Mary's Path

Mary ran around the block, so she could get to the corner of the wall that was closest to the branch. She was looking for a way to get up. The wall was high and smooth. But someone had put a couple of empty wooden boxes a little further away in an alley.

By dragging them to the wall and setting them on the high edge, Mary got a ladder, albeit unsteady, to climb. She felt the boxes tremble beneath her as she reached up to reach for the edge of the wall. She didn’t quite make it, she gently stood on her tip toes and felt the boxes underneath her vibrate even more from the changing of balance.

Just as she felt her fingers reaching the edge, the boxes underneath her collapsed. There she hung, high on the wall with only her fingers around the edge. She breathed calmly and felt the edge chafing under her fingers. What would she do now? She turned her head and looked down.

It was a long way down and if she jumped, she would end up amongst the boxes and probably hurt herself. But at the same time, she felt that her fingers could no longer maintain their grip.

She saw her parents in front of her. With a groan, she grind her teeth and tried to pull herself up over the edge. Slowly, slowly she came a little further up and finally she was able to put her whole hand up on the top of the wall. She caught her breath a little before trying again.

This time she got hold of the other side of the wall and started kicking her legs and soon she was lying with her stomach over the wall. Her fingers, one arm and both knees were scratched by the wall. But she was up and the joy of it blocked out the pain.

She quickly swung her legs up on the wall and began crawling towards the branch. Then she saw the first riders approaching. She wouldn’t make it. She was sure of it.

With new energy, she began to carefully get out on the branch. It was much higher than she had thought and soon she sat above the middle of the road on the branch and looked down. No one had seen her and now the riders were passing by under her. What would she do? No one would hear if she called.

The carriage was approaching quickly. Mary made the decision without thinking about it. She let herself slide down the branch, so she was just hanging by her arms and when the carriage was underneath her she let go.

The air went out of her when she landed on the roof of the carriage. The thud made people look up and the riders closest to the carriage had heard the sound and stopped. The riders behind had seen that something had landed on the roof and quickly rode forward to investigate what it was. Mary felt hands grab her and try to pull her off the wagon.

There was only one thought in her head; She had to talk to the lady. She was desperately trying to find something to hold on to. But her hands found only the shiny, flat, roof.

“No!” she shouted. “No, I need to talk to her, she has to help me. Please, I need to talk to her.” Her cries were mixed with sobs. Tears of desperation rolled down her cheeks as she tried to fight her way free from the hands that pulled her from the roof and away from the carriage.

“Please, I need to talk to her,” she almost shouted. The people around them looked on in amazement at the little girl who was desperately fighting the grey-clad men. More grey-clad people had formed a circle around the carriage as if expecting further attacks.

As the distance to the carriage increased, Mary felt hope disappear and something inside she gave up. She became lax and let the hands pull her further away from the carriage. She stopped shouting and cried silently.

“Wait, The Lady wants to talk to her.” The voice came from a white-clad woman standing outside the carriage. There was a buzz through the crowd. Mary didn’t understand at first, who did Lady want to talk to. But when the hands that pulled her away stopped and instead began to bring her closer to the carriage, she realized that the Lady wanted to talk to her.

Tears were still streaming down Mary’s face as the most beautiful woman she had seen stepped out of the carriage. She had raven black hair that was set in braids on her head. Her eyes were blue like the summer sky and the skin was white as porcelain. She was head taller than most women and she radiated self-confidence and kindness as she looked at the young girl in front of her. Mary sobbed and then fell to her knees in front of the Lady.

“You wanted to talk to me?” the words came from the woman in front of her. They sounded different, she talked with an almost imperceptible accent. Mary stared into the ground and nodded. Now that she was sitting there in front of the Lady, she couldn’t find the words.

“What did you want from me?” asked The Lady. Mary took a deep breath and tried to make the tears stop falling. She failed but looked up at the woman in front of her. She saw a smile in the woman’s eyes and suddenly the words came.

“My parents, they’re so sick, I don’t know what to do. I heard two women talking about you and they said you could help my parents. Please, please, I beg you. Help my parents, I don’t know what else I can do,” the words came without pause. They poured out of Mary like a stream, just like the tears that flowed on her cheeks.

The people around them drew in a surprised breath, how dared this little girl ask for something like that? Mary didn’t notice the looks she got from the people around her. She just looked at the woman’s face.

“Who do you live with?” the woman asked.

“My parents,” Mary replied.

“But now that your parents are sick, who’s taking care of you?”

“I take care of myself, and my parents,” Mary replied, though she had failed at the latter, she thought. The woman studied the girl.

“What have you done to your hands?” asked The Lady. Mary looked down at her hands in amazement. They had been scraped against the wall, they were bleeding, and here and there, there were sticks from the tree branch.

“I climbed the wall and onto the branch,” Mary said. The lady turned around and looked at the wall and then at the branch that was stretched out across the road.

“It’s high up,” she said. “Where’s your home?” she asked Mary.

“In the artisan quarters, my father is a silversmith,” Mary replied. The lady leaned over to one of the grey-clad men and said something to him.

“Does anyone know this girl?” the man shouted out over the people. At first it was quiet.

“I know her” a voice was heard, and the people backed away and let out the one who spoke come forward. There Stood Mr. Sansi and Mary felt a little safer. “I’m a customer of her father,” he said with a bow.

“So her story is true?” the gray-clad man asked. “As far as I know. I know her parents have been sickness and she’s taken care of them, and the store.” Mr. Sansi added. The lady spoke quietly to the gray-clad man.

“Can you show me the way?” the man asked Mr. Sansi.

“Yes.” Another buzz went through the people. The lady was going to help this girl. Mary didn’t understand what was happening, because one of the other white-clad women put a gray robe over her shoulders and led her toward the carriage.

There she had to sit opposite the Lady while Mr. Sansi climbed onto the driver’s cup and led the way. Mary was in the carriage and couldn’t believe it. She was on her way home to her parents with the Lady. Everything was going to be okay again, they were going to be a happy family.

The grey robe was too big for Mary, but it was warm. She hadn’t put on her own coat when she ran out of the house a couple of hours ago. It was only now that she realized how cold she was. She gently pulled the robe tighter around her.

One of the women in white smiled at her. It was quiet in the carriage, no one said a word. Mary could hear Mr. Sansi occasionally telling the driver when he should make turn. She sensed that the grey-clad riders were still surrounding them, and she wondered what people thought when they came driving here on the smaller streets where you would not expect either beautiful carriages or protective troops of riders.