He shook his head. 'The quality.'
'You can still fetch a good price...' Froma leaned forward but she caught herself and stopped. She closed her mouth and rested back in her chair.
Danis carved off a chunk of ham. 'Continue, wife,' he said between chews.
Froma raised an eyebrow before sweeping all emotions from her face. 'The flocks are sparse. Most were requisitioned for meat to feed the armies. If traders want mohair this season, they do not have much choice.' Froma's words were hesitant at first, poised for his interruption but Danis watched on from the other end of the table, his face impassive but not angry.
'The fall shearing is already late but if we...you...can secure the yield from this season and help the herders. They will be thankful.'
Danis scratched his ear with the hilt of his knife.
'The herders returning from war need coins now,' she continued. 'Their farms are in disarray after a year of neglect. Not everyone was lucky enough to have their businesses looked after while they were fighting.' She braced herself for his retort but he only took another bite of bread.
'If you are clever, they will welcome any price. You could bargain to even lower than normal. And increase your profit when you sell to Vinko at a higher price.'
Danis pursed his lips. 'If Vinko wants to buy--'
'Of course, Vinko wants to buy. That's why he is here. Our...your mohair is the best. Next season, when the improved wool comes, the herders will remember your deal and come to you first. Then you can demand an even higher price from Vinko and others. If you think ahead, husband, it can be very lucrative.'
Danis grunted again and slurped from his goblet. Froma took another small slice of apple and stared down the table at him, waiting, forcing a calm expression on her face while underneath her heart beat frantically.
'Interesting,' Danis mumbled.
Froma's breath caught in her throat. This was a blow she did not expect.
'Perhaps, I should bring you to my next meeting with Vinko.'
Froma blinked and scrutinised Danis's red face. She waited for the inevitable insult but Danis returned to his breakfast.
'More ham, Irina.' He waved and Irina dutifully scurried away. 'I have forgotten how good our ham is.'
'You have woken in a fine mood this morning, husband,' Froma said, clearing her throat.
'I am home from war. I am alive. Father be praised.' Danis looked Froma in the eye. She glanced back stoically. Again Danis dropped his gaze first.
Froma hid a smile behind her napkin as she wiped her mouth. Perhaps war had changed Danis. This morning his eyes were open to his prosperous future. Or more likely, guilt consumed him as he glanced at her battered face. She could not recall the last time he'd praised the Father unprompted.
'In the eyes of the Father,' she said, lifting her chin high. 'I will be pleased to help you, husband.'
Froma gathered the veil from across her shoulders and wound the cloth around her head, hiding her face away.
***
Rabel turned back to the shack with her filled water jug. At this grey hour, the queue for the well was short, without the usual banter and laughter. Women whispered behind their hands as she passed and her heart sank. She must be the subject of Alleys talk today.
Some days as she walked back from the well and past the gruel man slopping out ladles of thick beige mush, Rabel dreamed of a small plot of her own. She didn't need much, just enough dirt to grow carrots, onions and parsley, and raise fat hens again. She wouldn't mind paying her share to the Duchy and the Fatherhood because there'd be enough left for her family and she'd be able to feed her babes with food she'd grown from her own hard work. With a little piece of land, Iwan would be different, she was sure of it. He'd be like he was once again.
She shook her head. No one would give Iwan land to tend and she'd never get land on her own. But her little daydream helped to push aside thoughts of Sira's late night visit. Rabel had made the right decision. Hadn't she?
'Where've you been?' grumbled Iwan.
She placed the jug down on the table and said nothing.
'I'm talkin' to you,' he said, his eyes narrowed.
Rabel sucked in a deep breath. 'The well.'
'You left me here with this lot.' He pointed at the twins, their faces dirty with dried tears. 'They've been whingein' and cryin'. What kind of mother are you?'
'Mama,' Aula wailed, her arms outstretched.
'They're hungry,' she said.
'They're not the only ones.' Iwan, reeking of last night's ale, rested his head in his hands. 'Where's breakfast?'
Rabel brought out the remains of the two-day-old bread. She poured water into a chipped bowl and dampened a cloth before wiping their faces clean.
