by Casey Lane
“Greetings there, girl,” the farmer said. “What brings you to our farm?”
Colette adjusted the straps of her leather satchel. “I am seeking employment.”
The farmer and his wife stared. “What?” The farmer’s wife said.
“Work,” Colette hastily corrected her noble accent. She slumped her shoulders and rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. “Do you need a shepherdess, or a house girl?”
The farmer scratched his beard. “No, we got no need for a house servant.”
The farmer’s wife pressed her lips together and looked Colette up and down. “But we do have need of a shepherdess. You’re a mite little for the job…”
“It won’t be a problem!” Colette, eager to seize the opportunity, almost jumped with glee. “I’ll work hard and keep your sheep safe—even if I have to fight off wild dogs, or a bear.”
The farmer laughed. “We don’t got wild dogs in these parts, Missy, but I like your spirit. All you’ll have to do is make sure the silly things don’t wander off and get lost, or drown themselves if it rains.”
Colette clasped her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Then you’ll hire me?”
The farmer spit and nodded. “Welcome to the family!” He said warmly. “Come with me, and I’ll introduce you to the flock, then I can show you where their pasture lands are.”
“Now wait one moment, this girl isn’t going anywhere near those beasts. First we ought to take her to the kitchens and see her fed and watered. You look halfway famished, girl.” Though the farmer’s wife shook her thick finger at Colette, it was impossible to miss the kindness in her eyes.
Colette found it hard to swallow, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she said.
The farmer’s wife curled a plump arm around her shoulders. “Of course, dearie.”
Colette leaned against a tree trunk. Sheep speckled the meadow like puffs of cotton, and the bells that hung from their leather collars created a never-ending song. None of the sheep, she was pleased to see, strayed near the forest. For the two months she had been employed as a shepherdess, barely an hour passed without one of the wooly beasts getting it in their fluffy head to flee into the woods. Colette’s least favorite sheep—the one she called Fat Face—was especially prone towards attempting an escape.
Colette chewed a stem of grass and eyed Fat Face. (Fat Face sported an especially marvelous fleece coat that made its cheeks resemble a chipmunk with a stuffed mouth.) The sheep baaed and batted its eyelashes at her.
Grumbling, Colette hitched her leather satchel up her back—she rarely went anywhere without it—and stomped to the stream that cut through one corner of the meadow. She splashed into the waters and scrubbed at her hands and face with a relieved sigh.
Two months of serving as a shepherdess had been more than enough time to make Colette disenchanted with the simple life. It was hard work, and was more often hot, sweaty, and difficult than rewarding…but she still enjoyed it. The farmer, his wife, and their family had benevolently welcomed Colette into their fold. She had learned how to bake bread, cook, sew, climb trees, correct a lamb’s position before they were birthed, ward off broodiness in chickens, keep a house, and more.
“I will be grateful to them for the rest of my life,” Colette said with feeling. “But…is there no place I can be myself?”
The farmer’s family and employees understood her even less than her father and mother. Half of her words left them scratching their heads and squinting down at her—even when Colette was doing her best to sound normal. At least they did not dislike her for her words. The majority of them nodded their heads and said “Is that so, shepherdess?” before changing the topic.
Colette sighed, then abruptly stood, searching for Fat Face. There it was, innocently chewing a dandelion flower. Colette suspiciously eyed the wily sheep as she slid her satchel off her shoulders and sat down again.
She had barely settled into a comfortable position when Fat Face bolted for the forest.
Colette lunged to her feet (with several creative curses involving sheep dung) and gave chase. She splashed into the stream, hoping to cut the sheep off at the corner, but she stepped on a slick, algae-covered rock and lost her footing, sending her plunging face first into the water. She popped up with a shocked gasp—though it was summer, the water was cold—and uttered more curses about sheep as she stumbled, dripping wet, from the water.
Fat Face flicked its tail as it bounded into the trees.
