by Неизвестный
He'd lain awake considering that, after his conversation with Arragh. "What should I do?"
"Does Gwen have any notion you are other than Kall the itinerant trader?"
"No."
She went silent, biting her lower lip as a little crease appeared between her eyes. "You must tell her."
He knew that much! But he held back his irritation. He would never snarl at a female, much less a pregnant one. "How?"he asked, hearing his own uncertainty.
"As soon as seems propitious. Has she...,"she paused, "has she accepted your love?"
He hoped. "When we last parted, I asked if she would wait for my return. That's how humans court, is it not?"
"Sometimes, but often a girl's family chooses her mate, and she has little say in the matter."
Barbaric! He kept that opinion to himself. "Gwen has no family. Only Karil, the innkeeper, an uncle who barely deserves the title. Her father owned the chief inn in Llanbarra. Her mother was an outsider and had no family in the city. They both died in an epidemic two years ago. Her uncle inherited the inn."An injustice that made Kallaayt want to rail at the town rulers who sanctioned such things. "He grudges her shelter. Where she was once a loved daughter, she now toils in the kitchen and sleeps in an attic over the stables."
Myfanwy seemed unsurprised. "In the human world it goes hard with women alone."
He let out a dragon snort to tell her what he thought of that custom. "In direct defiance of the Goddess's will."
"They care little for the Goddess, because she teaches what the men do not care to hear."Myfanwy paused again. "But in the circumstances, that is to your advantage. With no family, and a desperate position, Gwen will be more ready to follow you than a girl with security and a loving family."
He forbore commenting on what Myfanwy's supposedly loving family had planned for her. "She is courageous, and to be so alone is a tragedy. When she comes here with me, she will be surrounded by protectors."
"One will content her, I believe."
He smiled as he caught her meaning. "She is so fine, Myfanwy. As worthy as you to bear a dragon."
"Accustom Gwen to your being more than human, before you mention her fecundity."
"You believe so? Don't humans put great worth on healthy offspring?"
"Yes,"she agreed, "but marrying a husband chosen by one's parents is a little more expected than flying off to Cader Bala with a dragon."
"I see."He did. Only too well. "You fear she may refuse me."
Myfanwy shrugged. "How she will receive the truth, I cannot tell. But, you must tell her. And soon. If she accepts you, mortals pledge a betrothal with a ring."When he stared at her uncomprehending, she went on. "A ring to wear on her finger."
He'd seen such during his forays into Llanbarra. "I will have Granned make one of finest red gold and gems from the mountain heart."
Myfanwy shook her heard. "That would get too much attention, on the hand of a woman who works in a kitchen. Why not have Granned make a fine band of red gold? Few mortals will see it for what it is, and Gwen will know it's a gift from your heart."
"I will, and remember your advice. I cannot wait to bring Gwen back here."
"And we cannot wait to welcome her."
* * *
Ten days later, in mortal form, and pulling a laden handcart, Kallaayt left his brother behind him in the abandoned homestead of Tintawn and set off for Llanbarra.
"Summon me when you need me,"Kallauwn said.
"If I need you."Kallaayt clasped his younger brother to him. "My thanks for your help with the cart and goods. Wait for me here."
"I will never stir."
With an abandoned farmstead, and a profusion of vegetables, chickens, and rabbits run wild, Kallauwn had no reason to wander.
"Leave some young vegetables for Gwen,"requested Kallaayt.
"She will have the finest."
That evening, Kallaayt approached the gates of Llanbarra. Six months ago, the workers were laboring to construct a perimeter fence. Now, it was the height of two men, and wide gates marked the entry from the road. Presumably at night they were sealed to keep out invaders and undesirables. Kallaayt shook his head. Mortals! Judging by the brawls and disturbance he'd witnessed in the streets, there was more risk of harm from the town citizenry than from the woods, flocks, and farmsteads scattered over the fertile plain of Barr.
As he approached the gate, a roughly dressed guard, too young to yet shave, challenged him. "What business do you have in our fair city, peddler?"
"Same business as ever: to sell my wares."Were they going to refuse him entry?
