Mati and the handsome young goat herder sat side by side on a log. Each person in the group, with the exception of Buna who had already left, gave lukewarm farewells, then went to pack rucksack and bedroll. With voices hardly louder than a whisper, no laughter brightened the forest clearing where the little tree-stump house stood silently.
Last of all, Rini came forward and mumbled good wishes for Mati’s future.
She didn’t dare look into his sad eyes.
When the remaining travelers were ready to depart, a cold fog began to creep in from the meadow, causing all the leaves and pine needles to drip.
Tera stood looking around with confusion. She saw most of her people take to the trail, and took a step to follow, but then noticed that Mati was not moving, nor even calling her to be saddled.
Mati hugged her donkey with one arm and held hands with the goatherd as she watched Ilika pause before leaving the clearing, turn and wave, then disappear into the trees.
Toli reached out his hand to Buna when they found her sitting in the meadow, tearing at the wet grass. She stood and started walking, but her angry pout warned Toli not to bother her. He silently carried her rucksack and bedroll for the next mile.
Ilika carried a different kind of weight, standing up for Mati’s freedom even as he dreaded losing her. Everyone else walked with slumped shoulders
and downcast eyes as they trudged along through the mist. Kibi could see the pain in Rini’s eyes on the rare occasions he looked up from the trail.
The road soon narrowed at the northern end of the meadow. Two trails continued, one into the far northwestern corner of the kingdom where few people lived, and the other into the heart of the mountains. Neither could accommodate wagons or carts. From this point, only feet or hooves could pass. Boro led them onto the right branch toward the mountains.
The trail quickly climbed above the fog and into bright sunshine. A few hundred feet above the meadow, they came to the cabin of the other herder Farmer Koto had mentioned, an older man with many sheep, a few goats, and two dogs. He and Ilika agreed they would camp in his yard and the group would make a hearty stew with smoked mutton and other supplies from his cellar.
“I thought you didn’t like to eat meat,” Boro asked, just for something to say.
“I don’t, but for the next week or two we’ll be in a colder climate. The fat in the mutton will help our bodies keep warm, especially at night.”
With little joy, the students set up camp around the shepherd’s outdoor fire circle. After unrolling her bedroll, Kibi faced Ilika. “We need to stay here for a little while,” she said with her firmest voice. “At least . . . three days.”
Ilika looked into her eyes and saw complete determination. “Can you tell me . . . what’s up?”
“I . . . um . . . planted some seeds . . . and they need a little time to sprout.”
Ilika
nodded.
“Are you sure you didn’t get burned out of Lumber Town?” the old shepherd asked as they sat around the campfire drinking tea that evening.
“I’ve rarely seen a group of souls look as sad as you folks.”
“We . . . lost a friend,” Neti said, “but not in the fire.”
“A girl, I’d guess,” he went on as he looked around the circle with keen eyes, “and I bet she belonged to . . . the quiet freckled lad there.”
Rini looked up with moist eyes.
“Death comes to all of us,” the old man said, taking a deep drink of his tea.
“I was not always alone up here.”
“She didn’t die,” Rini said softly. “She just . . . chose to live with someone else.”
“That’s cold. A better one will come along. You just have to wait.”
“I will,” Rini whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek.
By mid-morning the following day, the shepherd’s cabin was bathed in warm sunshine even though the meadow below was still enshrouded in thick, cold fog. With a hearty breakfast of porridge and milk in their bellies, Ilika announced a review of all the mathematics necessary for trigonometry.
For an hour, their teacher gently coaxed them along, but not even Toli or Sata could find any interest in the subject.
After reheated stew for lunch that none of them tasted, Ilika asked them to write about their feelings. Boro succeeded in breaking another pencil. Neti couldn’t remember how to spell even the simplest words. The rest fared little better.
By late afternoon, Ilika got the message and let them just sit, or wander in the nearby trees, or talk quietly among themselves. He and Kibi worked with the shepherd’s supplies to make mutton soup with dumplings. They all ate dinner in silence.
Misa asked for someone to tell a story as they sat around the fire in the evening, but no one offered.
“I think we need a week for everyone to get over it,” Kibi said late the following morning as she and Ilika sat on a nearby hillside. Below they could see Boro and Neti working on something for lunch. In the background spread the large meadow, now full of painful memories.
“I’m . . . not willing to wait that long.”
Kibi looked at him with questioning eyes.
“On my ship, things will sometimes happen to make us sad. That doesn’t mean we can completely cease to do our jobs. I’ll give you those three days.
