Juliet

Juliet

Chapter One
Newcomer

Since its founding two hundred years prior, the town of Denton has sprawled out to include two hills, a valley, a lake, and a forest along with the original town and surrounding farm lands. Denton was an average farming village on the outskirts of Iisk, the Western Kingdom of Zolen. It was a five days journey from the nearest port town of Bunt and the Silverous Sea, and ten days from the Iiskean capital of Eronec.

Denton was still backwards in many ways. Most of the older citizens had no education what so ever, and very few people in the town could read or write. Just within the last two years had an old barn been converted into a school room to try and educate the youth. The school master, James Karen, was an ideological man, straight out of the University of Eronec. He, along with several fellow school mates, had formed a group to try and educate all the outer towns and villages. None were prepared for the challenge that they would have to face in towns that were hardened by age and tradition, and the success of the mission had seen little progress. Still, Master Karen had not yet given up, though many of his fellow teachers had.

The town also had no formal doctors or mid-wives. In the earlier time, they had to rely on the memories of the elders to teach common folk cures and remedies. Ten years ago, the first healing woman had arrived in the form of Sophia Greene. Mrs. Greene, though commonly called by the townspeople Aunt Sophie, was a hardened woman who had been born and raised in Bunt. No one knew her reason for coming to Denton, and few question it for fear she would refuse them service. She wore widows’ black every day and had to be nearing her sixtieth birthday. She was short, thin, and wrinkled like the majority of her age, but was still strong of hand and sure of foot, a necessity for her job.

Besides Aunt Sophie and Master Karen, few of the faces in the town were new. The names were all old and of solid and hardy Iiskean stock. The people were all farmers on their lands with their stone and wooden cottages, or merchants in the town with their two story wooden homes. The townspeople were, for the most part Iiskeans, dressed in their woven wool and cotton clothes, with their light hued hair and dark eyes. The men all kept their hair cut to frame the head, and the women all wore bonnets or caps.

The slightest news happening in Denton became the town’s biggest gossip, whether it was a cousin arriving to the Steen household, or Mrs. Grant getting cheated in the market, everyone knew within a day.

“Buncha gossiping old biddies if you ask me,” mumbled Aunt Sophie, sweeping her porch and glaring at two middle-aged female shoppers giggling about another woman’s new hair color. The women seem to notice Aunt Sophie’s rage, a common occurrence from the old woman, and moved on to talk in front of someone else’s house. Aunt Sophie huffed, and turned her attention away from her sweeping and back on Master Karen.

“I concur Madame Greene,” said Master Karen in a quiet and polite voice. James Karen had yet to pass his twenty-sixth year and was a handsome man, with his deep brown doe eyes, light cedar hair, and a hairless face. His complexion was the same rosy tan that most Iiskeans had and he dressed in the scholar’s navy blue coat and beeches. Most women would giggle as they passed him, but not give him a second thought. He may be handsome, but was too soft spoken and soft handed to be of use to a shop-keeper or farmer’s daughter. To Aunt Sophie though, he was one of the few presences keeping her sane.

“James Karen,” said Aunt Sophie in mock anger. “We have been friends for going on two years. If the little bitches and bastards can call me their Aunt, I don’t see why you can’t.” Master Karen’s cheeks turned red at Aunt Sophie’s language.

“I am sorry Madame Greene,” replied Master Karen. “But in Eronec, manners are so ingrained in our educations, that forgetting them would be forgetting part of ourselves.”

“That explains how you manage to think so clearly,” laughed Aunt Sophie. “You know how to keep your ‘manners’ intake, rather then drooling at every dirty little mutt that passes, unlike some boys.” Master Karen again blushed. Aunt Sophie knew he would. James was a proper scholar, too proper for the town of Denton. James didn’t understand why so few people had any interest in learning and the townspeople were clueless as to why James stressed the need for them to better themselves. Being able to read did not make the harvest better, nor did being able to write make you strong enough to plow a field.

