Chapter 22: Sceala

Distraught by Erinu's ordeal, the four travel north and rest in Porto Cerro. When Erinu's bleeding baffles Berin, they meet Sceala, a local woman.

Sceala

 “Let us depart from here,” Glavino suggested. The four travelled for the remainder of the night through the forest to the local lake, named after the maritime speedster, Hawr. A few moments’ sleep was caught under a bush, with Erinu snuggled safely next to her father.

“What happened to you?” asked Rini, his teeth clenched so hard his entire face turned beet red.

“Now is not the time to ask,” said Berin.

“When?”

“When she is ready.”

Early in the morning, before the earth was painted with vibrant light, they stole a flimsy dugout and rowed carefully across to the other side. It was fortunate they did, for evil lurked behind.

“Wonder what lies ahead,” whispered Glavino as they hid the dugout.

“I am more frightened of what disaster is behind us.”

“How do you mean?”

“Do not tell the children this. The Bacana are in Kedemah.”

“No!”

“Indeed.”

“How?”

“They apparently made it through the Midran Passage. No one can stop them now.”

“That must mean, all the sailsmen who survived the ferrian, are probably now…”

“What?”

“Dead.”

“Perhaps they are captives.”

“What about Tikvah? Surely they would string him up?”

Berin ignored the reference to the Keturah man.

“Perhaps they are being sent away to Vergara.”

“Vergara?” Glavino cocked his head.

“Yes, apparently the slaves are being sent to Vergara to farm crops for the army.”

“Do you think they are safe?”

“I believe so. I have to believe so, otherwise it is too…what is the word? Haunting? Yes, haunting to think of them as dead.”

“Are the Bacana army only behind us?”

“I suspect so. No one in Oeiras mentioned the Bacana were northward.”

“Perhaps it is easier to give up.”

“Glavino, how can you say that? We have both my children returned to us! We cannot be captured by the Bacana now!”

“I am sorry. I only said it out loud. I meant nothing by it. We shall move on forward.”

“Come, children,” called Berin.

The following four veros were spent crossing the farmland of Hawr into the land of Presa. In no time they reached the coastal town of Porto Cerro.

“Is this not where Grasio’s ancestors are from?” asked Glavino.

“Indeed.”

“Who is Grasio?” asked Rini.

Berin and Glavino informed the children of their guide, of his stories and of his heart.

“I wish we could meet him,” said Erinu.

“Me too.”

“When all this is over, we will meet him again.”

“Yes, when the Bacana army are beaten and…”

Berin gave Glavino a kick in the leg.

“Ouch! What was that for?’ Realisation came across his face. ‘Oh, sorry.”

“Where are the Bacana army now, Papa?” asked Rini.

“The Kedemah are fighting their ships,” lied Berin.

“Good. When they are beaten and we have Mama, we will go visit Grasio and feast on all the roduma we can eat with him!”

“Where is Mama?” asked Erinu feebly.

 “She is somewhere north, over the Sonid Sea.”

“I cannot wait to see her,’ said Erinu. ‘I want to hold her.”

“Me too,” said Berin.

Glavino gulped loudly. Rini laughed.

“You want to embrace Mama as well, Glavino?”

“Sure…”

“I miss her smile.”

“I miss her cooking.”

“Yes, Papa, you look so lean now.”

“Are you saying I was pudgy?”

“No.”

“Papa is not lean, Erinu. Have you seen his muscles?”

Erinu pushed back the sleeve of her father’s shirt.

“Gosh, you have muscle. Maybe you have lost your pudginess around the stomach.”

“Hey!”

“I am only joking…” Erinu suddenly stood up and twisted her body.

“What is it, Erinu?”

“Papa, my, my…between my legs hurt.”

“Oh Erinu, I am so sorry.”

Berin burst into tears.

“Papa! What is the matter?”

“You are hurt. I wish I could change that.”

“You already have.”

“Let us see what we can do about your pain.”

Glavino looked to Berin. His eyes said everything they needed.