'Hungry,' snivelled Jorn as his sister writhed.
'I know.'
She turned to cut a slice for the twins, but the bread was gone. Rabel frowned. She'd put the bread out, hadn't she? Or was her head still in the clouds?
Then she saw Iwan shove the last mouthful into his face.
'The children?' She said, mouth open.
'They can wait.'
Rabel clenched her jaw.
'Who comes first in this house? The war time has made you forgetful of your duties as a wife. What does the Scion teach?'
'Hungry,' wailed Jorn then Aula began to cry, too.
Iwan covered his ears. 'Shut 'em up or I'll do it.'
'Quiet, babes,' Rabel said, patting their heads, her heart racing.
'Bread!' Jorn said.
'Later,' she said, smoothing his hair, furtively glancing at Iwan's face. His cheeks flushed redder by the moment.
'Now!' The little boy belted out an ear-splitting screech.
Iwan jumped to his feet and glowered at Rabel, his knife in hand. 'I told you!'
Rabel wrapped her arms around the twins as his blade glinted in the light.
'No,' she shouted.
The children sobbed against her breast and her pulse thumped in her throat.
'They need to learn.'
Jorn poked his head out from under Rabel's arm. 'Bad man. Go away, bad man.'
'What did you say, you little shit?' Iwan lunged forward with his knife, the tip aimed directly at the boy's face. She tugged the children away from his reach but lost her balance and tumbled backwards.
'He didn't mean it.' Rabel twisted to shield the twins with her body.
Iwan's eyes were wild. 'This is what I get. After a year riskin' my life, seeing death every day, wonderin' if I'm next. I come home to this? You need a lesson.'
'Not the little ones.'
Iwan crouched beside her. 'I didn't mean them.' His breath reeked of sour beer and the cold metal grazed her skin. 'This will remind you who is head of this house. I come first. Me. Not the children. Understand?'
Rabel nodded feverishly as the sharp tip pressed into the hollow of her cheek.
'Next time, it won't be you. It'll be one of them.'
Iwan took the knife away and stood up. Rabel breathed in and a tear escaped. Just as she assured herself that Iwan would never go that far, for all his bluster, he was a good man underneath, Iwan slashed her left cheek.
Rabel gasped, first with shock and then with pain. Blood dribbled down her face. A drop splashed onto Aula's nose and the little girl shrieked.
Iwan slammed the door, leaving Rabel alone, bleeding. She cuddled her twins tightly and ground her teeth as they sobbed against her breast.
But Rabel didn't cry, her mind was suddenly clear. She must get word to Sira, the sooner the better.
Chapter Sixteen
Agata pulled the slim volume out of her needlework basket and smiled as she opened the pages to read the story of Magnilla once again.
My Scion sent me to the land of the Akull to teach their people the ways of the Father. The Akull were the last remaining Clan where the Fatherhood did not sit alongside the rulers in his rightful place, providing nobles and their people moral guidance on the proper way to live.
Some said the Father did not reside in the North. That this was why the ground was covered by ice and snow for most of the year, but I was filled with the love and hope of the Father. Deep in my bones, I knew the people of the Akull would embrace the Father and his Teachings once they heard his word. As I had. I knew I would succeed in bringing the light of the Father to the wintry north. Although, if I am truthful, which I must be as a sworn oath taker of the Father, I must admit there was fear in my heart. That fear grew bigger and blacker as we travelled, as the green forests thinned and the snow deepened.
I hoped, after my many years of service and when I returned triumphant, I would receive a province of my own as reward. Not for my own good but for the good of the people. Nothing would have pleased me more than to speak the word of the Father three times a day to my own congregation. I dreamed of my own Temple keeping me warm as our mud-soaked boots grew heavy and we skidded on the ice. I sought the Father's blessing for strong and sturdy legs and for the quick healing of our blisters and chilblains but these minor irritations did not dampen my spirits.
We were a band of three Cousins. I was the elder, the two others barely with whiskers on their cheeks. One had jug handles for ears and the other, a nose like a bulb of garlic. We had food, our cloaks, a hand-drawn map and our Teachings of the Father. We needed nothing else. My beard grew long and my hair grew for the first time since I swore my oath and life to the Father.
