Sephtis

17. Why did I return?

As I pull my canoe onto the bank and walk between the bathing tubs, the children fall silent. The women stand up straight and look at me, they say nothing and their eyes are cold, their lips severe. I think of the light in Kavah's eyes, and wish I had not come back.

In Droug's house, it is quiet as death. He is alone here in the dimness, and no one has changed the damp straw beneath his furs. He sleeps, laying on his back, his arms clenched by his sides. His face is oily, and wet from sweat; his raven hair limp, and clinging to his head. Without a sound, I sit beside him. Outside, the children laugh and play again, and I hear the talk of the women as they pour hot water into the bathing-tubs. I hear the words slave-girl and wolf-woman, spoken low, with deep hate.

Droug opens his eyes and looks at me. He has aged fifty seasons in these past handful of nights, and his hair is streaked with grey and silver. He says nothing.

"My king, is there anything I can do for you?" I ask, signing near his face so he can see what I ask.

"Give me my sword." He demands.

I move back from him a little way, and I can hardly breath for terror.

His lips pull back on his yellow teeth, and I know not if it is a grimace or smile. "Not for you, for me," he says. "Bury it in my heart Sephtis. I cannot live on like this."

"I cannot do that my king."

"Neither will that whining wife I have got myself. Neither will my useless, adopted son. Nor will Taaroko, or that fucken healer with his blades and saws." He pauses, gasping for breath before speaking again, "Oh Sephtis, by the gods. What will become of me?"

I lower my head, and look at the tattered edges of my skirt, where the cubs have torn it. I have no answer for him.

"Are you not deserting me, like everyone else?" He suddenly demands, furious.

"I will stay, if that is what you wish my king." I sign.

"What I wish! Oh Sephtis! What I wish is that I could roll back four hundred seasons, to the harvest-time when I first saw her, all fair and slender in the golden field. Is our wheat ripe yet"

"Yes my king, it will soon be ready for harvest." I get up, wet a cloth in a pitcher of cool water, and wipe his brow for him.

"Wipe all my face." He commands.

I wipe his face and his hair, and take his hands one at a time and wipe those also. His skin is white, his nails bloodless like bone. I have never touched his hands before; the feeling is strange to me.

He sighs deeply. "You are more true to me than any of them," he says, very low.

"They blame me for your trouble."

"I know what is true, I knew deep in my heart the words Morag told me that night were false. I know she lied. I have told Horiki and the priest, but they tell me my mind wanders. Beware, girl. The village holds you not in their favor."

"It never did my king."

"Well it holds you less in favor now. Look to the new comer Eleutheros; if he desires you, marry him, it will release you from this village and take you to his. His father has three cursed-ones for slaves, and treats them well I hear. He says they are of more worth to him than twenty horses. You will not be an outsider there."

"I have other friends I can return to my king," I sign, hesitantly.

He opens one eye and looks at me sideways, like Kavah, "the wolves, Sephtis? You would risk running with them again?"

"I am far better acquainted with them then you know my king."

The great door is flung open and Horiki enters. I move aside, and he goes to Droug and pulls back the furs.

"Who neglects this man?" The healer roars, "where is his wife?"

I rush outside to look for Morag. I find her with the other women, scrubbing the backs of the warriors as they sit in the tubs. She jests with them and blushes at the things they say in return. She looks furious when I disturb her happy work. But when Horiki sees her, he shouts words so full of fury she hangs her head.

I now hide behind the shelter that keeps our animals safe, for I want to be alone to think. But, though they are hidden from me by the wooden wall about our village, I hear the young people still laughing in the fields by the wheat, and thoughts of Eleutheros fight with my thoughts of the wolves.

My new found serenity is blown away by Droug's words about the pledge-son. Only a short time past, all I yearned for was peace in the wolves' company. Now all I think about is Eleutheros' mouth and throat and hands, and a madness takes hold of me.