Part Two

For six days Taro lived so close to us that it was like being followed by a great, dark shadow. He dogged my mother's footsteps whenever she was within doors and alone. As I have said this was not often, people came constantly, and she dispensed advice and remedies as before. What Taro made of this I can only guess. When the visitors came he was hidden in her sleeping room. When they had gone he emerged like the dark secret he was and he and my mother took up wherever they had left off. It wasn't that she took less care of her people, you understand, it was just that she cared less about it.

Taro's strength was of an obvious kind, yet my Mother seemed seduced by it in every sense. The first night he bided with us he slept on a pallet in the living room before the fire. I laid this down for him again the second night, but was not surprised to find it unused in the morning. I looked up from clearing away the unused pallet and saw them framed together in the doorway of my Mother's room, dark and light together. She took his hand so I should be in no doubt, but nothing else was said.

I had found him, but I was of no consequence to him. I had been her mainstay for so long through the troubled time and now, of a sudden, the confidences stopped. I do not think she confided in Taro either. It was unlike her. She had always valued a sounding board for her plans, her interpretations of things Seen, but now she was as silent as the grave. We were a strange menage. Nothing that touched us nearly was voiced. We spoke much of the outside world, learning all we could from Taro. Taro questioned us about our way of life and we answered him warily. Even seduced as she was my mother would not willingly give him our weaknesses to use against us. I could tell he found our ways bizarre, but that didn't prevent him from finding my mother's arms sweet. Weirdings had been laid on both sides, it seemed.

Tall and graceful as he was, Taro seemed caged inside our little home. His head brushed the beams, his robes swished into the fire, raising sparks. He was seldom still, his hands moved with every word he spoke and if he wasn't speaking he was usually working with his strange, curved knife - carving or slicing, paring his nails or even scraping his beard. The knife was very sharp. It drew me. I had never seen anything like it. It seemed a most appropriate thing for such a man to have. I no longer found him beautiful. Something awful glittered in his eyes.

By the time of the Meeting she was his woman. I thought of the prophesy of the Tree - it was apparent to me what must happen, but I couldn't see the path which she would tread when it did. I don't know whether she had such thoughts, we did not speak of it. She had taught me every action has its consequences. I felt my palms sweaty when I looked at them together - I was becoming afraid.

My mother had a strong sense of drama. On the evening of the Meeting we didn't leave home until the rest of the villagers had gathered. It was more than the desire for impact; she knew that for our people to find Taro sat beside her at Table when they came in would be alienating, for them to have her enter in their midst with a strange man in tow would lead to all kinds of speculation before she could explain his presence. By coming late and bringing him in her wake she hoped to control the situation. I admired the ploy and hoped she was right.

We came to the hall, my mother in front with Taro at her shoulder. I came last, just far enough behind to watch the faces. My mother opened both the doors wide and stood a moment framed there with him. His robes caught the light of the torches inside, but his dark face was all but invisible in the gloom of the porch. It seemed my mother was trailed by a glowing spectre. A buzz went through the room and necks craned our way, furniture scraped, then there was a silence. In this my mother swept down the room to her place. Taro followed her. She sat, he stood behind her chair. I hastened to my own place. I didn't rate a place at Table. I continued to watch faces, already I could see hostility. People do not like what they do not understand. Some change had blown in through the door with the swish of Taro's robes - they felt it like animals that scent a coming storm.

'Before we begin our business,' my mother said, 'I want to introduce to you this stranger to our community. This man has come to us seeking our strength. He came seeking women for his community which has been weakened by the recent plague. I have told him there are no women here to spare ...'. She paused. ' ... except myself and my daughter.'

There was a buzz in the hall. Several people turned to stare at me. I was of little value, they hoped she meant that I was to go, but I knew they couldn't bring themselves to believe it. Such an obvious couple did Taro and my mother make, the truth shone out of them.

'It has been in my heart to say to you that it is time to go back into the world. That was before this man came to us. I See in his coming a sign that my heart spoke truly.'

I wanted to stand and shout to her 'you lie - you haven't Seen this'. I had never heard her lie about her Sight before. This was all wrong and would lead to disaster. But her judgement was gone and her determination was plain.

'I seek your permission to go with this man to his home, to learn what may be learned; to help his people if I can and, if the Tree is to be believed, to bear his child.'

