Chapter Two: Not Worth the Gratitude

I never knew that we lived in such a wonderful world. Everything feels so new, so wonderful that I can hardly bear it any longer, and yet I don’t ever want it to stop. This feeling…it’s almost as if I’ve been reborn!

After leaving the city where I’ve lived all my life, we decided, upon coming to a fork in the road, to take the path which seemed to be used less often, and it wasn’t long before we discovered why. The path led directly into a large piece of land submerged under water. It wasn’t anything like a marsh or a swamp, but rather like an immense pond of clear water, with the most amazing plants growing from within it or floating on its surface. As we waded through the knee-deep water, our wet skirts began to drag us down, so we undid our dresses and walked on in our undergarments. It didn’t bother us one bit, because it was such a peaceful place that we never once dreamed of anyone else coming through. The ground at our feet was nothing like what we would have expected…it was firm, unlike the sandy banks of the murky pond in the city where we had been sent to collect herbs. There was not a single bird in sight, and only a gentle breeze blew, just enough to ruffle the waters. We could have spent days in that place, soaking in the cool water. Even the sun didn’t dare to shine too brightly there, and clouds filled the sky. When we finally reached a raised bank we were reluctant to leave, so we spread our dresses out on the ground and lay there until we both fell asleep. I have promised myself that I will come back to this place one day, as this was the only consolation I could offer as I forced myself to turn and walk away from that beautiful lake without looking back.

---

“Lise…this town is so-”

“Busy, isn’t it?”

They stood by the entrance of a town, huddled in a corner to avoid interrupting the busy flow of traffic. Everyone else walked with a purpose, with long, quick strides, shoulders drawn back and head held high, as if they were preparing for a battle against the entire world. The air was saturated with strange smells, some sweet and enticing, some mysterious and spicy and others, well, not so enticing. As Anne-Lise and Catherine made their way tentatively through the pressing crowd, they both noticed a smell which grew stronger and eventually engulfed the other smells. It was fresh and salty, something that neither of them had ever come across before, and they felt themselves being drawn to its source. As they wandered away from the noise and hustle, they suddenly found themselves staring at the largest body of water they had ever seen. It was nothing at all like the lake which they had passed through before…for unlike the stillness of the lake this felt much rougher in comparison, the crashing waves and screaming sea-fowls, craggy rocks and drifting foam.

“It’s-…it’s the sea, isn’t it, Lise?” asked Catherine with a timid voice.

“Yes it is, Cath,” replied Anne-Lise absently.

“Aren’t you afraid? It’s so wide and far-”

“Yes…it is.” Anne-Lise’s voice grew distant, and her eyes glassed over with an unreadable emotion. “And when I look at the horizon I feel as if there is nothing there but air and water.”

Catherine shivered. It was as if the Lise who was standing next to her was a stranger, not the same person who had been by her side all her life.

Anne-Lise broke away form her reverie suddenly as she felt Catherine’s cold grasp on her arm. “Cath? Cath?! Are you alright?”

Catherine managed a weak nod before crumpling into a heap on the ground. Anne-Lise felt the blood drain from her face. She kneeled down to take hold of her friend but found, to her utter dismay, that she had no strength left in her own body. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and her chest throbbed. It was at that moment of great despair that she first met him, the person who was to change the rest of her life.

---

“Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten anything for almost a week?!”

Anne-Lise nodded miserably. “Will she be alright?” she asked, in a voice barely more than a whisper.

“Ack, I don’t know. I’m no doctor, that much is for sure.”

His blunt reply made Anne-Lise feel worse. They had never needed to eat anything before, and it hadn’t occurred to either of them that they would need to start. The tears that had been welling up inside of her threatened to spill out, and would have in a moment, if he hadn’t made her start suddenly by leaning close to peer into her face.

“Are you still looking like that after I’ve gone through all the trouble of trying to make you feel comfortable?”

His affected look only served to make her feel irritated. “I don’t believe you’ve tried at all,” she said indignantly. He only laughed at her remark and handed her a bowl. “Is that so? Careful now, don’t spill it. The sea has been more unpredictable in these past few days than it has been in the past ten years.”

