Meg

In the ancient country of Dama, heartland to the kingdom of Andonia, the noble house of Kem rules proudly over a prestigious and prosperous earldom, and an important corridor between the River Ganecia and the Deep Forests. But this account has only a little to do with this great earldom for its proximity to a riverside free-town called Leer, as on the outskirts of this town lives a family of freemen, including a beloved daughter named Meg.

Meg Freeman of Leer is born Grace 1131 to Bren and Dila Freeman, their first, in a humble cottage aside the waters of the River Ganecia. She lives an enviable childhood for a yeoman girl, with her family’s own, private land open to her to run and play and the wide waters of the Ganecia there for swimming whenever she pleases (and she does greatly enjoy swimming). Whenever her parents put her to work, she does so for the direct advancement of her own family, while the peasants mere miles away toil endlessly for the earl’s satisfaction. Her whole family – her parents, her father’s two brothers and their wives, and her father’s parents, all of whom live there on private land – love her greatly, and, as time passes, she grows into a healthy and beautiful young woman. Of course, to claim Meg lives a perfect life on her family’s land would be, at least in her eyes, quite false. But we will arrive at that in time.

From a young age, Meg learns to help her family in any way she can and to be proud of it; her grandfather could afford to buy this land from Leer’s burgher only after much toil upon it, and it will remain in the family’s possession only by more of the same. She follows on the adults’ heels as they rotate among the fields, running down the rows chasing pests as the crops grow and hunting for chaff after harvest. She learns from her mother and aunts how to keep house, and she learns from her father and uncles how to count payments at market. And in the winter, when her father ventures along the river to sell charcoal and pickles in Kem’s domain, he proudly takes little Meg along to make the offers. It probably helps his business, anyway; if you were presented with a jar of salty, soggy vegetables, would you sooner buy them from a scruffy old farmer or a rosy-cheeked little girl with bushy brown hair?

Yet, as much as Meg loves her family’s quiet enclave in Dama, she quickly learns to detest the nearby town of Leer. The children who live there are bullies. She cannot begin to understand it, but whenever she goes there, she faces being called names, pushed to the ground, or chased until she trips on her skirt-trails. Normally, she can avoid this grief by staying close to the adults, which works well enough for holidays, church attendance at Week’s End, or trips to the town’s well for water. But inevitably, Meg faces times when she has no choice but to visit town alone.

For instance, on several occasions when Meg is seven or eight, the minister in Leer offers to teach scriptures to children, and Meg’s parents, concerned she doesn’t spend enough time with those her age, compels her to go. And sure enough, after each lesson concludes, the children of Leer single her out, calling her a ‘mute’ for her reticence and claiming she must be stupid for all the mistakes she made reciting the minister’s words. They don’t stop until they’ve reduced her to tears. But whenever Meg complains to her parents, they only say, “Megie, you have to learn to stand up for yourself!”

Eventually, Meg brings the affair to a climax by doing precisely that. When the children begin to have their fun, Meg manages to knock the wind out of one the boys and bruise an eye on one of the girls before the minister sees, pulls her back inside, and keeps her an hour as punishment. When she reemerges, she discovers a few of her enemies tarrying in wait for her. They promptly lift her off the ground and carry her to the river, where they tie her ankles to a branch and let her dangle over the water. They laugh as she flails and cries with her dress fallen immodestly over her face, and, when they leave for their dinners, they neglect to cut her down.

Hours later, someone finally passes by and finds her there – her cousin Filon. He helps her down and sees her home, and he resolves from that point forward to watch over her in Leer. He escorts her there for the minister’s next lessons, and soon enough, the troublemakers get the point and lose interest. Yet, Meg never forgets the shame she endured that day and remains cold to the children of Leer.

Meg spends most of her first nine years an only child, and then her brother Mat is born. About two years later, Meg also gains a sister, named Carine (or Cariline, her pet name). Around that same time, Meg also becomes a mother – to the family hen-house. She takes over the job of looking after the egg-laying loco, and the sight of her squatting among the colorful birds soon earns her the name loc-lora – ‘fowl-mother.’ Her cousin Filon similarly begins calling her siln-soun – ‘little bird.’ Name-calling may have bothered her when it came from the village children, but she hardly minds it from her family, especially from Filon. She greatly admires her cousin and later mourns when he moves away to seek his destiny.

Meg enters her teenage years in this same fashion – a happy and dutiful hand to her working mother, a proud treasure to her father, and now a sister to two – incredibly annoying – young siblings. She worries her parents at times, though, as she begins to explore her surroundings more widely, venturing into the surrounding forests and swimming all the way to the Ganecia’s opposing banks. Mother attempts to abate her curiosities by sending her on errands to Kem-Bund, Kem’s manor-town, whenever the need arises, and Father gives himself some peace of mind by gifting her with a carry-knife. He also lets her try shooting his bow, and, as it happens, she proves very talented at it. In fact, after plenty of practice, no one in the family can rival her uncanny accuracy. On one occasion, while walking with her uncle, he points out a hawk flying high over the river, and he bets her a silver coin she can’t hit it. She does, and as it falls, she dives into the river to retrieve it. Minutes later, she stands again on the bank, soaked and dripping, with a hawk in her hand, a grin plastered to her face, and a palm outstretched for her uncle’s coin.

But these years soon prove trying both for herself and for her parents as she continues to grow in independence. She spends increasingly more of her free time outside of her parents’ sight, exploring the surrounding forests and nearby towns such as Whit to the south and Kem-Bund to the southwest. Strife arises with her parents amidst their distrust and her resentment, and Meg begins to imagine what it might be like to travel and see other realms. But she soon aggravates her parents in a new, much greater way.

One day, mid-spring, as she wanders the edges of Kem-Bund, she notices a group of serfs tilling manor-land and remarks at how lazily they work. As she watches, however, she sees that one in their number, a young man, does his job with energy and determination. Days later, Meg wanders from home again and, without even thinking about it, finds herself near that same clearing again, hiding within the tree-line, watching the broad-shouldered, dark-haired young man as he works. This time, he notices her – and their eyes meet for a moment before another in the group shoos her away.

But rather than return home, Meg lingers in the area and seats herself on a fence-post between the field and the town. Near evening, she sees the young man walking towards her – and she panics and flees.

Actually, their first proper meeting happens by chance in Kem’s town, while Meg is running an errand for Mother. His name is Jach, and he’s not a serf but a free, hired hand. He moved to Kem just recently from Dama-Cartus – capital of Dama and crown-city to Andonia – to seek opportunities outside the city-squalor. With his charm, kindness, and undeniably handsome face, who could expect Meg not to fall for him?

But that is as much as shall be said of Meg for now.