The buzz became a muted roar. She let it swell a moment, then raised her hands for silence. Accustomed to her as they were the hum subsided at her bidding.

'I have done here almost all that I can do. It is time for new ideas and strengths. You have taken from me all that I have. It is time for me to follow my own destiny - and time for new thoughts and minds to influence my life. I intend to leave with Taro soon, but not at once. There are tasks that I must finish and teaching that is appropriate now', she nodded at me, again the heads craned around, 'but in the fall of the year I would follow him to his place ...'

She got no further. It was her former suitors Graelin and Thetlar who were most vociferous. They kept their jealousy just below the surface and glossed over the opposition they had raised to her in the first days after the plague when she had become Leader. They reminded her of the duties consequent upon her talents. They reminded her of the love she bore her community, and the unfinished business evident on all sides. They told her they could not manage without her. I felt for her. They would make her a prisoner. Whatever befell, if she stayed it would be as an unwilling creature caged by duty. They drove her out as they denied her permission to go. My palms were clammy.

'Will you hear our visitor, before you make up your minds?' she asked.

Taro shifted and moistened his lips, aware of the importance of his first utterance, but he needn't have bothered. Graelin said,

'Maraha, we will not give you up to an Outlander, no matter what reasons he gives for taking you. If you must have this man and a child by him, then you and he can stay here.'

There was a low, male, growl of agreement through the hall.
He said can, but he meant must. I saw Taro shift his weight to the balls of his feet. He would fight for her, it was clear, it was his way. My mother felt him tense for the spring and put her hand on the wrist of his knife hand.

'Maraha, you have said that there are two of you who are eligible to assist this man. Let the other go, let your daughter Grehna go with him.'

'No! It is my wish that I go with him. We are bonded - it is not something I can choose or not as I will, it is ...

Again she got no further. They wanted no explanation. None would suffice. Never before had I understood how they viewed my mother. They valued her as a symbol, not as a woman, first among them. This symbol was part of the village. They would kill Taro, I believed, rather than let her go. I knew she felt it too.

'Let us go on to other matters. This one will keep. Let us speak of the Outside. Before Taro came I had it in my heart that it is time for us to go out and see how other places fared during the pestilence. Others will come, as Taro has come, seeking help and intercourse. It is time that we reach out again into the world and take our place in it. What say you?'

There was a disgruntled muttering. This variation seemed hardly better to them, they found it as unacceptable as they had found her first pronouncement. The same men who had spoken before repeated their fears in different words. They had fecund women and crops. Things were getting better - why jeopardise all that for curiosity?

'If we continue to isolate ourselves here we will, eventually, stagnate and begin to die.' My mother said.

'We know your interest in the matter. You it was who told us how to rebuild - from within - now, under the influence of this stranger, you want to destroy us. We will not listen to you.'

'If you will not listen to me,' she cried, patience at an end 'then let me go!'

But they would not. Her reputation was gone, but their possession of her was absolute and they demonstrated their power over her to her lover. They would not let her go.

After all this it was too anticlimactic to work through other business. A silence fell, most awkward. The crops and namings should have come first. The suggestion of rejoining the Outside should have come at the end of a happy and productive Meeting when everybody felt secure in the achievements of the community. But it was too late to undo the damage done. I couldn't see a way forward. My mother rose, placed her hands on the table and leaned towards them. She yearned to make them understand, but the wall of silent faces halted her. She thrust herself back from her hands and brushed against Taro. Me, out in the hall, buried in all those stony faces, she felt as much against her as the rest. Only Taro was with her. He put his arm quietly round her for a moment. They saw it. He pulled back her chair and without another word she walked slowly the length of the room, opened the doors and departed. Taro followed her and closed them softly after him. I was left behind forgotten by all.

'She has been bewitched by that man,' said Graelin.

'Perhaps it is a sickness of the spirit,' said Thetlar. 'It has been upon her for some time - I made her a good offer after the pestilence passed, but she wouldn't have me.'

'She is no woman of this village if she can countenance the body of that dark stranger,' said Brathan, a woman in the latter stages of pregnancy, sitting with her beau, a match made by my mother.

'It is plain that we must keep her here until whatever ails her has passed,' said Graelin. 'And that Outlander must go. With his influence gone she may come to her senses. At any rate she can think through her position without distraction. With him gone she must realise it is impossible for her to leave us.'

