Chapter Three
The mistakes I make include spades, toilet paper and leaving luggage unattended.

Morning greeted us in a rather chilly fashion. I could see that Millie had had a bad night. There were dark circles underneath her eyes, and she was a tad pale.
‘We’ll be in Claywold by noon,’ I told her, holding out the rucksack to her. ‘Your turn to carry this.’
‘I think I should tell you this,’ Millie said, as we had started walking again. ‘Before we left, your grandmother told me to pass on a message to you just before nightfall, but I forgot.’
‘What?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘I thought it was strange. Do you want to hear it now?’
‘I suppose,’ I answered, feeling cautious.
Millie cleared her throat. ‘She said to quote it like this: “I know what you are about to do, don’t you think that I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking”…that’s an odd line, isn’t it?’ she added, looking at me.
I shrugged, while in the meantime annoyance washed over me like a river over the pebbles on the bottom.
‘Do you think that was another of her prophecies?’
‘Don’t kid yourself,’ I grumbled. ‘That was no providence - that was just the behaviour of a very nosy old woman. Did she say anything else?’
‘One more thing: “Stumbling is fine, as long as you hit rocks.”’
‘As long as you don’t hit rocks,’ I corrected her, rubbing a hand over my sleepy face. ‘That’s the correct saying.’
‘No, she said hit rocks.’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘I’m going to avoid hitting rocks if I can. You too, I hope, unless you fancy a nosebleed or worse.’
‘Oh, I guess not,’ Millie sighed, heaving the rucksack higher on her shoulders.

An hour passed in silence. I glanced over at Millie’s face a couple of times, wondering if I perhaps had been rude to her without knowing. She seemed only very tired, however. I wondered if she had slept at all.
‘Daffodil?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I really have to use the bathroom.’
‘Oh,’ I said, halting in my tracks. ‘That’s alright. I’ll wait.’
‘Er,’ she stammered, turning red. ‘I mean, I don’t know…’
‘It’s quite alright,’ I said, encouraging. ‘There’s a thicket just over there and besides, we’re alone out here.’
‘No,’ she said, shifting her eyes, ‘you don’t understand. I have to...you know - do the big thing.’
‘Oh.’ I was momentarily taken aback. ‘Er - can’t you hold it up until we reach Claywold?’
  ‘How long is that?’
  ‘A couple of hours…I think.’ I instantly knew from her face that the answer was no. ‘…You know what? We should dig a hole.’

So we did. Millie’s blush never left her face as we scraped away fallen leafs and soil in the undergrowth. I tried to act as if all was normal, like I dug holes for sanitary uses everyday, especially for people I hardly knew. Secretly, I made the mental note to bring a spade next time I was going out for travels.
‘No one ever mentions this in books!’ Millie huffed.
‘No. They don’t. I get the sneaky suspicion that happens for a reason.’ I turned my back on her. ‘Well, my queen. It’s all yours.’

I wandered off a bit, willing to her and myself some space. Climbing a steep slope, I spotted the car track that would lead to Claywold. Good, I thought. At least we would not be sleeping out in the open tonight. The message Gran had left Millie had caught me by surprise, and I didn’t know what to do. So what, part of me said, she knew that you wanted to turn your back on Millie - what can she possibly do about it? Another part in me warned me that Gran could do a lot if she wanted to. Burn my bed, for instance. Yeah, that was just a thing for her, stubborn old witch that she was.
‘Daffodil?’
Without turning around, I asked: ‘What?’
‘Er- I don’t suppose you’ve got any toilet paper with you?’
‘No,’ I replied, after a little shocked pause. My voice sounded awkward. ‘I suppose you can’t do without?’
‘I suppose I’ll have to.’ Her voice sounded just as thin and discomforted.
‘Good.’
In my mental note, the spade got company from at least five toilet paper rolls.


