Her husband rubbed his chin. 'We cannot take any chances. I want them removed from Ambrovna.'
'A wise decision in the best interests of your people. Consider it done.'
'What will you do with them?' Agata said as she pushed her plate away, her appetite gone.
Kalin took a long sip of ale and turned to her with hard grey eyes. 'It is none of your concern.'
'I will leave it to your judgement as Master of the Shield,' the Duke said, buttering a hunk of bread.
'Thank you, my Lord. The problem will be dealt with.'
Agata shivered as she wondering what fate awaited the poor widow. 'Who is she, Lord Kalin?'
'What does it matter?'
'Please indulge me, my Lord.'
Kalin grumbled but the Duke nodded.
'I believe she did some work for the Plesec merchants during the war.' Kalin shrugged. 'One step up from Guts Alley.'
Hot bile shot up the back of Agata's throat. Rabel? Was he talking about Rabel? Was it the red death or was it something else? Didn't he mention two deaths? She scrubbed her face with her hands.
'Deal with it before midday service,' the Duke instructed. 'Nothing should spoil tomorrow's Spawning Festival.'
'Think nothing further of it, my Lord.'
Agata rose to her feet, a tremble in her knees. 'Please excuse me, my Lord,' she said curtseying.
'I will see you for luncheon, my love,' the Duke replied. Kalin chewed cold meat from his knife, not even glancing in her direction.
Agata controlled herself, making sure to walk through the Great Hall at a casual pace while her heart thumped. As the door closed behind her, she bolted, almost knocking over the elderly Lord Sylwin as she skidded around a corner.
'Why the hurry, my Lady?' he said, grasping her by the shoulders to right his balance. 'Is there a crisis? Is it my nephew?'
'My apologies, Lord Sylwin,' she said, calling over her shoulder. 'All is well. I need to find Sira.'
Closing her bower door firmly behind her, Agata struggled to catch her breath after taking the stairs two at a time. 'Rabel,' she croaked.
Sira dropped her mending and jumped to her feet, her eyes wide. 'Is there news, m'Lady?'
'The Shield guards are coming for her.'
'How did they find out?' Sira gasped, hands at her throat.
Agata shook her head. 'They think she is carrying the red death.'
'I don't understand.'
'Kalin said there were two deaths.'
Sira blinked, furrowing her brow. 'Two?'
'A boy and a man.'
'Teo? Jorn?' Her voice cracked, her fists bunching by her sides. 'What happened?'
'You must go now. Tell her to run.'
'But where will she go, m'Lady? Can we hide her here?'
'It's not safe.'
'Where then?'
The two women stopped, searching for answers in each other's fear-filled faces.
'What will they do to her?' Sira said with a gulp.
Chewing on her fingertip, Agata counted all the people she knew in Ambrovna. Once finished, she counted out a much shorter list: the names of the people she could trust.
'Go to your sister. I have an idea.'
***
Rabel felt like a gutted fish as she stared at the black stain on the dirt floor. The last remnant of her oldest boy. Teo. Gone. Killed with her own hand. She wanted to cry again but she had nothing left. Her throat was raw and empty, her nostrils still coated with the smoke from the Brickworks kiln. The one-room shack seemed so large without the two of them, a cavernous hole where they used to be.
Three times during the night, her hand had reached for her pocket and the goat fur pouch but three times she had stopped, looking back at the other two sleeping heads, so small and very much alive.
Rabel had got what she wanted. Iwan was gone but she should have known the Father would insist on a price. Why would her life suddenly be any different?
'Ma.' Aula snuggled up to her side, her small body soothing and warm. Somehow the little ones knew what their mother needed. Her little boy, now her only boy, joined his sister and nestled in. 'Hungry.'
Rabel sighed and struggled to her feet, her flesh had been replaced with stone overnight. She shuffled to the shelf and found a small crust of dark bread, days old and rock hard.
The knife shattered the bread into crumbs as she tried to slice it but she filled her fist and fed her twins. Aula and Jorn lifted their heads like baby birds in a nest, craning for more. They giggled as crumbs bounced off their chins and onto the floor.
