She smiled broadly as the song ended, evidently quite proud of it, as River realized she’d just sung a song about killing her husband. It was quite horrifying and he dared to glance at Duchy, who had much the same horrified expression that his nephew had.
Clearly, Garnet wasn’t a bride candidate.
“Lovely, Nettie, lovely,” Lammy said, clapping her hands. “Sapphie, ’tis yer turn now. Play some music for our guests.”
Sapphire smiled broadly, swinging the citole around and smacking Garnet on the backside. As Garnet yelped and moved out of the way, Sapphire came forward and stood directly in front of River.
The first blast from the citole caught River off-guard; it was so loud that he literally lurched back in his seat. She was playing chords so loudly that it was enough to make his hair stand on end, but the further he leaned back, the more she leaned into him, playing what seemed like a random group of chords that made no musical sense. She seemed to think that the louder she played, the better her song became.
River was having a difficult time of it, trying to put some distance between him and Sapphire, but she insisted on closing the gap. All the while, she was looking at him with a sort of wild-eyed gaze and her mouth, molded into a permanent grin, remained open. He could see her tongue. As she swooped in closer, River was abruptly pulled off the stool by Amethyst.
“Dance with me,” she demanded. “I am very good at dancing. Let us dance to Sapphie’s song.”
River found himself being twirled around by a woman who, he swore, was as strong as he was. She had him around the waist and she was spinning him in a circle as she danced a jig that made no sense at all. River had seen plenty of dances in his time, but this wasn’t one of them. Much like the song, it was something homespun and senseless. But Sapphire played on and Amethyst danced her jig with reckless abandon, seemingly uncaring that River didn’t know the steps. As long as he was moving, and she had her arms around him, that was all she cared about.
But for River, he was living a nightmare. God, what was I thinking when I told Duchy if she had breasts and a seed cave, I’d marry her? Clearly, that had been stupid on his part. Desperation had made him stupid. But now, he was trapped with three women clearly intent on doing him bodily harm and wondering how in the hell he was going to get out of this.
He wasn’t sure he could.
As River took his punishment, Amethyst and Sapphire were having a marvelous time. Sapphire was strumming away on a citole that was increasingly out of tune while Amethyst danced rabidly with River. Garnet, not wanting to be left out, pushed Amethyst out of the way to take her turn with River, but Amethyst took great exception to that and yanked on Garnet’s hair.
With a bellow of pain, Garnet took a swing at Amethyst but missed, hitting River instead. As he was knocked sideways, Amethyst and Garnet went at each other. Sapphire, sensing opportunity, tossed aside her citole and grabbed River to steady him, but once he was on his feet, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly.
It was bedlam in the cottage of Lammy Linhope as girls fought each other and squeezed their guest. Lammy, seeing the situation deteriorate, collected her switch again and started swinging, striking Amethyst and Garnet to separate them, and then whacking Sapphire on the arse to force her to release River. She did, reluctantly, as Lammy held the switch over her daughters’ heads.
“I’m ashamed of ye, fighting in front of our guests,” she scolded. “All of ye, help me put food on the table. Get moving!”
The girls, quite begrudgingly, moved to obey their mother as Lammy turned to Duchy and River.
“If ye please, sit at the table,” she said, indicating the old, worn table with two equally old, worn benches. “Sit down and we’ll bring the meal for ye. It has been a long time since we’ve had the pleasure of a man at our table.”
It was only the middle of the day, but that didn’t matter. Food would be served regardless because guests had arrived. Duchy grabbed River by the arm and steered him towards the table, but River was still rubbing at his neck where Sapphire had nearly strangled him. The two of them sat together, closely, thinking foolishly that there was safety in numbers.
“This was a mistake,” River hissed. “I must get out of here.”
Duchy couldn’t disagree. “I warned ye,” he said. “But ye wouldn’t listen to me. Now see the state ye’re in. Much more of that trio and ye’ll be pulled to pieces.”
River knew that. He was going to be black and blue as it was. He eyed the women as they hurried about, collecting food for the meal.
“I’m going to leave the table with the excuse of relieving myself,” he whispered. “Surely they won’t want to come with me.”
Duchy looked at him in disbelief. “Ye think so, do ye? One will want to hold yer manhood and the others will want to direct the stream.”
River frowned in frustration. “’Tis the only excuse I can come up with.”
He said it rather loudly and Duchy shushed him. “Then eat what they give ye and make yer excuse,” he said. “Get to the stable and get yer horse and run. I’ll get out somehow.”
“Don’t forget my bags.”
“I won’t.”
River felt much better knowing there was an escape plan now. The food was starting to come, hurriedly because the daughters wanted to get back to the table and take their place on River’s free side. They were bumping into each other, hissing angrily, until Amethyst finally tossed a wooden plate with a big loaf of day-old bread onto the table and planted herself right next to River.
He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her as she leaned into him, smiling her big-toothed smile; he could see her in his periphery. Grossly disappointed that they hadn’t been fast enough, Garnet slammed down a bowl of something, which sloshed out onto the tabletop, as Sapphire brought wooden bowls. She distributed the bowls, glaring at Amethyst the entire time, before plopping down next to Garnet on the other side of the table.
