Free A Vision of Light by Judith Merkle Riley

needs—”
    “Like us,” broke in one of the sisters. “If a man’s promised marriage, it shows honest intentions. Like with us. Let’s pretend again it’s our wedding night, dearest Richard.”
    “Then me,” spoke up the other, and made a face in my direction.
    “She just doesn’t understand men,” said Richard consolingly to the sisters, and he coolly resumed his work. I turned on my heel, too angry and humiliated to think of anything cutting enough to say.
    “Come away, come away this minute,” said Mary, pulling at my sleeve.
    “Anyway, you can’t marry both at once,” I turned and shouted back to him in a fury. Why are we always too late with a clever reply?
    “Of course he can’t. Of course he can’t, Margaret, dear. And if he marries a hundred cottars’ daughters, he’ll get not a penny between them all. If he’s so vain he’d risk a dowry as good as yours for a bit of pleasure, then you don’t want him at all.”
    “But I do want him—or I did want him. I just feel so terrible.”
    “Don’t let anyone see it, dear. I don’t let anyone see it. And the baby will show soon, and he’s going away to be killed, and I won’t even be a widow!” And she soon passed from weeping to howling on my shoulder. And I howled on hers. When we were done, we put plenty of cold water on our eyes until our faces looked less swollen.
    That night we ate and drank like gluttons. For although I must sit next to Robin Hood at the head of the table, just as she sat next to Will, there is no better way of ignoring things like that than eating and drinking yourself sick.
    “Here’s to Maid Marian, the greatest beauty and the greediest face ever seen!” toasted the village rowdies, and I raised the cup again to the swarm of faces that seemed to multiply and swirl around the table. Already the weaker souls had passed out, but those with greater powers stayed and caroused until nightfall. I would, I would, outdrink Richard Dale! He sat beside me, too proud to even get up to piss, though I figured he couldn’t hold out much longer.
    “Pour me more, brave Friar,” I cried, “for I can outdrink any man here!” A cheer went up for wicked, wild Maid Marian. Never tell me a woman can’t hold it! I tipped the cup and drank half.
    “The last is for you, bold Robin Hood,” I cried, and extended the cup to Richard Dale.
    “That girl is her father’s daughter, that’s for sure. Who’d have thought that old ale-sack could pass on his talent like that?” The old-timers respect nothing better than a powerful drinker. It is, after all, their own main amusement.
    Richard turned all pale, and sweat stood on his temples. I knew, as I watched him shudder and drink, that I had him at last. With a wonderful, malignant pleasure I watched him turn all green around the mouth. His eyes seemed to roll in different directions. Then, with a hideous gurgle, Robin Hood vomited up everything and fell off the bench in a dead faint.
    “Hurrah! Maid Marian triumphant!” cheered those who remained at the table. I stood and bowed, waving the empty cup, until I suddenly realized things were not all that well with me either. A little hastily I dismissed myself to take care of my own needs elsewhere.
    It was already growing dark as I returned to the back door, but dark or light, it didn’t matter, for I couldn’t see straight. As I fumbled for the door latch, a heavy hand caught my shoulder and spun me around, pinning me to the wall.
    “Beautiful Margaret,” a drunken voice mumbled. I could not see who it was. A hand mashed my breast, and a stinking, hairy mouth closed on mine. I turned my head away.
    “Just one kiss. I’ve seen you kiss Richard Dale. You’re not so pure. Give me one. You owe me.”
    I recognized the voice now.
    “Father! Get away from me!”
    “You owe it, you owe it, pious little bitch. So prissy. So holier than thou. All that holy water. I’ve fed you long years, I’ve raised you. You ate my food…” He was