The Potter

On a bright Saturday morning, a young woman sat before her parent’s stone cottage peeling carrots. The sun shone in a cloudless sky, and the wind from the sea blew brown hair around her face. She glanced around and pulled a book from her apron pocket.

“Ariana. Carrots,” her mother stepped outside. “You’ve graduated from school now. You need to start helping more around here. At least until you start your own family.” The woman began sweeping the stone steps.

“Of course, Mother. I wouldn’t want to waste my time.” She picked up a carrot and tapped the side of her head. Her mothered frowned and swept harder.

As Ariana peeled carrots, an old woman walked along the path to the market. Behind the woman, a large black goat pulled a rattling cart full of glistening pottery and ceramic charms. Ariana’s mother stopped sweeping and respectfully nodded to the old woman. The woman grinned and winked as she passed.

“Why do you always do that?” Ariana asked after the woman had gone.

“That potter is the most powerful person in the village.” Her mother touched a ceramic heart tacked above the door. “She keeps our gardens growing and our boats full of fish.”

“Father does that,” Ariana scoffed. “He fishes all day, so we have enough to eat.”

“And where do you think the fish come from?” Ariana’s father stepped into the doorway. “Never mock things you don’t understand.” He placed a big hand on her shoulder.

“Are you going to the west cove today?” she asked him quietly.

“Yes, we’ll join the mayor’s boats today. I’ll let you know if I see him.” Her father grinned down at her.

“I don’t know who you mean,” Ariana blushed.

“Are we talking about Jarron, the mayor’s boy?” Ariana’s mother asked. “I think he’s with the Baker’s daughter, Leona. She’s very beautiful.” The woman’s eyes glanced over Ariana, lingering on her thin brown hair and chubby cheeks. Ariana blushed again, this time in shame.

“Well, I’m off, my beautiful ladies.” He kissed each of them on the forehead and walked down the rocky beach to his boat. Ariana’s mother turned and went into the house.

“I’m going to the market,” Ariana reached inside the house and took her purse from a peg on the wall.

“Ariana!” Her mother shouted from the doorway, but Ariana was already walking down the road. She hurried down the path to the village, passing small, tidy cottages along the way. The market was nestled in the center of the village, in a half circle surrounding a pretty harbor. Rickety wooden docks sprouted like pale fingers from the rocky beach. They were empty, the fishermen all at sea.

The market, however, hummed with activity. Villagers walked from table to table or chatted in small groups. Ariana passed a table with brightly colored shirts folded into neat piles. Another stand held fishing knives that flashed in the sun. Ariana found the potter in a shady corner standing by her cart, the giant goat drinking from a bucket. A half a dozen villagers stood in front of the cart. Ariana joined the line, waiting impatiently. Finally, she reached the old woman.

“Hello,” Ariana curtseyed awkwardly. “I’m here to request your assistance.”

“How can I help?” The woman’s voice was deep and rough. “You need a cheese jar or a pickle pot?”

“No, I don’t think so. Unless you think I need them.” Ariana raised her eyebrows.

“That’s what I’m asking you.” The woman furrowed an already wrinkled brow. They stood silently before Ariana realized mind reading was not one of the potter’s talents.

“I need something to make me beautiful,” Ariana admitted.

“You’re already beautiful. Next!” The potter called over Ariana’s shoulder.

“Wait!” Ariana stopped her. “I need something to make my hair thick, shiny, and light like the sunshine.”

“That I can do!” The potter reached into a jar and pulled out a tiny ceramic star. It was yellow and had a little hole on one end. She placed the star into Ariana’s hand.

“Thank you!” Ariana breathed.

“Weave it into your hair. It will do as you ask.”

“What do I owe you?” Ariana opened her purse.

“I need no money.” The old woman placed a thin hand on the purse. “But my goat needs grass. Gather as much as you can and bring it to us, and you will have paid your debt.” Ariana nodded and hurried off to the meadows outside of the village. She gathered piles of grass, cutting it with her long fish knife. When her arms could carry no more, she shuffled back to the market.

“I can go back for more,” she said as she piled the grass in the cart. The line had disappeared, and the woman stood alone with her goat.

“No, this is enough.” The potter took a handful of grass and gave it to the goat. “We’re even.”

“Thank you. You’ve changed my life, and I am eternally grateful.” Ariana bowed and took her charm.

