A Doomed Kingdom

TWO; EARLIER

It is not the chirping birds or the c**k crow. 

that wakes you at morn.

it is the joy of family and hope

of the morning's sun.

Tara woke up before sunrise and began to grind the little wheat that would be used for breakfast that morning. She would mix a little porridge with the left-over oats from yesterday's super for Moey and Starc. Farah was older now, thirteen summers -- almost grown up. He was big enough to understand hunger, to know what she and Mama had to sacrifice every day to put food on the table.

As she ground the wheat, she sang to herself. A song her grandmother had always sang to her before she passed, about large green meadows and houses that were so beautiful, they could not be described. Of men who rode horses and clothes made of iron so that even the butcher's heavy knife could not pierce through it. Of knives so beautiful, strong and sharp, they were actually called swords and of kingdoms. Of a world were men decided their own fate. Her grandmama us usually kept quiet whenever Mama came around with her eyes sharp and searching, as if to make sure she had not been singing to Tara.

Tara had always wondered why her Mama forbade grandmother from singing to her but each time she asked, her Mama had always scolded her, swatting her ear and then sending her off to do some house chore. Once her mother's brothers had visited for the week of consolation after her father had been taken in a hunt and Tara had been washing clothes outside, forgetting herself, she had broken out into her grandmother's song, her young voice rich and clear, carrying in the quiet evening and her uncles had snatched her up from the stone she sat on, fear written on their faces as they had made her swear never to sing such a song again. Tara had looked up into the scared faces of her uncles, her mother's brothers who were known for their bravery and she had felt the cold hands of fear seize her little heart. She had sworn, never to sing such a song again or talk about freedom and the glories of the past as she had been told to, without understanding what any of it meant, and then her Mama had taken her in for s******g. She still didn't understand it now but -- each time she woke, early in the morning, with the hope for a sunny day and the knowledge that her family slept safe within the house, she sang her grandmother's song.

''Are you singing again Tara.'' Farah said as he stumbled out from the house still a bit sleepy. ''You know Ma said not to.''

''Good morning to you too Farah.'' Tara scolded. ''You. know better than to start a conversation in the morning without first wishing one a good morn. It would be your first dance season soon and you still haven't learned your manners.''

'' It's not my dancing season -- dancing season is for girls. We men only go to make sure they don't get so bored out there by themselves. You're just angry with me cause I caught you singing grandmother's song.'' He came to stand behind her, peering at what she was grinding. ''Oh! Tara, tell me we are not having that miserable amount of wheat for breakfast, I'm still starving because of yesterday's half meal.''

''Well then hurry up and start your apprenticeship. That way you'll get to eat at your master's house, we'll see if it's any better than this.'' Tara snapped. The truth was that Farah was right, she was angry with him because he had caught her singing. He could not like she said, hurry up and start his apprenticeship, the apprenticeship season started only after the dance season.

He had been chosen as apprentice to the Goldsmith, one of the highest professions in Mistera especially because only one Goldsmith was allowed to set up profession at a time so that one would have to wait till the present Goldsmith passed before he could start his own profession, usually inheriting the former Goldsmith shop.

Even though it meant that Farah may not start his profession even after he completed his apprenticeship, being a Goldsmith was one of the most prestigious works, second only to the council members and Tara was proud. Farah however was too impatient, he couldn't wait for his years under the Goldsmith to start, so much that he didn't even care about the dance season, the talk of most boys his age.

The dance season was really only one week of merriment when young teenage girls dressed in their prettiest gowns and put flowers in their hair. It ended with a night of dance, outside, under the moon light and with a bonfire nearby. At that moment, even the creatures of the lore left them alone.

She remembered her first dance season. She had been hopeful and young. She had heard whispers even then of how she was the most beautiful girl in Mistera and she had taught that with beauty, it wouldn't be too hard to find love, but then Councilor Mogo Sho had declared he was going to marry her when his sick wife passed and all the boys her age had avoided her like a plague. His wife was still alive, and Tara was still as lonely as ever, hoping that the strength of Mistera preserved the life of the councilor's wife so that she outlived even Tara herself -- but each new summer, as she watched her mates get married, start families and their own kids, she wondered what it might be like to be married, even if it we're to Councilor Mogo sho.