It was a relief to me that walking down the last parts of the road to Claywold went without troubles. I had been in this village often, as it was the largest rural community close to Low-of-the-Road. We went here to import all supplies that we could not produce ourselves. Sometimes we bought new cattle, other times we sold ours. I knew that, if I ever wished to marry, I would probably have to import a groom from here as well.
One of the things that I had learned very early in my visits to Claywold was that a larger village also meant more dirt. In contrast to my home, Claywold had several roads, most of them paved with stones. Carts pulled by donkeys rattled to and fro the modest village centre, were most of the goods were traded or sold. Compared to larger towns or even cities, Claywold was as insignificant as an acorn next to a full-grown oak, but at least it was on the map. Or, you know, I assumed it was, never having been able to read it properly.
‘This way,’ I said, leading Millie through what was generally called Main Road: a paved path, broad enough for a cart to ride through effortlessly - that is, as long as no other cart came in from the opposite direction. ‘You’ll be wanting to buy things, though I suggest you keep it modest. But do get an oiled cloak, or you’ll be having pneumonia before princess Merope can even point a finger at you.’
I handed her some of the money Gran had given me, though I made sure that most of our budget was still safely in my own management.
‘What will you be doing?’ she asked, pocketing the coins.
I nodded at a rather shabby looking pub on our right. The bricks must once have been painted red, but now this paint was peeling off the walls, and fading. The sign read: The Common Barrel Bar. ‘I’ll be booking our stay for the night. Here, give the bag to me, you don’t have to carry that around town.’
Millie glanced at the building, a doubtful expression on her face. ‘Are you sure it’s alright to go in there?’
‘What do you mean? Of course it’s alright.’
I took over the rucksack rather forcefully and smiled. The truth was, I had never before stayed the night at an inn. Whenever we from Low-of-the-Road made our way to Claywold, we’d all make sure we’d got up nice and early, so we would be back just after dark. ‘Now, don’t be long,’ I told her, before I entered the pub.

The floor was greasy, and by the look of it, so where the tables. Not accustomed to much luxury, I ignored it and went straight over to the bar. The pub owner was a small, round man with a balding head and friendly face. I asked him if he had a room with two beds, which he confirmed and didn’t ask too much money for. After paying, he handed me the key and told me that I could go right up, if I didn’t mind that the cleaner would come in later to change the bed sheets.
I dumped the bag on one of the beds. It was not heavy, but since Millie’s sword was attached to it, it was a bit of a pain walking with it. Luckily the blade was so blustered. You couldn’t cut a loaf of bread with it, let alone seriously harm someone. Studying it from close by, I wondered what had possessed Millie to pull it out in the first place. I could see that the hilt had once been nicely decorated. It seemed like a jewel had been encrusted in the pommel, but it was empty now. Only the cross-guard remained set with small stones, though they were dull and brittle.  I tried polishing them with the hem of my sleeve, but couldn’t notice any spectacular difference. The dirt might have gathered on the thing for decades, maybe even centuries.
I left the sword alone to look about the room. It was a small one, a bit droughty. I made sure the window was closed well, not wanting any rain to sweep in.  Then I went downstairs, leaving the door unlocked, assuming that the cleaner would soon come to make our beds.

I waited for Millie in the taproom, already having ordered something to eat. Our breakfast had not exactly been splendid and I was hungry.
As promised, she ventured into the pub not too long after and, sitting down next to me, showed me the cloak she had managed to buy. It looked somewhat worn and frayed - obviously it was a second-hand- but I approved. ‘It won’t keep you dry forever though,’ I said. ‘It would’ve been better to wait for this trip until spring.’
‘Do you think we should turn back and wait?’ Millie asked unsure.
‘No,’ I said, feeling a string of guilt but trying to sound neutral, ‘I think you should go on as good as possible.’
A barmaid drifted our way, asking what Millie would like.
After she had ordered, I inquired: ‘Does this place have a network-ban?’
‘No miss. You can freely tap in with version seven or higher.’
‘Ah,’ I said, my face falling. ‘Thank you.’
It was not after I had finished my plate that I noticed Millie’s goggling look. ‘Excuse me? Do I have something on my face?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I -’
‘In that case you’re being very impolite,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry. But what were you talking about, just now?’
‘What? Oh, you must have guessed. Look, I know that it’s retarded to be below version seven, but it just never seemed worth the money to buy any updates.’
She still stared at me with a sort of blank look. I shrugged. ‘It’s unbelievable how much money some people spent on it. Me ‘n Gran just aren’t that rich okay? Our sorts of people are very rudimentary in their things. That’s just our life.’
‘No, no,’ Millie said, fluttering her hands. ‘I didn’t mean to insult you - it’s just that I don’t understand what you are talking about. What is version seven?’
Now it was my turn to give her a puzzled sort of look. ‘Err - the network. I was asking about tapping into it, remember?’ It took me another moment to realize what her confusion meant. ‘You don’t know what it is?’
She shook her head.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I assumed…well. Err - imagine that the whole world is being enveloped by a great...err...great invisible thing, that connects everything - well, not everything, but a lot and it depends on your version how much you can reach, so…And you can tap into that from almost everywhere, but it’s like a big pile full of knowledge, so one needs guide strings to actually find ones direction in the network. That’s like adding instructions to your query.’
I fell silent, feeling that this incomprehensible clarification could not in the least have cleared things up for Millie.
She looked as though she had just seen a daisy gobbling up a sparrow.
‘It’s like magic,’ she finally said. It was more like a question.
‘I suppose,’ I mumbled. ‘Though not the kind of magic the Fairy Folk is supposed to have.’
‘No, I get it.’ She looked very excited for some reason. ‘So, how does it work, this tapping?’
‘Don’t know, really. It’s kind of like willing the network to reach into you, and preparing your guide string, otherwise you’ll lose your sanity.’
‘Really?’
‘I think so, at least. There have been very severe cases, maybe even deaths. People’s brains suffocating in the amount of information.’ Millie looked shocked, so I decided it was time to change subject. ‘I checked the food supplies. There’s enough to last on for about four days, in which time you’ll...I mean, we can get to the next town.’

