Chapter Eleven

Lamorna came awake with a start to find Vanora bent over her, hand resting on her shoulder. She felt as if she’d only now fallen asleep for the last thing she remembered was her head touching the pillow. Surely it could not be time to awaken already?

But Vanora was whispering for her to move. She had the baby already well swaddled, cradled close to her body.

Lamorna dragged herself off the pallet. Splashing cold water on her face had the desired effect, shocking her awake.

“Eat first,” said Vanora. “Then we must leave.”

Nodding mutely, the young girl sat at the table, stirring the still-steaming oatmeal but making no effort to eat.

“Lamorna...”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I do not know when your next hot meal will be. You must try to eat something.”

With a great sigh, she reluctantly spooned the smallest amount into her mouth, very aware of Vanora’s gaze on her. She had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that it was the best oatmeal she had ever tasted even though she’d always believed her mother’s to be the best.

“Would you like to try it with this?” Vanora picked one of the jars off the shelf, removed the top and offered the contents to Lamorna who stared, wide-eyed, at it.

“What is it?”

Vanora tilted her head to the side. “Apple jam.”

“Jam? Ordinary jam?”

“Is there any other kind?”

Shamefaced, Lamorna shook her head as she spooned some onto her oatmeal.

“What did you think it was?” Vanora’s smile showed she already suspected the answer.

Not long afterwards, Lamorna stood, poised, behind Vanora at the threshold. Darkness still prevailed, and she pursed her lips. “It’s still night.”

“Hush. It is closer to daybreak than you think. I need to get you and the little one to safety before anyone wakes, and be home again myself, unseen.” Yet, despite her urgent words the woman remained, unmoving, in the doorway.

An impatient sigh escaped Lamorna as she fidgeted with her bundle of belongings that hung across her body.

“Are you certain of this path?” Vanora turned to Lamorna, peering into her face; her grey eyes seemed to pierce right through to the girl’s soul. “I need to know; do you have even the smallest doubt? If this is no more than a whim, go back to Lulie.”

All trace of grumpy sleepiness vanished at Vanora’s quiet, yet stern, tone. “I–I don’t...” Her confidence was beginning to ebb.

“I am risking my life helping you like this. I need you to understand, fully understand, that once we start down this path there is no turning back. If you do not have the conviction to see this through, then go back.” Straightening up, she held the infant at arm’s length. “Take him. Go back to Lulie.”

Lamorna stared at her sleeping brother, so well wrapped, his tiny face barely visible. Returning to Lulie was the safer, more sensible, decision. After all, she knew nothing about taking care of herself, especially out in the open, let alone taking care of a baby. How could she think of endangering him and Vanora, all because of her own selfishness, because she did not want to be married? “I-I could go to Daroth as Aherin said, with the baby.”

Vanora regarded her thoughtfully, if a little sadly. “Yes, you could do that.”

Lamorna eyed her. “You don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She raised a brow. “It is not for me to say; the decision has to be entirely yours.”

The young girl buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Whatever decision you make, we have to do it now or it will be too late,” said Vanora as she glanced skywards. “Soon, Lulie will awaken to ready you for your journey to Daroth’s house.”

Lamorna did not respond straightaway. “I could go to Daroth’s now, on my own, with the baby,” she said.

Vanora failed to hide her surprise. “Oh, Lamorna, you are not prepared.”

“Then hide me, like you were going to. Hide me from the soldiers. And we wait. Then I’ll go to Daroth’s.”

“You seem so sure. And yet, only yesterday, you could not bear the thought–”

“It was my selfishness. But I cannot put you or the baby in such danger. Out there, alone in the wild, we would surely perish.”

Vanora regarded her a while longer. “I will take you now, to the hiding place. And while there, think, Lamorna, think well which path to choose. The easiest may not always be the best in the end.”

Before she could respond, Vanora was already pulling her out, and shutting the door. Clutching her bundle of clothes and food against her, she hurried after Vanora, scared of losing her in the dark.

They had not gone far, and already she’d lost her bearings; the only thing she knew was that they were heading away from the village. Feathery things brushed against her on all sides, and she cried out.

“Hush,” said Vanora. “It is only the barley field.”

Even then, she failed to stop herself whimpering.

“Here.” Vanora shoved the edge of her cloak at Lamorna. “Hold this if it makes you feel better.”

Clinging to the cloth as if it were a lifeline, Lamorna stumbled after the white-haired woman who seemed to know exactly where to go even in the dark. Then they were out in the open again with Vanora setting a much faster pace.

Lamorna silently wondered where they were; she could see lights high up, in the distance, but she could not work out what they were. She wanted to ask but did not dare for the sense of urgency emanating from the older woman was impossible to ignore.

The dark seemed to Lamorna to be, strangely, even darker, and cool, damp. The smell of earth seemed to close in on her. She unintentionally pulled back, almost losing her grip on the cloak. Only her fear of being lost in the dark, of being alone in the dark, made her follow Vanora.

When they came to a stop, she ventured a soft, “Where...?”

“The forest.”

“The forest?” Her words sounded deafeningly loud around them.

“Do you want us to be caught?”

“Sorry–”

“Yes, this is the forest, on the other side of the path. But it is nothing to be afraid of.”

It’s dark and cold, and so quiet. How can I not be afraid? she argued silently before saying, “I have to hide out here?”

“Not out in the open. Under it.”

“Huh?”

“Here.” She handed the baby to Lamorna, and crouched down. After a few moments, she murmured, “Ah, good.” Sounds of quiet rummaging emanated from the ground, then a small light appeared.

Lamorna sighed with relief before her mouth fell open, eyes widening at the sight afforded by the small illumination – a hole in the forest floor. Vanora had already dropped the bundle of Lamorna’s belongings into it and was gesturing for her to follow as she entered.

“In there?”

“Yes, quickly.”

Holding her brother against her as if he were a shield, she peered in and exclaimed softly; steps had been cut into the earth, leading down. Vanora held the little lamp up so Lamorna could see the way and she descended carefully. Standing by Vanora, she looked around but could not see much.

The hole was larger than she’d imagined it to be. It was wide enough that if Lamorna stretched her arms out either side of her, her fingertips would almost touch the walls. And it was high enough for Vanora to stand up straight; even then the top of her hair brushed the ‘roof’. It was clean and dry, with straw piled up by the far end.

Vanora quickly showed her again how to prepare the milk. Handing her more candles, she said, “Never light more than one or the smoke will overwhelm you. I will return tonight, under cover of dark.”

“Don’t go.” Lamorna’s eyes were wide, her voice shrill.

The woman smiled kindly as she took hold of Lamorna’s hand. “There is nothing to be afraid of. The dark is nothing to be afraid of. Everything you see in the light is still there in the dark, they do not disappear nor do they become something else. Now, you have things you must think through. The place where I believe you will be safe, if you decide to go, is another village far from here. They are... I suppose you might say, they are ‘my people’, people who are more free to believe as I do. They will take you in and care for you. Both of you. You will be safe there and you will not be parted. But you must decide, do you make that journey or do you take the path to Daroth?”

Her hand brushed Lamorna’s cheek then she was gone, leaving the girl standing in her earth sanctuary, a softly griping baby her only company.