River was praying the meal would be over soon. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before they would force him to dance again, singing songs about dead husbands and playing off-tune instruments. He was busy ignoring their stares as Lammy made her way over to the table, a big platter in her hands.
Whatever the platter held was covered with a cloth and she set it down carefully on the table. It was heavy, whatever it was. Snatching off the cloth, River and Duchy were faced with something quite unappetizing.
It was a sheep’s head that had been cooked and then cooked again to warm it up, giving it something of a macabre appearance. Most of the meat had been carved off of the cheeks and Lammy collected a hammer and a chisel, cracking open the skull as River and Duchy watched distastefully.
Pieces of bone came away, revealing the cooked brain within, which Lammy scooped up with a spoon and plopped into River’s dish. As he stared into his bowl, wondering how in the world he was going to eat something he had always thought was purely disgusting, Lammy began to speak.
“My lasses will continue the entertainment after we eat,” she said. “They love to entertain guests. ’Tis a shame they have no husbands yet to ply with their talents.”
Considering how the women behaved, that was no great surprise. River was coming to see why they had to set the man traps; it was their only chance to force a man into submission. But given the rumors of the man traps, River also wondered what had become of those men they’d trapped. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, considering his might be the same fate as those unfortunate souls. As he once again lamented getting himself into this position, Duchy spoke up beside him.
“I find it shocking that no man has wooed them,” the old man said, sounding sympathetic. “Do men have no taste in accomplished women these days?”
Lammy threw up her hands. “I wish I knew,” she said, spooning out more cooked brains. “Why, look at my lasses. They are almost to prime marriageable age. I must find husbands for them soon or they will be spinsters.”
Duchy looked at the thr
ee women, suspecting they were well into their third decade of life and already spinsters. “Have ye tried everything, Mistress Lammy?” Duchy asked, sounding as if he were very much concerned. “There must be husbands for them, somewhere.”
Lammy wiped her nose with the back of her hand as she became emotional. “I’ve done everything,” she insisted. She looked at her girls and her eyes brimmed. “Look at them; such beauties. And no husbands!”
Duchy reached out and timidly patted Lammy’s arm. “There, now,” he said. “Ye mustn’t fret. There’s time yet.”
Lammy was dramatic as she cleaned out the skull of the rest of the brains. “Look at them,” she said. “There is no time left at all!”
Duchy looked at the women, who were all looking intently at River. “Do ye know what I think?” he said thoughtfully. “I think ye should go to St. Michael’s and talk to the priest. ’Tis not far from here, ye know. The priest would know all of the eligible men in the parish and ye could have yer pick of them.”
Lammy’s tears dried up suspiciously fast. “I’d not thought of that,” she said as if the entire concept surprised her. “I’ve not been to church in many a year. Do ye think the priest will help?”
“Ye can ask him. Surely there are men about who are looking for strong wives, don’t ye think?”
Lammy looked at her daughters, who were still staring at River as if there wasn’t anyone else in the room. No one was moving to eat; they were simply staring.
“Eat!” she boomed.
The daughters jumped at the sound of her voice, picking up their spoons and passing around the bread. It was clear that they feared their mother and were obedient when she was strict with them.
Duchy eyed River, silently encouraging him to eat. He wouldn’t touch the brains in his bowl, but he did take a big hunk of the bread, washed down with the bitter ale. The shock of the situation was wearing off and in its place was a genuine desire to flee. The more he watched the women eat, and stare at him, the more he was prepared to use his excuse and run. He hated to leave Duchy behind, but the man had escaped these women once before. River had no doubt he could do it again because, clearly, they weren’t interested in him.
It was River they wanted.
So, he finished off his bread, suffering through a bizarre meal where no one was really speaking. It was quiet and tense, and River was convinced that the daughters were plotting on what to do with him after the meal was finished. He’d heard their playing and singing, and he’d lived through the dancing, so he couldn’t imagine what else they wanted to unleash on him.
He didn’t want to stick around to find out.
The moment had come.
“I must excuse myself,” he finally said, standing up from the bench. “I… I have personal business to attend to. Private, if ye know what I mean.”
Amethyst was on her feet, fully prepared to go with him, but Lammy smacked the tabletop.
“Ammie,” she snapped. “Sit down. Did ye hear the man? He has personal business to attend to. If a man says it’s private, then ye let him do what he must.”
Amethyst sat down, but it was with great uncertainty. River smiled thinly at the women, at Duchy, and headed for the door. He was hugely thankful that they hadn’t pressed him or, worse, insisted on going with him. He was going to make a mad dash to the stables and make his escape, leaving Duchy to the she-wolves. He felt rather guilty about it, but sacrifices had to be made.
In this case, Duchy’s.
Once outside, River ran straight for the stone barn where his horse was tethered, munching away on dried grass. His saddle and bridle were slung over the wall of the stall, and River had the tack on the horse within a minute or so. He was moving swiftly, terrified that one of those pushy, nosy females was going to follow him outside and find him doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Once he’d tightened up the saddle, River swung himself onto the horse and took off as fast as he could.
Free!
