Alis

2
The wagon that took Alis and Sarah southward was a lumbering thing and not the most comfortable for a two-week journey, but Alis did not care. As it rocked past the outlying farm-houses and toward the Two Rivers Community, her heart beat faster. Here she was, many miles away from Minister Galin, many miles nearer the city. Perhaps the Maker was on her side after all.
They were entering a cobbled square surrounded by stone houses. At its center was a high wooden platform and surmounting it, a tall post. Alis wondered what it was but Sarah had sunk into silence as they neared their destination, huddling against the cushions as if she would disappear into them. It was useless to question her.
The wagon swayed to a halt outside the prayer house—a larger building than the rest, with the great circle of the Maker carved into the stone above the doorway, as in Freeborne. The wagon driver jumped down and came round to help them. Timidly Alis reached out a hand to her companion.
“I think we are arrived, Mistress Sarah.”
Sarah nodded. She was pale, but she smiled tremulously and took the proffered hand.
The sunlight in the square fell upon gray stone and weathered wood. There were few people about—a couple of women in dark gowns and shawls, a man carrying a length of wood, a long-legged boy swinging a mason’s hammer from his right hand. No one took any notice of them. Alis shivered a little in the chill wind. With their bundles at their feet, she and her companion said good-bye to the driver, who heaved himself up onto his seat again and clicked his tongue at the patient horses. The wagon creaked away, leaving silence behind.
Sarah seemed at a loss, so after a moment Alis said carefully, “What must we do now, Mistress Sarah? Will someone meet us perhaps or . . .”
She broke off, for coming across the square toward them was a man. He was dressed in black, his dark hair cut very short. Sarah gasped and stiffened. As he came up to them, Alis saw that he was smiling to himself as if at some private joke. It was not a pleasant smile.
“Well, Wife”—the tone was light, almost friendly—“so you have come back to me at last. I almost thought you were gone forever.” He took Sarah’s hand and she winced.
“No, of course not. How foolish of you, Thomas. Where would I . . . I mean . . . marriage is a sacred state, is it not?”
“Where would you go indeed, my dear? Not to your sister’s certainly, from where I should surely come to fetch you and bring you back to your sacred duty as a wife.”
He had released Sarah’s hand, and the flesh was white where he had gripped it. He was still smiling, his eyebrows raised mockingly. He was a handsome man to be sure, Alis thought, but not one it would be wise to cross. Now he was turning to her.
“And who is this? I did not know that we were to have a visitor. I have made no preparation.”
Sarah began to stammer a reply, but he waved her aside.
“Your young companion can account for herself, I doubt not. If she is from your sister’s Community, she will be more used to speech than silence. The women there are as free as the men with their words, I hear.”
The challenge was unmistakable, but Alis was on her guard. She must do nothing to offend here or she might be sent home and lose her chance of reaching the city. So she said in her most submissive tone, “My name is Alis, Master Thomas. I am the daughter of Mistress Hannah and Master Reuben. My mother is the Senior Elder of our Community, and Minister Galin is my pastor. I have a letter for you from my mother, who hopes that I might stay here awhile and keep Mistress Sarah company, if you will give your permission.”
He raised his eyebrows again but said in a milder tone, “A well-taught girl. You have good manners. Well, I daresay we can find a bed for you, and it will be a change to have a female about the place who is not always ailing and weeping.”
He threw his wife a contemptuous glance and began to collect the heaviest of the bundles.
The house was narrow and tall, squeezed into a corner of the square. Inside, there was a long, dark passageway to the kitchen and a cramped staircase leading to the upper floors. Thomas summoned a servant girl, a scrawny rag of a creature with lank brown hair and a sallow, bitter face. Without a word she took the first bundle and disappeared up the stairs. Thomas motioned his wife and Alis to follow her.
