A Tremble in her Step

Little did she know when she bid him goodbye, her life would turn upside down soon. 

Her husband had left for war about a month ago. They had gotten married but a fortnight before that. He did not wish to wait a single day after she turned sixteen!

He was a friend of her father’s and she was betrothed to him since infancy. She had been brought up on the stories of his brave adventures. He was retired from the army, which meant he’d have all more time for her! He had never gotten a chance to be married owing to his extensive travels with the troop.

“Serve him to the best of your abilities,” her father used to say, “He’s a great man and a great soldier. He will keep you happy.”

Her mind fled her present, into that gloomy, overcast day. As thunder rolled across the sky, she had looked at her husband, his face hidden in darkness. “I thought you were retired. Were you not, my Lord?” She had asked. “Why then have they summoned you?”

“It is an extraordinary war, my dear. The King needs his best soldiers.” Pride glimmered in his eyes.

“But my Lord,” she had sat at his feet, “What about your leg? It hasn’t even healed properly. How can you fight?”

“Don’t you worry about that darling,” He had pulled her up beside him, “I’ll be back before you can even shut the door properly! And, I shall buy you a necklace when I return.” She had giggled and pushed him away.

When he finally stood at the door, she had laughed again. Who could blame her? He always treated her like a child more than a wife. “Look, my Lord, it’s raining again! The Gods must be pleased with us!” She had exclaimed, “They have surely blessed you with good luck at the helm of your journey!”

It felt as if someone had dragged her by the hair and thrown her onto harsh reality, as she looked around her. Several villagers had gathered at her door. The boyish soldier on the porch refused to look at her.

“Who could have predicted such a disaster!” Lamented her father. “I should have died instead of him!” 

She gasped and went up to him. Her father hurriedly took a few steps back. 

“Keep your inauspicious hands to yourself! Do not forget you’re a widow now!” A woman whispered in her ear. She stared back at the lady with a blank expression on her face. She felt like the world around her spinning. She swatted away the hands trying to take off her marital robes.

“H-how did it happen?” She turned to the soldier waiting.

“He was struck down. Just when they sounded the bugle for the truce.”

“What?” She exclaimed. “He did not die in war?”

“Technically, madam, but how does it matter?”

“It matters to me!” She said, “You said he was killed after they ended the war?”

“By seconds, maybe.” The soldier looked deeply uncomfortable. Her father shushed her.

“Do not stop me now, father. I have seen the limit to your affection. We can stop pretending. If he was killed after the war ended, he was not a casualty. He was a citizen murdered in a time of peace. The King must find the murderer and bring him to justice!”

The soldier looked irritated, “Look, I have been respectful of your loss, lady, but these things happen all the time! Life’s not fair, but we must accept our fates graciously. Forget what I said, your husband has left to go to a better place. Protest is futile against the will of the Gods!”

“Maybe it is,” she looked into the soldier’s eyes, “Still, show me the way to the King’s palace.”

“Have you lost your mind?” An old villager screamed, “A widowed woman, alone on the streets? Never!”

“I have no family, sir! My father cut off all ties the moment he gave away my hand to my husband. He who is now dead. I have no children either. Who shall be my sire now anyway?”

“But-” her father started to protest but she cut him off, “Lead the way, boy!” She spoke in a firm voice, “My mind is made up. I shall not rest until I bring justice to my Lord!”

She looked away from the crowd. The horizon strewn with cruel vermillion seemed to mock her as she wiped the vermillion streaks off her own forehead. She shook her head in frustration. They would not understand! She was no longer a naïve newlywed. The rest of her life was to be spent in mourning, shut away in a dark room. Desperate, she clasped at the last straw of purpose in her life, “Take me to the King!” She sobbed.

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