad?”
“Well, at least you’re willing to discuss the truth of it,” he said. “No, she was not this bad. Nervous, frail, easily discombobulated, occasionally manipulative … all those yes but not so self-centered in her approach as Francine has become. Father thinks it is Francine’s addiction and the particular teas that she became dependent upon to manage her mood swings that have actually exacerbated the problem. She chose the teas rather than behavioral modifications to intervene and keep her balanced.”
Not quite understanding what he meant I asked, “Uh … be … behavioral mod … if … fications?”
Before he could explain Docia was back with Topher in tow. I spent a few minutes assuring myself that the boy was mending, making sure he was eating and letting his wounds get tended. “I’m minding Mistress Fel … but don’t ever scare yer ol’ Topher like that again. I didn’t fight off them crazy Outlanders only ter come home and lose yer. Yer’ve still got ter much ter teach me!”
I smiled for the first time since I awoke. But then I felt my eyes grow heavy and I nearly cursed. “Docia! What was in this mug?!”
She brushed the hair out of my eyes and gently took the mug from my suddenly limp hand. “I didn’t dose you silly … as if I’d risk you wrath over it … it’s only that nasty Sherpa tea you’re so ever loving fond of. What you’re feeling is your body telling you it is time to rest so listen to it Sister. Stop fighting and rest … you’ll need it.”
I woke the next morning in a start. I heard Topher whisper fiercely, “Now yer’ve done it Jonah. She’s awake and Mistress Docia is going ter tell Mrs. Wiley and we’ll be sitting in hot water and get no dinner.”
The older man snorted. “Yer leave me sister ter me. Gilly needs ter waken afore they leave. If we don’t fetch her she’ll ne’er forgive us.”
Sitting up groggily I asked, “Before who leaves?”
Jonah came to the bed and helped me to pull myself up. When I was upright but still on the bed he answered, “Them Lathrops … all of ‘em … including Miss Francie.”
“What?! She can’t!”
My head ached so badly it wanted to fall off … and I wouldn’t have minded if it had … but I shooed them out and struggled shakily to tie a skirt on over the top of my nightshirt. I wasn’t an appropriate outfit for polite society but it didn’t sound as if there was time to armor up and they would simply have to take me as I was.
At the door I leaned on Jonah. I could see that Topher wanted to pout about that but I told him, “How do you think it would make me feel if I was to lean too hard accidentally and tear at one of them scabs you likely have under those clothes you’re wearing?” When he realized I had at least considered leaning on him he seemed satisfied enough but he stuck to me like a shadow … a limping shadow but a plucky one.
It seemed to take forever but at least as I went along some of my strength seemed to be returning and I mounted the front porch stairs mostly under my own steam. I heard voices in the parlor and it was that direction I headed. Both Jonah and Topher stopped at the door and I entered alone.
Hazel saw me first and came forward. “Oh my Dear, I am so glad to see you awake.”
“Hazel,” I asked in a whisper. “What is going on?”
She fell silent and unusually docile as she looked behind me. Elder Lathrop had followed me into the room. He stood stiff and uncomfortable. “Mistress Fel,” he intoned. “Would you permit me to have a word with you?”
My first thought was you better believe it buster, but I merely nodded to him and followed him into the adjoining room. He closed the door behind me and said, “Perhaps after your ordeal you should sit.”
“I’ll stand,” I told him.
He sighed, “Very well. What I have to say is … uncomfortable.” He seemed reluctant to start but once he had I could well understand why he would feel that way.
----------------------------------------
Chapter 54
I dreamed. No. No I relived my waking nightmares. I burned with fever and across my eyes danced Alo’s uncle still holding my Da’s bloody scalp … the hooded discipline-giver with his heavy lash … the men who had degraded me while I was locked in the stocks … the laughter of the Headman as he sold me away from the only home I had ever known … the half-faced monster that had led the attack on my new home.
I grappled with these nightmares for three days. I don’t remember the end of the battle. I don’t remember being found just inside the main gate just after dawn. I don’t remember that it was only Docia that I would allow to approach me. I don’t remember finally collapsing into her arms, barely able see through the sticky blood that had cascaded across my face from a head wound.
I didn’t see the fearful looks some people gave me or the loyal looks of the village and estate people. I was senseless to Jonah and some of his most trusted men as they bore me on a stretcher to the cabin and to Docia and Mrs. Wiley tending my body and my wounds. Nor did I hear the village women that would come every day to carry news of my health back to the ones that were busy putting all the damage to rights.
I didn’t know that Topher, despite his own injuries, would snarl and snap at anyone that came too close to me when he wasn’t expecting it; that he slept at the end of my bed on a pallet barely bigger than a cradle like he was a pup, refusing to leave my side except when Docia would remind him that I would be worried if he didn’t eat or allow his wounds to be tended.