''Your mind is not here.'' Farah said not unkindly. He must have seen the look of sadness in her eyes. He sat down beside her and rubbed her shoulder a bit as if to reassure her, but he did not say it would be all right, how could he know what Mistera had planned? ''I came out so you could tell me what to do for the morning.'' He said instead and she rested her head briefly on his shoulder. Very soon he would be gone to live with the Goldsmith, and it would just be her and Mama left with the children.

''You can go and fetch water. Both of our giant pails are empty.'' She finally instructed.

After Farah had gone, she gathered the wheat that she had ground just as Starc and Moey came rushing out of the front door. Moey ran to her with the utter abandon of a child, throwing herself around Tara. ''Good morning Tara... Oh I had the most pleasant dreams this night and when I woke, there was a Robin at my window. Did the robin give me that dream?'' She asked, tilting up her head to look at Tara.

''No.'' Tara answered, tweaking Moey's nose with her free hand. ''You got those dreams because you're a real good, good girl.''

''Good morning to you Tara.'' Starc murmured, already old enough to wonder why Tara, a fellow sibling should be bade good morning.

Mama woke later and milked the goat while Tara made breakfast and after the whole family had eaten, Moey, Starc and Tara had all cleaned their faces, preparing for school. Moey and Starc to be taught while Tara was going to teach.

Her mama entered into the inner chamber where she was about to put on one of her regular frocs and placed a gentle hand on Tara's. '' Don't.''

Tara turned to her mama surprised. ''But Mama I have to get dressed and go off to teach, you know the school needs me -- Mistera needs me.''

Her mama shook her head. '' I do not forbid you to go teach in school, but must you always put on such ugly dresses outside.''

Tara swallowed. ''And of what use would it be if I put on a pretty dress Mama? The young men of Mistera are all cowards and until Councilor Mogo sho gives his consent or raises the curse he has placed on me, I might as well be invisible, they wouldn't even so much as smile at me -- except Justin of cause, but Justin doesn't count.''

Justin was their neighbor's son, his father owned the farm opposite their home, they were quite rich and when all the young men had started avoiding Tara out of fear of the Councilor, he had even gotten closer to her, trying to make up for the way the others had been avoiding her, he had even told her she was beautiful on many occasions and once Tara thought he was going to kiss her but he didn't. She hadn't wanted him to, to her he was almost like a brother, her very own best friend.

Her mother took the frock from her and put it down. ''You're beautiful Tara. I have never seen a young woman more beautiful than you in the whole of Mistera -- I know I am supposed to be modest since you are my daughter yet.''

Tara dropped her head. She did not like people talking about her beauty. They spoke almost as if she was f*******n, some rare, beautiful creature that was not to be touched but to be admired from afar. ''Mama what is the use of that. I might live to be an old maid before the Councilor marries me -- and even then... I hear he hits his wife --''

''Think about Moey then. Do this for her. Don't you think people would want to wait to see what she would look like when she grows, they would say if Tara is this beautiful, Moey must be too. You would be giving her a better chance at a good marriage.''

''Yeah, until another councilor decides to make her his future second wife.''

''Tara.'' Her mama scolded and she bowed her head, contrite. ''Do not speak of things you don't wish to happen.'' She drew in a breath and her voice softened. ''Justin really likes you Tara and his uncle is a councilor, he might just have the power to fight Mogo Sho.''

Tara nodded. How did she explain to her mother that she just couldn't consider Justin as her husband? The thought alone was funny, like a practical joke Mistera was playing on her. Justin himself had been acting funny lately, getting her flowers and spending too much time looking into her eyes. She sighed and picked up another frock. It was peach and trimmed with white lace from the time when her father had still been alive, before he had been taken.

