Pigsty Princess

by Nancy S. Brandt

  “I think, given what I have to talk to her about, it might be best if I did it by myself. She and I have some history, and I would be afraid of what she might say to you in an attempt to hurt me.”

  Mariana scowled, and Orlando knew he’d given her the idea he and Emmarine had some kind of romantic history, but at least that was better than what Mariana might learn if she were in this meeting.

  They crossed the street and stopped in front of the restaurant. Orlando didn’t like being here openly, but he couldn’t wait until after dark to come, regardless of the gossip that might start.

  “This is her place?” Mariana asked.

  “Yes, this is the Soldier’s Flagon, Emmarine’s restaurant. She was once married to a rich tobacco farmer. When he died and left her a fortune, she opened the restaurant.”

  “Is the food good?”

  Stunned, he started to speak, but remembered she had no way of knowing that only for Betatlina’s sake would he even think of stepping foot inside.

  “I’m told it is,” he said after a moment.

  She glanced at him. “You’ve never eaten there.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “It’s the kind of place that caters to nobility. I’m actually surprised you haven’t eaten there.”

  “My family rarely eats in restaurants,” she said. “Father doesn’t believe the King should act like…” She stopped, horrified. He marveled that her eyes had changed to a deep yellowish-green color. How could her abilities have been kept a secret from her all this time when this aspect was so clear?

  “The King shouldn’t act like a commoner,” he finished for her. “I’m not insulted by that, Mariana. I know what I am. I am a commoner.”

  “I have always hated that word,” she said, her voice soft. “It sounds disparaging, like it means low or something.”

  “It means a common person. I like to think I am pretty common. Just a man living my life, taking care of my responsibilities, doing my duty. There isn’t anything wrong with that.”

  “I see that now. I will wait for you at home.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I never thought this day would arrive,” Emmarine said, looking up from the pages of inventory she had scattered all over the table in front of her.

  Orlando noticed she ordered her pork and ham from a farm on the other side of the river, and a twinge of bitterness ran through him. She was paying almost twice what he would have charged, but it would take a lot for both of them to change their stances, either on politics or food distribution.

  “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Betatlina,” he said. “You know you’re taking advantage of her situation, right?”

  “I am a businesswoman,” she said, setting her pen back in the fancy pewter holder on the corner of the table. “Taking advantage of situations is what makes me successful. Surely you understand about finding your opportunities when they arise.”

  “You’re playing word games, Em. You know as well as I do she is too old to be doing the work you have for her.”

  “I asked her if she thought she could do it. It’s not my fault if she lied to me.”

  Orlando tsked and shook his head. “You mean to tell me she walked in here, with only one arm, and you asked if she was capable of cleaning your restaurant at night? You have known Mama Betatlina as long as anyone in this town, and you know her situation. She is a proud woman, but you had no excuse for even asking the question.”

  “She needs money. I had a job.” She shrugged. “Seemed like the perfect solution for both of us.”

  He sighed. “You’re a businesswoman, so let’s talk business. What will it take for you to stop working her so hard?”

  “I am not going to pay her for nothing, and she needs the money, she says.”

  “You know she does. Your friend the King took her house away when she couldn’t pay the exorbitant taxes.”

  She raised her hands toward him in a gesture of surrender. “Then I don’t see what I can do.”

  “How about this? I will provide you with ham, as much as you need, and instead of paying me, you give Betatlina the money in exchange for much less work, say, only polishing your silver or something else she can do sitting down.”

  “And who will clean my restaurant?”

  He wanted to tell her to clean her own place, but that wasn’t going to help Mama. “You’ll be saving money on your meat bill, if I’m not mistaken, so you’ll be able to afford to hire someone else to do the cleaning.”

  A calculating look in her eye, Emmarine tilted her head and smirked. There was a time that look would have made him smile and wonder what mischief the two of them would be getting into soon.

  Now, though, he pretended not to notice she was trying to figure out what was in this deal for him. Because she never took other people’s needs or feelings into consideration when making a business decision, she couldn’t understand anyone else doing it.

  “Do we have a deal?” he asked.

  “I suppose I could have someone fold the table linens after they are washed.” Emmarine returned to the papers on her desk. “She could do that in the mornings, so I suppose she could get a better night’s sleep. She has been dragging around here lately, anyway.”

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself, Em.” Orlando took a few steps toward the door.

  “Wait,” she called. Reluctantly, Orlando turned around.

  Emmarine stood and came around the table to stand right in front of him. “I heard you married the Insensitive Progenna.” She ran her hand down one of his arms. “I am sure it wasn’t out of undying love.”

  “Who I do or do not marry is none of your business, Em. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “I was just surprised to find out you are now the son-in-law of the one man you claim to want to destroy. Not the choice I would have expected of a traitor.”

  Orlando sighed. What had happened to the young girl who had spent her days climbing trees with him? He searched Emmarine’s face, but couldn’t find even a shadow of the pretty brunette who had given him his first kiss, among other firsts.

