The Song of the Thrush

by Christine Pope

  Cowardly? Perhaps. And yet I thought I could understand something of why he had behaved in such a way. When I awoke, I lay in bed for a long while, staring at the ceiling and attempting to determine what I should say to him when he came home. Possibly the wisest course of action was to say nothing at all. I had been ready, when suddenly he was not — it seemed that we would always be at cross-purposes.

  No, not always. I had to remind myself that I had shared this cottage with him for only a week now. While some might say that was ample time for us to work through our differences, I knew better. He had been patient with me, and so I needed to do him the courtesy of showing him that same patience.

  If only I could understand what he had meant when he said he had sworn something to himself. Had he made a vow not to touch me until he knew I was ready? Perhaps, but one would have thought I had given him ample indication last night that I was.

  Apparently not.

  Lynnis had informed me that I would be required to help with the clean-up this morning — only not at a very early hour, since it was expected that most people would sleep late after their indulgences of the night before. All the same, I did not tarry too long while I washed my face and got dressed, nor did I spend much time over breakfast. My appetite was not what it might have been, and so I had only a slice of toast and an apple before heading out to see where I was needed.

  The vats of crushed grapes had disappeared. Corin had mentioned once or twice that Lord Sorthannic’s castle possessed vast cellars, and I assumed that was where the crush had been taken to be stored. Likewise, the canopies that had protected the precious grapes were also gone. However, all the tables and benches remained, as well as the platters and wine cups. The leftover food — if there had been any — must have been packaged up the night before by those who remained on the scene until the very end.

  Lynnis approached me, yawning and scratching at the back of her neck. Her entire person seemed rather bleary, and I wondered how late she had stayed up the night before.

  “You seem brighter-eyed than most of us this morning,” she remarked, and I lifted my shoulders.

  “Ah, well, we did not stay quite as late as some of you.” I went over to one of the erstwhile food tables and began stacking empty platters and plates and cups.

  “True.” She came up beside me and began to help with gathering up the discarded serving ware. As she leaned forward, I spied a bright red mark on the side of her neck.

  Evidence that she and Hal had not gone directly to sleep once they got home?

  The thought made me blush, and I averted my eyes, pretending to be intent on the task in front of me. Once I had cleared the table, however, I said, “I thought with the harvest done, the men would not have to be up and about so early.”

  She straightened and sent me a quizzical glance, as though attempting to determine if there was any subtext to my comment. Apparently she found none, for she replied, “The grape harvest is over, but the wheat fields are vast, and help is needed there as well. They will work on those for the next few days, and then yes, once that crop is gathered in, they will not have to be up and about quite as early.”

  I supposed I should have thought of that. Yes, Corin’s experience made him particularly invaluable in the grape harvest, but he possessed a strong back and quick hands, so it was only natural that he would be expected to lend his assistance to the gathering of another crop. “Oh, of course. I should have thought of that.”

  “Are you missing him?”

  I saw nothing but honest curiosity in her expression. Well, on this point, I could be truthful enough. Corin certainly knew how I felt about the long hours he had been working. “Yes, I suppose so. It is difficult to start out one’s life with one’s partner so absent. I know he is only doing this to make sure we have a secure future, but at the same time, I am looking forward to winter, when he will not have as much to do.”

  She chuckled. “I believe that is the first time I have ever heard anyone say they looked forward to wintertime, although I can see why you would feel that way. But perhaps you will feel differently when you have both been cooped up in your cottage for days because the snow is piled up all around, and it is not safe even to go out to hunt.”

  “I thought the winters were milder here?”

  “Milder than what?” Lynnis shrugged, then went on without waiting for an answer. “I suppose north of here it can be much worse, but we still have more than our fair share of snow. But the hunting can be good, even in the winter.”

  “And Lord Sorthannic does not forbid it on his lands?” My father had always been lax about such things, but I had heard of other lords who would banish those who dared to hunt on land that belonged to the nobility.

  “Oh, no.” She picked up a stack of platters and moved them to a cart one of the other women had set off to the side, so that they could all be wheeled away and washed once the tables had been cleared. “I know that is not the custom, but his Grace cares little for custom — I suppose because he was not raised to it. So everyone is free to hunt rabbits and deer and ducks and grouse, or to fish in the streams that cross his lands, although sometimes they do freeze over. Why, he even has a great hunt at midwinter where he invites all the men on the estate to attend. They go on foot, rather than on horseback, for of course the workers don’t have their own mounts. Hal has come back from those hunts with enough game to last us for weeks, so of course it is very much appreciated.”

  I was silent for a moment, considering her words. Truly it did seem that Lord Sorthannic was a gracious and noble lord to his tenants, and once again I inwardly chastised myself for treating him so ill. Not that I did not care for Corin — of course I did — but I could not help but think how different my life would be if I had accepted the duke’s suit, rather than mocking his appearance.

  “You are very quiet,” Lynnis observed as she planted her hands on her hips and sent me a searching glance. “What occupies your mind?”

  “Oh, nothing, really.” I tilted my head at her. “Does Lord Sorthannic ever come here to our little settlement? It is true that he seems to be a most generous lord, but he also seems rather, well, detached from everything.”

