Victoria (4)

An old woman came to the door.  She was hunched over with age and came up only to Aritka’s shoulder, but her face was filled with maternal instinct.  Her grey hair was drawn back under a scarf and her clothes were neat and practical.  Her wise, grey eyes looked at the black rider with recognition and passed to the young girl with a baby in her arms.  The old woman glanced in all directions and ushered the girl into the cottage. 

There was one large room.  A large pot simmered beside the fire in the fireplace.  There was a small table by the fire with herbs and diced vegetables arranged haphazardly.  A small overturned barrel made a stool near the spit of the fire.  There was a Laniston rug on the floor underneath the larger dining table.  From the ceiling hung flowers, herbs, and sprigs of evergreen.  Shelves lined the back wall, and set upon them were many little bottles and vials.  The room was very aromatic.

“Hadrian’s here,” she muttered to the old man sitting at the fire.  The wiry old man stood and went quickly to the door.  When he had gone out, the matron sat the girl on the barrel and hurried to get some milk out of the jug for the fussing child.  “How’s the child?” she asked.

“She is very hungry,” said Aritka.  The baby let out a wail and proceeded to cry properly.  “But I think she is okay, katinka.”

“Call me Geneeva.  You’ve come a long way, haven’t you, dear?” asked the woman.  “This is latis milk.”

“Not so far,” said Aritka, taking a steaming mug from the woman. 

“Your dialect is strange to this territory,” said the woman.  “I’d think you’re from the Kinly tribe.”

“You would be right,” said Aritka.  She sniffed the mug warily as she handed the child to the woman.

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To Be Continued....