by Alex Bledsoe
“That makes two of us,” I said.
“Where’s her mama?”
“I have no idea. She’s not mine.”
“Denial is a coward’s way out, son.”
“No, seriously. I found her in the woods. There was a man with her, but a bear killed him. He died protecting her. This is the closest town, so I figured she was from here.”
She looked me over. “Is that where the blood came from?”
“Yeah. I killed the bear.”
Her skepticism returned. She looked me up and down. Even back then, I wasn’t automatically intimidating. “You killed the bear?”
“Yes.”
“Single-handedly?”
“No, I used both hands.” Isidore shrieked again.
She thought it over. “Well, good on you, sir. Bears eat sheep, and sheep feed us, so we’re always glad for fewer bears. My name’s Audrey.”
“Eddie. Pleasure to meet you.”
She nodded at the baby. “Are you planning to just let her keep squalling?”
“A girl out there said she needs a diaper change.”
“And?”
I held Isidore out to the woman and said, only half-joking, “Help?”
She laughed. “Give her here, then. Six kids and ten grandkids out of me, I should know how to do this. Come here and I’ll show you.”
“No, I meant, you take her. Keep her yourself, or find her a home, I don’t care.”
“Oh, I’m too old to raise another baby,” she said as she gathered Isidore into her arms. And damned if I didn’t feel a jolt of mixed jealousy and possessiveness at the sight. She put the baby on the counter and began unwrapping the blanket.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, gesturing at the empty room.
“Outside, where the drinks are free. When the complimentary stuff runs out about nightfall, they’ll come wandering in here willing to put down gold for even the worst stuff I’ve got.” She held up her hand, which was now stained red from the bloody blanket. “Is this more bear blood?”
“That’s probably from the man who died.” I realized with a start that I hadn’t checked Isidore for injuries. “Is she all right?”
“She’s marinating in her own pee, but otherwise, yeah.” She stopped as she was about the throw the blanket aside. “This is silk. This is expensive. No one from here would have a blanket like this. It’s a bearing cloth for a squire’s child, at least. What was this man like that you say you found her with? Did he look rich?”
“Hard to tell by the time the bear got through with him.” I felt the weight of the gold bag on my belt, but didn’t mention it.
She put the blanket aside, then sharply sucked in her breath.
“What?” I said, concerned.
“Who would do this to a baby?” she said, appalled.
She held her so I could see. Across her tiny back, someone had tattooed—on a baby!—an elaborate circular design. I didn’t recognize it.
“Damn,” I said.
“It must’ve been done right after she was born.”
“That’s . . .”
“ ‘Awful’ is the word you’re looking for.”
I knew a lot of organizations and societies used tattoos to mark alliances, relationships, even social castes. All of them, though, waited until youngsters reached puberty, or at least were walking around on their own. I knew of no group that marked its members this way from birth.
“Well, at least she doesn’t seem to be suffering from it,” Audrey said, and began work on the more pressing problem of the baby’s wet bottom. “And she’s definitely not a local girl. If anyone tried this on their children around here, they’d end up on the business end of a burdizzo.”
“What’s a burdizzo?”
“Keeps the male sheep under control. Works just as well on male shepherds.”
“Ah. Well, she’s a local girl now. See ya.” I started for the door.
“You just wait right there, young man,” she ordered. She’d already wiped Isidore clean and was fastening what looked like a dishrag around her. “This child may not have sprung from your loins, but that doesn’t mean she’s not your responsibility.”
“Yes, it does,” I insisted.
“Look at her. You want her to go back to the people who used her like a sheet of vellum? Who the hell’s going to take care of her if you don’t?”
“You?”
“I’m too old, I told you.”
“Well . . . where’s the nearest moon priestess?”
“Two weeks to the south,” she said.
I raised my hands. “Look, this is not my problem. I’ve done my good deed, okay? Do whatever you want with her.”