“I will teach Rini the game of passin,” he stammered. Berin nodded as he rose with Erinu’s hand clasping his. They strode into the marketplace, passing a woman clothed in a dress detailing the moon and the stars.

“Rini would like that,” said Erinu.

The woman clasped Erinu by the shoulders.

“She meant nothing by her comment!” stammered Berin.

The woman half-ignored Berin’s remark.

“Your daughter looks in pain.”

“How did you know?”

“By the way she is walking. Perhaps I can help?”

“How?”

“I am a healer. You need a woman to look at it.”

“What will you do?”

“If it is what I think it is, I have a remedy for the pain.”

“Oh, Papa, please, anything to stop the pain.” Erinu’s nose and forehead scrunched like Rallinn papyrus.

Berin glanced at the woman. Her face was not harsh, not like the innkeeper’s face, or Harnikov’s either.

Do I trust her?

“Fine. What is your name?”

“Sceala.”

Sceala led them to her hut, her dress flapping in the slight breeze. They entered her hut, where the shelving possessed many jars full of colourful liquids and peculiar items. Sceala brought in two blankets. She handed one to Berin, who placed it under Erinu while the Sceala threw the other across her upper body.

“Lie down and let me have a look.”

Erinu looked at Berin.

“It is fine. I trust her.” Berin’s courage was returning to him. Where it went, he knew not.

“I need to see what is wrong so I can provide the correct remedy.”

“Yes, please. Papa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Hold my hand.”

Berin clasped his hands around her adunai.

“Talk about something. How did this happen?”

Berin explained Erinu’s ordeal to Sceala.

“Ah,’ said Sceala as she inspected Erinu’s private area. ‘Tell me, Erinu, when did this begin?”

“It has been since, since I was imprisoned.”

“In Oeiras?”

“If that is the name of the town, then yes.”

“It is the name,” butted Berin.

“Right.’ Sceala paused, glancing at Berin. ‘Where were you before this?” Her face returned to Erinu.

 “I am sorry, I do not remember all the details.”

“That is fine. Tell us what you remember.”

Erinu began her tale.

 “I was loaded onto a cart in Akola.”

“You were sold as a slave in Akola?”

“Yes.”

“Where was your father?”

“I was there, watching.”

“Were you, Papa? Why did you not…”

“I could do nothing to save you.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Sceala interjected the silence.

“Tell us what happened, Erinu,” she said, calmly.

“The cart took me down to the shoreline. There was a ship, ready to sail. We got on board and sailed away from Akola. The men were, well, rugged and rough. They enjoyed having me on board. I shuddered any time they came close to me. What they would do to me, I knew not. Then one night, one man came below the deck. A knife was in his hand. He whispered to me in a language I know not. I knew, though, what he wanted. I have talked about it with Mama. I talked about it with my friends back in Vergara. He…he cut off my clothes and…”

Berin left the hut. This was more than he could bear. The contents of his stomach spread outwards from his throat and mouth and across the dirt. He sat in the dirt, next to his regurgitation, sucking in heavy air.

How could this happen?

After a few minutes, he returned, attempting to clean with his tongue between his teeth with what saliva he had left. He realised he had not used a sharpened stick to clean his teeth since, since that first fateful night. Juolo would scold him for that, he was sure. While in Porto Cerro, he would have to find something to rid his teeth of the yellow substance that was certainly making home in his mouth.

It must have been a more appropriate moment in Erinu’s story, for he could hear her summing up.

“That was the last time anyone had their way with me. My father then came and rescued me.”

“You have nothing to fear. The gods are looking after you, now,’ said Sceala. She noticed Berin reenter the hut. A knowing look came his way. She stood up.

“Let me talk to your father for a moment.”

She twinkled over to Berin, her back to Erinu.

“What did she say?”

“She remembers little of the man on the ship. All the times men were intimate, she does not seem to recall.”

“Has she erased them from her memory?”

“Perhaps. They are there, unfortunately, but they have been pushed so far down. It is the only way she can cope with the emotions of it all.”

“How bad is it, physically?”

“I have seen many women, ladies of the night. Usually it is a nightmare down there. For Erinu, it is not as bad as it ought to be.”

