Miryana

Contents

Acknowledgements

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

First of all, many thanks go to my parents, UllaBritt and Olle, who have watched this story unfold over the last twenty-five years. They are the only ones who have read the whole adventure, and I trust that they will encourage me to make the two sequels publishable as well.

Thanks also to my family – John, Angelika, Jakob, Emmalie, and Jonathan – for sharing space with Miryana all these years. I am pleased that my two families will finally meet.

I appreciate the patience of my extended family, colleagues, and friends, who by now must have begun to doubt that I really have been writing a book all this time. Many thanks, especially, to Laurie for the last minute photo shoot. I also truly appreciate my ten Writing Lab students, who have listened to daily reports about this project. May I be as encouraging to them as they have been to me.

Finally, I regret that my mother-in-law, June, did not get to read my novel. I know she would have loved it.

THE SETTING

This story takes place in the country of Numeria, in a time period that might remind the reader of the nineteenth century in our world. A map is included so that the reader can travel vicariously with Miryana.

THE PEOPLE

The characters are listed below in the order in which they are being introduced to the reader. Some characters are omitted because they are very minor; others might not be included because their introductions would prematurely give away the plot. A few of the characters might seem quite insignificant but are included because they will become important in one or both of the sequels.

• Miryana – the main character who has just turned seventeen at the beginning of the story. Her hometown is Merryl.

• Miryana’s mother

• Pedro – Miryana’s newborn brother

• Ludo – Mr. Bucklin’s guard dog

• Conrad – Mr. Bucklin’s driver

• Mr. Bucklin – a sixty-five-year-old gentleman who is one of the richest men in the country (Numeria)

• Mr. Koff – the richest factory owner in Merryl and one of Miryana’s many former employers

• Mr. Tydell – the manager of the first estate belonging to Mr. Bucklin that Miryana visits

• Mrs. Tydell – his wife

• Kathryn Tydell – their daughter and a future student at Mr. Bucklin’s private, exclusive university at his home, Manilla

• Mr. Sveck – the manager of the Bervald Estate, belonging to Mr. Bucklin

• Pontus Quist– a worker at the Bervald Estate

• Simon – another worker at the Bervald Estate

• Helen – Simon’s wife

• Cyper – the chief of a gang of thieves from Kibala, the major city on the west coast

• Mrs. Quist – Pontus’s wife

• Mr. Ridge – the owner of the first estate Miryana arrives at that does not belong to Mr. Bucklin

• Mrs. Ridge – his wife

• Esmeralda Ridge – their older daughter

• Celia – a slave at Ridges’ Estate, serving as a stand-in chambermaid due to the number of guests when Mr. Bucklin and Miryana visit

• Robin Strand – engaged to Esmeralda and a third-year student at Manilla University

• Mr. Victor Strand – Robin’s father

• Sanna – a woman working on one of Mr. Bucklin’s smaller estates on the west coast

• John – a slave on the same estate, wishing to marry Sanna

• Mr. Preston – a prominent banker in Kibala

• Hugo – the chief of the other gang of thieves in Kibala, and Cyper’s enemy

• Stephen Cyper – Cyper’s son

• Matthew – one of Hugo’s thieves

• Mrs. Strand – Mr. Strand’s wife and Robin’s mother

• Mr. Mint – Mr. Bucklin’s trusted attorney

• Priscilla Sandell – the young wife of a wealthy mine owner

• Dr. Green – Mr. Bucklin’s doctor

• Rio Koff – the son of the wealthy Mr. Koff, who owns half of the factories in Merryl

• Mr. Krantz – the manager (and butler) of Manilla, Mr. Bucklin’s home

• Mrs. Krantz – Mr. Krantz’s wife and manager of the Manilla household

• Mrs. Preston – the wife of Mr. Preston, a prominent banker in Kibala

• Todd – a third-year student at the Manilla University

• Melinda Forest – a third-year student at the university and a very good friend of Esmeralda Ridge

• Tirina Koff – Rio’s wife

• Elmer Koff – Rio and Tirina’s son

• Ida – the Koffs’ nanny

• Therese – Todd’s fiancée

• Tobias Mint – Attorney Mint’s twelve-year old son

• Mrs. Mint – Attorney Mint’s wife and Tobias’s mother

• Visitors from Kibala: the mayor, Robin’s maternal grandparents, Mrs. Preston, her fifteen-year-old daughter, and her eleven-year-old son

• Royalty: king, queen, young adult crown prince, and two princesses, ages twelve and ten

• Sonya – a chambermaid slave

• Mr. Tingora – a prominent slave trader in Kibala and Priscilla Sandell’s father

• Master – an old artist, known for painting cityscapes

• Manty – a portrait painter, working in the same studio as Master

• Sophie – a freed slave, previously imported from Kaster

• Jesper – a six-year-old boy from the Glinda Estate, owned by Mr. Bucklin

• Felicia – Jesper’s three-year-old sister

• Anita – the children’s neighbor

• Peter – Jesper’s best friend

I

Miryana, don’t be foolish; I…we are both going to die anyway!