'We must tell her so,' said another.

'In the morning we must go to her and say ...' a third began.

But Graelin said,

'No, we must go to her now, before his influence gets stronger, before the attachment hardens. I cannot sleep tonight with this hanging over us all.'

I looked around for Graelin's new woman, she sat quietly with her head bowed over a sleeping baby in her lap. She must know it was largely Graelin's feelings for my mother that had brought us to this.

There was a grimness in the scraping of the chairs as they rose to go to her. I hung back. It was full dark now and the path to our cottage was difficult in places. The men took torches to light the way. From any distance the moving sea of torch-fire, murmuring people and shuffling feet was most alarming. This was invasion coming. I followed at the furthest edge of the throng, we moved slowly through the dark, avoiding pot-holes and puddles. Quiet as the crowd had become she must have felt our coming. As we arrived she stood alone in the open doorway.

Graelin led the way, holding his torch high. The raw light brought out the less pleasant qualities of his face - scowling, deepset eyes, frown lines, thin, down-turned lips. Now I saw why my mother had refused him - Graelin was weak and petulant, and now he was in control. He stepped ahead of the many legged beast he had brought to meet her.
'It is late for calling, Graelin,' she greeted him. 'Forgive me if I keep you standing on the step but I think the whole village cannot fit into my house.'

'Maraha, the Meeting has discussed this matter of the Outlander and is agreed. He must go. At once.'

She wasn't surprised. I saw her struggle with anger and with honesty, neither won.

'He will go in the morning if you wish it,' she said.
The crowd murmured. They had not expected her to agree, certainly not at once. Graelin was discomfited. He had looked to make his mark here, but she gave him no opportunity. He shifted his torch to the other hand. My mother's response was too reasonable for him to argue with.

'Very well. I will return at daybreak and escort him.'

My mother couldn't resist a dig.

'How far will you go with him, Graelin? All the way home? Or just as far as the crossing? How far will you walk to keep me with you? How ...?'

I knew why she hesitated and was glad she had not finished those last words. What she had been going to say was 'how will you know he goes back to his people and doesn't return for me?' They could not keep these two apart without locking my mother up. I began to see where my mother's path must lead.

'Despite my newborn child and the weeds in my crops I will walk all day if it will keep you here where you belong,' he said, with an attempt at gallantry. The villagers seemed impressed.

'Very well,' said my mother. 'Until daybreak then.'

Slowly the crowd turned and shuffled back into the night, to the village and their own firesides. The torches drooped now and burned low, the emotion upon which they had fed was spent. I thought 'some of these will regret this in the days to come - not all, but some'. I waited in the shadows until all was quiet, then slipped quietly into the house.

My mother was exhausted, Taro all consideration; he bent over her as she sat at the table, her head in her hands and proffered some posset he had brewed. He cupped her hands around the beaker, murmuring words of endearment and comfort. I began to think I had misjudged him. Carefully he helped her to her feet and guided her to her room. To my surprise he returned almost at once.

'Grehna, can I trouble for that pallet in front of the fire again? It would not be right for me to lie with her tonight. I have given her something which will make her sleep. With luck she will not wake until it is all over.'

I was shocked. It was not our way to use drugs in this convenient fashion. However, the thing was done and only time would bring her out of it. For a second I wondered if the sleeping draught were poison - but there was no sense in that. He wanted her living fertility. Still, I couldn't fathom why he had done such a thing. My mother would be very angry when she awoke - especially if it was to find him gone.

I pulled out the pallet again and laid it in front of the fire for him. It was very late and I was gritty-eyed with tiredness. I banked the fire and was about to go to my own bed. The room was a mess, with the pallet laid down like that and I had to tread delicately over it and round Taro and the table in order to retire. As I passed him he caught at my ankle.

'Grehna, stay and talk with me a while. My spirit is sick with all that has passed tonight. Stay with me, Grehna?'

It was difficult to say no. He seemed so dispirited and his dark eyes in the soft firelight were sorrowful. I said I couldn't imagine what I could say to ease him, but he just shrugged and reached up from my ankle to my hand and pulled me down onto the pallet. For a while we sat like that in silence. In the end he spoke.

'Grehna, you know I must have one of you.'

My blood seemed to slow in my veins. I pulled my hand from his.

'You have my mother.' I said as firmly as I could.

'I think that can not now be the case. They are too strong for her and, at present, too strong for me.'

'I find that hard to believe' I said, but I was uneasy and extremely conscious of his power so close to me.

'Grehna, my pretty, it has to be you. I have left my seed in your mother and I shall return for the child she will bear me - they will not deny me my son. But it seems I may not have your mother - so I must have you.'

As he spoke he slipped one arm around me. I cursed myself for having been so gullible - but I had had no idea of his intentions. He cupped my face in his long dark hands and stared into my eyes. I had never been so close to him before. His smell was musky and sweet, quite unlike the smell of Alin. I was strongly aware of how exotic he was, like a dark glowing jewel. Now I knew why he had drugged my mother, and I was tired and warm and his hands and eyes caressed me oh so softly. I had been so worried and tense for so long, so alone without my mother's confidences. His hands left my face and his arms slipped about me, holding me close to the warmth of him. He murmured into my hair,

'It's you now, Grehna. Its your time. Grehna.'

Then he didn't say any more. I thought for a few moments more that I could break away, that there would be a moment when I could break the spell, but it didn't come, or perhaps I missed it. He nuzzled and bit my neck gently, then pressed his lips on mine and his hands on my body, warm and gentle, seemingly everywhere at once, exciting sensations I had never known before. And I was lost.

At dawn we lay entwined on the pallet in a welter of silk and homespun. Graelin's fist pounding on the door awakened us. I struggled out of sleep with difficulty. As soon as sense returned my first thought was for my mother and the wrong I had done. The pounding fist continued and it was apparent that the first thing to do was throw on some clothes and still it. This I did. I asked Graelin to give us a few moments to prepare and hurried into my mother's room. She slept still, her face aglow and a small smile on her lips. I was thankful for that and put to the back of my mind the duplicity that this would make possible. When I returned Taro was dressed.

'Come, Grehna, it's time for us to go.'

I backed away from him towards the door. There was no doubt in my mind about this, none at all..

'I shall not go with you.'

'But you must!'

He was angry and I a little afraid. I threw open the door and called to Graelin.

'Taro is ready now.'

And went outside to stand with him and the others who had come to see the thing done. However, I was more concerned than I had thought and found myself adding.

'You will not hurt him? You promised to see him on the road, nothing more. You must promise ...' and softly, for his woman was there '... for the love you bear my mother.'

'I will not hurt him.'

Graelin was tired and conciliatory in the early morning, carrying out the end of a task begun in anger of which now only the bile remained. Flawed he may have been, but Graelin was a man of our community and ashamed of what had passed. I too was ashamed, we made a downcast pair there on the step.

I could feel Taro's anger behind me as a physical heat before he issued through the door. Even he, in the early dawning, seemed diminished. I was glad. I was not sure I could have withstood him, glowing and warm as he had been the night before. He passed me and raised his head and I could see his mind was already on the road home and on how he would behave with his unwelcome companion. I felt relief to have him gone. Without another word he set out towards the village and the Tree where I had found him, Graelin followed at his shoulder, and the others straggled after. I stood and watched until the group passed the Tree and began to leave the village. Then I went inside.

It was inevitable. My mother's belly swelled and so did mine. The Tree was a potent force and so, it seemed, was Taro. The village left us rather more alone than hitherto. We had been marked by our dark stranger and they were nervous of us in a way they had never been before as daughters of daughters of power. This mark of a man upon us made our destiny. Although I believe it was not Taro's mark that set us apart, but the strange way that we had embraced the Tree.

We were marking time, my mother and I. It seemed unlikely that our status would change until the babies were born and maybe not then. In our isolation we cleaved together. Despite the passion she had for Taro my mother seemed neither surprised nor distressed to learn of what had passed between him and me on that last night. I had not the courage to tell her until I knew I was pregnant - but I believe she knew. We blossomed as our babies grew within us and both Graelin and Alin began to call again. We discouraged them. We were enough each for the other. We wanted no more complexities. We knew it wasn't over yet.

We were both in our last month and had begun to prepare for the babies with tiny robes and cradles. We were happy and busy. One evening we were sitting in the doorway of the cottage in the last of the balmy evening light sewing for our little ones. My mother gasped slightly and I looked up. She had pricked her finger with the needle. She said, as she sucked the tiny speck of blood to prevent its staining the cloth.

'He's coming back, Grehna.'

My heart leapt; I couldn't tell if it were from joy or apprehension. We sat silently with our thoughts for a long time while the glowing evening turned to night around us. Not Taro, not my mother, could prevent the sun from sleeping. Would it be joy or sorrow that came with him? I had no Sight, I couldn't tell. I asked my mother. Both, she replied.

The next morning when I opened the door to let the fresh day in I noticed a crowd around the Tree. I knew this was for us and fetched my mother. We went and joined the crowd as quickly as two pregnant women can waddle. At the centre of the crowd, at the base of the Tree, leant against it, sat Taro. They had not touched him, but the tension was palpable. There was a gap of some six paces between him and them, they felt he was under the Tree's protection and it confused them. Just as well, or they would have killed him I was sure.

The crowd drew back for us when we arrived and across the clear ground we faced our lover again. He said, without addressing us,

'I have come for my women and children.'

My mother said,
'You are early, as you see, we have not yet been delivered.'

'I will take you as you are.' he said and, with a smile, 'you have never been more beautiful.'

Graelin shouldered forward.

'We had this discussion last time you were here,' he said. 'You shall not take Maraha. Grehna you may have.'

This was satisfactory to neither of us. My mother would not stay behind this time, of that I was certain and I had no desire to go anywhere except with her.

'We must discuss this.' my mother said.

'There is nothing to be said' Graelin tried to assert authority he did not have. The others were with him, but this did not legitimise him. He was still no match for my mother.

Still they would not let my mother decide her future. But they did agree that Taro should be billeted in the Meeting House and that Graelin and a deputation of the wiser heads in the community should meet with him there in the evening to talk over what should be done. I could see no room for manoeuvre, but this plan seemed to satisfy all the interested parties, so I said nothing. We returned home.

As soon as the door had closed my mother started to pack treasures and essentials into a bundle.

'How do you know you will be allowed to go?'

'Allowed? They cannot stop me this time. Taro and I will go.'

'How do you know?'

'I know. Will you come?'

'I will come with you. Not with Taro.'

'It is the same.'

'Not really.'

She shrugged. And it was true it didn't matter why I came, only I knew she was happier that I would come. I didn't look forward to the transition as she did - but there was nothing for either of us here any more.

We passed a tense day. Evening was worse - we wondered what had transpired at the Meeting. At bedtime we extinguished the lamps and sat at the table in the dark. My mother took my hands in hers. We sat that way for a long time. At last she rose.

'It is time.'

I didn't question her. We picked up our bundles and cloaks and quietly opened the door. Nobody was about, not a light showed anywhere. Soft and clumsy as clouds we made our way slowly to the Tree. There was Taro. Not a word was said. We moved away through the north of the village, back the way Taro had come and gone before. When we were well clear of the village we stopped and Taro embraced us both. Still without a word we continued, as if under a spell in the night. We needed to be far away by dawn, pursuit was certain. And we were slow with our unborn to carry.

I wanted to ask what the mood of the Meeting had been. It seemed that Taro and my mother knew without speaking of it. I felt excluded, but unable to break the silence. Soon I needed all my breath for walking. Women big with child stumbling about the countryside in the dark tire easily. By dawn I was exhausted. I looked at them as the light came up. My mother looked little better than I felt, her bloom had gone and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. Taro looked magnificent as the sparkles on his robes caught the early light. He seemed more powerful than before, larger, his eyes glowed to put the growing light to shame. I was frightened.

At last I felt I must speak or burst.

'Can we not hide somewhere for the day? I am tired, neither of us can go on as we are.'

'I don't think hiding will do any good.' said my mother.

'In that case why did we run?' I asked her sharply.

'It was something we had to do.' my mother said, holding Taro's hand. 'But we will rest soon. We have made good time, considering. But it is a long way yet to Taro's land.'

We walked, rested and ate by turns through the day, with no sign of pursuit. As the light faded all my fears returned. I was so tired I could hardly drag myself forward, yet I was bitterly afraid to suggest we stop for the night. I was certain that as we slept Graelin and the others would surround us and take us. At last I voiced my fears to the others.