She placed a hand on Berin’s arm, a hand with beautiful, elongated fingers. He felt comforted by this strange woman.

“What can we do to ease the pain?”

“Ah, I have the remedy for that.” She slid over to her jars, pointing her finger at every few one, searching for the correct label.

“Ahah! Here it is. Allow me to show you how to apply it, Erinu.”

Erinu nodded. The woman whispered to Erinu. Berin looked away while the orange ointment was applied.

“How does that feel, Erinu?”

“Better.”

“Thank, thank you,’ stammered Berin. ‘How can we repay you?”

“You and your daughter, come and eat with me tonight.”

“Can we, Papa?”

“How generous of you, ah, Sceala, but you see, there are four of us.”

“My brother Rini and our friend, Glavino.”

“So we would be a burden.”

“Nonsense! I enjoy having company.”

“What will your husband say?”

“I have no husband.”

Sceala flashed a smile, her bright teeth shining in the dank, dark room.

She uses a sharpened stick, for sure.

Berin closed his mouth and ran his tongue along the front of his teeth.

“Right, well that is settled then. Go and collect your brother and friend, Erinu. Your father and I shall prepare the meal.”

“Papa, going to prepare a meal!” Erinu raised her eyebrows.

“Hey! Who has been feeding you these last few veros?”

Erinu chuckled.

“True, but you cannot cook like Mama.”

Erinu left, leaving Berin holding his breath, waiting for Sceala’s instruction.

“Help me with the fire wood.”

Berin obliged, transferring the wood from the pile to the fireplace.

“Tell me about Erinu’s mother.”

Berin paused.

Why not? There is no harm in this.

“Juolo? She is a gem. She is a native Vergaran, whereas I am not.”

“Really?”

“Yes.’ Berin reached and felt Juolo’s necklace on his belt. He had forgotten about it in all this time. His memories of Juolo came rushing back.

“Is she…”

“Dead? No, at least, I have hope she is not.”

“Where is she?”

“To the north. She was also sold as a slave.”

“What about your son and friend, were they slaves?”

“My son was. Glavino, no, he is my greatest friend and ally. We have been together since the beginning of this odyssey.”

“Oh, I thought he was a friend of your son.”

“No, no! Well, he is becoming like an uncle to them. He is my friend.”

“I cannot wait to meet him.”

“I am sure he will be too.”

Berin stoked the fire, the flames rising briskly through the crackling.

“Good wood you have here.”

“It is the best, is it not?”

“Yes, easy to burn.”

“And it burns for a lengthy time. Should keep us warm.”

“It is the end of summer, is it not?”

“Summer has been and gone, my friend. How long have you been away from home?”

“I have lost the number of veros.”

“Must be many.”

Berin thought it was time to broach the subject he avoided while outside. His stomach was returning to normality.

“What did Erinu say to you about what happened to her?”

“Do you not know?”

“No. Her speech has been little since she was rescued.”

“I will tell you. If she told me, a complete stranger, then I see no harm in her father knowing as well. Erinu was abused on the ship. Many times. Too many she cannot remember them. When they landed in Hawr, she was sold to a man, the owner of an inn.”

“I know the man.”

“He taught her how to behave for all the men sent to her room.”

“Did he, was he intimate with her?”

“She did not say. I think not. Still, he is as low as the dung of a lurinda.”

“A what?”

“Never mind.”

“Does she remember what the men did to her?”

“Very little. Perhaps it was how she coped, removing herself to another place to ease the pain.”

“Perhaps.”

“Her eyes glistened when she mentioned you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. You have liberated her. I am sorry I doubted you before.”

“Doubted? How?”

“I thought you were the one who abused her. I see many men with their daughters and I think…”

“How could anyone abuse their daughters?”

“It happens.”

“How? How can anyone defile their own flesh and blood?” Berin spat onto the ground.

“I have seen it all too often.”

“The men of Porto Cerro are disgusting.”

“I am certain it happens in Vergara.”

“Never. The men there would never hurt…” he paused his virtuous stance his mind began to wander. Perhaps there were Vergaran men out there, their morals below the dirt, wanting to make their way with their kin. Berin shuddered.

