Brandywyn had just pulled her best loaf of bread out of the oven when she heard noises outside the open cottage door. She turned and saw two urchins. One, a dirty young girl of perhaps eight, and the other a young boy, perhaps four years old. The boy had his dirty thumb in his mouth and was holding his sister’s hand like a lifeline.
“How now?” Brandywyn asked. “Who are you?”
“I am Pansy and this is Brake. May we have a bite of bread?”
“Aye. Come in. Where are your parents? In the village?”
The girl shook her head, cautiously moving into the cottage as though Brandywyn would bite her. “We have no parents. The villagers give us a crust and a bone when they can, but it is not a rich village and they have little to spare.”
Orphans! Brandywyn’s heart swelled. The poor babies. “Here,” she gestured. “Come sit by the hearth and warm yourselves. I have bread and butter aplenty. You may eat your fill.”
“Thank you, mistress,” said Pansy, taking a slab of bread and butter. She looked at it for a moment, then passed it to her brother, who gobbled it up as quickly as his tiny bites would allow. Pansy smiled gratefully at the second slab of bread and butter that was to be hers.
The children ate as if it was their last meal, and Brandywyn asked them questions as they stuffed their little faces.
“How long have you been orphaned?”
Pansy spoke around a mouthful of bread. “A year, mayhap? We have seen the full seasons since our papa and mama succumbed to a fever.”
“I am sorry for your loss. No one in the village took you in?”
“They tried, mistress. We were… unhappy, and did not see our bounty. Now we wish we had.”
Brake spoke up, licking his fingers. “May I have more? Have you any honey?”
“Brake!” his sister scolded. “Do not ask for more than what is given, and be grateful for that.”
He looked chagrinned, his eyes filling with tears. “I am sorry, Pansy.”
She patted him on the back. “Do not cry, Brake.”
Brandywyn added, “I do have honey and you are welcome to some.” She got it from a shelf. “Here, my dear.”
Brake brightened immediately and welcomed the sweet syrup Brandywyn spooned onto his bread. She offered some to Pansy, who took it gratefully and gave her thanks.
They were good children and deserved more than a poor orphan’s existence.
* * *
Tom sold much of his catch for that day to the villagers, but kept back some fat trout for his supper with Brandywyn. She was learning to cook them in butter and make a succulent feast of even such lowly fare. Tom was very proud of her development, but he had decided to test the change in her, for it had been dramatic. He hoped it wasn’t short-lived, but he had to be sure. He formulated a plan to lead some orphans from the village to the cottage and see if they were accepted there. The episode with the baby bird gave him hope, but this test would prove the truth once and for all.
The orphans he had chosen had been on their own for a year, but the villagers saw to their care. They moved from one family to another, while the village elders made a careful search for a permanent home for them. Tom had heard that such a family might be found somewhat distant from the village, on a small farm. The couple there had lost their children to a pox and were a loving and generous pair. They were saddened by their loss and eager to regain the family they missed. The orphans did not know of this potential new home—it would have been cruel to give them hope, in case it did not work out—but they were perfect for Tom’s test and they would be rewarded for their help in his plan.
Tom stood at the cottage window and peered in as the drama unfolded. Brandywyn took the children in, fed them, talked to them in a kind and gentle voice. She washed their hands and faces and would have attempted to mend their torn garments, but Tom felt it was time to make himself known.
“Good den! We have guests.”
Brandywyn was quick to stand and rush to him. Her sweet kiss on his cheek brought back memories of other stolen kisses, but he did not press her for more. “Tom! Please do not be angry with me. These children are Pansy and Brake; they are orphans from the village. They have wandered far away, looking for a crust and a home.”
“I am not wroth with you, Brandywyn.” He turned to the children with a smile and a stealthy wink. “Welcome, Pansy and Brake. Mistress Brandywyn has seen to your comforts?”
“Aye!” they said in unison.
“The hour grows late, and this fish will not keep forever. Brandywyn, please cook supper, and I shall entertain the children. I can tell them a faery tale.”
Brandywyn smiled her sweet smile, delight written in the twinkle of her eyes. “Aye, Tom. Oh, and I milked the cow this morning. We have fresh milk.”