“Most scholars remain bachelors for life, Madame Greene,” said Master Karen, when he finally had his voice back under control. “Most people only dedicate a handful of years to higher education, but a scholar must dedicate his life. There is so much to learn, and we only have a short time. A wife and family takes away from that time that we do have.”
“If you wish to learn everything, why come here?” questioned Aunt Sophie. “Nothing new here. There are no books, but the ones you and I have, and the only thing you will find out here is the best way to boil peas for dinner.”

“But a scholar must share what he knows with others,” said Master Karen, in his best teaching voice. “And since the larger towns have formal schools and men much wiser then I and my young colleagues, we have dedicated our lives to teach the people of towns that have yet to be given such an opportunity. I myself was once a blacksmith’s son, and know how few chances are rewarded to those of the working and lower classes.”

“Aye,” said Aunt Sophie. “I didn’t know true poverty till I came to this place. In Bunt, everyone has a job about, even if it is just fishing from the docks. Few people go hungry in a place surrounded by fish.”

“I would one day like to see your Bunt,” replied Master Karen. “I have never been that close to the coast. Is it true you can see the Northern Kingdom of Lanet from the docks?”

“On the nice clear Spring days you can,” replied Aunt Sophie, returning to her sweeping. “But all you see is a glimmer on the horizon. Sometimes though after a storm a boat will make berth at our dock from Lanet, and the Lanetet fishers will come and spend the night at inns, or sometimes in the townspeople’s homes.”

“I have only once seen a Lanetet,” said Master Karen. “Ambassador Whitney. Even though I had seen pictures of them before, I was surprised by his appearance and speech.”

“Yes,” sighed Aunt Sophie. “As a girl, even to me those poor boys seemed worlds above me. They didn’t seem like people, but like angels with that long black hair flaring around them and those bright eyes and milky white skin.”

“I hear the woman are even more beautiful,” sighed Master Karen, Aunt Sophie laughed.

“Not so much a scholar that you can’t appreciate a woman’s beauty, are you James,” she smirked. Master Karen grew redder then she had ever seen him.

“Well, I mean, well, er...” Master Karen stuttered. “It would be... interesting to see one. Never has a Lanetet woman made the dangerous journey across Silverous.”

“Except for that Sabaan slave ship that managed to capture those one hundred woman during their Civil War four years ago,” Aunt Sophie spat as she said the word Sabaan, referring to the Southern Empire. The news of the Lanet Civil War had reached them even in Denton. The Sabaan had gone in and caused riots amongst the Noblemen and King. The War had lasted six years, until the truth about it had finally come when three ships stole away six hundred Lanetets. An uneasy peace had been reached, reinstating the King, once it was found out the Sabbaanins had used trickery for monetary gain. Since then, Lanet had allowed little contact with the outside world, while they worked to try and get back the six hundred citizens that were now slaves in Sabaan.

“My mother wrote to me that there are rumors going about Eronec that the Lanet Military is ready to make a strike against the Sabaan Empire,” whispered James, so as not to be over heard by passersby. Aunt Sophie frowned, hoping that the Lanetet King was not such a fool that he would risk more of his people. Besides the perilous journey, there was no way that the Military was strong enough so soon after the Civil War to be able to take on the Sabaan Empire.

“An old friend in Bunt told me a truth,” said Aunt Sophie, not caring if she was overheard. “Seems some of the Lanet slaves had won their freedom or managed to run away. Lanet ships are coming every month looking for escaped slaves to take home.”

“That is good news,” said James. “When I left Eronec, Ambassador Whitney was threatening to leave Iisk, as are the ambassadors in Sabaan and Bloj. Seems the Lanetets think that the slaves should have been returned and that if the Sabaan Empire failed in doing so, Iisk and Bloj should have offered military intervention to assist the Lanetets.”

“Noone in Bloj or Iisk has the balls to make demands of Sabaan,” scoffed Aunt Sophie, adjusting her loosened cap.

“The Sabaanins are a shrewd people,” said James. “They know that as long as they have the fear of the other nations that noone will strike against them.”


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It was late afternoon when the Traveling Coaches arrived. The Traveling Coaches were three horse drawn wagons that transported travelers for a fee. Most of the people were poorer families moving to a new farm or visiting relatives. The coaches passed through Denton a few times a year on its way to a more prosperous town in Iisk or Bloj, the Eastern Kingdom. Elliot Welsh, had ridden in from his farm to announce that the coaches would arrive in an hour’s time.