On the first floor there were two rooms—one for study and prayer, and a place for dining. Above were two bedchambers, and still higher, an attic room. The door to this opened to reveal a dark space under the steeply sloping roof, with two narrow beds and a washstand. Here, Alis understood, she was to sleep, sharing the space with the servant girl, Lilith. Judging by her expression, Lilith was not pleased at this, but she said nothing and disappeared, leaving Alis alone to unpack her clothes.
In the study below, Master Thomas had seated himself at the table with his arms folded. When Alis appeared at the doorway, wondering what she should do, he beckoned her in.
“Come in, girl. My wife, I am sure, would welcome your presence. It will dilute for her the effects of my own.”
Sarah was sitting in the rocking chair by the empty fireplace. There were traces of tears on her cheeks and she was twisting her fingers nervously.
“I do not wish to intrude, Master Thomas.” Alis spoke carefully. It would not do to appear other than dutiful with this man but neither did she intend to show fear of him.
“There is nothing here to intrude on. My wife is unable to tell me what she has been doing these four months, though surely she must have found something worthy of report among her sister’s people. Perhaps you can enlighten me.”
Alis wondered what he wanted to know. Surely news of Leah’s children and the daily gossip could be of no interest to him.
“What is it you would like to hear of, Master Thomas? I will certainly tell you what I can.”
He smiled his grim smile and nodded to his wife. “You see, my dear, it is simple. Merely a matter of opening your mouth without bursting into tears. Even this child can do it.”
Sarah stifled a sob and made to get up out of her seat. At once he was on his feet and standing over her.
“Stay where you are! Do you think I will tolerate your retreating to bed this first evening, after an absence of four months? Besides, we have a guest.” And seating himself again, he turned once more to Alis.
“You may tell me first about my wife’s sister. A fine woman, if a little overeager to be bedded. Does she thrive? Is there word of that idiot boy, her husband?”
“There is no news that I know of, Master Thomas. I do not think Leah expects to hear from him again.”
“You mean Mistress Leah, do you not?” His voice was icy and Alis realized that she had already made a mistake.
“Yes indeed, Mistress Leah, of course. I beg your pardon, Master Thomas. My mother . . . sometimes speaks of her by name only and . . .”
He seemed satisfied. “Continue.”
Treading carefully, Alis told him what she could of Leah and the children. He wanted to know whether the little ones were well governed, and she hesitated. The boy, Peter, was full of mischief, always up to something—tumbling out of trees and falling into streams; pestering the older boys to take him fishing, then getting in the way and spoiling their sport.
Instinct told her that Thomas would disapprove of all this so she merely said, “The children are lively but good at heart, and very loving to their mother.” Then she turned quickly to other subjects—the farmer Ahab’s accident and the fire at an outlying grain store. She could not see why these things should interest him but he listened attentively. When she paused, at a loss for further tales to tell, he said, “And what about your good Minister? Is he not married yet? The Great Council has said that all Ministers must marry.”
Alis felt herself flushing and hoped he would not notice, but she said as calmly as she could, “He is not married yet, Master Thomas. And if it is to be, there is no word of it that I have heard, but I am not yet fifteen and not like to hear of such great doings until they are announced to everyone.”
“You say your mother is the senior Elder. You must hear a good deal unless she is more discreet than most of her sex.”
Alis bit back a sharp reply. He meant to provoke her, and she would not give him that satisfaction.
“My mother does not speak of such matters before me, Master Thomas, I assure you.”
Even as she spoke, she felt herself reddening again. Who knew better than she about Minister Galin’s marriage? She was to be his wife, was she not? And perhaps he would turn out to be like this man who sat before her with his jeering look, while his wife stifled her sobs in the corner. But she would not marry Galin. By the Maker’s good grace she had escaped this far. Surely she would make it to the city.
She hoped her blushing would not prompt Thomas to question her further on the subject of marriage; she was not used to lying. Fortunately, he was turning his attention to more immediate matters.
“Go, Sarah, and see that Lilith is preparing the supper. It is time that we should eat, and I am sure that Alis has an appetite after so long a journey, even if you are too sickly to swallow so much as a mouthful.”
