Wind Follower. Carole McDonnell
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that time, her husband found his mouth. “Satha is already twenty-four, my friend. Wouldn’t your son rather marry some little girl his age, someone he can grow old with, rather than a woman of unmarriageable age? Consider too that Satha is not of his tribe. Nor is she rich. What can we give you for such—?”
“I don’t want some little girl,” I shouted, rubbing my neck. Now that I was free from any threat of Monua’s weapon I, too, found my mouth. “I want Satha.”
“And you rich boys always get what you want, don’t you?” Monua said, her eyes scorning me. I saw some ugly thing in her soul, and feared the prospect of such a “New Mother.” What if Satha tya Monua turned out to be a “true daughter of her mother?”
Yet, I ached to free Satha from her parents, yearned to caress her in my bed. Already she had begun to fill my future. In my mind, no future event excluded her. No feast, no journey, no riverwalk. How could I live without her if she had so enmeshed herself into my future life?
“A child who receives all he wishes is not a true son,” I said to Monua. “I am Taer’s true son, the hope of his old age, the honor of my dead mother. Just as Satha is the honor of her mother. I do not waste my time on foolish wishes as others do.”
“Mentura—untried boasting,” she answered, as if she, a woman, were a warrior or a man my equal. “Your son makes speeches to his elders?”
“Perhaps you should not insult someone you hardly know!” I snapped back. Yes, I did this, even though we were guests in her house. Father lifted his left hand, as if to strike me.
He had struck me only once before, on the day I told him I intended to kill Okiak. Seeing his raised hand again, I feared he would not allow Satha to marry me. Terrified at losing what I had not yet won, I clasped my hands together, and knelt on the floor pleading, “Father, forgive me. I spoke rashly.”
Monua shook her head several times. “You’re lucky you did this in our house. If the elders knew of this.... “Her voice faded with the vague threat. “Before the war, children would have been stoned for less. But the war has made us all tired of bloodshed. The poor have always had to suffer humiliations. Never did I dream I would become one of them.” I sensed that three thousand quixas would have suited her “humiliation” quite nicely.
“Your son’s mind is mad with love,” Nwaha apologized for me. “Young men are rash when they’re infatuated.”
His words caused his wife’s wrath to turn toward him. She removed her wifely half-veil before us and wiped her eyes. “The boy insulted you and here you are wiping his bottom with that weak tongue of yours. Have you no spine? No, I have no husband. Not one worthy of the name.”
She retreated through the wooden curtains into a far part of the house. But even hidden from us, she wailed loud enough. Doves in the Eastern Desert could have heard her sobbing. “What a fool I was to marry such a foolish man!”
Nwaha held up his hand. “I frustrate my wife, as you can see.” He lowered his head and pushed his dark brown fingers through his hair. “Taer, my friend, you see how it is. Who would have thought that those we love would mar our reunion? Forgive me if I sin against courtesy and ask you to leave, but you will understand that so much shame in one day is more than—”
“Our reunion is not marred,” Father said. “Are we not covenant brothers? There is no sorrow or shame, which we cannot endure together. Now, if you honor me, you must allow my son to marry your daughter.”
“I’ve met many rich men in the fifteen years we have been apart. None but you, Taer, have honored the poor. Jobara! Indeed, I’ve chosen my friends well.” He turned to me. “Loic, with a father so honorable, I have no doubt you too are a man of great honor. Forgive me for insulting you. But think about it, lad. You are but—”
“Eighteen and old enough.”
Father gave me a quick angry look, then spoke to Nwaha. “Isn’t this a surprising thing?” he asked. “My friend, do you not remember our old promise?”
Nwaha squinted, apparently confused. “What old promise, my friend?”
“That our children would marry,” Father said, smiling in pretend amazement.
It was the first time I had ever heard of such a promise. I knew immediately that this was one of Father’s diplomatic ploys. I kept my head low, my hands clasped, my knees to the ground. “How the fates conspire to bring two covenant brothers together!” Father added.
“Ibye, ibye!” Nwaha said. “Now I remember it!” Yes, Nwaha was as good a diplomat as my father was. “But those promises were made when we were both young and wealthy. Many years have passed and our feet have walked long in different paths.”
“Troubles come no matter how well we plan,” Father answered. “But the nature of the world is to bring our old promises before our eyes.” He raised his right hand towards me, and I stood up. “My friend, let our children marry as we promised each other so long ago. Forgive my son’s outburst. Love has its own rules, and a boy’s love is often brazen. Nevertheless, the love of one’s youth always abides. My first wife, though dead, is ever on my mind. I pray you then, let the boy marry Satha. If he doesn’t get his way, it will not go well with me. Loic is strong-willed and will spend all his days hating me—and perhaps you—for refusing him the girl. We would not want that, would we?”
“Waihai,” Monua said, wiping her face and returning to the room. “Yes, Taer, children are often like that. They forgive nothing and will hold it over their parents’ heads until the day we die. Some even avenge themselves against their elders when they’re full-grown. What is this world coming to?”
Nwaha gestured me to a stool opposite him. “So you think you love my daughter?”
“The Wind turned my eyes towards her, and I can see nothing else until she turns her own eyes on me.”
“Very poetic, young man,” Nwaha said. “But is there a more earthly reason perhaps for your love for my daughter?”
I smiled, feeling a blush across my cheek. “Although Satha wears the Theseni scarfed full veil I can see she is beautiful. And the shape of her body pleases me. I’ve spoken with vendors in the marketplace and they say she’s a good woman. Is there a better woman to be the gatekeeper of my heart?”
Nwaha turned to my father, “So, your son’s ypher rules his life?”
“If my ypher rules me, old man,” I shouted, “at least it’s better than you letting your wife rule you.” I stood up, annoyed I had almost begun to like one whose weakness made him unworthy of me. The girl was safely mine. Both Nwaha and Father had opened their mouths to lie about an age-old promise and I would have been a fool not to use it. “I want the girl. Since you promised each other your children, why deny me? Especially since the One Who Holds My Breath in His Hand has brought us together to bless your old promise? Get me the girl for me to wife. Let the half-marriage gathering be tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Father looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “A betrothal cannot be arranged by tomorrow.”
“In two or three days, then,” I demanded. “Enough.”
Anger, restraint and shame battled in Father’s eyes.
Nwaha’s voice trembled. “But won’t people say the half marriage was hastily planned because Satha—” He disgusted me by glancing at his wife as if he would topple to the ground without her strength.
“They will say nothing,” she assured him. “They know the purity of our Satha.”
Unable to stay any more in the presence of such a man, I walked toward the doorway of the tent. “Father,” I said, “show them Pagatsu generosity.” Then I left. If I had stayed longer, my mouth would have said something my heart would have regretted.
Outside, alone, I paced before the house, wondering what negotiations were going on. For the moment, Satha was nowhere to be seen. Soon,