Page 65 of Circle of Days
“Thank you,” said Pia. “You’re very kind.”
A crowd gathered outside Yana and Pia’s house the following afternoon. Most of the people were women. One of them was Pia’s friend Mo, and Pia quietly asked her: “What are they saying?”
“They’re outraged, naturally. But some of them are scared, too. They’re here, but they don’t want to offend Troon too much. Others are more robust.”
Mo was among the robust ones, Pia could guess. She was a stocky figure, with dark hair and freckles, and she was not easilyintimidated. Pia said: “I suppose the really frightened ones have stayed at home.”
“Exactly.”
Shen was there, sharp-eyed, noting who was present and who was not. Troon would have a complete list tonight.
Pia noticed Bort and Deg in the crowd. They did not look the least bit embarrassed. Did they not realize the part they had played in this crisis? Of course not, she thought.
There were more men present than she had expected, and she said so to Duff.
He was cautious. “I rounded up a few supporters, but some of these here I never spoke to, and I’m not sure whose side they’re on. They might have come to back Troon.”
Pia nodded. That was what she had been afraid of. The outcome was in doubt, she realized. She was tortured by anxiety, but there was nothing more she could do.
Just as the lower edge of the sun’s disc touched the western horizon, Troon and Stam appeared across the fields. Conversation in the crowd faded to whispers as they came close.
Stam was wearing a new tunic and a bowl-shaped leather cap. Pia guessed that Katch, his mother, had made the cap. He seemed pleased with himself, but in truth the little cap on his big head made him look foolish.
As father and son approached the crowd, Troon said loudly: “Clear the way, clear the way.”
Pia felt the crowd hesitate. This was a key moment. Would they defy Troon and stand in his way?
One or two moved back, and others followed suit. Those whohad not moved looked very exposed, and in ones and twos they, too, retreated. It was not immediate obedience, but it was very far from defiance, and in a few moments there was a clear passage through the crowd open to Troon and Stam.
Pia and Yana stood side by side in front of the house door.
Troon and Stam walked up to them.
Troon said to Yana: “Here is your new man.”
She said: “I don’t love this boy and I don’t want him.”
Troon said: “All the same, you must have him.”
A woman in the crowd shouted: “This is not right!” Pia thought she recognized the voice of Mo.
Troon spun around, looking for the source of the shout, but he could not pick one woman out of fifty. He shouted: “It’s right because I say it’s right.”
A man’s voice said: “Can’t the boy speak for himself?” That sounded like Duff.
Once again Troon tried and failed to identify the speaker.
Stam was stung into speaking at last. “She’s my woman, because my father says so.”
It made him seem even less grown-up, and there was a scatter of laughter.
But, Pia noted with dismay, no one was willing to stand up to Troon openly.
Stam did not like to be laughed at, and he looked cross. He said to Yana: “We’re going inside.” He took hold of her upper arm.
“One moment,” she said, and he let go. Pia thought that was a heartening sign. It meant that her mother was not going to lose all control.
The crowd went quiet, and Yana spoke to Stam in a clear voice, so that everyone could hear and understand. “You will never, ever strike me. For if you do—just once—know that afterward you will not sleep, not that night or any subsequent night. You will live without sleep. Because you will be sure that if you close your eyes, and fall asleep, then—” Her voice rose to a cry. “Then, when you’re in your deepest, most unconscious sleep, I will take a flint bradawl—the kind that bores little holes in wood—and I will pierce both your eyes with it, so quickly that you will wake up blind, not knowing what has happened to you; and you will never be able to strike a woman again.”
