Chapter 3

The rain broke for the last few days of the trip, the stormy clouds giving way to pale blue skies as my Da punted us up the river. The river ran fast but controlled, a flowing wreath of channelled energy. I dipped my small, child’s hand in the water. It was cold, colder than it should have been; almost icy, like it gets in the middle of winter. Merida must be angry I thought. That was unusual. My Ma said Merida was a god of water and vision, and it was so rare that she would get angry because she could see how it would all be for the best in the end. But the water was icy, there was no denying that. I consider this my first failure.

“When will be out of these infernal trees?” demanded Sourface.

“Infernal? No sir, these trees don’t look to be on fire, they look wet if anything,” responded my Da in his simpleton voice. Sourface took a deep breath and asked again,

“When will we be out of the trees?”

“How does one get out of a…” my Da started. But my Ma cut across him,

“Noon, no later than that.” My Da stood there for a second with his mouth half open, but then nodded ever so slightly to my Ma. The act was over, they’d take Sourface’s anger for what had gone on, but they weren’t going to push him any further. Sourface gave a leering smile,

“Good, I have a bus day ahead of me.” Travis exchanged a worried glance with Rippen, but neither of them said anything.

Slowly the morning advanced and as we progressed towards our destination the sun began to strengthen. Its warm rays gently pressed down on me. Travis smiled at me and moved to pull out his juggling pouches, I grinned in response, but before I could move over Rippen put a restraining hand on his arm. He muttered something in Travis’s ear, his low gravelly voice muffled into obscurity. Travis said nothing in response, but yanked his arm away and proffered me the pouch.

“Go on,” he encouraged, pushing the pouches towards me. I glanced at Rippen who turned away and studiously avoided looking at me. I inwardly shrugged before taking the pouches and carrying on with my practise, I was up to three pouches now, I reckoned I could do four but Travis only had the three sad tattered pouches. I warmed up with one, then added another, then finally I included the last pouch. With all three pouches in the air I fell into a rhythm. The weight of them was comfortable in my hands. They rose and feel, the dull brown catching in the sun, making it seem warmer. Travis smiled, and taking it as a gesture of approval I smiled back. But it wasn’t, his hand snaked forward and yanked a pouch back mid-air. I stumbled and tried to keep the other two in the air, but fumbled and dropped them, I scowled at him annoyed.

“Why’d you do that? That was my longest run,” I demanded.

“Because,” he said, spinning one of the pouches around his finger, “it’s good to be surprised and see whether you can carry on.” He smiled smugly at his own wisdom. It was infuriating, but I could forgive him. They were his pouches after all. “Also, you looked like you were having fun, and I have a spiteful streak.” He tossed the pouch up, off his finger and caught it again with the same hand. His laughing face took all the spite out of the words. He arched an eyebrow enquiringly and tossed the pouch back. I caught it deftly and started again, this time keeping the corner of my eye on Travis. He tried everything possible to distract me. He jolted me with his boot, he splashed water at me when pretending to examine himself in the waters surface. He even pinched my Ma’s ass as she manoeuvred past to let my Da take over the punting again. The surprised squeal almost made me drop the pouches, but not quite. She swatted angrily at him and he took a tirade of abuse for his trouble.

“It’s for his education,” he said. He said it with such a solemn and sincere air, and contriteness that my Da burst out laughing. A large booming laugh it was, the kind that reminds you love may reside in the heart, but joy resides in the belly.

However when Travis jolted the boat to try and put me off my Da’s flinty expression told us it was time to stop. He took rocking the boat very seriously. I tossed the pouches back, thoroughly proud of myself. The sun had nearly reached its peak, slowly warming the air into a pleasant spring day, a welcome break from the rain. Travis tucked the pouches away into his travel sack,

“So tell me,” he asked, “how does a ferryman meet such a beautiful wife in such scary mountains?” My Ma smiled, but said nothing, affectionately touching my Da’s leg as she sat by his feet whist he stood and punted.

“Beautiful?” he asked, “What? This old hag?” My Ma swatted at him gently, but he deftly took a half step out of the way, clasping her hand as it past and gently pulling to his lips. Despite all his tom foolery, one need only look at that kiss to tell that he loved her, with all his heart. One also need only look at her smile to see that she loved him to. Two wonderful people, with a wonderful kind of happiness. The simple kind. I have seen people search for years for that kind of happiness but never find it. But I am glad my parents did. I loved them, absolutely and unconditionally; I can think of no one more deserving.

“Well,” said my Da looking affectionately down at my Ma, “It wasn’t easy. The first time I saw her she was travelling down from a fancy place up north.”