That night, Ariana washed her hair and wove the charm into it just behind her ear. She fell asleep dreaming of Jarron’s broad shoulders and blue eyes. The following day, she woke and went to her mirror. Her hair was thick, shiny, and lighter than its usual mousy brown. She squealed in delight and went down to the kitchen.

“Your hair looks pretty today,” her mother said, setting a scrambled egg pan on the table.

“‘It always looks nice,” her father added. “But it is very pretty today.”

“Thank you. I washed it last night,” Ariana did not mention the charm. ‘I’m going to take those old blankets to Mrs. Williams.”

“Doesn’t Mrs. Williams live next to the mayor?” Ariana’s father smiled. Ariana gathered the blankets and hurried out the door. She ran down the path to the village but waited outside Mrs. Williams’ house, pretending to look at the garden. It had an excellent view of the mayor’s house next door. After a few minutes, the door opened, and Jarron and his father exited.

Jarron paused on the front step. His broad shoulders raised as he took a deep breath of morning air, and his reddish-gold hair glistened in the sun. Ariana’s stomach fluttered. Jarron’s gaze traveled down the street. Ariana gave a small wave, but his eyes passed over her. He turned and followed his father down to the docks. Tears gathering in her eyes, Ariana knocked on Mrs. William’s door and delivered the blankets.

After saying goodbye to Mrs. Williams, Ariana started toward the potter’s house. It stood on a large hill above the village. Dew covered the tall grasses as she ran up the path. The potter was feeding her chickens as Ariana approached.

“I’m sorry to bother you outside market day,” Ariana panted, out of breath.

“Good morning,” the old woman raised her eyebrows. “What can I do for you?”

“I need another charm!” Ariana said. “I need something to fix my face!”

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“I think it’s my cheeks. They’re too fat.” Ariana pulled out her purse. “I can pay you.”

“I wish I had plump cheeks.” The Potter dusted her hands on her apron. “You know I don’t need money.”

“Can I do some chores?” Ariana straightened. “Can I get more grass?”

“I need some clay for my pots. There’s good clay in the river bed at the bottom of the hill.”

“I’ll do it!” Ariana leaped forward. The potter gave her a large woven basket stained with red clay and a small shovel. She hurried to the river and filled the basket with the dense red clay. Ariana walked back up the hill slowly, the heavy basket on her back. Back at the stone house, Ariana brought the clay to a workshop behind the house.

“Put it there,” the potter pointed at an enormous tub in the corner. “Then help me remove the charms from the kiln.”

Ariana spent the morning pulling pots and charms out of the kiln. It was hot, dusty work, and Ariana was sweaty and ashy when they stopped for a late lunch. They ate goat cheese, bread, and fresh apple slices while sitting on a bench that looked at the sea.

“I have a charm for you.” The old woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a red ceramic bird threaded on a string.

“It’s beautiful! Thank you!” Ariana took the charm.

“Put it around your neck. Also, take this goat milk face cream,” she handed Ariana a small jar.

“I will do as you say. After my bath. Thank you again.”

Back at home, Ariana helped her mother in the garden. When they were finished, Ariana filled the small bathtub with water from the well. She warmed some water in the kettle on the fireplace.

“It’s not bath day,” her mother complained as Ariana dragged water through the kitchen.

“Well, I’m very dirty,” Ariana answered. After her bath, Ariana tied the charm around her neck and put the cream on her face. She scrutinized herself in the mirror, pulling at her cheeks and eyes. Depressed, she went to bed.

The next morning, Ariana rushed to the mirror. She gasped. Her cheeks were full and healthy instead of lumpy and chubby. Her eyes shone, and her lips were shiny and pink. Ariana touched her face. She was beautiful. She dressed, tying a red kerchief around her neck.

Ariana’s father had already left, but her mother was stirring a pot by the fire. She looked up as Ariana entered.    

“You look different,” her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I decided to wear the kerchief you and Father gave me.” Ariana straightened the scarf.

“That’s supposed to be for special occasions,” her mother returned to stirring. “You need to go get the bread from the baker.”

Ariana nodded, taking an apple from the table as she left. It was a damp and drizzly day, and Ariana wished she had her cloak. Head down, she reached the bakery and threw open the door, stumbling in. She ran straight into a man’s muscled back. Jarron stood in the middle of the bakery, an arm full of bread and treats.

‘Slow there!’ he said, a broad grin on his handsome face.

“I was trying to get out of the rain,” Ariana stammered.