The people set to work to make sure they had food and other things to sell the travelers. Coaches had few option on where to stop, and where often starved and willing to pay top price for everything. Elliot after announcing the arrival to the square made his way into to Aunt Sophie’s home to tell her, as her services may be needed.

“Aunt Sophie,” called Elliot at her door. “Aunt Sophie, the Traveling Coaches are going to be here when the sun is midway to sinking.” Aunt Sophie opened her door.

“Best come in and help then Elliot,” laughed Aunt Sophie at her oldest friend in Denton. “I need to make sure I have enough paste and liquids to satisfy all the sick and injured, as Jaselick doesn’t so much as have an elder spouting off cures when he is filled with spirits.” Elliot laughed with her as he made his way to help.

As Elliot helped her Aunt Sophie began to ponder about the man and the school master. Though both of them were her dearest friends in Denton, she liked them for different reasons. James was the only man in miles who she could have an educated debate with. He was a smart one, smartest man probably she had ever known. And he was kind and giving, dedicating his entire life to a cause doomed to fail. Elliot was so much different.

Elliot had mousy brown hair and eyes, with a nicely groomed mustache and beard. His skin was tan from his toil in the field, which had also made him tall and strong. He was nearly forty, and a widower, having lost his wife and daughter to the plague that had original brought Aunt Sophie to Denton. He was also kind and generous also, but much more stoic and frightening then James, or any man in town. He was well respected in town, and amongst the farmers. Yet Elliot and James seem to get along, though Aunt Sophie had a feeling that James was slightly intimated by Elliot and Elliot understood one word in ten that James said.

Aunt Sophie had managed to pack in a basket salves and lotions for burns and rashes, and other herbal remedies for everything from an upset stomach to fevers. The coaches were just pulling up when Aunt Sophie and Elliot made it back into the square. Everyone was their, from the town leader to children skipping out of chores and lessons. Even James had managed to pull his nose out of a book and come back to town. Besides bringing passengers and money, the coaches brought news, and the town was dying for more gossip. The coaches pulled into the square, and everyone made certain to get out of the way of the wheels and horse hooves.

The first coach was just the luggage coach, the next was the men’s coach. It contained six passengers, three worn out looking Iiskean farmers, two Blojian business men with their dark eyes, brown skin, red beards, and bald heads. They were dressed in the loose and dark colored cottons of their people. The last was an Sabaanin man, with his dark blonde hair in its customary braid with a gray ribbon woven in and his gleaming tan skin, a trait of all his people. He wore the loose gray silk tunic and pants trimmed in white, in the customary style of his people. He had eyes that matched his outfit and half the woman were in love with him, though he just scorned their looks.

Finally the woman’s carriage arrived. The horsemen went over to help out a Blojian woman, dressed in her deep and multi colored dress, with a matching scarf wrapped around her short red hair. Next was a Sabaanin woman with dark chestnut hair and silver eyes, her braids laced with a bright yellow ribbon and her silky gown matching. She raced to the Sabaanin male youth, who embraced her, causing all the woman to moan. The next two out were older Sabaanin women, their silver braids in buns, with black ribbons decorating them. They too had silver eyes, yet bore no more resemblance to the tan youths that were cooing to each other. Their silk dresses were also black, depicting them as widows, probably moving to escape the heat of the Sabaan Empire. The old women scowled at the man who just rolled his eyes. When they were on the ground, the man turned his attention back to the coach and the last passenger, who was reluctant to get out.

“Miss, I told you,” said the coachman. “This is as far as you go. I can’t risk taking you further, I have already risked more then I like.”

“There is no risk,” a voice sang from the confines of the coach. “I won’t give birth for at least three more months, and by then I shall be out of your hands for ages.”

“You look like you won’t last another day,” argued the man. “Let alone the trip to Bunt. Get out Miss, you shall not go further even if I must leave this coach.”

“I paid for passage to Bunt,” she argued. “I am going to Bunt.”

