Sephtis

25. I laugh not at your love.

I dare not move, dare not breathe, dare not blink.

The cuts stalks rustle again as Eleutheros sighs and swears to himself, falling backwards to rest against the ground once more. "Fool, fool I am." He hisses to himself, "to many a night I lay awake as I thought of those words...And she sleeps!"

I cannot hold it in any longer, my shoulders shake and I laugh with ecstasy. He grabs me about the waist, and I feel his chin rough between my shoulder and face, his breathe is hot on my neck, his body heavy on mine.

"Shame on you!" he cries, his voice muffled, against my skin, "I offer you my love and you only laugh in scorn."

"I laugh not at your love."

He turns me over so I am facing him, and our heads are close, his eyes are brilliant and amused.

"Then what, pray tell, do you laugh at wolf-woman?" he asks.

"I laughed only because you called yourself a fool," I reply.

"Was I a fool to call myself a fool?"

"A great fool," I laugh.

"Then that second foolishness cancels the first, doesn't that sound right?"

"Sounds wise to me," I say.

"Then tell me I am wise, wolf-woman, before I kiss you like I long too."

I am confused, also longing, but afraid. "It is only wise," I say, "if the others do not see."

He glances over his shoulder, and turns back again, smiling. "They are all asleep in the sun," he says.

He then kisses me. His mouth is warm, and he tastes like apples. From another world a horn sounds. It is time to work again. He stands, a shadow against the sun, offering me his hand. Yonder, watching us, is Merikh, and Sehara, the girl in the green dress.

Four days we work in the sunlight. Often I look up at the place where the wolves played, chasing the field-mice. I do not see them again, but the feeling of their presence is always near. I do see Eleutheros, working farther down the field, his back bent, his sickle swinging in his hand. We sit together every rest time, sharing a meal and laughing at the little things, and he cares not when the others send us sidelong looks, and whisper about us. They would not dare, if Droug was here. But I care not, for I am all joy.

Even in the nights, when I am cooking broth for the king and reheat stew for myself, my happiness is still with me. I hear voices from the other houses, and think of Eleutheros eating his meals by the hearth, his arms and face further reddened by the fires glow, and I am warm inside. I long for the time when the harvest is safely stored, for then we will celebrate together, all of us here in the king's house. Our king wishes it, even though he is gravely ill. Perhaps  Eleutheros will dance with me. But for now, I am content to work and rest with him in the sun.

At the end of the fourth day there is a great roar as the last sheath is tied. The harvest is cut. We all go mad, running about and chasing each other, the men catching the women about the waist and kissing them. Always before I have stood apart, for no one chased me. But this evening, someone does. He gathers me close and kisses me long and hard, and no longer am I aware of the people around us, or the children yelling and screaming or the sound of the wind whistling through the cut stalks. The sun is setting, bleeding harvest colors across the sky as we walk home, his arm around my waist.

"There are two more days of work, gathering in the wheat and storing it. What will you do when that is done?" he asks me.

My step falters, and his arm tightens around me. "Will you come back to my village and stand beside me in a wedding feast?"

I cannot speak, for there are people all around us, and my body is to frozen to sign. I can hardly breathe. We stop walking, and he takes my face in his hands. Others walk past us in the growing gloom, laughing and talking.

"Will you?" he asks again. I turn my face aside, hiding it against his chest, and trying to figure out my thoughts. He waits, running his fingers through my short hair.

After a long time he speaks: "You will not be an outcast in my village Sephtis, my father had three cursed ones for slaves, whom he honored and set free, but they stayed, because of his kindness to them. There can be a new start for you there, where you are worthy and guiltless. My people know nothing of-"

"I am already guiltless!" I sign with a gasping breath, bursting free from his hold, and the warmth of his body. I turn and run.