My mother’s words penetrated me as I hurried to get help. The neighbor women were gathering in the morning hour the way they always did, the way they always would, and they shook their heads as I rushed by them. There is no use, they would say once again if I had paused to hear them. You should pay attention to your work and take care of yourself! There is nothing else to do.

It was easy for them to say. They all had each other. Everybody else had a family. The small apartments in the eastern city wall that we called our homes were filled with mothers and grandmothers and children – and a few men – and loneliness was never a threat for anyone else. But it was for me. It was just mother and I, and if I did not do anything soon, it would just be me.

I stumbled over two little boys who were hiding a loaf of bread, which they surely had not paid for. When my bare feet accidentally stepped on their treasure, they pulled it away with such a force that I fell and scraped my knee. I gave them a sour look but was on my way before they had a chance to react. I ran through the slums, barely noticing that blood from my new scrape was sticking to my torn dress.

Smoke was already coming out of the factory chimneys, and I shuddered at the thought of my many long, painful hours by the machines. Our city, Merryl, was known for our developing industry, but nobody seemed to think about the people who made the businesses flourish. Though I was out of breath from running, I was steaming from resentment of the callous owners and managers who cared little of a young woman whose mother was dying.

As I continued westward, I reached the homes of the middle-class families. I was still in known territory; on few occasions, I had found employment in one of these houses as a maid or a nanny. Those had been the good days, and I had always cried bitterly when I had been fired from such a position. Unfortunately, I had never secured an employment long enough for someone to sympathize with me and give me time off for the little emergencies that always seemed to come my way.

It was not until I reached the town square that reason caught up with me, and I came to a quick halt. What was I thinking? I loosened my hair ribbon and rebraided my hair while wiping the sweat from my face. The water fountain was at the center of the square, and I concluded that there was no way on earth that I would walk past all the stands to wash my bloody knee. I carefully separated my dress from the wound and looked disgustedly at my dirty feet. What an idiot I had been! My mother was home alone, maybe dead by now. What was I thinking? Up until this point, nobody had paid much attention to the poor girl running by. Even as I walked through the square, I might go unnoticed, for this was the place where rich and poor met. However, once I left the square and continued westward, on the streets of the rich, I would not get too far before someone stopped me and asked me whom I was running away from. I had never been west of the city square, for nobody sought employment in a gentleman’s home without a worthy recommendation. And I would never, ever be recommended to work in a rich man’s house.

I do not know how long I stood there, looking out over the square, but I was there when the stands opened and well-dressed servant girls rushed to get their morning shopping done. I saw the barber changing his sign and the dressmaker unlocking her door. An inviting café was soon filled by men in shiny suits and ladies in swaying dresses. The carriages were driven by pairs of horses that looked as important as the coachmen sitting behind them. It was early summer, and it was going to be a warm day. If my feet would only carry me to the fountain so I could get a drink! But that was probably not allowed. There was nobody else over there drinking the water, was there?

Instead, my feet did the only thing they could do; they turned my body around. It was time for me to face reality and go home. I was better off sitting by my mother’s side until she suffered no more than trying to save her.

I had been standing in front of a bank, and as I turned toward it, I was suddenly facing an enormous dog with golden fur and a huge dripping tongue. The beast was sitting next to a coachman on the coachbox of the largest carriage I had ever seen. The wagon was not longer than a regular carriage, but it was wider. The driver was well dressed, but his back was hunched and his beard was bushy. The carriage and its driver were only images in the background, however, for the dog was right in my face. I had the sense that it was accusing me of invading its space, and I took an involuntary step backward. The beast made no noise, but its eyes were staring me down, and I found myself almost apologizing to the dog. How had the carriage driven past me and the coachman stepped down to open the door for his master two steps behind me without my having noticed? Indeed, I had wasted time; I needed to go home!

I turned my back to the overbearing animal and tried to remember if I had come from the street to my left or the one to my right when I saw the master of the carriage exiting the bank. He was as elegant as his carriage, and as he hurried toward us, his driver was instantly standing on the ground to open the door. Not wanting to be in the way, I decided to choose the street to my right since it would take me away from the rich man.

However, before I could take a step, I heard the gentleman’s urgent order: And now to the hospital.

There was no time to think about it. I had made it this far and mother needed help. There simply was only one thing to do. Without looking up at the rich man with the dry voice, I threw myself facedown before his feet two seconds before he was to step up into his carriage.