“No you are not,” yelled the coachman. “You are more trouble then you are worth. You know the rules, no pregnant woman in the coaches. We should have left you in Sabaan when you first showed the signs. Now get out.” The woman still refused. The older Sabaanin women came up to the coach.

“Leave her be,” one of them told the coachman. “We can assure you, she is far from giving birth still. She is a good girl, and deserves the right to finish her journey. You can’t leave her here in this backwater town without any support.”

“Watch me,” the man snarled, entering the coach. A high scream was heard as the last passenger was pushed from the coach and would have fallen to the ground if the elderly women hadn’t been nearby. Upon seeing her, everyone gasped.

The first thing about the girl that was noticed was her hair. It fell past her knees, and was a forest of dark ebony curls. The sides were tied back with a green silk ribbon. She wore a dress of a Sabaanin, but her skin was so pale it shown in the sun. Her tearful eyes reflected an inhuman green, bright as the moon in the night sky. Her dress was of the best quality of the travelers, yet it was strained under the presence of her enormous belly, huge with child. The people could see why the coachman thought she would give birth soon. The most shocking thing was her face. It was young, that of a mere maiden as opposed to the woman that should have that stomach. Her angelic curves showed she could be no more then sixteen years old. But everyone knew what she was. A Lanetet, and an ex-slave.

Once the girl had steadied herself, she approached the coachmen.

“I paid too much for a ticket in your coach,” she seethed, “I demand to finish the journey.” The coachman ignored her.

“To the rest of you, we leave in two hours time,” he yelled. “Or else you can join the little bitch in her new home.” The coachman of the baggage coach threw down two bags in the dirt road, that appeared to be the girl’s.

The girl grew furious, she in a great show of agility, dropped to the ground and hurled hands of dirt and mud at the coachmen and coaches. The leader of the women’s coach seemed to get the worse of her tantrum and with a growl approached her and lifted her from the ground. The elderly women beat at him as he held the young girl by the collar of her gown.

“You little whore,” he growled in her face. “How dare you act like this. I should have resold you at the border you foul cunt, let some other man make you his play thing. That is exactly what you deserve, to be the toy of some dirty filthy man that loves to hear your screams and see you bleeding under him, touching your well used privates and breast, stroking and groping at your naked body as you cry in pain and him lapping at your tears as if they are honey.” The man released the girl. She stumbled slightly but kept her ground. She then did something stupid, she spat at the man.

The coachmen seem to have enough and moved from hurling words to slapping her hard across the face.
“Oh I will take you to Bunt,” he screamed, grabbing her arm. “I will take you and rape you in the streets, and then let every sailor have his turn until you are nothing but a bleeding mass in the streets, you little..” The coachman was about to strike her again, and she was braced for the impact, but the man let out a gasp of pain instead.

Elliot stood behind the coachman and the girl, his face calm but his eyes glowing with fierce fury.

“That isn’t the way you treat a child, woman, and one with child,” he growled, releasing the whimpering coachman. “ How dare you say such things to her and in front of the other women. And how dare you strike her.” Elliot gave the man a strong punch in the gut, causing the coachman to buckle under the pain. Elliot then moved to the girl and helped her up. “Is he always this rude to you miss?”

“Worse normally,” replied one of the old women, who had rushed over to coo at the girl and assist in any way.

“And none of you men stopped her,” Elliot roared to the two other coachmen and the male passengers.

“She is but an ex-slave and a useless Lanetet,” scorned the Sabaanin male, holding his female counter part close. Elliot was about to strike the lad, until the Lanetet girl stopped him.

“If I am so useless,” she said in her sweet voice. “Then explain how you came to get that scar across your chest to Melissa.” The girl practically cooed this statement. The male just looked vivid. The Sabaanin girl, Melissa looked confused, as did everyone else.

“I would leave him as soon as I could Melissa,” said the Lanetet female. “He has too much of a wondering hand and eye. He tried to take me before the signs of motherhood began to show on my body, and he would have succeeded if I hadn’t slashed him. He is no good for you, return to your father’s home while you still can.” Melissa looked fearful and stepped away from the youth, as did all the women nearby. The youth snarled and was about to take the coachman’s lead and strike the pregnant girl if Aunt Sophie hadn’t intervened.