“Excellent! Now, children, let us move to the corner where we shall be removed from Mistress Brandywyn’s path. I promise a sumptuous feast is in store.”
Tom watched Brandywyn as he told his story to the children. She smiled often as she worked and hummed a light melody. Her hands, soft and delicate, were growing more and more effective when cleaning and preparing the animals he brought home. She had learned to cook both in a pot and in a skillet, and her bread was better every day. The fact that she’d learned to milk the cow effectively was a joy to his ears.
Things were right between them. It was time to make his proposal.
* * *
The next day, Brandywyn washed the children and fed them. She was playing at being a mama, and she knew the falsehood that was, for these were not her children. Her attitude about children had changed over the past weeks. Whereas, in the palace, she had been adamant about never giving her love to one who could die and break her heart, she now saw the beauty in expanding oneself into the life of another, making them happy and gaining happiness in return. Giving was more important than receiving for her now, and Brandywyn saw how selfish she had become upon her mother’s death. Her father would dearly love to spoil grandchildren, and she would dearly love to care for them, to see their shining faces and teach them of all the goodness in the world. She had nearly forgotten that she was a princess, but upon taking in the children, she realized that she had much to give to the unfortunate in this world. Much that she had greedily held only for herself in the past. She vowed to be greedy no more.
Tom came in from milking the cow and sat down to break his fast. Brandywyn ventured to speak her thoughts, as the children played with household items imagined as toys. “Tom…”
“Aye, sweeting?”
“I was wondering… Since the children are orphans, and we have so much bounty to share, can we not take them in and care for them?”
He smiled, and shook his head in disbelief. “What has happened to the young termagant who made demands and lost her temper? Have you forgotten your claim to be the princess of Ring?”
“No, Tom, for I am the princess, but I will not demand your agreement, I ask it. I would like to care for these children and give them a happy home.”
“I am familiar with these children,” he explained, “and I am aware of something you are not—that they are not.” He lowered his voice so that he would not be overheard. “The town elders have come very close to finding them a permanent home outside the village. The arrangement needs only final agreement among the elders, but it is widely speculated that it will go forward. They will indeed have a happy and loving home.”
Part of Brandywyn was exceedingly happy and another part sad. She wanted the children to be cared for and supported, but she also selfishly wanted their caregivers to be her and Tom. With great effort, she tamped down her selfish impulses and focused on the children’s lucky bounty.
“I am pleased for them, Tom. Truly.”
He touched her hand across the table. “You have also forgotten that you and I are not wed, Brandywyn. It is scandalous for the two of us to be here unchaperoned, though we have done so for weeks.”
“But Tom, I remain a virgin! You have done nothin
g I did not encourage.”
“True enou’,” he agreed. “But it looks bad, sweeting. Were we not so far from the village, we would be cast out and shunned certes.”
A flare of panic surged through Brandywyn. Would Tom lose his business? Would they fall upon hard times because she was here with him? Mayhap she should move to the village and stay with a family until her father came for her. The thought brought tears to her eyes. How she would miss Tom. But to save his business…
“I—”
He held her hand to his lips. “I have an answer, love. Marry me and all will be well.”
Marriage! How ironic such a match would be. Her father had been trying for several years to entice her to marry a man of nobility and means, and now she was in love with a huntsman and seriously considering his proposal. What would that mean to the kingdom? Tom was an honest and brave man. He was a fine provider, generous and thoughtful. Wisdom sang in his words and his deeds.
Perhaps most important of all, however, was the fact that she needed him. He set her wrongs to right, soothed her tempers, taught her when she needed correction. He settled her in a way no other person had managed since her mother died. Brandywyn knew she was a better person for knowing Tom, and better yet for loving him. She did love him, with all her heart.
“Can you love a poor huntsman as he loves you?” he asked softly.
“Aye, Tom. I do love you. I will marry you.” It was a scary declaration, but incredibly freeing at the same time. The pressure to marry her father’s choice was lifted from her shoulders. There would be hell to pay when King Dent found out, but that was a trouble to be dealt with at another time.