As we travelled north, through the lands of the Neven and the Vorosy, the bandits let us be. They recognised our bronze robes and knew we were Cousins renounced of all possessions. We were not worth the bother or the extra sin of laying a hand on a man under the Father's oath.
But it was not the case when we reached the snow lands. We had been travelling along a well-worn road through a grassy plain covered in patchy snow, the monotonous landscape broken here and there by groves of evergreen pines. In the distance, the silhouette of vague white hills stung my eyes.
To pass the time along miles and miles of furrowed tracks, I insisted my companions recite the Teachings of the Father. My Scion had taught me the Teachings by heart and I wanted to pass on this tradition. Memorising the Words was the best way to fully absorb the true wisdom of the Father.
'It is a sin to let a man go hungry. It is a sin to let a man go thirsty. It is a sin--'
A whistling pierced the air and the garlic-nosed Cousin crashed to the snowy ground with a thud and a wet gurgle. The remaining Cousin and I cast our eyes about, heartbeats thumping in our throats. The fletching of an arrow jutted straight out of the bloody hole in our fallen Cousin's neck. Three men charged towards us, clad head to toe in white, seemingly transparent against the snow. I choked with fear as they approached, my head filled with foolish thoughts of ghosts. I admonished myself. Ghosts were superstitious nonsense, the tales of lowbred old women. The three horsemen stopped in front of us, bows on their shoulders. Their horses in similar white coats that seemed to fade into the snow.
'We are Cousins! Men of the Fatherhood! Don't you recognise us?' my companion said, a shake in his voice.
I hushed him as the leader came closer. Not only was he dressed in white but his hair was the same shade as the surrounding snow. A long braid ran down his back like a tail and his beard was neatly trimmed despite reaching down to the middle of his chest, far longer than the fashion in the South. I held my hands in the air as their horses encircled us. 'We have nothing to steal, sir,' I said, hoping I was using the right respectful words. Before my journey, my Scion had given me very little information about the North and I'd rarely travelled out of Nithese before. 'As my fellow Cousin said, we are merely men of the Fatherhood.'
The man grunted and gesticulated for us to follow, his eyes as hard as frost.
'What is happening?' The young Cousin hissed.
I shushed him. 'Where are you taking us?' I asked.
The leader spoke in a rough tongue I did not understand and the men on horses prodded us with their long-handled whips.
I tried again. 'Are you taking us to your leader?'
The man nodded, his voice deep and peculiar. 'Meeraq.'
I turned to my fellow Cousin and nodded with a raised eyebrow. We were on our way to the leader of the Akull, exactly as I hoped. At the time, I thought this was a sign that the Father was smiling on our journey. I thought my mission would be easy.
What a fool I was.
Chapter Seventeen
Her hands should have trembled, but Rabel knocked on the door with a lightness in her chest, her backbone straight.
She had left the twins with Dorot, a tiny raisin of a woman with a bellow which could gut fish. Hers was the one place they'd be safe for a few minutes. Even Iwan was not stupid enough to cross Dorot. But Dorot was as impatient as she was terrifying so Rabel's time was short.
Irina answered the door with her usual bowed head but her eyes narrowed to slits when she recognised Rabel. 'What do you want?'
'Is Mistress Plesec home?'
'Wait here.' Irina huffed and closed the door, leaving Rabel to wait in the street chewing on her fingers. Rabel shivered as the autumnal winds with a hint of winter blew away the last breaths of summer. In two days' time, Ambrovna would celebrate the Spawning Festival, which blessed the new eel season. In the coming weeks, the fishermen's nets would be full, but the Festival also meant the downward spiral to winter.
The door opened again and Froma filled the frame. Her lower face was wrapped in a turquoise veil but her eyes were exposed. Her left eye was swollen half-closed and the surrounding skin was mottled with wine-coloured bruises.
Rabel's fingers flew to her mouth. 'Mistress Plesec?'