Tomorrow I’m leaving, with those who are ready to continue learning, while they grieve if necessary.”
Kibi was silent for a minute. “Count me in. And . . . as strange as it sounds
. . . I’m sure Rini will be with us.”
After lunch, the shepherd prepared to take his flock to a meadow several miles to the north. Once he and his animals were gone, the camp became deathly quiet. The warm afternoon air was very still, and Misa thought she could hear Farmer Koto’s sheep at the south end of the meadow.
For a few moments, no one responded to the sound of hooves on the trail below. Suddenly everyone jumped up and ran down the path.
Tera gave her two-toned call when she saw her people. She seemed to be carrying a large sack, which slid off into Boro’s arms as soon as the donkey came to a halt.
Mati, barely conscious, eyes swollen and caked with dirt, looked out from the mud-covered rag that had once been her cloak. “Never . . . again . . .” she mumbled.
Deep Learning Notes
In a sense, grief caused by death is easier than what happened to the group.
Death is final, and rarely do questions linger about what might have been done, or what could still be done. During those days at the shepherd’s cabin, what things do you think Buna was tempted to do? How about Rini?
Three days is a traditional grieving time in many cultures. It is long enough for most healthy people to get over the worst of the feelings, but not so long as to disrupt life completely. Kibi asked for those three days, and got them.
Then she asked for a week. Assuming Mati didn’t return, how long would you have needed?
Which of the “seeds” Kibi planted do you think sprouted?
The “denial” phase of grief was represented by Buna. The “negotiating” phase was represented by Kibi. Most of the others experienced the “depression”
phase during those days at the shepherd’s cabin, unable to find excitement in
lessons or anything else.
If Mati had not returned, which students do you think would leave with Ilika the next day, even though they might still be grieving?
Chapter 47: Mati’s Story
Everyone wanted to help. So many volunteers crowded around that Ilika was able to slip away, leaving Kibi in charge.
Sata, making a pot of soup, had people offering their services constantly.
The pile of firewood was rapidly growing and threatening to topple over. Tera had her every need fulfilled by Rini, with extra helpers when they were shooed away from the cooking fire.
Neti and Buna tended their stricken friend, cleaning and applying ointment to bruises and scratches, while Miko and Toli bumped into each other bringing water, cloth, or anything else the girls needed.
Soon Sata was feeding Mati warm soup, a spoonful at a time, while Misa tucked blankets around her and Kibi rubbed her feet.
It occurred to Mati that she may have just gone through Hell, but now she was in Heaven.
Although Mati looked terrible when she first arrived, none of her injuries were serious. Her worst problems were hunger and thirst, and Sata’s delicious soup quickly remedied both. Mati slept for a few hours, and when she awoke, the sun had set, the fire was built up against the evening chill, and Neti was passing out mugs of tea.
After sipping her tea for a few minutes, Mati’s story began with a very unexpected statement. “He really is a good man.”
Mouths fell open all around the fire circle as everyone, including Ilika,
struggled to understand how Mati could have been in the condition she was, and then made such a statement.
“He just wanted a good wife, a companion to cook and clean for him, a girl to warm his bed and bear him children. There’s nothing wrong with that. The only problem was . . . by the end of the first day, I felt like I was back in slavery. It felt so bad . . . I knew I couldn’t be a simple, obedient wife to him
. . . or anyone else.”
“But he didn’t have to beat you!” Buna burst out, seething with anger.
Mati looked at Buna with understanding. “He didn’t beat me. In fact, he offered to help several times, but I wouldn’t let him. All the scratches and bruises and mud . . . were all my fault.”
Disbelieving looks met Mati’s glance all around the circle.
“I’d better start over from the beginning.”
Boro nodded slowly.
“During the first afternoon, he showed me his house and told me all the things I could do to help him. I loved the little house, and I was completely willing to cook, and clean, and warm his bed.”
Mati glanced at Kibi before continuing. “But I also wanted to do something I could do well, so I told him I could read and write. It could earn us money — scribes aren’t cheap!”
Everyone nodded or laughed.
“He brushed it off and said I had to learn to milk goats. I was willing to milk goats, but I didn’t want to feel like a slave, so I told him I knew arithmetic, even a little trigonometry. Lumber Town’s going to need an accountant, maybe a surveyor, when they rebuild. He laughed and said I had to clean the house.”
“Creep,” Misa mumbled under her breath.
Mati smiled. “After that I didn’t hold anything back. I told him I knew the rules of logical inference, and the fallacies, and I could help him solve problems. He said he didn’t need that kind of help, and I had to learn my place. That made me mad.”
