Roy looked up, but he didn't look at Charlinder, he just sort of gazed off into the distance. "Talent," he said at last.
Chapter Eight
Too Late
While he wouldn’t admit such a thing to his uncle, Charlinder found it a relief to know he would be home for several more months. Waiting until January meant he could take longer to prepare his supplies, find a replacement for himself at the school, and say goodbye to his friends. Without the pressure of a summer departure, he thought about how much he would need to take with him for his journey instead of indulging his earlier tendency to see how much he could get together in the little time he had. Regardless of the advantages of his new schedule, however, there was still the matter of arguing his case.
Miriam came to the school on the day following Charlinder's discussion with Roy and asked him to come with her to Spinners' Square. While he was still unprepared to face her since their argument, he knew he couldn't avoid her for much longer, and he certainly didn't want to stay away from the Square.
It was empty when they arrived except for a blanket laid out with some yarn and tools. "Where's everybody else?"
"They're not coming today. Sit down and hold this skein out for me."
Charlinder held a skein of yarn open while Miriam wound it into a ball around the end of a polished stick of wood.
"Listen, I'm sorry about screaming at you the other night," she said.
"Does that mean you've changed your mind?"
She didn't answer his question. "It isn't that I don't believe in you, I'm just worried about you."
"Well, I...understand your worry, but I'm still going."
"When are you leaving?"
"January."
"Good, you should take your time."
"So you're okay with me doing this?"
"I'm glad you're not rushing into it."
"Why? Are you planning to talk me out of it?"
He should have known better than to be combative with Miriam. "I might not need to. You're giving yourself time to think it over."
"I have thought it over. It's too late to change my mind."
"No, it isn't, Char! Why is this trip so important to you? Why do you need to find out how the Plague started?"
"You've seen how the Faithful have been getting this year, so surely you don't need to ask me that. It all hinges on what caused the Plague. That's their ammunition."
"Darling, I want to shut them up just as much as you do, but your life is more important than that, and if you go on with this--"
"I don't think you do," Charlinder interrupted.
"What?"
"I don't think you want to shut them up as much as I do. They're just obnoxious now, but if they keep on like this, they'll be dangerous in the future. Maybe not this year, maybe not even this century, but they will become much more powerful than anyone who disagrees with them, and that power will do damage."
"I see you've been reading up on history, but even if the Faithful are really that dangerous, let me ask you this: what good will your travels do if you don't make it back here alive?"
"So I'll just have to make sure I do make it back alive."
"That's what I thought you'd say. And if that's what you're saying, then you need some new socks, because you won't make it to Italy if your feet freeze off in the middle of Canada."
Charlinder didn't quite understand why she was saying this. "Yeah, I'll need a lot of things..."
"So I'll measure your ankle and start up a new pair for you just as soon as we finish balling this up."
"Oh. Thanks."
"I don't want to hold you back," she continued. "I just want you to know..."
"You're worried about me."
"It's
not
too late to change your mind," she finished. "You don't need to be
ashamed
if you do."
That was not exactly the acceptance he'd been hoping to find, but for the time being it would suffice. As the months went on, he found that preparing for traveling the world was nothing like he expected, or rather, that preparing his neighbors for his traveling the world was nothing like he'd imagined. He had envisioned himself having to explain his reasoning to at least one person at least once a day, every day, for the next seven months. What actually happened was that no one tried to stop him. When he wasn't either teaching or sleeping, he gardened, prepared food and wove cloth much more than he had ever done before, and no one raised any objection to him keeping more of the product for himself than usual. Even more unexpected was who showed their support for him. He had predicted a hostile reaction from the Faithful and warm encouragement from his friends. In fact his friends were unimpressed. After a few weeks of this, Charlinder was not surprised. They were just as nonchalant in their response to the Faithful's proselytizing. They were no less friendly to him than before, in fact Phoebe and Meredith soon began making bags to hold his supplies, but they, much like Miriam, simply didn't see what was so important about his trip. Sometimes, Charlinder wanted to corner them and demand to know if they had ever paid attention to any of their history lessons, and other times he figured he would wait and see how much their attitudes had changed when he returned.
The Faithful surprised him beyond his maddest fantasies. One day in late July, when Charlinder was grinding corn for Eleanor, she asked him about his trip.
"Like I told the kids, I'll walk west through North America and Asia, then through part of Europe until I reach Italy," he explained apprehensively.
"But why are you doing this?" she asked.
"Well," Charlinder began. He paused to choose his words. What he really wanted to do was complete the conversation without engaging her in a confrontation. "There's been some fighting recently about the Plague, and where it came from."
"Yes, I've seen that," she agreed.
"So I'm going to Italy, where the Plague started, to find out what made it happen, so no one will have to fight over it anymore." He hoped that was a diplomatic enough answer.
A lovely smile opened up on her round, wrinkled face. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."
"Really?"
"You just might find a message from God," she said, still beaming.
"Yes," Charlinder began slowly. "I might find exactly that."
"I just hope I'm around to hear what it is when you get back."
"I’m sure you will be."
"You're such a good boy. I don't see what my grandchildren have against you."
"Which grandchildren?"
"Oh, Ruth and Robert think you're a bad influence or something."
He was about to remind Eleanor of the time she had apparently blamed Roy for Charlinder's refusal of her grandson's generous offer. Then he remembered that she sometimes addressed her own children by her siblings' names and regularly wandered into the smokehouse when she needed the kitchen, so he decided not to press the issue. "Not everyone needs to be my friends," he said instead.
