Ancient Things We Hold

Chapter 7

The First Truth

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They were walking through the gardens, taking the same rounds that they had walked a thousand times throughout the summer. The gardens at Carreg Llwyd were pleasant enough, but the beauty of the lands came from the high mountains and the sweeping valleys of crystal waters, so their appearance was instantly rendered bland compared to the surrounding scenery.

Nonetheless, it was respectability and custom that demanded the two betrothed youngsters tracked the trails of the flowers and bushes with a chaperone trailing behind them.

There was a scent of autumn in the air. They had watched the life around them move from green to golden in the matter of the few months that they had been together. The turning of nature was a signal of her departure back to the capital. Her arm was looped within his; she did not want to go.

"Aldwyn, I should like to marry you now," whispered Lady Faeryn so that their chaperone could not hear.

Without intent, he shivered at the thought. She was only ten. Surely she could not know what being married truly meant? "You have not yet reached the stage where you can," he pointed out.

"I could lie. This has been the most relieving summer of my life, to discover that you are so kind. I always thought I should marry a man like the one my sister did- old and distant. We're always taught to make the best of our situation as women, but this is the best situation,"

It was sad that she had been so beaten down by fear of husbands that she thought any one which was not a monster was a true find. If only she knew that she was more than a form of trade...that she shouldn't be grateful just for not being treated like she was nothing, for that was simply a basic standard. She'd been exposed to no other choice, no other hope than to become a wife, either to a brute or to a gentleman. Either way, it would be a trap; one was just a higher prison to bare than the other.

Women had been so silenced that some didn't even believe their own pain. Then again, Lady Faeryn was young and impressionable. Perhaps she wouldn't be so the next time they met.

"You couldn't lie. They'd know,"

"Then let's runaway! Let's elope," she giggled. He smiled, but it was forced. He thought about how Hodaya had suggested running away in the spring and how much he had wanted to. He hadn't seen her in months.

Therefore, he couldn't help but be relieved when the King finally finished his duties in their region and took his leave, along with the rest of his household. Although no one else said it, but they were all secretly pleased. It had been an honour to receive the King, but a tiring one- especially for so long. They were all looking forward to be able to go about the castle without running into a king's guard at every turn.

Before the departure, Lady Faeryn turned to the King and begged, "Do I have to go? Can I not marry him already, your grace?"

"You have not yet blossomed. And there is much both you and Master Aldwyn need to learn before marriage. No, Faeryn, you are to return with us, but you shall marry one day, never fear," he replied rationally.

So she left. Aldwyn hated himself for being so pleased. After all, she was so sweet. However, her keenness for marriage only made him more scared, for both of them. He had an overwhelming feeling that neither of them knew what it wad to be wed, like he was staring into the darkness and desperately searching for hidden light- for he knew it should be there.

That summer had shaken him to his bones. All he could do was hope the next summer would bring the same thing, instead of a wedding.

Despite being so drained from the never ending concerns such as that which plagued his mind, he knew what to do with the little energy he had left. Not caring that his father was waiting, or that his brothers needed him to sort out the household again, he ran to the woods.

Oh, how wonderful it felt to not be followed by a chaperone. No longer was he confined to the tiresome gardens of the castle, with the weight of her arm around his. He was free to run through the wind and feel it pass through him.

On the first day, Hodaya was nowhere to be seen. However, he was utterly contented with sitting by that old rugged tree and feeling the broken bark dig through his clothes that he did not truly mind. The leaves had turned to fire, but they had not yet fallen to the bottom of the trunk. Therefore, he relished in the splendour of sitting beneath the dying leaves.

That tree was, as usual, a great source of comfort to him. For a while, he and Hodaya kept on missing each other, but he would climb the tree nonetheless and will himself to feel some sense of contentment. When she finally joined him again, they held hands for a long time and stared into the world in front of them.

"What is she like?" she asked him.

It was late. They were both a little sad, and very cold, but unwilling to return home just yet. They had been sitting there for hours, not caring that they were growing damp and the air was biting them.

"What I mean to say is that you don't pretend your betrothal is a joyous occasion," she said.

"She is sweet. Everyone thinks I should be overjoyed, but I am not. I don't want her to bear my children. I want that to be done when I decide, with whom I decide. I want her to have that choice as well, instead of being brainwashed into thinking she is fortunate," he blurted out. She didn't know what to say; she was lost of all comfort, of all understanding of what was going to happen. Therefore, she sat in silence until he spoke again, "Hodaya?"

"Yes?"

"Will you hold my hand?" he asked. And so she did. She placed her rough, overworked hand into his soft one and allowed him to take comfort from the warmth her touch provided.

Then, despite previously having hardly a word to say to each other, they spoke endlessly. They spoke of all they had missed over the summer but, as conversations tend to do, they digressed into a twisted maze of topics that reminded each other of why they enjoyed the other's company so dearly.

Although it came like the gradual progression of a river draining into the sea, they felt like the darkness enveloped them in a matter of moments, signalling the time for their departure. "We should never have stayed so late. The woods become dangerous in the dark," Aldwyn warned as they began to climb from the tree.

Once at the bottom, she laughed. "Do you have visions of ghosts and demons and goblins scurrying about the shadows?" she teased.

He smiled at her joking, but then returned to seriousness when he realised her face was truly a blur- it was far too late. Therefore, he said, "I was thinking more of tramps and Jews. Father said the bad sort come out in the night,"

All of a sudden, her hand dropped from his. He looked over at her to see what was wrong. "What is it? Have you seen something?"

For it certainly looked like she had seen something. Her eyes had become blank, swiped over with a look of pure disdain. When he reached out for her again, she recoiled from his touch as though he were infected with a plague and took a step back. For Hodaya, the darkness had slipped away from around her and suddenly became concentrated only on him.

"You are ignorant. You pretend to be so above everyone else, but you are just like the rest of them. You are wrong. It is not you not you that fears the tramps and Jews. It is them that fear you. I hate you," she declared vindictively. She was so sure as she spoke. It came from her like a fire, as though she had been keeping such things in her mind for so long. After a lifetime of sitting on her hands and biting her lip with every mistreatment, she finally allowed all her resentment to cascade at that very moment. Just a moment ago, she had seemed like the sweetest creature in the world, but now she spoke of hate.

He called out her name over and over, but she kept on backing away until she had disappeared fully him. And so he was left feeling utterly perplexed, with no inclination as what he could do or say to earn forgiveness. What had he done? Why did she defend tramps and Jews so ardently?