Sir! I pleaded. Please let me ride with you to the hospital! I am in a hurry, and I don’t know my way!

The first one to react was the dog. It was instantly on top of me, barking threateningly and ready to bite if I dared to stir. I felt one paw on my back, pushing me down so that my mouth touched the dirty street, and the other front paw held down my hair. I dared not breathe and waited to die.

Ludo, let go! Come here!

It must have been the coachman’s voice, and the dog obeyed. The gentleman finally spoke, and his voice was now even more impatient, hurried, and cold than it had been a minute earlier.

Get up and move. I doubt that we are going to the same hospital.

I rose but did not move. Without looking up, I gathered all the courage I could find to defy the gentleman though I recognized that I was behaving worse than inappropriate.

Sir, I whispered, for my throat was dry from fear and from swallowing the dust off the street. "We are on our way to the same hospital. My mother is very ill and about to give birth. She is the only one I have; she just cannot die!"

And how are you planning to pay for her care? There was utter disdain in his voice, and the spite that had caused me to get in trouble so many times before made me raise my head and look into his eyes. As soon as our eyes met, however, I knew that I was dealing with a man unlike any other gentleman I had ever crossed paths with before. Many a time I had been called into the manager’s office (or the factory owner’s office if I had behaved really badly) to be beaten and then fired. My refusal to take the blame for mistakes I had not made or to accept cruel work environments had stirred even the most even-tempered men. I was used to the beatings being accompanied by furious harangues.

This rather short man, though his suit and hat seemed worn, instantly conveyed to me that it was below him to talk to bare-footed girls on the street. His eyes, his face, and his voice were cold as ice. The mustache covered his mouth, which I was convinced had never formed a smile, nor was it accustomed to reprimand anyone, for nobody contradicted this man. I had no longer any desire to get in his way, and I was now looking for a way out so that I could turn and run. I would absolutely not tell this man how I was hoping to pay for my mother’s care.

Forgive me, Sir, I answered and lowered my head once more. I had no right disturbing you.

How could the dog possibly know that I was being disobedient to his master? The beast left the coachman’s side and moved closer to me. An almost inaudible growl sounded from his throat.

How did you intend to pay for your mother’s care? the gentleman asked again. The tone in his voice had changed to a quiet threat, and I knew I had to tell him.

With my freedom, Sir. I swallowed before I continued. I had saved this reply for a doctor who would be able to help me, and though I had no idea who this man was, I knew he was the last person on earth that I would want to disclose my plan to. Nevertheless, I looked down on a ferocious set of teeth that were ready to bite on command, so I continued, trembling: I am going to sell myself as a slave, as long as mother gets the care she needs.

Do you have your worker’s permit?

My worker’s permit. The document he asked me for was a curse for us workers but a useful tool for our masters. We could not apply for a position without it, for we needed to provide proof of having been born in Merryl. That was the excuse we were given for needing a permit, but I was sure nobody cared about where we were born. The reason we hated the document so much was the fact that it listed our entire work history. Since our employer held on to the paper during our employment, nobody could quit without facing her master. The master wrote down the reason for leaving, and of course no master would note that the servant was unhappy. Instead, the worker would have to leave each employment with yet another note of having been fired. Naturally, I had my permit with me. How else would I be able to turn my life over to the doctor who would be willing to save my life? I reached into my apron pocket and handed the document to the rich man. I could not hinder a few furious tears as I still stared down at the guard dog and knew that my life was being disclosed to a complete stranger.

I was not given many moments to dwell on my misery, however, for suddenly, the coachman grabbed my arm and forced me into the carriage. He pushed me down on the seat, and the dog followed closely behind. The rich man sat down as well, and his driver stood in the door. Three pairs of eyes were fixed on me when the gentleman spoke. This time, there was an added element in his voice. If I had not known better, I would have thought that there was an trace of fear.

"Miryana Tilt, look at me and tell me the real reason for your crossing my path."

I stared up into his eyes and my mouth fell open. As usual, the dog forced me to speak though I was at a loss for words.

Sir! Why would I make this up? What other reason would I possibly have to stop you? My mother is at home dying! Please, Sir. I am so sorry for my trespasses, but surely, I haven’t broken any laws? Please, Sir, let me have my permit back and let me go! I could not look into the stone face any longer, and I lowered my eyes.

This time, the coachman spoke, and there were emotions in his voice: I wouldn’t be playing any tricks, Missy! Look up and tell him what you’re up to!

Sir, I’m not playing any tricks! Go with me to my room in the eastern wall and see for yourself! Mother is probably already dead by now! Please, please let me go!

The driver looked up at his master who must have signaled something, for now the driver walked out of the carriage and closed the door behind us. We were soon on our way, and I sat silently, waiting for my doom.

