Lucien

by James Moloney

  I was still pinned inside the troublesome bodice when Hespa arrived, looking like she had lain most of the day in bed and spent the rest in front of a mirror.

  ‘You’re making a dress and you didn’t even tell me!’ she cried.

  Birdie was forced to stand back while Hespa fussed about me, making comments. ‘The colour is perfect for you, Silvermay, and the material is better than anything I have.’ She rubbed it between thumb and fingers. ‘But those sleeves … they need to be fuller, don’t you think?’

  She made slow progress around me, emitting little sounds of approval, until she stood in front of me again. ‘The neckline could be more daring.’

  I slapped my hand onto my chest in dismay. ‘I don’t want everyone staring at me, just Tamlyn.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll have the whole village staring at you, Silvermay. There’s no doubt about that,’ said Hespa in the same teasing tone.

  She broke into easy laughter, then stopped suddenly when Birdie sent her a daggered look.

  ‘It’s all right, Mother. Hespa’s just having fun,’ I said to calm the awkward moment.

  After a glance between them, all seemed well, and together they unpinned me. When I was once again in my mud-coloured dress, Hespa announced the reason for her visit.

  ‘The wildflowers are out. I’m going for a basketful. Do you want to come?’

  The way we usually picked wildflowers was that I spotted the best ones, I bent my back to pick them and pile them in the basket, while Hespa strolled beside me talking. It was different this time, though. Suddenly Hespa had the eyes of a hawk and beat me to the brightest colours. She even filched the best from my basket while we were on our way back.

  ‘If you have a new dress, then I should have the prettiest flowers,’ she said, pretending jealousy.

  There are one or two wonderful feelings that start when you are little and never quite go away, no matter how old you become. One of those is waking up on your birthday knowing a present awaits you, even though your parents have spent days pretending that nothing special is about to happen. It wasn’t my birthday, but that was how I felt when I woke to a sunny morning and stumbled out through the curtain before I’d done up the last of the buttons on my mud-coloured dress.

  ‘Did you finish?’ I asked Birdie.

  Yesterday, when Hespa and I had returned with the flowers, only the hem remained to be stitched, and after supper, when my father announced he was taking Tamlyn off to the inn, I’d happily shooed them out the door so that Birdie could get the job done. The men were gone a long time, and although I sat huddled by the candle for as long as I could, Birdie sent me off to bed before she was done.

  Now it was morning and, in answer to my question, Birdie nodded, then glanced towards Tamlyn who hadn’t left for the barn yet.

  Good, I thought. I didn’t want to wait another minute for him to see me in blue.

  ‘I’ll put it on then,’ I said.

  ‘No,’ said Birdie in the sharp tone she reserved for my worst misdemeanours. ‘It’s not quite right yet. The … er … the sleeves need adjusting.’

  The sleeves had been perfect last night, especially after she’d followed Hespa’s advice. I looked over to find my father listening to us. When he saw me staring at him, he hauled Tamlyn to his feet and hurried him outdoors, even though my poor darling hadn’t finished his breakfast.

  Despite Ossin’s tugging at his sleeve, Tamlyn paused in the doorway. ‘See,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘The bandages are gone. Come and see me in the barn in a little while and I’ll show you how well they have healed.’

  And I will show you the surprise I promised, I wanted to say, but he was gone before I could get the words out.

  No sooner had he left than my mother changed her mind. ‘Perhaps you can put it on, after all,’ she conceded.

  ‘But you said it isn’t finished!’

  She offered a shrug, which only annoyed me more.

  ‘What use is putting it on now when Tamlyn’s already gone for the day?’ I said.

  ‘He’ll see you soon enough. Didn’t he just ask you to visit him in the barn?’

  That was true, and to reach him I would have to parade through the village. I must admit, the idea appealed to me, even if it smacked of shameless vanity.

  My mother had done a wonderful job. Once the dress had settled around me and I’d indulged in a couple of girlish whirls to enjoy how the fabric fell so perfectly around me, I hugged her to show my appreciation.