  “Your spies aren’t as good as they used to be,” he said a moment later as he pushed her hand away. “I never said I wanted to destroy anyone. My only concern is the welfare of Valborough and seeing soldiers who fought for this country get a fair deal. Nothing traitorous about that.”

  “Does your new bride know about your extracurricular interests?” The smile on her face reminded him more of a snake than of someone he might have loved once.

  “I need to get home, Em. I will bring three sides of ham here tomorrow. You will keep your end of the bargain.”

  The smile disappeared. “Or what? You’ll tell the King I cheated you? I don’t think so. Not with all I know about you.”

  He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. “Remember, my dear Emmarine, that sword cuts both ways. I’d think twice if I were you before I set out to play games. You’re not as innocent or as loyal to Jonathan as you want everyone to believe, and you know I can prove it.”

  After squeezing his fingers until he saw her flinch, he released her and headed for the door. “I’d better not hear of Betatlina doing any work harder than folding your napkins.”

  The door slammed behind him with a satisfying crack.

  ****

  As he hurried toward home, Orlando berated himself. He’d let Emmarine get to him, and history showed when he let her get under his skin, bad things happened.

  Just as he started down the road toward his house, he heard someone behind him calling his name. Traren and Hamneth ran toward him.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  The men skidded to a halt. “What are you doing?” Traren asked. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Why?” Orlando scowled at his friends. “Last night was my wedding night, in case you’ve forgotten. Where else would I be?”

  Hamneth nodded. “That’s what I told the men, but Traren and Odel said you wouldn’t forge
t about the Eltano Cup. It’s in eight days, you know.”

  “The races.” Orlando rubbed his forehead. “I did forget.”

  The Eltano Cup races were the biggest event of the fall, and they offered a myriad of opportunities for the rebels to attack and rob caravans.

  “The gang is waiting in the tunnels for you.” Traren crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Orlando, his head tilted in annoyance.

  “I can’t go all the way out to the tunnels. I just sent Mariana home with a roast the triplets gave me.”

  “You just came out of Emmarine’s.” Traren jerked his chin toward the restaurant. “Thinking about rekindling an old flame since you obviously aren’t heating anything up with the missus?”

  Orlando scowled. “What’s wrong with you? There’s nothing between me and Em, and there hasn’t been for a long, long time.”

  “What were you doing in the Flagon, then? I thought you swore you’d never step foot in there.”

  Hamneth rubbed his balding head, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’m sure Lando had a good reason. He’s not going to do anything to hurt the Progenna.”

  “She’s not the Progenna anymore, you old fool,” Traren snapped, pushing the shorter man’s shoulder. “She is Orlando’s wife, even if it is in name only. The King won’t take her back into the royal fold now.”

  There were so many things wrong with what his supposed friend said, Orlando didn’t know what to deal with first. With a shake of his head, he said, “When did this turn into an attack on my marriage?”

  “No one’s…” Hamneth began.

  “You brought the wrath of Jonathan down on this village,” Traren said hotly. “His precious daughter walks down the center of town and visits the shops like she’s one of us.”

  “She is…” Hamneth started again.

  “She is my wife, and that makes her one of us,” Orlando said, “although I haven’t seen this wrath you’re talking about. As far as I know, the number of Guards has increased, but none of the townspeople has suffered because of it.”

  “They haven’t suffered because they’re leaving.”

  “What?”

  Traren shook his head. “See? You’ve been so caught up in all the wedding planning and hobnobbing with the King you haven’t even noticed half of the men who fight for our side have moved into the tunnels to get away from the Guards, or they’ve left Talla altogether.” He waved his hand to indicate the village. “At least three of the farms outside of town have been abandoned, leaving the crops to rot in the fields or be taken by the King’s men, once they figure out the owners are gone.”

  Feeling as though his body deflated, Orlando gazed around at the village he loved. Fewer people were walking on the streets, and he didn’t see farmers working in fields that would normally be occupied. Was it possible he’d been too caught up in dealing with Mariana’s problems he hadn’t seen the more pressing ones?

  “What are you going to do about it?” Traren poked his shoulder with an index finger. “This town has come to depend on you, for good or for ill, to make life better here. You’d better think of some way to get these soldiers out of town.”

  He wanted to yell that the soldiers weren’t his responsibility. He hadn’t ordered them to patrol Talla, but he had tweaked the King’s nose by boldly walking into the palace with Jonathan’s youngest daughter and announcing he was going to marry her. If he didn’t control the soldiers directly, hadn’t he known this would happen? Or at least suspected it?

  “What do you want me to do?” he said in resignation after a moment.

  “Show the village you still control the rebels and you are still on their side.” Traren smirked over his victory, and Orlando knew there was more to this demand than reassurance for the villagers.

  Traren wanted to lead the rebels himself. This had never been a secret, but for the time being, he’d been willing to take a lesser role in the band. Orlando’s leadership had secured enough goodwill among the people and enough victories to show he was smart and capable. Traren was willing to follow his orders as long as the goodwill and victories continued, but Orlando knew the instant that was no longer the case, he’d be as much Traren’s enemy as the King was his.