“Hezgorth,” my Ma muttered softly. My Da nodded,

“I had never seen such a pretty thing look so sad. She was inconsolable. So, I did as any good punter would and cracked the wisest and funniest of jokes. But I never cracked her porcelain mask of unhappiness. Now, you must understand I was using my very best of jokes and so took great offence to this. Determined to see the lady laugh I left my Da to the river, and followed her all the way to Por-Lowai.”

“We are definitely remembering this differently. From what I recall I was not unhappy in the slightest. You just wouldn’t leave me alone; you kept pestering me with your jokes. I distinctly remember at one point telling you to leave me alone.”

“And aren’t you glad I didn’t,” countered my Da with a roguish grin. My Ma sighed but let it pass. “Now, where was I? ah yes, I followed her down to Por-Lowai where she was to stay with an aunt and help run an apothecary shop. I swear, you haven’t seen a miserable woman till you’ve seen her aunt. At the time I thought your Ma was unhappy, but Grechna took the biscuit.”

“She was lovely,” interjected my Ma again, “You just didn’t like her because she said your beard made you look like a beggar.” My Da shook his head sadly,

“It was tragic, such a deft blow to shatter my confidence.” He fingered his beard thoughtfully, “It was just growing in as well.” Travis coughed politely drawing my Da’s attention back to the conversation. “Now Por-Lowai is a big place,” continued my Da. “I despaired when I arrived, how was I ever to find my sweetheart amongst all these people. But night and day I searched the streets, always searching. Until one night, perchance, my ear happened to catch the most lovely voice you’ve ever heard. It beckoned to me like a siren’s call. So lovely was it, I forgot all thoughts of your Ma and determined to find the source. I wove through the streets, hunting my prey, until eventually I arrived at an old apothecary shop. And low and betide, there was your mother, singing out the window into the night. With a dazzling smile, and my best joke that I had been saving all these long weeks, I won her heart and spirited her away from the evil crone Grechna.” My Ma patted his leg affectionately,

“That’s a lovely story dear. It must have taken ages to come up with.” My Da grinned wolfishly,

“Weeks,” he said.

“Now,” continued my Ma, “As lovely a story as that was we can’t have Falric and our guests think so highly of you can we?”

“No Ma’am,” said my Da in mock misery.

“From what I recall I was walking home humming to myself one evening just before dusk, when a roguish brute of a man was thrown out of a tavern door and into my way. I stumbled over the beast, scuffing my midsummer gown on the ground. But woe was me, there was no gentle man around to help a lady up. Instead the big brute climbed to his feet and started shouting obscenities at the closed tavern door. Now, I was raised a proper lady, and knew how to keep my cool. However this was not such an occasion. I got to my feet and gave your Da such a tongue lashing it’s a wonder he didn’t turn tail and run back to his precious river.” My Da lent down to me,

“She may play the lady, but she knows some foul words.” He shuddered at the memory.

“Your Da was so drunk he could barely stand up, and he begged sanctuary. Now, boorish oaf he may be, but I wasn’t about to leave him unsheltered for the night.” Travis and Rippen nodded knowingly. Everyone knows that Por-Lowai has a strict no beggars policy, and anyone out and lying in the street after dark gets put in the clank. My Ma continued with her story. “So I dragged this giant buffoon, stumbling under his weight I might add, back to Grechna’s store. This was when she made a comment about bringing beggars home, but she still let him stay the night.”

“Hurt my feelings that comment,” said my Da, “even in my drunken state I remember it, wounded to the core I was. This was never a beggar’s beard,” he declared proudly, stroking his chin.

“Whatever you say dear,” reassured my Ma placatingly. “The next morning he was in no state to leave, nor the day after. But on the third day Grechna demanded he go on his way. And so he did, like an obedient dog with its tale between its legs.” My Da huffed at this but made no comment. “But after that, he kept coming up with excuses to visit. His old man needed a tea for aching joints. Sandy from Hunters Peak had some hides for us, and he offered to deliver them as he happened to be going this way. Why he was returning to Por-Lowai he was never clear about.” My Da shrugged guiltily. “and one thing lead to another, and eventually after much pestering I agreed to ‘be seen walking’.” Travis was grinning now even Rippen looked interested. To ‘be seen walking’ was a term used in Por-Lowai to describe couples. “Eventually after more nagging I agreed to marry this giant, oafish buffoon, and here I am.” She smiled.

“And here you are,” agreed my Da stroking the back of her head affectionately as she sat by his feet whilst he punted us along the river. We were quite for a time. The river drifted lazily beneath us, and the sun warmed out skins. We were all content, even Sourface smiled,

“So you can speak normally,” he said. My parents froze, waiting for the anger, but nothing came. Sourface just gave a lazy smile and returned to looking up the river from it seat at the front. I take this as my second failure. I should have noticed.

Next Chapter: Chapter 4