I had been told that my mother had been taken away by sea raiders
that she had been dragged to the sea
and thrown into a long boat
never to be seen again
And then one day
it was whispered to me
that she had not been kidnapped at all
that the red marauders had burst into our village from the sea
and cleaved the mayor
and three strong young men who chose to oppose them
and that after they dragged all our possessions to the beach
and loaded them into their boats
and the boats were slipping back into the surf
that my mother suddenly stood from her hiding place near my father and her children
and ran towards the long boats
arms and legs pumping furiously
no sound from her lips but strangled grunts
as she strove to reach the boats
before they retreated beyond reach
her feet splashing in the water
as she dove desperately towards the last boat.
The last time my townspeople saw her
she had one leg in the boat
and one leg trailing in the water
and ruddy bearded faces could be seen beyond her
pounding on her hands
trying to loosen her grip on the gunwales
to throw her into the sea.
That would have been the last I knew of her
had not an older cousin of mine
returned many years later from one of his distant voyages
and reported that he had seen my mother in a village square
surrounded by jugglers and players of the lute
during the May fest
older now
her hair festooned with ribbons and flowers
laughing with others and brandishing an enormous wooden spatula
bent over a giant skillet
during an attempt by the women of her new town
to cook the largest omelet ever made.