The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 90:

The Skill of Laundry

It was not an easy task to lead the vagrants and Copekivis a mile through unused logging trail, then set up camp in a small clearing – but that was what Korho was built for, his booming voice able to pierce the smothering quiet of the forest.

“You three, get over there under that lopsided pine – I don’t care! No! You get your asses over there and stop stepping on her toes,” he shouted, physically blocking several vagrants – those without children – forcing them to move to the outer edge of the camp. He spotted a young man trying to set up camp in the best spot. Korho jumped forward, snatching him up by the collar and dragged him to the edge of the camp, saying, “You think my lovely voice is only for singing? You mind my words, or it’ll take a tailor to sew your hide back together.” Then he shouted over his shoulder, “And don’t think I don’t see you, Pinno – you piss in that river and I’ll rip your cock clean off.”

With force, with noise, he prevented the stronger vagrants from dominating the others, or taking more than could be divvied up. He applied this same philosophy to his own family – his cousins, children, and in-laws. No one was spared from his strict eye for fairness – he set his own spot on the edge of the clearing, in an overgrown place that’d need work before he could raise a tent. This allowed those with small children to reside safely in the center of the camp.

Moth marveled at him. She simply never could’ve done it.

At long last, tents were organized, and people were allowed – under aggressive supervision – to draw water from the tributary. Campfires were set up and cauldrons set to boil for laundry.

Having the full day ahead of her with no burials, Moth went to the biggest family – a couple with eight kids under ten – and offered her help. The parents looked terrified.

“I don’t have many skills,” Moth said, rolling up her sleeves and grabbing up a posser, “but I do know how to wash laundry.”

Several parents gathered around Moth in amazement as she showed her methods for getting out stains, how quickly the dirt and grease melted out of the clothes under her deft hands – methods taught to her by Tully, who had learned it from Aunt Rena.

The whole clearing was steaming with boiling pots of clothes, the water tar-like from the months of filth. Once the boiling had done its work, the clothes were brought to the river and scrubbed on the rocks – a perfect time to chat while you worked.

Moth knelt by the river, talking with the parents of the many kids, helping to scrub dozens of socks and coats.

“Now this is beautiful!” exclaimed Moth to the mother, holding up a small jacket for a four-year-old. It was old but carefully mended and embroidered with magpies.

“Thank you, Milady – it was mine when I was a child,” the woman said proudly. “Now it’s my sons’, though it’s a mite big for him at the moment.”

Moth was gentle as she got food stains out of the cuffs. “You’ve kept it in perfect condition.”

Sighing, the woman nodded. “It was the one thing I couldn’t part with. My husband said it wasn’t worth dragging around with us, but it makes me hopeful when I look on it.”

Moth peered down at the resplendent jacket. Her finger traced the immaculate embroidery work. “Can I ask how your family…started wandering?”

“Well, same as most folks here, I suppose,” the woman answered, resigned yet setting her face defiantly, determined not to be ashamed of her misfortunes. “The fog was bad enough, but the fog restrictions were too severe – took up our whole space, made all the acres unsuited to farm. We had to sell, but what neighbor will buy a farm you can’t farm on? So, the Agricultural Council bought it for clippings. But…my husband and I – we just couldn’t stand leaving Hiren, no matter how hopeless it got. We do what we can, taking on little jobs, but we stick to the woods. Some folks are kinder than others – but we’re safer when we travel with you.”

This last statement sent a shiver down Moth’s spine. She couldn’t fathom that people could be so cruel – that Hireners would turn on their neighbors at their lowest moment.

She met the woman’s eyes. “Then stay close to us. We’ll keep you safe.”

Moth’s solemn tone made the woman suddenly nervous. She looked from the magpies on the little jacket, to Moth – and then hastily gathered up her laundry to hang it up.

Lines were strung up from tree to tree, and soon the air was filled with brightly colored, dripping clothes.

Moth, not wanting to look too much like she was favoring one family over another, went to help a gaggle of parents wash laundry, chatting with them about their children, or the weather, or the hopes it’d be a good harvest this year – as if they weren’t destitute. As if they were neighbors.

As Moth finished washing an apron, and handed it to its owner to hang up, Heikka appeared at her elbow.

Moth jumped. Heikka was as noiseless as a cat. “Yes?” she gasped.

Heikka, taking her arm, nodded towards the tent, and Moth followed her in, worried.

Inside, Korho was sitting at the meeting table, drumming his small flat fingers restlessly. “Ah, Lady,” he said, using his foot to kick out a chair for her. “Sit down.”

“What’s the matter?” Moth demanded.

“Just got this news from a woodcutter. Maxa and his brother Rupert got in a fight. Apparently, Rupert was furious that Maxa delayed the burials.”

Moth felt her stomach clench. “And?”

“Rupert swung at Maxa but slipped off the millhouse bridge – he broke his hip. He’ll live, but god, the pain is wretched, he won’t be able to get out of bed for months.”

“Then…” Moth struggled to process this news. “Then who will be the leader?”

“Rupert appointed Rodin Tunhofe to take his place.” Korho folded his hand, smiling, as if it were good news – he looked confused when Moth’s sunk back in her chair, dazed. “Well, this is good, eh, a familiar face. Or are you not on good terms with your brother-in-law?”

“Will my sister…will Priscilla come with him?”

Korho shrugged, saying, “I don’t know.”

Moth’s hands shot up to her head – she had a strong urge to remove her jewelry, but with effort she restrained herself. “When will they arrive?”

“It’s short notice, but I’m hoping the day after tomorrow, when we bury.”

Moth was a mix of excitement and unease, suddenly feeling conscious of the clothes she wore – as if it were the first time she tried them on.