Anne-Lise nodded. The bowl seemed to hold a kind of thick soup which looked and smelled undesirable. ‘The taste isn’t so bad,’ she thought, ‘but I’ve never tasted anything else before, and so I make a poor judge.’ The room rocked steadily along with the sea’s rhythm, only breaking out of pace every once in a while. Even though the ship’s movement was neither violent nor erratic, Anne-Lise still found it difficult to make her way across the room without stumbling. She had watched in amazement as her benefactor brought Catherine to a bed at the far end of the room without even the slightest hesitation. Even now she watched his movements carefully, for he was steady on his feet and firm in his steps. If that was not reason enough to follow him with her eyes, then perhaps it was because of his tanned complexion or unusual sense of dress. His hair was somewhere between long and short, pulled back from his face in a half-hearted ponytail with many strands of hair straggling in between, and as for his clothes, they looked to be chosen more for comfort and practicality than for anything else, and were marred by countless stains and tears. Even his name was something which summoned curiosity.

“Claire…”

“What is it?”

“Um, no, it’s nothing.”

He turned towards her with annoyance. “You shouldn’t go about calling me for no reason, as if my name is cheap.”

Anne-Lise shook her head vehemently. “No! No, I wasn’t doing that!”

“Well, then, what is it?”

She paused momentarily before answering. “Your name is…somewhat feminine, isn’t it?”

“It is? I’ve never noticed. And if it was, then there is no problem, is there?”

Anne-Lise swallowed nervously. He didn’t sound angry, but she knew that she had just treaded on dangerous waters. Claire continued his work unperturbed, stopping only once to reach for something in the shelf overhead. For some reason Anne-Lise felt her own fear ebb away. While his apparent nonchalance at Catherine’s condition should have caused her to worry even more, the lack of tension made her relaxed instead, and it was probably because of this that it took her a while to notice a particularly foul smell in the air.

“What is that?” she asked, covering her nose with her hand.

“Awful, isn’t it?” replied Claire cheerfully. “I made it myself.”

‘Is that really something to be glad about?’ wondered Anne-Lise. He lowered the bowl containing the offending concoction before Catherine and she woke up, coughing violently.

“Works every time!” he remarked proudly, as he tossed both the bowl and its contents out the nearest opening. Anne-Lise heard a faint splash and a muffled commotion, but decided to ignore it in favor of her friend. “Cath! How are you feeling?”

Claire put out a hand to silence her and handed Catherine a bowl of soup. “Eat first. You can talk later.” Catherine nodded in bewilderment, but readily complied.

Anne-Lise watched eagerly as the color returned to Catherine’s pale cheeks. A sound from above called Claire to the deck, leaving them alone. Stumbling over to Catherine’s side, Anne-Lise spoke first in a voice laced with concern. “Are you alright?”

Catherine nodded. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry…”

“No, it’s fine,” replied Anne-Lise, with a relieved smile on her face. “I don’t mind it, since nothing serious happened to you.”

“Who was that?” asked Catherine, as she tipped her bowl to get at the last few drops of soup.

“He was the one who brought you here. This ship belongs to him, I think, and his name is Claire.”

“Claire? But isn’t that-?”

“It’s better not to mention it.”

Catherine only raised an eyebrow in reply to Anne-Lise’s abrupt reaction and said nothing more. Anne-Lise reached out to take Catherine’s hand between her own. It was still cold, so she rubbed it gently. “If you’re done, we should be leaving soon. We shouldn’t impose upon Claire any more than we need to.”

“You’re right. I feel better now, so let’s go and thank him.”

They stood up and straightened the covers on the bed. As they made their way to the ladder leading to the deck, Anne-Lise couldn’t help but notice that the room was absolutely filthy. ‘How can he live here?’ she wondered, shuddering at the very thought. The ladder itself was rickety, perched precariously against a ledge and nailed to the floor. Neither of them wanted to be the first to attempt passage up the ladder, and they hesitated at its base, undecided. Just as they had reached a decision, the hatch above opened and Claire leaned through to face them.

“You’ve gotten yourselves into a pretty little situation. I’ve never been in a spot of trouble with the authorities up till now. Those were the king’s men, and they demand to know if I’m hiding any fugitives.”

Anne-Lise paled and her grip on Catherine’s hand tightened. Her eyes began searching desperately for an opening, anything large enough for them to bolt through, but her search was in vain. The only way out was through the hatch above. ‘This is not good,’ thought Anne-Lise miserably. If things had been bad before they left, they would be unbearable after they returned. The only thing which gave her comfort was the fact that Catherine would not have to suffer for long, since she had been scheduled to leave on the day of their departure and would most likely be taken directly to the place prepared for her. ‘I’ll have to bear it alone then,’ she thought, her face hardening with determination.

