The Passion of Dolssa (45 page)

We ran. Each step was hope. But there wasn’t much. In no time at all, they were after us.

Symo dragged me along. Sazia shook off his hand, but we held tightly together.

We were losing. My
s
rres
couldn’t keep Symo’s pace. The soldiers’ cries reached our ears. I stopped. Symo’s pull almost knocked me over.

Separate yourselves.

The thought came so suddenly, I paused and turned to look for Dolssa. It felt like her voice. Or, rather, like the sense I’d had of where to find her, and how to help her, that night we met. I didn’t question it.

“Together we’re no match for them,” I told the others. “We must separate and hide. It’s our only chance.”

I felt Plazi and Sazia nod, but Symo would not have it.

“No!” He tugged harder on my hand. “We’ll never find each other.”

“We will,” Plazi said. “We sisters can always find each other.”

“Daybreak,” Sazia said. “The cove, near where the wild grapes grow.”

“Where’s that?” Symo demanded. My sisters had already gone, opposite ways, quiet as cats.

“A league or more, south of town,” I said, and took off.

He followed me. “I’m not leaving you, Botille.”

“You must, you great ox!” I hissed. “You’ll get us both killed!”

He let out a growl like an angry dog, then disappeared into the shadows.

I ran while I could, then dropped to my knees and crept forward. I listened for any sound. Terrifying noises filled my head. Were they coming closer? Had they caught one of my sisters? I couldn’t tell what was real and what was my own fright. I crawled on.

My knees were raw, my hands bleeding. I came to a rocky patch and found a gap underneath where two chalky boulders rested against each other. I climbed into the narrow tunnel and lay there, listening to my breath and my heart. Far away, and farther still, searchers crashed about and called to one another, but I never heard a shout of triumph. With that sliver of comfort, I flung one prayer out upon the nighttime breeze.

Oh, sisters, oh, Symo. Be safe tonight, and hide well, until we meet in the morning.

Senhor Hugo’s fall, and Dolssa’s kiss. Jobau the hero, now surely dead. Symo’s whispered words to me. Jacme, Andrio, and Astruga’s betrayal. Saura’s tears, and Na Pieret’s firewood.

Dolssa, descending into the flames. For us.

I clutched Mamà’s crucifix between my finger and thumb.

Life, love, neighbors, belonging. Friend, father. Town and home, peace and good name. All smoke and ashes.

BOTILLE

rocked to sleep in my mamà’s arms.

“Who’s my girl?” whispered she. “Who’s my pretty girl?” I nestled down into her comforting lap, and let her put me to sleep.

I woke in the expectant dark just before dawn. Small creatures smelled the morning coming, and as their bellies woke them, they woke me.

Time to go find Sazia, Plazensa, and Symo.

No hunters, no soldiers, disturbed the early peace. Each footfall that went unanswered by a pursuer’s chase made me bolder. I followed the scent of
la mar
and picked my way carefully over low paths toward the coast.

My sisters would find me at the cove, I felt absolutely sure. Perhaps it is strange that I felt no fear, but truly, I did not. The sense we had of each other, that we’d always had, from Mamà, knowing each other’s thoughts, each other’s hearts, blazed full force. My sisters were alive and well. We would find each other and run away together.
Oc
, we had lost all we’d worked to build in Bajas, and we would mourn our Jobau. But we’d be together.

I picked my way down a small gully where rainwater trickled into the sea, and found myself at the shore. From there it was a walk of some distance, hugging close to trees and other concealments near the waterline, until I reached Sazia’s cove.

The sun began to lighten the eastern horizon. I looked about for any sign of the others, but made no sound. I sat and concealed myself among the snarled, wild vines, and watched and waited.

Dawn was a long time. It could be they still slept. I waited and watched the sun climb the sky through the cool shelter of wild grape leaves.

Morning birds pipped at one another. They pecked at snails in the shallows. Insects buzzed around my feet. Small fish broke the water’s surface to snap at bugs. If Mimi were here, I thought, she’d catch one.

I slurped water from trickling gullies, and picked at wild sour grapes.

Perhaps they, or I, had found the wrong spot. I ranged up and down the beach, defying enemies to find me, hoping my sisters and Symo would. Fishing boats passed by now and then, but I hid from view. Word spreads quickly from port to port, and I needed no spies telling tales of me.

Symo. The things I had to say to him! How dare he, for one thing, and where did he come off, for another, and what made him think he had any right, for thirds. What rich delight I would take in telling him what I really thought of his bad temper, his thick eyebrows, and his nerve.

But he never came. Nor did my
s
rres
. I waited there for three whole days.

What if they were somewhere near? Hurt, stuck, afraid? At night I roved as far afield as I dared, softly calling out their names. No one ever answered, though dogs would bark, and creatures scuttle. More than once I was almost discovered by peasants, but the
bon Dieu
kept me hidden from view. Not only was I removed from my own people. Now I was invisible to them.

I searched but found no sign that any of them had ever come. I dozed and dreamed, and woke thinking I’d heard Plazensa’s bracelets. Sazia’s low voice. Symo chewing on a plate of dinner.

The fourth morning I rose up and walked away, heading south and inland, far from the spying eyes of the sea.

BOTILLE

ights grew colder. I had only my dress. I stole a shawl that an old woman had hung to dry on a bush. I felt bad for her sake, but not enough to return it. Back to thieving again.

At first I found food. Harvesttime meant gleanings and pickings could be had in any garden plot. I slept at midday, when it was warmest, then traveled by twilight and early morning. I searched for my family, and I hid from passersby. If my family were still alive, they, too, would be hiding from the eyes of strangers, blending into their surroundings. We might pass one another on the same road and never know it.