"Get on with you, Hal!"the second sentry said. "We're here to stop bandits and thieves, not honest traders!"He nodded at Kallaayt. "This is Kall, the trader from the west."The sentry gave the lad a not-unkindly nudge. "Stand aside, you, and let him enter, and if you wish to stand in good stead with that Betsy of yours, you'd best visit Kall for one of his trinkets."He nodded to Kall. "Putting up at the Flowing Flagon, are you?"
"As always! I have some fine leather pouches your wife would welcome, Harrad,"Kallaayt replied, remembering the man's name.
Kallaayt pulled his cart through the wide-arched gate and over the hard cobbles and immediately encountered a barrier blocking the street.
"Your business?"a ferret-faced man demanded.
"I am Kall, the trader. I come to sell my wares."Sweet Goddess! How many times was he to answer the same question? At this pace it would be night before he reached the inn.
The man consulted a list and then conferred with another guard standing by. "Seems you are well-known. You many pass."At last! "After payment of the bishop's levy."
"What levy is this?"
The soldier took a step forward. "By order of the bishop, all traders are tithed. What is the value of your goods?"
"Fifty silver pieces."These mortals strove to put a price on everything.
The tax collector nodded. "Assuming a tendency to under-value, I assess your levy as six silver pieces."Extortion, but to protest would delay meeting Gwen. "Refusal to pay results in confiscation of goods."
"No refusal,"Kallaayt replied as he counted out six silver coins, making sure they saw the remaining two he dropped back in. His larger purse remained safe under his belt.
They seemed less than pleased as he handed over the coins. A soldier prodded at the packs and boxes, but lifted the barrier and let him pass.
"What if a poor tinker or peddler cannot pay on entry?"Kallaayt asked.
The soldier grinned. "We accept payment in goods."
Foolishness all around. How many itinerant traders had his access to gold and silver? News of this would spread, and peddlers would bypass Llanbarra for more hospitable towns.
As Kallaayt passed through the narrow streets, he looked around. As always, new wooden buildings grew at the pace of apple trees, but the gutters were filled with refuse and slops. He turned into the stable yard of the Flowing Flagon, and called for Ben, the head hostler. A rough-headed man appeared. "Ben's gone to the Spreading Oak,"he told Kallaayt. "I'm running things here now."
That explained the grass between the paving stones and the sour smell from the stables. If it weren't for seeing Gwen, Kallaayt would have joined Ben at the smaller inn by the southgate. "I need space to store my wares."
The man prodded at the cart and seemed disappointed that the straps and locks held. "Will cost you."
"My arrangement with innkeeper Karil is a share of my take."And a generous portion it was, too.
"That is as may be, but I'm the one as protects your property when you're away."
Kallaayt handed over a fistful of copper coins, promising silver in two days. Goods sold or not, he was leaving as soon as Gwen agreed. Kallaayt checked the locks and straps on his cart, paused by the pump to wash the dust of the road off his face and chest, pulled on a clean shirt, and crossed to the kitchen.
The large heat- and smoke-filled room was abuzz with enough activity to approach disorder. But look as Kallaayt
might from one end to the other, he saw no sign of Gwen.
"Is you here to eat?"a sweaty-faced lad asked. Kallaayt stared. Gwen would throw up her arms when she saw the state of the lad's hands and fingernails. "You'd best get to the buttery then."
Not yet. "I will, lad, but first I'd speak with Gwen."
The lad's eyes went wide, before a nasty smirk curled his wet mouth. "You would, sir? Then it's not the Flowing Flagon you need, but the house of Wide Open Legs."
For a split second Kallaayt understood why mortals hit each other. "I think not,"he replied, his voice sounding tight. "Call her if you will."
The grin was now downright insolent. Kallaayt took a deep breath. He was dragon, this greasy lad would not anger him, but neither would he insult his chosen. "Boy..."
He was interrupted by a red-faced kitchenmaid with smoothed-back dark hair. "Get on with you, Hal!"she snarled at the boy. "Wash your hands and get that bowl of punch to the gentlemen in the front parlor if you don't want to feel a wooden spoon round your rear!"The boy scuttled off and the maid looked at Kallaayt. He remembered her from earlier visits.
