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When Khriein arrived the next morning, he was met by Anthropy’s mother in tears, and her father pulling on his boots in a hurry. “She’s gone, isn’t she?” He asked, his heart dropping to the floor with a dull thud.
Her mother nodded despondently; eyes downcast.
“Don’t go,” he said to her father, “I know where to find her.”
He kissed her parents, who had both become as dear to him as his own. With a promise to bring their daughter home, he vanished into the morning mist.
***
“Peor,” said Anthropy, thoughtfully. Running her fingers through the crystal clear water that surrounded their boat, she peered up at him. They had left in the evening and now a full moon illuminated the shore they were approaching.
“Yes?”
“How will revenge help us?”
He looked at her in astonishment, “If it doesn’t, nothing will. How can we go on knowing the masters are still living in comfort, with no consequences for what they did to us?”
“I know, but... what if we forgave them?” She countered.
“Did Khriein put that in your mind?” His harsh answer disturbing the stillness of the night.
She didn’t answer and looked away. Peor knew he was right. “Look Ann,” he said, “I know you like Khriein. But did you ever discover that he was not the one who sold you? Just because he was willing to take you back doesn’t mean he didn’t benefit from your suffering. If he really had nothing to do with your enslavement, and he really cared for you, don’t you think he would be trying to do something about your trauma? Isn’t forgiveness just ignoring what you’re going through? You can’t just patch up a wound and pretend it isn’t there, you have to care for it in order for it to heal.”
She turned away again. It made too much sense, and it hurt too much to think about.
Instead, she recalled what Ruhamah had told her about the farm. A week after they left, Master Vates released all the slaves. He told them he had a change of heart and gave them all money to help get them on their feet. The other masters were all sent away, and only Vates and his family kept the downsized farm operating. None of the masters had been punished for their cruelty.
The plan was simple. It was too much to try to hunt down every master who had worked there, and besides, they all took orders from the one who now considered himself “reformed.” They would arrive at dusk and as Anthropy kept watch, Peor would kill Vates. Under the cover of darkness, they would end the life of the man who had caused so much suffering.
She felt much better about everything the more she listened to him, so she spent much of the journey in silence, taking it all in. She convinced herself that as much as she wanted to trust Khriein, she really couldn’t, with so much evidence against him. Her “wound” from the farm had seemed to be healing when she was with Khriein, but she was now sure that all he had done was cover it up, for it stung now more than it ever had before. With each moment it grew worse. This, Peor explained compassionately, was simply the revealing of what was already there.
Her feelings about the farm and Khriein followed the same trajectory: The ache turned to resentment, and the resentment to anger.
***
Instinctively, Khriein knew Peor would take Anthropy back to where he had found them. So just a few hours behind, he followed them all the way back to the barn, but when he got there, they had already moved on. A bit of asking around told him where they had headed, so following their path he continued.
The last villager he spoke with mentioned seeing a young couple hurrying in the direction of “The Old Vates Farm” a few miles away, but he hadn’t even arrived before the local gossip reached his ears.
“Dead?!”
“Yes, the old farmer! Killed by a young girl, she’s on trial for murder today.”
“Upon my word! That’s extraordinary. Is there any more to the story?”
“She claims an accomplice, but he’s nowhere to be found. Folks think she might not be ‘all there.’”
Khriein found out where the court was to be held and ran to it. Once inside, he saw Anthropy at the head of the room in chains. Her head hung low; she looked completely undone.
The judge was finishing the charges laid against her, concluding with her sentence: A quota of forced labour which would take her entire lifetime to fulfil. Khriein made his way to the front of the room, interrupting the judge, “Your Honour.”
“Silence—“ he started, but was interrupted again: “I would like to plead guilty.”
The judge stopped. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m asking you to let her go, and give me her sentence.”
“Are you her accomplice? Did you kill Vates?”
“Yes,” came Anthropy’s voice.
It felt like an arrow hit his already shattered heart, but at least she gave him the help he needed to stay silent.
“He’s the one who killed Vates,” she said again. “I had nothing to do with it.”
The judge was understandably very confused by this turn of events. “Is this man a friend of yours?” He asked.
“No,” she answered quickly.
“How is it that you came to be accused then? Did you not say before that you had an accomplice? Is this the man?” The judge demanded. “If I discover that you’re changing your story, I can give you a harder sentence.”
Khriein remained silent while Anthropy carefully explained. “I tried to tell you that it was a man, not I, who killed Vates. This is that man. He is no friend of mine, I only saw him do it, and on my way to report it, I was falsely accused.”
“Your accent is the same,” the judge observed. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”
“I swear, I have never seen him before last night!” She cried, avoiding Khriein’s tear-filled gaze.
The judge turned to Khriein, “Is this true?”
He was silent for a moment before asking, “Do you think it’s true?”
***
Khriein’s promise to return her to her parents was kept, though he couldn’t personally bring her to them. They found her crying on the porch, too ashamed to go inside.
In the days that followed, she realized that her “wound” had not begun at the farm, as Peor had suggested. It began on the Ophidia, the moment she had begun to doubt Khriein’s love. She realized too, that though Khriein had helped it to heal, she had allowed it to be opened again when she doubted him the second time.
The more time she spent focusing on it, the more it grew, and the moment she had accused Khriein of her own guilt, it was as though it had become infected. It was with this infected sore that she now lived, having no idea how to begin to care for it.
Part 5: The Creek
Part 5: The Creek