  ‘Careful, you’ll crush the bodice,’ she complained, pushing me away gently.

  ‘It will get creased when I do my chores in it,’ I said.

  ‘Not today, Silvermay. Today you won’t have to lift a finger. I promise.’

  That wasn’t like Birdie, but I wasn’t going to argue.

  We were checking the fit at my waist when Hespa arrived for a repeat of yesterday’s slow circle of inspection. I stood like a statue, holding my breath for her verdict.

  ‘You have never looked so beautiful,’ she said finally. ‘Look, I have just the thing to set it off.’ And, returning to the basket she had set down inside the door, she picked out a garland of pink and white. ‘I made this from the flowers we picked yesterday. I thought you might hang it on your wall, but it would look so much better in your hair, don’t you think?’

  I really would be a sight on my walk to the barn. I began to worry we were overdoing it. ‘People will laugh at me for putting on airs.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Hespa and, grabbing a brush she had also brought in the basket, she positioned herself behind me. ‘Come on, we have to do this properly.’

  Birdie joined in with our own brush and together they groomed my hair like I was a horse to be put on show. Again the urge to object rose in me, but I forced it down again. My mother hadn’t combed out my unruly hair this way since I was twelve years old. I felt like her daughter again, in a way I hadn’t for too long. If I hadn’t been so eager to get moving, I might have wept a tear or two.

  My two faithful attendants weren’t in any rush.

  ‘What do you think about braids, Hespa?’ Birdie asked, as though I was a giant doll with no mind of my own.

  ‘Just what she needs.’

  They set about plaiting my hair into thin braids, leaving some to hang loose and pinning others in circlets around my head to support the garland.

  ‘There, I think she’s ready, don’t you?’ asked Birdie.

  Hespa appraised me once again, though only from the front this time.

  ‘I wish I could see myself,’ I said, but only a religo’s daughter could afford a mirror. The rest of us had to make do with the reflection from a window. Even then, few homes in our village boasted such a luxury, but there was always Mr Nettlefield’s inn, which had the best pane of glass in the village. We would pass it on the way to the barn.

  ‘Can we go now?’ I asked.

  Hespa and my mother conferred over this as though it was the most important decision they would make all week. A nod from one, then, hesitantly, a nod from the other. If they had delayed any longer, I would have gone on my own.

  Perhaps I could be forgiven for noticing my own dress and no one else’s that morning, but when we emerged into the brilliant sunshine the colour of Hespa’s dress caught my eye.

  ‘That’s your best, isn’t it?’ I asked her. ‘Is there some special occasion?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to outshine me by too much, that’s all,’ she said.

  The same fear seemed to have afflicted Birdie, too. Now that I looked at her properly I saw she was wearing the outfit Father had bought for her in Vonne when he’d gone there to sell his hawks. My mother didn’t much care for pretty things, so she kept it for dancing at the spring fair and for village weddings, of course.

  Yesterday’s sunshine had dried the puddles, making it easier to walk along the lane without a speck of mud ruining my dress. All the same, I lifted the crisp skirts so the hem remained spotless, as well. Even with my
eyes on the ground, checking the way ahead, I was aware that no one seemed to be about. This gave me a chance to practise walking nonchalantly so that it didn’t look like I was showing off.

  We had turned into the wider street that led towards the inn and the barn before I spotted a single face. And only faces they were, too, topped by matching blond hair: the Wickstead twins were poking their heads around the corner of a house, as part of some game, I supposed. They watched, wide-eyed, as we drew closer and at last I felt my new dress was being admired.

  Ahead of us on the street, I spotted Mr and Mrs Stile, walking arm in arm. They were stooped over, as people get when they are as old as those two. Beside them was Mr Renstable, not as bent since he wasn’t quite as old, but content to share their tortoise’s pace. When we drew level with them, all three stopped and turned to face us. They were smiling broadly, and Mr Renstable lifted his hat at the way I was parading around the village. I returned the favour with an extravagant bow that made the elderly trio smile all the more.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ I asked finally, as we drew close to the square outside the inn. We had barely seen a soul.