Rabel found herself smiling, Aula and Jorn needed their mother. For months, years, she'd dreamed of a life without Iwan and now the day was here. The first day in their new life. There were a few coppers left but they wouldn't last. She must plan a new beginning, her little hut in the valley with the chickens. But without Teo.
Someone knocked, hard and insistently, on the shack door. Rabel frowned as she crossed the room to answer it.
Chapter Thirty-six
Agata left the castle wearing a dress borrowed from Sira, her slender figure swamped by extra fabric. Inspired by Froma, she covered her face. The veil rendered her so anonymous, a rat-faced guard tried to paw her as she passed through the gate. She slipped from his grasp, but took note of his face.
Agata sneaked through the streets until she arrived at a side door entrance to the Plesec residence. A scrawny girl with skittish eyes answered. 'Yes,' she said in a wobbly voice.
'Is Mistress Plesec at home?' Agata said, unwrapping her veil. The serving girl gasped. Agata placed a finger over her lips and the girl curtseyed long and low.
'M'Lady,' the girl whispered, gesturing for her to enter. Agata followed her along a dark hallway lined with intricately carved wooden walls and into the solar. It was almost as lavish as her castle quarters with its cheery fire roaring in the grate, emerald velvet curtains framing the windows and a large tapestry depicting a deer hunt covering an entire wall. It was true what they said. Merchants had the riches of the nobles without the responsibilities these days.
Within seconds, Froma swept into the room, tying the end of her veil around her face. But she was too slow and Agata glimpsed her face and throat, mottled with purple bruises.
'My Lady. What a surprise. If only you'd given me a chance to prepare,' Froma rasped. 'Irina, wine for our guest.'
Agata waited until Irina left the room. 'Please excuse my ill manners, Mistress Plesec. But there was no time.'
Froma arched an eyebrow.
'I wanted to speak with you alone. Without your husband knowing. Or anyone else. No one must know I was here.'
Agata's mouth drained. She inhaled slowly, taking one last moment to gauge the merchant's wife before she spoke. 'I need your help,' she said.
Froma tilted her head and smoothed the edges of the veil around her face. 'Of course, my Lady.' She folded her hands demurely in her lap and straightened her posture. 'How may I be of assistance?'
Agata swallowed. 'You have provided wise counsel over the past year. Helped me greatly with those confusing ledgers. You are a valuable member of my Circle.'
'Thank you for your kind words. But it was my duty to serve.'
'I hope you see me as more than a member of the Duchy. I hope after all we experienced in the past year, I hope we are...friends.'
'Absolutely, my Lady.'
Agata watched Mistress Plesec's eyes, wishing she'd remove her veil.
'It is an honour to be considered as a friend.'
'I am glad,' Agata proceeded cautiously. 'People do not realise it is not easy to make friends in my position.'
'I understand,' Froma said softly, before coughing and returning her voice to its usual reserved tone. 'You said you needed my help?'
Agata leaned in, lowering her voice. 'It is rather delicate. A matter best kept between you and I.'
Froma nodded slowly but the door opened. Irina entered, carrying wine and a tiered platter piled with lemon cakes. Agata and
Froma straightened their spines, assuming the formal postures required. Froma unwrapped her veil to sip her wine and Agata politely averted her eyes.
Irina handed Agata a cake on a delicate white plate. 'How lovely,' she said, her finger tracing the familiar swirling peacock-blue pattern.
'The plates were a gift from one of our traders in Tramissa.'
'My home region,' Agata murmured. She took a generous bite. The delicacy was moist and crumbly, the perfect balance of tart and sweet. 'Did you make these?' She asked Irina, loitering by the door and the girl timidly nodded.
Agata ate another two cakes as she fought the urge to jump to her feet and run from the Plesec house. She had not yet fully explained and confessed her involvement in two murders to anyone. But if she truly wanted to help the women of Ambrovna, be the woman her mother wanted, she must act.
Watching Froma sip her wine, the truth hit Agata like a splash of cold water. There was no one else. She had no true friends in Ambrovna, no one she could trust. Froma was her only hope. Agata gulped and placed her half-eaten cake back on the plate.
***
'You have to go.' Sira rushed inside and closed the door behind her. 'Get the children and leave. Now. The Shield are coming for you.'
Rabel stared back at her sister, open-mouthed.
'They believe you're carrying the red death.'
Thoughts swarmed like flies inside Rabel's head. Red vomit. Burning bodies. What should she take? A pot, a blanket, wooden blocks for the twins? Where would she go?
'Stop dilly-dallying!' Sira tugged at her arm. 'Don't worry about your belongings. The Duke ordered them to get rid of you.'
'But--' Rabel glanced around the shack.
Sira took Aula by the hand. 'Let's go.'
Rabel opened her mouth but no words came out.
'We'll find you somewhere safe. But you must leave now. There was a guard outside but I slipped one of the girls a copper to distract him for a few minutes. But he's only young. He won't take long.'
Rabel's body felt limp and heavy. She stared at the black stain on the ground.
'Come on.' Sira frowned.
'I've done somethin' terrible,' Rabel whispered. 'I should be punished.'
'You did what was right.'
'But Teo,' she choked.
Sira squeezed her sister's arm, her eyes moist.
'I never meant...I don't know what happened.' Rabel rubbed her forehead and swallowed hard. 'I can't do this.'
'I can't be seen with you,' Sira handed Rabel her shawl. 'Wrap your face and go down by the wharves. I'll come and find you after midday service.'
'I could find a boat, someone to take me faraway.' Rabel said. 'It'd be safer for you.'
'My Lady will find you somewhere to hide.'
'And then what? I can't hide forever.'
'There's no time for this,' Sira huffed. 'Wait any longer and the Shield will make the decision for you.'
Sira opened the door and checked up and down the alley.
'Go.'
Children in hand and her face hidden, Rabel slipped next door through the gates into the stables. She wanted to glance back at her shack one last time, but she couldn't risk it. She turned the corner and headed through the Alleys towards the bay. With no husband, no Teo, no home and the Shield after her. She sighed, clutching the only things she had left in the world, her babes.
***
Agata's stomach roiled the entire time she and Froma chatted about the weather and her gown for tomorrow's Spawning Festival. Then Irina left the room.
'If we are exchanging favours, my Lady, please call me Froma at the very least.'
'Thank you, Froma.' Agata rolled the name around in her mouth. Solid and unyielding as it was, it suited her.
Agata moved next to Froma where no one could eavesdrop. 'Is your husband at home?'
'He is in the shop. Meeting with a trader. He will not come back into the house until luncheon. Business always comes first with Master Plesec.'
Agata nodded. 'So we are alone?'
'You may speak freely, my Lady.'
'I have your word? To keep our conversation between ourselves?'
Froma traced a circle on her forehead. 'In the eyes of the Father.'
Agata tightened her lips as she recalled the Scion's snub. When she returned to the castle, she must discuss the war widows with the Duke. But first.
'Goodwife Rabel Ejvind worked for you during the war?'
'You haven't involved yourself with Sira and her sister, have you?' Froma asked. 'I did warn you, my Lady.'
Agata waved her hand. 'Rabel is in a spot of trouble. She needs a place to stay. Secretly. Would you be willing to house her for a few days?'
Froma's eyes narrowed. 'Is she a fugitive?'
'It is better if you do not know all the details.'
'You presume I do not already know.' Froma lifted her chin. 'You are not the only one who has asked for a favour in the last few days.'
Agata leaned back and scrutinised Froma's full profile. Had the sisters shared their plan with her? Sira had said nothing about this.
'Rabel was very open with me. I was not sure whether Rabel and Sira had confided fully in you, my Lady. You say, this is a delicate matter and you have just as much to lose. I did not want to expose you to harm.'
'Can I be more open?'
'Most certainly, my Lady.'
Agata gazed at Froma as she bit the inside of her cheek.
'You can trust me,' Froma insisted.
Fidgeting with the tassel at her belt, Agata sipped her wine and Froma never averted her gaze. Agata patted her mouth dry and when she spoke, her voice was barely audible. 'She did it. Last night. He is gone.'
Froma leaned in, her eyes shining. 'What was the method?'
'A mushroom, I believe.'
Froma blinked.
'But now Lord Kalin thinks she carries the red death. And they are coming for her.'
'The red death?' Froma recoiled. 'But you did not speak to the Duke? Set him straight and ask for clemency?'
Agata's hand flew to her chest. She had never considered telling him. Had she underestimated her husband? Was all this deceit unnecessary? But in her belly, she knew. 'He has his position to protect and we all know the punishment for poison.'
Froma shuddered.
Agata clasped Froma's hand. 'I would be most grateful if you could help her, Froma.'
'I am honoured you have come to me for help,' Froma said. 'However...what would Danis say if he found out? We also have a position to protect.'
'Please, Mistress Plesec.'
Froma looked back at Agata with a steady probing gaze. Agata gulped and squeezed Froma's hand.
Froma sighed. 'I can find her a place in the stables for a few nights, a week at the very most.'
'Thank you,' Agatha said breathily, her palm pressed to her heart.
Froma held up her index finger. 'But if there is a public call for her, you will need to hide her somewhere else, my Lady.'
'A few days is all we need. This is a good deed you are doing.'
'I doubt the Father would see it the same way,' Froma said with one eyebrow raised.
Agata knew the Father would be far from happy but she was also convinced his negligence caused the problem in the first place. 'Thank you for your generosity. We shall send her to you after midday service.' Agata stood to leave.
'One moment, my Lady.' Froma placed her goblet on the table with a clang. 'As you know, I am a woman of trade.'
'And a very good one from what I've seen.'
'You flatter me,' Froma replied. 'In trade, there is negotiation. A price is paid and goods are exchanged.'
Agata frowned, hairs prickling along the back of her neck. 'You want coins?'
'No, my Lady. Nothing like that.' Froma held up her hand. 'I have a favour to ask in return.'
Agata's heart thumped as she narrowed her eyes. 'Yes?'
Froma paused, her eyes icy.
'I want a mushroom.'
Chapter Thirty-seven
Seliv ducked his big head, his arms raised as he waited for the blow but Kalin slammed his fist into the table instead.
'She was gone, my Lord.'
'Churls,' Kalin grumbled. 'So how are you planning to fix this mess?'
'He's on slop bowl duty now, m'Lord.'
'Not him. The woman!'
'I came to you first.' Seliv shrugged.
'Did you lose your brain in the war, Seliv? You are supposed to be my second in command. Not some feather-headed peasant. How can you lose a damned woman and her two babies? You realise she's out there now, spreading her dirty sickness across the whole town. Everyone will be spewing blood by dusk service and it will be all your fault. You hear? The deaths will be on your useless head.'
Seliv cowered.
'Go. Take all the men. Search the Alleys and the wharf. Find her now! And that blackmailer, too, while you're out there. Otherwise, you will be joining that other churl on slop duty.'
'But the Allotment, m'Lord?'
Kalin groaned, keeping his blasphemy to himself. 'Use whoever you have left. Find her.'
The large man scuttled out of the room and Kalin kicked the table leg. He sucked a breath through his clenched teeth and headed straight for the wine. He gulped down a goblet in a single draft then slammed the empty cup onto the table. Then he trudged out of his room, rubbing his forehead, wondering how he would explain the mistake to the Duke.
***
Rabel hauled her cargo of children through the narrow Alleys market, past the patchwork stalls built from all types of flotsam, her face sweaty under her shawl. Rabel blended easily into the crowd. No one glanced twice at a wrapped woman. The air was thick with frying oil, fish guts and moonshine as stallholders touted, bartered, even begged.
'Watch where you're goin',' grumbled a stubby olive-skinned man.
There was barely space for two people to pass side by side. Rabel stumbled as she tried to squeeze past him and a scowling ebony-haired woman gave her a sharp elbow to the ribs.
At least the babes were quiet. Her little ones somehow understood the seriousness of their situation without her explaining a word. Rabel thanked the Father for each moment of their silence though she doubted he'd be listening. Still, it did not stop her silent prayer. Sniffing, she found the salt of the sea through the Alleys stench and headed in the right direction to meet Sira.
Women of Wasps and War Page 17
