Terra Incognita

73

There was a squeak and a grinding, and the pig carcass over the fire began to turn.

“And then when she had taken a drink from the cup she handed it to her bridegroom, and-” The old man who was telling the story stopped and scowled at the boy clutching the handle of the spit. The carcass rolled back into its former position, rocking violently with its truncated legs splayed in the air. Dripping fat crackled and hissed into the embers, which flared in the fading light.

“And the bridegroom drank from the cup too. And she laughed when she saw that he had drunk all of the poison, and she said, ‘This is my vengeance for the wrong you did me!’ Then she died and went to rejoin her true husband, and the bridegroom died there too, in front of all the guests, and instead of holding a wedding feast they held…”

“A funeral!” shouted several voices.

“A funeral,” agreed the old man solemnly.

This dismal tale of justice and revenge was a familiar favorite, and there were murmurs of appreciation and a few cheers from the old man’s supporters among the crowd gathered around the fires. Someone else stepped up to sing a song.

Tilla glanced over her shoulder toward the house. The moon was clear now but her eyes were still dazzled by the bright flames and it was difficult to make sense of the silver and black world beyond them. She thought she could make out the shapes of the guards standing by the sagging porch. She wondered how the medicus was feeling. Alone in the dark house, listening to the crowd outside filling up with beer and bravado, he would be afraid.

She did not expect them to do anything serious to him-she had already told them he was a good man and probably not a spy-but then, she had not expected them to take him prisoner either.

“There was no need for that!’ she had pointed out as the men were dragging him toward the house. “He was leaving anyway.”

They said he had seen too much.

“Now the soldiers will come looking for him.”

They had looked at one another, then back at her. “Do they know where he is?”

She said, “I cannot tell you what the soldiers know.”

“Why did he come here?”

“Perhaps you should have asked him before you hit him on the head.”

They told her that she had not changed while she had been away. It was not meant as a compliment.

“My da would never have attacked a harmless soldier like that.”

“Your da was an old man,” they had said, flinging the struggling medicus face-first onto the ground and twisting a rope around his wrists.

“We’re running things now.”