Men In Chains

by Virginia Reede

  She had sometimes daydreamed that when phase two of her plan was in place, she herself might help some of the men become more comfortable with the idea of consensual coupling, but since she could not get pregnant herself, this was a secondary consideration to the overall purpose of the plan. Now, it seemed there was a possibility she could be taught a thing or two about what pleasures the act might hold. It was a tantalizing thought, and Delinda shivered despite the warmth of her bed.

  These delicious thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices downstairs. The household was awake, and Delinda reluctantly arose to dress and see what was going on. Downstairs she found Ostyn standing on a ladder, calling out the contents of the kitchen’s upper shelves to Letta, who was sitting at the table and writing down what must be an inventory. A steaming kettle sat on the stove and delicious scents wafted from some closed pans that warmed nearby. The kitchen already looked much cleaner and more orderly than it had the day before.

  Korin came in, freshly bathed and smiling. “How is your head?” she asked Delinda.

  “It has been better,” she replied. “But I’m sure it will be fine as soon as I have some tea and breakfast.”

  “I’ll join you,” said Korin. “I took my bath first so you would not have to eat alone. The others have all been up since daybreak, not having been as free with the wine as you and I.”

  “Jeryl has already eaten?” asked Delinda, with a pang of disappointment. After her vivid fantasies, she had wondered if he had been having similar thoughts and had looked forward to seeing him across the breakfast table.

  “Yes, he’s out surveying the fields to see what can still be planted this late in the season,” said Korin, filling two plates and bringing them to the table, carefully avoiding Letta’s lists. She must have noted Delinda’s surprise, and added, “Oh, I know it is still spring, but when fields have not been planted for some time there is preparation before the sowing of the seeds. I would not know, but Jeryl seems to have enough experience to get a general idea of the condition of the soil. He agreed to give Letta a list of seeds and supplies to be ordered in town. He said waiting until you are able to acquire more employees might be too late.”

  Delinda sipped the tea Korin handed her and smiled. Jeryl must not be planning to run away if he is concerning himself with the planting schedule. Ostyn climbed down from the ladder and beamed when Letta thanked him for his help. Delinda noted he looked at her almost worshipfully as she frowned over her lists and made notations.

  “How are you progressing?” asked Korin. “We need to get back to the village—I have some customers coming in to pick up their orders around midday and I had not really planned to be gone all night.”

  “I’m done, I think,” said Letta, turning to Delinda. “You have most of what you need as far as equipment goes—it just needs to be cleaned up and organized a bit. I sorted out the laundry and gave Jeryl enough instruction to give it a start, and if you could just take a moment to sign the letter of permission I have prepared, Ostyn and I can split up and get all of your orders filled in time to come back tonight. He is going to follow me with your larger wagon to bring it all back. We just need Jeryl’s list and we can go.”

  “And here it is,” said Jeryl from the back door. “I’m afraid I was the least apt pupil in my generation when it came to the family farm, and there were many layers of overseers and managers between the workers and my brothers, but it was impossible to grow up in my father’s house and not absorb some knowledge.” He handed a neatly lettered page to Letta. “It is all I could think of and, I hope, enough to make a start until you can get some real experts out here.”

  Ostyn and Letta went out to hitch up the horses to both wagons and Korin and Delinda cleaned up the remains of breakfast, Korin expressing her amusement at Delinda’s ineptitude at the task. She might not have grown up with full-time household slaves, but day-to-day cleaning was still a new experience for her.

  Jeryl watched for a few moments, enjoying the domestic scene and laughing along with them when Delinda soaked her shirt with water by dropping a too-heavy pot into a full basin, sending up a geyser that Korin barely managed to avoid by stepping back quickly.

  “You remind me I need another bath,” he said. “From the looks of things you have decided to take yours standing up today.” He grinned at her sodden blouse and the front of her pants. He could see the outline of her breasts and her stomach though the wet material and felt an ominous stirring in his groin. He hastened from the room, thinking how troublesome it would be if he was to get an erection every time he looked at her, like a schoolboy who had just discovered his own manhood. Damn, but the woman affected him! And those long legs, in those trousers that left nothing of her curves to the imagination. He did not reflect that all the women in this land were similarly attired, and it was only Delinda that caused him to think about how the place where the back of her legs met her bottom was so clearly defined. Maybe I had better use the cold water tub today.

  He decided it would be rude to be in the bath when Ostyn, Letta and Korin departed, so instead of heading straight to the bath, he returned to his room and straightened his bed linens, a task he was acquainted with from living aboard a ship where the men often had other responsibilities to see to than cleaning up after their captain. He stood in the cool air of the balcony until his ardor had subsided and then walked out to the stables, where Ostyn was leading the pair of carriage horses hitched to a practical wagon with a heavy cloth covering. Korin’s smaller wagon was already in front of the house and Letta was in the driver’s seat. Korin and Delinda embraced in front of the door, promising to see one another at the next market day, and then Korin got up beside Letta and the two wagons headed off down the lane.

  Delinda and Jeryl waved at the departing trio then turned to face each other. Abruptly, they both seemed to realize they would be alone together in the big house for the entire day. Delinda was the first to speak.

  “I see you have not yet had your bath,” she said quietly.

  “No,” he replied. Then he added tentatively, “Perhaps you are ready for yours as well.”

  “Perhaps,” she said, and followed him as he turned to walk into the house.

  * * * * *

  Grenda was in a foul mood. Last night, too much ale and the weight of her share of the outlander’s price in her pocket had turned out to be a bad combination. She never should have left Bretna’s Inn. But when Blenshi had said she was heading to another tavern which featured dicing and other games of chance, she had gone along, thinking that for once she could wager like a noblewoman, with silver instead of copper.

  This morning, the coins clinking in her pocket reminded Grenda she hadn’t yet had the nerve to count what remained and find out how much she had lost. She already knew some of the plans she’d had for the money would have to be forgotten.

  Bloduewedd was not in the best of moods either, and Grenda was having a harder time than usual ignoring the barbs of her employer’s tongue. The two of them rode down the center of the village’s main street, and Grenda tried to concentrate as Bloduewedd dictated orders, made criticisms and commented on the day’s business.

  The Ra-drine pulled up her horse with little warning, causing Grenda to have to react quickly. She looked to see what had caused the halt, and saw Bloduewedd was watching something in a nearby alley with narrowed eyes. Grenda followed her gaze and saw a large wagon pulled up next to the farming supply merchant’s side door. A small slave was directing a group of the merchant’s males, who were loading a steady stream of supplies into an already laden bed. A young woman stood on the driver’s seat, arms on hips, looking on with satisfaction.

  “Isn’t that the girl Korin took in?” Bloduewedd asked.

  “I think so,” said Grenda, wondering why a wagon being loaded had the Ra-drine so interested.

  “Why does a tailor’s assistant need all that seed? And those implements are not for a kitchen garden,” said Bloduewedd.

  Grenda trie
d to think of something helpful to say, but came up with nothing. Goddess, but her head hurt! She hoped the Rahntadrine would lose interest and move on, but wasn’t really surprised when she began to give orders.

  “I want you to go to Korin’s shop and find out what is going on. That Delinda woman went to the shop as soon as she bought the outlander, if rumor can be believed. I have been meaning to find out about her connection with Korin and now it appears they have another.”

  Grenda groaned—she’d been thinking of stopping by the inn to see if a small glass of ale would cure the worst of her hangover—but sat up straighter when a sharp glance from Bloduewedd told her the Ra-drine had noticed she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. “Yes, me Ra-drine,” she mumbled, and turned her horse in the direction of Korin’s store.

  She did not usually buy from the place—Bloduewedd had slaves who took care of the tailoring and cobbling for her soldiers and the rest of her household, and ordered her own wardrobe from the city. She would have to pretend to be interested in something in order to have an excuse to talk to Korin. In the past, the snotty old bitch hadn’t even bothered to pretend she respected Grenda and her employer. Racking her brain, Grenda remembered admiring some boots—hadn’t the owner said Korin’s assistant made them? She dismounted her horse and entering the store.

  Korin turned at the sound of the bell, looking surprised and none too pleased to see who it was. Grenda, feeling awkward, said, “Hello, Korin.” Korin nodded but did not say anything. She raised her eyebrows, waiting. “I, er, wanted to ask about boots.”

  “What about them?” Korin wasn’t making this any easier.

  “I saw some boots I liked and the woman said that girl who works here, what is her name?” asked Grenda.

  Korin hesitated, frowning, before answering. “Letta.”

  “Yeah, that’s it, Letta. She said Letta made ‘em.” Grenda was relieved the conversation was going as she had hoped. “Where is she, anyway?”

  Again, Korin hesitated. “She is no longer employed here,” she replied with obvious reluctance.

  This surprised Grenda. “As of when?”

  “As of today, actually,” said Korin. “But I have all her patterns. If you could describe the boots I would probably recognize them.” She looked distastefully at Grenda’s large, muddy feet. “And I would have to measure your feet, of course.”

  “Where’d she go?” asked Grenda.

  Korin sighed. In a village this size, Letta’s change of employment would hardly remain a secret for long, but she had hoped it would not reach the Rahntadrine’s ears before Letta even arrived at her new post. Bowing to the inevitable, she said, “She has accepted a position with Delinda, helping her manage the estate.” To her dismay, Grenda only nodded, indicating this was not a complete surprise. This is what she came in here to find out, she realized with alarm. Surely Bloduewedd could have no suspicions of Delinda’s plans. She did not think Delinda had told anyone, other than her employees and Korin herself. She looked up to see Grenda retreating toward the door.

  “What about the boots?” she called dryly. She was not surprised when there was no answer.

  Grenda felt a little better. She had gotten the information so quickly she had time to stop by the inn for a medicinal pint of ale before taking the news to Bloduewedd. Back at the estate, she found her employer in her office, where she was yelling at Beteria about something in one of the big ledgers used to record the tributes paid by the many Reliants.

  That sniveling Beteria had just taken over the job of recording the entries, along with the household expenses. Grenda could have told her this would be a thankless job, but if the girl wanted to keep making herself the Ra-drine’s most convenient target, it was just fine with her. She knew there wasn’t much chance the girl could meet her mother’s impossible expectations, and she enjoyed watching her squirm. Bloduewedd didn’t have a lot of affection to go around, and Grenda didn’t much like Beteria, who was her only real rival.

  As usual, Beteria looked like she was on the verge of tears as Bloduewedd hollered about the lateness of several payments, as if the girl could do anything about it—she never left the compound and was usually dismissed when the Reliants were around. When Grenda entered, the Ra-drine broke off her tirade and, to Grenda’s delight, completely ignored the devastated girl, who took one of the offending ledgers and retreated to a small desk in the corner.

  “Well? What did you find out?” she snapped. Grenda, feeling much better after her drink, ignored the irritated tone.

  “It is as ye thought, Ra-drine. The girl, Letta, has gone to work for Delinda out at the estate. They must be replanting the fields and were picking up the supplies they needed.” Grenda was proud of figuring this out and was pleased by the sharp look that told her Bloduewedd had come to the same conclusion.

  “I do not like this at all,” said the Ra-drine. “Something is going on out there. Morenna’s daughter…” She paced nervously. “You know Morenna tried to prevent me from becoming Rahntadrine.” Bloduewedd didn’t mention she had overthrown Morenna in order to get the title, and Grenda knew better than to point it out. “Delinda probably believes her mother was ill-used. But Morenna was plotting to destroy the Eye, you know, and I could not allow that to happen.”

  “Of course not,” said Grenda. She had heard this story many times before, as had all the women who were either Bloduewedd’s employees or Reliants. “Ye had no choice,” she added, showing off a little in front of Beteria, who was probably listening even though she pretended to work. Sneaky little bitch.

  “None whatsoever,” agreed Bloduewedd. “I doubt the daughter would have the temerity to openly oppose me but I do not like the idea of her reopening the place where her mother sat as Rahntadrine.”

  As well as her grandmother, and all the women in her family going back generations, thought Grenda, although she was not so stupid as to say this aloud. “No, it ain’t a good thing,” she said, matching Bloduewedd’s tone. She saw Beteria shift uncomfortably. Grenda hoped the young woman noticed how well she got along with her mother, how easy they were together. Something the spineless girl would never have.

  “I want you to find out what she is up to,” said Bloduewedd. “Find someone to spy. If she has hired one young woman, she may be looking for others.”

  Grenda wished she had thought of this herself. “I’ll start thinking about which of my women to send.”

  Bloduewedd shook her head. “Do not be stupid, Grenda,” said the Ra-drine. Grenda thought she saw a small smile curve Beteria’s lips. “The outlander would recognize them, or Letta would. It has to be someone they would not know.”

  “I’ll go,” said Beteria.

  “You?” asked Bloduewedd, surprised. “The outlander has seen you, too.”

  “Only for a moment and then only in darkness,” she said. “When I came to your room after he had, er, after you had tripped, Grenda had his face pressed against the floor. I do not think he would recognize me.”

  “What about Letta?” asked Bloduewedd, to Grenda’s surprise. It sounded like the Ra-drine was actually considering Beteria’s idea.

  Beteria shook her head. “I do not recall ever meeting anyone by that name. As you well know, I have not been inside the village in several years, not since before you moved all the meetings of the sector’s business here. Before that I was just a child and even so, seldom had a reason to go there.”

  Grenda felt a growing alarm. “Begging your pardon, Ra-drine, but I don’t like the idea.”

  “And why not?” Bloduewedd turned to Grenda inquisitively. Grenda suspected the Ra-drine knew about the jealously between her daughter and her captain of the guard, and sometimes played one against the other for her own amusement.

  Grenda fumbled for an answer. “Someone ye haven’t thought of might recognize her,” she said. “One of the Reliants might have some reason to go out there or Delinda might send Beteria to town on some errand.”

  “I can make some excuse not to go to t
own,” said Beteria. “At least for a few weeks, which is all it should take for me to find out what is going on. And Mother can always warn the Reliants to stay away, or even let them know why I am there and warn them to show no sign of recognition.”

  “Of course I intend to tell the Reliants not to do business with her,” said Bloduewedd. She looked at her daughter speculatively. “I did not expect this kind of initiative from you, Beteria. If I agree, I hope you will not disappoint me.”

  “I will not, Mother,” said Beteria, and Grenda was sure she could hear triumph in the girl’s voice.

  Grenda tried desperately to think of something that would slow this conversation down. To her horror, Beteria seemed to take her mother’s last comment as assent, for she asked, “How soon shall I leave?”

  “Tomorrow,” said Bloduewedd. At Grenda’s snort, she said, “Do you have a problem with that, Grenda?”

  “No, me Ra-drine,” said Grenda hastily. “I was just wondering what Beteria would say when she got to the door so Delinda would not be suspicious.”

  You think you can prevent this from happening, but you are wrong. Beteria hadn’t thought out all the details, but refused to show her lack of confidence in front of Grenda.

  “I will say I heard in town that Letta had been given a job and I was hoping there would be more. I will say…I will say I have too many older sisters and I will not be getting a share of my family farm and I would rather work where I can earn wages.” This last was a little too close to the truth— Beteria may have no sisters, but received nothing for her long hours of labor, not even the gratitude she craved.

  Luckily the irony in Beteria’s proposed story was lost on Bloduewedd, who nodded approvingly. “Yes, that should suffice. You can say you are from one of the farms near the northern borders—they have all been settled since Morenna’s departure and Delinda should know nothing of them. Grenda, find her a horse. Even the youngest daughter of a good-sized farm would have her own horse. Not too fine a one, though.”

  Beteria had a fine mount, which she seldom had time to ride, but she had to reluctantly agree it was too expensive a horse for the youngest daughter of a modest farming family. From the look on Grenda’s face, she needn’t worry about being provided with anything too grand. She would be surprised if the nag she ended up with made it all the way to the farm.