Phoebe -- A Description (public view)

RUNAWAY

I've only ever cried once in my life. Not when I was a child and broke my leg falling from a tree. Not when I was only fifteen and my husband beat me until I lost our child. Not even when they told me Trystan was born dead.

I've only ever cried once. And that was the morning I woke up to find Jordan gone. It took a few minutes for it really to sink in, and when it did, I could feel a tear sliding down my cheek, over my chin to finally fall onto the pillow. It sat there, a tiny pool of salt water, diamond clear. It looked almost like I had cried the crystal tears of the Tree of Life. Which is when I decided where I had to go.

It didn't take me long to pack. Everything in the room had belonged to Jordan, save my own small pack with a change of ratty clothes, and the arm bands he had given me. That done, I hurried out back to the stables, planning to borrow one of his horses to ride out on.

I was stopped before I had quite reached the bottom of the stairs by one of Jordan's servants. In the dim light of early morning, he looked angry, almost demonic. "To where do you go?" he demanded harshly.

With my pack over my shoulder, the answer was obvious. "I am leaving."

He shook his head sharply, hands on my shoulders forcing me down the hallway. "You will stay here until it is determined what you have done with our laird!" He pushed me roughly into one of the servant's quarters, by the kitchen, and locked the door behind me.

I was in shock. What I had done with the laird? I had done nothing with him, save sleep with him. He was gone when I awoke! At first, I was so surprised, I simply sat there, thoughts spinning through my mind, unable to fully comprehend what I might be accused of. Then, as it began to dawn on me, I started to pace rapidly around the room, looking for a way out. Unfortunately, the room appeared to have been designed for recalcitrant servants. There was no escape.

In the kitchen, I could smell warm bread in the morning, then chicken broth as the hours turned towards noon. The smells had faded, but supper's had not yet begun, when they came to get me.

I was in a daze, hungry, confused, and upset as they questioned me. Around and around the conversation went, until I finally sank to my knees, screaming, "I did not destroy a god!" For that was what they accused me of. How could I not have seen it? But then, we had only a short day together in the village. No one had told me they thought him a god. And now that he was gone, they thought I had driven him away. There was more, much more, but I honestly cannot remember it. It is not time that has driven it from my memory. Rather, I believe that I do not wish to know what it was. I have never known, not since I rode away from that village.

They questioned me, argued with me, beating me down with words for hours and hours. The sun had set and many were in bed by the time they returned me to that room, a crust of bread and a cup of cold broth for my meal. As they left, I could not sleep. I had hardly slept either of the two nights before with Jordan, and now, without him, I also could not sleep. I must admit, I found the reason for the first two nights much more pleasurable.

I spent the next hour carefully going over every aspect of my prison. And finally, finally, I managed to find a way to slip out. If I am accused of a crime I committed that is a true crime, then I will stand punishment as is my due. But if I have committed no crime, or am told that something is a crime that is not, I see no reason to remain. And so I did not.

It was thankfully still dark, the town sleeping, and there was no guard where I went. The stable boy slept, snoring softly in the hay, as I saddled a horse, throwing my pack upon it, and left. I rode quickly through the town, heading down the road to Devane, where the Tree of Life grows. It was a long trip, several days, and it gave me a lot of time to think. And of course, all my thoughts were of Jordan.

On the second day, I stopped in a village, as plagued by sickness as the one I had left. As I curled my body into a booth in the back of the cafe, hands warmed by mug of broth I held, I remembered meeting Jordan in much the same state, only a few short days before.

We had slightly more than a day together. We spent that first night simply enjoying each other. Little sleep was involved. When dawn came, we took a ride about his lands. His people were slowly coming out of their homes, going to work in the fields. It was obvious he cared about them, stopping to visit, checking on those who were ill with the plague. He was nothing like my husband had been. Nor was he like my own parents. They had cared for their people, yes, but they still had not made so much effort as I saw Jordan make for his own people. When one woman cried that she did not have the funds to give her husband and daughter proper burial, he folded a coin into her hand, "Take it, and bury your family where they may nourish the Tree."

"Thank you m'laird!" She fell to her knees, her remaining daughter peering at us curiously, while her son had a distinctly rebellious expression on his face since we had made his mother cry. Then she gathered her children in close and all was fine. Smiling, Jordan nodded for us to move on.

