Part Five of five

At least I still have my warm cloak, Amanda thought as she trudged along the road later that morning through the late winter chill. I wonder what story they will give Gilbert when he returns? Will he send anyone to look for me?

Amanda thought regretfully about the trove of stolen coins she had left behind, hidden in her room. She hoped Yolande might find them. Now I am back to where I started nearly a year ago, she sighed. Except for this fine cloak, I have nothing, she snorted derisively. I have gained and lost two fortunes in less than a year, and am no better off. And, she added bitterly, I might have been a noble lady but for that despicable Lenore.

The events of the night were hazy, and her head still ached abominably, but she knew she was lucky to be alive. Amanda wondered who the men were. She thought she recognized one of the voices as that of the ostler but couldn't be sure. No matter. She would never see them again.

A dizzy spell suddenly almost overcame her and she sat down at the roadside until it passed. What did she hit me with, Amanda wondered. It nearly broke my skull. She touched the tender spot and came away with blood. The wound was serious. She felt nauseous as she arose and stumbled along. Now and then she stopped when the dizziness threatened to make her faint. She held onto the roadside trees and hedgerows for support.

The area she walked through was more populous than that near the manor. On either side of the road were well tended fields, the snow piles receding to show their ploughed furrows. There were no workers in the fields as yet. Some distance ahead, Amanda could see what looked like a village beyond which was a larger structure that could be an abbey.

An abbey, she thought hopefully. They will take me in for I need help. Blackness nearly veiled her eyes again as she forced away the faintness and concentrated on reaching the abbey.

An old woman stood on the stoop of her wattle and daub cottage watching the traveller as she wended her way down the road to the village. A look of concern crossed her kind face as the stranger staggered and hung on to the hedgerows or trees when she nearly fell. Despite the chill, she lingered to see if the girl was ill or if she needed help.

Amanda saw the woman watching her approach and made her way to the cottage gate. Black wings of threatening unconsciousness beat around her head as she tried to frame a sentence.

Without hesitation, the old woman opened her gate and taking Amanda's arm, led her into the cottage, and over to a cot. Amanda collapsed onto it.

The aroma of food cooking tantalized her as Amanda regained consciousness. She raised herself into a sitting position on the cot and examined her surroundings. It was a simple place with whitewashed walls on which utensils hung from pegs. The earth floor was covered in freshly laid rushes. And it was warm from the cookfire over which she saw a kettle suspended, and from which emanated that delicious smell.

Movement attracted her attention to the far end of the small room where the old woman had arisen to have a look at her patient. She was a tiny person, with the active eyes of a bird, and her wizened face wreathed in smiles, when she saw Amanda sitting up.

"So you have returned to the land of the living, girl," she said in a crackling voice. "I was afraid you were going to die on my doorstep." She wiped her hands on her linen apron, and leant closer to look in Amanda's eyes. "Yes, I think you will be good as new in a few days. I have some medication for you to take, mind you drink it all. It will calm your headache."

With that, she went to the table and returned with a mug of some liquid. Amanda tasted it, and made a face at its bitterness. But under the stern eyes of the old woman, she swallowed it all.

"Thank you for your hospitality, good mother. I will take my leave now. I was going to that abbey up the road for sanctuary for a few days until I am better."

"That's no abbey, girl. Not any longer. It used be an abbey long ago. Now it's the home of a great lady." Seeing the disappointment on Amanda's face, she added, "You need some care for that head wound. How did you get it?"

"I fell," Amanda replied somewhat abstractedly. "Are we near Paris here? That is where I am going."

"Paris is just over a day's walk from this village. But I wouldn't be going there if I were you. There's a garrison surrounding the city to protect it from the Norsemen. My son was taken up by our seigneur to help guard the bridges. No, girl, this is as close as you want to get to Paris. Besides, every summer there's plague in the city. Must be the filth in the streets. You take my advice. Stay out of Paris, it will be your death to go there." She nodded her old head sagely, reminding Amanda again of a bird.

"I am feeling much better, thanks to your medicine," Amanda said as she stood up and tottered. She sat down, realizing she was in no condition to go on.

"Stay here a day or two, girl. I would love the company, and you need to let that wound heal. I'll just put some salve on it after I clean it up a bit." She fluttered over to some shelves and pushing jars this way and that, finally pulled down a lidded earthen jar.

"Are you a healing woman?" Amanda asked. "You seem to know a lot about medicines."

"Yes, girl. I am the local healing woman and midwife. I've seen more people in and out of this world than you could imagine," she cackled. "Yes, seen ‘em coming and going," she chortled again.

She suddenly turned to Amanda and said, "I can't keep calling you girl. What is your name?"

"Amanda."

"I'm Gertha. My son is Léon. He isn't married yet, either," she said, eying Amanda with a speculative gleam. "Why are you going to Paris? This is a nice quiet village. You should stay here. I have room now that Léon is serving with our seigneur. And when he comes back..."

"I am looking for someone in Paris," Amanda replied. "But I thank you for your kind offer. It does seem like a pleasant place to live. Perhaps I will return someday, after I have accomplished what I've set out to do in the city."

"Are you hungry, Amanda? There is nice thick pea soup in the pot, with lots of onions and ham." Gertha went to the pot, giving the ladle a few turns and the aroma drifted throughout the cottage.

"Yes. I am very hungry. How long was I asleep?"

"Most of the day. But you looked like you needed a long rest. Here, come and eat." Gertha ladled the fragrant soup into two wooden bowls and set them on the table. "At least stay the night, Amanda. You can make an early start tomorrow, or even the next day."

As Gertha chattered on in her bird-like manner, Amanda realized the woman was lonely, and wanted someone to talk to. She accepted the offer of the night's lodging.

"Are you sure you won't stay another day, Amanda?" Gertha persisted. The early mists of morning still hung around the village huts, as Amanda glanced out the cottage window. The sun had yet to make its appearance.

Her attention was caught by a woman riding down the centre of the village on a white horse. She was finely dressed, with curling red hair that floated about her face like a cloud. As she passed Gertha's cottage, she reined the horse, gazing about as if listening or looking for something. She shrugged, then kneed the horse into a canter in the direction of the old abbey.

"Well, Amanda, at least take some food with you. You look half-starved. You need to get a little meat on your bones, girl. Maybe if you'd stay in one place long enough..." Gertha stopped, realizing that Amanda wasn't listening.

Her eyes were filled with the vision of that beautiful woman on the horse. That is what I wanted to be, she thought, a lady, but never will. She turned from the window with a melancholy expression.

"Finish your breakfast, Amanda. You can't go travelling on an empty stomach." Amanda laughed fondly at Gertha's well-intentioned nagging. No wonder Léon went with the army. He probably never had a moment's peace. With a good appetite, she ate the barley porridge, then helped Gertha clean up.

Reluctantly, she bade Gertha farewell, pressing one of her precious few coins upon her, and started walking the last few miles to Paris. She was exhilarated by the thought, only another day and I'll be there! It made her step more briskly. Even the day seemed made for travelling. A bright sun rode in the cloudless sky, with the promise of warmth later in the day. The road was muddy but firm underfoot. Drawing in a lungfull of the fresh air, she felt it was good just to be alive.

Leaving the village behind, Amanda passed the old abbey, its fortress-like walls an impenetrable division between her dreams and her reality. What would it be like to live like a lady in a castle like that, to be waited upon rather than be the servant? To have fine clothes and jewels, never to worry about money or food. With a last lingering look up at the castellated bulk, she squared her shoulders and set her face toward Paris. That is where she would find her benefactress, and perhaps even, her true mother.