He soon found that Eleanor was not unique among the Faithful; most of them were just as encouraging of his travels and just as warmly hopeful that he would find a sign from God. He often wondered if he should explain that he was actually trying to prove them wrong, but the time was never right to have that conversation. He needed to concentrate on getting ready to walk around the world; it would mean needless complication to pick fights with people who weren't feeling combative with him. Meanwhile, Ruth and Robert avoided talking to him, but since this posed no problem, he did not complain.
By September, Charlinder's neighbors had helped him amass a supply of pemmican, grains and dried fruits and vegetables that would probably last several weeks, a pair of the densest blankets he had ever woven, a clay pot to use for cooking and storage, and other items to keep him provided for. He had copied the world map onto a sheet of parchment, and he decided his neighbors didn't need to know about the extra weight on his back from Eileen's journals.
"There's something I think you should take with you that you haven't arranged," said Roy one night as they were getting ready for bed.
"What's that?"
"You’re expecting to go without livestock, and that’s a mistake."
"I don't think they'd ever let me take a horse, it's too..."
"I wasn't thinking of a horse," Roy interrupted. "I was thinking of a sheep, and I'm not suggesting you ask for the village's permission."
"You want me to steal one of the community's sheep?"
"I want you to have fresh milk every day, new wool to wear, and something other than the earth and sky to keep you company. Don't think of it as stealing, it's just another supply you need to appropriate. When you're ready to go in January, leave really early in the morning, go to the barnyard, and pick out a milking ewe. They’ll hardly notice she’s gone, and when they do, they’ll understand."
"I
could
use the food source," Charlinder admitted after a pause. "Would it really work, though?"
"How would it not work?"
"I don’t think a milking ewe will be up to walking that many hours a day. Whereas a pack animal wouldn’t tire out before I do."
"Okay, consider this. When was the last time you heard of a guy who died from injuries inflicted by a milking ewe that got out of control?"
"That would be..." Charlinder began, and stopped short. "Okay, point taken, but still, what happens when she gets tired of walking?"
"You never had much cold tolerance, and I don’t think you’re going to put any more meat on your bones in the next couple of years, so what happens when you can’t stay warm enough to survive a winter night in the Great Frozen North? I’ll tell you what happens: your body burns calories to stay warm, and that means you get thinner, and how will that work if you have nothing to eat out there? Take a ewe, she’ll keep you clothed and fed, she’ll be easier to feed than a pack animal and easier to control. She can go places that a horse can’t, though sometimes you might have to carry her."
"I’m carrying enough already."
"And you’re a healthy young man with long legs and a strong back; you’ll manage the weight, but you won’t even hold yourself up if you keel over from cold or hunger."
"Okay, I get it. I’m sure it’ll be nice to have something walking along with me." He paused. "Even if I have to put her on my shoulders sometimes."
"I read Eileen's Plague-time journals, too. You don't know how dangerous loneliness can be, because you've never really felt it. Goodnight, Char."
Charlinder stayed at Spinners' Square longer than his friends at that time of year. He was making himself a new set of winter clothes, as it was so much more important this time. The weather was getting cool and cloudy enough that Miriam and the young women found other types of work more comfortable than sitting still outdoors in early evening. As he was leaving one day later that week, Yolande caught him and pulled him aside. She took him around, not to the main road for the meeting square as he'd intended, but the back way facing the river and headed them towards the barnyard.
"You need to see Judith," she said while glancing furtively around, as if someone were about to jump out.
"Your cousin, Judith?" he asked. Yolande nodded. "Why?"
"Because she wants to be the new schoolteacher."
Charlinder didn't know Judith very well, though he vaguely remembered her from their school days. She was a few years younger, and he recalled that she had always been helpful to their teacher, though he could never tell how gifted she was. She was young for the position, but no one else had come forward and their village had seen younger teachers. Moreover, it occurred to Charlinder that "gifted" wasn’t nearly as important a qualification as "willing," and if Judith was volunteering herself, that made her a better candidate than anyone else he knew. "That's good news. Why are we sneaking around?"
"Because Bruce is out of his gourd!" she hissed.
"What's his problem today?"
"He keeps trying to pick a fight with Kenny. Not that I can catch him at it, but I swear, he's looking for an excuse."
"He’s
still
doing that?"
"He's at it again, and it's because of me, so I'm trying to stay out of his way until it blows over. Not easy when you live with the guy."
"How is it because of you?"
"Because I might be pregnant, and if so, it's from Kenny."
"And your brother doesn't approve?"
"And I was stupid enough to tell Brucie when I don't even really know yet! So he's being a pain in my ass, and a pain in Kenny's...everything, if he gets his way, and I'm trying not to put his attention on either of us."
"What exactly is Brucie trying to accomplish this time?"
"You know my brother and his Faith, and what he believes God wants us to do, but I’m ready for another baby now, so when I told him my monthly usually gets here by now, he started going on about how Kenny needs to 'commit' to me, and all that crap, and he hasn't gotten over it yet."
"He can't be serious."
"Sure, he says he wants me to get married before I have any more kids, but of course that's not how we roll, so he says he just wants Kenny to take his place in our cabin, meanwhile I guess Brucie thinks he'll get to move in with some gullible brotherless girl and act like he can tell her when to do sex in return for helping her with the children."
"Does he really want Kenny to live with you?"
"I think he wants Kenny to stay away from me, but whatever it is, I don't like how he's going about it."