"Mari,"Kallaayt began, "where's Gwen? That lout said..."he angled his head in the direction the boy had gone.
"Hal is an ache in the head,"Mari replied. "Look, Kall. Go to the buttery. The new cook hates visitors to his kitchen."New cook? Was Gwen at last given the dignity she deserved? Was the lad's spite at her good fortune? "I'll bring you stew and ale and tell you all that's happened since last you were here."She looked around as if scared she'd be overheard. "Go and take a seat. I'll be there as fast as I can."
Now would not be fast enough. But Kallaayt caught her anxiety and nodded before stepping out and across the hallway.
The buttery was all but empty. Two men looked up from their seats by the empty fireplace. After the briefest of nods acknowledging Kallaayt's "Good day,"they returned to their beef and ale as he took a seat by the open window and frowned over the lad's spiteful words.
No doubt Gwen had censured him--for his dirty hands no doubt--and he bore a spiteful grudge. But at least Gwen had been raised from her position in the kitchen. What had spurred that generosity in her cold-eyed uncle?
"Here you are!"Mari set a tray down on the table, and served a steaming pot of savory stew, with a hunk of dark bread, and a tankard of ale. She'd remembered his preference for raw fruit and set a basket of polished apples and winter pears on the scrubbed table.
"I thank you."He handed her a silver coin that she slipped into her pocket with a smile and profuse thanks. "It's little enough, Mari. Now, tell me where I may find Gwen, and if her uncle will prevent me."
"He'll not stop you,"she replied, "but..."
"Where is she?"The beginnings of apprehension stirred his dragon heart.
Mari frowned. "Sir, Gwen made me swear never to tell you, she was so ashamed, but she also told me you'd pledged to her. And I think that gives me leave to break my promise."
"What did she not want told? Where is she?"
"Hal spoke rightly, sir. She's in the house of Wide Open Legs."
A great icy load heaved in Kallaayt's chest. "How?"It came out as a growl.
Worried eyes met his. "It was not her fault, sir. Truly it was not. It was a great injustice but she had nowhere else to go."
He knew he should not have waited until spring! "What happened?"
Mari took a deep breath, her dark eyes glistening as she remembered. "Just after you left, as the leaves were turning, her uncle announced he'd handfast her to Morgan the Miller."
"She was forced into marriage?"
"No, sir. She refused."
The Goddess bless his Gwen. He knew she'd stand true. "What happened?"
"It was terrible. Karil Joneth shouted at her, beat her, and threatened to turn her out of doors, but she would not consent. It was then she told me, she was handfast to you and would never accept another even if her uncle beat her until she bled."
His growl came from deep within his heart. He had some debts to settle with the innkeeper. "What then?"
"That was the worst of all. One night, in the month of first frost, Morgan the Miller came to her room."
Kallaayt's mind burned and froze at once time. "You know it was him?"
"I was awake, sir, and heard her screams and went running."Her face set hard. "I saw him clear as I see you. I hit him and jumped on him, thinking two of us might have a chance, but he threw me off, and I hit the wall and went senseless. When I came too, it was to find Gwen sobbing over me. She was bloodied and beaten...and raped."
Kallaayt was silent now. Human tongue didn't possess the words to express his anger and he could not roar in this tidy paneled room. "And..."
Mari shook her head. "Morgan went to the new bishop and denounced her as unchaste. By then, she knew she was pregnant. She protested her innocence but they dismissed it as the accusations of the guilty. Karil cast her out. She tried to get hired in other inns, even the cookshop by the river, but no one dared hire her after the public shaming. Madam Lou was the only one in town who'd take her in."
He shuddered. His Gwen, in a brothel! "She works there still?"
"As cook,"Mari replied.
Praise the goddess for small mercies. "I must see her."
Mari nodded. "Finish your dinner first. But don't tarry too long, evenings are busy in that house."
He didn't even finish the stew. The new cook lacked Gwen's touch. Or perhaps misery and worry took his appetite away. Kallaayt swigged down the ale, tore off a couple of mouthfuls of bread, and set off for Madam Lou's house.
