CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Betrayal
“Who are you?” a voice asked curiously.
Maren opened her eyes to see a young girl standing in front of her. Yawning, she answered, “I’m Maren.”
“I’m Athas,” the girl said. “How did you get here?” She was fair-haired and blue-eyed, and seemed to display a constant expression of surprise. She wore a simple dress and apron that were not yet soiled from the day’s chores.
“I walked,” Maren answered, stretching out her stiff legs in front of her.
“Well, my mother told me that I have work to do but I saw you sleeping here.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re on our farm,” the girl answered. “I have to go pull weeds.”
Maren looked around and saw that she was not quite as hidden from the road as she previously thought. On either side of the cluster of hawthorn trees were rows of parsnips and radishes. She always hated pulling weeds at Gale Hill Farm, but today the idea appealed to her. “Can I help?” she asked.
Athas shrugged her shoulders and answered, “Okay,” before giggling and extending her hand to help the trespasser to her feet.
Standing face-to-face, Maren noticed how nicely combed the girl’s hair was and that her clothes were appropriate for outside work. She glanced down at her own dress and, for the first time, felt that maybe it wasn’t the best-suited outfit for garden work. Smoothing her own hair down, she asked, “Where should we start?”
The girl held onto Maren’s hand and led her to the eastern edge of the parsnip patch. From there, a small house came into view, and they could see her mother inspecting another field in the distance. “I like to whistle a song and see how many I can pull before it’s over,” she said, and began whistling.
Maren liked the tune and started pulling weeds out of the ground between the parsnip rows. As she did, she counted, hoping to reach a high number. When the song was over, she shouted, “Nineteen!”
“Thirty-two!” Athas claimed with a broad smile.
Maren suppressed a grin and gave a playful, Grrrrr. “Hey,” she said, then hesitated for a moment. “What should I do to be your friend?”
Athas paused and tilted her head. She took a quick but deep breath, then answered, “That’s a funny question.”
Maren felt embarrassed and reached up to begin massaging her ear. “I—” she began.
“You are already my friend,” the smiling girl interrupted.
“Oh…oh yeah,” Maren said, as if she had merely made a slight mistake when asking about friendship requirements. Wanting to have her faux pas forgotten as quickly as possible, she suggested, “How about if you whistle again and we’ll see how many weeds we can pull?”
“Okay,” Athas agreed, and she began whistling the same lovely tune as before.
The two of them spent most of the morning tending the parsnip and radish patches, stopping occasionally to point out an exceptionally large weed or to determine who was more productive during the span of a song. Eventually, Maren’s empty stomach got the best of her and she asked if her new friend had anything to eat.
“Sure,” the fair-haired girl answered. “I was thinking that it was a good time for a snack. Walk to my house with me.”
Maren was excited to see the inside of her new friend’s house and she skipped lightly alongside of her, whistling the tune they had been working to all morning. When they walked through the door, she noticed how nice the cottage smelled. “Smells like bluebell and butterfly-bush,” she commented.
Athas laughed, “That’s exactly what my mother set out this morning!”
Maren smiled but did not understand why the girl was laughing, so she simply nodded her head, hoping it was an appropriate response. “Uh huh,” was all she could say.
The home was well-furnished and had a large living area just inside the door. There was a hallway to the left, and just beyond the living area was a kitchen with a sturdy-looking table and chairs. Athas led Maren there and set out several slices of bread, some butter, and a bowl of jam. “I hope you like raspberry,” she said.
Maren didn’t say anything. She just reached for a slice of bread, spread a heaping dollop of jam on it, and ate it with large bites and little chewing. Her new friend also enjoyed the food, but with greater restraint.
Suddenly, a voice from the living area asked, “Who’s this?”
Athas sat up straight when she saw that her mother there. She quickly swallowed her food and answered, “This is my friend Maren.”
“I thought I told you to pull weeds this morning,” the woman said sternly.
The young girl’s eyebrows shot up, and she beamed, “She’s been helping me. We’ve been having lots of fun!”
Athas’s mother looked intently at the unusual girl from the kitchen doorway. After a short pause, she asked, “Where are you from?”
Maren felt uncomfortable and tried to make herself small by drawing her shoulders in. “Blackcloth,” she answered.
“Blackcloth?” the woman said as her head leaned back in surprise. “What are you doing on the eastern side of Aun?”
“Traveling,” she answered. She wanted to be honest, but didn’t want to let on that she was a slave.
“And where are your parents?” the woman continued to press.
“Not with me right now.”
Athas’s mother closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “Well, Maren, thank you for your help,” she began. “But when you’re finished with your bread and jam, you’re going to have to be on your way. My daughter has lots of chores to do today and she can’t be distracted.”
“But, Mother!” Athas protested.
Raising her voice to drown out her daughter’s, the woman interrupted, “You heard what I said. Finish your treat and say goodbye.” She then turned around and headed outside to continue her inspection of the fields.
Maren took another bite of her food. This time, a much smaller one,