  “You need to speak to the gang as their leader,” Hamneth offered, his face as easy to read as the sign over Emmarine’s front door. The medic was clearly sorry it had all come to this, but Traren’s points were good ones and others in the rebel band agreed.

  “Fine,” Orlando said after a moment of consideration. “I can’t go to the tunnels right away, but you’re right. We need to plan our strategy for the races. It’s not too late, as most of the nobles from other parts of Valborough haven’t arrived yet. There still should be plenty of caravans to donate to our coffers.”

  Hamneth sighed in clear relief, but Traren’s expression of smug satisfaction never changed.

  “Tell the most trustworthy of our men to meet me in my barn. We’ll make our plans there, and you can fill in the others.” Orlando clapped Hamneth on his shoulder. “We have eight days until the opening race. I think we should be able to collect enough gold to get some of our brothers home before then.”

  “Of course, Orlando.” Hamneth ran off in the direction of the abandoned copper mine, but Traren stayed where he was.

  “Something else?” Orlando asked.

  “So, you and the Progenna? You haven’t bonded with her, then?”

  “I’m not clear as to why that’s your business.” Now Orlando folded his arms over his chest. He would stand his ground against his friend if he had to.

  Traren laughed. “She would know what she is if you had, and I highly doubt the pretty Progenna would be content to sit at home and wait for her big, strong husband if she knew. Actually, if she did know, maybe our problems would be all over.”

  “What are you talking about?” Orlando’s guts began to tie themselves in a knot as he understood where Traren’s thoughts were headed.

  “Why, from what Hamneth said the other day, a Chaos Sensitive would be the strongest in the kingdom, without a doubt. This is why the King kept her abilities from her. If she finds out what she is, she could challenge Old Jon and force him to hand the throne to her.” Traren tapped his chin with his forefinger as though thinking. “Isn’t that what we’ve been fighting for all along?”

  He didn’t wait for Orlando to respond, but walked casually in the same direction Hamneth had gone.

  ****

  Mariana heard the pigs begin squealing outside the kitchen window, and she hurried to see if Orlando had returned. She hadn’t seen him since he went into that restaurant. He’d been gone all day, and the sun was starting to set.

  When she left the house, she saw Rianaer feeding the animals with Orlando nowhere to be seen. Adindira approached, followed by her two younger sons.

  “Good evening, Mariana. I brought you some of the bread Betatlina and I made. I figured you probably didn’t know how to make any. You’ll have to come to the house one day and let me teach you.”

  “Thank you.” Mariana took the still-warm loaf that was wrapped in a blue cloth. “Have you seen Orlando? He didn’t tell me what to do about the roast.”

  “You haven’t started cooking supper yet?” Adindira spoke to the two boys. “Mirit, help Rianaer get the trough cleaned out and wash down the butcher table. Uncle Lando will be killing some of the pigs next week to smoke. Airis, run back to the house and bring me two jars of beans and one of peaches.”

  Without arguing, the boys hurried to do as their mother had requested. She brushed past Mariana and went into the house. Mariana followed, feeling swept up in the woman’s wake.

  “Where is this roast?” Adindira washed her hands while Mariana took the meat, still wrapped in butcher paper out of the cool compartment under the floor. “At least you knew enough to put it away.”

  Adindira snatched it from her and unwrapped it. “This is a good cut, but it should already be in the oven if you want to eat it tonig
ht.”

  Quickly she pulled a heavy pot out from a cabinet near the fireplace, set the meat inside, then opened a few cupboard doors, searching for something. “Did he get any kind of seasoning for it? I know Lando wouldn’t have purchased this big a cut of meat without some plan for cooking it.”

  “He didn’t buy it. Those triplets?” Mariana shrugged. “They gave it to him for some reason.”

  Adindira sighed. “I have the proper spices at my house. I’ll be back soon.”

  She left Mariana alone, the beef roast sitting in a pot on the table. Mariana put the lid on the pot and sat back at the table. There had to be something she could do.

  Where was Orlando? She knew he’d gone into the barn. Maybe something had happened to him. Should she check on him?

  The idea of going out where the animals were frightened her. Not knowing anything about farming, she had no idea what was in the barn. More animals? Cows? Would Orlando keep those things?

  She wandered around the kitchen for a few moments, looking for something to do, but Orlando kept his home neat and tidy. Of course, he didn’t own much, after all.

  Adindira would be back soon, but she couldn’t spend the rest of her life waiting for someone to make time to talk to her.

  This was her farm, too, and while there might not be servants to manage, she should be familiar with the property, at least. Her situation was unusual, but she was a Progenna. She had been trained to be in charge of a household. It was time she made herself useful around here.

  Draping a light cloak over her shoulders, she stepped outside.

  To the left, around the corner of the house, were the pigs in their pen that took up the entire back of the house and part of the side. To the right was the road that led into town. Directly in front, across the yard, was the barn, which was larger than the house.