  For a moment, she said nothing. Indeed, for almost the first time since I had met her, she seemed somewhat ill at ease. Then she lifted her chin and gave a forced little chuckle. “Oh, he comes by from time to time, but generally not at this time of year, for he is very busy with the harvest. Our work with the grapes is done, but he likes to personally oversee the transfer of the crush to the barrels, and so forth. He does always visit in the spring, so he can inspect the cottages for himself and make sure that any necessary repairs are carried out.”

  This seemed to make sense, so I was not sure why she should appear so uneasy before she made her reply. Perhaps she had thought I was criticizing the duke for being so absent. On the contrary; my life had been made so much easier by not having to worry about avoiding him. It could be that I was entirely puffing up my own importance, and he would not even recall who I was if our paths did happen to cross, but I did not want to put that particular hypothesis to the test.

  And really, it would not be so strange if he did not recognize me, dressed plainly as I was, with my hair braided out of the way most days, my hands already beginning to turn rough from all the daily chores I must manage. The only time Lord Sorthannic had ever seen me, I had been wearing a sumptuous silk gown, and my hair had fallen in perfectly formed ringlets over my shoulders, thanks to hours of work by Sendra as I sat in front of the hearth and she repeatedly placed the curling iron in the fire to heat it back up again.

  Thinking of all that pampering, and of the smoothness of silk against my skin, I could not help but let out a small sigh.

  “Are you quite all right, Marenna?” Lynnis asked, and now I thought I saw true concern in her hazel eyes.

  “Oh, yes. I suppose I am just tired. Although I did not stay awake particularly late, still it was a rather strenuous afternoon an
d evening. But today promises to be rather a quiet day, so I see no reason why I should not recover quickly.”

  She nodded, although I noticed she still looked rather troubled. I thought it entirely possible that she had hoped Corin and I would finally become close, after such a romantic evening of dancing and wine drinking. However, since I had said I did not stay up late, she probably guessed at the truth, and realized that nothing in the current state of affairs had changed very much.

  After that, though, it was time to take all the dirty plates over to Anisa’s house, for she possessed the largest kitchen. With so many hands pitching in, we made short work of the task. Not that we were done, of course. Now that the tables and been cleared and the dishes washed and dispersed to the various households whence they had come, it was time to wash all the cloths that had covered the tables, and to pick up whatever litter might remain in the area. We did not move the tables themselves, as the men would do that once they returned after their day’s work.

  And I still had to do my own laundering, and a dinner to make. By the time dusk began to steal over the landscape, I was feeling wearier than I thought I ever had before. The work slipped by so much more easily when it was shared with another, but Lynnis had her own domestic tasks to attend to, and I did not feel comfortable begging once more for her help. After all, I had been here for more than a week. While I could not say I was a master of any of the innumerable chores required to keep our household running smoothly, I had acquired enough skills to ensure that I probably wouldn’t botch anything too badly, even when left to my own devices.

  Corin returned just as I was pulling the chicken pie I had made out of the oven. No more grape stains, but he was still dusty and dirty, and also appeared more wearied by his day’s labors than he had been when he was working with the vines.

  Well, it is not that much of a mystery, I told myself as I greeted him and told him dinner would be on the table soon. For he also danced and drank last night, and yet had to go out in the fields. Also, this is not work that he loves. He is only doing it because he must. It is always more tiring to do something you have no passion for.

  Even so, he summoned a smile for me as he sat down at the dinner table, and sniffed appreciatively at the pie while I cut him a large slice and put it on his plate. I had not set out any wine, and I noticed that he did not ask for it. Possibly he had realized we were consuming it too quickly…or he had decided that he’d had enough the night before. I was somewhat relieved, for drinking too much wine had led me to lose my control, and I did not want a repeat of that experience.

  Or possibly it was not the losing control that bothered me, but the memory of the way I had been rebuffed by my own husband.

  We ate in silence for a moment; I could tell he did not wish to talk. Just as well, for I was having a difficult time deciding what I should say to him. The awkwardness of our first few days together had come rushing back, and I did not know what to do about it. Before Corin, my only interactions with men had involved the empty pleasantries exchanged while seated at the banquet table, or on the dance floor. I was not yet comfortable with speaking the truth of my heart.

  At last he said, “I saw that everything from our little gala last night has already been cleaned up.”

  A nice neutral topic. “Yes,” I replied. “For of course everyone needed to reclaim their dishes, and Lorissa’s leg — the one with rheumatism in her knee — was paining her, which she swears means rain is coming. I am not entirely certain of that, for the weather has been very fine, but….”

  “Lorissa’s knee is as good a prediction as anything else,” Corin said. “The men say she is right almost three-quarters of the time, which seems like a good reason for making sure all the tables and so forth have been put away.”

  Perhaps she would be proved correct. I reflected that it was a good thing the harvest had gone off so well, and so quickly. I did not know much about farming, but I did know that rain was not a good thing when crops were being gathered in. The wet could make them rot in the granaries, and that was the last thing any of us needed, although I supposed Lord Sorthannic was rich enough to purchase enough grain to get the estate through the winter, should it come to that.

  Usually I enjoyed rain, the sound of it pattering against the windows of my father’s castle, the rich smells of wet earth and stone and grass. Now, though, I could only think of it as the first sign that these warm early autumn days would be over before we knew it, and we would soon move on to the darkness of winter.

  “Well, if Lorissa’s knee turns out to be correct, then we will all feel that much happier about getting everything cleaned up so quickly,” I remarked, my tone light. Already enough tension existed between Corin and myself, and I did not want my worry about winter coming to reveal itself in my voice or my expression.

  He nodded and toyed with his fork for a moment, playing with a bit of pie crust. Normally, he was not given to those sorts of nervous gestures, and I wondered what might be preying on his mind. Had Master Brinsell told him he would not be staying on as the under-overseer after all?

  My stomach lurched, and I reached for my cup so I might drink some water. That helped to calm it somewhat, but my nerves still felt edgy and raw, like harp strings for the wind to play on.

  Corin set down his fork. “Master Brinsell had some news for me today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. He said that he would like to have me continue my duties as under-overseer.”

  The rush of relief that went over me was so intense, I felt drained afterward. Thank the gods. So all my worrying had been for naught.

  However, the next word Corin uttered brought all my worries rushing back. “But….”

  “But what?”

  He pushed a loose lock of hair behind one ear, and although he looked across the table at me, I had the impression that his gaze was fixed on something else…all because he could not meet my eyes. “He said that I will not have a great deal to do over the next few months, but that perhaps you could help.”

  “I?” I repeated, not sure what he was driving at. “How on earth can I help with making wine?”

  “You misunderstand me. It is not that you would be helping me, but rather if you took on some additional duties, then you could be seen as contributing enough that our staying here in this cottage would be justified.”

  I did not bother to keep the suspicion out of my voice. “What kind of duties are we talking about?”

  “One of the kitchen maids in the castle has just borne her first child, and so she can no longer perform her work. Master Brinsell suggested that you go to the castle’s kitchen and take over her duties. That way, the steward will not have to hire anyone else, and you will make it so we are not staying here on sufferance.”

  A kitchen maid. In the very castle of the man who had asked me to be his wife. Surely this could not be happening! No, I was having a nightmare, one of those terrible dreams where you see yourself dancing at a ball while clad only in your underthings, or you wake up miles from home with no good idea of how you got there.

  “You cannot be asking this of me, Corin,” I said in barely more than a whisper. “I cannot do such a thing.”

  He stared at me in some consternation, clearly confused as to why I should be so adamantly opposed to the notion. “Why on earth not? Very well, I suppose I can see why you would think such a post would be beneath someone of your station. But you have done much the same work here, with nary a complaint. Indeed, I have been most impressed by how quickly you have adapted.”

  “That is different,” I protested. “You are my husband. Of course it is my duty to do these things for you, because you are my husband, and this is my home. But to go be a servant in the duke’s castle — I do not think I can bear the idea!”

  His dark eyes glinted, and I realized he was beginning to be angry. Still, his voice was even enough as he said, “Marenna, it is honest work. Master Lewyn, the steward, is a good man, and Brynna, the cook — who rules the
kitchens — is not the sort of woman who would allow anything bad to happen to you while you work there.”

  “But….” My voice was a piteous whisper, and I swallowed, then told myself to not be a coward. “But it is beneath me, Corin.”

  At once I knew I had said the wrong thing, for his eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. “Spoken like the spoiled daughter of a baron that you are. Let me tell you, Marenna, that it would be a great deal more beneath you to be turned out of this cottage, to walk the high road in the wintertime with no prospect of permanent shelter.”

  Although I knew he was correct on some level, I could not allow myself to be spoken to in such a way. I pushed myself up out of my chair and said, “I will not do it.”

  “Oh, yes, you will.” He stood as well, and I realized how tall and strong and somehow foreboding he was, how, if he wished to, he could make me do anything he wanted.

  And how he had not. He had shown forbearance, and patience, when he could have forced me, whether or not I was ready. No, I did not like being called spoiled, but I also could not completely deny that epithet, either. I hated the very idea of having to work in the castle’s kitchen, but if my own stubbornness and pride allowed us to lose this comfortable little home we had made together, I knew I would never forgive myself.

  “I will not — I will not have to serve any of the food, will I?” Somehow I thought I might be able to bear it if I knew I could hide in the kitchen the entire time, with no chance of the duke or anyone who came to visit him ever seeing me.

  “No, of course not. Lord Sorthannic has footmen who wait on him, and serve at his dinner parties, just as you must have had in your own household. Or had you forgotten that minor point of etiquette?”

  In my terror, I truly had. I had already conjured up gruesome images of being sent out to the duke’s dining room, platter of food in hand, and being forced to set it down directly in front of him. His eyes would meet mine, and recognition would dawn…and then he would begin to laugh, and point, and tell everyone present that I had once been the Baron of Silverhold’s daughter, now brought low by my foolish tongue and overweening pride.