And that might’ve been it. That should’ve been it, and it would’ve been, if four grim men on horseback hadn’t appeared outside the tavern and dismounted.
Experience told me they were trouble. Instinct told me they were trouble for me.
Chapter
TWO
Two of them came into the tavern, while two stayed on guard outside. They all had the same haircut, which marked them as military despite their attempt at civilian disguise. But whose army? Not Altura; all their soldiers were gathered at the king’s castle preparing for war, which was where I wanted to be, too. I’d hate it if they started without me.
Despite the noise from the festivities, the tavern seemed to grow silent, and the air thickened. I eased into a shadowy corner and stayed very still, waiting to see what would develop. It seemed unlikely they were Otsegan soldiers sent to retrieve me after I deserted, but you could never tell. Old Colonel Dunson didn’t care for quitters at all.
The second man looked at me. The light was dim enough that he couldn’t make out the blood splattered on my clothes or, more important, that I was armed. He nodded once to say, I know you’re there, then resumed staring at whatever his boss looked at.
“Hey, barmaid,” the first man snapped at Audrey. His attitude told me he was used to being obeyed, and having his questions immediately answered.
Audrey was equally used to not putting up with such nonsense. “When you talk to me like that, smile. Who are you?”
“I’m Arcite. Mr. Arcite. Remember that, if you know what’s good for you. We’re looking for a man carrying a baby.”
“Men don’t carry babies,” she said. “They’re not tough enough. Get your father to explain it to you.”
The second man laughed. It was high and loud, like a donkey.
This was going to escalate fast, I realized. Arcite said, “Look, bitch, I’ve been here for five minutes and I’m already sick of the stink of sheep. So answer my goddamned question. Have you seen a man with a baby?”
“I dare you to say ‘sick of the stink of sheep’ three times fast,” Audrey shot back.
I couldn’t figure out why she was deliberately antagonizing this guy, until I suddenly noticed that Isidore had vanished from the bar. Where the hell had she gone? It’s not like she could’ve gotten up and run off. Could she? I’d had so little experience with babies that I wasn’t totally sure.
Arcite strode to the bar and slammed his hand on it. It sounded like the snap of a gallows trapdoor. “I don’t like bitches who don’t know their place. You’re a fucking barmaid, and I’m a goddamned soldier. You better learn to respect that.”
“And I don’t like goddamned soldiers,” she fired back without flinching. “You all act like serving your country gives you an asshole license.”
“Well, tell you what, maybe I’ll drag you out back and show you my battle lance, see if I can’t change your mind.” He turned to his henchman. “Strato, grab her.”
I didn’t want to get involved. Really, I didn’t. I was still kicking myself for trying to save the guy from the bear. Nothing good ever came of sticking your nose—or whatever—in where it wasn’t invited. But before I’d even made the conscious decision, I heard myself say, “Ease up there, pal. You’re in the lady’s bar, after all. Show some manners.”
Arc
ite slowly turned to me, his eyebrows going up in a slow burn that would be hysterically funny if I lived to tell this story. “Look, sheep dip, if you don’t want your insides handed to you, run back to your farm and stay out of what don’t concern you.”
“ ‘Doesn’t,’ ” I corrected. “What doesn’t concern me.”
Now he gave me a look that said he was amazed I was so stupid. “Farm boy, I will end you so fast, your shadow will wonder where you’ve gone.”
“That’s a good one,” I said. I realized he still couldn’t see my sword belt in the shadows. “I’ll have to remember that.”
He strode toward me, intending to slap around the local boy, the soldier–civilian dynamic at work.
I calmly kicked him right in the balls. Much harder than I needed to, just because he pissed me off.
He folded like a battlefield observation chair.
Instantly I whirled to face Strato. I didn’t go for my sword, and neither did he. His expression told me that Arcite had deserved this for a long time, and could get himself out of it.
I looked down at Arcite. He’d landed in a shaft of sun that came through the door, and his face was bright red. “My balls!” he squeaked.