Amanda sat on the sacks of milled flour as they drew near the city of Paris. With each bump of the waggon, a cloud of flour dust would float up around her, making her sneeze. At least it was better than walking, she thought, but not much. The waggon bench was occupied by the miller and his son. They were delivering flour to supply the bakers in the garrison. Since early that morning, Amanda had ridden in the back of their waggon, having been offered the ride as she toiled along the muddy rutted road toward Paris. Now, it was nearly mid-day, and the early spring sun sparkled on the city as they approached.

It was a sight that took her breath away. On the island was the city of Paris. Ringed around it, was another city of tents, amongst which were booths and waggons selling food and other items to the soldiers. Carts and people came and went through the camp, and the smoke from the cooking fires cast a blue haze over the whole area.

Amanda had never seen anything like it. So many people in one place! So much activity and colour. And beyond the camp, was the city itself. Traffic on the bridges was heavy, people and waggons bustling back and forth from the city. She could hardly contain her excitement.

****

On the Seine embankment, Amanda found a spot to rest. She had been walking through the city for hours and was tired and hungry. From under her cloak, she pulled out the package of food Gertha had made for her. Just some cheese and bread, but it would assuage her hunger for now. She set the food beside her on the linen napkin, and took small bites to make it last.

A stealthy sound behind her made Amanda turn just as someone pushed her roughly aside, and as she righted herself, she saw her food was gone. She jumped to her feet and watched helplessly as two wretched-looking children sped away with her meal. They were soon lost to sight in the crowds, so she had no hope of catching them. A Saxon curse burst from her lips as she stamped her foot in vexation. You've had your first lesson in the city, Amanda, she berated herself, never let your guard down for a second.

The condition of those children bothered her. She had never seen tots so pitiable, not even the serfs' children. The young thieves looked about eight or nine years old, and were clad in tattered and filthy rags. Where were their parents, that their children ran wild in the streets? They must have been desperately hungry too, she thought, to steal food so brazenly in broad daylight.

The sun was beginning to decline and Amanda realized, besides having no food, she had no place to spend the night. She stopped several passersby and enquired about lodgings but found the folk were suspicious and distant. Some seemed not to understand her speech.

The only money she had left, Amanda decided to save if possible, to the last extremity. She would not pay for lodgings if she could find somewhere to sleep that night. Where did those children go at night, she wondered.

During her walk around the city earlier, she had passed a building under construction. She walked by the place again, and saw that the workers had gone. With a quick glance around, Amanda slipped inside the dusty debris-strewn building and found a protected spot where she could wedge herself in and feel secure for the night.

Her warm wool cloak kept out most of the chill as she wrapped herself completely inside it, and she tried to fall asleep. The ceaseless skitterings and scratchings inside the unfinished building kept her awake most of the night. She suspected it was cats or dogs, perhaps even rats, but she remained wary in case the sounds were human.

As morning dawned, Amanda was awakened by new sounds. The workers were starting their day on the construction. She had not meant to still be here when they returned. She unwrapped herself and pushed out into the open, and bumped into a burly red-faced man who glared at her menacingly.

"What do you think this is, an inn? Get out of here, girl!" He gave her a rough shove and then a painful kick to her rump.

Amanda stumbled, grazing her hand on the rough floor, then with startling agility, whirled and gave him a jarring kick in the groin. He bellowed in pain and swore foully. She took to her heels, passing the astonished and amused labourers, their laughter following her out onto the street. She didn't stop running until she was sure no one was after her.

Panting and giggling, she collapsed onto the street, uncaring what others might think. Sobering, she thought, I'd better eat soon. I'm getting lightheaded, which sent her off into another round of laughter.

Though it was very early, the stalls in the market were opening. Amanda caught the scent of something delicious and followed it to its source, a meat pie baker. She strolled over to his booth and hungrily viewed the pies ranged on his stall. The baker stood behind the counter, watching her approach, as he brushed the flies away from his pies. He looked unshaven and unclean, his blouse a dull grey which had once been white, and his apron stained with grease.

"How much for one of your pies?" Amanda asked. He gave her a price, one of her precious coins.

"What about just one slice?" she parried, trying to bargain. He shrugged and cut a slice, handing it to her. The grease ran over her fingers and she licked it off.

As she was about to hand over a coin, the two urchins she encountered the previous day came up to the booth, their hungry hollow eyes begging for food. The baker grabbed a cudgel from behind his counter and ran out to chase the children. "Get off, you mangy river rats," he yelled, pursuing them a distance down the street. While he was thus distracted, Amanda picked up the rest of the pie, concealing it under her cloak and ran in the opposite direction. Making a few turns at the many narrow streets, she was soon sure she had lost him if he had decided to give chase. She made her way back to the embankment to enjoy her meal.

As she was finishing her first slice of the meat pie, she had the feeling she was being watched. Turning slightly, she saw the same two children, probably brother and sister, standing a short distance off. Amanda beckoned them over, but for several seconds they hesitated, wary of a trap. She gestured to the pie which she pulled from under her cloak. The children darted forward, starvation overcoming their fear.

Without a word, the children devoured the remains of the pie, licking the pan clean. Amanda watched them with a wistful smile, and asked, "Where do you live?"

"Here," answered the boy, who seemed to the elder of the two. He gestured around with his dirt-caked hand to encompass the whole city. The boy and his sister were tiny and fine-boned, emaciated from poor nutrition. She thought they were both fair-haired, though it was difficult to tell with the dirt encrusted on them.

"Where are your parents?"

The boy shrugged. "Got none," he said, then bashfully added, "You're a nice lady." He stared at Amanda with gratitude, his pale blue eyes shining in an exceedingly grimy face. Abruptly, he grabbed his sister's hand and they dashed off into the warren of streets.

Amanda watched for a second until the children disappeared, then picking up the pie pan, took it down to the river and washed it. She tucked it into a pocket in her cloak. It might be worth something. For now, hunger was at bay. Her next concern was to find paying work and lodgings. And, of course, she would begin making enquiries about her benefactress, eventually finding her real mother.

All the day, Amanda trudged the streets, stopping people to ask where she could find work. Most just brushed by, with an abrupt disdainful glance, and those who spoke to her, offered no encouragement.

One fellow she accosted, said, "With the Norsemen attacking villages and towns along the Seine, there's a lot of folk coming into Paris for safety. There's no jobs, no rooms, and soon there'll be no food. Sorry, I can't help you, but there's just too many folk here who need help." With that he bustled off, leaving Amanda staring hopelessly after him.

It was probably true. She had seen it for herself in her few days in the city. The streets always seemed thronged with people shouldering large heavy-looking packs. All their worldly possessions, she supposed. At night, they camped with the garrison across the river, amidst the relative safety of the soldiers.

Toward evening, Amanda was again ravenously hungry, not having eaten since the meal she had stolen from the baker that morning. She almost regretted sharing the pie with those children, now that her own stomach was empty again. As she trod the paved streets near the embankment, Amanda noticed the boy and girl following her. They were shyly keeping a distance, and as she turned to the two urchins, she was sure they were going to bolt. She beckoned them to come closer. Glancing at each other, they warily closed the distance until the brother and sister were standing in front of her.

She smiled encouragingly and said, "What are your names? My name is Amanda."

The boy seemed to consider his answer, then replied, looking down shyly at the road, "I'm Jehan, and my sister is Therèse." Those pale blue eyes found hers and Amanda felt a sudden warmth of compassion for these orphans who had nothing, not even decent footwear for their rag-covered feet.

