THE DAUGHTER OF OARWELL (Chapter 2)

CHAPTER II

The town of Yokefield, located south of Eathercrest, was a large tract of farmlands where wheat, corn and some other grains were grown. It was connected from the city of Eathercrest by a dusty road that cut straight across a forested tract of land. Rich households who had traces of nobility in their bloods owned the farmlands that composed most parts of the town. Tall trees, pines, oaks and beeches, stood round the edges of those lands, serving as boundaries for the farm and as a veil for the mansions of the farm owners which are made of layered bricks and dressed stones.

At the eastern portion of the town, cut by the shallow creek, was a small village where the peasants lived. Wooden dwellings with dried grass roofs stood in clusters by a leveled road that ran along the edges of the farmlands. Near the bridge that was made of large branches of felled pine trees, where the creek and the road met, there stood the house where Oarwell and his daughters lived.

Shim, the younger of the two daughters of Oarwell, grew with an abiding fascination for knowledge. Wisdom, she learned, is within the mortal's soul and grows as mortals grow. It is likened to a piece of gold, purified by life's tribulations and pain. Her understanding was enriched under the guidance of her father, a smith who, with his meager earnings of traded wares, never failed to save for trade of manuscripts from travelers and merchants. At night, Shim and her sister Leah would listen to their father as he read to them tales and accounts from the manuscripts he had acquired. Their souls were nourished through the instructions of their father, taking heed to his exhortations and reproofs.

Shim was as old as nine harvests when their mother died of an incurable illness. Throughout the season of rains, she and her sister were not allowed to go near their mother who never left her bedchamber. From their mother, they heard nothing but troubling roars of sudden coughing which sounded more frequently as days passed. Before the rainy season ended, their mother died. Leah, being older of five harvests, took concern of the chores and of Shim. With such heavy load upon her tender shoulder, her devotion to learning faded.

The daughters of Oarwell, as they grew, learned the works of peasants. When it was time to sow, they dropped seeds across the fields; and when harvests came, they tore corn ears and sorted grains of wheat. They worked until the twilight broke and were recompensed for every labor they performed: a basketful of grains for a day's work. Between the days of sowing and those of harvest, where not much work was needed in the fields, the two girls would gather hollow stalks of grain and weave them into vessels fit to contain sifted sorts of grains. It was a craft that was taught to them by their mother when she was yet alive and well.

Harvests were joyous times for Shim as well as for most of the villagers. Although much work was to be done in the fields, there were also in the fields singing and merry-making where everyone showed little weariness and much good cheer. The farm owners, seeing the bountiful harvests from their crops, were often moved with benevolence, giving the farm workers a double portion of their rightful wages. Some owners would even allow their workers to glean the stalks of grains that were left uncollected in the fields.

One harvest afternoon, while Leah and Shim was walking on their way home after a tiring day of winnowing; a stranger came to them on a horse. Drawn by the comeliness of Leah - for she had grown full and healthy - the stranger grabbed her with his left arm and vanished behind the thick cloud of dusts which followed the gallops of his horse. Shim, terrified by what just happened, ran home wailing and sought for her father. Between sobs and gasps, she told her father, who was in his workplace pounding on a piece of iron, the ill fate that befell Leah.

Oarwell was shaken with anger by what Shim had narrated. With urgency, he left his unfinished work and set himself for the search of Leah. After giving his charges to Shim, Oarwell, along with his two friends, left on their horses, rushing on the same route where the stranger headed.

Leah, as she was being held by the stranger on a horse, pleaded earnestly to the man, that he may set her free and let her go back to Yokefield where she lived. However, the stranger was unmoved and held Leah even more tightly as the horse that they were on went on striding speedily. Unknown to the stranger, while Leah was sounding her plea, she was at the same time unsheathing a palm-and-a-half long sharply pointed dagger which was unnoticeably tied on her right thigh, and then, with all of her strength, struck the stranger with it on his neck. The stranger was stunned and lost his grasp on Leah. Leah fell from the horse and on to the grassy trail. After a short while, as she was pulling her self to rise from her fall, she saw the stranger fell from the horse likewise, lifeless.

Withstanding the pain that was caused by her falling from the horse, she ran and ran, following the trail back. When she was wearied and slowed down, however, the thought of her killing a man overtook her. She began to notice the warm blood of the stranger that was splashed on her hand and on her light-yellow cotton dress. What she beheld grieved her so severely and caused even her soul to part. Under an oak tree she sat motionless, wearing a dreamy countenance. The sun was setting then.

Oarwell and his two friends spent a good number of days searching in places where they believed Leah might be brought, but they neither saw nor heard anything concerning Leah. In the middle of the rainy season, brought about by weariness and compounded by his despair over the loss of Leah, Oarwell became ill. Believing that Oarwell was no longer fit for more travels, his friends decided to end the search and to bring Oarwell back home so that he may be given treatment.

When they arrived at their village in Yokefield, all of the villagers heard of the unfruitful search for Leah and the villagers were saddened. Showing kindness and compassion, some gave aid to the healing of Oarwell and others burnt fragrant oil to the Good Spirit so that He may look after Leah wherever she may be brought.

