Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [20]
“We will, Troth, we will,” I said, anxious that we leave.
Bear, not waiting for her to reply, asked, “Is there anything you wish to take?”
Crying with hard grief, she looked about, then ran out to the hawthorn tree and tore off a sprig, which she concealed among her clothing.
“Crispin,” Bear called, “are you ready?”
I held up our sack. “I have everything.”
Bear grasped the girl’s hand. “We must go,” he said.
Troth, as though unwilling to look at what she was leaving, pressed her face against Bear. He squeezed her close again.
I waited some few feet off.
Bear gazed upward toward the sun. He took a deep breath. “We’ll go south,” he said at last.
“Where?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “Away.”
With that Bear strode off, still holding on to the whimpering Troth. I came a few steps behind, sack in hand, looking back over my shoulder.
Suddenly Troth stopped. From her garments she took out the hawthorn, held it over her head, and murmured words I did not understand. Then, as though possessed, she turned and began to run.
16
AS GOD WOULD HAVE IT, Troth led the way. We went southward, first running, then walking, then running again. My great fear was that Bear, not fully healed, would be unable to keep her pace. As it was, he had to pause and rest more than once. My own breathing was heavy. My legs ached.
Troth never looked back. Not once. All that she had been she seemed to put behind her. Backward glances were left to me. With all my fearful turnings I grew stiff-necked but saw nothing to suggest we were being followed.
I did not speak. But, then, I did not know what to say or what to think. In my thoughts I kept seeing what had happened. Its dreadfulness did not, would not fade. It brought on a constant shivering, as if death’s cold hand gripped my neck and would not let it loose. What, I wondered, could Troth be seeing in her mind?
I recalled all the doubts I had about Aude and Troth: how I thought them evil, malignant spirits. Then—as if to excuse myself—I asked myself why my blessed God had not intervened in Aude’s final moments. Why had He let it happen? Was He waiting for me to act? Was He unmoved because Aude worshipped other gods? I did not want to believe that of my most merciful Jesus. I also asked, what of Aude’s gods, her beloved Nerthus? Why had she not saved Aude?
When my footsteps brought me no answers, I allowed myself the notion that to run away may well be the answer God provides.
It was dusk when we halted, still deep among the trees. How many leagues we had come, I could not begin to reckon. Troth, I think, could have gone on. It was Bear who insisted we must stop. Face flushed, in a filthy sweat, limping, he was exhausted.
Troth immediately sat down, rolled onto her stomach, and cradled her head in her arms, eyes turned from us. There she lay, unmoving, surely the most soul-weary of us all. Now and again she whimpered. Was this the first time she was so far from her bower? Away from Aude? I would have guessed as much.
“We better not light a fire,” Bear cautioned.
“Do you think we’ve been pursued?”
“May God, in His mercy, say no. But it’s best to take care.”
“And food?” I said, realizing we had not brought any.
“We’ll need to be content with nothing till the morrow,” said Bear.
He sat next to Troth, close enough that she might know he was there. I sat on her other side, my knees drawn up, held by my arms.
The day faded to darkness. But if stars were above, I saw them not. Above us, tree leaves stirred as though to soothe the air. The footfalls of small creatures plucked the darkness. An owl hooted twice. Whether Troth slept, I could not tell. From the way Bear breathed I knew he was still awake.
“Bear,” I called, “was it wrong for me to disobey you—when I went with Aude and Troth?”
“Wrong for you to have gone. Right that you were there.”
“But … but one does not follow from the other.”
“Ah, Crispin, you desire your freedom, don’t you?”
“Yes … I do.”
“Then best learn: freedom is not just to be, but to choose.”
Though I tried to understand of what he