Miryana Tilt, the man said again. It seemed as if he were stressing my last name, almost as if my name were my crime. Explain to me how you can possibly have been fired forty-three times at the age of seventeen.

I felt sick to my stomach. I had never ridden in a carriage before, and my worries for mother mixed with my hunger and my fear were a distressing combination.

Sir, lately it has been because mother has been so sick. Most of the times I was fired because I thought she would leave me, and I didn’t want to be away when it happened. Sometimes I was fired because I broke something or made mistakes…

And sometimes you were defiant, the gentleman concluded coolly as he glanced over the document.

I watched in horror as the permit made its way into the inside pocket of his jacket. Had the dog’s teeth not been right by my hand, I would have reached out to snatch it.

Now tell me, the interview continued, what will you do if your mother dies and the child lives? I am certainly not allowing you to bring a child along.

His words cut through me and drained me of the trace of hope that had been left. Gone also were my dignity and fear of the dog. I threw myself down from the seat and ignored the growling beast.

Please, Sir! I cried. You can’t do this to me! You can’t punish me for coming in your way! Let me go! There is no way I am signing my life over to you! Just please, please let me go!

So I take it there is no sick mother waiting for you then?

This man seemed to be an intelligent man, but there was absolutely no logic in his reasoning. I flew back up on my seat and tried to calm down though anger was trying to overtake me:

Sir! Of course my mother is waiting for me! I realize now that I should not have bothered you! You seemed to be in such a hurry, so just stop the carriage and let me out. I won’t ever, ever enter the west side of town again! You people have different rules; I see that now. I’m sorry!

He did not answer me but looked out the window just as the carriage stopped. I looked out as well and saw a stately brick building. The coachman was instantly at the door, and the gentleman stood up.

Conrad will take you in one of the hospital’s wagons, he said matter-of-factly. If there is indeed a sick mother, I will have the papers ready for you to sign when you return. There will be no other options for you. If you have lied to me, or if you refuse to sign the papers, I will find a much darker and smaller place for you to stay than where you live now.

It amazed me how quickly there was another carriage ready for us. Two hospital workers rode with us, and I had to sit on the coachbox to show the way. Ludo sat between Conrad and me, still growling threateningly. I looked up at the driver, and he met my glance with serious, but not angry eyes.

If it is true what you’re telling us, Miryana, he sighed, you have just made the biggest mistake in your life. Nobody gets in Mr. Bucklin’s way! What were you thinking?

Mr. Bucklin. Where had I heard that name before? Oh yes, I remembered:

Four summers earlier, I had been employed at the city hotel as a laundry maid. I was learning how to iron and burned a whole in somebody’s shirt. It was the owner of the hotel himself who gave me a good beating before I was let go. It was bad enough that I had ruined a shirt, but Mr. Bucklin’s shirt! Unforgivable!

Almost exactly a year later, I had served two middle-class ladies tea and heard them fervently discussing Mr. Bucklin. I recognized the name and heard how the son of one of the ladies had actually attended a dinner with the famous man. The youth had shared that shaking the gentleman’s hand had been like touching ice, and there had been no emotion in his eyes.

Yet another year later, also in the beginning of the summer, I had comforted a woman in the factory where I was currently working. Her son had been fired by Mr. Bucklin, and the woman was certain that nobody would ever hire someone who did not know how to behave for Mr. Bucklin. In other words, there could not be much good in a man who would not take orders from him!

Then it occurred to me that I had actually met the man myself once. Surely he could not remember the meeting? I was being fired by Mr. Koff, the tyrant of our city. He owned half of the factories in the city, so with my steady change of employment, it had finally become impossible to avoid getting a position under his regime. Working in his shoe factory, I had cut a whole stack of soles wrong, and in addition to firing me, Mr. Koff found it necessary to strike my back five times with his notorious cane. After I had buttoned up my dress, I had hurried out of his office and stumbled into somebody. A moment of chaos had followed. Mr. Koff had slapped me across my face and pushed me out of the door, his voice first screaming at me and then apologizing to his guest. Both Mr. Bucklin’s name and mine had been included in his sentence. Of course I had remembered Mr. Bucklin’s name due to my constant encounters with it, but why would the man with the stone face bother to submit an annoying worker’s name to his memory?

Am I being punished for past mistakes? I had to ask Conrad as we were passing Mr. Koff’s factories. Is Mr. Bucklin adding it all up? The hole I burned in his shirt, running into him at Mr. Koff’s office last year, and now this? Do rich people have such rights? Can he really do that?

Conrad gave me a puzzled look: You’ve got us going, girl. You’ve got me thinking that you really have no idea what this is all about! You’re quite an actress, I have to say! But show me where to go now. And no tricks when we get there!"