Claire studied her grim face unblinkingly for a few moments before disappearing through the hatch again, leaving Anne-Lise and Catherine below, trembling with trepidation. They strained their ears to hear the voices above, but heard nothing except the sound of the waves. Catherine pulled Anne-Lise close and cupped her hand over her ear. “Lise, you should run now while they’re busy. I’ll stay here, and hopefully they’ll be satisfied with just me. You don’t have to worry about me,” she said, placing a finger over Anne-Lise’s lips to stop her from interrupting, “because they won’t have a chance to punish me.” Her eye filled with tears and her voice cracked, hampering her efforts to speak quickly. “You’ve always taken care of me, so now it’s my turn to help you out. Go now while you still have the time!”

Anne-Lise shook her head violently. “How could I do that? It’s no use running away alone because…because…” she bit her lip and turned away. “Because I don’t want to.” Catherine looked at her pleadingly. “But you can’t go back! You have to do this, Lise, it’s for the best!”

“What is?”

They turned fearfully in the direction of Claire’s voice. He was descending from the hatch calmly, ignoring the dangerous-sounding creaks from the ladder. When he reached the bottom, he turned to face them and surveyed them with a patronizing air. “I’ve been kind enough to tell the king’s men that you aren’t well enough to make the journey back today, so they’ve given you permission to stay here for a night. Tomorrow you will both depart to your respective homes and I shall leave this port as planned.”

He waved carelessly with a condescending smile. “No need to thank me. It is a gentleman’s duty to ensure that the ladies aren’t ill-treated.” While Anne-Lise would normally have given him a biting reply, she was too overcome with relief to say anything more than a muffled “Thank you.” Her relief was short-lived, as Claire responded to her brief display of gratitude with a stern warning. “Neither of you are to step off this ship anytime before their arrival tomorrow without my permission. If you disobey me, I will not hesitate to chuck you off the deck. I presume you can’t swim?” When they shook their heads mutely, he nodded. “Right. Then you had better do as I say. For starters,” he glanced around him meaningfully, “why don’t you do a bit of cleaning up? This place has gotten a bit dusty, but it’s nothing that you can’t handle. I’ll be heading to town for a while, so make sure it’s done before I get back.” With another wave he was off, up the ladder and through the hatch, leaving behind a fuming Anne-Lise and a dumbfounded Catherine.

“Why…why that…” Anne-Lise leapt up angrily. “He’s just using us! How can you call yourself a gentleman?!” she said, shouting the last part in hope that he would hear. Catherine tugged at her sleeve, “Calm down, Anne-Lise.” “How can I?!” hissed Anne-Lise through clenched teeth, “when I know that he just wants to keep us for a day to do his chores?”

“He…he did help us,” said Catherine hesitantly. “I don’t feel that he’s a bad person, and he did take care of me when I fainted.” Anne-Lise folded her arms tightly across her chest. “I’m not so sure if that was a good thing or not, now. He probably had already thought of using us from that time.” She hardened her heart against him firmly, for in spite of her anger she couldn’t help but agree with Catherine. “Argh!” she muttered, grabbing a grimy pail from the corner. “I’ll go and get some water, and you should look around for some rags we can use,” she said, cowering inwardly at the ladder’s protests to her weight.

Her anger slowly diminished as she and Catherine set out to accomplish their task. It was by no means an easy job as dust lay thick on every surface and the floor was strangely sticky. In places where the dust had been dampened there was a layer of grime, and its removal required vigorous scrubbing. Again and again Anne-Lise wondered in amazement at the fact that Claire actually inhabited such a disgustingly filthy place. ‘He’s like an animal, with complete disregard for cleanliness,’ she thought, as she headed out for yet another pail of water, the seventh in that hour alone.

She dumped the blackened contents of her bucket into the clear blue waters of the sea somewhat guiltily, reluctant to mar its beauty with Claire’s accumulated dirt. ‘It’s his fault, so if anyone dares to complain they can deface this ship for all I care.’ She filled the bucket and hauled it down, pausing to smile at Catherine who was waiting for her at the foot of the ladder. “It must be hard work,” said Catherine, as she dipped her cloth into the cool water, “so I’ll go up the next time.” Anne-Lise shook her head. “No, I can handle it. You shouldn’t work so hard after having collapsed this morning.” “I’ve completely recovered,” replied Catherine with a laugh, “after Claire’s treatment!”