Gritting her teeth, Colette pursued her. Bushes and branches scratched her and yanked at her sopping dress, but she hurried on. Once, she almost caught up with Fat Face, but she got a branch in the face and the sheep surged ahead.
Finally, a patch of clover caught the sheep’s attention, and Colette was able to grab the sheep by its leather collar and begin hauling it back to the meadow.
Some of the other sheep looked up with interest when Colette and the wayward Fat Face returned, but when they saw she had no treats for them, they went back to eating. Colette pushed Fat Face to join them, then counted the herd.
“Saints be praised, none left while I was gone.” Colette returned to the little stream and picked leaves out of her hair. She frowned down at her dress, which was now ripped at a seam. “I’ll have to fix it, but what can I wear in the meantime?”
She cast a dubious look at her leather satchel, which still held a dress and some of her royal jewelry. She didn’t fancy putting it on, but she wasn’t about to streak around the meadow naked. With her luck, a bunch of the sheep would decide to frolic in the forest at once, and that would be an uncomfortable chase.
Working as quickly as she could, Colette jumped behind a bush and changed from her work dress to her costly gown. She pulled her damp hair from the ugly bun she usually kept it in so it could dry in the sunlight, then mended her work dress with the needle and thread she kept in her satchel. When she finished, she hung it from a tree branch to dry and resumed her post, carefully watching the flock.
An hour passed, and Colette drifted to the far side of the clearing, patting the friendlier sheep that greeted her. She did another scan of the meadow and froze when she realized she and the sheep were not alone.
A young man leading a horse emerged from the woods on the opposite end of the meadow. Colette’s princess training took over as she took careful inventory of the intruder. His horse was of fine stock, elegant and willowy—a riding horse, not a war horse—and wore enough colorful tack and trappings to promise his owner was in a fine financial state. The young man himself was dressed in a leather jerkin—misleading, for Colette could see the glitter of golden embroidery on his silken undershirt.
He was, at bare minimum, a noble.
Not bad, Colette thought. Nobles usually didn’t deign to take notice of shepherdesses and their sheep, so he presented very little danger. But if that is so…why is he looking at me like that?
Colette shifted slightly and realized with horror that she still wore her palace clothes and was actually presentable-looking. Ahh, yes. That would do it. She grabbed fistfuls of her skirts and prepared to run.
She was still in her father’s kingdom. The last thing she wanted was for a big-mouthed noble to scurry home and gab about the shepherdess who dressed like a princess.
She spun around and started running—intending to disappear into the forest.
“Wait, you needn’t flee on my account,” the young man said with oddly accented words.
Colette ran faster.
He started to pursue her, then he cut off with a muffled oath as a sheep baaed.
Colette turned around, her heart thrumming in her throat, and laughed. It seemed the noble young man had tripped on a sheep and was now getting a face full of wool and bells.
Shaking her head, Colette skipped far enough into the woods that he could not see her, then shimmied up a tree—which was a much harder feat in her elegant gown than her work dress—and clung to the trunk.
A
few moments later, he rode past, stopping his horse almost directly under her tree. “Hello? I didn’t mean to frighten you…I mean you no harm.”
Colette observed that the young noble had a handsome face to match his clothes, and he was tall and lean like the typical knights embroidered into tapestries.
“He’s not from here,” Colette murmured as she watched him ride off. His words were more lyrical than the usual accent.
She waited until she could no longer hear his horse, then dropped down from her perch. In moments, she was back in the meadow. “We’re leaving for a different pasture, my woolies.” She hurriedly picked her way towards the stream. “But only after I don my disguise again!”
When Colette drove the sheep back down to the farm in the late afternoon, the farmer was waiting for her.
“Shepherdess, did you come ‘cross anyone up in the meadows today?” He asked.
