Chapter IV

Tourth

I was growing ever thankful to Deus for the strange new addition to our family. She had been modestly accurate about her hunting skills, obvious from yesterday’s adventures. However, she had been negligent in mentioning her experience working a field. Upon arrival at our first stop, she accepted the basket from the very pregnant farmer’s wife with a smile and a slight bow. Then, politely waving away woman’s attempts to explain what she needed to do to harvest beans, she asked where she was supposed to start. I pointed out her row, and without a word, she set off.

“Keep an eye on her,” I ordered Svhen. “It isn’t like we have beans to spare if she doesn’t do her job well.”

“If she says she knows how to harvest beans, I trust her,” Dardon commented, basket in hand.

“Not all of us are as enamored with her as you,” Svhen growled. He picked up his basket and stalked after her. This was his least liked job. For the entire harvest season, he acted like a bear with a hernia. I could only hope that he wouldn’t scare her off.

Taking my own basket, I turned and wove my way to the end of my designated row of green leafy plants.

Three hours later, something suddenly cast a dark shadow over the plant I was working on.

“Wren wants to know where she should work next?” Svhen informed me.

Welcoming the chance to straighten my aching back, I stood to find Wren standing just beyond Svhen in the next row over. Her dark plait of hair was wrapped around her head, pinned up off her neck with one of her sheathed throwing daggers. Sweat glistened on her face, but that was the only sign she had been working at all.

“Then work with Dardon.”

Svhen shook his head. “Dardon doesn’t want us to do any more. Something about not feeling like he has done his share if we do.”

I blinked and looked from one to the other. “Well, then you can help me. Start over there and meet me in the middle.” Wren nodded and headed off in the direction I had pointed. Svhen remained, casting a long shadow on my work.

“Dardon was right.” He looked particularly pleased about it, too. “She works fast and well.”

I glanced off after her willowy form as it stepped with fleet, sure footing over the rows of plants. By the time I looked back at Svhen, he was gone, moving after Wren in a more lumbering, but no less certain manner. I couldn’t help being appreciative. In less than a day, this woman had earned the respect of two of my closest friends and was on friendly terms with my sister. It was at the very least an encouraging beginning.

I peered over to where Wren was working swiftly down the bean row and realized why Dardon requested they move on from helping him. If I didn’t get to work, I was going to be left behind. I bent my protesting back and attended to the nearest plant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren

My back complained, but it was a familiar ache that brought back memories, happy memories from home that I hadn’t dwelt on in years. As my hands and arms repeated the motions of pulling up turnips and placing them in the wooden buckets that had been provided by the limping farmer and his painfully thin wife, I reveled in the clean smell of rich earth and they way it crumbled between my fingers. If I concentrated very hard, I could hear Ilara’s humming as she worked and Sam’s syncopated thuds as he bumped the side of his barrel, knocking the dirt off the turnip heads. Somewhere over head, a falcon cried and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted on the breeze coming from the kitchen. My mouth watered at the thought.

“Ho, here comes trouble,” Dardon’s rich bass brought me out of my daydream. I straightened under the guise of easing my back muscles and peered into the setting western sun. We had only an hour of sunlight left and two rows a piece to finish before completing the turnip patch.

“Who is it?” I asked, shading my eyes to focus on a trotting cluster of horses coming over the rise from the direction of town.

“Orac’s Enforcer, by the looks of the crest on the livery,” Dardon offered. “Best keep your head down. And you should probably hide this.” He plucked my throwing knife from my head. My heavy braid fell down my back with a soft thump as he offered the knife back to me hilt first. “He will have his men confiscate it if he sees it.”

I nodded. Stowing the knife, one of the three I brought with me, in my boot, I pulled my trousers over the hilt, hiding it from sight. Then I returned my attention to the task, all the while listening to the creak and groan of the leather horse tack as the small party approached. When they came parallel with the edge of the field, I cautiously stole a look at them out of the corner of my eye.