The common graves are possibly the greatest tragedy during any plague. The Tree of Life guarantees rebirth to all those who are returned to the land to nourish it properly. In a common grave, the shades are confused by all the other shades, and cannot find their way into the land. And so, in a time of plague, when those without money are simply thrown into a single hole, for a grave costs dearly when so many are dying. To the poor, they must face that their loved ones have truly died the final death. Yet Jordan, who is not even from our world, saved this man and his child to allow them their rebirth.

The day spent in the village was long, as we worked to give his people some small measure of hope. And they loved him for it, that was obvious. I realized was no wonder they thought him a god. And then, as the sun began to fall behind the horizon, we returned to his home for our supper.

I went immediately to my room to wash, feeling near as dirty as I had the day before. I had just climbed out of the cooling water in my tub when my door opened a crack, and I heard Jordan's voice say softly, "Phoebe?"

I had no timidity left where he was concerned. "Yes?" He opened the door, catching sight of me. I smiled, a towel draped over my shoulders. He grinned back, quickly sliding into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"You should warn a man, m'lady," he cautioned me.

My smile grew wider. "Do you not like surprises? After all, you surprised me at my door. I thought it only fair to return the favor."

His arms around me were answer enough, and time passed quickly as we enjoyed each other's company. Then he reminded me that the time for supper had come, and we should eat before it grows cold."

I agreed, and slid off the bed, reaching for a red silk shirt he had brought me earlier. That day I had worn that with a black split riding skirt, trimmed in silver with a silver belt. It was quite comfortable, except for the sleeves, which were wide and long, and seemed far too often to fall down around my wrists and tangle in the reins. I dressed with my back to him, turning only when I heard his soft voice call my name. "Yes?"

His eyes were smiling as he held out something to me. It was a package wrapped in plain paper that I dimly remembered him dropping by the bed when I tempted him over to me. I took the package cautiously, not quite certain if I should accept it. He merely waited patiently, expectantly, that smile on his face. Finally I gave into temptation and tore into the wrapping with all the enthusiasm of a child. The paper fell away, dropping into my lap a pair of silver wrist bands, trimmed with red. My eyes opened wide, and I couldn't control the grin of pure pleasure. The toolwork on them was marvelously intricate, and the colors matched those which I preferred to wear. Shyly, I lifted my eyes to his.

He reached out and caught my sleeve with one hand. "You seemed to have a problem with these," he joked. I laughed my agreement. Then his eyes grew serious as he fastened first one band about my left wrist, then the other about my right. "Phoebe, I want you to swear to wear these always. They will protect you if I cannot."

I looked at them, fitting perfectly against my wrists as if they belonged. "I swear." And thankfully, they did not think to strip me of my belongings when they imprisoned me. I doubted they thought I could leave, and they seemed to discount my strength for all that they thought I had destroyed their god.

Supper and the evening passed much as the other had, until I woke up just before dawn to find Jordan gone.

Sighing at my memories, I stretched and went to retrieve my horse from the hitching post outside the cafe. I should have been more aware, should have thought ahead. Of course, the horse was gone, probably stolen by the keeper of the cafe to make broth from some future afternoon. Still, I had my pack, and most importantly, the wrist bands, so I began to walk.

The journey to Devane was filled with more such plague villages, and many many more memories. But as I drew closer to the Tree of Life, the people grew more healthy around me. I could see the Tree's nourishing reaching into the land and its people, caring for them and keeping them safe. The villagers were more friendly, the food plentiful and the land well worked. Still, I didn't pause, and went directly to the main Temple of the Tree in Devane.

Priests and Priestesses of the Tree are always available for counsel, and I sought one out to talk to. For more than an hour I spoke, telling him of Jordan, and of the accusations. In the end, I raised my eyes to his and asked, "I must ask for the sanctuary of the Tree."

"Do you wish to become an initiate?" His voice was kind, and at that moment it was almost my undoing.

"Yes." I think I surprised myself when I said it. I needed a place to stay, to recover from my experience. And I needed some sort of faith to hold on to. And the Tree could care for me. He waited, to see if I changed my mind in the sudden silence, so I said more strongly. "Yes. I will stay and learn the ways of the Tree."

Chapter Four, Bachman & Balder

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