With the knowledge of the failed search for Leah, Shim sorrowfully yielded to the verity of Leah being gone for good. Sitting by the window and staring at the greenness of the farmlands which was darkened in hue by the waning shine of the setting sun, she pondered about the life that might become for Leah. She was immersed in fear and her heart was filled with anger. She began to dread the days that lay before her. Inevitably, she realized, she, too, would soon be entering her womanhood. She counted the knots on the string that was tied on her waist. There were fourteen.

Meanwhile, as Leah sat under the oak tree alone and undiscerning, two handmaids from the city of Eathercrest saw her. They were on their way to Littlegrove; a small village, located southeast of the city, where handmaids who came to their old age but were endeared to the royal household were sent to retire. The two were on a four-wheeled carriage drawn by a horse. Not wanting that their journey would extend deep into the night, they decided to cut across the woods by the narrow trail, passing by the tree under which Leah sat.

"Is that a woman I see?" one of the handmaids declared with surprise.

"Indeed ... a young woman," the other seconded as she pulled back the reins to cause the horse to stop, "come and let us see her trouble."

The first handmaid took hold of the lamp and rushed onto where Leah was sitting. Darkness had crept in then. The second followed. Thereupon, they talked to Leah and asked what brought her in the midst of the woods with the bloodied hands. When Leah gave no reply to their inquiries, they concluded that her soul had parted from her.

"Poor child ..." one sighed, "let us take her with us and away from this desolate place."

The other nodded approvingly. "Let us attend to this young woman, I suggest ... that we may make use of what remained of our usefulness," she spoke with enthusiasm.

Seasons passed. The sun did rise and set and rise again until the clouds came to pour out rains. One cold night, near the end of the rainy season, there came unto the house of Oarwell men who sought for refuge. Awoken by the voices that were calling from outside the house, he opened the front door and, aided by the pale moonlight, saw two men standing by their horses with their hands holding on the reins. He saw three horses. As they drew nearer, another man came into his sight through the darkness of the night. The third man was on the third horse, his body was drooped forward and his shoulder rested against the neck of the horse. He was wounded.

Oarwell, having a gracious heart, greeted them in and attended to the wounded man. Shim, bade by her father and served food to the others, giving them a serving of porridge and animal broth. She heard as the men conversed with her father that they were swordsmen of the crown. Earlier that day, as they were marching towards the east border to fight against the strong band of bandits, their contingent was attacked treacherously by a good number of bandits who lay in wait for them behind the boulders of rocks that stood by the road whereon they were passing. It was the reason why their friend was wounded.

At the break of day, leaving their friend to the charge of Oarwell, the two swordsmen left to join anew the campaign against the bandits.

Shim, knowing that the two swordsmen had left, entered in the chamber where the wounded man was. She saw the man lying on a wooden bed, asleep. A clean white cotton cloth was wrapped about his loin and there was a mark of blood, spot-like, on his side. She drew near and stared at the face of the man. His face was restful; it was neatly shaven. His deep eye-sockets and his angled nose bridge complemented his prominent cheekbone to form semblance to a hawk. His dark-brown hair covered his ears, showing only the lobes.

Driven by the indiscriminate anger against strangers which she had kept within her self for a long time, Shim laid her hand on the man's brow and through the air she whispered, "May your greatest shame be caused by a woman."

Then she moved back and waited. She wanted to know whether the man was awoken and heard the curse which she had spoken. Slowly, the man began to move his head sideways and softly he groaned. Then she was alarmed. His groaning sounded more loudly as the movements of his head became intense and violent. Promptly, she ran out of the bedchamber and called out for her father. From his workplace, her father rushed into the house to see what troubled the man. Bothered deeply, Shim waited for her father in the dining chamber, sitting on a wooden stool by the four-sided dining table. Her heart was pounding fast and strong, seemingly wanting to break loose.

After a while, her father emerged from the chamber where the wounded man was.

"What troubled the man father?" she asked, forcing an impassive tone to conceal her anxiety. She feared the likelihood of her father acquiring knowledge of the ill fate which she had spoken against the man.

"Nothing's so bad," her father answered, then made his way out to resume his work. "He just had a bad dream."

"Just a bad dream!" she exhaled with a sigh of relief.

It wasn't very long when the man regained his strength. His wound had dried and the pain was out of trace. The finely crushed select herbs had been effectual in healing his deep wound. Through out the remaining days of the rainy season he waited for his friends who assured him that they would be back for him after their campaign against the bandits was won.

At the start of the warm season, his friends surely came back from the east border and gladly announced their victory over the bandits. With a little boasting, the two swordsmen narrated how they fought the bandits with relative ease and how they evaded the blows that were thrown to hurt them.

Thereafter, they inquired about the wounded man's strength, remembering that they were charged to fetch their wounded friend and then bring him to the city of Eathercrest. When they were convinced that he was already fit to travel, the swordsmen agreed to leave.

