Words for Wednesday - Mary and Allan revisited - 7

The story of the people from the Wieliczka salt mine continued.

Words:
Wardrobe
Silhouette
Sergeant
Dispensation

Placebo
Displeasure
Sympathy
Discretion

Used here: Discretion.

That evening Tom, and thus Francesco were kitchen slaves. They peeled potatoes, grated carrots, carried water to the tables and did the dishes, twice, and then put everything away together with the other whose turn it was. "You do everything?" Francesco asked.
"Yes," Tom said. "We're compulsively sharing as I said. Nothing should be a secret. I can plot a course. What if I fall ill, or meet an accident. I teach everyone wanting to learn, and also most not wanting to. Mona teaches farming and plant lore, Sarah and Fred are our medicine men, they teach that, assisted by Pete, who was a health freak. And so on. Tomorrow you join classes with me, as today was my - and your - work day."

"Tomorrow we go on to Goslar, and then south," Tom said that evening as they once again sat in the plane. "The inspection of the plane today showed everything OK, but the added weight of the Wieliczkans are stressing the outriggers and the caulking."
"We should all go to the floating village, then," Danuta said.
"Nope," Ben said. "It is also feeling the strain. Maybe even more so than the plane. We have been sailing for much longer than we counted on when we set out. Next time we see a gently sloping mountain, I suggest pulling in there and making some repairs."
"For how long do you reckon the village will hold together?"
"A week at most. With some repairs, at least double that time."
"I was a building man too," the big man from Wieliczka said. "I can help inspecting tomorrow."
"Why did you not say so today?" Ben said.
"Now everybody raise and present yourself. Name, former occupation, hobbies, living family members. All you think could be of relevance for our survival," Allan said. "As Tom here has said several times, we are compulsively sharing."
"They all did as suggested, and several of the Wieliczkans were miners, farmers, stonemasons, dressmakers, or had practical hobbies. They looked to turn into an asset much like Mary hoped.

***

The next morning after chores were done and the plane and village once again deemed seaworthy, Tom and Francesco went off to the most solid hut of the floating village. This was where their education were going on to distribute the load of passengers.
Francesco protested Tom's choice of educational subject, and was put together with father Paul, in a group of mixed origin, discussing mining, smelting, smithing and metals.
"We can't do much practical smithing while sailing, but we can talk," A stocky wielickan said. When we land, we can mine. We can dig for metals."
The discussion turned to fires, scarcity of wood, and shovels and lots of other subjects. Francesco was very quiet, listening, not talking but for an occasional grunt or nod.
In the end Bengt, the Swede, lost patience with him. "You just sit there, grunting. Yesterday you said next to nothing when we told who we were and so on. How much do you know of mining and such? Why don't you speak up?"
"Discretion is not one of your biggest virtues, Bengt," father Paul said with a frown. "But now the cat is out of the bag." He turned to Francesco: "How do you say? Do you want to share, or ...?"
"Padre," Francesco said. "Can I talk to you alone, away from everybody?"
"Of course you can, Francesco. We can use one of the smaller boats." father Paul said. "May we be excused?"

Father Paul and Francesco climbed into the boat, and father Paul asked Francesco to row to what he found a suitable distance.
"I am in an awful situation, father." Francesco said. "I have seen and heard much good here, but I still believe that no matter what I do, people will be wary of me for a long time to come. The people from the mine have surely told everybody who wanted to know about how I helped Strega gain her power and how I was cruel to everybody not heeding her every word. Even in the end, when she showed herself as a selfish fraud, I stood behind her. All the way. I was stupid, naive even, to believe her promises of a golden future and wild orgies and .. everything a healthy person could ever dream of. But that's the exact thing ... you would not understand!" Francesco's voice turned into a whine and he rose, pulling one of the big kitchen knifes from somewhere in his clothes. "You're a sissy, an empty excuse for a man, you play it big ... You pamper to peoples' feelings of unrest and despair. You thrive upon their "sins", their lust and passions!" Francesco's voice sunk to a shrill whisper.
Father Paul bend his head and started praying in a very low voice. He was not afraid of death, but he felt stupid for having let Francesco overcome him so easily. He mumbled the words of Jesus on the cross: "Father, forgive him, for he knows not what he does!" He felt more than saw the knife descending, and simultaneously he heard a strange twanging, singing noise and Francesco collapsed over him. The big knife fell rattling to the bottom of the boat. Father Paul raised his head and looked around. All decks, windows, doors and opening were filled with faces looking at him, big-eyed and white in the sunlight. In the door of the plane Eva stood, bow in hand and a row of arrows planted in front of her.
Father Paul lifted Francesco down from his back and placed him in the boat. The arrow had gone into the small of his back. probably piercing a lung. Francesco's breathing was laboured, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
"I forgive you!" Father Paul said simply, tracing the sign of the cross over the dying man. Francesco raised his head, tried to focus, and slowly his hand crept to his forehead, then down, then from shoulder to shoulder, and fell limply to the side. Father Paul hid his face in his hands, crying or praying, or both.
After a short while, he grasped the oars and rowed back to the floating village.

"You never told that you hunted with bow and arrow," Father Paul said to Eva as she too reached the floating village.
"No it was not relevant," Eva answered, still shaking with the reaction. "Until yesterday we had no weapon of any kind, and for that matter no game to hunt for. I hope we never will have either!" she said miserably and sat down, hiding her face with one hand.
"Thank you for saving my life," father Paul said. "It might not be the best possible thing to say," he said shaking his head, "but I need to say it."
"And I need to hear it," Eva said in a very subdued voice. "I was so afraid, afraid of hurting you, afraid of missing, afraid of killing him, afraid I was doing the wrong thing, but also afraid of not doing anything," she said and began crying in earnest.
Robert ran to her and put an arm around her shaking shoulders: "You did the right thing, Eva, He was a bad egg, and he was about to kill father Paul," Robert said his voice breaking as well. "We need him, we need you."
"We might even have needed Francesco too," Mary said. "But you did what had to be done, and you were the only one able to do it." Mary pulled a big knife from her skirt. "I was about to swim out there with this one," she said, sounding disgusted with her inadequacy.
"And I went looking for that infamous bat of mine," Robert admitted. "Where did you hide it, Padre?" he said, looking at Father Paul.
The big man from the mine, who was still wearing Allan's shirt, placed two largish knives on the table: "I was about to throw these at him. I worked in a circus as a knife-thrower once."
Father Paul shook his head. "I thought we were a peaceful and reasonable crew here," he said. Once again his mental balance had been restored, "But we seem a rather bloodthirsty bunch."
"When our priest is in danger ..." Tom said and extended the bat towards Robert. "Here it is," he said with a bow.
"Let's put all these tools of death back where they belong, and then give Francesco a decent burial," Father Paul said.

Here ends this part of the story. The adventure in Goslar is awaiting suitable words.