Alis (2 page)

When she went down the stairs and into the kitchen, Hannah looked at her and said in a kindly tone, “Alis, I am going to tend to Master Joseph this morning, for he is near ninety and he does not manage at all now that his wife is gone. But this once, you may remain at home, for you have had a shock I know, and I am sorry for it.”

It was rare that Hannah gave her a choice: such tasks had to be done, and that was all. Alis said quietly, “He is too heavy for you to move on your own. You know the bed linens will need changing, and he must be washed, too. I will come and help you.”

Hannah smiled at her daughter and said gently, “That would be good, Alis, and what I would prefer. Thank you.”

With an effort, Alis smiled back.

 

 

So it went on. She attended prayer meetings, performed her household tasks, and helped her mother in tending the sick and frail. Only now, when she read a portion of the Book, as she was bound to do every day, she avoided the sections where the rules for living were laid down, and returned to the stories of the first days when the Maker created men and women out of the dust, and gave them the world for their dwelling place.

For three months she waited, behaving so dutifully that even her mother was fooled. It was hard, for she did not dare speak openly to anyone. Elzbet, guessing that something terrible had happened, could not understand why Alis would not confide in her, and retreated baffled and hurt. So Alis had to bear her lot alone, but at last her patience was rewarded.

Mistress Leah’s young husband had disappeared, leaving her with three small children, and her sister, Mistress Sarah, had come to Freeborne to visit her. Unlike Leah, with her lustrous, dark hair and vivid coloring, Sarah was fair-haired and pale, with huge blue eyes that seemed always on the verge of spilling tears. As the time approached for her return home, she fell ill, though the Healers could find no bodily cause for her decline. Hannah sent Alis to keep her company, and it seemed to raise her spirits a little.

Sitting wrapped in her shawl in the rocking chair by the hearth, Sarah looked anxiously at Alis out of swimming eyes. “How I wish that I might stay longer. It does me so much good to be here, and you have been a kind companion to me, Alis. But it is of no use to wish, for here is a letter from my husband in which he urges me to return. And it was sent more than two weeks ago.”

“Can you not remain a little longer, and write to tell him that you will do so?” Alis asked.

Sarah clutched her hands together and swallowed convulsively. “Oh, no. I could not do that. He would be . . . he wishes me to come home. He says so quite plainly.”

“Shall you not be glad to be at home again?” Alis asked curiously.

“Oh, yes indeed. It is only that . . . that I was ill before I came and . . . I do not feel quite well again. Of course, it is nothing, I know. But I . . . miss my sister so much, and now I must part with you, too.”

Alis clasped her hands in her lap to conceal their sudden trembling. Very carefully she said, “It is a pity that I cannot accompany you, Mistress Sarah. I should so like to see Two Rivers; I have never visited another Community.”

Sarah stared at her, a faint red mounting in her pale cheeks.

“But, oh, it would be wonderful if you could. Do you think your parents would permit it?”

“They might think that I imposed on you, Mistress Sarah. They would not wish me to do that.”

Watching Sarah ponder this, Alis bit her lip, dreading to see her give up in despair.

“If I were to invite you—”

Too quickly Alis said, “That would be a kindness indeed, Mistress Sarah. You are very good.”

But Sarah’s face had fallen. “No, that will not do, for I must write first to my husband, and there is not time.”

Alis’s dismay must have shown in her face, for Sarah said unhappily, “There, now I have disappointed you. But I do not see how it can be managed. Oh dear, how difficult everything is.”

The tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Unable to comfort Sarah, Alis went home in low spirits. She did not see how she was ever to get away from Freeborne. She could not simply leave—she had never been farther than her uncle’s farm. If she merely set out on the road, she would be pursued and brought back again.

But Leah knew how to manage the matter. She sent for the Healers, and by the next day Sarah was provided with a letter stating that it would be well for Mistress Sarah’s health if she had Alis as her companion on the journey home. Hannah gave her consent and after hearing Alis’s account, said to her, “Do you truly wish to stay awhile with Mistress Sarah, Alis? You will have to curb your tongue and do as you are bid without contention there, for you will find Two Rivers a very different place from Freeborne.”

Alis concealed her eagerness as best she could. “I should like to go, Mother, if you will permit it. It is a chance that may not come again before I am married, and then, most likely, such an absence will not be possible.”

Hannah gave her daughter a searching look and Alis met her gaze steadily. At length her mother said, “Well, you are a good girl and shall have your wish. You will find it a stern place, but that is to be welcomed, for it will make you grateful that your home is here in Freeborne. I will write a letter also.”

And so it was arranged.

T
he 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.