Therèse came forward and bobbed an awkward curtsey which made Amanda chuckle. "Thank you, mademoiselle, for the pie. Do you have anymore food?" she said in a soft piping voice, timidly looking up from under her straggling locks. Her brother nudged her roughly, and she pouted at him.

"I wish I had, Therèse, but I am hungry too," Amanda replied, crouching down to get closer to the children. "Perhaps I may be able to get us something from one of the food stalls in the army camp."

"No, Amanda. You shouldn't go there. It's a dangerous place. We can get something," Jehan spoke up, his face showing boyish determination, as he stepped forward. "Therèse and I can bring you some food, mademoiselle."

The two children scampered off and Amanda followed them into the city. There were many people hurrying along the streets, and no one took much notice of the tots, other than to threaten them if they came too near.

As Amanda trailed Jehan and Therèse, she saw the little girl approach a middle-aged man who was walking hurriedly along the street. She watched Therèse point to the long loaf of bread he was clutching his hand, and saw with horror, the man raise a cudgel to aim at the child. From behind, Jehan gave him a kick to the calf, and he toppled, dropping the bread. Therèse scooped it up and they ran.

Amanda rushed over to him as he got up and seemed about to give chase. His florid face was suffused with anger as she held out her hand to help him, forestalling any possibility that he might catch up with the two little thieves.

"They should get rid of all those vermin!" he shouted. "Drown ‘em all in the river. It's not safe to walk anywhere these days!" He looked Amanda over suspiciously, then added, "Excuse my outburst, mademoiselle, but I am tired of being set upon and robbed."

"No harm done, monsieur. You have only lost a loaf of bread." Seeing that he looked like a prosperous merchant, Amanda added, "Do you know of a place where I might find work? I am used to hard work and am very honest." She gave him a bland look which she hoped was convincing.

He scowled, and answered, "There's no work here. Go back where you came from." He stomped off down the street, and was soon lost in the crowd.

Amanda returned to the embankment where she expected to find Jehan and Therèse. They were waiting, munching on their stolen meal, having left a large portion of the loaf for her. Therèse grinned proudly, offering Amanda a large hunk of bread.

It was a strange alliance that developed between Amanda and the two children. Jehan and Therèse almost seemed the elders as they showed Amanda their hiding places, the best ways to steal food and other items, how to avoid the other feral children who ran wild in the city. She, in turn, offered them her protection and strength, and after a few days, seemed to have adopted these orphans as her own brother and sister.

Since arriving in Paris, Amanda had seen many orphans, varying in age from nearly toddlers to older children. These hapless creatures were treated worse than animals, driven away, hit with cudgels or stones, beaten or ignored. They swarmed through the streets, like feral cats, starving, desperate and dangerous. The only way to avoid being beaten by these gangs was to be part of them, to run with these stray children as Jehan and Therèse did.

The children had their own shelter where they hid at night. It was an abandoned shed in a cemetery, the roof of which was fallen in, covering only a small part of the hut. It barely kept out the rain. Amanda used the old roofing boards to create a more secure space which leaked but was roomier than their previous shelter. Her thefts became more audacious as she stole clothing from clothes lines or bolts of cloth from a draper's shop to make blankets and cloaks for her little charges.

The petty thefts which Amanda and the tots managed each day barely kept them fed. She knew, with the coming winter, their shelter would be inadequate and food would be even more scarce and expensive. The responsibility for these young lives weighed heavily on her as she thought how to acquire enough money for lodgings and food to last the winter. All her efforts went into caring for the children and she forgot about her reason for being in Paris. Finding her benefactress would have to wait a while. There was time.

Amanda found some scraps of metal in the shed, and she began using a stone to hone them, scraping vigorously. Jehan was fascinated by her adeptness as the metal items took shape as a fine-bladed knife, a narrow metal strip, a hook and several other shapes.

"What are you making, Amanda?" he asked, leaning on her shoulder, watching as she worked.

"Some tools and a weapon," she replied, and bent back over the sharpening stone, rasping the rust from the iron.

"How do you know how to make things like this?" Jehan frowned over the knife which lay on the ground beside Amanda. Its shiny blade was razor sharp. He moved toward it and Amanda pushed his hand away quickly.

"You will cut yourself on that, Jehan. Never touch that knife. It is for me to carry." She patted his hand affectionately, and added, "My foster-father showed me how to sharpen tools. He was a master mason and had many good tools."

"Where is he now, Amanda?" the lad asked, as if suddenly aware she had come from somewhere other than Paris.

Amanda looked down at her rust-coloured, roughened hands, considering how to answer Jehan. "He lives in a town very far away," she said finally. "I do miss him sometimes. He was a good man." She stopped working and stared out through the opening in the shed to the trodden grass at the entrance. Her own snug home was very far from this place indeed.

****

Amanda hefted her hand-made knife with satisfaction. The hilt was wound with strips of leather and the blade was honed to a fine point, its edge razor sharp. Though it would make a good weapon, Amanda had other plans for the knife. She slipped it into the leather scabbard she had fashioned, where it hung out of sight beneath the linen overskirt of her woolen gown.

While Jehan and Therèse watched, bemused, Amanda practised drawing the knife with a deft and soundless movement. She created an effigy about the size of a man, hanging a leather purse from a rope at the waist. Using the knife, she slit the purse thong and caught it in her hands, while moving past the figure. Over and over, she made the manoeuvre until it was smooth and quick.

Finally, Therèse asked, "Why are you doing that, Amanda? Is it fun? Can I do it too?"

"Since I can't find work, Therèse, I need to get money for us somehow. I have seen cutpurses in the city who steal from people without their knowing it. They are quick and clever. So must I be, if I am to keep us in food this winter."

*****

As the spring wore on, more folk were driven to seek refuge in the city as the Norsemen sailed up the Seine in their dragon ships, ravaging and pillaging as they went. Nothing seemed to stop them as they pushed against the river current with their oared ships, their goal being Paris.

Outside the city, the garrison was reinforced and preparations made against the invaders. Inside the overcrowded city, life became more hazardous with inadequate food, shelter and water. Amanda and the children found it increasingly hard to steal enough to eat. Some days they had nothing.

One morning in early summer, as the sun rose into a cloudless sky, Amanda heard a commotion as they emerged from their shelter. As they walked toward the embankment, Amanda saw crowds of people milling along its edge, pointing and clamouring excitedly, fearfully. Drawn by curiosity, they pushed into the crowd and watched with horror as a fleet of Viking ships sailed into sight. The crowd wailed with terror, some dropping to their knees to implore God to save them, others fleeing to hide within the city.

Hanging onto the children's hands, Amanda hurried to find a place where they could be safe, and watch the battle she could see forming up. The army had assembled on both sides of the river, preparing to meet the invaders.

Amanda led Jehan and Therèse to a nearby building where they climbed to the roof. They had an unrestricted view of the Norse fleet with its fierce dragon mastheads. There seemed to be hundreds of ships plying the Seine toward Paris. And nothing to stop them. Amanda felt a thrill of horror as she looked at her two little charges. All the terrifying stories of the Norsemen suddenly became very real as she watched them coming ever closer to the city. She would fight to the death for Jehan and Therèse, she vowed to herself, putting her arms protectively around them.

As the fleet drew nearer, the army on both sides of the river suddenly formed two lines and began tugging at something. A chain came up, dripping, out of the water, and oxen on both sides were driven to pull the chain taut. At the same time, Amanda could see fires being lit, and then small rafts set alight and propelled into the stream where they floated toward the ships. From the shore, flaming arrows landed in the rigging of the Viking ships and their blazing fabric rained down onto the decks. A cheer went up from the crowd on the embankment, and from the hardier souls watching from the bridge. Amanda began to feel some hope the Norsemen might be repulsed by these tactics.