'Very likely.' was all my mother would say.

We stumbled on - there was nothing else to do. At last it was full dark. Taro obviously knew where we were and where the twisting path among the trees led, but he could not tell us of every tree root and irregularity in it. At last I stumbled over some obstacle I could not see and fell heavily, my ankle badly twisted. I sat in the mud, in the dark, and wept as if my heart would break. It was obvious I couldn't go any further, so we made ourselves as comfortable as we could in a clear space a few feet from the path. We all kissed before we lay down to rest; there was tension in the air, as if a storm was near - but the coming storm had nothing to do with the weather.

In the morning when the light returned we strained our eyes and ears. We did not need to make much effort, they were there, all around us among the trees, waiting for the day so they could see what they were doing. The storm had arrived.

Graelin said 'This is not what was agreed. Maraha must return with us. You have broken faith.' It sounded weak. Their strength now was not in words any more.

'I agreed to nothing,' my mother tried. But their agreement had been with Taro - and here he was. She couldn't protect him now.

'I will not go with you,' my mother said. 'I will die here, rather than return.'

'So be it.' said Graelin.

And without more ado the people of the village whom she had nursed and guided gathered closer with branches and stones in their hands. In a sense it was their final compliment to her. They knew she had not spoken her last words lightly. This was her preference and they would supply it. I looked for Taro, but this wasn't his argument, and I couldn't see him among the crowd and the trees. I lumbered to my feet, gasped as I tried to put weight on my ankle, gritted my teeth and managed it. If they and she couldn't step outside this circle and stop the madness I must try, but rough hands grabbed me and one was clamped over my mouth. I recognised the sweet, musky odour. My mother moved to the very centre of the little clearing lifted her head and raised her arms high. When she lowered them the people were upon her. I watched the makeshift weapons rise and fall, heard the blows and grunts, wept and wept and struggled with my captor.

It was soon over. They dropped their makeshift weapons where they stood, until a wreath of death was laid about my mother's body. Then they stepped back into the trees, their heads lowered. Graelin had the decency to stop beside me and look me in the eyes. I saw regret, and sorrow, but no shame. Even for me it was hard to see how else it could have ended.

The hand was removed from my mouth, and I saw Graelin's eyes flicker over my shoulder.

'Will you return with us? Or will you go with him?'

'I cannot return ...'

My options were narrow, but my resolve was weakening by the minute. Graelin gave me no chance to waver further, but nodded and turned on his heel to follow the others. I felt Taro's presence still behind me and turned to him. I wanted to be angry, but there seemed little point.

We walked over to my mother to see if they had left any life in her, but it was hopeless. There was something, however. I laid my head on her belly and held her bloody hand and prepared to keen for her, when I felt a tiny movement. I lay there without tears and tried to think. Then I asked Taro for his cat's tooth knife. Carefully I slit my mother's clothes, then, even more carefully, holding my breath, I slit her belly with the sharp knife. It took time to cut through and was a grisly business, and I was in terror lest I compounded her violation with more death, but in the end I could see the baby within, lying like the kernel of a nut. As delicately as I could I eased the tiny thing out of my mother's womb, tied the cord as I had seen my mother do when she dealt with birthings, and cut it. Then I cut a piece from my mother's shirt and wiped the child clean of blood as well as I could. I eased my mother's cloak from under her and wrapped her baby in it. She cried, as babies should, but it was a desolate sound in the woods beside her mother's corpse. I cradled my sister and cried with her.

We had no means to dig a grave, nor to cut wood for a pyre, so Taro piled over my mother the rocks they had used to kill her, carrying more from a nearby stream-bed to complete the mound. When all this had been done we had to face each other. I looked at him over my crying sister.

'Girl children make much noise.' He said. 'When my son is born he will be more dignified.'
I smiled, the first time in many hours.

'You will get no sons from us.' I said. 'All our get will be girls. It has been so for generations. If you wanted sons, Taro, you should have said - you will get none here.'

He said nothing. I jibed at him.

'I thought you wanted women for your village?'

'My village wants women - I want women - but women to bear strong sons.'

'You will have many fine, strong daughters.' I said. 'In the end you may find that more valuable.'

'It is not our way.' he said.

'No.' I said. 'But it is ours. Shall we go on now?'

The End