  ‘Perhaps they have all gone to the barn to help with the threshing,’ said Birdie.

  ‘Then the air will be thick with grain dust,’ I moaned.

  At least the earth was packed hard by constant walking on this part of the road so I could safely let my skirts fall the way they were supposed to. On the corner ahead was the Grentrees’ house, and once we’d passed it we’d have a clear view of the inn and its handy window. Even at this hour, there would be a few people outside its door.

  But when we did turn the corner, there were more than a few. I snatched in a breath at how many, for the entire village seemed to have gathered there. They stood in two lines, forming a V, and somehow we had blundered into its open end. My eyes were drawn quickly along those lines to where the village elders seemed to be waiting for someone.

  The surprise of seeing all the villagers had stopped me in my tracks, but at the sight of the elders, I asked Birdie, ‘Is someone getting —’

  The final word never left my lips, because my eyes had been searching for Tamlyn and I had just found him. Instead of the grubby workman’s clothes he’d left the house in, he now stood out in a smart coat and britches.

  ‘Me?’ I cried to Birdie. ‘But, Mother, I can’t get married. The law forbids it. A bride must be seventeen.’

  She smiled and took my hand. ‘Silvermay, my darling, you have been too busy to count the days and the months, but a mother knows her daughter’s birthday. You have been seventeen for some time now, and when Tamlyn asked for your hand, we were more than pleased to say yes.’

  Asked for my hand? Of course! I’d stumbled on the very moment, hadn’t I.

  ‘When I saw the three of you together, you were talking about me,’ I said.

  ‘Tamlyn talks about nothing else,’ said Birdie. ‘He wanted to marry you that same day, but I thought … a new dress, at least.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I spun on my heels to face Hespa. ‘You must have known.’

  She was smiling with her whole face. ‘It’s the only secret I’ve ever kept from you, Silvermay. I nearly gave the game away a dozen times.’

  Birdie came round to stand beside Hespa. Again she took my hand and said more seriously, ‘You can say no, if this is not what you want.’

  ‘Oh, Mother,’ I sighed. ‘This is all I’ve wanted since the first day I saw him.’

  ‘Well, go to him, then. The elders are waiting.’

  On that day, I witnessed my own wedding through a mist of tears, yet one part remains clearer than the rest, Tamlyn held out his hand, the palm open to the sky, inviting me to cover it with my own, and once we were joined in this way we spoke the words every bride and groom have uttered in Haywode for a hundred years. ‘We promise to remain faithful to one another until death breaks our bond.’

  As I recited the vows of marriage, I did not know how quickly I would be asked to deny them, nor the real and deadly meaning they would take on.

  25

  Religo Norbett

  What happens after marriage vows are exchanged? A celebration, of course! I knew now why Mr Nettlefield had brought a fresh barrel of ale up from the cellar. There was wine, too, and food that would have been better saved for the hungry months before the next harvest.

  When I said as much to Birdie, she hugged me close without a thought for creasing my dress and said, ‘Today, Silvermay, no one in the village gives a care about tomorrow. Can’t you see how happy they are for you? You and Tamlyn have brought them a few hours of joy and they are determined to make the most of it.’

  Everyone came in turn to congratulate us, and me especially, since I was the one they knew — I was Ossin and Birdie’s youngest girl whom they had watched inch her way slowly from baby to bride. In between the next kiss on the cheek or shake of the hand I watched the children chasing one another in the grassy courtyard, just as I had done when the first of my sisters had married. It seemed only a year or two ago, and now I was married and their children were playing at my wedding.

  Both of my sisters had come in from their outlying farms with their children, glad of the holiday from the farm work left to them now their husbands were away. In Mr Nettlefield’s inn that day, the only men to be seen were grandfathers, all of them, and the only boys those too young to lift a sword. If Tamlyn had not stood out in my eyes for personal reasons, he would have been noticeable for this alone.