Toward mid-day, several of the burning ships had been abandoned, their crew either swimming to the other ships or killed by arrows from the shore. Volleys of arrows flew between the combatants with neither side showing an advantage. Finally, the Norsemen began to move back downstream and a huge cheer went up from the army, and then from the citizenry of Paris. People hugged one another and catcalled at the retreating fleet. For a moment, the city beat with one heart.

Over the next several days, the invaders came again and again, each time retreating with heavy losses. Amanda began to fear they would abandon their ships and come overland to lay siege to the city. Things were desperate in Paris already. The swollen population strained the city's resources past its limits. In the heat of the summer, the garbage and excrement that seemed everywhere bred hordes of flies which landed on everything. They carried disease and inevitably, a plague began. Without adequate supplies and with the unclean water, people sickened and died by the dozens.

Food was so scarce it was becoming impossible to steal. Amanda began to use her skill at lock-picking to enter houses and rob them of whatever small items she could find. Even the few coins she got were often not enough to buy food. That commodity rose in price as the short supply made it more valuable. Some were making fortunes, others were starving.

Hunger was her constant companion as the summer moved toward fall. The Norsemen had ended their assault on the city, being bought off by the Count of Paris. The harvest was poor as the peasants had fled their farms for the city and many had died during the plague.

Jehan and Therèse fared no worse than other orphan children, save they had a protector. Amanda tried desperately to feed her adopted brother and sister but their emaciated little faces tore at her heart. She could never steal enough to keep them in food for more than a day.

So far, Amanda had continued to practice with the knife, but had not used it to steal a purse. She had held back, from fear that she would be caught. What would happen to Jehan and Therèse if she were hanged for theft? But hunger made her desperate and she prepared to try her skill at being a pickpocket and cutpurse. Watching others in that crafty profession, she had seen how they made their advance on the quarry, usually in the marketplace or other densely populated space. A quick nudge, or a soft brush by, and they disappeared into the crowds with a purse. These dodgers were a non-descript lot, wearing drab peasant clothing and dirt-encrusted faces. Their very ordinariness made them invisible and difficult to pick out in a crowd.

Amanda realized her height and comely appearance would make her too easy to identify, so she tried bending low as if hunchbacked and keeping her face covered with a veil. She covered her own gown, which was patched but still in good condition, with some rags she found to make herself more ugly and unobtrusive. Several forays through the city drew very little notice and she realized she had an excellent disguise. The next step would be the fateful one—to actually perpetrate the theft.

"Jehan and Therèse, I want you to stay near the shelter today," Amanda said sternly to the children early one summer morning. She had decided this would be the day. She did not want the children anywhere nearby in case she was caught. "I will be back soon with some food for us. Just promise me you will stay here," she added, bending to embrace the children.

They nodded, and she kissed both their cheeks, wondering as she did if she would ever see them again. Her mouth was dry and her heart was beating so hard, she was afraid they could hear it. She saw the fear in their eyes as her own fear seemed to communicate itself to them. With a hearty laugh, she said, "I have a surprise for you and I will bring it with me when I return."

Abruptly, Amanda strode away while she still had the courage, heading toward the marketplace. She crouched low and covered her face, her ragged aspect drawing only disgusted glances if anyone looked at her at all. So far so good, she thought as she limped through the market, looking for a likely person who might have a full purse.

The hot and sultry air of the city was stifling, especially in the clothing she was wearing, and with her face covered. Amanda was parched with thirst and found it difficult to concentrate on her purpose. Even the paving stones seemed to burn like hot coals through the thin rags covering her feet. She had all but decided to abandon the attempt for the day when a scholarly-looking man came into sight at the far side of the marketplace. He marched through the crowd with an air of authority and people made way for him. Amanda chose this man for her target. He seemed prosperous and could afford to lose a small purse.

As unobtrusively as possible, Amanda sidled through the marketplace, taking an indirect line to her quarry. He stopped here and there at various stalls, and at one, he pulled out his purse and made a purchase. Amanda noted where he replaced it, and continued to close on him. She slid her hand beneath her overskirt, found the knife hilt and clutched it. Her hand shook so she nearly dropped the knife.

The man glanced over her as she neared him then looked away. A slight commotion caused some shoving in the crowd and Amanda took this advantage to lurch against the man, slitting the purse thong and catching the purse in her hand. She melted into the crowd, gradually straightening to her full height, removing the veil and hiding the ragged shawl under her skirt. An overwhelming urge to look back almost overcame her, but Amanda resisted the impulse and continued to walk casually out of the market and into one of the streets.

When she was safely out of sight of the market, Amanda panted with excitement, her heart racing madly, her whole body trembling with exhilaration. She had done it!

She laughed aloud, and hurried through the warren of streets to a food shop where she would buy some treats for the children as well as a nourishing meat pie. The purse seemed heavy. Perhaps there was enough money for a week or more and she would not have to do this again until then.

*****

Amanda's adeptness and disguises made her a successful cutpurse. The money she hid in various places around the shelter, showing the caches to the children in case she was caught. They would have something to live on for a while at least. It was all she could do.

Each time Amanda went into the city, bent on her quest for a purse of money, she had the same trepidation and worry that she might not return. The thrill of stealing a purse, or entering a locked room to filch some items to trade for food or money, became almost addictive, an end in itself. Pitting her wits against the wealthy and powerful made her feel stronger, more in control. Whatever qualms of conscience she had originally felt, vanished in the greater good of securing food and shelter for her adopted brother and sister. Soon, she would have enough to pay for lodgings for the winter.

Her very success drew the attention of other cutpurses whose territories she had unwittingly infiltrated. Without being a member of that underground gang, Amanda took prizes that other thieves felt belonged to them.

One day in the early fall, she was followed into an alley after relieving a prosperous merchant of his purse. She hardly had time to react before he was upon her, striking her with a heavy cudgel, and grabbing the purse from her inert hand. The man was grizzled, toothless and ragged. His face was pock-marked from disease and he wheezed from the exertion of chasing her.

"That'll teach you to come into my territory," he rasped. "From now on, if you want to work my spot, you will pay me half of what you get." He shook the cudgel in her face, and added, "This time I let you live. Next time, you die. Unless you pay me half."

Amanda pushed herself to her feet, towering over her attacker and he stepped back. "I will pay you nothing!" she retorted. "You caught me off guard. This time. Next time, I'll be ready for you," she added, deftly pulling the knife from its hiding place. It glinted in the darkened alley. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I won't use this," she said, taking a swift slice at his ragged jerkin, ripping the material but not touching his skin. "Now, give me back the purse, or I won't just cut into your rags."

The older thief yelped and jumped away, dropping the leather purse. He raised the cudgel threateningly, but the resolute look in Amanda's eyes seemed to change his mind about further violence.

Keeping her eyes on him, Amanda bent to retrieve the purse, and opening it, dropped a coin onto the ground in front of him, saying, "This city is hard enough on all of us without our fighting each other. Peace?" She smiled but the old fellow scowled, and picked up the coin.

"It's everyone for themselves here, girl. Take my advice. You'll live longer. I'm not the only one who's noticed you. Others will come after you too. Get another line of work. There's too many at this already and not enough to go around." With that, he limped out of the alley into the harsh brightness of the Paris streets.

Her earlier exhilaration turned to a cold dread. She had not considered what consequence her intrusion into the nefarious world of thieves would cause. Amanda had ventured into all parts of the city, taking purses and breaking into homes. Now she wondered who else had been watching her movements. Would someone else strike at her as the old fellow had? He was small and weak, but what of others? She glanced down at the knife still clenched in her hand. Would she use it to kill, to defend her life?