At sunrise the next day, as he and his friends prepared to leave, the wounded man gave a solemn utterance of gratitude and left an oath to Oarwell saying: "I shall repay your kindness in due time."

The three swordsmen then left for the city of Eathercrest.

More seasons came and gone: sunshine and rains. Shim was then ushered into womanhood. In the beginning of the warm season, during the sowing of grains, she tied the eighteenth knot on the string that numbered her age. She had grown into a clever young woman. Her skin was sun-tanned yet unflawed. Her hair was shiny black, often tied back from her face with a string. Her nose sloped with proportion like a work of a skillful whittler. Her lips were thin and her tongue was wily. The stares of her brown eyes hinted the deepness of her thoughts and her wisdom added grace in her ways.

Drawn by the fetching look of Shim, the men in the village earnestly tried to win her affection, promising her a wondrous life amidst the plain farmlands that surrounded them. But Shim was unmoved and firmly turned all of them down for she dreamt of a life much more than their obscure village had to offer. Her learning had revealed to her an entirely different world, a world of endless discoveries and adventure.

"From where do all these manuscripts of learning come?" she once asked her father after he had read to her the manuscript he had just acquired.

"Much of these come from the island of Mileas," her father replied, "a faraway land much more glorious than the city of Eathercrest with all its craftily built edifices, its refined ways of living, and its eminent authorities of learning."

With her youthful eyes widely opened to fully imagine the grandeur of Mileas as recounted by her father, she, in her heart, deeply wished that she could someday sail to the island and behold its glory.

As she headed farther onto womanhood, her grief for her sister somewhat faded but her anger remained.

One peaceful night, in the middle of a warm season, a vision came to Oarwell in a dream. In his dream, he saw the ghost of King Rockmorrow, a ruler of Eatherland of several generations past, heartless and mean, leading the Eathens into utmost despair. Vividly, Oarwell saw in his vision King Rockmorrow's ghost, floating and glowing like a flame in the midst of utter darkness, with its face showing a look of incomprehensible anguish. The dream stirred Oarwell's soul and kept him awake for the rest of the night.

The following morning, desiring to be enlightened respecting the vision in his dream, he traveled on a horse to Eathercrest to consult the wise men of the city. In the city, however, when he spoke of the dream that had visited him, the people were outraged. They were offended by the ghastliness of what he had narrated and insisted that it was of his own filthy conception. They brought him forcibly before the throne and asked the King to pronounce judgment upon him, saying:
"O wise King of Eatherland, we bring before you this old man – Oarwell he says he is – who has committed so grave mockery unto the bloodline of royalty...." Beneath the brick-layered roof that extended from above the huge outermost door of the palace and supported by three pairs of stone pillars, some elder men of the city commonly sat to hear and decide petty disputes among the Eathens and some minor breaches of the statutes. But the gravity of Oarwell's offense - the crowd had resolved - required nothing less than the verdict of the King.

Bruised and utterly shaken, Oarwell recounted his dream before the King. His low and rasping voice described the vision in his dream as his olden and sorrowful eyes implored the mercy of the King. He spoke of the utter darkness, of King Rockmorrow's ghost glowing and floating like a flame, and of the incomprehensible anguish on his face.

When the King heard what the dream was, he was wroth sorely. It was, for him, a grave insolence upon his forefather and entirely unpardonable. With his fuming anger, he was moved to lay his judgment forthwith, saying: "How could you have a soul so insolent ... by your offense, I pronounce your death by hanging."

Oarwell was stunned in disbelief. He never did foresee that his inquiry would lead him into such misfortune. All that he came to the city for was just to learn of his dream's acceptation, yet what he was shown was his nightmarish death and condemnation. Cast down and dejected, with his hand tied behind him, he thoughtlessly followed the palace guards as they marched him out of the city and into Boneshaven, a dry and sandy tract of land north of the city and near the foot of the rocky mountain where the breakers of the law were brought to die.

The crowd, after hearing the King's pronouncements, excitedly shouted with approval. Oarwell's offense was, to them, so grave that must rightfully cost him his life. Aware yet embarrassed to admit, their inability to give meaning to his vision added flame to their outrage. Re-sounding his condemnation, they followed after him out to Boneshaven.

As decreed by the King, Oarwell was hung by the neck on a high pole which had a crossed bar at its upper end. The guards covered his head with a piece of sackcloth, led him up the pole through a ladder, and tied a rope around his neck and to the pole. Thereafter, one of the palace guards threw Oarwell's feet off the ladder and the crowd looked up as Oarwell struggled to his last breath. After seeing that he was dead, the crowd then left Oarwell up the high pole to let his bone yield and fall to the ground. Offenders were not given decent burial in Eatherland.

It was midnight when Shim learned of her father's death. She was awoken by a fellow villager and was told of the execution. She broke in tears but her sorrow was, soon after, overtaken by anger. Through the darkness of the moonless night, she pronounced woes unto the city ... and unto the King.

The following day, there came a man who sought for her. A eunuch sent from the palace with the King's summons for her to serve the royal household; but she loathed the King, she refused.