But I was told all these things within an hour of regaining my senses. I also demanded to know what our casualties had been and who was injured and whether they were likely to live or die. I was terrified of the answer but I had to know.
“Fel … please … not so soon,” Docia begged.
I looked at her and asked point blank. “Is he dead?”
She shook her head. “But … but he’s sorely injured. He cannot stay awake more than a few moments at a time. Some of it is Mona is keeping him sedated due to the pain and to keep him still until his wounds start to knit properly. Some of it is that he lost so much blood before it could be brought under control.”
A man came through the cabin door and smiling brightly asked, “Are you upsetting my wife?”
“Robbie,” I said by way of greeting.
“Well, your head can’t be too damaged if you recognize me.”
Dealing with a headache and annoyance I rasped, “I won’t be the only one with a damaged head if you persist in being that silly.”
Docia squealed in delight making me shudder as she cried, “Oh she’s better! I knew it! Topher!! Come quick, she’s awake and fussing like her old self!!”
I groaned and Robbie’s smile got even wider. “Serves you right you know for worrying everyone.”
He was trying to tease me into forgetting the questions I wanted answers to. “It won’t work. Move so I can get up. I have to know what is going on. I’ll … I’ll be needed … I … I think …”
Flashes of memory – real or imagined I’m not sure – reminded me of the looks that were turned my way … the horror, the disgust. I blanched. Robbie saw and said, “None of that. How long have you known you were a berserker?”
“A … a what?” I asked, thinking it was some mental condition that would have me locked up for everyone else’s safety.
He looked at me. “Hmmm. Docia mentioned she saw you in this state once before … or rather after you’d experienced it. It was when your family was killed.”
Shamefaced I looked away from him. I’d barely been keeping my feelings at bay and to be reminded so baldly was almost more than I could bear.
“Easy Fel,” he said kindly. “Usually it is men who have this trait. Some seem to … to wallow in it almost like it is a talent; some in fact ritualistically seek such a state. From what I see however I take it that you do not.”
“Lord no,” I whispered in disgust. “I’m … I’m a monster. What person in their right mind would want to be that … that thing I was … to put all they care for in harms way … to completely lose control …” I shuddered again and wished I’d never woken up.
Robbie for his part pulled a chair up to the side of the bed I faced and said, “Fel, there are things in life that we cannot always easily control. Why God burdens us with such aspects I cannot tell you. Perhaps it is a challenge that we have to face, to overcome, to give us a goal so as to be better people. Perhaps He gives us those aspects so that at His time and His control He can use those aspects for His own purpose. Who knows, I do not. But I can tell you what a beserker is so you can better understand the state you were in.”
He became the professional doctor and despite myself I listened. “Berserker is just an old name for it. A more modern term is battle trance. If you read the books from before the Dark Days it is a term denoting a specific and altered state of consciousness – a purely psychological state if you will – that is brought on by stressful situations or in some cases purposely sought through wrote actions designed to create the trance. While in the trance state the person rarely, if at all, feels fear or pain. They can act very differently from what their normal daily behavior is – from extreme altruism such as when a mother will sacrifice all to save her child with absolutely no thought for her own life – what I call the mother bear effect in the extreme – to being outwardly aggressive to the point of a killing rage.”
“That’s me … a madwoman killing …”
He shook his head. “Did you hear me mention madness? You are no more mad than I. I suspect subconsciously you’ve known or at least suspected about this personality trait and you’ve done everything you can to avoid activating it. From what I’ve seen it takes something extreme to bring it out. In fact,” he grimaced. “If your trance state were that easy to bring about it would have come out at least once during all the times that your life has been threatened over the years. It has not. The only time it has come about is when …”
“Enough,” I said trying to find the strength to prove to him I didn’t want to hear the rest.
“Very well, but hopefully you understand and will not descend into self-pity.”
I croaked, “Self-pity?!”
“Good. Outrage. Use it. Get better Fel. You are needed.” At my continued look of stubbornness he sighed. “You are not mad … in love yes but that’s not really madness in the traditional sense.”
I gasped. Robbie smiled kindly. “Docia and I discuss everything Fel. And I think my cousin is lucky to have you. The problem is that after Uncle Lee died Cor began to develop an oversized attachment to his honor.”
“There’s not a thing wrong with his honor,” I said hotly.
“Not if it comes with commonsense. He allowed what he thought was his honor to lock him into a situation that no matter what he could have done was only bound to get worse.” He forestalled me with a raised hand. “No, I’m not trying to second guess him Fel, hindsight is much more clear than foresight. But once the trouble with Francine began he – both of you – tried to manage it yourselves with no help. You tried to keep it hidden when you could no longer deny that there were problems beyond what normally would have occurred during a marriage.”
“Are you saying that … that it is our fault that Francine … that she …”
“No! Perish that thought now.” He sighed. “Francine must take full responsibility for that, but at the same time she may well be beyond taking responsibility in full.” He shook his head. “Let us return to Cor. Mother and Father have done what they can for Cor. They are fairly certain he will not die.” His words stabbed me. “But more than medicine he needs to want to live and right now … right now that flame is not flickering very brightly.”
