Chapter 1: Village Paths
My village was a small mining town just west of the great Kingdom of Northumbria. It was simply called Erich. I had lived amongst those mountains until I became old enough to be of no use. That is where my story began.
Early one fall morning on my 15th year I started the day in that dirty little town as I always had. I got up from my simple straw bed and walked nimbly to the small basin to try to wash the soot from my face. It was useless, after all. No matter how much I removed, one step outside would lead to my becoming covered once again. Every mining town is this way. Soot fills the air and lungs, blackens the eyes of the miners and the lips of the wives they kissed. The children played in it as if it were sand using bits of stone as their treasure that they must bury, find, and re-bury for their own amusement.
That morning I got dressed in my normal dress of cotton undergarments and socks, leather shoes, and a burgundy wool bilaut. This dress made me feel beautiful. The color set my grey eyes ablaze and seemed to give my long dark brown hair a copper shine to it. Although this seems a fancy color for such a small town, most of the women wore some form of red. The wild roses and poppies in the surrounding area lead to our people learning how to extract the dye from such flowers and to use it for our linens. We gained some remuneration by offering our services to travelers who wished to bear such lush colored cloth. Mostly the men chose to wear black, gray, or brown. This was mostly due to the fact that many a man worked in the mine and thus color was of no need as it would all become black in time.
Mother was out in the yard feeding the sheep what fruit we had that had rotted, looking to see if we could get one more bushel of wool from them before the winter winds came. Father had gone off to the mines before the sun had risen as he had every day that I can remember only to come back when his skin matched the night he walked home in.
I walked over to mother to say hello. She turned at the sound of my footsteps and her smile became a little less, almost sad. Mother was always a little uneasy. She was always wringing things in her hands, worrying about money or food or clothes. We were not rich by any means, but we seemed to almost always manage to have food at our table and clothes on our backs.
“maidin mhaith, máthair” (Good Morning, Mother)
With a slight pause, she replied “maidin mhaith, iníon” (Good Morning, Daughter) and went back to feeding the sheep.
I sighed. “What is the matter? You seem unwell this day.”
She kept silent for a moment more, then asked “ Have you seen your father? He has not been home since the morning before this.”
I never noticed when father came home as he was a silent man who never wished to speak. He came home and ate in his room or came home long after dinner had past and all were asleep.
“No, Máthair”.
She did not seem surprised, but more worried as she rung the rubbery celery in her hands while the sheep ate that pieces she had thrown.
“I assumed he went to work and was to be back late, but he did not come home last night.” Mother said.
“Will you go look amongst the shops for me? And if he’s not there, at the tunnel entrance to the mountain. He may have woken from his adventures and gone to work.”
Adventures indeed. Mother liked to cover up the fact that father drank too much. But alas, I could not let mother worry until the celery became mush in her hands.
“Of course, Máthair. I’ll be back soon”.
She smiled wryly and turned back to her duties, the circles dark under her eyes.
I went inside and filled a pouch with some apples and bread for the journey. I left before my mother had finished out in the yard and waved goodbye. She did not look up. I sighed and went on my way.
I reached town before noon and weaved my way through the marketplace to the local pub. No sign of father. I tried the inn. Maybe he had realized he would not make it home and slept here? I walked to the counter and felt a sudden unease when my eyes landed on the disheveled gray hair and greasy face that was the man at the counter. I asked the man about father. The innkeeper looked me up and down in a very un-christian way.
“Miners daughter, aye?” he smiled.
“Do you think your father could afford to stay here?” He reached out and pushed my hair back. I sneered and stepped back.
“Nevermind.”
I left in a moment and glanced back to glare at him. He just stared and smiled. How disgusting.
Father was nowhere in town that I could see. I even checked the alleys and gutters in case he had fallen in.
I walked the mile to the north to the mountains tunnel entrance. Although the men were deep in the tunnels working, the blacksmiths squire, Acair, had set up shop near by to fix the broken picks that were sure to happen. He was a nice lad, about 17, who had been working the the town blacksmith for a few years now. We here childhood friends, but we had not said much to one another since the night he got a wailing for his “misconduct”. His father found us asleep on hillside after a day of trying to catch rabbits. We were only about 6 and strayed too far from home. We had gotten lost and grew tired and laid down to sleep. Man and women never even registered to us yet at that young age. However, his father thought it would scar the family name. We were not allowed to see one another again.
I gingerly walked up, trying to make eye contact from as far away as possible. Acair looked up. He smiled.
“Erra! It has been a long time. Not out chasing rabbits are you?” He fained fear, looking around and under counters, his eyes darting”. I laughed, relieved.
“No rabbits today. Just looking for my Athair. Have you seen him?”
His eyes shifted up in thought.
“mmm….no I do not think I have seen him today. When did you last see him?”
“ Máthair has not seen him since two mornings ago” I replied.
“He did not come home last night?” He asked.
“Correct, but please do not tell the men. If father is drinking already, I doubt I want to see what he will do if he gets any more stressed.”
He pretended to lock his lips. “My lips are sealed, my lady.”
“Thanks, Acair.” I smiled and excused myself, explaining that I needed to keep looking for mothers sake. He understood and waved goodbye as I walked down the road back towards town.
Having spent my day away looking for father, I reached town and stopped to eat my apples and bread, preparing for the journey back home. Hopefully father had returned on his own. Feeling uneasy at the thought of returning to the house without him, I looked once more around town. No one had seen him, or refused to speak on the subject entirely. Feeling distraught, I decided to head home. The road was long and it would be dark soon. I realized I did not bring my cloak and sped up my pace.
It was sunset when I reached the halfway point to my home outside town. I felt an uneasiness and stopped to look behind me. No one was there, but it felt as though I was being watched. I turned and hurried up the road, bound for home, the unease deepening. I hear a cart coming down the road in front of me. Quickly, I hid myself behind a tree at the woods edge trying to stay out of sight. My heart quickens as the cart passes, my imagination making me fearful after a long and grueling day. The drowsy farmer rode his cart by without even noticing me in the shadows.
I let out a sigh and chuckled slightly at my silly behavior. What would anyone want with me? I started back onto the road when I heard a loud crack from the woods behind me. Then I felt it. Something had hit my head hard and my sight left me. All I could feel was the mossy floor hit my cheek before I lost myself to the dark.
- To Be Continued -