“You, woman,” a voice called out. I looked up to find that they had stopped on the road and a tall, lanky man was beckoning to me.

“Yes, sir?” I set down my bin and proceeded to cautiously cross to the road. I purposefully made my movements slow and weary. It wasn’t difficult to do considering that was how I felt. Finally reaching the side of the road, I looked up at the man’s knee. A lowly serf of the land wouldn’t look her master in the eye though Wren, the bounty hunter, would have no problem doing so. I had to play the part. Tourth and the rest of the men’s survival depended on it.

“Why do you not wear a skirt, woman? Do you not know that trousers are indecent?” The red satin of the man’s own trousers was so fine its price would have paid for seven of the rough practical kind I found useful.

“I am sorry, sir.” I bowed my head lower. “I haven’t had time to patch my skirt with the harvest coming in, sir.” I thickened my accent, mimicking Old Alec from the tavern. “I’s had to wearn my brother’s trousers, sir. It won happen agin, your lordship.”

“You see that it doesn’t.” He was apparently mollified by my groveling, but I still held my breath as he surveyed the field behind me. “I don’t see Farmer Ruther out there in the field. Why isn’t he there? He has a half day’s rest today.”

I swallowed my anger. The only reason Ruther had been given a half day’s rest is because he had been unable to stand due to the injury of his leg. An injury that had occurred while he toiled building the Enforcer’s great hall. “We’s friends of his, sir. We’s helping bring in the crops, Milord. I thinks he is up at his house, taking a slight rest.”

“Very well,” he replied. Then he kneed his mount forward, knocking me out of the way. I landed a safe distance away as his cohort followed in his wake, kicking up a cloud of dust that clogged my mouth and nose and stung my eyes.

“Are you alright?” Dardon asked, rushing to my side as soon as it was safe to do so. “You didn’t…?”

I spat in the dust at my feet and swiped at my face with my sleeve, not that it was much cleaner. “He is bound for Ruther’s house. I don’t think he is particularly suspicious, but I would recommend that we leave for the night before he makes a return trip.” I beat my pants with my hands. Clouds of pale dirt billowed from them.

“What did he say to you?”

I grimaced. “He wondered why I was wearing trousers instead of a skirt.”

Dardon’s eyebrows rose. “What did you tell him?”

“That my brother let me borrow his because I had ruined my only skirt. He said I should make sure I have a skirt for tomorrow.” We walked companionably back toward the field where Tourth and Svhen were waiting worriedly.

“Do you even own a skirt?” Dardon asked. His tone hinted that he suspected I didn’t. As much as I wished I could shock him by saying I did, I honestly didn’t. He must have read it in my face because he laughed. “Don’t worry. I am sure Kat will lend you one until you can purchase the fabric for one of your own.”

I grimaced. I didn’t have anything against the idea of skirts. I had worn them for many years. However, I had tossed them aside when I left home. They were woefully impractical for a bounty hunter who is constantly climbing trees, running though dense woods, and hunting for food. “I hardly think it will be necessary. It isn’t as though I am going to be wearing it everyday.”

However, it turned out, I would probably be doing just that for the next few weeks at least. Tourth pointed out, once everything was explained to him, that I would attract more unwanted attention if I continued to work in the fields in trousers. I reluctantly admitted he was right, much to Dardon’s amusement. So, when we returned home, Dardon announced it loudly to Arthus and Kat that I would be requiring more feminine attire.

“Of course, you may have one of mine,” Kat immediately offered. “I have plenty of frocks left from when times were better. They aren’t all appropriate for working in the fields, but I am sure we can find something. We can go looking after supper.”

“Just don’t get her too gussied up,” Dardon said, “We might forget that she can kill us as easily as she can curtsey. Perhaps more easily.”