“Enough, all you,” the old woman yelled. “This girl has done no wrong to you and around these parts we find slavers to be the scum that they are. Elliot, help the girl into my house after she has said her farewells,” She said pointing at the baggage coachman. “Take her things in too. If you won’t let her go with you I have no choice but to keep her.” No one argued, not even the strong-willed girl, with Aunt Sophie’s words.


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True to their words, the Traveling Coaches left within two hours of their arrival, leaving behind the town of Denton’s most interesting new citizen. Never in anyone’s wildest dreams had they ever thought a Lanetet would take up residence in their small town. The girl, though swearing at the coaches as they left, proved to have learned her lessons and attempted no more strikes against the coachman or Sabaanin youth. The females of the coaches had given her a tearful farewell, as they had grown use to her in there over five months of travel together. The men, of fear of Elliot, stayed away for the most part, except for the Blojians, who gave her a purse with coins to help her and to apologize for not acting to help her. For the first time, the girl had smiled. It was such a charming look that Aunt Sophie had nearly gasped at the action and Elliot’s eyes had brightened. Master Karen, who had joined the group, had stuttered and practically fainted.

‘Seems he does have some eye for beauty,’ laughed Aunt Sophie to herself.

“Twas not your fault,” said the girl, kissing the males’ bald heads. “If you had protested my treatment, they would have kicked out of coaches too. My only regret is not being able to give birth to my baby in my homeland.” She looked wistfully north, and with Master Karen’s and Elliot’s help was moved back inside to await Aunt Sophie.

When the coach was out of her sight, Aunt Sophie came back in. Master Karen and Elliot were seated at her table, looking at her with questioning eyes.

“I am a healing woman,” she spat. “I have to look after her.”

“I understand Madame,” said James. “But what shall be done with her? We must send word the Lanet embassy that one of the slaves is here so that they can assist...”

“In what Master Karen,” boomed Elliot. “Once she gives birth, which is soon, it will be at least five years before she can safely cross Silverious, that is if her children are healthy.”

“But someone of her own kind can take care of her,” James said. “She needs..”

“She needs me to look at her and then a good meal and bath,” said Aunt Sophie. “You gents stay here, and there shall be no questions about her or her past from either of you until later.” Before they could argue, Aunt Sophie was already halfway to the door to the Lanetet’s room.

Opening the door, Aunt Sophie again was captivated by the girl’s beauty. The glow of motherhood only added to her eternal beauty, and if not for her sour face, the girl could have easily been considered an angel. When Aunt Sophie entered the room, the girl’s scowl that was focused north turned toward her.

“That was a stupid move chicky,” Aunt Sophie said. “Fighting a man in your condition. He could have seriously hurt you or your child.”

“He was no man,” she said, the bruise on her cheek shining. “No man would have acted that way toward a woman.”


“Your no woman, you are just a foolish girl,” said Aunt Sophie, moving to exam her.

“I haven’t been a girl since I have came to the South,” the girl hissed. Seeing her bulging belly, Aunt Sophie couldn’t argue. The girl had seen the ugly side of life, no doubt, and it seemed to have made her fearless.

“Let me asked you a few questions before I examine you,” said Aunt Sophie. The girl gave no reply. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Any other wounds besides the bruise and condition.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Freed or escaped?”

“Leave it up to your imagination.”

“Always this cheeky.”

“Only when provoked.”

“How long have you been pregnant.”

“Five or six months.” Aunt Sophie was confused by that answer. The girl looked ready to pop.

“Remove your gown,” Aunt Sophie instructed. The girl seemed to realize what was to happen, and did so without complaint. The girl folded her gown and laid it on the bed. She hadn’t lied about other wounds, the rest of her skin was flawless, smooth, and pale. Sabaan seemed to have not tinted her skin in the least bit. Aunt Sophie began feeling her body and the development of the baby. The girl was again right, she couldn’t have been more then two thirds of the way through her ordeal, her body showed no signs of dropping the child soon and her stomach was still going to grow.