“Francine …”
“ … Is useless.” At my sharp look he said, “I know. The dunderhead loves – or at least the memory of what they once shared – her despite it all and I suppose that is what happens to every man at some point but we aren’t all blessed with happily ever afters. Mother and Father had no idea that Francine would inherit her mother’s temperament and then take it to this extreme.”
Trying to sit higher in the bed I asked, “You mean her mother wasn’t … wasn’t … this bad?”
“Well, at least you’re willing to discuss the truth of it,” he said. “No, she was not this bad. Nervous, frail, easily discombobulated, occasionally manipulative … all those yes but not so self-centered in her approach as Francine has become. Father thinks it is Francine’s addiction and the particular teas that she became dependent upon to manage her mood swings that have actually exacerbated the problem. She chose the teas rather than behavioral modifications to intervene and keep her balanced.”
Not quite understanding what he meant I asked, “Uh … be … behavioral mod … if … fications?”
Before he could explain Docia was back with Topher in tow. I spent a few minutes assuring myself that the boy was mending, making sure he was eating and letting his wounds get tended. “I’m minding Mistress Fel … but don’t ever scare yer ol’ Topher like that again. I didn’t fight off them crazy Outlanders only ter come home and lose yer. Yer’ve still got ter much ter teach me!”
I smiled for the first time since I awoke. But then I felt my eyes grow heavy and I nearly cursed. “Docia! What was in this mug?!”
She brushed the hair out of my eyes and gently took the mug from my suddenly limp hand. “I didn’t dose you silly … as if I’d risk you wrath over it … it’s only that nasty Sherpa tea you’re so ever loving fond of. What you’re feeling is your body telling you it is time to rest so listen to it Sister. Stop fighting and rest … you’ll need it.”
I woke the next morning in a start. I heard Topher whisper fiercely, “Now yer’ve done it Jonah. She’s awake and Mistress Docia is going ter tell Mrs. Wiley and we’ll be sitting in hot water and get no dinner.”
The older man snorted. “Yer leave me sister ter me. Gilly needs ter waken afore they leave. If we don’t fetch her she’ll ne’er forgive us.”
Sitting up groggily I asked, “Before who leaves?”
Jonah came to the bed and helped me to pull myself up. When I was upright but still on the bed he answered, “Them Lathrops … all of ‘em … including Miss Francie.”
“What?! She can’t!”
My head ached so badly it wanted to fall off … and I wouldn’t have minded if it had … but I shooed them out and struggled shakily to tie a skirt on over the top of my nightshirt. I wasn’t an appropriate outfit for polite society but it didn’t sound as if there was time to armor up and they would simply have to take me as I was.
At the door I leaned on Jonah. I could see that Topher wanted to pout about that but I told him, “How do you think it would make me feel if I was to lean too hard accidentally and tear at one of them scabs you likely have under those clothes you’re wearing?” When he realized I had at least considered leaning on him he seemed satisfied enough but he stuck to me like a shadow … a limping shadow but a plucky one.
It seemed to take forever but at least as I went along some of my strength seemed to be returning and I mounted the front porch stairs mostly under my own steam. I heard voices in the parlor and it was that direction I headed. Both Jonah and Topher stopped at the door and I entered alone.
Hazel saw me first and came forward. “Oh my Dear, I am so glad to see you awake.”
“Hazel,” I asked in a whisper. “What is going on?”
She fell silent and unusually docile as she looked behind me. Elder Lathrop had followed me into the room. He stood stiff and uncomfortable. “Mistress Fel,” he intoned. “Would you permit me to have a word with you?”
My first thought was you better believe it buster, but I merely nodded to him and followed him into the adjoining room. He closed the door behind me and said, “Perhaps after your ordeal you should sit.”
“I’ll stand,” I told him.
He sighed, “Very well. What I have to say is … uncomfortable.” He seemed reluctant to start but once he had I could well understand why he would feel that way.
Those were some exciting chapters tonight, and tomorrow when I can keep my eyes open, I'm going to read them again. Thank you Kathy you have been great keeping the chapters coming. I think this is the first time ever I am too tired to ask for more.
Rest well Kathy tomorrow I have a feeling I won't be the only one begging for more.
Rest well Kathy tomorrow I have a feeling I won't be the only one begging for more.
A berserker! What a turn of events, but foreshadowed in the battle on the river, the killing of the 5 men (and the run through the hedgerows) as well as how a child of 12 could kill her father's murderer. Very interesting. Self knowledge is coming to Fel- she is in love, she is a berserker, she belongs to the Estate and the Estate to her. She may reintegrate into an adult person- and maybe Cor will also, if he can be free of Francine. Whatever the penalties for divorce, there is an even stronger directive in this culture that the original family lines must be preserved, and Francine has cut off any possibility of an heir through her, at the same time showing that her bloodline is damaged. Bad breeding stock. Maybe enough to excuse a divorce, even for Elder Lathrop who wants to maintain the old ways, including keeping the old families going. Perhaps his wives pointed out that if Cor will not take Fel as his real wife as long as Francine is around, then Francine must be removed.