I was sorely tempted to stick my tongue out at him, a childish gesture I hadn’t used since I was seven and Arnan had teased me about my braids. I refrained, but I smiled instead. Kat brought the large stew pot to the table, and the organized chaos of dinner began. I leaned in to claim my portion when I caught Tourth studying me. His dark eyes openly scrutinized my face for a moment before Arthus bumped my elbow and jarred me out of their power. I turned my attention to receiving my meal, but the back of my mind rubbed awkwardly over his attention. It is just that I am the newcomer, the unknown element, I theorized. However, when I looked in his direction as I crossed to a quiet corner to eat, he was still watching me. His gaze wasn’t particularly intense, just mildly observant. I lowered my attention to my stew and bread and tried to follow the quick banter going back and forth between Dardon and Arthus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tourth

She was a mystery, a complex puzzle that nagged me. An appealing woman, though very unconventional with the skills of a huntsman, a scout, and a farmer, she hardly fit any mould I had ever known. As she pointedly consumed her meal with measured bites, watching and listening to the animated conversations around her, I was certain she was also quite aware of my scrutiny. Occasionally, with practiced nonchalance, she would lift her head and run her gaze over my location, never pausing to show that she was checking to see if I still was watching, and then focus on Kat, sitting beside me and smile at her in a friendly way. It was the tactic of a woman who knew how to spot a tailing undesirable.

“Why are you staring at Wren?” Kat laid a hand on my knee to ensure I had heard her. “If you keep it up, you are going to make her uncomfortable.”

I smiled down at my sister. Her fair hair curled around her face, drawing my attention to her features, delicate and lovely, just like our mother’s. “I was just wondering where she came from and what she had to go through to get here.”

“Well you should wonder that with your eyes on your food. It is getting cold.” She patted my knee in a motherly fashion. “I don’t want you getting sick. The farmers need our help. Besides, Svhen says she is the fastest field worker he has ever seen. You don’t want to drive her away when we need her most.”

I glanced over at Svhen in surprise. Even unapproachable, unflappable Svhen was falling under Wren’s spell. If I didn’t figure out something quickly, I might lose any authority I had to the woman. At least Arthus was untouched. For the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren

After dinner, Kat and I left the current makeshift quarters in search of clothing for me. I was surprised when Kat, lantern held aloft, led me in the direction of the ruined keep.

“I thought it was useless,” I commented.

Kat shrugged. “It is ruined as a place to live. However, it is a good place to store things that we don’t need or use. I keep all my extra clothing here. Rovern has a chest full of things he brought back from the wars. Arthus stores a crate or two of books. He doesn’t have time to read except in the winter months. With the first snows he brings the crates into the living quarters and reads out loud to us on the days we are all trapped inside.”

Memories of Taerith’s low soothing voice filling my ears was enough to make tears press against my eyes and tickle my nose. With the sensations of Aquila’s thin, small form pressed against my side and the steady rasp of Zoe’s fretful pacing across the rushes on the floor I was suddenly remembering the winter that Aiden and Arnan were missing for three days during a winter storm. The younger one’s fear, sharp and keen had filled the air for those three days. Even Taerith’s outer calm wore thin.

“Here they are,” Kat announced pulling my thoughts forcefully back to the present. She had perched the lantern on the top of a stack of boxes so that she could wrestle open the top of a crate at their base. I stepped forward to assist her, but I was too late, the lid creaked open. “Just like I thought,” she said, beckoning me to look with her. “There are plenty here. Surely we can find one that will fit you.”

I quickly found myself disagreeing with her. The lavish fabrics of the dresses she pulled from the trunk made my breath catch. The reality of how far she and Tourth had fallen in their circumstances caught me anew. Silk, fine wool, muslin, and lace slid from the contents with sighs of delicacy. I was hesitant to touch the cloth for fear that the calluses on my hands and the dirt beneath my nails would accidentally mar their beauty. None of us girls growing up had even dreamed that such luxury existed or that we should even desire it. I tried to envision my sisters in the gauzy lace bedecked dress that Kat now held up to my shoulders.

