Marek (Buried Lore Book 1) by Gemma Liviero Read Free Book Online

for her services.
    While
telling her this I noticed that she lay very still,
her face turned away. At first I thought I had bored her to sleep but when I
held my candle above her there were tears on her face that had turned patches
of dirt into mud pools. The carved rose was missing from where I had left it.
    With
my washcloth I cleaned the mud from her face to reveal a smooth, youthful olive
complexion. I handed her the cloth to clean her own hands and feet. She did not
object, so used to instruction, but she would not look into my eyes. It was
then I noticed the bruises up and down her arms, evidence of her beatings.
    ‘When
I return from the north, I will stop in again and check that you are in good
health, if you are still here,’ I said. Her tears ceased and she once again lay
down to face the wall.
    I
did not sleep well. I had been slow in my years to learn of the laws and
injustices of people, and in just a few weeks much of these had come to light.
These injustices coupled with the treatment of this child left me that night
feeling restless, frustrated and angry. In the morning, Celeste was gone again,
no doubt to do her chores.
    I
did not go near the farmhouse to say my farewell or collect my coin fearing I
might lose control and beat one of the sons with my fists. Instead I wandered
the fields in search of Celeste. She was nowhere to be found. I hoped that she
had run away to Valona after hearing my description.
    I
entered the oak woods, given enough information from the low autumn sun to know
which direction to take.
    The
oaks were huge inside the woods, blocking out much of the light, and their long
shadows added to the gloom. As I walked, I felt that I was being followed.
Several times I stopped to listen but my spy was stealthy. I was far into the
woods – creating a deep wall of trees behind me – when I heard the
rustling of fallen leaves. This time I hid waiting and was about to rush at the
human shape emerging from behind a tree when I saw that it was Celeste.
    She
stood holding a water skin and a small sack, presumably her only possessions.
The question in her eyes was clear. Would I take her with me?
    ‘Celeste,
I fear this journey is not something you should attempt with me. Although the
weather is mild now it will change. You do not have warm clothes or shoes. You
will freeze and I do not have enough food for both of us.’
    She
looked down at her feet in the damp earth but did not move to leave.
    ‘Go
back. I will find you on my return.’ I turned to continue my journey in thick
woodlands.
    ‘Wait!’
yelled a voice behind me.
    Esme ran
towards me, her large chest heaving from exertion, and she carried two knotted
linen bags. My first instinct was to ignore her, as I still struggled to
forgive such negligence; however, her effort with this task forced my
attention.
    ‘Take
her,’ gasped Esme , still trying to catch her breath.
‘There is nothing for her here. My sons cannot rest whilst she is around. They
are young bucks with other things on their mind, and as brainless as the sheep
on the hills. I do not want to see this girl become their plaything, presuming
I am not too late. Though, you cannot tell with her. She gives nothing away.’
    I
had not taken much notice of Esme before. She had
perhaps lived unhappily with an unkind husband who had run her ragged. It was
clear he had taught his children no respect. And Esme ,
who was probably a good woman once, with dreams of marriage and healthy
children, was left with a family of disappointment.
    ‘Celeste
deserves another chance. I promised her mother and I have not honoured it. I have packed you some food, a shawl for
Celeste, and some leathers for her feet. Perhaps you can find her some winter
boots along the way. She knows the woods. She can lead you northward.
    ‘I’m
sorry Celeste,’ said the older woman, before setting down the bags and turning
back to her joyless home. Celeste watched her go without expression.

 
    Celeste