Fascinating, savory soup of fast action and complex emotions. Fel and her deeds have the making of a grand ballad or an epic, to be told for years to come.
Fascinating, savory soup of fast action and complex emotions. Fel and her deeds have the making of a grand ballad or an epic, to be told for years to come.
juco
Veteran Member
And that is why this story is better than chocolate. You can't re-eat chocolate (not the same chocolate, anyways).
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Exciting is right. Great chapters. Reminds me of one of my husbands Viking ancestors, his name was Skull Clever
Genevieve
working on it
heh heh, I have the same ancestry lol Must be why I picked a chick up over my head and threw her against a wall in a bar fight! *snickers*
"female dog" threw a loaded beer at me!.....how rude!
“Perhaps after your ordeal you should sit.”
“I’ll stand,” I told him."
Yep, Fel is finished with his garbage and his control over her life and Cor's life. I want to hear what he has to say to her, but more I want to hear what she has to say to him. And was Francine ever more to him than a pawn in his quest for more power and control? Will he be contrite in the face of the destruction he has suffered and for the destruction he has caused? Probably not.
Kathy, this is one of the best stories you have written and you have written some good ones. Thank you.
And yep, I'd pass up an entire pack of Hershey bars with almonds just to read the rest of this story.
“I’ll stand,” I told him."
Yep, Fel is finished with his garbage and his control over her life and Cor's life. I want to hear what he has to say to her, but more I want to hear what she has to say to him. And was Francine ever more to him than a pawn in his quest for more power and control? Will he be contrite in the face of the destruction he has suffered and for the destruction he has caused? Probably not.
Kathy, this is one of the best stories you have written and you have written some good ones. Thank you.
And yep, I'd pass up an entire pack of Hershey bars with almonds just to read the rest of this story.
Jeepcats 3
Contributing Member
Your writing Muse is channeling a totally intense, riveting and spellbinding story here!!!!!
I totally understand it is raging to get out and have you write this!!!!
Thank you!!!!!!!
Jeepcats3
I totally understand it is raging to get out and have you write this!!!!
Thank you!!!!!!!
Jeepcats3
Chapter 55
“As I am sure you are aware there is an … embarrassing situation … facing both our families.”
With Robbie’s words still ringing in my ears I forced myself to remain calm. “Embarrassing? Elder Lathrop this situation is well beyond a description that simple.”
The man sighed and then said, “Please Mistress Fel, let us sit. You may be young and of limitless capacity to bounce back from an injury but I am not.”
I started to look more closely at him but he forestalled me by shaking his head and saying, “It was a month ago but I am not a young man and this … this situation we find ourselves in has drained me.”
I gave him the benefit of the doubt and we both sat down. Frankly I was glad of the excuse to put my pride aside.
“Francine’s mother – her name was Eleanor - was the daughter of my best friend from boyhood. At one time I had even proposed that she become my own bride. But for some reason my friend discouraged me and as a result I allowed us to become less … close as the years progressed. It was only after his death that Eleanor married and I began to suspect that all was not as well as it could be and that my friend had been both trying to protect his own family as well as me; it has left me with bitter regrets, regrets that I have tried to make up for by watching over Eleanor’s daughter. Then Francine was born and for a time it seemed Eleanor well … but then she began to deteriorate; however, it was never unmanageable and was mostly attributable – or so it seemed – to a late in life case of the spots that caused her health to deteriorate significantly.” He smiled. “And Francine was an angel.” His smile faultered. “Or she was until she entered puberty. Unfortunately by that time she had drawn the attention of Lee Corman and his son, both of whom were frequent visitors to our estate.”
Staring at the past through the open window he continued. “You’ve heard of Lee’s … personality. Francine’s father and Lee were friends but there was also fear that should Lee come to know the truth that he would somehow use the information against the family for his own ends. Then Lee died but Cor continued to be smitten with Francine. To have denied him access after all that time would have created bad blood and raised questions that neither estate could afford given how closely we had become aligned by then.” He turned and looked at me. “I will say here Mistress Fel that our elders have not been united in the strategy that was chosen to expand the estate and its influence in Kipling. I am one that believes that rather than expansion, we should have curtailed our contact with the other families. Too many outside influences have distracted our families from our way of life and confused our children from the path they should trod. Many have chosen to seek a life outside our culture, a sad thing for us all as it drains our people. I and many others now believe that it has been this wonton desire for power that has brought our own destruction upon us. We will be a generation rebuilding what has been lost as our punishment for taking our eyes off our true purpose of being fruitful and multiplying.”