“You are a bit shorter than me,” Kat observed. “That is an easy thing to fix though.” She draped the dress over the pile on a nearby crate. “I can always hem it for you.”

“I am supposed to be working in the fields,” I reminded her, eyeing the rejects skeptically.

“There should be more casual ones at the bottom. I just like to take these out sometimes and remember the past.” She paused. “So much has happened since then.”

“How long has it been since…” I let my voice fade away when I saw the grief in her clear blue eyes.

“Two years.” She brushed a hand over the grey wool dress coat and looked up at the ruined skeleton of the floor that had once hung above us. “I was away that night. Mother and Father never even felt the pain. One moment asleep here, the next with Deus in heaven, they never felt the heat of the flames or the fear of watching them consume our life. In some ways God was gracious.” She lowered her gaze to the cloth beneath her fingers. “At least, that is what Tourth says.”

“You don’t agree?” I asked.

She shrugged and tilted her head to one side. “I think he is right about them never knowing the pain of death. I do hope to see them again in glory. However, I cannot help missing them and missing how things were before.” She lifted her gaze to my face, studying the features. “Not just before they died. I mean before Tourth left to fight for the king. He was different then, less cautious and more carefree. I suppose it is as Arthus says, the price of growing up, but I cannot help wishing to see more of his lighter side again.”

I nodded. “At least you have him near you,” I pointed out.

Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Do you have a brother?”

I smiled weakly. “Four brothers and four sisters.” When I looked up to find her eyes round with surprise, I laughed.

“Where are they now?”

“I am not sure,” I admitted. The hollow place in my gut that manifested every time I thought of them made my dinner suddenly feel like a rock in my stomach. “We were separated about a year and a half ago. It is a long story.”

Realizing she was staring at me, Kat quickly resumed picking through the clothing. “Are you in contact with them?”

“My falcons bring me news sometimes.”

“Oh!” She straightened, a brown woolen dress hanging from her arm. “Tourth told me about your falcons. I would love to meet them someday.”

“Are you sure? Tourth seemed quite in awe of the one he met and all together they can be quite overwhelming.”

She tilted her head. “Meeting one would be nice. The thought of more does seem daunting.” She smiled. “I think I have found a dress that will do.” She held up the brown dress. A simple shift with a semi-full skirt, the brown woolen material was functional despite it being of finer quality than anything I had ever worn before. “If we hem it to a functional length and rub dirt into the weave, I think we can pass it off as a peasant’s frock. What do you think?”

I nodded. Considering the other garments scattered about us, it was going to have to do. I helped her repack the trunk and followed her back out into the courtyard. Once back in the kitchen, Kat instructed me to change while she found her sewing basket. I retreated into my room. It had once been the quarters of Lord Mynth’s captain at arms.

When I returned, swimming in a dress a size too big and a skirt that swept the floor around my bare feet, all four men looked up from their evening tasks to inspect me.

“A little big, isn’t it, Kat?” Tourth observed.

“I can make it fit better,” she protested. “Besides, it is better than too small.”

“You look halfway decent in a dress, Wren,” Dardon teased. “I can see how you could resemble a lady with a few more frills.”

“Leave her alone, Dardon,” Arthus said. “She might sic one of her falcons on you.”

I glanced his way in surprise. Then I checked the reaction. I should be surprised. Falcons were not common birds in this part of the country and a trained falcons were only common among the landed gentry. A female of obvious meager income with a trained falcon would be unusual. One with seven was unheard of. Besides, I should be glad that Tourth told them about my birds. I could rest assured that one of my companions wouldn’t shoot one down when they did appear.

“Please stand on the stool,” Kat prompted me. “I need to see where to put your hem.”

I obediently stepped up. Kat set to work and I watched her, constantly aware of Tourth’s thoughtful gaze following my every move. I wondered what he was watching for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano