The Keepers

(you might like The Model better)

Chapter 1

The Village

A Keeper would come to our farm once a day, usually accompanied by a young boy who would carry for him the food that we offered. The boy would usually be inattentive and bored. It was not much of a job after all - wandering around the village with the blue robed Keeper, lugging his bread and fruit and vegetables. But Keepers were worthy of respect and the head man would always ensure that there were boys to accompany them. The Keepers that came to our village were very junior in the scheme of things but they were after all, Keepers.

My mother had, since I could remember, wanted me to become a "worm" as apprentice Keepers were called. Funny that men who were so solemn and revered should start their adult lives with such a lowly name. I'd asked my father once why they were called worms but he had shaken his head and lilted "only the Keepers know the answers" as if that was all i would ever need to know about that subject. I knew why they wore blue robes - that was easy enough - the mountain retreats where most Keeps were located were home to the Indigo plant which when shredded, soaked, fermented and mixed with lye produced the blue dye.

Four days before the end of the rains I came home from the fields where I had been working all day with my father to find that three Keepers were standing in front of our house talking with my mother and grandmother. Focusing on them i was inattentive to my feet and accidentally kicked a small rock which careened off the gate-post with a whack and landed at the foot of a tall and elderly Keeper. He bent down and retrieved the stone and examined it for a moment while the others gazed in my direction. The look on my mother's face was something i had not experienced. I felt a little nervous.

"Hello Pit. Thank you for the gift."

He smiled and held out his hand to show the rock in his palm.

"Do you know what this rock is called?"

I wondered for a moment what he might mean - after all it was called "rock" or stone", not a pebble i could see that.

"No sir, i do not know" I answered.

He looked at me for a moment then said "it is called basalt and it has come from within the earth. Once it was not a rock but was like hot mud flowing on the ground".

One of the other Keepers was younger and as I looked his way he smiled as if to say "I know this too".

"Sir, may I ask a question?" I ventured. He raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Sir, if we know that this rock has a special name and was once like flowing mud, what might we do with that knowledge?"

The old Keeper smiled and returned "ah young man, the question is not what we might do with that knowledge but what might we do if we knew the name and nature of all things and how each relates to each".

He looked at me as if expecting something more.

"Sir, to that question, ‘only the Keepers know the answers’".

That seemed to satisfy him and he turned back to talk with my mother.

"He is ready now Mea, he should come after the rains. I will send someone to fetch him."

He turned to leave, the other two Keepers following. At that point my father came into sight walking along the dirt road towards the gate. He stopped and greeted the elder Keeper by name.

"Jordus, welcome. What brings you to our village?"

"Hello Brom, as I have just been discussing with Mea, the boy is ready. He should come to the Keep and begin his training as soon as the rains have ended for the year."

My father did not seem surprised at all at this by which I gathered that everyone had known about this arrangement - everyone that is except me. I held my tongue. I knew that a boy does not speak with a senior Keeper unless invited. The Keepers moved off, moving unhurriedly the way Keepers always do. Taking their time, talking about the rocks I guessed.

As soon as they were far enough away not to hear me I begged "mother, I do not want to go to the Keep. I want to stay here with you and father and help with the planting." I had other things on my mind that I would prefer to do than spend the next two years in a Keep as a worm.

"Pit, it is better for you than working here. Later, if you find the Keep can not keep you after your time then you can return and help to run the farm. We can manage without you for a while."

I knew how generous of heart she was being. Managing a farm, even a small one like ours, took a lot of work. Everyone worked. There was no time for play or for day dreaming. Even if everyone worked hard it still did not mean that things would be easy. So many things could go wrong. Disease could wipe out whole crops right across the village and beyond. The rains could come at the wrong time and either wash away days of work or leave young plants withering in the fields. Marauders could come through and take most of what had been saved. Life was hard and everyone had to pitch in if everyone was going to get by. Going to the Keep was not going to be a holiday either. The main task of a worm was to do all the menial tasks around the Keep - washing, cooking, gardening and preparing the indigo dye. On top of that a worm had to study. Long verses of lore had to be memorized with perfection. There were verses of planting and harvesting for each of the different crops that were the mainstay of the local diet. There were verses for law and behavior. There were verses for marriage and the raising of children. All of these had to be learned and learned well if a boy was to leave the Keep no longer as a worm but as man worthy of being accepted as a full citizen. And it was only as a full citizen that a man had the right to speak in the council and had the right to vote.

"Ah well, two years is not so bad. OK mum. I'll be ready to go."

I spent the last of my days on the farm trying to complete all those tasks I had put aside when I had thought I had more time. There were tools to be fixed or sharpened, trees to be pruned, fences to be repaired. I could not complete them all but at least I could make things a little easier for my father. There was one other task I had to face that was not going to be easy. I had to somehow say goodbye to my little sisters. Gim and Gem were twins, six years my junior and as full of energy as any six year olds. Every night for years I had talked them to sleep with the stories I made up for them. It had started one night when they were too excited and frightened to sleep after marauders had come through the village and set one of the neighbor’s sheds on fire as a distraction while they made off with pigs from another farm. Father had gone with the village men to help with the fire and when the pilfering had been discovered there was much shouting and crying. Pigs were valuable. To lose all your pigs was a disaster that could take years to recover from. So, there were the girls as crazy as a couple of loons and Mea wanting to go off and console the neighbors with promises of help and support.

"Pit - get the girls to sleep. I don't care how you do it but if they don't sleep they'll be up all night."

I had watched my mother and grandmother go off with a bag of squealing piglets. The girls were in bed but wide awake - their eyes like saucers as they sat there clutching each other. I had had no idea what to do until Gim had begged "tell us a story Pit" to which Gem had joined with "a story about the marauders". I had thought on that for a bit but decided that that might just be like adding alcohol to a fire so instead I had made up a story about candles. The story was simple enough - there were a lot of candles of different colors all happily glowing until a darkness had come and sewed discord and unhappiness amongst them till one by one they had started to go out. Then a brave candle had blazed away the darkness and rekindled all the candles. The girls had loved it. As soon as I had finished they wanted me to tell it again, and so I had, embellishing the story until it had become an epic. I'd not finished it though - the girls had lasted 'til the second round of “darkness” and then fallen asleep. Mea had been pleased with me when she got home long after midnight. It’s funny how a small success can breed a whole new beginning. From then on I had made up new stories for the twins every night. Each day, while I was working, I would ponder on what the night’s story might be and each night I'd receive the reward of little girls asleep with smiles on their faces. After a while the whole family had taken to sitting and listening to the stories and some days in the fields my father would ask me "what will you tell tonight?" I had loved it. Telling my sisters that there would be no more stories for a while was not going to be easy.

The day the rains stopped I was packed - some spare clothes and a few treasures I'd not want to leave behind. The Keepers came early - too early. The family gathered around me and there were some tears. My mother hugged me hard and the girls clung to me. My grandmother, as was her way, stood silently watching and showed little sign of emotion. My father held out a small bundle wrapped in linen.

"Pit, here are my wormings from my time at the Keep. They were my father's before me and his before him. I hope they serve you well though I suspect that you will surpass your ancestors."

With much waving and cries of "luck and work" they let me go. The two young Keepers who had come to fetch me made off slowly at first knowing that such partings were not easy but their pace increased as they drew further away.

Click here for Chapter 2