After eating, we went upstairs so that Millie could pack away her new purchases. I noticed how I was feeling guilty still, and I said: ‘You might need a new bag for all that.’
‘No,’ she said brightly, unaware of my plans, ‘It’ll be fine.’
The beds were freshly made, I noticed. I retrieved the key from my pocket and put in on the nightstand of Millie’s bed. It wasn’t very nice of me to leave her without telling, I knew. Then again, my opinion on this journey had never been asked anyway.
‘Say, did you move the sword?’ Millie asked suddenly.
I turned about. ‘Of course not.’
‘I thought you had attached it to the rucksack, though.’
‘I did. It’s there.’ My gaze wandered over the rucksack and the bed sheets. ‘Only it’s not. Damn it!’ I cursed.
‘Did someone steal it?’ Millie looked quite disturbed.
‘I left the door unlocked because the pub owner told me that the room would be cleaned before we got in.’ I sighed. ‘The cleaner must’ve taken it. The money’s all here,’ I added, after quickly checking. When I saw the panicked look on Millie’s face, I hastened to add: ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go and ask. Maybe it’s just a mistake.’

With Millie in my rear I went back downstairs. I told the pub owner that we seemed to be missing one of our personal belongings. He called the cleaner. She was a plumb sort of woman, middle-aged, with a greasy apron over her dull-green dress.
‘Sword?’ she repeated, after being asked. ‘I’ve seen no sword, madam. Just a bag. I put in on the ground to change sheets and then put it back on the bed.’
‘I have had no other complaints of theft before, miss,’ added the pub owner.
I sighed. ‘And are you sure no one entered the room while we were out?’
‘Well, if you left it unlocked, anyone could have slipped in,’ answered the balding man a little less friendly.
‘So it could be one of the guests?’ Millie asked.
The man nodded. ‘Or even someone pretending to be a guest when he noticed what you were carrying. I’m sorry miss, I don’t keep track of anyone that walks in and out of this building.’
‘I see,’ said I. ‘Well, thanks anyways.’
We went back upstairs, where Millie crashed on one of the beds, looking upset. I quickly checked the money bag a second time, but all seemed in order. Whoever the thief had been, he or she had shown no interest in anything but the sword. Somehow this struck me as extremely odd, but I told myself that it was not my problem.
I tossed the money bag to Millie. ‘You better keep this on you.’
‘Don’t you want to carry that?’
‘No,’ I said, eyes avoiding hers. ‘It’s alright. Err - I’m sorry about your sword. But it was just a piece of rusting steel, when you look at it.’
‘It was much more than that,’ Millie said, rolling to her side. ‘It was magical.’
‘I’m not so sure there was anything magical about it,’ I said, in an attempt to be reasonable. ‘I know you believed it was once of the Fairy Folk, but - ’
‘I meant a different kind of magic,’ she said. ‘Not the sparkly sort.’
‘Oh.’ I had run out of useful things to say. ‘Listen. Why don’t you lay down for a couple of hours. I mean, you look tired. I’ll be downstairs or out in the village or something.’
‘Yeah,’ Millie said. She had already closed her eyes. ‘Thanks, Daffodil.’
‘Yeah, no problem.’ I left her to herself and closed the door as quietly as possible. I would’ve said goodbye, but I’m sure it would have sounded odd given the circumstances.
I thought I wasn’t going to make it back home before tonight unless I really hurried. That meant walking in a rush with no food or water. Besides, I had left all my stuff with Millie, even the blankets. Wandering into the village centre, I hoped that some cart could give me a ride.