The school building was a very old one, built in a strange style with wide rooms that served as classrooms and an upper floor with stairs built into the house. It had been there when Tara's grandmama was a little girl and even Mama Sewo, the oldest woman in Mistera had once said that she could not remember a time when the school building had not been there.

Tara taught girls how to sew and to read. Females were not supposed to learn to write but it was essential they knew how to read incase their husbands in times of great emergency wanted to send written messages to them.

A girl in front with pigtails the color of burnished wheat raised her hand, ''Yes Benadryl?'' Tara answered.

''If I can make a copy of this symbols you are teaching us to read, does it mean I can write?'' She asked, eager and enthusiastic.

''No.'' Tara answered, hating Mistera for taken away choice from women, from men too, from all. ''It doesn't mean you would be allowed to write.''

Benadryl's face scrunched up in confusion. ''But... Do you mean that it means I can write but I wouldn't be allowed to? Please, I really want to know. My younger brother says girls can't write cause we're stupid and only good for being kissed or cooking.'' She stared solemnly at Tara, willing her to tell the truth. ''Is that true Teacher Tara? You're the only one I trust that can answer me.''

Tara felt cornered. If she told the little girl the truth, that girls actually could write but that some old tradition that was there before any of them were born forbade them, she could lose her work teaching at the school and the little money she got as her pay helped a lot in providing food for the family especially since she and Mama had started returning Mogo's gifts.

The parents of a girl had once come complaining to the high teacher because Tara had told their daughter that it was not only beauty and one's ability to cook that made her husband love her, but she also had to have worth, that inner personality, who she truly was inside. Tara had been asked to explain just what she had meant by that; the girl had been very beautiful. She had been warned that if she was caught again spreading the belief that people -- anyone had a choice, she was going to be sent away from teaching in the school and reported to the council for appropriate punishment. Yet she could not bring herself to squash the hope of the young girl looking up to her. There were so many hopeless people in Mistera, too afraid even to simply be happy and seeing hope in the young girl's eyes was refreshing, a light she was not willing to put out.

''You would have to listen to your heart for the answer to that one Bena.'' She answered finally.

She had the school bells that signified the end of school for the day and she started packing up her sewing materials and the large scroll she had been using to teach while her pupils ran out of the class gleefully without a backward glance. They were all happy to say goodbye to school even if it was only till the next day. Tara felt a small hand on her arm, and she turned to see Benadryl.

''Thank you Teacher Tara.'' Benadryl said softly and looking at her, Tara knew the younger girl had understood the sacrifice it had been for her to give such and explanation in class and she knew also that Benadryl had understood what she meant by listening to her heart. She nodded her reply. She would get queried by the high teacher and she could even loose her teaching position, but Tara knew it had been worth it.

When she got summoned to the high teacher's meeting room, Tara went with her head up high. Something brought to her mind the memory of her grandmother smiling and she knew that wherever she was, her grandmama was proud of her.

''Were you asked during you teaching hours today if girls could write?'' The head teacher asked.

'' Well not really put that way it was more like an indirect --''

'' Did Benadryl not ask you today in front of the whole class during your teaching hours if girls could write? Answer me Tara.''

Tara raised her head a notch higher. ''You already know the answer.''

The high teacher was speechless for some time, at a loss for the right words to use to show Tara how she really felt. ''And this is how you address your high teacher? With little respect. Do you know how many young women wish they could have your place teaching at this school but Mistera blesses you with this position and you are ungrateful, speaking to your high teacher with such disrespectful tone.''

Tara was silent. She knew young women her age did not want her position teaching at the school, they were in their husband's houses, worrying about raising good children and staying pretty for their husbands. It was a funny blessing Mistera gave her.

''Speak Tara.'' The high teacher snapped. ''Show remorse. Do you want me to take you to trial before the council? And mind you, even Mogo Sho would not be able to save you from getting what you deserve.''