I said, “You’re not as tough as you think you are, and you’re a terrible judge of people. It’s probably better that you can’t pass those traits along.” Again I looked at Strato. “You got anything to say?”
“He holds a grudge,” he said, but showed no inclination to continue the fight.
Arcite’s eyes were watering now, but his hatred was unmistakable. I said, “Then maybe I should just gut him where he lays so I don’t have to waste my time looking over my shoulder.”
“Not in my tavern, you don’t,” Audrey said. There was still no sign, or sound, of Isidore.
“Your lucky day,” I told Arcite. “Our hostess doesn’t favor cleaning up a bloody mess.” To Strato I said, “Who is this baby you’re looking for? Why is she so important?”
“We don’t know. Our commander told us to go find a man who’d run off with a baby. We picked up the trail and followed it to a dead man and a bear. Another trail led us here.” He could see the blood on my clothes now, but didn’t mention it.
“Looks like you made a wrong turn somewhere,” I said.
“That’s true.” He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. His two friends came in from outside.
Every muscle from my brain down to my fingertips strained to reach for my sword, but I held back. They didn’t know how good I was, but I knew just as little about them.
“Arcite here opened his big mouth again,” Strato said. “This time somebody closed it for him. Get him out of here and back on his horse.”
Arcite whimpered as his compatriots grabbed him under the arms. They dragged him out with less care than I’d show a bag of potatoes. Guess they didn’t like him any better than I did.
Strato casually saluted. “Enjoy the rest of your festival,” he said, then followed the others outside.
When they were gone, I turned to the bar. “That was close. Where did you—?”
Audrey was gone.
I rushed behind the bar. There was no sign of Isidore, either. There was, however, a pile of dishrags on the floor with a baby-shaped indentation, and beside it, another rag whose corner had been dipped in ale. It explained why Isidore kept quiet.
I couldn’t explain the panic I felt. After all, getting rid of her was exactly what I wanted to do. But I ran out the back door into the street, looking around wildly for them, as if I’d lost some great treasure.
I slid in the mud created by years of tossed kitchen slop and slammed into the stone perimeter wall. To either side were the backs of other buildings, and all I could hear was the sound of the festival. She couldn’t have gotten over the wall, so she must’ve gone into the crowd.
I ran around the corner toward the noise, smack-dab into a man painted entirely green down to his navel. He was also naked below the waist, trying to pull on a pair of green pantaloons.
“Whoa, there, youngster!” he said. He wore a kind of headgear made of bright green leaves and vines through which only his face peeked out. His beard was also stained green, and decorated with twigs and flowers. The odor of ale engulfed me as he said, “Take a deep breath and smell the flowers. The festival’s just getting started; I haven’t even yet made my grand entrance.”
I tried to disentangle myself from his clumsy embrace. “Thanks, I appreciate that. Have you seen a lady with a baby?”
“Sure, she’s right around the corner. But you shouldn’t chase after her, there’s plenty of young ladies just waiting to blossom to night. Try one of them, why don’t you?”
I didn’t want to hurt him, but his grip was stronger than I expected. “I don’t have time to—”
“Behold!” he bellowed in a full-throated theatrical way that made me jump. “I am the Green Man, I bring the coming of life after the dead time of winter! The time for sad tales is over!” Then he grinned. He’d even painted his teeth green. “ ‘Coming of life,’ get it? ‘Coming’? And you, young man, let whatever drives you melt away with the winter’s snow. This is the time for love, and frolicking, and frolicsome love!”
I wrenched loose and ran into the crowded central court. I hopped up on a wagon to get a better look, but saw no sign of Audrey. When I climbed down, I grabbed the arm of the next person to pass me. “Excuse me,” I said, “but have you seen a lady with a baby?”
It was a beautiful young woman holding a baby of her own. I guessed she was about seventeen or eighteen. She had soft blond hair in a braid down her back, and a gown that left her shoulders bare. Good shoulders were a particular weakness of mine. She looked me up and down, made a skeptical face, and asked, “Is this a trick question?”