CHAPTER SIX
River was nearly to the main road when he caught sight of the sheep herd again.
In the distance, he could see the big, gray dog, the one that had been at the shepherdess’ side. That meant she was around there, somewhere, and although he should have pushed on to the road and far away from the women who would soon be in pursuit of him, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Something was pushing him towards that shepherdess, wherever she may be.
Something told him that he had to find her.
Following the flock and the barking dog, he ended up in another meadow, southwest of the road. He’d passed through groups of trees to get there and through an open gate, and the expansive landscape with a brook meandering through it appeared.
But no shepherdess.
Surely, she had to be around somewhere. He slowed his pace, plodding through the meadow, pushing sheep aside in his search. The dog found him. It was a big hairy thing and followed along. He eyed the animal.
“Where is yer mistress?”
The dog simply looked up at him, wagging its tail, and River continued through the meadow, finally circling it, thinking he surely must have missed the shepherdess. She was here, somewhere.
And then he smelled it – smoke.
As the dog went back to mind the flock, River followed the trail of smoke and ended up just inside the tree line to the south, where the smoke grew stronger. He finally spied the source – a small cooking fire in the shelter of the trees and a figure crouched down beside it.
The shepherdess.
Quickly, he made his way over to her.
“Ye saw those women coming for me,” he said as he reined his horse to a halt a few feet away. “Why didn’t ye warn me?”
The young woman didn’t seem startled by his appearance. She glanced up at him casually as she stirred a small pot of something bubbling over the fire.
“I tried to,” she said. “Ye were too busy convincing me that I would make a fine countess. So ye escaped them, did ye? Ye’re cleverer than I thought.”
He dismounted. “That statement tells me that ye know that bunch.”
“I do.”
“Neighbors?”
“Sisters.”
River looked at her in shock. “Those are yer sisters?” he gasped. “Do ye jest with me?”
She shook her head, focused on her cooking meal. “Not in the least. They are my older sisters.”
River was taken aback. Coming over to the fire, he crouched down, looking at her across the smoke and flame.
“But…,” he said. “But ye look nothing like them. They’re much larger than ye are, to begin with. And much more aggressive.”
“I know.”
She wasn’t very forthcoming with information, which puzzled him. “But why are ye out here in the middle of the fields, watching over the flock?” he asked. “Why are ye not with them?”
She smiled faintly, glancing up at him. “Because they don’t want me with them,” she said. “Ye’re right; I look nothing like them. They are all older than I am and when they realized that men look at me long before they look at them, they banished me.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Banished?”
She nodded. “Whenever they are hunting for men, I must stay away. And I do.”
River was coming to understand what was going on – three older, homely sisters and the youngest a rare beauty. Of course they wouldn’t want her around.
He was shocked.
“What’s yer name, lass?” he asked after a moment.
Her eyes flicked up to him. “Emerald,” she said. “But I am called Emmie. My mother named us all for precious stones, ye know. Sapphire, Garnet, Amethyst, and Emerald. Sapphie, Nettie, Ammie, and Emmie. We are the finest jewels of the north, she says.”
“One of them is, anyway.”
Her gaze lingered on him. “Which one?” she asked. “Sapphie can play the citole and…”
He cut her off. “I have heard Sapphie’s playing,” he said with disapproval.
“And don’t tell me that Nettie can sing, because I heard her song of a dead husband.”
“Ye heard that one, did ye?”
“Aye, I heard that one.”
Emerald was fighting off a grin. “She has others,” she said. “Some of them are about men who are untrue. I don’t think ye want to hear those songs.”
“I’m afraid to ask why not.”
She lowered her head so he wouldn’t see the grin. “Because she sings of doing unspeakable things to him,” she said. “Castration, I think.”
He rolled his eyes. “And I thought the words to the songs I knew were questionable.”
“I heard yer songs. They’re tame compared to what Nettie sings of. One song speaks of gouging out the eyes of the man she loves because he looked at another woman.”
“Bleeding Christ,” River muttered. “Is she capable of doing such things?”
“Nettie is capable of much.”
He believed that, implicitly. “I’ve heard yer sisters set traps for men. What are the traps so I can avoid them?”
She looked at him, then. “Ye’re looking at the trap.”
His eyes widened. “Ye?”
She nodded, holding up a hand to calm him because he was close to bolting. “Don’t worry,” she said. “This is not a trap. In fact, if ye’ve managed to escape them, ye deserve to be kept away from them. I will not give ye away.”
He relaxed somewhat. “Ye have my thanks,” he said. His gaze lingered on her for a moment. “So this morning… that was a trap?”
“For the most part, although ye were being quite obvious that ye wanted to be found. But yer talk of marriage and of being a countess…”
“Aye?”
She shrugged and looked back to her bubbling soup. “It has me thinking.”
“What about?”
“Have ye really traveled all over the world?”
He nodded, shifting so he was sitting on his buttocks. “I have,” he said. “At least, the world most known to us. I have been to Wales and France, to Saxony and to Genoa. My father wanted my brother and me to be well-traveled. He said that is the best education for a man.”
The Jewel's Embrace: A Medieval Romance Novella Page 4
