Kevin Wade Johnson
2024
Alisia and Amalia sat down on the couch near Bjarni's chair, while I pulled up a straight-backed chair in front of him, and Melevaunt stood against the wall near the doorways. "Bjarni," I said, not too softly, since his hearing was impaired, and then again, louder. Then I reached and touched his shoulder gently. "Eh, vhat be that?" he said, startled. The landlady walked over long enough to almost shout, "Bjarni, visitors ye have!" Then she left, going through the doorway into the rest of the house. "Oh," he said, "oh! Who ye be then?" He peered at me. Age hadn't helped his sight any more than his hearing. "I'm Steward Roland, and these are Clerk Amalia and Guard Alisia. We're here to ask you about Illtud, your friend. Can you tell us anything about him?" "Illtud? A good fellow. Good listener. Good to talk to. I miss him. Do you know vhere he vent?" "We're trying to find out," I said. "Go down to the river. Ask around, maybe. He vent down there all the time." "Anywhere in particular?" "The Bight. Loved to vatch the vater there. You know vhere that be?" Melevaunt volunteered, "I know." "Good. Good. Ye go there then. Ask." Then he leaned forward, peering with his aged eyes at Amalia. "Amalina? That—be that you?" "Amalia," she corrected. But maybe not loud enough. "Amalina," he said. "Amalina. I be sorry. I should have told you so right then." "I'm Amalia, not—" "I didn't know he'd go off to var, I didn't. I didn't vant him to go. Not our only son. Please, Amalina. Please say you forgive me. Please." His old eyes were brimming. "I forgive you," said Amalia, bless her soul. "Thank you," he whispered. He started sobbing then, but not for long. The old, old man tired out, and fell into exhausted sleep.
Read this work at the World Public Library (library card needed).