“I’m sorry, not you. Another woman with a another baby.”
“Your wife ran away, eh?” She touched a spot of blood on my tunic. “I don’t blame her. You seem to be nasty.”
I took her by the arms, careful not to jostle her grip on her infant, and said very deliberately, “Please, I’m looking for a woman from the tavern over there. Her name is Audrey. She has a baby with her. Have you seen her in the last few minutes?”
“Get your blood- nasty hands off me if you don’t want to draw back two nubs,” she snapped. “You might be able to bully your wife, but you damn sure can’t handle me.”
I was getting desperate. “This isn’t her blood, it’s from a bear. Please, can you help me?”
“Aren’t you a little young for Audrey, anyway?”
I started to reply, but suddenly I felt a rush of what I could only call perspective. Not only was I too young for Audrey, I was too young to be running around like a headless chicken in search of a baby who was no doubt better off wherever she was than she’d be with me. Audrey had saved her from the bad guys and spirited her away; my job was done. It was like a weight came off, my misplaced idealism melting away just like the green man said. “You know what? Yeah, I am. Way too young. My name’s Eddie. What’s yours?”
“Beatrice.”
“Beatrice, are you married?” Experience taught me that in these isolated little towns, the presence of a baby did not always mean there was a husband, or even a boyfriend.
“I beg your pardon?”
I nodded at the baby. “If you are married, I apologize, but I’m new to town. If you’re not with anyone, I’d really like your company.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, not at all. For the rest of the day, and for however long you can put up with me to night, I’d be honored to escort you.” I smiled my best winning, totally harmless smile.
A teenage boy nearly knocked me into her as he ran past, pursued by a girl who seemed determined to hit him with a handful of flower petals from the basket on her arm. Another young man, far more sensible, stood nearby and let his girl shower the petals down on him. As they settled, he leaned in and kissed her.
Beatrice and I were
very close now, looking into each other’s eyes. Her annoyance began to crumble, but she wasn’t an idiot. “How dumb do you think I am? You’re covered in blood. You say it’s bear blood, and I almost believe you. But it’s still blood. And you think you can just swap one woman with a baby for another?”
It did sound a bit loopy, so as calmly as I could, I said, “I found a baby abandoned in the woods. I saved her from a bear. I gave her to Audrey to keep safe until somebody comes to claim her.” That last bit was a stretch, but not a total lie. The next thing I said, though, surprised even me with its truthfulness. “I just wanted one last look at her before I left town.”
“At Audrey?”
“At Isidore.”
“Is that the baby’s name?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a boy’s name around here.”
“Well, it’s her name, and she’s definitely a girl.”
She shifted her own baby to the other shoulder and continued to look at me, measuring me with the same level of scrutiny a commander might use in selecting someone for a suicide mission. She had a gorgeous way of thinking, and the way she pursed her lips while doing it implied that kissing her would be worth the wait.
One of the basket-bearing girls paused beside us, and Beatrice grabbed a handful of petals. She raised her hand over my head and showered them slowly down.
“Looks like I caught you,” she said. “You’re supposed to kiss me now.”
So I did, leaning forward so we wouldn’t pin the baby between us. And it was worth the wait. I decided that if she wanted to catch me again, I would not be hard to snare.
She said, “All right, then. One drink, and enough time for you to convince me you’re not a dangerous lunatic. Let me get rid of my baby sister here.”
“Oh! So this is—she’s not—”
She laughed. “No, she’s not my daughter. This is my sister Cassandra. One of four younger siblings, I should warn you. Follow me.”
I did, admiring the way her skirt swayed with her walk. And everything would’ve been fine if I hadn’t, completely accidentally, glanced at the face of the baby peeking over her shoulder, gazing back at me with that blank, pudgy baby look. Suddenly all I could see was Isidore’s scrunched-up little face, looking at me with the open trust of someone helpless but safe under the protection of someone strong.
