I knelt beside him and opened my sewing sack, then brought out what I had stolen. A wedge of bread, two small apples, a thin slice of salted pork, and a leather jar of goat’s milk. I had taken much more than I should have, more than I would have gotten if I had taken the noonday meal at home, and it would certainly have to be the last time. The savage sat up with a small amount of effort to examine what I gave him, and then those blue eyes were on me again.
“Will you share this with me?” he asked, that odd smile on his face again. “My people believe that none should go without unless all go without, and I would dislike seeing you hunger because of your kindness. While we eat we can talk, and . .
“No!” I said abruptly, straightening out of the crouch I had taken. “I want none of it, and none of you as well! Eat or not as you please, savage, and stay or not as you will. I have chores to be about, and will not come again.”
I turned then and hurried out of the bushes, firmly putting out of my mind the confusion I had seen in the light eyes that had not left my face. I had not expected a savage to be so strange, to sound more gentle than a wobble-legged lamb, to speak to me as though I had some importance, to smile as though I had gained his approval. I wanted none of his approval, none of his gentleness, and certainly had no intentions of speaking to him. I spoke to no one, shared my thoughts with no one, and was far better off for the lack of it all.
Once I returned to the goats I wandered around for a while, nudging my charges back into place with only half a mind. The day was lovely, the air cool despite the sunshine, as was usual for that time of the year, but it quickly became impossible for me to enjoy it. There were so many things I had no wish to think about that I barely knew which one not to think of first, and the confusion was making my head spin. What I most wanted was to give it all up, to let them win over me as they had done over everyone else in the community, but I couldn’t give them that satisfaction. I couldn’t give them that satisfaction, even if I wasn’t quite sure who the “them” was. Pember was one of “them,” that I knew, but the rest . . .
The balance of the day disappeared behind forced thoughts of the goats and the sky and the grass and the pleasure I would find in a death I would need to refuse even if it were offered, and at last it was time to return to the stockade. I closed the goats in their pen and made my way home, got there in time to help carry platters and bowls from the hearth to the table, then joined my family for the meal. After the prayer I sat with my brothers and sisters, waiting for what food there was to be passed to us, and for the first time noticed how much of what there was ended on my father’s plate. There were times some of it went uneaten, but my father was always the one to help himself first, to as much as he wished, and then my brothers were served. After my brothers came my mother, and then my sisters and me, to share what was left. Our father and brothers worked hard and therefore needed more, we had always been told, but we worked just as they did, expending all the strength we had, ending bone-weary and drained at the dimming of the day. Why were they always given the most, sometimes taking all but the barest taste, which was then left for us?
Why didn’t my people believe that one should not go hungry unless all went hungry?
I nearly shook my head to banish the whirling of my thoughts, but shaking was hardly the way to empty my head of the unwanted. I chose instead to study my plate, took only a little when the vegetable stew finally reached me, then began eating very slowly. After having eaten almost nothing the entire day, I still had no appetite worthy of the name. I chewed and swallowed with my full attention on those actions alone, and when my father spoke my name it took a moment before I was enough aware of it to look up at him.
“Time for you to be changing your dress, girl,” he said when my eyes were on him, that all-consuming satisfaction showing again. “First, though, you got a lesson coming. I looked in your sewing sack, and didn’t see nothing like what I should have. Upstairs, now, and I’ll be there directly.”
It came to me then that I had completely forgotten to change the things in my sewing sack, and my father had obviously looked in it last night as well as tonight. I stood up from the table and walked away without saying a word, but a small coldness was growing in the pit of my stomach. I felt as though a tightening, binding pattern was newly being imposed on my life, but I couldn’t yet see a way out of it.
I was dressed and downstairs again by the time Pember got there, but I wasn’t moving very easily. My father knew I hadn’t changed my mind about marrying Pember, and showed me in the usual way his determination that I would. When my caller and I were again seated in the dark on the porch, the stiffness of my movements was, for the first time, deliberately noticed.
“How far do you expect to get by continuing to provoke your father, girl?” Pember demanded softly, staring down at me from my left. “At this rate there will be little left of you by the time we marry.”
“There will never be so little left that I do marry you,” I said in answer, staring straight ahead into the night. “I won’t be bullied, Pember, and you of all people should know that.”
“Children bully in one way, adults in another,” he responded, not as angry as I’d expected him to be. “Adult methods are a good deal more effective, my dear Banni, and you’ll find them more undefiable as well. When you become my wife you’ll discover some of those methods are labeled duty, such as the bearing of my children. How large a family will we have, do you think, before you can bring yourself to beg for a respite before the next arrival? My mother begged after the sixth, but my father had no interest in her desires and continued on with the making of his family until the ninth babe took her life with its birth. You are a good deal smaller than my mother, less robust and more delicate. The time, I fear, will be much harsher for you.”
I realized then that he was trying to frighten me, and strangely enough that made me feel better rather than worse. My own mother had borne fifteen babes, twelve of whom had lived, and she was no larger than I. She, however, was well matched to the man she had married,i a strength I would certainly be lacking. If I was foolish enough to allow the thing in the first place.
“In order for a woman to be subject to wifely duties, Pember, she must first become a wife,” I said, still staring straight ahead rather than turning to look at him. “I resisted your bullying once, and mean to continue doing so.”
“How delightfully brave and persistent you are, Banni,” he said with a small laugh, still showing nothing of the anger I’d been trying to provoke. “Your naivete is certainly a large part of your charm, and I’m greatly tempted to give you the calling gift I meant to offer in another day or two. But no, why spoil the surprise? You’ll have it soon enough, and tonight we have other things to occupy us, do we not?”
His arm came around me then, caring nothing about the pain he gave, and then his other hand came to my face to raise it to him. I tried to fight as I had that time he had kicked me when we were children, but his strength was no longer that of a child and I no longer his size. He took the kiss he had said he would, that one and more after it, and I could do nothing but endure the insult. Another daughter might have been able to call out for her father’s help, but my father would have come to help him sooner than me. I accepted the insult in silence, then, and afterward went wordlessly to my bed.
The next day I was again sent out with the goats, and learned in an accidentally overheard comment that the time alone on the grazing tracts was for a purpose. I was meant to use the time thinking about the foolishness of the position I had taken, and eventually come around to seeing that cooperation was my only real choice. Because of that I made the effort to steal more food, and again had little difficulty in doing it. The reason was the same as it had been the day before, but this time my mother’s satisfaction with my lack of appetite was less than it had been. I was told that she would see to the choosing of my dinner that night, and also expected to see it completely consumed. I left the house without commenting, reserving what argument there might be for the time it became pertinent.