“You must be carrying more then one,” said Aunt Sophie, moving away. The girl redressed quickly and elegantly. “It shall be a hard birth. You are so young and even those who have had a child in the past still scream when on the birthing bed.”

“I am not an idiot Madame,” the girl said. “Nothing you have said is new to me. I realized days ago I was pregnant with more then one and I know that I shall beg for death in my labor hours, yet I still shall bring these children into the world. My only regret is not to be able to do so in my homeland of Lanet.” Aunt Sophie said nothing, but knew that if the girl had a regret, it was not the one she kept saying.

“Why not stay in their father’s?” asked Aunt Sophie. “I assume he was your Sabaanin master, unless he was another slave or foreigner?” The girl didn’t answer.

“What part of Lanet are you from?” asked Aunt Sophie. “Shall I write to your home or to our ambassador of your arrival here.” The girl scuffed.

“My home can do nothing but send funds they can’t afford, and the ambassador is a fool,” she hissed. “Whitney was a minor lord that the King was tired of, so he sent him too a new land where he could cause no more damage.”

“So your going to say nothing of your past?” asked Aunt Sophie.

“Only if you speak of yours madame,” she smirked at the older woman.

“The fishermen in Bunt had much better manners then you,” Aunt Sophie replied.

“You were probably too busy oogling them to pay attention to much else,” the girl said.

“Do you have a name to go with that wit,” asked Aunt Sophie.

“Juliet Dovecot,” the girl replied. Aunt Sophie knew that name rang some sort of bell in her head, but couldn’t find the source.

“I am Sophia Greene, called Aunt Sophie and I have but one question for you.”

“No need to ask,” said Juliet looking at the older woman with her face at the most serene it had been so far. “I loved him with all my heart and no matter what, I shall never regret that.” That wasn’t going to be the question Aunt Sophie was going to ask, but the answer explained more then anything else the girl could have said.


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Before serving the evening meal to her new houseguest and old friends, Aunt Sophie formally introduced Juliet to James and Elliot and restated her rule of not asking questions of the girl. Actually it didn’t matter if they asked, Juliet wouldn’t answer, but she thought it best not to grate on the girl’s nerves, or else Aunt Sophie would have an injured farmer or school master on her hands, added on to a disgruntled youth.

The meal was simple, black bread, ale, soup, and some meat, simple Iiskean fare. Aunt Sophie was more interested in Juliet’s eating then her own meal, as where both the males.

Juliet had table manners, whether through her slave master or parents, it wasn’t certain. She used her silverware, unlike Elliot and Aunt Sophie who just used their hands. She took small bites and seem to savor each, especially the meat. The Lanetets were meat eaters, like the Iiskeans, but the Sabaanins were pure vegetarians. Juliet also wasn’t given ale, but honeyed milk which she seemed to prefer. Lanetet women only partook of wine or brandy for their alcohol and mostly drank tea or milk, while the Sabaanins had their flavored waters or sweet fruity concoctions. Juliet had probably never sampled ale in her life, and at this stage in her pregnancy didn’t need too.

James on several occasions seem to want to ask a question of Juliet, but a sharp look from Aunt Sophie stopped any in he had. For the most part, Juliet kept her eyes on her stomach and randomly would stroke or pat it, a gentle smile gracing her lips. Aunt Sophie and James couldn’t help but smile, but for different reasons. Aunt Sophie had always found motherly women to be a rarity and to see one so young was to do her heart good. Just viewing Juliet’s calm grace and pleasant demeanor toward the babes inside, made Aunt Sophie remember her own pregnancy, so many years ago. James, though, was enraptured by the thought of her, a Lanetet woman. He had, even in the capital, never viewed one. The Ambassador had been a widow, whose son managed his lands back in Lanet. Also, he couldn’t help but see the beauty in Juliet, but he saw her more as an angelic relic, too perfect to be real and so far and distant from the viewer, as opposed to a sexual creature.