Sceala returned to stir the pot she placed above the fire.

“You will have to tell me your tale.”

“Ahh, you know about Erinu, about my wife and about me, at least a little. What about you?”

At that moment Erinu arrived.

“We have returned!”

“Thank the gods!” muttered Berin. There was something about this woman, something magnetic, but he could not master the thought. It was better to be in the company of many than the company of her, alone.

“Sceala, meet my brother, Rini, and our wondrous friend, Glavino.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Rini. Oh my, Glavino is a large one. Hello, handsome.” She winked in his direction.

Glavino sheepishly glanced away.

“Hello, lady.”

“It is Sceala to you, Glavino.”

“Sorry, Sceala.”

“That is fine. Come, come, and sit down. I will get the meat on while we talk. I was just about to tell your father my story.”

“I love stories!” cried Rini.

“Me too,” said Glavino.

“Right, are you ready?”

Sceala posed, ready to use her hands. In fact, her whole body told the tale as she began enthralling the others.

“I grew up in Porto Cerro with my three brothers and seven sisters.”

“What a large family!”

“Not here in Porto Cerro. My father is a builder of houses and my mother took good care of her children. My father built us a marvellous house near the seaside. We never had enough money, but we always were well fed and my father used to take us fishing in the sea when he could. We would always catch yubbas. They are the most delicious fish you will ever taste. It is a shame I have none here tonight.

“Anyway, one day, my father took my three brothers. When night came, they had not returned. We searched along the foreshore, but found nothing. The next morning, my father strode quietly into the house. We hugged. I asked him where my brothers were. He only shook his head.”

Berin’s hand began shaking. He placed his adunai over it to hide the rhythmic shudder.

“My three brothers drowned. From that moment on, my father never spoke again.”

“How does he communicate?”

“Mainly with grunts and using his hands.”

“Like you?”

Sceala placed her hands behind her back.

“I do not use my hands to talk.”

“Yes you do,” said Rini.

“Well, perhaps I do.”

“Why did she tell us this?” whispered Glavino to Berin.

“Perhaps because we have been so open with her, she decided to tell us all.”

They returned to the conversation.

“I would like to meet him,” smiled Erinu.

“You just might. How long do you plan on staying?”

“We are not certain, yet,’ said Berin. ‘We must get north before the cold weather sets in.”

“Fine.”

“Continue your story, Sceala.”

“After the death of my brothers, I needed to help my father with building. He thinks I became good at it, though I suspect he always wondered how the boys would have fared if they were still alive.

“It came time for our vocation selection.”

“What is that?” asked Glavino.

“It is where the elders watch each of the boys and girls coming of age and decide what path we take.”

“The elders decide?”

“Yes.”

“In our land, it is up to each human to decide their path in adulthood,’ said Erinu. ‘However, it is the elders who influence who we are to wed.”

“Is that so?” Sceala returned to her cooking, careful not to use her hands as she spoke.

“Yes. I cannot wait to see who the elders suggest I marry. Papa, do you think we will have undinuco when we return?”

“Of course, darling,’ though he wondered if they would ever return. Berin returned to the topic at hand. ‘How do they decide, Sceala?”

“Our vocation? They observe us for thirty veros. Then they provide each of us with a series of tasks. Their decision is based on this, and what the community requires at that time.”

“Do you have a choice?”

“Usually, no. If you refuse, you are sent away to work in the Marshlands. Nobody wants to work there. You last little time if you work in the Marshlands.

“The vero before the reckoning, a man came into the city. He was wearing a cloak, dark as night, and he carried in it many jars. My mother called him Valeri. My father called him the Medicine Man.

“Valeri was known for his skill to cure most illnesses. Wherever he went, people flocked from the surrounding districts, bringing their frail kin to him for healing. I met him as he was staying near our house one evening just as the sun dipped below the ocean. We began to converse. I told him about the reckoning. He asked me what vocation I expected to receive.”

The meat was ready. Sceala pulled it apart in strips and handed the pieces out. She poured over the broth, full of herbs and roots Berin had never smelt.