I couldn’t say much to that. Never having much of a purpose beyond survival I wasn’t going to tell this man and his people what their purpose should be. But I would have never chosen their way.
“And against good sense Francine’s father allowed her to marry … but note it was marriage outside of the Lathrop clan. He was trying to give her a proper future, one she would not have had had she remained on our estate, and was hoping that a marriage and child would settle her as it had her mother. There was never any suspicion on our side that Francine had started to … to dose herself to deal with her own issues – issues of separation from the steady and structured life she had always known and needed. Obviously she knew something was wrong and was trying to recreate her former life and she was encouraged by certain factions within our estate. Poor girl was as manipulated as Cor and had fewer defenses against it.”
I didn’t see it quite that way but I allowed him to continue uninterrupted.
“And now, now there is the aftermath.”
“I don’t see how running away will accomplish anything and it will hurt Cor who is already injured enough,” I told him forcefully.
Stiffly Elder Lathrop told me, “No one is running away young woman but this situation is unsupportable. Cor loving Francine is immaterial, a wrong must be righted. Unfortunately Francine is in no condition to make such reparations herself; nor can she be allowed to. Action must be taken on her behalf to safeguard her safety.”
“No one is threatening her!”
“Not yet. But if word spreads before we can enact a suitable recompense I have no doubt that they will. What she did …” At his word I realized the man was as shaken as any of us over what Francine’s actions had wrought. He tried to hide a look of disgust but was only mildly successful. “Neither of our estates are in any condition to withstand a full on onslaught by certain members of the Council. Corman cannot support the fines for a divorce, even one warranted in the eyes of all of Kipling … wait … I am not finished.” I was having a hard time maintaining my calm and he must have seen that. “And and our estate is already prodded at every turn by those seeking to subjugate us. There is only one action that will remove the weapons from the hands of our detractors Mistress Fel and I have decided, in the memory of my friend, to make the sacrifice.”
I wanted to ask him what in the blue blazes he was going on about but his next words effectively silenced me.
“We will transfer Francine’s matrimonial contract from Cor to me.”
I gagged. “What?!”
“In effect, Francine will divorce Cor and marry me.”
“And how exactly is that a solution?!” I was fast losing what grip I had on my calm.
“Young woman if you do not stop using that tone of voice …”
“Now listen here, do not threaten me. Cor isn’t here and while I may not have done a good of a job as he wanted in protecting Francine – I didn’t truly understand her greatest enemy was herself – I haven’t been released from that responsibility. I’m not going to turn her over to some fate I don’t understand much less am able to trust is true!”
He lips twisted sardonically. “Very well, I concede the point that you feel you have a responsibility to continue to safeguard Francine; but I assure you she was given a choice in the matter and has made the choice herself.”
“And what of Cor?” I asked outraged. “Has he been asked what he wants?”
“Cor is in no position to make his wishes known much less have them heard.” I was ready to blast him again but he continued on. “Whether you understand why or not in Kipling the laws were written in such a way to protect a woman’s position, to in essence protect the weaker sex. During the Dark Days too many females were abused with no way out of their predicament. The future of our population had to be insured and since it was most often the men that were the abusers …”
I spit, “Cor is about as far from abusive as you can get.”
He shook his head. “Do not be idealistic, it does not suit you. Cor’s … let us call it temperament … may not seem abusive to you as you are a strong individual with … hmmm … temperament issues of your own. Francine on the other hand is a delicate flower, one not able to withstand the rigors of Cor’s needs and attributes.”
I was ready to gag again.
“So he is a man … I still fail to see that as abusive. Sounds like you have a pretty good lock on your household yourself.”
Appreciatively he said, “Just so. On the other hand I’ve never had to raise my voice or hand to achieve my ends.”
Well, I didn’t know whether that was true or not so I had to let it pass except I did say, “Shouting is not the same thing as hitting.”
“To some. Not to others,” he replied calmly.
He had a response to everything I could say so I shut up.
He finally got down to nails and tacks as my Gramp would have said. “In our civilized society it is very difficult for a man to divorce a woman without severe repercussions. Divorce is not much easier for a female except under the circumstances where she is leaving an undesired marriage for a desired one. The husband being divorced can fight it …” he got a deceptively kind look on his face that warned me I wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “But he opens himself up to certain … accusations shall we say. Abusing a woman is a very serious offense in our society Mistress Fel. Even if you cannot see them as people and valuable in their own right, you must understand they are a resource that our society cannot live without.”
“Yeah, yeah … preservation of the species and all that. But Francine cannot have more children … and the one she did …”
His walking stick struck the floor. “THAT will not become known. I assure you the consequences for both of our families would be devastating.”
“Devastating because people would worry that the lot of you are crazy or …”
“Devastating because the death of a child – any child – is an offense warranting hanging. And as wrong as I believe that Francine has been, I cannot allow that to happen. She is ill and doesn’t truly understand what she has done.”
Horrified I said, “But if she’s ill surely no one would …”
“Oh I assure you they would. Madness is culled from our society as necessary. There is a demand that you either control your family or Kipling society will do it to protect the whole. Do you understand?”
Unfortunately I did. The Outlands was a brutal place. Many children that were seen as defective were left in the wilderness to live or die as the spirits decreed. The elderly were allowed to pass with dignity when at all possible. The injured and maimed were given the dignity of living or dying as was their wish so long as it did not burden the people. But madness was seen as a judgment on an entire town, village, or family and was rooted out and destroyed whenever it was at all suspected.
The Elder continued, “I will marry Francine and take her on as my responsibility. That will effectively end my opportunity to bring in any new wives to our family. I have spoken to my wives and they understand and agree that they will take over Francine’s care to make sure she is not a danger to herself nor anyone else. By accepting responsibility for her I remove that responsibility from Cor’s shoulders which will allow him to move forward unburdened so that he can contribute to Kipling’s future unfettered. What you personally make of it is your own responsibility.”
“What if Cor doesn’t wish to rid himself of the responsibility of Francine. He loves her.”
He shook his head. “Such idealism. Who would have thought it of an Outlander?” He sighed and then very directly and succinctly said, “In this particular case love is insufficient. Cor is incapable of providing the care and constant attention that Francine needs. More importantly he has an obligation to allow Francine to go leave if she wishes to and I assure you she does. However, since you seem so unexpectedly protective of her I will allow you to question her on this yourself. But be warned, I now consider Francine under my strict protection and I will not allow her to be upset.”
With that he stood and then left the room and Hazel brought Francine in. I got the creeps as soon as I saw her. She was calm … too calm. I knew right away she’d been drinking those teas of hers again. But what choice did I have? I had to try and reach her, if not for Cor’s sake then for her own. Did she truly know what she was doing or was it only a bit of revenge she was after?
“You can't leave him like this Francine,” I told her. “I'll leave, go off someplace since you hate me so, but don't leave him. Don't punish him because of me. He's barely clinging to life; this could send him over the edge. If it’s begging you want of me, I'll do it. Please ...”
An arrogance that always lurked beneath her dealings with me tinged her voice when she said, “Nothing you can say will change my mind ...” But then in a false voice of forgiveness she added, “I do not hate you Fel, I feel sorry for you.”
However, some anger and resentment began to show through her façade as she said, “You could have been a co-wife with me and instead you chose this PATHETIC half-life. Even then I don't truly blame you. You are from the Outlands and know no better. No, it is Cor that I cannot live with, whose choices have cut me too deep. He married me knowing who I was. I married him sure that I could bring him to understand the joy that could be found if he would live the way I wanted. My aunts and the elders said that I could be one of the first to spread our joy to others. It should have worked. It would have worked. But it didn't and the only reason is because there is something inherently wrong with Cor. I do not know what it is but I cannot live with it.”
Outraged I said, “Something inherently wrong with Cor?! You are the one that drank those infernal teas even knowing what they could do!”
In true anger she said, “I would not have been forced to put myself and my baby at such risk if Cor had been a better man.”
I was as close as the width of a shade to scratching the cat’s eyes out right then and there. Francine had always had the ability to set me off and I should have been more prepared for it. But I wasn’t; the sheer injustice of it all was like a boulder in my chest.
Topher saved me. He had slipped into the room unnoticed and then just appeared at my side. Sounding far too old for his age he said, “Let her go Mistress Fel. She's made her choice and may she have the joy of it." He spit and then added, "At least the woman who bore me let me draw breath and didn't try and rid herself of me with potions and poisons just to have her way."
“As I am sure you are aware there is an … embarrassing situation … facing both our families.”
With Robbie’s words still ringing in my ears I forced myself to remain calm. “Embarrassing? Elder Lathrop this situation is well beyond a description that simple.”
The man sighed and then said, “Please Mistress Fel, let us sit. You may be young and of limitless capacity to bounce back from an injury but I am not.”
I started to look more closely at him but he forestalled me by shaking his head and saying, “It was a month ago but I am not a young man and this … this situation we find ourselves in has drained me.”
I gave him the benefit of the doubt and we both sat down. Frankly I was glad of the excuse to put my pride aside.
“Francine’s mother – her name was Eleanor - was the daughter of my best friend from boyhood. At one time I had even proposed that she become my own bride. But for some reason my friend discouraged me and as a result I allowed us to become less … close as the years progressed. It was only after his death that Eleanor married and I began to suspect that all was not as well as it could be and that my friend had been both trying to protect his own family as well as me; it has left me with bitter regrets, regrets that I have tried to make up for by watching over Eleanor’s daughter. Then Francine was born and for a time it seemed Eleanor well … but then she began to deteriorate; however, it was never unmanageable and was mostly attributable – or so it seemed – to a late in life case of the spots that caused her health to deteriorate significantly.” He smiled. “And Francine was an angel.” His smile faultered. “Or she was until she entered puberty. Unfortunately by that time she had drawn the attention of Lee Corman and his son, both of whom were frequent visitors to our estate.”
Staring at the past through the open window he continued. “You’ve heard of Lee’s … personality. Francine’s father and Lee were friends but there was also fear that should Lee come to know the truth that he would somehow use the information against the family for his own ends. Then Lee died but Cor continued to be smitten with Francine. To have denied him access after all that time would have created bad blood and raised questions that neither estate could afford given how closely we had become aligned by then.” He turned and looked at me. “I will say here Mistress Fel that our elders have not been united in the strategy that was chosen to expand the estate and its influence in Kipling. I am one that believes that rather than expansion, we should have curtailed our contact with the other families. Too many outside influences have distracted our families from our way of life and confused our children from the path they should trod. Many have chosen to seek a life outside our culture, a sad thing for us all as it drains our people. I and many others now believe that it has been this wonton desire for power that has brought our own destruction upon us. We will be a generation rebuilding what has been lost as our punishment for taking our eyes off our true purpose of being fruitful and multiplying.”
I couldn’t say much to that. Never having much of a purpose beyond survival I wasn’t going to tell this man and his people what their purpose should be. But I would have never chosen their way.
“And against good sense Francine’s father allowed her to marry … but note it was marriage outside of the Lathrop clan. He was trying to give her a proper future, one she would not have had had she remained on our estate, and was hoping that a marriage and child would settle her as it had her mother. There was never any suspicion on our side that Francine had started to … to dose herself to deal with her own issues – issues of separation from the steady and structured life she had always known and needed. Obviously she knew something was wrong and was trying to recreate her former life and she was encouraged by certain factions within our estate. Poor girl was as manipulated as Cor and had fewer defenses against it.”
I didn’t see it quite that way but I allowed him to continue uninterrupted.
“And now, now there is the aftermath.”
“I don’t see how running away will accomplish anything and it will hurt Cor who is already injured enough,” I told him forcefully.
Stiffly Elder Lathrop told me, “No one is running away young woman but this situation is unsupportable. Cor loving Francine is immaterial, a wrong must be righted. Unfortunately Francine is in no condition to make such reparations herself; nor can she be allowed to. Action must be taken on her behalf to safeguard her safety.”
“No one is threatening her!”
“Not yet. But if word spreads before we can enact a suitable recompense I have no doubt that they will. What she did …” At his word I realized the man was as shaken as any of us over what Francine’s actions had wrought. He tried to hide a look of disgust but was only mildly successful. “Neither of our estates are in any condition to withstand a full on onslaught by certain members of the Council. Corman cannot support the fines for a divorce, even one warranted in the eyes of all of Kipling … wait … I am not finished.” I was having a hard time maintaining my calm and he must have seen that. “And and our estate is already prodded at every turn by those seeking to subjugate us. There is only one action that will remove the weapons from the hands of our detractors Mistress Fel and I have decided, in the memory of my friend, to make the sacrifice.”
I wanted to ask him what in the blue blazes he was going on about but his next words effectively silenced me.
“We will transfer Francine’s matrimonial contract from Cor to me.”
I gagged. “What?!”
“In effect, Francine will divorce Cor and marry me.”
“And how exactly is that a solution?!” I was fast losing what grip I had on my calm.
“Young woman if you do not stop using that tone of voice …”
“Now listen here, do not threaten me. Cor isn’t here and while I may not have done a good of a job as he wanted in protecting Francine – I didn’t truly understand her greatest enemy was herself – I haven’t been released from that responsibility. I’m not going to turn her over to some fate I don’t understand much less am able to trust is true!”
He lips twisted sardonically. “Very well, I concede the point that you feel you have a responsibility to continue to safeguard Francine; but I assure you she was given a choice in the matter and has made the choice herself.”
“And what of Cor?” I asked outraged. “Has he been asked what he wants?”
“Cor is in no position to make his wishes known much less have them heard.” I was ready to blast him again but he continued on. “Whether you understand why or not in Kipling the laws were written in such a way to protect a woman’s position, to in essence protect the weaker sex. During the Dark Days too many females were abused with no way out of their predicament. The future of our population had to be insured and since it was most often the men that were the abusers …”
I spit, “Cor is about as far from abusive as you can get.”
He shook his head. “Do not be idealistic, it does not suit you. Cor’s … let us call it temperament … may not seem abusive to you as you are a strong individual with … hmmm … temperament issues of your own. Francine on the other hand is a delicate flower, one not able to withstand the rigors of Cor’s needs and attributes.”
I was ready to gag again.
“So he is a man … I still fail to see that as abusive. Sounds like you have a pretty good lock on your household yourself.”
Appreciatively he said, “Just so. On the other hand I’ve never had to raise my voice or hand to achieve my ends.”
