The River Wife: A Tale of Bard the Bowman

Morning in Lake-Town

"Well? What did she say?" Bain asked.

"Shhh, not so loud!" Sigrid chided, snapping her fingers at him.

"We're outside." Bain rolled his large, brown eyes at his older sister.

"The window is open, troll," Sigrid shook out a damp pinafore of Tilda's. She hooked it onto the laundry line with impatient fingers.

"Quiet. Both of you," their father commanded with a stern glance.

Bain crossed his spindly arms over his chest and leaned against the creaking railing, shooting a poisonous look at Sigrid.

Bard sighed through his nose and scanned the canal below for any unwelcome eyes. It seemed that his chat with Torrad the previous evening had staved them off for the present. Still, he kept his voice low and his back to the street. 

"She was very weak. And she has no memory of what happened before I found her."

Sigrid paused, her fingers wrapped around a pair of stockings. "Like Roald predicted. Do you think that she fell into the magic river in the elf wood?"

"Or she might have hit her head so hard that she has no recollection of the past," Bard conceded. "Either way, she does not know who she is or how she came to be in the river."

"Does she know her name?" Bain asked.

Bard lifted his eyebrows. "She does not know her right name, but asked us to call her Charity."

Bain snorted. "Charity?"

"Why that name?" Sigrid asked.

"I suppose because she recognizes that is what we are giving her during her time of need. Charity." Bard clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, casting a look between his two eldest children. "I must go into town today. There are winter repairs to be made to the barge. Can I trust you both to keep an eye on our guest? Do not let any into the house unless it is one of our friends-"

"We know, Da," Sigrid interrupted, glancing towards the corner where Torrad had lurked for days. "We know what you are saying."

Bard gave his daughter a grim smile then handed Bain his fishing pole where it was propped by the door. "See if you can get us something for supper."

As Bard trotted away down the steps, Sigrid cast wary eyes towards the open window. Bain spied her expression as she gave an apron a vicious shake. 

"What was that look for?"

Sigrid broke away from her thoughts and blinked at her little brother. "I know we are doing the right thing by helping her, but I don't like this. Da has enough problems. I don't want the Master to use this against him."

"How can he? It's innocent enough. She doesn't even know who she is."

"Truly?" Sigrid lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips. "Or is she lying?"

Bain snorted. "When did you become so suspicious?"

"It's not difficult in a town like this."

***

People.

The stranger named Charity awoke. Blinking in the pale winter light, she could hear the bustle of a busy community outside the open window above her. Men argued over the correct wage for bundles of kindling. Women gossiped and gave belly laughs over bawdy jokes. Charity lay in the quiet morning glow, listening. Her mind was a blank piece of parchment. She had to start somewhere.

Town. Lake. 
Lake-town.

Was that the name she'd heard while she wandered the empty recesses of a dreamless sleep? Where the man named Bard had brought her? It made sense, especially as she lifted herself off the sheets and peered out the window. Pushing her mussed hair from her face, she took in her surroundings in the light of day.

Bard's little house was built on a dock. Similar runways webbed over icy surface of water between weather worn buildings, the peaked gables of roofs splintered from countless hard winters. Bells rang out somewhere on the other side of the town, a cheerful and welcome sound.

Charity shivered and closed the window against the brisk wind. Hugging herself, she turned towards the room. A girl stood holding a frayed edge of the bed curtain and studying her with eager curiosity.

"You're awake. And you look much better," she said, breaking the silence between them. "When you first arrived, you were pale as a dead fish."

Despite her confusion, Charity managed a weak smile. "I feel better."

"My name is Tilda." The little girl gave a proud toss of her head with a devilish grin. "Da said that you don't remember your name. Is that true?"

"Yes," she answered, tentatively.

"Do you remember anything?"

"No."

Tilda sniffed. "Well, what are we to call you then?"

The door creaked open. Even though it was a soft sound, Charity jumped at the intrusion. Another girl, older than Tilda, appeared with an empty basket on her hip. Her keen eyes fell on the bed, her tight mouth forcing itself into a smile. 

"Glad to see you are better," the older girl said. "You met my sister Tilda?"

"Yes."

"Good. I am Sigrid. Our brother Bain is out fishing at the moment." Sigrid cut her gaze over to Tilda. "We are to call her Charity."

"Charity?" Tilda gave her a wide eyed glance. "I thought you said that you didn't remember your name?"

"She doesn't," Sigrid answered for her. "It's just what we are to call her. Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Charity replied.

"That means you're getting your strength back." Sigrid's bright tone was as forced as her smile. Fear tinged her shrewd, green eyes. "I'll get you something to eat."

Turning on her heel, she strode with the same surety into her kitchen as her father did on his boat. Tilda gave a breathy laugh and a shrug.

"It's nice to meet you, Charity."