North Child (9 page)

I stared back at her, bewildered.

“The lie, Neddy. I was born for Elise. East. But I am Nyamh.” She said the name defiantly.

I still did not understand, although some glimmer of the truth was beginning to dawn on me.

“I am north, Neddy, not east. A true north.” And she kneeled and pointed to the white cloud at the north of the wind rose in her cloak. “A white bear for north,” she said.

So she had learned the truth at last. A truth that I had guessed at a long time before.

She read it in my face. “You knew! Didn't you, Neddy?”

I was silent a moment. Then I nodded. I saw tears come into her eyes, though she blinked them away angrily.

“At least…I didn't
truly
know,” I said quickly. “I guessed.”

“Why did you say nothing?”

“Because…it was only a guess, and I…” How could I explain that I felt the same way as Mother? I did not want Rose to be a north if it meant she would always be going away.

Her eyes suddenly blazed. “I do not know you, any of you.” And to my horror she grabbed up her cloak, and using her teeth to make the first tear, she savagely tore it in two. Then she took each of the two halves and ripped them again.

“North, south, east, west,” she chanted, “who's the one you love the best…?” She tossed the ruined cloak at me and stalked away.

I picked up the torn pieces and followed after her.

“Rosie!” I called. “Please wait.”

She slowed. I put a hand on her arm. “I'm sorry. I thought I must be wrong. I could not imagine Mother and Father lying about such a thing.”

She turned and I pulled her to me, holding her close. She was trembling so violently that I took off my own coat and wrapped it around her. “It's all right,” I murmured. Gradually her shaking lessened.

Then she looked up at me and said, “I mean to go with the white bear, Neddy.”

“No,” I said sharply. “You cannot.”

“You won't change my mind,” she said. “Perhaps it was always my destiny.” She pointed to the topmost piece of torn cloak that I carried. It was the section with the design of the white bear.

I stared at the white shape. “You must not go,” I said. “Father will not allow it,” I added somewhat lamely.

“He cannot stop me.”

“Please do not set your mind on it, Rose. Not yet. Maybe Sara will be better in the morning.”

Rose was silent, then nodded. “I will think on it. But in exchange you must promise me, Neddy, that you will not tell Father that I have learned the truth. Nor tell him that I am thinking of going with the white bear.”

Clutching at these small shreds of hope, I agreed.

When we returned it was almost suppertime and everyone was busy. No one noticed that Rose wore my coat and that I carried the four pieces of her cloak. Silently I offered Rose the pile of fabric, but she shook her head and, handing me my coat, went to help with the meal. Not certain what else to do, I stuffed the pieces into my coat pockets.

That evening Father broke his silence about the white bear.

“Tomorrow we will do as we always do,” he said, “but in the evening only I will stay to give the bear his answer. The rest of you will go to neighbour Torsk's farmhold. We will think of some reason to tell Torsk, perhaps repair work that I must do on my own, work that would disturb Sara. And you will all stay with Torsk until I come for you.”

Several voices spoke at once, objecting to this plan. Mother felt strongly that both she and Rose should be with Father when the bear came. And Willem and I both insisted that
we
should be there, in case the animal should attack.

Then Rose spoke out, her voice quiet and firm. “I must stay with you, Father.”

“No,” Father said, his own voice just as firm. “I will not allow it.”

“The white bear may require an answer from me.”

“She is right, Arne,” Mother put in.

“No,” he said again.

Rose took a breath, spots of colour in her cheeks. “If I am not here when the white bear comes,” she said calmly, “is it not possible that he may come to neighbour Torsk's, putting him in danger as well?”

Father shook his head, but I could see doubt come into his eyes. There was silence for a few moments and then finally he said, “Very well. You may stay.”

“Let me stay, too, Father,” I said quickly.

He nodded curtly. I wondered if he, too, feared what Rose might do and wanted two of us there to stop her should the worst occur.

“You must arm yourselves, at least,” my brother Willem said.

Father nodded agreement. “Although, in truth, I do not believe the bear will harm us,” he said. “Nor do I think he would take Rose by force. If that were his aim he would have done it when first he came.”

I had been watching Rose closely, especially when she told Father that she must stay with him, to give the bear her answer. I had never known Rose to lie, especially to Father. It kindled in me the hope that she
had
reconsidered and would not go with the white bear. But then I remembered the lie Father told Rose, and her anger, and I was no longer sure of anything.

