Bird As Fish

The sun was just setting down beyond the trees, leaving the air clammy with the day’s precipitation, which still hung in the air and dripped now and then off the leaves. A few rivulets trickled water into the river which rushed by, secreted under the great masses of overhanging boughs, which now and then dropped a leaf that fell slowly into the churning water and disappeared. The whole sky was a lavender colour, slowly fading into plum, except for a few spikes of red cloud off on the horizon, hidden beyond the trees.

Walking quickly nearby, just under the bough of a large flowering jasmine was a slight woman, whose long, black hair reached to her fingertips as her hands hung by her side. Her eyes were deep and black and her lips were hidden by a veil. They pursed unconsciously with displeasure when the leaves dripped on her. The young woman darted in and out of the trees that grew wild along the riverbank and showered old fragrant flower petals down on her head. A ripple of jasmine mingled with the old rotting leaves, causing the forest floor to be scaled with white. She stepped quickly over the roots that grew in odd shapes across the ground and under branches that hung low across her path. Her movements were smooth but not pretty for she knew it was a dangerous thing to be walking by the river in the evening, if not because of the animals, because of the men who lived nearby, those who were too poor to have wives, who herded a few gaunt cows along the riverbank and farmed a few crops in ashy soil.

Dusk continued to fall as the woman made her way into a glen. A few thin men sat around a smoky fire, mumbling as they did about their common trade, while the cows milled nearby. She wondered absently why they would keep the cows in the open for the night. The firelight bounced off their faces illuminating strange eyebrows and sharp cheekbones. A few satchels lay nearby in wild disarray, while the three men sat on rough logs, poking sticks absently into the fire. The sparks flying upwards from the fire did nothing to light up the gathering darkness that closed in around them all. Dusk was quickly fading into night.

She took a quick glance at the three men as she hurried on past them. The man farthest from her had wide eyes that jerked nervously from thing to thing, blinking uncomfortably. He swallowed once or twice, looking like he had just eaten something foul, while the pock marks on his face contorted into lines. His adam’s apple jumped up and down tensely, as he looked around.

The man on the left sat in the dirt, leaning leisurely back against a fallen bough, giving everything in his failing sight a haughty glance. He was a larger built man, not slight or humble by anyone’s measure. He was too thin though, and the woman could see his hip bones through his clothing. Matted and dirty hair fell into his eyes as he gestured boisterously about but brushed it away with a grimy hand. He spoke too loudly for anyone’s good, and mocked his third companion’s silence.

The third companion sat by a pile of haphazardly stacked firewood that rustled now and then when he adjusted his arm that lay on it. His hair was short, and he looked to be the only respectable man in the group, if just by the way he sat looking into the fire, as if deep in meditation. He held his arms close to ward off the falling dew and mumbled now and then an answer to one of his companions.

None of them looked at the cows.

As the veiled woman hurried by, she fell on one of the outstretched roots, and landed with a large cry on the forest floor. Her leg hurt abominably. The nervous man jumped up anxiously and shouted with almost a scream at the dark shadow that gasped by the trunk of the tree. They grabbed the sticks from the fire and began to move menacingly over to where the woman lay. When they realized it was neither a malignant spirit nor an armed man, they kicked her and seized her arms, forcing her to stand up, and putting the glowing rods dangerously near her face. The big man, twisted her arm terribly, and picking her up with one hand, brought her over to the fire where they could see her better.

“What do you want?” she raged.
“What…what are you doing here?” the nervous man asked at a safe distance from her fiery eyes.
“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling all the more.
“Tell us wh…at you are doing here f…first” the man insisted while swallowing twice. He was desperately trying to stand his ground, but found her fierceness to be too strong. He looked away.
“I am going to my father’s house” she spat.
“Impossible” said the man who still held her by her arm. “Impossible” he reiterated. “You have no provisions. You were spying on us. Admit it!” he shouted in her ear with another agonizing twist to her arm. She stopped struggling, mired in pain. “You were spying on us! How long have you been listening?”
“I have no provisions because they were already taken from me by men such as yourselves!” she shouted desperately. “I have no wish to spy on you. I have my own business to attend to. I only want to be on my way.”
“What you want is of no concern to us” replied the contemplative man in a quiet tone. Then looking closer at her, asked where her husband was.
“He is dead” she answered flatly, looking calmly, but not peacefully into his black face. The man looked like he was thinking about something and said nothing for several minutes. Then he roused himself.
“He is not dead” the man replied simply. “You are running away.”
“Why do you think that?” she asked blankly.
“You always did hate him” he replied while his lips curled up in jubilee.
The woman stood there, awed for a minute by what the man said to her. No longer angry, she stood there curious, amazed.
“Who are you? And how do you know the secrets of my heart?”
He waited a minute before replying, while the sparks from the fire suddenly blazed up behind him. “Your hatred of him, underneath everything, was obvious by how you stood at his side, stone faced. Everyday, you were more rigid, looking at everything with such a fierce glare. You always reminded me of a tiger in a cage. If anyone got too close, you seemed like you would attack. Even now, Pechira, it poisons your whole face.” She flicked one hand up in protest.
“Do not forget,” her eyes were venomous, her voice fierce, “that he hated me too!” She looked at his face, to see if she could discern who he was, but failed. “Who are you?” she finally asked.
“What?” he asked with a small smile, “You don’t remember me? I worked for your husband for a little while, herding his cattle.” He motioned with one hand towards the forgotten cows. “See if you recognize any of them.”
She gave a loud and bitter laugh. “You are the cattle thief!” She laughed again. “I remember! There was something about you that made me suspicious. But I didn’t know what it was. My husband was furious with all the trouble you caused him. I heard him talking about the different ways he wanted you killed.”
“Rohani, the cattle thief, at your service.” He bowed low, laughing all the while. The big man quietly released his grip on her and she stood as one of them in the circle. “I remember how you looked at him – as if you hated every hair on his head.”
“I did” she replied plainly. “But not any more.”
“Sleep here tonight,” said Rohani. “Tomorrow we shall all accompany you on your journey to the house of your father. If your husband finds us, he shall find two of his dread enemies.” Rohani laughed again. “If you speak to your father concerning us, he may give us a boon for returning his precious daughter to him.” Pechira understood. “In the meantime, we shall take one more thing from the master who has already bestowed upon every single one of us such…” he smiled, “bounty.”

The fire was dying down, and she sat down on one of the logs, whilst they pulled food for her from out of their sacks. As she lay down to sleep with a rough, borrowed garment wrapped around her, she whispered to no one in particular, “But I didn’t lie. My husband is dead.”

©2004 All Rights Reserved MJ Jackson
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