Miko nodded and grinned. “Good for you!”
“I told him I knew the atomic numbers of the common elements, and could figure out their electron levels.”
Kibi tried to keep from grinning, but wasn’t doing a very good job.
“Then we just stopped, right there in the middle of the house, and glared at each other without saying a word. At that moment I knew in my heart I couldn’t be a simple wife to a simple goatherd. It’s all your fault, Ilika.”
Ilika
smiled.
“What do you mean?” Toli challenged.
“I know what she means,” Boro said. “I felt the same thing back at Farmer Koto’s house. We can never go back to being simple people, can we, Ilika?”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Probably not. Mati found out what it’s like to have all her knowledge belittled. You, Boro, were recently offered a life without trigonometry or chemistry or the deep trust you’ve developed with your fellow students. The fact is, none of you are simple people. Most people make life choices by basic emotions and simple needs. I picked all of you because I thought you could go beyond that.”
Boro pondered his teacher’s words for a moment. “I thought so. Thanks.”
“Thank you for choosing the harder road, Boro. And you also, Mati.”
Mati smiled at the black-haired girl beside Ilika. “Kibi helped. She told me things . . . I already knew, but just didn’t quite believe yet. But . . .” Mati paused and sighed. “I had to find out for myself.”
Kibi glanced up from her mug of tea.
“The next two days were a living Hell worse than anything I ever experienced as a slave. But every bit of it was my own doing.
“I wouldn’t let him help. I had gotten myself into that mess, and I wanted to get myself out. It took me hours to get my saddlebags and bedroll to the back of the shed where Tera was tied. By then it was dark. I cried and talked to Tera, then curled up in the dirt beside her and slept.”
“I wish we had known . . .” Neti said with sympathy.
Mati smiled for a moment. “Then yesterday it was cold and foggy all day.
I woke up shivering and I don’t think I ever stopped. About noon I tried getting Tera saddled. I stacked up old boxes, but most of them were rotten and wouldn’t hold me. I got it on once, but it slipped off and fell right on top of me.”
Boro growled. “I feel so guilty for not being there to help!”
“No!” Mati shouted. “I needed to do it myself. Ilika understands.”
Teacher and handicapped student made eye contact.
“Then, just before dark, I was whimpering and close to giving up when suddenly Tera looked at me and lay down. I laughed and cried at the same time because I had been doing everything the hard way.”
Several of her friends chuckled.
Mati smiled. “I easily got the saddle on and Tera stood up when I asked her. In the twilight I got it cinched a little, but then I was exhausted. I curled up in the dirt again and cried myself to sleep. Poor Tera had to sleep all night with the stupid thing on her back, but she lay down next to me and kept me warm on one side.”
Sata and Buna smiled.
“This morning I cried again when I realized I had put on the saddle without the saddlebags.”
Moans of sympathy came from all around the fire.
“But I refused to leave them, still packed with supplies from Farmer Koto, my clothes, and the ointment. So after feeling sorry for myself for an hour or two, I got over it and just put them on top of the saddle.”
Rini, who had unsaddled Tera, grinned knowingly.
“Even with Tera down, it took another hour to get the bedroll tied on. I was so weak and tired, I looked to see if it was getting dark so I could sleep again.”
Buna started laughing. “It was probably about noon!”
Mati grinned. “Next came the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I never actually sat in the saddle. With the saddlebags sticking out, all I could do was hold on while Tera stood up. Then I just hoped and prayed she knew which way to go.”
Neti smiled. “She did.”
“She’s a good donkey, and I love her with all my heart,” Mati declared.
Suddenly her eyes snapped open wide. “Oh, no! I forgot my crutch!”
Rini
snickered.
Ilika reached behind him and brought the precious item into view. “This one?”
Mati sighed deeply.
“So
that’s where you went after Mati arrived!” Miko said with gleaming eyes, looking at Ilika.
Buna grinned. “Did you have to use your bracelet on the dog?”
Ilika
nodded.
Deep Learning Notes
What would Mati have had to give up to be a simple, obedient wife?
What would the goatherd have had to learn in order to keep Mati?
How much harm was Ilika doing by educating people beyond anything possible in their culture? What should he do to make up for this harm in the ones he will select for his ship? What about the ones he doesn’t select?
To realize that Kibi was right about the ship, what would Mati have had to think about?
It is fairly easy to experience what Mati went through getting Tera saddled.
Try packing a heavy suitcase and then loading it into a car or truck without ever letting one of your feet, knees, or legs touch the floor.