When mapmakers of old were faced with charting an unknown area, one that had proved unreachable, the temptation was to fabricate, to look into the imagination. They would depict the area as being inhabited by fearsome, man-devouring monsters, especially in the vast reaches of the sea. Master Esbjorn found the practice antiquated and unacceptable. He believed that if the truth was not known, the paper should be left blank.

I was like a long-ago mapmaker. When faced with uncharted territory – a talking beast in my home – I saw evil. And when my wife spoke of giving in to the request of an evil creature, I saw evil in her, too. To willingly sacrifice one daughter for another was an abomination. For the first time in our married life, I began to doubt my Eugenia.

We borrowed a small cart from Torsk to transport Sara. We told him that I needed to make repairs on the chimney before the landlord came to take over his property. It would be a sooty, messy job, and it would be safest to have at least part of the family move to Torsk's farmhold sooner rather than later. He was willing and so we bundled Sara into the cart. Fortunately, it was a fair day, though cold, and she was no worse for the trip.

Rose, Neddy, and I made our way back to the farm in silence. Eugenia had left a pot of soup on the hearth for us, along with a small loaf of brown bread. Rose deliberately laid out a tablecloth, one she had made herself, and Neddy set the table.

We ate the modest meal in silence. The minutes ticked by.

After we had finished eating, and had washed and put away the dishes, Rose took up some sewing while Neddy read. I aimlessly poked the fire, then sat down to look over our accounts, though my mind was not on my task.

It grew late – later, I thought, than when the white bear had come before. Hope began to flicker in me that he would not come after all. Perhaps a hunter had felled him. Or perhaps he had changed his mind. I was about to break the silence in the room to give voice to these thoughts, when there came a noise from the door.

This time no one opened the door. It swung open on its own. And standing there, the moon shining bright behind her, was Eugenia.

I let out a deep breath, then crossed to her.

“What are you doing here, wife?” I said, my voice ragged. “Is it Sara…?”

She stared at me, then shook her head sharply in the negative. She sidestepped away and went to Rose. “Daughter,” she said, “I do not want to lose you. I have always tried to keep you close. But you must go with the white bear.”

“Eugenia!” I shouted.

“You will use all your wits and your east practicality. And you will not be lost to us, not for ever. I know it.” She took Rose's hand as she spoke.

Rose was pale. She stood. Then she deliberately removed her hand from Eugenia's and stepped away from her.

“‘East'?” Rose whispered. “‘East'…” she said again, louder, shaking her head. “No, not ‘east', Mother.
North.
” And her last word filled the room.

Then the white bear was at the door. And before any of us could move, Rose had crossed to him. She reached behind a large wooden trunk that stood by the door and drew out a small knapsack. She must have hidden it there earlier.

“I will go with you,” Rose said to the bear, and I watched, unbelieving, as the animal's great paws flashed and Rose was suddenly astride the bear's back as if he were some enormous horse.

The white bear turned and disappeared through the doorway.

Neddy let out a cry and ran after them, grabbing his coat as he went.

I started after them as well, but Eugenia blocked my way.

“She must go. It is her direction. Her choice.”

I looked back at Eugenia. Then looked from her to the empty doorway. I had lost everything I held dear. And there would be no reclaiming it.

I could see a blur of white ahead of me.

“Rose!” I shouted. “Wait! Rose…” I kept calling as I ran, till my throat ached. But somehow I kept the white blur in sight and they must have slowed, for I began to gain on them.

Then I realized the bear had stopped altogether.

The moon was very bright and I could see them clearly. Rose in a blue dress, sitting perched on the back of the massive beast. She looked unsure of herself, as though she wanted to find a way down but couldn't. It wouldn't be like dismounting from a horse. The bear abruptly kneeled and Rose managed to awkwardly slide off.

Rose tentatively moved towards me, looking over her shoulder several times. “I chose, Neddy,” she said. “It is the right thing to do.”

I wanted to grab her, to carry her back home to safety, but all I did was nod silently. I said, “Here,” and held out the four pieces of her cloak. “I pinned it together. You can sew it whole later. Truth or lie, it may be cold where you journey.”

She took the ragged cloak from me and fastened it around her shoulders. “Thank you, Neddy.”

“One thing more,” I said. And quickly I blurted out the tale of the white bear's rescuing her from the gorge when she was little. “If he did that,” I ended lamely, “then surely he can mean you no ill.” I believe I spoke these words as much to reassure myself as I did to reassure her.

She leaned over and hugged me. We held each other for a long moment. Then she broke away and lightly crossed to the white bear.

I watched as he once again lifted her to his back.

And they were gone.