As his wife scuttled from the room, grateful to escape her husband’s presence for a few minutes, Alis wondered why he spoke so harshly to Sarah. To be sure, her feebleness could be very provoking. If only she would not cry so often and so much! Surely if she showed a little more spirit, her husband might be less inclined to crush her?
Sarah, however, seemed more crushed than ever over the meal. She barely spoke and only picked at her food, so that Thomas complained of the waste. Lilith served them in silence, scowling when her master spoke to her sharply for some carelessness.
When the eating was done and the prayer of thanks to the Maker spoken, Thomas dismissed his wife to bed. As Alis moved to follow her out of the room, however, he said in a tone more courteous than she would have thought possible, “Pray you, Alis, sit up with me a little while if you are not too weary after your journey. There is more I would hear of your Community and its doings.”
In the doorway Sarah turned her head at his words and made as if to speak, giving him a frightened look, but a glance at her husband’s face silenced her, and she disappeared, leaving Alis alone with him.
He asked her first about her own occupations. Did she assist her mother in the Community? Did she read the Book every day? What other learning did she have? Did she wish to be an Elder like her mother? This she thought unwise to admit, but she saw no harm in telling him of her hope that she might be one day be a midwife, helping to bring young ones into the world. His lips curled in what might have been a smile.
“And has a husband been proposed to you that you have set your heart on this? You must be a married woman to be a midwife, must you not?”
Once more Alis felt herself flush. “No husband has yet been suggested, Master Thomas, although I know that my parents are beginning to give it thought.” Her heart beat with anger at the memory of how much thought they had given it and where it had led.
He was watching her closely. “Perhaps you have ideas of your own on the subject? There is some young man of your Community who has won you with kindness and soft words.”
She shook her head, wishing he would change the subject, but it clearly interested him.
“You are content for your parents to choose for you? You wish to have no say in the matter?”
“I have not given it much thought. My mother”—she broke off, momentarily choked with rage at the lie she must tell—“my mother says that there is plenty of time and that she will not hurry me.”
Her mother had indeed said that . . . once. She would never, never forgive her.
Thomas was not done with the subject yet. How she wished he would let her go to bed.
“You are fourteen, I think you said.”
“Yes, Master Thomas. I will be fifteen in two months.”
“And you would like to have children of your own?”
“I think so, in good time. Do not all women wish it when they are married?”
“If they are worthy daughters of the Book they do. Not all women are so.”
She wondered if he was talking of his own wife. There was no sign of children in the house. Abruptly changing the subject he said, “Your Minister has a name for mildness among the Communities. They say he would rather pity sin than punish it. Is it true?”
She was startled by this. Minister Galin had always seemed to her a strict man: insistent on the rules, sparing of praise, and not much given to smiling. She would not have called him mild.
“He is . . .”
She did not know what to say. How could she talk naturally about the man from whom she had fled? She must answer Thomas’s questions, but it was like putting her finger in fire to speak of Galin. With an effort she said, “The people say he is hard but just. And with us . . . the young ones, I mean . . . he always seems to know when we have done wrong, as if he can see us even when we think we are hidden.”
As she spoke she shuddered, wondering if indeed Galin knew what she was about, and would send after her to bring her home before she could make her escape.
“You do not like him?” Thomas spoke softly.
She looked at him. Was he trying to trap her so that he could rebuke her for her lack of respect? Nervously she said, “He is my pastor. I am under his judgment. It is not for me . . .”
He laughed at this and his laugh, like his smile, was not a pleasant one.
“Well, Alis, I thank you for your company, but it grows late and you are in need of your bed, I doubt not. We will converse more on these matters, if you will do me that kindness.”
She smiled her agreement, flinching inwardly from the mockery of his tone. If she would do him that kindness! What choice did she have?
In the tiny attic chamber, Lilith was already snoring. Alis put out the candle Thomas had given her—no doubt he would be displeased if she wasted it—but sleep did not come for many hours.