“Nope.” She lied without thinking as she nudged the last sheep into the pen. She caught sight of the handsome foreigner lingering near the stable, and her grumbling stomach stilled. The fickle finger of fate strikes at the worst of times. He may be smart enough to realize it was me! Though she had mud smears on her face and was safely in her work dress, she didn’t want to take any chances.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” She made a show of smacking her palm into her forehead. “I saw a very pretty lady, surely of noble blood. I think she must have been lost.”
The noble stranger shifted, and Colette hastily enlarged her story. “But not ten minutes after I saw her, some knights rode through searching for her. I’m sure they found her.”
The farmer turned around and doffed his hat at the man. “There you have it, Sir. That beautiful lady you’re so concerned about must be safe and sound. Our shepherdess is a clever girl; I’m sure she’s right about the knights.”
Colette exhaled, drooping in relief. The farmer, at least, bought the story. With luck, the noble would believe it as well and ride on.
Her relief was short lived as the young man straightened and approached them. “A clever shepherdess? How unusual.” His silken, lyrical voice was so beautiful to listen to, Colette’s only choice was to despise it. This close, she could see he had intelligent, amber-colored eyes that were a stark contrast to his dark hair.
When she realized he was still drawing closer, she tilted her head and scrubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. “Hullo, sir. Are you chasing after the pretty lady, too?”
He smiled down at her with slightly boyish charm that took some of the foxlike wiliness out of his eyes. “I am. Though I’m afraid I don’t share your belief that she is gone.”
Darn it, he doesn’t believe me. Colette tucked her chin into her neck. “Oh?”
His manners were impeccable, but although he stood a proper distance from her, she couldn’t help but feel that he was still too close. “Indeed, but I am thankful for the information all the same. What is your name?”
“Uh, my name?” Colette garbled. The farmer and his family had never asked for a name—they just called her shepherdess!
The foxy look was back in his eyes as he leaned forward. “Yes.”
“Um…” Colette glanced at the farmer—who was cooing over Fat Face and completely oblivious to the sly noble. “I don’t give my name to strangers?” she finished weakly.
The young man blinked once, then laughed kindly. “I see—that is very wise of you. Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Rainer, at your service.” The bow he gave her was far too elaborate for a mere knight. The wink he added when he caught her gaze said he was aware she knew it, too.
“That’s very good of you, sir. Most folks call me Shepherdess, but my name is…” She paused for a moment, trying to come up with a name, any name. Why hadn’t she prepared for this? She was unsteady and frightened enough to use her childhood nickname. “Collie.”
Rainer blinked. “Like the herding dog?”
Colette squinted at him as she considered how upset the farmer would be with her if she happened to fling sheep dung at the noble sir. She also wondered if others were as irritated with her when she was being “clever” as she felt with Rainer right now. “It was an omen to my life’s calling,” she said bitingly.
Rainer laughed again, which slightly mollified Colette, for he didn’t have the tittering, scathing laugh of most nobles.
Perhaps he would be a match for Arianna and her songbird laugh.
“I apologize, Collie. It is rude of me to laugh over your name.” He smiled momentarily, then wrinkled his brow. “Collie,” he murmured as if tasting the name. He tilted his head as he eyed her once more.
Right. It was time for her to escape. “Very good of you, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me—the sheep need tending.” Colette grabbed a wooden bucket and hurried off to the well to draw water for the wooly creatures.
Today was a close call, but no harm will come from it. I don’t imagine a foreign noble would remain in these parts for longer than a day—thank goodness!
Colette was dreadfully wrong. Sir Rainer did not ride on as she expected. Instead, he tarried in a nearby village and spent his days trailing her.
After the fifth day of it, he had worn Colette down enough that she snarled. “Don’t you have better things to do? Lands to oversee or some such thing?”
Rainer held his hand over his heart. “Why, Collie, you wound me so! I am, after all, searching with great determination and worry for the fair maiden!”
Colette adjusted a sheep’s collar. “Then why do you keep following a bunch of sheep?”