I was lucky. I ran into a man I vaguely knew because he had once sold some diary products to Gran when we were short on our own. I told him that I was on my way back to Low-of-the-Road and he said he could take me halfway. So I hopped on, forcing myself not to look back. Millie had managed by herself before she had walked down to Grans house after all, and it was her own choice that she wanted to do this. I had even told her that I had no intentions of going to Redwood with her. No, all was perfectly legal, I had every right of doing what I was doing. So I told myself.
‘So what were you doing in Claywold?’ my driver asked, as he lazily held the reigns of his horse in one hand.
‘Sold some of our flock for my grandmother,’ I lied. ‘She’s getting to old for the trip and the other villagers couldn’t lend us their carts today. I didn’t object to a bit of a walk.’
‘Still, a ride back home is never bad, ey,’ he grinned.
‘So it is,’ I nodded.
‘So, did you get a good price?’
‘What? Oh, yes. A fair price.’
And so we talked, about this and that, all insignificant conversation, so that my mind could freely wander off. I started to wonder if Millie had woken up yet, and if she would be angry or sad when she’d discover I had left. After a while, my driver - I had learned his name was Baxty - had to go a different way, so I thanked him and slid off the cart, thanking him. The last parts to home were easily crossed, but it was already dark when I walked up to our house. I could see a single light coming from the living room. I knew must be burning a candle. She never lit the fire when she was alone; said it cost her too much effort to keep it burning. Apparently the cold never bothered her. I took a deep breath and went in.

‘Gran?’ I felt awkward standing there, in the door leading to our living room.
She had her back on me, but even like this I could sense her disapproval. ‘So you came back.’
‘Yes,’ I said, and then, feeling that is was somehow appropriate, I added: ‘Sorry.’ 
‘Did you tell Millie you were sorry?’
‘No.’ I paused. ‘She was sleeping.’
‘Indeed?’ Now she turned. I couldn’t help but think that her face looked eerie by the sparse and flickering light of the candle. Dark shadows where cast over the other half of her features. ‘How very brave of you.’
‘Look,’ said I, stepping into the room and shutting the door. ‘I never asked for this. I never said I would go with her. Heck, I never even suggested taking her in as our guest! It’s about time that someone considered my viewpoints in this cooked up plan!’
‘I warned you though, didn’t I? That I did not want you to sneak out on her? Didn’t Millie give you the message?’
‘Yes, she did. And it’s just something you’d do. But honestly Gran! Who’s gonna take care of the house and our sheep if I’m gone? I don’t see you cleaning out the shed everyday, or tending to the orchard, or repairing the fences before winter, or…’
‘You don’t think that the other would leave me unaided, did you?’ Her expression softened somewhat. ‘You’re very sweet, Daffodil, but you know you belong out there, with Millie, on her quest.’
‘I know nothing of the sort,’ I said, haughtily. ‘Besides, she’ll be fine. She’s old enough to take care of herself, Gran. I’ve had a long day, excuse me. I think I’m going to bed.’
‘Ah,’ Gran said, and I knew something was wrong.
‘What do you mean, ah?’
‘Well, concerning your bed…I thought it was wise to take certain measures in case you’d, err, snubbed my warning.’
I felt everything turn cold. ‘What did you do?’ I whispered.
‘I burned it, I’m afraid.’
For a moment, I stood frozen. Then: ‘I knew it!’ I shouted. ‘I knew you would do something like that! You didn’t even know if I was going to come back or not, and yet you just went ahead and...and…!’
‘Well, turns out I actually did know, didn’t I,’ replied my grandmother dryly.
‘You…you evil hag!’ I had never insulted Gran before, but the loss of my warm, fuzzy bed just seemed to much. ‘Do you really want to see me dead so badly?’
Now it was Grans turn to look shocked. ‘Of course not! But don’t be silly dear, a little travelling has never killed anyone.’
‘But meeting Merope has,’ I snapped. ‘But I get it. I’m not welcome here and since the entire village clings to you like a sickening bunch of puppies, they’ll just turn me down as well. Fine. I’ll go. But not tonight. You can burn my bed all you want, I’ll sleep in the shed and don’t you dare disturb me. Goodnight.’
With that, I left the house, banging the door shut as hard as I could manage in my anger.