  ‘Why does my bride have such a long face?’ he asked me in a teasing tone. ‘Do you regret marrying me already?’

  I folded myself into him, something I could do as often as I liked from now on without a reason or excuse, and without the need to glance left and right to check who might be watching.

  ‘I was thinking what a terrible thing war is,’ I whispered into his chest. ‘It has taken all the men and it might take —’

  He pressed my face against him to stop the words. ‘This is not the day to think of such things, Silvermay.’

  Before I knew where the time had gone, it was early afternoon and I had already been a wife for three hours. At every wedding I could remember there had been dancing, but not at mine. For all the joy the villagers felt that day, to dance with so few men to take their part would have been too painful. That didn’t stop the girls in the courtyard pressing the boys of their age into reluctant service, though. When one of the older boys rushed into the inn waving his arms and shouting, I thought he was complaining about this. But I was wrong. Very wrong.

  ‘They’re coming! I saw them between the houses,’ he cried.

  Such words seemed out of place amid the fun and the poor boy had to try again, louder and more insistently, before anyone asked what he was fussing about.

  ‘The religo’s men, they’ve come back.’

  Immediately Mr Nettlefield’s ale room went silent except for the swish and sway of skirts and the scrape of boots as everyone turned to stare through the window.

  ‘Tamlyn, this way,’ said my father, appearing suddenly at his shoulder. ‘You must hide.’

  Tamlyn pushed Ossin’s hand away. ‘A man shouldn’t hide on his wedding day.’

  ‘If you want to be married for more than one day, you’ll have to,’ said Father. ‘The cellar will keep you out of sight until they’re gone.’

  Tamlyn understood, but still he was reluctant.

  ‘Please go,’ I begged him. ‘No one will hold it against you.’

  Pride kept him in place even then, but with Ossin tugging at him and me pushing, he let himself be led to the trapdoor behind the counter. It was too small for barrels, which were loaded in and out of the cellar through larger doors in the street. My last view of Tamlyn was his face turned up towards me, showing no fear but he was crimson with humiliation.

  ‘Outside! Everyone outside!’ came the call from the village square where the riders had come to a halt — a dozen of them judging by the jumble of
horses’ legs I could see. Slowly, the people of Haywode obeyed until only Birdie, Ossin and I remained.

  ‘No one will give him away, you can be sure of that,’ said Ossin.

  Birdie knew more than words were needed. She hugged me, hardly for the first time that day, and whispered, ‘Not a tear, not a word, and they’ll be gone before you know it.’

  We couldn’t delay any longer and quickly emerged into the afternoon light to join the others. Only then did I see the faces of the riders, and one in particular. Astride a dappled grey of the finest breeding sat Religo Norbett himself.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ I whispered to Birdie, even though she had warned me to stay silent.

  She shook her head without turning towards me.

  I resisted the urge to add, ‘What is he here to steal this time?’ because I already knew the answer. He was here to take away my husband. But why come himself if this was simply another sweep through his villages to search for more fighting men?

  Our religo loved a sense of occasion. He deliberately kept us waiting until every villager’s feet shuffled in anticipation. Only when he was satisfied that our ears were anxious for his words did he prod his horse a few steps forward into the open space of the square, lording it over us from the height of horseback.

  ‘Good people of Haywode,’ he began, ‘you have sent many fighters to join your lord’s forces. You are proud of them, I’m sure. You will be pleased to hear, then, that the fighting of recent days has ceased.’

  This was entirely unexpected, to say the least. I could see the questions on the faces of the women around me. When would the men be coming home? How long must they wait to see their husbands, their brothers, their sons? For me, it meant that my father would not have to return to the fighting once his arm was healed, and Tamlyn wouldn’t have to fight at all!

  ‘I see that you are all delighted at this news,’ said Norbett with a smirk he didn’t attempt to hide. ‘And so you should be. There is nothing to be gained by sending twenty men into battle when twenty thousand is what we need.’