I sighed and looked down on my surprised neighbors. If they could only help me out and speak for me! But if Conrad would not tell me what I was really being accused of, surely he would not tell them. As soon as we stopped in front of our small room, I jumped down and ran inside. Ludo followed me, and then Conrad. There was sincere relief in his eyes when he discovered that there really was a dying mother waiting for me. She shook her head in protest when the men lifted her up on a stretcher.

You silly girl! she whispered. How on earth did you pay for this? Listen, Miryana, the baby is already dead, I know it! Let me die, too! Don’t get yourself in debt for me; it’s no use!

Then something remarkable happened. Conrad took her hand and wiped her wet forehead with his handkerchief.

His voice was soft: Ma’m, Miryana has already paid for your care. Don’t you worry! Come with us now. Miryana, why don’t you pick up a little before we go?

I knew what he meant. I would not be coming back. Was there anything I needed to bring with me? I grabbed my one and only book and decided that if mother would survive, she would need the few belongings we had more than I would. Even if mother survived, I was losing her. This was not turning out the way I had planned! As a slave girl at the hospital, I might still have been able to visit her. As Mr. Bucklin’s slave, who knew where I would end up?

Before I stepped into the carriage to sit with my mother, Conrad put his arms around me and whispered in my ear: Don’t get her all worked up now! Just tell me, and tell me the truth; why isn’t your father around to take care of her?

He didn’t want another child, I muttered. I prefer not to talk about him! He was only home long enough to get her pregnant, and then he disappeared again. I’ve got no idea where he is!

Conrad did not answer, and I sat down next to my mother. When I saw the exchanging of subtle glances between the two hospital workers, I knew that the troubles of my morning had all been in vain. My plan might have been a good one a month or so ago. Maybe they could have saved her then. I held my mother’s hand and whispered reassuringly though I knew that there was no assurance to offer either one of us.

As soon as we got to the hospital, they carried my mother away, and Conrad brought me into an office where Mr. Bucklin and a doctor waited. The gentleman looked questioningly up at Conrad’s face, and when he was confident that I had told the truth, he acted quickly. He was a businessman, and to him, this was all business.

The papers are ready, Miryana. Sign here so that the doctor can help her. If she dies, I’ll pay for her funeral instead.

I know she’s going to die! I pleaded. Please forget my deal! Whatever it cost to bring her here, I’ll repay!

I turned around to ask Conrad to say something on my behalf, but he was gone. I forced myself to look into Mr. Bucklin’s eyes again to seek his mercy, but there was only impatient anger in them.

Miryana, your mother is dying without you! Sign here so that you can follow the doctor into her room. Certainly you cannot prefer to spend the rest of your years locked up?

I opened my mouth to protest, but we were interrupted by a nurse. When I watched her immense respect for Mr. Bucklin, I was reminded that this man was no ordinary gentry. Though it was apparent that the woman had urgent news, she would not speak until the doctor nodded for her to do so. Even then, she was very apologetic, and she found the need to address Mr. Bucklin first.

Forgive me, Sir! The woman is about to give birth, and she is asking for her daughter…if it is convenient, Sir, can she come? Doctor, will you be able to come, for it is…not good…I’m sorry for interrupting, Sir!

My heart sank. Evidently, I had broken all the rules with my behavior that morning! I had never been among the truly rich before; maybe it was a crime to get in a gentleman’s way? Though I had a strong sense that there was something else behind Mr. Bucklin’s response to my misdemeanor, I decided to accept my punishment and my fate. I had to say farewell to my mother, and I would not get to see her unless I signed my life away. After all, nothing else would ever matter if I did not get to see my mother one last time. Without another word, I picked up the pen and signed the document without reading a single word of it. The doctor wasted no time; as soon as I had crossed my t, he took my arm and led me through the clean, light halls to my mother’s room.

There was no time to talk. Mother did not scream, but silent tears ran down her face. Her grip on my hand was hard at first, but it loosened as time went by. It took all of her strength to push her baby out, and I thought I had lost her. But when the baby came out screaming, my mother’s eyes opened wide.

Is that my child? she whispered. It can’t be! Miryana, what are you going to do?

The nurse, who had no idea that we had expected a dead child, smiled encouragingly at us and hurried to wash the little boy. She placed him on mother’s chest.

He is small, but he is going to be all right!

The doctor was not smiling. He signaled to the nurse to follow him out so that we would have time to say goodbye. Mother lent my little brother her finger, and he held on to it. I painted that picture in my memory and would bring it back every day, every hour in the months to come.

Mother’s words would follow me forever: You’ve got to promise me to take care of him, Miryana! His name is Pedro…after your grandfather. Miryana, how will you be able to do this? You can’t work and stay home, too!

I knew there was no use trying to fool mother. To try to calm her down and say that she would be all right and only needed some rest would have made her more worried, for she knew she was dying. I took her free hand, and while I was still looking for something to say, she closed her eyes and left me alone with Pedro. I lifted him up and held him close to my chest.

"Mr. Bucklin simply has to let me keep you! I whispered. He might be the coldest man on earth, but nobody, nobody would leave a newborn child uncared for, right?"

As soon as the doctor returned, I hurried up to him, but my desperate crying hindered me from making the plea I had hoped to. I wanted him to buy me from Mr. Bucklin, but I could not emit a single word. The doctor did not seem to be unsympathetic in any way but was too stressed to deal with my emotions.

Listen, Miryana. Things are not as bad as they seem! No, hear me out! In a room down the hall, there is a young couple who has just lost their baby! They had a boy, but he didn’t make it an hour. What’s even more tragic about the whole thing is that the father got sick a few months back and will not be able to father any more children. They don’t want to leave the hospital without a baby to show the world. They’ll adopt your brother! Miryana, this is an extremely rich couple, and your brother will never want for anything! You just have got to let him go! Here, give him to me now, and promise never to try to find him. You’ve got to take my word for it; he’s going to be well taken care of! Miryana, give me the baby! The nurse will come in with clothes for you in a moment; you should wash up. Mr. Bucklin is waiting. Give me the child!

Realizing I had no other choice but to concede, I kissed my brother on his forehead and handed him over to the doctor. But I had to make sure that he was telling the truth. As soon as he closed the door behind him, I opened it quietly and watched him until I saw which door he entered through. I waited for the nurse to bring me my clothes, but I did not take time to change. First I had to see Pedro’s family. I hurried quietly to the room that had swallowed up my brother, and quietly, quietly, I opened it and slipped inside.

I stood with my back pressed against the wall and made sure that nobody had noticed me. The mother was sitting up in her bed, and her new child, my brother, had already snuggled up with her. By her bedside, with her back turned toward me, sat a middle-aged lady, who I supposed was the new grandmother. The father was standing and happened to turn around for a moment. When he spotted me, he rushed up to me and pulled me out in the hallway. As he closed the door behind us, the grandmother turned around, and our eyes met. She looked like a kind grandmother, but I was certain that she would not be kind to a poor girl who tried to invade their newfound happiness. The same could be said about the young man who held a firm grip on my arm and asked what my errand was as soon as the door was shut behind us.

Sir! I whispered. His name is Pedro, and he’s my brother! Please take good care of him! I sold my freedom so that mother would…

I was interrupted by a sharp strike across my ear. Everything went black for a moment, but I heard the doctor’s apologies to the man as he led me back into mother’s room. He struck me again, forcing me to sit down, and the words that gushed out of his mouth were the angriest diatribe I had ever been the receiver of.

"What do you think you’re doing? What is it you don’t understand? Filthy girl! Look at you! Obviously, the family was not supposed to know that their child comes from the slums! You might have ruined your brother’s future! Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you? Is this the way you’re planning on behaving for Mr. Bucklin? You just better not! What’s the matter with you? Don’t you understand how lucky you are? What do you think would have happened if you had walked up to a doctor here and asked to sell yourself? I can think of several colleagues who would have welcomed the idea and used you for their pleasure. Can’t you see what an idiot you have been? With Mr. Bucklin, you’ll be safe. Not happy, but safe! But he’s waiting for you now, and you’re not even dressed! Don’t you ever tell him that you visited your brother’s room and met his family. You’ve got to promise me that!"

I uttered some words of regret, and the doctor dragged me over to the washbowl. I still felt dizzy from the beating and had to lean on the stand, but there was something I had to ask the doctor.

"Doctor, please tell me who Mr. Bucklin is! Did I really break the law just by hindering him to step into his carriage? I understand that I deserved a beating, but he threatened jail! That just can’t be right!"

The doctor’s hand was already on the door handle, but he let go of it and stared at me with complete disbelief.

You don’t seriously mean that you have no idea who Mr. Bucklin is?

When I shook my head, he took his handkerchief out to wipe his face, and he gave me a worried look, the way mother would have looked at me when she sent me on a very important errand.

"Hear me now, Miryana, listen good: Next to His Majesty, Mr. Bucklin is the richest man in the country! He travels to see all his estates during the summer. His journey has just begun. He’ll never beat you…like I just did; in fact, he’d be furious if he found out I touched you; but believe me, you don’t want to let him know what happened just now, for your own good! No, if you misbehave, he’ll get rid of you instead. You say you don’t know what your crime is; that I have a very hard time to believe. I’m going to let that one be. All I can say is, it’s a wonder he didn’t put you in jail. If he decides to get rid of you, he’ll have to sell you on the west coast and ship you overseas. You wouldn’t want that. Not with your looks and your body if you know what I mean. So be thankful that things went as well as they did. You’re at his mercy now, but it could be much worse, and it will be much worse if you don’t get washed up and changed now!"

When the doctor closed the door behind him, I had more questions than answers. Both he and Conrad had alluded to the fact that I should know what I had done wrong, something much worse than falling down in front of Mr. Bucklin’s face. But what? Why could they just not tell me what I had done that was so unforgivingly wrong? But I could not think about that now. Mr. Bucklin was the richest man in the country! Yet I could not hurry. My head was pounding from the beatings and my hunger. My mother’s lifeless body still lay on the bed behind me, and I would soon have to say my last farewell to her. I stared at the washbowl and tried to focus. Before I washed, I scoped up some of the lukewarm water and drank. Quenching my thirst helped a little, and the touch of the warm water on my hands helped me to get started. There was soap, too! I washed old and new tears from my cheeks, and I did not want to remove the washcloth from my face. Then I happened to look down at the clothes that the nurse had brought, and I turned instinctively to mother. I began talking to her before I remembered that she was dead, but I continued even after I realized it. I just had to talk out loud.

"Look, Mother! Look at this dress; have you ever seen anything so lovely…and new undergarments and stockings…can you imagine, I have to wear stockings in the summer! And look, brand-new shoes! I’ve got to wash up all the way before I put on all these new clothes! And my hair…oh how I wished that you could wash my hair for me…there’s a comb right here. If you could only comb my hair!"

I could not remember ever having felt so clean. I got dressed while my hair was still wet and began to untangle my long hair. That was how the nurse found me, sorting through my tangled hair. As soon as I saw her horrified look, I was brought back to reality. I was a slave, and my master’s journey was delayed because of me, and here I was pretending to be a lady!

I’ll only be a minute! I promised.

"You don’t have a minute! You’ll have to finish on the way. Mr. Bucklin is waiting in the carriage! He was supposed to leave town this morning, and look, it’s almost five! I wouldn’t want to be you, I’m telling you! Go!"

I did not want to be me either. I kissed my mother and rushed out of the hospital.

Ludo came running toward me, but this time he welcomed me with his wet tongue. I let my hand glide through his fur and followed him gratefully to the coachbox, but Conrad stopped me.

No, Miryana, you’ll be riding in the carriage. No, hush now! He doesn’t have any patience for any more protests.

I forced back new tears and stepped into the carriage. Where there had only been empty floor space between the seats that morning, there was now a table. Indeed, this was not an ordinary carriage, but then again, Mr. Bucklin was not an ordinary man. He had opened up his newspaper on the table, and he did not look up when I entered. I tried to be as quiet and discreet as possible when I finished combing my hair, but tiny drops of water landed on the newspaper, causing my master to look up at me over his glasses. When he saw what I was doing, he went back to his reading without a word. Since his eyes always seemed to have the same expression, it was hard to estimate exactly how angry he was with me at this point. I braided my hair and looked out the window, wondering if any one of all those fancy houses might belong to Pedro’s new family. I could not take my eyes off the stately buildings, proud monuments, and lovely gardens. Then we drove past a magnificent building with a sign reading Trift University, and I gasped at the sight. I had heard of this school and dreamt of seeing it for myself, and now I could not let the building out of my sight. I leaned out the window to see it for a few more seconds before other buildings blocked my view. Would my brother be attending the university? If he were to be given that opportunity, then my transaction with Mr. Bucklin would have been well worth it all.

I suddenly remembered myself and sat back properly in my seat. Without a word, Mr. Bucklin moved the newspaper toward his half of the table and placed a small package and a bottle on my side. I had not eaten since noontime the day before, so it was difficult for me not to tear the package open. The bread smelled fresh, and there was cheese! When had I last had cheese? I whispered a thank you and tried to eat slowly. A trace of hope entered my heart. Maybe, just maybe, my life was not going to be that dreadful after all? I knew not yet what Mr. Bucklin was planning on doing with me, but I promised myself that whatever it was, I would behave in such a way that he would not be displeased.

When I was finished eating, Mr. Bucklin carefully folded up the newspaper and equally carefully placed his glasses first in a case and then in his front pocket. Then he finally spoke.

We will never again talk of today’s events, is that clear? he began.

Yes, Sir.

Do not ask Conrad about what happened today, do you hear me?

Yes, Sir.

Did you notice that I changed your surname?

Once again, I could only stare at him. His changing my name had certainly not been the strangest thing that had happened that day, but why would my master bother? When would I ever use my surname? I shook my head to answer his question.

As he continued, he looked carefully at me, almost as if he were expecting a very specific reaction: Your new name is Waldorf. I detest the name Tilt and refuse to own a slave by that name.

By all means. Whatever he wanted my name to be was fine. I nodded and looked out the window just as we were exiting the city. This would be either the western or the southern city gate. I lived right next to the eastern gate, and we were definitely not in the poor people’s quarters. To the north was the river instead of a wall, and we were not passing by the factories. It had been over a century since Meryll had needed protection by city walls, and now the city extended far beyond its walls. I had never been outside the walls, and I could not help but feel a sense of adventure in the midst of all my misery.

Would it be possible for me to continue my directions?

I jumped and immediately turned my attention to my master again. He seemed to expect me to look at him when he spoke, but it was difficult for me to fix my eyes on his, for they were unwelcoming and searching at the same time. I sensed that he did not trust me and that he was looking for the reason why he should not. And really, why should he? He knew that I had been fired forty-seven times, sometimes for being defiant. Already, he had seen enough defiance to see for himself how unpredictable I was. Yet he wanted me to look him in the eye; how was I supposed to do that?

I will tell you of my plans, Miryana, and I do not like to repeat my orders. Are you listening?

Yes, Sir! Focus, Miryana, focus!

In a few hours, we will stop for supper. You need to cook so that Conrad can rest. Then we will continue and reach an inn in time for breakfast. By traveling at night, we will make up for the hours that we lost in Merryl today. We will continue our journey, and by this time tomorrow evening, we will have arrived at my next estate according to schedule. Your assignment is to take care of our luggage and make sure that food is packed for us. With you around, Conrad will only have to worry about himself when we stop. The innkeeper’s wife will give you the directions that you need to carry out your work. I am not enthusiastic about needing a housekeeper, and I am far from certain that you are the right choice. When I can no longer put up with you, I will dispose of you.

I was convinced that I had not been purchased because Mr. Bucklin needed a housekeeper. I was being punished for a crime I was unaware of having committed. In any event, I decided to make sure that Mr. Bucklin would not feel the need to dispose of me. Certainly, I had the skills to be a traveling housekeeper. There was nobody else to worry about now. I just needed to pay attention and submit myself to his orders. The thought of traveling all night was not appealing, however. Why was his schedule so inflexible? How could he possibly prefer sticking with his schedule to enjoying a comfortable night at a hotel? The thought that it was thanks to me that he would have to ride all night was not comforting.

I am sorry that I have delayed your plans, I felt obliged to say.

Apologize to Conrad, was the short answer. He will be driving day and night thanks to you. We will have new horses tomorrow morning, but he is my only driver.

When we stopped a couple of hours later, I did what Mr. Bucklin had asked me to do. While Conrad started the fire so that I could warm the soup up, I made sure to let him know that I was aware of how I had inconvenienced them both.

He put his arm around me and smiled though his eyes were sad: I’ll be fine, Miryana. If you know what you’re doing, I’ll get a few minutes of rest now, and then again in the morning. It won’t be the first time I’ll pull an all-nighter.

I watched in amazement as he stretched out on the grass and began to snore within a minute. There was absolutely no way I would be able to sleep out in the wilderness with not a single house in sight. I shuddered at the thought. If Mr. Bucklin decided to leave me here, I would simply die of fear. I let out a cry of fright when a squirrel scurried up a tree, and I discovered that we were about to share our meal with a parade of ants. I brushed the creeps away and woke Conrad up. Mr. Bucklin returned from a short walk and sat down on a rock. Why, I could not help asking myself, would this gentleman settle for soup and bread on a rock by the highway when he could dine with rich people at a city hotel? How could his schedule possibly be more important than comfort?

There were other observations that amazed me as well. Though Conrad was Mr. Bucklin’s servant, and it was obvious that they lived two very different lives, they seemed to be old friends. They were both in their sixties, I guessed. While Mr. Bucklin spread out a napkin in his lap and ate slowly and Conrad spilled soup in his beard without seeming to notice, they spoke about the journey ahead as equals. I concluded that there could be much worse ways to spend the summer than traveling with two old men.

Miryana! The sharp tint to Mr. Bucklin’s voice suggested that it was not the first time he said my name. Take care of the dishes down by the river so that we can get going.

I flew up and hurried to obey orders, but I would not let the men out of my sight. When Mr. Bucklin disappeared into the carriage, and Conrad walked toward the coachbox, I panicked and dropped the spoons into the river. Without taking the time to look for them, I ran back to the carriage, screaming all the way.

Don’t leave without me! Conrad, wait! Please don’t leave!

Conrad jumped down from the coachbox with a blanket in his hand. I imagined that a grandfather would have the kind of eyes that I now looked into. I welcomed another warm embrace from him and let my tears wet his shirt.

"We weren’t leaving you; what made you think that? I just dug out a blanket from underneath my seat. But hush! You can’t be behaving like this! Mr. Bucklin is not used to any disrespect; do you hear me? Get the things together and let’s go. And listen: don’t take the time