Elliot averted his eyes from Juliet. Aunt Sophie knew that he saw his own wife in the girl, though Carrie and Juliet were as different as night and day. She herself knew that just a vision of someone pregnant or ailing was enough to evoke bittersweet memories of loved ones. She felt the tug herself, though her feelings were oddly more sweet then bitter at the moment.

The meal finally ended. Aunt Sophie cleaned off the table. Juliet rose to help, but Aunt Sophie stopped her.

“You will be rushing enough when the children come,” said Aunt Sophie. “Sit while you still can.”

The men had decided to start questioning Juliet, once Aunt Sophie was away from the table.

“What part of Lanet are you from?” asked James, moving closer.

“What do you plan to do now?” asked Elliot.

“How were you captured?”

“Where do you intend to live?”

“What was your slavery like?”

“How are you going to make a living?”

“Enough,” said Aunt Sophie, noticing that Juliet still stayed silent in her refusal to speak of her past. “She won’t give any answer.”

“Not to the school-master at least,” said Juliet. “My past is my concern, and noone else’s. As for my future, Mr. Welsh, I have my own plans.”

“And what would those be?” questioned Aunt Sophie.

“I have some jewels and gold in my bag, along with the purse I was given,” said Juliet. “Not to mention my silk gowns. Those should be enough to help me get started on my own house. And I am quite a skilled seamstress, and that should be able to supply some portion of my income.”

“And if it doesn’t,” asked Elliot, who had no idea if anyone would even pay a seamstress. The only women he truly knew were Aunt Sophie and Carrie. He had never seen Aunt Sophie pick up a needle, and Carrie had always sown all the clothes that the family wore. Elliot smiled bitterly at the memory of Carrie and Anne.

“If she is any good, she will make a steady living,” said Aunt Sophie. “Too few women here had any skill with a needle. Merchant’s wives will pay good for anyone who can make a nice outfit for them or their family.”

“And that I can,” said Juliet smugly.

“And you plan to live on your own?” asked James, who had remained quiet since she had refused to answer his questions.

“Of course,” said Juliet. “I have lived with people all my life, and find them to be too demanding of what I should do or be, I would like to be alone with just myself and ones that can make no demands.”

“Tots make plenty of demands,” replied Aunt Sophie. “And their wordless ones are worse then their spoken ones. I am with Master Karen, I don’t think you should live alone.”

“But I think I shall,” said Juliet. “Where else could I live? With a merchant or farmer, who has a wife and family? The school master?”

“Me,” said Aunt Sophie. “You could live with me. By my creed, I must help all those who need medical attention, and you meet the needs by a fair distance.”

“Madame,” said Juliet, rising from her seat. “I do not think that is a good idea. Nor is it a good idea for me to live with anyone else here in Denton.”

“And why is that?” asked Aunt Sophie.

“My name is self chosen,” said Juliet. “Few slaves give their true last names, mine is one of my ancestor’s. But I chose it for its meaning. Dovecot, the cage that houses those birds that are believed to be tame, yet once you open it, most will fly free and never think of returning. I am one of those birds, yet my cage door has yet to be open. But if I can’t open it, then the least I can do is crack and weaken it.” With that said, Juliet went into the room she had been in and took her bag. She stumbled and wobbled out of the door, into the crowd of people wishing to see her. She ambled down the road, never glancing back at the house. Aunt Sophie and James watched from the open door, a slight grimace on James’s face and a small smile on Aunt Sophie’s.

Once Juliet was out of eyeshot James asked Aunt Sophie a question.

“Madame Greene, do you think it is wise to let her live alone? She is so young, and not use to caring for herself or children,” James asked. Aunt Sophie just gave a very deep chuckle that lasted several minutes.

“That girl has more guts then the butcher,” she said. “And more balls then any male, including Elliot, in this entire town. If she had made it this far, she will make it all the way. Her past seems to guide.”

Elliot rose from the table and went to the door. Aunt Sophie and James made way for him to leave, which they knew was what he would do. Before leaving he turned to Aunt Sophie and James.

“But what way shall an untold past guide her,” was all he said, as he closed the door behind him.


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Author's Note: Different from my other stories I know. This story can be blamed on too much fanfiction and the Scarlet Letter. But, I really like this story.