Searching ... Part 5

Mother and Father were a mixture of all the children. Mother had Jani’s auburn hair, medium gray eyes and creamy skin with a small smattering of freckles on her nose. She was taller and thinner than Father, which made the children giggle when they were young but which they took for granted as each of them grew. She was a natural teacher often staying a half step ahead of a child in a subject they found interesting but that she had not studied in depth.

She was gracefully athletic even after seven children and encouraged the children to participate together and separately in physical activities such as riding with and without tack, sitting or standing, and shooting arrows at targets, dancing (which they all giggled about but found useful at festivals), and various games with balls that they had to make up themselves. She and Father both insisted on concentration and control in everything by making each activity relevant to the children’s special interests.

Father was solidly built, black haired, velvety brown eyed, and nut brown of skin. His hands seemed unusually large for a man his size yet could be as delicate as Mothers when she soothed a crying baby. He also read every book that came into their house. He enjoyed the life of a farmer and craftsman, though he had had the opportunity when he was younger to go to the capital for advanced studies. Father chose to live far from cities and bring his children up to be able to protect themselves from any possible border bandits. Father was not a supporter of the present leaders of the land. It would be very dangerous to voice his opinions of the king and court so he insisted that his children learn to think for themselves.

At the end of schooling time the children went quietly outside while Mother gathered papers and books. They all went out to the orchard and sat down in a circle. They all looked at Ifor, as the oldest, to begin the discussion they had been aching to have for the past three hours.

“Jani left her bed and went off with Aunt Katja in the middle of the night” said Ifor.

“How do you know that?” asked Magda.

“One of the horses was having a tough time foaling and I was in the barn with her” explained Ifor. “I stepped out to have a look at the stars and stretch after being crouched down for so long. They climbed out the bedroom window and went off down the path toward Aunt’s house. I watched for a while then followed. There was a strange light surrounding Katja’s house, as if she was protecting it with magic.”

“Magic” exclaimed Magda. “Isn’t that just in stories?”

“No,” said Elka, “Mother taught me some charms and spells to keep pests out of the garden. She explained that magic was found only in certain people with specific talents. I was to keep it to myself until the rest of you got older and she was sure of your talents, so she could teach you what you could use.”

“But I’m almost 13,” Magda shouted. “I should be learning magic!”

“Well, maybe Mother thought you didn’t need any, since you’re so good at what you do already” said Timor, the peacekeeper.

“Yes, I am very good at what I do, but there’s so much more I could do if I didn’t need three or four hands.”

Everyone laughed and Magda let the subject drop. She was like a summer storm; big blow and sudden calm.

Ifor continued to tell them what he saw before their sister and aunt entered the house. He hadn’t had time or opportunity to mention it to their parents yet. Besides, he preferred to discuss it with his siblings. They were very close despite their differences in temper and outlook. They all seemed to compliment each other when they were together. They laughed more, though, when Jani was with them.

They all sat under the old, twisted apple trees thinking their own thoughts. There was a breeze gently rustling the leaves against the ripe fruit. Soon the trees would be bare of apples and the leaves would be getting tired and crackle in the winds of the winter that was approaching. Ifor would soon be serving his apprenticeship with the blacksmith. The others had similar thoughts. Change was inevitable, as farm children learned very young. Often change caught them by surprise, as they did today.

“Well, we have two choices,” said Elka, “we can keep what we know to ourselves and wait to see what Mother and Father do or we can ask them what is going on. I’m all for the direct approach. We should just ask them and wait to see what they tell us.”

Everyone seemed to agree, except Timor, who was weaving together twigs and grasses into a complicated something no one could figure out. Luka nudged his brother, as usual when Timor was lost in his own head, and Timor nodded.

“If that’s what you all think is best,” he said absently.

Everyone chuckled. Timor being absent minded was always good for lightening the atmosphere. He knew they weren’t laughing at him unkindly but with affection.

Presently they all wandered away to pursue their own activities, though Timor remained under the trees, building whatever it was he saw in his mind. His fingers were nimble and sure as he made what began to look like  a box of apple tree twigs with sweet grasses woven in an intricate design of the trees around him.

He thought it would be a good present for Magda to keep her handkerchiefs in. He would let the grasses and twigs dry a bit first, though. She wouldn’t appreciate grass stains on her fine linen squares. They were expensive and could only be acquired twice a year during festival when dealers in all kinds of things came from all over the country to sell and trade what the farmers and villagers couldn’t make for themselves.