Tongues will always clack at those who are different. Or so they did in the small village of Greenharrow where no affairs were ever private. I lived alone with my mother, and we both worked hard to keep our small farm running. I had no father.
As a child I had sharp ears. Sharper, it seemed than most people imagined. I might be running my way to sell some eggs at a nearby town, and Old Bess, the village gossip, would point me out to her friends. ‘’ Look!’’ she’d say, her tuft of white hair bobbing like a cloud. ‘’ There she goes, Pierrick’s daughter,’’ lowering her voice on the last two words. Her followers would stand her around like hungry wolves, lapping up words. ‘’ Why I’ve heard tell . . .’’ she would begin, while I hurried on to my destination already knowing what she was about to say.
By all accounts my father was no ordinary man. To some he was a charlatan, a swindler, and to some a great wizard. Their love had caused a stir and was quite well known in those days.
In days afterwards, I did my best to grow a tough skin against anything Old Bess and her idle followers might say, but I still remember when I learned about my father, not from mother, but from Old Bess. My mother had told me that he died, and had been trampled underfoot by a city carriage in an attempt to rescue a poor young woman. I believed every word of it, and put doubt aside until that fateful day.
It was autumn and dark brown leaves lay scattered on the ground. I wrapped my green cloak tighter to keep off the chill breeze. I walked along the main road, kicking up dust as I went. Old Bess walked arm in arm with two of her closest companions, Rosie Plate, and May Doren.
That day she looked as she always did, proud as a queen, her mound of white hair bouncing on her head like a very strange cap. She wore a dark blue shawl and a cotton dress. As I remember, she also wore an emerald brooch which might have looked lovely on some one else, but looked very odd on her.
Her profile turned towards me revealing her hawkish nose, and smooth dark eyes, like stones from a stream. The marks of age were woven across her face, like the sky, displaying its constellations.
‘’ Does she know?’’ asked Rosie Plate, clearly meaning me, though she did not look my way.
‘’ No,’’ said Old Bess. ‘’ I believe Hazel told the child some story about a carriage accident. An outrage, an abomination, to come up with anything so common!’’
Her voice took on a shrill tone, and her white hair bobbed frantically. She was a zealot with righteous rage. I was also well aware that she seemed to think me a doll of some sort; there but not listening. I kept pace with them and did not stop, but listened as I went.
‘’ Meaning of course that Pierrick was no common man?’’ asked May Doren, without really asking.
‘’ You know he wasn’t, May.’’ said Old Bess, lifting her chin. You saw how he looked, and the things he did. Such lovely green eyes . . .’’ She paused, lost in contemplation.
‘’ And such a strange man.’’ she finished.
I ran ahead unable to listen to more. My father might be alive, I thought, and I hadn’t known. But more than that, he wasn’t who I thought he was. I stopped suddenly. Pierrick. My father’s name was Pierrick. I hadn’t even known that much, and had found it out because of three gossipy old ladies. I ran on, hurrying to my duty, and to get away from them.
On my way home my mind came back to things that refused to leave me. I never was the darling of the village. I never was loved, or petted. There was a caution displayed towards, the kind of caution that one would display towards a dangerous animal. I had no playmates. Mothers pulled their children away from me. Was this why? Because of my father? I was left with a name and a mystery. I had not learned that name from my mother.
I wiped away the tears that threatened my eyes and ran home.
My mother stood before me, ready to welcome me back. She smiled her soft gentle smile, her thick coppery hair tied behind her in a long braid. I looked at her with eyes of hatred, and saw a woman who had betrayed me.
Before she could speak a word I blurted out,’’ Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you have to lie about father?’’
She bit her lip, and flinched at my accusation.
‘’ Of all who have walked the face of this earth, your father is one of the most wonderful.’’ Her gaze was set and determined. ‘’ Oh he loved you child, from the moment you came screaming into the world.’’ She sighed and her face looked older, and pained. ‘’ I didn’t want you to think he abandoned you, so I made up my story.’’
‘’Why?’’ I asked again. ‘’Why did he have to leave?’’
‘’ It was . . . complicated. He couldn’t stay. Life for him . . . well, it’s not like this.’’ she finished, and then waved her hands around, somehow symbolizing our village.
I looked up her, angry, but also disappointed. ‘’ Won’t you tell me more?’’ I asked.
‘’ No, I won’t. ‘’ she said. ‘’Come, our dinner is growing cold.’’
I sat down at the table and ate, my eyes locked on her, and said not a word.