Dayn armallah

17. Redemption

By the time a cold drizzle fell from ashen sky and the ruins of the house finally stopped smoking, the first shock began to abate. Everyone in the village was dizzy with relief when it fully dawned on us that the nearby houses had indeed been saved, and that by some miracle nobody except the inhabitants of the one house had been killed or even too badly hurt. The old King, and the priestess who'd dragged him to the doorway, were the most severely injured ones, but most others had only got minor scratches that began to heal as soon as they were cleaned and bandaged properly.

Golden Deer's neck, shoulders and back were full of angry little burns from the cinders that had rained all over him, but his ingenious idea to drench himself with water had probably saved him from much worse, as it had prevented his hair from catching fire. I tended to his back as best I could, and one of the older women even brought me a jar of salve that I could spread over the burns. His back had to hurt, but he took it stoically and just waved me aside when I asked if he wanted me to get something to numb his senses to the pain.

Besides, he had other worries to occupy his mind: soon after we'd got back to our cabin, Merilion began to feel increasingly ill. He was so nauseous and disoriented that we put him to bed, but he insisted on sitting up, complained of a tearing headache and clearly had trouble breathing. After a while we simply had to bring the prince outside despite the cold weather, prop him against the wall of the cabin and wrap him in all blankets and skins we could find to keep him warm enough.

I hurt inside to look at my Lord who was sitting there in Golden Deer's arms, struggling to get enough air into his lungs. I was sure it was because of all the smoke he'd inhaled, there was no other explanation for his condition, and my guess was confirmed when I went to inquire how the other priestess and the King were doing. Both showed the same alarming symptoms, and the women were constantly watching over them to make sure they wouldn't expire in their sleep. It had to be the smoke, the women said; you could still smell it in their breath.

When I was about to return once more to my masters, I spotted another priestess, disheveled and desolate, sitting by a cooking fire. Out of a whim I walked to her and asked if she could tell me what had happened. She looked at me with the eyes of a wounded deer and began to cry before she'd got further than a few words in her story.

The manic atmosphere inside the cabin had finally made another of the young priestesses crack. She'd declared in a loud voice that she wasn't going to die there, didn't want to starve with the others; she was going to go out and seek help from the villagers. Others had tried to prevent her, and in the ensuing scuffle she'd lost her balance and fallen into the fire burning in the middle of the house. Her flowing, loose clothes had instantly been aflame, and that was when the woman squatting next to me had managed to scramble out of the building.

She wasn't sure if the others had tried to help the victim or what, her only thought had been to get out before it was too late. And, like everyone else, she'd been horrified to see how quickly the fire had roared into full force, claiming the house and most everyone inside it. It had to be all the thin cloth and spun thread inside, all the looms with their half-finished fabrics, she sobbed. Everything just burned, burned...

All I could do was to try and assure her that there was nothing more she could possibly have done; that nothing could've stopped the fire once it got hold. Finally I just gave her a feeble pat on the shoulder and got up, infinitely sad and disheartened by the insanity that had claimed so many lives. So this was why the priestesses had escaped from the furnace that was Dayn Armallah – to be burned alive here in this village? I cursed aloud, unsure of what I was cursing. The Goddess, or blind fate that had pushed all gods aside and was ruling us now, and couldn't help wondering if my Lord was actually right in his proclaimed belief that all we could rely upon now was ourselves. Were there any gods left to look after us?

The next few days were busy but anxious. The saddest and most unpleasant task facing us was to get rid of the remains of the burned house and to bury what was left of the bodies. It made me sick to even think of what it had to be like, and indeed I saw many worn, grim faces as the men who'd been doggedly sorting through the rubble and ashes paused their work for the night and trudged to the river to rinse off the worst grime.

Alaish was more deeply affected by the incident than he wanted to admit, and focused all his attention on taking care of his father. He needed something tangible to do and in fact made both my and Golden Deer's task a lot easier, constantly staying by the prince's side and alerting us immediately if the man needed something the boy couldn't handle himself. For a couple of days there was hardly any change in Merilion's condition, but just as I was about to get truly desperate, he took a turn for the better. He was again able to lie down without immediate shortness of breath, slept more peacefully, and even began to get impatient with his own feebleness. That, more than anything else, convinced us all that he was going to recover for real, and in a few more days he was indeed on his feet once more.

However, to my great surprise of the first things he did was to go and see the King, and I decided to follow him. Both the old man and the injured priestess had been drifting in and out of consciousness, not showing clear signs of true recovery no matter how diligently they were looked after.

For a long while Merilion just squatted beside his father, face as if carved in stone. He didn't touch the man, nor did he say a word, merely listened to the incoherent mumbling without an outward reaction, and quietly I crept away. I knew this was something no one could support him with.

At last he returned to our house, not looking at the three of us, and went in. Golden Deer sent a puzzled glance after him, then looked at me.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," I replied, resisting the urge to snarl when sudden jealousy stabbed through me. I wanted to snap at him, ask why on earth he should ask me, didn't he know the prince better than me, but clenched my teeth and kept silent. How many times would I need to remind myself that it was not Golden Deer's fault if Merilion loved him better than me? Yet I couldn't help adding: "Why don't you go and ask him?"

Golden Deer was about to get up, but right then Merilion emerged from the door and came to sit on the log bench. He was holding something glittering in his hand.

"What's the book for, father?" Alaish inquired moving closer. Merilion glanced at his son, his expression an odd mixture of angry resentment and resignation.

"For the funeral." He sounded strangled. "I talked to the men. They've now collected all the bones from the ruins, and we must give them a proper burial."

He fingered the book case in his hand, eyebrows knotting. "I thought that the Prayer of the Spring would be right for them, don't you agree, Alaish?"

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and bit hard on it to keep the tears at bay, and concentrated on watching the slow bubbling of the broth I was stirring in the pot. So he was not only going to preside over the funeral but also chant a prayer to the Goddess in the honor of the women who had denounced him to the last? I could hardly imagine what it took to even contemplate something like that. Would he really do that?

Alaish nodded quietly and pressed closer. "Yes, father, I think they would like it."

"But how do you think they'd feel if they knew I'm the one saying it?" Merilion's arm snaked to hug the boy's shoulders. His voice was trembling.

"They'd love it, father," Alaish said with conviction. "I'm sure they would."

The next day dawned, yet another crisp and bright morning, and towards noon the village gathered quietly on a small clearing. In the middle of it stood forlornly a large basket, woven of willows and rushes; it contained the charred remains of the priestesses, wrapped in cloth and placed there for burial. The two priestesses who had escaped in time were standing amid the people, eyes flickering nervously around and looking subdued and awkward in their new clothes. Gone were the thin, impractical robes, they’d been replaced by thicker skirts and cloaks in which the young women didn’t yet seem to be quite at home, even though they now fit in far better with their surroundings.

I was there, too, standing side by side with Golden Deer. Merilion, somber and quiet, had told us to come here already and also bring Alaish with us, and the boy had followed without protest. The Forester was puzzled, but I told him that the prince wanted to prepare in peace for the coming ceremony, and that satisfied his curiosity enough. I was still making bets with myself as to what Merilion would actually do, then noticed how one of the priestesses glanced anxiously aside and her eyes went round. I turned to look as well and my jaw dropped.

Merilion was walking slowly towards us, hair loose but held in check by a few strands pulled from his temples into a thin braid in the back. Despite the cool weather he only wore a short-sleeved jacket over his trousers, and everybody’s gaze was immediately drawn to his arms. The left one was bare but the dreadful scar on the right forearm was hidden for once, covered by an enormous golden snake bracelet.

The prince stopped and stood still for a while by the large basket, then raised his right arm so that the rays of the sun reflected from the eyes of the snake. Its large, arrow-shaped head seemed to smirk at us from the back of his wrist, and I saw all around me hands rising to make the sign of the Goddess.