“Don’t be sorry! It’s my fault. I’m standing in the way.” He smiled at her. “I’m Jarron. What’s your name? Are you new here?”

“I’m Ariana,” she said. “My father is Arthur. He’s a part of the fishing fleet.”

“I know Arthur. I’d be with them, but I hurt my arm yesterday. I’m taking a few days off to let it heal.” He raised his bandaged arm. “But I’m having a hard time sitting still. You know, I just bought way too many pastries. Would you like to have some with me?

“Yes, I’d love to!” Ariana smiled. Jarron led them out of the bakery to the pavilion in the town center. They sat at a picnic table under the thatched awning.

Jarron opened the box and pushed the treats toward Ariana. She took a small puff pastry and bit into it, a drip of cream squeezing out onto her lips. Jarron swallowed and took a pastry.

“So, tell me about yourself, Erica,” he said. “Have you always lived in the village?”

“Ariana,” she corrected. “Yes, I’ve always lived here. I was five years younger than you in school.”

“That’s so strange,” he frowned. “I’m sure I would’ve remembered someone as pretty as you.”

“Thank you?” Ariana said. They sat in silence for a bit. “Do you like fishing?” She finally asked.

“It’s ok,” he shrugged. “You know, you’re very pretty. Some people have an awkward phase and grow out of it.”

“Yes, I guess that’s what happened,” Ariana looked down. “Have you seen the new novels at the bookstore?”

“No,” Jarron laughed. “I’ve only set foot in that store once in my life.”

“So, what do you do in your free time?”

“I like to hang out with my friends,” Jarron thought for a minute. “We drink ale, and we talk.”

“That’s nice,’ Ariana nodded. “What kind of things do you chat about?”

“We talk about the usual things,” Jarron a bite of a cookie. “Which girls are pretty, which are not. That sort of thing. I’m sure we’ll talk about you this evening!” He smiled at her.

“Great. That’s great,” Ariana grimaced. “Thank you for the treat, but I should be getting back to my mother. She sent me to get bread for dinner.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” Jarron looked out from under the pavilion. “It looks like the rain has gotten worse.” The mist had graduated to a steady rain.

“It’s fine,” Ariana stood. “I love the rain.” She hurried across the road to the bakery. Inside, she picked out two loaves and paid. By the time she exited, Jarron had left.

At home, Ariana’s mother fussed over her, putting her next to the fire and bringing her dry clothes. Ariana dried herself and then stared into the fire for a time.

“I think I’m going to talk to the potter,” Ariana told her mother. “I’d like to apprentice with her.”

“Are you sure?” her mother asked. “The potter can do powerful magic. You haven’t shown much magical inclination.”

“I think I’d like to try.”

After the rain eased and the sun came out, Ariana set out for the house on the hill. The path was muddy and slippery, but she soon reached the top. The old woman sat on a bench and waved as Ariana approached. Her goat munched on wet grass a few feet away.

“Are you here for more charms?” The potter picked up an unfinished straw hat and began weaving it.

“No, I don’t think I want any more charms,” Ariana said as she sat on a stump. “I don’t want to talk to that boy anymore.”

“Yes, that happens sometimes,” the potter nodded. “You didn’t need those charms anyway.”

“Are you going to tell me there is no magic in them and that all I needed was some self-care?” Ariana smiled.

“Oh, there’s enough magic in those charms to kill a goat,” the potter laughed. The goat raised its head midchew. It bleated and ran off across the meadow.

“Not that anyone wants to kill a goat!” The potter called after the retreating animal.

“So, you wanted me to learn a lesson,” Ariana furrowed her brow. “I shouldn’t do things to impress others, only myself.”

“Was that it? Or is the lesson that that boy is a turd?”

“He’s not a turd,” Ariana protested. “He’s just shallow. Maybe I should remove the charms so I’m not shallow, too.”

“Your hair does look quite lovely. You can keep them if you want.”

“What’s the lesson then?” Ariana asked.

“Was there supposed to be a lesson?”

“I’m confused,” Ariana scratched her chin.

“Confused is not what I was looking for in an apprentice,” the potter frowned.

“How’d you know I would ask to be your apprentice?” Ariana asked. “Did you use magic?”

“Aren’t you already my apprentice? You’ve been doing my chores for days.”

Ariana opened her mouth to protest but found she had no argument. She picked up an axe and began chopping wood for the kiln. The potter smiled and continued weaving in the afternoon sun.