“My theory is that she will return to these parts,” Rainer said.
“Is that so?” Colette said dryly.
She was more irritated than afraid of Rainer by this point and was not very worried of the threat he posed. As he was not from her father’s courts, he had no reason to be looking for her, and even if he suspected who she was, he could never prove it. He hadn’t met her before. (Of this Colette was certain; she would have absolutely remembered meeting anyone half as handsome or irritating.)
Besides, the only proof Colette had of her own identity was her gown and jewels—and they still rested in her satchel that never left her grasp.
She fussed with the straps of her satchel as she gazed out at the meadow—searching for Fat Face.
Rainer plopped down at her feet, rolled on to his back, and yawned. He hadn’t even bothered to bring his horse today. “Besides, I’d be kicking up my heels in these parts even if I wasn’t searching for the lady,” he said. “I’m waiting for my father to join me. He has business at the capital he wanted me to be present for.”
Colette propped her hands on her hips. “I see.”
A sheep baaed, and a few bells jingled. “Say, Collie,” Rainer said. “Is that really your name?”
“Of course it is.” She shielded her eyes and counted up the baby lambs. “And it is shockingly rude of you to ask that.” She took a small step forward, trying to spot the last lamb, but she had forgotten Rainer was splayed there. She tripped and fell directly on him. “Oof—sorry!” she scrambled to get off him, but something snagged her foot and she fell again, landing on the grass next to him.
“Are you alright?” he asked. He brushed off her shoulder and satchel.
Colette launched to her feet. “I’m fine—stop touching me.”
Rainer offered her a crooked grin. “I apologize. I overstepped my bounds, but you were wearing enough grass to tempt a sheep.”
Colette peered down at her dress and shook off a few remaining tufts of grass. “When will your father come for you?”
“Are you so looking forward to our parting? Collie, you wound me!”
Colette rolled her eyes in disgust as Rainer winked at her.
“I expect it won’t be long now—a day or two at most. Mother might come with him—that would be lucky,” Rainer said.
“Why lucky?” Colette asked. She carefully picked her way around Rainer, and finally counted the last lamb.
> “Because then they could give me their blessing together,” Rainer said.
“For what?”
He smiled proudly. “Why, to search for the beautiful lady, of course!”
Colette heaved her eyes heavenward. “Your parents must be saints.”
“I think they’ll approve,” Rainer said.
The teasing was gone from his voice. He sounded so serious, Colette peered down at him.
His amber eyes glowed with the foxy-wiliness she hadn’t seen in them for a while. “Actually, I think they’ll more than approve,” he said.
Apprehensive for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, Colette shivered. “Then I wish you luck on your search. Oi—Fat Face!” Colette sprinted after the sheep, not because it was making for the woods, but because she wanted an excuse, any excuse, to retreat from Rainer’s intense gaze.
Three more days passed, and finally there came a morning that Rainer was not waiting for her in the meadows.
Colette heaved a sigh in relief and was so giddy, she almost laughed and danced. “His father must have arrived and dragged him on. Good riddance!” She tried to cuddle a lamb, but it wriggled out of her grasp. She lazily flopped over in the grass and repeated, “Good riddance.”
But as happy as his disappearance had made her in the morning, by late afternoon—when Colette began to guide the sheep back to the farm, she was forced to admit that she missed his company and his witticisms.
Their banter had been enjoyable. And she never feared she would offend him because he misinterpreted her words.
Colette was so distracted with this idea that she didn’t notice the farmer until he was at her elbow.
“You’re wanted in the village, Shepherdess.” He scratched a sheep on the head and smiled.
Worry stiffened her spine. “What for?”
“That foreign lord who’s been hanging round these parts took ill. He wants to see you.”
Colette bit her lip. “Is he terribly sick?”
The farmer shrugged. “Folks say he can’t eat. He’s staying at the Nimble Nag Inn. You can take one of the donkeys. Do you know the way?”