By the time they were done, the sun had already begun its descent, and the shadows around them lengthened. The room was by no means spotless, but they had tried their best and it was much better than it had been before. ‘It could be considered ‘clean’,’ thought Anne-Lise, as she surveyed the room through narrowed eyelids. Her shoulders ached and her hands were wrinkled and blistered, but the sight of the room made her feel pleasant. It was the first time she had done something for someone outside of the ‘home’ they had left. That in itself was enough to cheer her up, though she still felt uneasy about the revelation of Claire’s true intentions. She sighed and reached for the lantern that hung from a hook on the ceiling. Catherine had rubbed it clean earlier, exposing several patches of rust on its bronze-colored sides. A box of matches sat on the table nearby, and Anne-Lise picked it up, shaking it to see if it was empty.

“Trying to burn this place down?”

Anne-Lise ignored Claire’s comment, and proceeded to light the lamp. It emitted a warm glow which was pleasing to the eye, in spite of its constant sputtering. “Welcome back, Claire,” said Catherine, looking up from her place on the bed.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, in a gentler tone than the one he had used to address Anne-Lise. Catherine nodded. “Only a little tired, but other than that, I’m fine.” Claire smiled. “That’s good to hear. As for you,” he said, prodding Anne-Lise with the end of a carrot, “you’re Lise, I believe? You can cook, can’t you?” Anne-Lise scowled. “How am I supposed to be able to cook if I’ve only eaten once in my life?” Claire merely grinned and replied, “I suppose that’s a no.”

Anne-Lise’s scowl deepened and she took the carrot which he held out to her expectantly. “If you can’t cook, then I’ll just have to teach you.” His overly cheerful tone was beginning to grate on her nerves, but the sight of Catherine sitting contentedly on the bed made her submit more readily than she was willing to. “My name is Anne-Lise,” she said under her breath, as she sliced the carrot as per Claire’s instructions. “Is that so?” said Claire, appearing so suddenly at her side that she almost cut herself. “And how would you spell that?” Anne-Lise did not reply. She had never been taught to write or read, though she had badly wanted to. ‘Trust him to approach this topic,’ she thought, her hands moving clumsily in comparison to Claire’s expert example.

As she transferred the chopped carrot into an empty pot, a piece fell to the floor and rolled into a corner. Anne-Lise gulped and turned away hurriedly in an attempt to ignore the matter. That corner had been the dirtiest of the lot, and she had no desire to eat anything which had fallen near it. “Are you wasting food now?” Anne-Lise froze at the sound of Claire’s voice, and her face blanched as he picked up the offending piece of carrot and tossed it into the pot.

“Surely you aren’t going to eat that,” she stammered, as he handed her several onions to cut. “Of course I am, or perhaps you will,” he said coolly. “Come, Cath, which I am quite sure sure stands for Catherine. We’ll head up to light a fire. It’s such a delightful night that it would be a waste to spend it down here.” He filled the pot with some water from a barrel and headed up to the deck. Catherine cast an apprehensive look at the ladder, but was quickly relieved of her fears when Claire leaned back down and reached out to take hold of her. “Hold on tight and I’ll lift you up.”

The atmosphere felt rather desolate without the both of them. Anne-Lise could hear Catherine’s merry laughter through the open hatch and was compelled to smile through her stinging tears. It was good to know that Catherine was feeling better, because she had seemed unlike her usual self over their journey. Anne-Lise had begun to wonder if their departure was something that she had selfishly brought about, and if she had dragged Catherine along simply because she was too afraid to leave on her own.

“Are the onions too much for you, then?” asked Claire as he came down again and caught her turning away to rub her eyes on her sleeve. Anne-Lise shook her head in stubborn denial and fought on, determined to cut the onions even if they made her blind. Claire watched her silently for a while. There was a hint of emotion on his face, but it quickly faded as he removed the knife from her grasp. “I can do it,” protested Anne-Lise, trying to reclaim the knife that he easily held out of her reach.

He laughed (‘At my helplessness,’ thought Anne-Lise) and pointed towards the deck. “Go up and watch the fire. I don’t think Catherine can keep it going for long, so you can relieve her of her duty.” Anne-Lise frowned. “She’s perfectly capable of doing it. We both did it back when we were at the-” Stopping mid-sentence, she looked away angrily, upset at the fact that he had doubted Catherine’s ability and at the realization that she would soon be returning to the place that she had worked so hard to escape from. Her shoulders sagged at the latter thought and she made her way to the deck without another word.

Claire stared at the hatch long after she had left through it with an unreadable expression. A long string of complicated thoughts occupied his mind, coming and going at such a rate that he only processed a fraction of each. It didn't seem to matter to him at all, for when he finally resumed cutting the onions he had an amused smile on his face, as if he had come to an interesting conclusion.