Kallaayt paused at the corner and looked down the unpaved street at the front door. It took every fiber of his dragon control not to storm the wide oak door above the three yellow stone steps. But if Madam Lou had offered Gwen a refuge from the streets, she deserved Kallaayt's thanks, not his ire.
When trading with the wenches he'd used the narrow side door. Not today. If Gwen cooked, she'd be in the kitchen. He went around to the back. Savory aromas of cooking wafting from the half-open door reminded Kallaayt he'd dined sparsely. He paused on the step, listening. Gwen's sweet voice admonished someone: "Stir those onions, we want them browned, not blackened."
He peered in. Gwen was rolling pastry at the table, and a young girl, scarcely more than a child, stirred a large pan on the stove.
As the child turned, Kallaayt glimpsed her kitten-faced mouth. Another outcast. She saw Kallaayt and looked away but not before saying, "Mistress Gwen, a caller."
He stepped over the threshold as Gwen turned. His mind barely registered her swollen belly, before she screamed "Kall! No!"and fainted, the rolling pin clattering to the floor.
He swept her up in his arms, and turned to the now-crying girl. "Where can I lay her down?"
As Kallaayt strode toward the far door, the child fled, calling for Madam Lou.
Madam Lou responded in seconds, blocking the doorway, hands on her hips. "And who are you? Entering uninvited and attacking my cook."
"Gwen fainted. She needs a bed and..."He looked at the child. "Fetch her some barley water and cool cloths for her face,"he said and turned to Madam Lou. "Where can I take her?"
She led him to a small parlor with an upholstered divan. Kallaayt carried the still- limp Gwen across the carpeted floor, and gently set her on the pillows. She was pale, her face much thinner than he remembered, and her belly seemed too heavy for her slender legs. Myfanwy thrived on her gestation, Gwen was weakened.
"Can you not do better for her?"he snapped at Madam Lou. "Toiling in a kitchen in this condition."
Madam Lou stepped up to loom over him. "Gwen's woman enough to decide when to rest and when to work. She was perfectly well until you walked in and scared her half to death. Who are you? Explain yourself before I call the constables!"
"I am Kall, the trader, and Gwen is promised to me."
The woman's face didn't soften one trace. "I remember you now."She frowned. "If Gwen is yours, you did a poor job of protecting her."
"The ones who abused her will suffer."
She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Indeed?"
"I swear it, by the Goddess."
That earned him another raised eyebrow.
He scarcely noticed. "Kall?"Gwen's faint voice had all his attention. "Why are you here?"
He smiled down at her dark eyes and hair as golden as ripe corn. "Didn't I promise I would return when the oak trees set new leaves? I'm here. To take you home."
Her eyes flashed with panic, as her hands covered her belly. "I cannot go with you now, Kall. I am ruined."
"You are not!"His growl echoed in the small room. "You are blameless! Sorely wronged! A victim does not carry guilt for her abusers."
"But, like this?"She looked down in panic at her swelling body and shook her head. "I cannot leave if I would."
"I will not see you stay where you were so misused. We leave at dawn, Gwen."
"Hold here!"Madam Lou prodded Kallaayt on the shoulder. "Noble words and fine- sounding deeds, but who's to say you're honest? You'll not carry her off--in her condition--to wander the lanes and byways and birth herself under a hedge."
At last, one human cared for his Gwen. No...two--Mari was worried about her. "Gwen will be safe with me. My kin will welcome her as my chosen mate, and we have skilled birthers to help her when her time comes."
"Will you two stop talking about me as if I weren't here? I decide if I go or stay."
"You gave me your word. Do you rescind it?"Kallaayt asked.
"Yes!"Her eyes were bright with tears and he knew she lied.
"Gwen, hush!"Madam Lou sank down on the divan and took Gwen's hand in hers. "You're in shock. Not the time to make these hasty decisions."Kallaayt gave her an appreciative smile. Wise woman. "You rest up."She patted Gwen's hand. "And I'll have a word with this wandering peddler of yours."Her voice and the look she gave him challenged him to better her opinion.
"I cannot leave and you know that, Madam Lou. Convince Kall."
"I'll talk with him, pet, but as for convincing him of anything other than his wish to take you away..."She patted Gwen on the shoulder. "Stop fretting, you need to rest."