'I was attacked,' she replied flatly, her chin held high. 'Bashed and my purse ripped away by some vagabond. The Master of the Shield is investigating.'
'I'm sorry, Mistress.'
'The physician said I will heal within a few days. I do not have much time. I'm expected at the castle,' Froma said, with a toss of her head. 'What do you want?'
Rabel's mouth was gluey, the tight band returned to her chest. Her body seemed to fight to keep her words inside. 'I was wondering--'
Froma sighed. 'I told you before, I have no work for you. Ucin has returned and he needs to feed his family.' Froma started to close the door.
'Wait. Please.' Rabel's heart clattered.
Froma glared at Rabel with her unblemished eye.
'You're going to the castle? You are a member of the women's circle?'
'This is no concern of yours.' Froma sniffed.
'You were so kind to me during the war--'
'I did what I could.'
'And I'll always remember how well you treated me. And my children.' Rabel bowed her head. 'May I ask a favour, Mistress Plesec?'
Froma rolled her eyes and pushed the door but Rabel stopped it with her hand. 'I need to get a message to Sira.'
Froma stopped. 'Your sister? The one with the stained face?'
Rabel nodded. 'Can you tell her...' She swallowed hard. 'Can you tell her...I agree.' Rabel winced, expecting the Father to strike her down as the words left her mouth.
'You agree?' Froma raised an eyebrow.
'Yes.'
'That is all? The whole message?'
'Yes. If you'd be so kind. I'd be very grateful and any time you need help around the house. Any chores. I don't mind.'
'Why not go yourself?'
'I've got to get back to my children. I can't leave them alone for too long. And Sira is very busy.'
Froma frowned. 'All you want me to say is 'Rabel agrees'.'
'Yes.'
'Are you in trouble?' The veiled woman traced her own cheek with a finger, following the same line as the fresh cut on Rabel's face.
'You haven't heard,' Rabel murmured. 'I thought it was all over town.'
'I am not some fishwife. I do not listen to the gossip on the street. Your husband I presume?'
Rabel hung her head and nodded.
Froma let ou
t a long slow breath and steepled her fingers in front of her veiled mouth.
Rabel's heart thumped as she waited. It was a foolish idea to come to Mistress Plesec for help. Why would she care?
'I will do this for you.'
Rabel gasped. She saw a surprising softness in Froma's eyes as she gushed, 'Thank you. Thank you. Please do not tell another living soul. Please, Mistress Plesec.'
'I understand.'
'And if you ever need me for anything. Just ask. Thank you again.'
Froma closed the door and Rabel rushed back into the Alleys. With each step, the knot in her belly hardened. The message was on its way to Sira. The flame was lit.
***
Froma covered her face as best she could. She had felt Rabel's pitying glances and did not want to invite disdain from the Circle members. Songs had been written about her mother's chestnut hair, which glistened like auburn flames in the sunlight but Froma was her father's daughter. From ten summers old, Froma had stood shoulder to shoulder with her father and brothers and all the admiration flowed to her sister, Anuka with her pale skin, small hands and rust-red hair. Her father had joked at the dining table, 'I should thank the Father. I'll only have one dowry to pay for.' Her brothers had guffawed while her mother patted her hand. Froma had narrowed her eyes and tossed her head but inside, her heart crumbled.
'At least you are useful, girl,' her father would say. 'And I do not have to worry about you running off with some mummer. Anyway, you are valuable. You know the abacus better than me.'
While other girls courted and found husbands, Froma distracted herself with the accounts and the yield on barley from the fields of Ledvor. Eventually, she stopped imagining her betrothal and resigned herself to a life in the port town of Veigur helping her father, the merchant. As he had said, she was an asset, unlike those other featherbrains. Until one day, Danis had appeared.
Satisfied with her wrapping, Froma left for the castle, her mind churning with Rabel's secret message. The mystery was a welcome respite from her own troubles. Yet this morning Danis had seemed different, like a warm breeze blowing through the house. She sighed and shook her head at her own simple-mindedness. Of all people, she should know a few kind words did not make a reformed man.
Women of Wasps and War Page 9