'' I'm sorry high teacher that I am different, but I just cannot lie to myself.''

The high teacher tightened her lip. '' You give me no choice Tara --''

'' Ironic is it, high teacher? Considering the fact that all the people of Mistera have no choice.'' Tara had not needed to say that, but she had known what the high teacher had been about to say and she was feeling rebellious.

''Thank you Tara.'' The high teacher spat. '' Perhaps it is fated that you would amount to nothing. You are dismissed from your position as teacher in this school and you are not welcome on this school ground again, lest you corrupt our good pupils with your heresies.''

As Tara went home that evening, she wondered if she had done the right thing. was it not better to keep quiet and keep her work at the school, keep food in her belly and that of her family than to throw it all away because of something as abstract as hope? It was evening already and when she got home. She dropped her sewing kit and went out immediately to buy potatoes with the little money she had been given at the school as a payoff. She needed to get to the open market before the stores that sold the cheapest started closing for the night. She also knew the reason she was hurrying outside was because she wasn't yet ready to face Mama and tell her she had lost her work at the school.

The man she loved buying potatoes from was a short potbellied man with a bald head. She had once joked with Farah that the reason he was so potbellied was because he ate his potatoes whole as they were without cutting or cooking. He was a jolly man and usually gave Tara an extra potato, something none of the other angry-faced merchants ever did and because of hat, Tara always bought from him.

''Ah! It's councilor Tara.'' He joked when he saw her. Only him could joke about her almost betrothal to the councilor and it would bring a smile to her face.

'' In person.'' She replied smiling, her worries forgotten for a moment. In no time, they had agreed on a price for the number of potatoes she had come to buy, and he helped her put them in a sack, she was ready to go.

As she turned, she saw some women whom she had caught watching her turn sharply away. She recognized them from her dancing season, they had been around the same age. One held tightly unto a little girl that was probably her daughter as if the little girl would disappear if she let go. ' There's something so accursed don't you think, in being so beautiful?' Tara had her say, and she didn't bother to wait and hear more, she hurried away. As she walked home, she could hear the whispers. 'always talking about choice.' Someone said. 'as crazy as her grandma.' Another said.

Tara wanted to block her ears and run. She had known people did not approve of the way she thought -- that they considered her grandmama crazy but to hear them say it so openly, not caring that she heard them... She stumbled against the butcher's table upsetting his meat and sending some of them crashing to the floor. 'do you think she has gone blind?' She heard a little child ask.

''They're staring cause they're jealous.'' Someone said from beside her and she turned sharply.

''Because they're jealous plus you got sacked from the school today.'' Selsa, Tara's former teacher continued.

''Teacher Selsa!'' Tara exclaimed happily. Her former teacher had been one of the very few people that encouraged her way of thinking. Not openly but showing support when she needed it.

''Shhhh.'' Selsa said. '' I'm not your teacher anymore. The same way you are no longer a teacher.'' She looked at Tara a little strangely then said. ''If you come by my house today, I might tell you why I too was stripped of my position as teacher.''

Tara nodded, not knowing what to say and Selsa patted a shoulder. ''Just don't let what they say get to you, they are talking now because they are jealous, jealous and bored -- a very deadly combination.''

Tara nodded again and was about to keep going home when she heard it; the nightingale's sing. It wasn't really singing, instead it was a false state of calm that came upon you, making you not to want to run, right before the creatures of the lore swooped down and started taking people.

She struggled against it, unable to run yet trying to. There was a loud scream from the child standing beside her as a creature so fast it was a shadow swooped low and took the child's mother. In a matter of seconds, the woman was lying on the floor, dead and bloodied. Then all hell broke loose.

Tara was unable to see through the chaos that broke out and the nightingale's sing was getting louder, threatening to engulf her. With the last of her will power, she staggered over to the butcher's store and hid under his table.

   A glimpse of chapter three

If what we fear is what we get

and hope we must for joy to get,

then to be brave is to be happy, strong and free,

but to tear is faster than to repair.