Elsa Crane's Arc

Chapter 51 of 66

By morning, the rumor had a name attached to it. Clara brought it into the hut with a stamp of snow off her boots. A family at the far end of the lane, three children and a bedridden father, had not opened their door to the food carts. The mother stood in her yard yesterday and told anyone passing that the frost came down the night Bodhi's crown was set aside. She said the seat was half-made and the sky knew it. She said no mother should kneel to a boy who could not even finish being crowned before the cold came for their turnips. "If she says it at the well tomorrow, three more will nod," Clara said. "By the ceremony, six. That's enough to empty the library floor." Bodhi was already at the table with his chalk. He put it down. "Then I go to her today. Not with the crown. With food." Elsa reached for her shawl and stopped. He was not asking. "Larissa comes with me," Bodhi said. "They trust her. If she carries the basket, they'll open the door. If I carry it, they'll shout through the wood." Clara went for Larissa. She came within the hour, tall under the low beam, her curls pulled back for work. She looked at the boy first, not at Elsa. That was new. "You want me to walk you to a house that blames you," Larissa said. "I want them fed before I'm crowned," Bodhi said. "If they still hate me after, that's fair." Larissa's mouth tugged. She lifted the woven basket Charlie had left by the door. Fresh bread sat on top, still warm. A cup of soup was wedged in the middle, steam curling. Strawberries and blackberries were tucked along the rim. She checked the cloth underneath, then nodded. "I'll knock," she said. "You stand back until she sees me." Elsa followed as far as the crystal-lit steps of the library, where the mothers would gather in two days. She watched them go past it into the lane. The boy walked a pace behind Larissa, hands empty, letting the basket be the message. They were gone an hour. When they came back, Larissa carried the basket empty. Bodhi carried a folded scrap of wool the mother had pressed on him for the ride home. "She cried at the soup," Larissa said quietly to Elsa. "Then she cried at him. She said she'd been wrong to shout it in the yard. She'll come to the crowning. She'll bring the two who nodded with her." Bodhi set the wool on the table. "Three days," he said. "Then the library. No hungry mother in the room." Elsa closed the door behind them. The rumor was dead in the lane. Two days of the seven were left.