"The Dance, the Worship, and the Years of Silence," Part 4. (an unfinished story)
"It is a wondrous thing to come upon someone unawares and simply watch them."
In the previous scene, months after the story began, Dureena is in the house of her new husband—pregnant, and also lying on a sickbed. After she wakes from fevered sleep, her sister-in-law Kartika tells her that she has cried out and cursed the gods. There is danger in this—and, Dureena thinks, much danger in Kartika knowing some of the details that she would like to—but greater danger from despair.
That moment gave me hope.
And hope I have needed, for much has happened since I performed my dance--much that I could wish not to tell. The dangerous procession of events began just after I performed my dance. I was walking in the formal gardens of our host. (Different families of great renown host the dance year by year for all the daughters from many villages within a two-day journey.) There, I nearly came upon a young man who was ornately-clothed giving coins to a beggar. The beggar was seated on a thin cloth, and he had a mutilated left leg. I stopped and ducked under the dark green shadows of a thickly-leaved tree, tugging my servant—a girl somewhat older than myself—along with me. I looked into her shining brown eyes, and we silently conspired. Suddenly, it was as though she and I were sisters sharing a secret.
It is a wondrous thing to come upon someone unawares and simply watch them. Just so with the well-dressed young man. He neither held his eyes above the beggar, nor did he rush on his way as soon as he gave the gift. And then as he lingered, I beheld a thing most strange: The beggar did not fear to speak with him, as a man speaks with a friend. The beggar asked after the health of his parents and his brothers and sisters, as is customary among equals. Eyes laughing, the young man told the beggar of his sister’s good fortune: she had borne a healthy baby boy. I was amazed at this exchange of words--first to see the beggar felt he could speak in such a manner, and to see that he was indeed abetted by the young nobleman. Among our people, such was most forbidden.
But then my servant, standing at my side, coughed. The chance I had to glimpse this stranger shattered--like a finely-made bowl falling upon hard, shining tile. Immediately, the young man turned and began walking towards us vigorously. I was bespelled into place, my heart turning one way and then another. By the time he reached the shadows of the tree that had concealed me, though, I could speak again. When he saw that I was a girl, he stopped two arms-breadths away and looked to the side, away from me. I had seen his eyes for only a moment.
“Have I found danger as I stood there to speak?” he questioned. “Or will you keep this to be a secret within silence?” he continued, eyes darting back in the direction of the beggar. My eyes were down, but my words were bold. I said, “You have no fear of me. My eyes were glad enough to behold your deed that my heart would be glad to keep that secret til my death, for the pure joy of it.” In an instant, I looked at my servant. Her eyes were wide with excitement or fear: I could not tell which. But her loyalty was to my family, so perhaps she would hold her tongue. At the dawn of the morrow, she would make the long journey my natal village: hopefully that be sufficient to keep the secret safe. I thought all those things in an instant, for his voice soon returned to me, asking, “What is your name?” “I am Dureena,” I replied. The words he uttered next would spell my doom. “Ah, it is you who dance so beautifully, then.” I wanted the knowledge of his own name just then, but could not ask it, for that was not permissible. What we said after that, I do not remember, but I remember the way his smile transformed his face, tilted sideways away from me though it was.
Hope had come to me, you see, in that moment. I thought the hope would prove safe: I had asked the gods that I may see something in a suitor that would convince me he could care for Astrena. Love me and allow my younger sister into our home. You can surely know my mind if I tell you my thoughts: The tall man who stood before me had taken a risk by speaking to that beggar and treating him as though he were an intimate friend. That beggar had a deformed leg, which our people deem surely brings a curse. (It is permissible, and even encouraged, to give charity to such a man, for we understand that all are at risk of such a fate. But to speak with or eat with one is nigh forbidden.) Therefore, such a man as him may also not fear a curse from my sister Astrena.
The chance of being able to discover something so rare in the character of such a man with my own eyes in one day was small, and it was exactly like the request I had made to the gods. Not only that, but judging based on his clothing, he was likely from a wealthy family, which would reassure my mother. Lastly, and most dangerously, he spoke as though he had seen me tested on my dance that day, so I felt certain that he was among the eligible sons.
The story began here: "...a husband who is kind / patient / does not fear a curse."
Previous installment here: “I was not prepared for their [the gods’] spite .”
That was not just a one-week break—oops! (The school year started; I have new responsibilities, and boy do I need to adjust to them!) Well, I have another one coming up next week—this time hopefully not such a long “one-week break” as the last: my family is planning to travel!
I am excited about this part of the story, but I may have to “switch up” what fiction I’m posting soon—and instead share something previously written. (It’s partly for a good reason: I’m working on fiction for a writing contest or two!)
Great stuff dear Vikki 💜 want to read the next page
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