Well, I didn’t know whether that was true or not so I had to let it pass except I did say, “Shouting is not the same thing as hitting.”
“To some. Not to others,” he replied calmly.
He had a response to everything I could say so I shut up.
He finally got down to nails and tacks as my Gramp would have said. “In our civilized society it is very difficult for a man to divorce a woman without severe repercussions. Divorce is not much easier for a female except under the circumstances where she is leaving an undesired marriage for a desired one. The husband being divorced can fight it …” he got a deceptively kind look on his face that warned me I wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “But he opens himself up to certain … accusations shall we say. Abusing a woman is a very serious offense in our society Mistress Fel. Even if you cannot see them as people and valuable in their own right, you must understand they are a resource that our society cannot live without.”
“Yeah, yeah … preservation of the species and all that. But Francine cannot have more children … and the one she did …”
His walking stick struck the floor. “THAT will not become known. I assure you the consequences for both of our families would be devastating.”
“Devastating because people would worry that the lot of you are crazy or …”
“Devastating because the death of a child – any child – is an offense warranting hanging. And as wrong as I believe that Francine has been, I cannot allow that to happen. She is ill and doesn’t truly understand what she has done.”
Horrified I said, “But if she’s ill surely no one would …”
“Oh I assure you they would. Madness is culled from our society as necessary. There is a demand that you either control your family or Kipling society will do it to protect the whole. Do you understand?”
Unfortunately I did. The Outlands was a brutal place. Many children that were seen as defective were left in the wilderness to live or die as the spirits decreed. The elderly were allowed to pass with dignity when at all possible. The injured and maimed were given the dignity of living or dying as was their wish so long as it did not burden the people. But madness was seen as a judgment on an entire town, village, or family and was rooted out and destroyed whenever it was at all suspected.
The Elder continued, “I will marry Francine and take her on as my responsibility. That will effectively end my opportunity to bring in any new wives to our family. I have spoken to my wives and they understand and agree that they will take over Francine’s care to make sure she is not a danger to herself nor anyone else. By accepting responsibility for her I remove that responsibility from Cor’s shoulders which will allow him to move forward unburdened so that he can contribute to Kipling’s future unfettered. What you personally make of it is your own responsibility.”
“What if Cor doesn’t wish to rid himself of the responsibility of Francine. He loves her.”
He shook his head. “Such idealism. Who would have thought it of an Outlander?” He sighed and then very directly and succinctly said, “In this particular case love is insufficient. Cor is incapable of providing the care and constant attention that Francine needs. More importantly he has an obligation to allow Francine to go leave if she wishes to and I assure you she does. However, since you seem so unexpectedly protective of her I will allow you to question her on this yourself. But be warned, I now consider Francine under my strict protection and I will not allow her to be upset.”
With that he stood and then left the room and Hazel brought Francine in. I got the creeps as soon as I saw her. She was calm … too calm. I knew right away she’d been drinking those teas of hers again. But what choice did I have? I had to try and reach her, if not for Cor’s sake then for her own. Did she truly know what she was doing or was it only a bit of revenge she was after?
“You can't leave him like this Francine,” I told her. “I'll leave, go off someplace since you hate me so, but don't leave him. Don't punish him because of me. He's barely clinging to life; this could send him over the edge. If it’s begging you want of me, I'll do it. Please ...”
An arrogance that always lurked beneath her dealings with me tinged her voice when she said, “Nothing you can say will change my mind ...” But then in a false voice of forgiveness she added, “I do not hate you Fel, I feel sorry for you.”
However, some anger and resentment began to show through her façade as she said, “You could have been a co-wife with me and instead you chose this PATHETIC half-life. Even then I don't truly blame you. You are from the Outlands and know no better. No, it is Cor that I cannot live with, whose choices have cut me too deep. He married me knowing who I was. I married him sure that I could bring him to understand the joy that could be found if he would live the way I wanted. My aunts and the elders said that I could be one of the first to spread our joy to others. It should have worked. It would have worked. But it didn't and the only reason is because there is something inherently wrong with Cor. I do not know what it is but I cannot live with it.”
Outraged I said, “Something inherently wrong with Cor?! You are the one that drank those infernal teas even knowing what they could do!”
In true anger she said, “I would not have been forced to put myself and my baby at such risk if Cor had been a better man.”
I was as close as the width of a shade to scratching the cat’s eyes out right then and there. Francine had always had the ability to set me off and I should have been more prepared for it. But I wasn’t; the sheer injustice of it all was like a boulder in my chest.
Topher saved me. He had slipped into the room unnoticed and then just appeared at my side. Sounding far too old for his age he said, “Let her go Mistress Fel. She's made her choice and may she have the joy of it." He spit and then added, "At least the woman who bore me let me draw breath and didn't try and rid herself of me with potions and poisons just to have her way."
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Smart little boy there. Thank you for a chapter this mornng.