Amanda looked around the alley with a new wariness. Each sound, cats or rats foraging in the refuse, seemed stealthy and dangerous. She shuddered and hurried out into the safety of the crowded sunlit street.

*****

"Where do you spend your winters?" Amanda asked the children. It was late fall and their shelter barely kept them warm enough to get a restful sleep. Soon, it would be too cold to remain there.

"Our Grandmama let us stay with her," Therèse replied, her bright face turned up to Amanda.

"You have a grandmother in this city?" Amanda asked, astonished. "Why do you not live with her all the time?"

"She doesn't want us," Jehan said, looking down at his feet. "She says we get in the way of her business. But, last winter, after our mama died, Grandmama kept us in her place until the warm weather. Then she sent us away and said we must fend for ourselves. She couldn't keep us. That's when we met you, Amanda." Jehan grinned up at her and Amanda felt her heart ache for these unwanted children. She knew only too well how that felt.

"We must see your Grandmama and get you a warm place for the winter." As an afterthought, Amanda added, "What business is your grandmother in?"

"She's a whore," Therèse said, innocently adding, "I don't know what that means, but she says we keep business away if we're there." The little girl shrugged as Jehan scowled at her.

"You don't know anything!" he said derisively. "It means that she..."

Amanda clapped her hand over his mouth before he could finish, and said sternly, "You will not tell Therèse such things. They are not for children to hear."

She sighed heavily, wondering if their grandmother would welcome the children back into her home. As bad an environment as it might be, at least it was warm shelter. Perhaps the money that I can give her, will make up for the loss in her trade, at least until the spring.

She had searched for lodgings in Paris but all the available places were already taken, with whole families living in a single tiny room. The children's grandmother seemed their only hope and so they set off into the dim interior of the lowest part of Paris in search of this cold woman who would expose her own kin to a life on the streets. Amanda was not sure what to expect, but as they trudged through the foul alleys, strewn with refuse and excrement, her determination wavered. How could the children live in this filth, among these half-savage people? Hopelessness and resignation was written on the faces of those she passed. Mangy dogs prowled in the garbage, and ragged children played and tussled in the street. Men and women lurched drunkenly down the narrow alley from the wineshops, one woman vomiting almost on Amanda's feet.

Abruptly, she took both their hands and marched back the way they had come. Perhaps, it was better to chance freezing to death than to live like an animal. Somehow, they would survive. Their own grandmother did not want them, but she did, and would protect them with her life.

****

Using cloth stolen from homes and drapers' shops, Amanda lined their tiny shelter to keep out the drafts, providing some protection from chill damp of the Parisian winter. She packed snow around the hovel to insulate it further. Like a cocoon, their home was snug and warm, with only enough space for sleeping. She managed to steal some rough wool and used this for a warm mattress. Though they shivered together through the coldest of the nights, the little family survived.

The caches of money dwindled as the scarcity of food kept the prices high. Amanda and the children subsisted on a meagre diet of fish, bought at the docks, bread, usually stolen, dried apples which Jehan filched from a barrel at the market, cheeses and sausages bought from a farm cart which rattled through the city once a week.

Amanda broke into kitchens of homes in the wealthier districts at night in search of any foods stored in the pantry, and usually found some preserves of fruits or vegetables. Her skill at lockpicking, along with the tools she had fashioned, allowed her access to any place she cared to enter. She had developed the stealth of a cat, and an audacity to match. Driven by need, and emboldened by success, Amanda exulted in her abilities, exhilarated by the risks and her own accomplishments.

The winter was severe but as the season turned toward spring, Amanda began to feel hopeful of a better life for them. She had determined to leave Paris and go back to the village where the healing woman had been so kind to her. The city is no place for these children, she thought. What future lay before them if they stayed here? What would become of Therèse? Would she be forced to become a whore like her grandmother? Amanda's mind recoiled at the thought. No, they must have a better chance. She would take them into the country where there was fresh air, open skies and the beauty of nature, rather than the hot mean streets they had grown up in. Amanda smiled at the thought of her children, running and playing in green, flower-strewn fields, as she had done as a girl. As soon as spring comes and the roads are passable, we will go, she decided.

While daydreaming about the children's future, Amanda wondered about her own. She would give up her life of thievery and do what? Be a dairy maid, shepherdess, farm wife? Sighing heavily, she realized, in spite of the need which drove her, she relished the dangers of her exploits. The thought of settling into a domestic life held no appeal, though she knew it must be so. How else was she to care for her children? Her risks to her own life endangered the children. She was responsible for them.

****

Paris, spring, 850 AD

Word came from the army garrison that the Norsemen were again harrying Rouen and would soon be on the Seine bound for Paris. It was only March but the raiders had already begun their predations along the coast and on the Seine. Amanda's hopes sank. They could not leave the city while the threat of the Norsemen endangered all the villages and towns near the river. Few were spared, not even the children, it was said.

The garrison expanded again as new men-at-arms joined those of the Count of Paris. The city went about its business, new buildings being constructed, repairs to winter damage undertaken. The dull grey of winter burgeoned into the bright green of spring. In spite of the threat of the invaders, the people seemed to have a lightness to their step, and a smile upon their faces. They had survived another winter and felt grateful and glad.

With the re-opening of the markets, Amanda was again able to ply her skills as a cutpurse. Their small hoard of money was nearly gone, and the purses she stole bought much-needed food. She only ventured into this dangerous game when money was low, recalling the attack and warning of the old thief. Her wariness kept her alert to any unusual glances or movements in her direction while she was in one of her disguises, stalking a quarry for a purse. The same heart-pounding excitement and dry-mouthed fear accompanied all her exploits, and the same exhilaration came with each success.

One afternoon in late May, Amanda had slipped down one of the sidestreets into a narrow alley, preparing to tie a newly-acquired purse to her own belt. Too late, she saw the man step out of a doorway, to confront her. Behind her, more stealthy sounds alerted her to the presence of others. Her hand slid to the knife and she waited, her eyes fixed on the man. He was tall and emaciated, lank dark hair straggled down to his shoulders, a deep scar ran the length of his cheek, disappearing into his unkempt beard. His clothing was ragged, barely covering his starved body. Dark feverish eyes glared at her, glancing at the purse, and back to her face.

He nodded and Amanda felt someone grab her arms, twisting them painfully behind her. Without struggling, she waited.

"You should've taken old Henri's advice, girl. You had fair warning what would happen if you meddle in our territory. Now you'll pay. Take the purse, Guy." From behind, the purse was wrenched from her hand. "You're a comely thing," the man added, leering at her breasts which were tightly outlined by her pinioned arms. "We'll have some pleasure with you before we kill you."

He reached toward her breasts and as he touched her, Amanda brought her knee into his groin, and twisted out of the grasp of the other two men. Her knife flashed out and she wielded it at the throat of her prostrate attacker. "Come any closer, and he'll have a new scar in a more fatal place. Drop the purse and get out of here."

The sudden blow to the back of her head knocked her to the ground, leaving her semi-conscious so she hardly felt the kicks and punches that rained onto her inert body. A blissful darkness took her away from the horror and she heard and felt nothing.

Awakening, Amanda was disoriented and racked by pain. Struggling to stand, she realized she had some broken ribs as an exquisite agony sliced through her, making her catch her breath. That seemed to be the worst injury, other than the cuts and bruises all over her body. She staggered from the alley, holding onto anything she could find for support.

Somehow, she dragged herself back to the embankment, where, dipping the hem of her gown into the river, she tried to wipe the blood from her swollen lip and cool the bruises on her face. She felt someone touch her shoulder and flinched in terror, only to look up into Jehan's worried eyes. When he saw her face, he cried out and hugged her.

Putting his thin little arms around her shoulders, he looked at her searchingly, his pale blue eyes wise beyond their years. "Amanda," he said urgently. "Promise me you won't be a cutpurse anymore. It's too dangerous. When I get bigger, I'll join the army and I'll marry you. I'll protect you and no one will hurt you again. Promise me! Please!" he begged.

Amanda held him closely, overcome by love for this child who had, with his sister, become all the world to her, and whispered, "I promise, Jehan." As she held him, she wondered how she would provide for them now.

****

The spring melted into one of the hottest, most sultry summers anyone could remember. Even the Norse invaders seemed half-hearted and languid. A hefty bribe of money and land deterred them from raiding Paris. Perhaps they were glad to return to the cooler northern climes, leaving the Parisians to bake in their fetid streets.

And those streets bred disease which struck with suddenness and spared no one. The charnel carts plied the crowded warrens in the early mornings, picking up victims who were left by the doorways. The drivers painted large whitewashed X's on the doors to warn others of plague within.

Amanda, incapacitated by her healing ribs, was unable to fetch food or money. She could not go on her night excursions into the homes of the wealthy. Chafing at the inactivity, she worried about how to feed her children. They were down to the last cache of money and after that...she did not know.

Little Therèse had a plan of her own. No one noticed a tiny tot hanging around, as they dragged the bodies of plague victims out of the houses and off to the charnel-carts. All she had to do was wait until the men left, and sneak into the house to filch whatever she could lay her hands on, especially food. She didn't tell Jehan or Amanda how she was getting these things. She was so pleased at being able to fend for herself at only eight years old, she wanted to keep her methods a secret. When they tried to pry it out of her, she finally gave in.

The smile disappeared abruptly from Amanda's face when Therèse explained where she was getting the food and other things. "You mustn't go into those places, Therèse," she scolded sternly. "The air is poisoned with plague. Never do that again!"

Therèse's lip quivered. Her beloved Amanda had never spoken harshly to her before, and she only wanted to help. The air in those houses seemed like everywhere else. She did not understand what the fuss was about. A tear slid down her pale cheek as Amanda hugged her closely. "I love you, Therèse," she said gently, "I don't want you to get sick, that's all."

A few days later, Amanda woke to the sound of coughing. Therèse was choking, her body so hot it seemed to burn Amanda's hand as she touched the girl.

"Oh, God no," she whispered, shivering with terror, as she looked into Therèse's fever bright eyes.

"I don't feel good, Amanda," the child gasped. She lolled back on Amanda's cloak, her body shaking with ague. "I'm so cold."

Jehan, too, was shivering as he came awake. His forehead was hot, and his eyes unnaturally bright. Amanda wrapped both children in her cloak, almost paralysed by fear. What could she do? As far as she knew, there was no cure. The plague ran its course and you either lived or died.

But she must do something, try something, anything. Gathering the children into her cloak, she picked them up. They were heavy and she staggered under their combined weight. She stepped out of their shelter in the cemetery, and struggled onto the street.

It was early morning, and the sun had not yet risen to burn off the fog that clung to the gravestones and monuments. Just ahead was an old church where Amanda felt sure she would find help for the sick children.

Stopping in front of the church, she set the children gently on the steps and went up to try the door. It was locked. She pulled a piece of metal from a pocket in her gown and twisted it in the lock until the tumblers clicked into place, then opened the church door.

Inside the church was cool, and Amanda shivered slightly as she walked down toward the chancel. The odour of incense and candlewax was comforting, as it permeated the atmosphere of this church the same as her own village church. It was the comfort of familiarity. She suddenly felt homesick for her village. It had been over a year since she left home. But the quiet of the church gave rise to a keen nostalgia for her former life, in spite of its problems—mostly of her own making, she had to admit. Her worst problems seemed minor compared to this. At least then, she had a roof over her head and enough to eat.

Standing at the chancel, gazing at the sacred carvings, Amanda wondered if anyone she had known ever gave any thought to her. Did they worry over her at all, or was she just forgotten? She felt oppressed by her own thoughts and by the gloomy visages staring down from the walls.

The church seemed empty, and Amanda was about to retrace her steps when a cassocked priest emerged from the sacristy, and halted with an astonished look on his face.

"How did you get in here?" he said suspiciously. His brown cassock hung over an ample belly, girdled by a rope belt that emphasized his girth. He narrowed his eyes as he took in Amanda's appearance, a gaunt figure wearing a patched gown with tangled black hair. His disdainful glance told her what he thought she was.

Amanda didn't care what he thought. Her concern was for Jehan and Therèse, lying outside, sick with the plague. "Father," she began respectfully, "I need the Church's help. I have two sick children outside and they will die unless they get some care, some warmth and food. Please, will you help me?"

A horrified look crossed his face and he stepped back as if preparing to escape. "You've brought your sick brats here?" he shrieked. "You've brought plague to my very doorstep. How dare you! Get out!"

"What good is this place!" Amanda rasped harshly, gesturing around at the church. She advanced menacingly on the priest, who seemed transfixed by this brazen woman. "What good is this huge building that is kept locked against the very people who need it? You could shelter dozens in here overnight against the cold. Instead they freeze to death outside. With the money spent on those gold ornaments on the altar, you could feed many needy families. Instead you take from the poor to fatten yourself. How dare I?" she yelled, her voice echoing from the vaulted ceiling. "How dare you call this place a house of God, when you shun his creatures and leave them to die?"

A stinging slap brought her up abruptly. The priest glared balefully, and snarled, "You are damned. A blasphemer in the house of God. Get out of my church!" He turned on his heel and re-entered the sacristy, jerking the velvet curtain across the door.

Amanda remained rooted to the spot, striving for composure. She shook in every limb, panting with outrage. She felt close to murder. With a ragged breath, she went out of the church. The sun was rising and the streets were starting to be busy.

The children were gone from the steps! Her cloak lay empty and Jehan and Therèse were nowhere to be seen. In a panic, she dashed up to the first person she saw, an old street cleaner pushing a barrow of manure.

"Did you see two little children," she asked the man. "They're about eight and nine years old. I had left them there on the church steps."

"They was took away on the charnel cart. Dead." He gave Amanda an appraising glance, sadly shook his head and pushed on by, without another word.

Amanda snatched up her cloak and ran toward the bridge. The charnel cart carried the plague victims out of the city to a charnel pit some distance away. Perhaps she catch the cart before they crossed the bridge. It was a mistake! Jehan and Therèse couldn't be dead!

****

The cart made many stops. It had been a bad night and the dead were left at doorways and on the streets. The cart was filling up fast and the driver was in a hurry to get to the pit before the sun got much hotter. He was inured to grief-stricken relatives as they watched parents, children, siblings being hauled away to an unmarked grave. Saddest of all, were the children. Their pinched little faces watching as mothers and fathers died from plague, and left them behind to fend for themselves. He consoled himself with the thought that they wouldn't last long. Like the two tykes he had just picked up from the church steps, left there no doubt to receive the last rites. He had considered taking the cloak but decided against it. Plague-ridden too, probably.

Amanda raced along the embankment toward the bridge. The cart was in sight! She neared the charnel-cart, which had stopped while the driver picked up another body. The stench nearly overwhelmed her. Her breath seared her lungs as she strove for air.

There they were. The bright blue eyes open and staring at the sky. Amanda touched the little faces and tenderly closed their eyes, never more open to sun or to twinkle with childish laughter. Jehan and Therèse, her children.

The cart driver gave her a moment to bid them farewell, his tear-misted eyes averted, then he clucked the horse into motion. Amanda followed the cart in a daze as it crossed the bridge, stopping about half-way. She didn't want to see anymore.

Paralysed by grief, she stood on the bridge, unseeing, unthinking. Her whole world gone.

Without conscious thought, Amanda climbed onto the parapet, wavering and staring into the river. It seemed to draw her, inviting her to plunge into its murky depths. People passed by, gave her an uncaring glance and continued on. They had witnessed this scene before, despair driving the tormented to end their lives in the river. Nothing anyone could do.

Nearly losing her balance, she jumped back onto the bridge. "I must choose life," echoed in her mind, recalling the last time she had made this choice. Numbly, she crossed the bridge into the city.

She found their favourite place on the embankment, crouched, holding herself tightly, and watched the river flow by. Dry-eyed, she stared. She couldn't even weep, just rocked herself back and forth in an agony of loss. Hours passed, the sun beat on her back and she remained by the river, as if keeping a vigil.

****

A chill breeze off the Seine made her shiver. Amanda pulled herself from her cramped position and stood up. It was nearly dark. Paris was a dangerous place at night. She always made sure the children were safe in their hide-away before nightfall.

Amanda could not return to their former haven. She was shielding herself from the grief that threatened to drive her mad with despair, with the urge to revenge all the afflictions she had suffered. She could not think about this, she must get on the move, do something.

As she ventured along the darkened streets, Amanda heard a stealthy sound behind her. A hand reached around her neck, trying to constrict her breathing into unconsciousness. An unreasoning anger flashed through her as she kicked her assailant's shin and she heard him yelp. Turning quickly, she kneed his groin and he went down. He was a filthy lad of about seventeen, and as desperate as she. A cudgel was tied to his belt. Amanda grasped it and threatened him with its heavy wooden end.

"I'm keeping this for protection. Next time you try anything, I'll break your head with it." He quailed from the heavy club she waved near his head, but mostly from the deadly coldness in those eyes. She stalked off into the night with her new weapon hanging ready at her side.

She had feared the night. Now she didn't. Careless of danger, Amanda walked where she wished, almost hoping for a challenge. She had chosen life, and she would deal death to anyone who tried to take it. A victim no more, she vowed with a cold smile at the night.

****

Her fortunes changed a little in the weeks of late fall. Where she had previously protected her own life as a responsibility to Jehan and Therèse, she now exercised more cunning and boldness. Her thefts were increasingly more valuable, larger, more daring. She stole goods from merchants in broad daylight, using her intimate knowledge of the city to escape and hide. The silversmiths and goldsmiths were her favourite sources of merchandise. She filched goblets and plate, usually undetected, as she slipped the items into a secret pocket she had sewn into her cloak.

Amanda discovered the underworld through which she could turn stolen goods into cash. They were a gang of cutthroats and thieves, but several soon learned she could be as ruthless as they. Some had felt the business end of her cudgel when they tried to threaten her or steal from her. One look into those cold dark eyes was enough warning of danger.

****

As winter approached, the plague seemed to have run its course. Fewer victims were carted away and the city settled down as the Norsemen had retreated to their own homelands. Peasants returned to their farms and the garrison was disbanded except for the Count of Paris' own guard.

Amanda had been using the thronged streets to cover her escapes from enraged merchants who discovered they'd been robbed. With the city emptying, it became more difficult to perpetrate her thefts and get away. In keeping with her promise to Jehan, Amanda confined her thefts to merchandise and jewellery.

In early November, Amanda had been strolling through the streets of merchants in a part of town she did not usually frequent. She passed several shops, casually looking over their wares. In the mullioned windows of the silversmith's, she noticed a particularly fine goblet. A crafty smile crossed her lips.

She went into the shop, and the smith eyed her suspiciously. With her filthy appearance and ragged garb, she was obviously not a customer. Amanda suddenly bent double and began to choke. "The plague," she gasped. "Help me!"

The terrified smith ran into the street, looking for someone to drag her out of his shop. Amanda, chuckled and picked up the goblet, then staggered out of the shop, and passing the silversmith, abruptly broke into a run, laughing wildly. He gave chase and was soon joined by others in a hue and cry after her.

A few turns into various streets failed to lose the vigilantes. She spied a body being taken from a house and the plague symbol X being drawn onto its door. She dashed to the entrance and disappeared inside. Panting and giggling, she looked over her new treasure. It would be worth at least a month's food, possibly more.

On the table was a loaf of bread. She was hungry and decided that the former owner wouldn't be needing it. Picking it up, she tucked the loaf under her cloak, munching on a hunk, and slipped back outside. She heard nothing and hoped she had lost her pursuers.

As she crept away from the house, someone shouted, "There she is!" They were only paces away and someone hit her with a heavy club. The silversmith retrieved his goblet and gave Amanda a rough push with his foot.

"Is she dead?" a voice asked. Another answered, "Soon will be. Toss her onto the charnel cart."

Amanda felt the light fading and thought, this is death. As her consciousness ebbed, she saw a vision, the red-haired lady from the abbey, riding her white horse, a drawn sword in her hand. She reached out to the vision in a final gesture as her life slipped away. The last sound she heard was, "Leave her!" Then the darkness of death claimed her.

****

Amanda's head was humming and painful. A soft cloth brushed her forehead and she opened her eyes. Confused, she looked into the pale green eyes of the lady with the red hair. Amanda took in her surroundings, bewildered by how she came here or where she was. Was she not dead?

"Are you an angel?" she asked hesitantly.

The woman laughed lightly, her tone not mocking, just amused. "No, I'm not an angel. I'm Rebecca Horne, and this is my castle," she answered, gesturing around the brightly lit room.

The brightness hurt her eyes a little, and she squinted against the pain it gave her head. That persistent humming. She wished it would stop.

The room was large enough for several families, Amanda thought. The furnishings were expensive, beautiful. The bed she was lying on was soft, covered in fine white linen, its bedstead of dark oak. The canopy and drapery surrounding the bed were white brocade fringed all around. Next to the bed was a table on which a brass candlestick held a flickering candle. Large wooden chests and small casks were placed against the stone walls. Tapestries hung upon the walls, their rich colours accenting the warmth of the whole room. Candles gleamed from many sconces along the walls. Such an extravagance! Even at Gilbert's manor, Amanda had never seen such wealth.

"What's your name," Rebecca asked kindly.

"Amanda," she replied, sliding off the bed.

She felt out of her depth here, wondering if she was in some kind of trouble. Had the silversmith given her over to this lady? What did she want? She glanced at Rebecca. Her rich gown and elegant manner made Amanda feel more keenly the difference between them, the lady and the thief. With a certain hauteur, Amanda squared her shoulders and wandered about the room. There were many valuable things laying about, begging to be picked up. A nice pewter goblet, for instance. Amanda stuffed it into her gown, keeping her back to Rebecca. That should fetch a good price, she thought as she surveyed the room for other small items she could easily hide.

Rebecca's voice hardened a little as she said, "Amanda, your life is about to change, beyond your wildest imaginings. But first, put back that thing you've taken." Amanda set the goblet back in its place, and turned, waiting for the blow or the harsh rebuke.

More gently, Rebecca added, "You have no need to steal from me. From now on, and for as long as you need it, this is your home. I will be your teacher."

"What are you going to teach me?" Amanda asked with an insolent edge to her voice. She rubbed her forehead. The humming seemed to be receding somewhat.

"About reading and books, how to defend yourself with a sword. Many things." Rebecca watched the girl as she warily tried to understand what was happening to her.

"Books are for monks, and swords are for soldiers. What do I want to learn that for?" Amanda's seeming insouciance hid her terror. She thought she had died, and now she was here in this sumptuous room. What did it signify? Was this heaven?

"Amanda, what I'm about to tell you will seem unreal, like a fable. But it is an actual fact." Rebecca drew a breath, pausing to make sure she had Amanda's attention. "You were dead. Now you are alive. You are like me, an Immortal."

Rebecca had to admire her composure. Amanda was holding herself very still, her eyes calculating as she waited for whatever fate had in store. Rebecca had never seen anyone take what she had just told Amanda with so much stoicism. Or more likely, she did not believe it. Who could blame her? Rebecca tried again.

"That blow to your head killed you. That is how your immortality is triggered, by violent death. From this day forward, you can never die, never be ill and never grow any older. If you will permit me, I will be your teacher, and your friend."

Amanda raised her eyes to stare at Rebecca and she recoiled slightly. Those cold black eyes chilled her to the marrow, and she wondered what she was taking on herself. What had happened to this young girl that she would be so wary of kindness, of overtures of friendship? There was no sign of gratitude or trust in those glacial eyes, just suspicion, and a sense she was waiting for something. But what? The trap to be sprung? An unkindness or a blow?

Rebecca was at a loss for a moment, and considered this student might be too much. Or even worse, turn on her. That had happened to others in the past. Would Amanda prove to be the viper one has taken to her breast? Better to turn her out now, or find her another teacher. But there was something about Amanda that Rebecca sensed under that armour she seemed to have built around herself. A certain vulnerability, fear. Perhaps, with kindness and time, Amanda might come to trust her.

She made her decision.

"I have had a bath drawn for you, Amanda. It is beyond that drapery, in a small room. Here is a robe, and a shift for you to sleep in. This is your room for as long as you stay here. Tomorrow, we will start your training."

The bathing room held a large copper tub filled with warm water. Amanda trailed her hand in its scented warmth, inhaling the moist fragrance. With a glance at Rebecca who remained in the other room, she pulled the damask drapery across and disrobing, slid into the bath. It was an exquisite pleasure to be immersed in water, to be clean. Not since she had lived in the manor as Gilbert's mistress, had Amanda been able to bathe like this. How long ago was that? She tried to remember. A lifetime ago, she laughed to herself.

A lifetime. Immortality. What did this Rebecca think she was, a fool? She snorted derisively at the thought of immortality. What a cruel joke! She had survived a blow to the head before, and she had done so again. What did this woman want? A servant, a serf? Well, she thought to herself, I will get out of here as soon as may be. But not empty-handed. With that, Amanda chuckled and slipped under the water and washed her hair until it shone.

The shift and robe smelled of lavender. Amanda drew in the fragrance with pleasure. It would be so easy to fall into this trap, she warned herself, with all these fine things around. She said this is my home, so these must be my things. I will take them with me. They will fetch a good price.

"Well, you certainly don't look like the girl we brought in here earlier today," Rebecca said, looking up as Amanda entered the bedroom. "You look quite radiant, and lovely. Use the combs and brushes I have laid out for you."

Amanda moved to a low dressing table by the wall, over which hung a large mirror. She caught her breath at the image reflected by its silvery surface. She touched her face, then her hair and she stared.

Rebecca came to stand beside her. "Have you never seen your reflection before?"

Amanda looked from the reflection of Rebecca to that of herself. Both were tall, Amanda slightly more so, and both beautiful. She recalled what Yolande had said about the noble ladies of the manor being jealous of her beauty. Now she could see it for herself. She was as shaken by this revelation, as she was fascinated by the image of herself. Long black hair, a pale complexion and very dark eyes. Her face was somewhat thin, she thought, and her body too angular from lack of food.

"I shall have to remove this mirror," Rebecca laughed, "it will make you quite vain."

Wonderingly, Amanda said, "I had no idea of what I looked like. It is like seeing a stranger for the first time." She smiled shyly, a bit disarmed, and continued, "You are a beautiful lady, Rebecca."

"And so are you, Amanda. You'll be even more so, when you have gained a bit of weight. You are much too thin. Let us begin to remedy that right away. I have ordered a meal for you to be sent up when you have finished your bath. Do you wish to eat now?"

****

Amanda lay in the soft bed, listening to the castle sounds quieten. As soon as everyone was abed, and asleep, she would slip away. She wondered what they had done with her cloak. Probably it was it the great hall. It contained all her worldly possessions, save the silver coin she could never bring herself to spend. That still resided in the hem of her gown.

Comfortably replete, she reviewed with pleasure the meal of which she had partaken before retiring. A variety of dishes were laid before her, bowls of meats in fragrant sauces, vegetables still crisp and savoury, fruits and compotes. Amanda ate gluttonously, not knowing when she would ever see such foods again. The offer of wines she had declined, but had quaffed several glasses of cider.

If she could find the kitchen, she decided, she would try to take some of the leavings from her meal. She had been unable to eat everything, as much as she had tried.

She recalled Rebecca's gentle jibe. "I did not mean for you to gain all your weight in one sitting." Well she might laugh, Amanda thought angrily, she has probably never known real hunger.

The castle was still and silent as she stole out of the bedroom, dressed again in her own gown which had been washed while she was unconscious. Amanda searched for the coin and found it was still in its hiding place.

As she slipped along the torch-lit corridor, she saw a room with several chests and casks. That looks promising, she decided, and entered. In a small cask sitting atop a larger one, she found what looked like a group of precious stones. She won't miss one, Amanda thought, as she pulled one of the crystals from its case. She slipped out of the room and down a flight of stone steps that led to the great hall.

That accursed humming again, she thought miserably, I must have been hit very hard. Shaking her head to clear it, she continued toward the landing. And stopped abruptly.

Rebecca's green eyes glittered with fury. She held a sword and looked as if she meant to use it. Amanda quaked, waiting for the sword stroke that would end her life. It was Rebecca's right to defend her property. For a second, neither spoke nor moved.

"How dare you steal from me!" Rebecca hissed. "You have no need to take what will be yours by right. Hand it over!"

Watching Rebecca's sword hand warily, Amanda stepped forward and gave up the crystal. Her eyes betrayed what she expected, a punishment or death. That desperate, fearful expression tore at Rebecca's heart and she lowered her sword.

"I will not punish you, Amanda," she said softly. "I forgive you."

Amanda's reaction was so unexpected, Rebecca did not know at first how to deal with it.

"You forgive me?" Amanda whispered incredulously. Her eyes widened, and she trembled, wavering uncertainly as if she would fall. "You forgive me?" she asked again.

"Yes. Has no one in your life ever forgiven you?"

"No," Amanda replied, shivering with emotion. "No one." She began to sink toward the floor and Rebecca moved quickly to intercept her.

Rebecca took Amanda into an embrace and found herself supporting all her weight as she collapsed, sobbing on her shoulder. Tears prickled behind Rebecca's eyes as she wondered again about Amanda's previous life. What horrors had she witnessed, what wrongs had been done her? She worried about the power of immortality being gifted to one who might use it for revenge.

When she had exhausted her tears, Rebecca took Amanda back to her room and tucked her into the clean linen sheets. She kissed her forehead as the girl closed her eyes.

"Sleep now, Amanda. Tomorrow is the beginning of your true life."

The End

©The Fledgling - Maril Swan - December 1999

Please send your comments on this story to the author - Maril Swan