“Eat up, before it gets cold.”

The northerners glanced at their plate. Berin was the first to begin eating. The texture of the food was unusual but the taste, Berin decided, delightful. His beaming face encouraged the others to start eating.

“This is amazing, Sceala.”

“Thank you.”

“Please, continue the story.”

“Valeri said, ‘I need an apprentice. You have the makings of a healer. Would you come with me?’

“I was flabbergasted. Here was a famous man, healer of many folk, and he wanted my help. How could I refuse?

“The next day was the reckoning. I was sure I would become a builder, like my father. If I became a builder of houses, I was going to kindly reject Valeri’s proposal. To be with my father, day in, day out, was the desire of my soul. I could not refuse my father over a mere stranger.

“The reckoning, to say the least, sent quakes from my head to my feet. My peers felt the same. We dreaded the moment when the elder would etch our future in stone, permanently. We stood before the elder as he read out our vocations. It was my turn. The whole world became blurred. I stepped forward to catch my balance. The elder’s lips moved but I heard nothing. As he shifted to the next girl, I leaned my ear to my friend and asked, ‘What did he say?’

“Her reply was, ‘Tanner.’ How could I be a tanner? I knew not the vocation. Why had I not been chosen as a builder? Or something at least with a pinch of respect?”

“What did you do?” asked Glavino.

“I ran away, with Valeri. It seemed the only thing to do. I was not going to be a tanner, nor be transported to the Marshlands. There was no other option than to follow the path Valeri suggested.

Berin tried guessing her age. Sceala would have to be no more than 25 eklars. He was hopeless with guessing ages. She was from another tribe. Berin had enough trouble with Vergarans. He returned his mind to the tale.

“Valeri taught me about all the plants of the field, the ones that healed and the ones that poisoned. I became a skilled healer. Valeri often argued I was the better healer. How could I be? He was the expert. He taught me the art of healing.”

Sceala paused for a moment, glancing towards the door.

“That was when Valeri passed to the other world. Shuiku bandits killed him when he was caring for a woman.

“I shall never forget the vero I heard he was dead. The callousness in my soul flowed from every pore in my skin and out through my mouth. My tears were unstoppable. From that moment on, I resolved to carry on his work. Since then I have been the sole healer for the district.”

The plates were empty of food. The northerners had, without noticing, finished while listening.

“An amazing tale. Valeri must have been a wonderful man.”

She must be more than twenty-five, if she is a responsible healer for the district.

“He was. He became like a father to me. Though I had a loving one, choosing another path for my life made my family angry at first. They disowned me at the time. Now all is well, but it was not for a very long time. I had to regain their trust.”

“But Sceala, you did nothing wrong.”

“In their eyes, I did.”

Sceala let out a yawn, though she tried to cover it.

“I think it is time to return to our inn.”

“Did you find one in which to stay?” asked Berin.

“Yes, indeed.”

Sceala sat upright. “Oh, that was not a suggestion for you to leave. I apologise.”

“It is fine. We need our rest as well. How about I help with the washing.”

“Nonsense. It will not take me long. Berin, would you like to join me as I travel around the district tomorrow distributing medicine?”

“Oh, can I come as well?” asked Rini. Erinu responded in the same way with her eyes.

“I think this is only for adults,” said Glavino.

It was clear Sceala sighed, though she tried to hide it. “How about you come for the evening meal again and we can enjoy each other’s company. So, will you join me, Berin?”

Berin’s eyes searched into Sceala’s. He wondered the purpose of her request. She held his gaze, unmoved, except for the slightest curl of her lips.

“I shall.”

“Splendid. How about sunrise? We will get to the market so I can gather food, then we will carry out my duties.”

“Splendid,” Berin copied.

“Well, goodnight, my friends.”

“Goodnight Sceala.”

The four left the house, eagerness leaping in their hearts. Another soul had reached out to them. Berin wondered again the purpose of Sceala. Why not Glavino? She seemed slightly interested in him. Who would know? Berin left the questions unsettled as he slept that night.

Must be up before dawn.