"Holy Mother, we beseech Thee to take these Thine faithful worshippers into Thy grace," he began, voice strong and confident. As if he'd walked straight from a Holy Eve. As if the years in between had been just a dream. Here he was, in the middle of our little village, miles away from the forsaken ruins of the Temple, wearing wool and leather instead of those priestly white folds of linen, and I nearly wept as I watched him. I didn't know how he'd been able to push aside the doubts and nightmares that sat so heavily on his shoulders, but I knew he'd done it for the sake of those who had hated him.

The ceremony wasn't long, but by the time he finished chanting the Prayer of the Spring and rolled the book scroll back into its case, everyone was at least swallowing hard if not outright crying. Finally the prince turned around and nodded to the men who approached him, cautiously lifted the basket up on a wooden bier and began their show trek to the small burial site, somewhat further away. The crowd began to move and trickle back to their tasks, only the two former priestesses chose to follow the men and help in piling stones on the fresh grave.

Merilion stood still for a moment, shoulders hunched, then turned and returned to our cabin without a look at the three of us. Golden Deer frowned but I patted his arm.

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it," I told the tall man. "It was not easy for him. Let's go and make something hot to drink. It's too late for you to go hunting any more today."

However, when we reached the cabin, we found Merilion sitting by the fire. He was breathing hard and muttering curses, looking ready to explode. I ran to him. "What's wrong, my Lord?"

"I can't get it off," he said through clenched teeth. "It's not coming off!"

The bracelet...

I swore under my breath as I touched it cautiously and tried to pry the locking mechanism open. It should've been possible to turn the head aside so that he could slip his hand through the narrower section that was to sit around the wrist, but it was indeed stuck and wouldn't turn anywhere. I could understand the prince's near-panic; that golden snake was one of the holy objects of the Goddess, to be borne by the First Prince in any ceremony in Her honor. It was the sign of his high birth, fire had branded its image on his forearm to remind him of his status to the end of his days, and now that he'd chosen to wear it this once more, it wouldn't let go.

My fingers shook as I clawed on the lock, tried to find where to press and which way to twist, to no avail. Alaish tried as well, equally in vain, and at last Merilion was nearly frantic enough to break his own arm to just get rid of it when something gave under my fingernail and the head of the snake moved at last.

I slid the bracelet off, surprised at its weight, and Merilion rubbed his forearm with the other hand, nearly sobbing in relief. Alaish took the snake in both hands and scowled at it, holding it like a living thing and looking into its glittering emerald eyes.

"Put it away," Merilion said hoarsely. "I don't want to see it ever again."
Golden Deer put his long arms around him and hugged tight. "Come," he said. "Take other clothes, we go see traps now."

The prince gave a shaky nod and pushed himself up, and I squatted by the fire with a sigh. Of course Golden Deer would understand the situation in an instant. What we all needed now was a quick return to normalcy, which for Merilion meant the everyday things, such as checking the traps they'd set around the village. Not rest, not time to brood, but action. After a while the two men, once more in their hunting gear, walked with a purposeful step towards the bushes between which their path slipped between the trees, and vanished from sight.

When they returned, several hours later when light was already waning, I noticed instantly that they hadn't been merely following the path and inspecting the traps. All right, they were carrying some hares and grouse with them, but the flush on Merilion's face and the gleam of Golden Deer's hooded eyes also told of other, much more intimate moments. I found myself grabbing the ladle so tight that my fingers hurt, and when they settled on the log bench next to me, I was hard put to hand over the bowls without hurtling them to the fire.

I envied them, envied so much that my head hurt and the heart felt like lead in my chest. I envied their closeness, the fact that Golden Deer invariably seemed to understand Merilion and grant him what he needed. They didn't need much of a common language, looks and touches were language enough between them.

Was this how it was going to be? Would I be forever just sitting there, next to them, watching and knowing and longing for something I could never have, fearing that they'd notice, and what would happen if they some day did notice after all? Would they shove me away from them or just shrug and ignore me?

Which would in fact be worse?

The thoughts were still swirling around in my head as I finally curled up on my accustomed place beside Alaish, and they continued to plague me even though I pulled the blanket up to my ears and tried to will them away by focusing on the quiet rustling of the trees outside. They didn't want to let go of me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, grateful for the darkness that hid the angry tears that forced their way out between the lids.