Tom smiled brightly and stood, bringing her up with him. They kissed deeply. Brandywyn tingled all over with longing and pleasure. She wanted to mate with Tom and seal their bargain. Of course, that could not happen while the children were playing in the cottage with them. But soon it might happen. She loved cuddling with him every night, and their one sensual experience after the last spanking had really opened her eyes to delights she had never imagined. They had not done it again—Tom had shown great restraint. Greater than her own, for she would have done it again and again. In her secret heart, she had imagined it. The sensation of him entering her back channel, deeply stroking her, bringing her to her peak in so earthy a fashion, was enough to make her wet and breathy. If Tom noticed, he said nothing. He was a man who controlled his passions well. But soon… aye, very soon…
“When can we marry, my love?” she asked as they broke their kiss. Her breath was fast, her nipples hard with need.
Tom’s eyes were soft with affection. “We must take the children back to the village this afternoon. Let us find the village priest and say our vows then. Would today suit you, or would you rather have a fine dress and a ribbon for your hair?”
The dress sounded very tempting, but ‘twas an expensive idea. “Can you afford a new dress for me, Tom? I would not like to go to my wedding in this stained and torn raiment.”
“Aye, a new suit of clothes would be within our means. I should have done it beforehand, because now we shall have to wait for it to be sewed. We shall get the fabric and the seamstress can begin as her business will allow. The priest can wait for another day.”
Brandywyn did not want to wait longer. She wanted it today! But she could not go to her wedding, the most important day of her life, in tatters. “Can we hurry it?”
“No. The seamstress will need time. She has no magic wand.”
In the palace, there were seamstress’ assistants to help with the work. A dress could be made very quickly. Not to mention the fact that Brandywyn had many beautiful garments in her wardrobe at home. Much more beautiful than a village seamstress could provide. If only Tom would believe that she was a princess. This entire matter could be settled in but a moment.
“I love you, but…”
“I shall have no ‘buts’ between us. I am a huntsman; I do not have the means for finery at your whim. I offered you a simple dress, but now you appear to want more.”
A shiver of fear coursed over her. “No, Tom. I was wrong and selfish.” Indeed, she was deeply chastened. Her vanity had gotten out of hand. She had lost sight of the more important thing, the thing that made her heart happiest: Tom’s love. Brandywyn threw herself into his arms and cried, frightened beyond words that she had gone too far, tried to manipulate him to the point of no return, to the loss of his love for her. “I am sorry,” she sobbed. “My heart is broken, for I fear I have wronged you grievously.”
He stroked her hair gently and whispered against her forehead. “Do you marry me, plain as we are, and all will be forgiven, for then I shall know that you accept this place in the world and have no more pretensions.”
Brandywyn sniffled as her tears abated. “Aye. I shall go naked and mud-spattered, if it would bring your love back to me.”
“My love never left, sweeting. Had it, I would have taken you directly to the village and left you there.”
“I love you with all of my heart. Much more than the palace or my dresses, jewels, and other finery. Please, may we marry this day, as we hoped before?”
“I am glad to know you love me, Brandywyn, for I love you, too.” He held her away a bit and kissed her lips gently. “Now dry your tears and wash your face. We have a wedding to go to.”
Brandywyn gave him a watery smile and reluctantly left his arms. Nothing mattered so much as her feelings for Tom. She had been a fool to endanger that. No dress, no sensual encounter, no banquet or revel was as important as that. If she never went back to the palace, ‘twould still be a good life, here with Tom in the little cottage in the woods.
Chapter Eight
The children rode the horse, while Tom and Brandywyn trudged along beside it, all the way to the village. It took more than an hour and by the time they arrived, Brandywyn was foot weary and hot. Their first stop was to the meeting house, where the village elders had gathered to consider town business. Tom asked them about the orphans’ welfare, and was told that they were to be housed with the farm couple outside of the village. One of the elders, himself, would transport the children to the farm in his wagon. It looked like all would be well with the tykes, and the children’s faces upon learning of their new home spoke volumes of their relief and excitement. Everyone realized that they longed for a home, but no one knew exactly how much.
Brandywyn was happy for them, but bade them a teary goodbye. She hoped she might see them sometime in the future, for they really had found a place in her heart. Still walking the horse, she and Tom left the elders and walked through the village to the small temple where the priest welcomed worshipers. The little man, bald and dressed in long, bright blue robe, as was appropriate for the honor of his god, looked over Brandywyn with a jaundiced eye.
“Are you sure, Tom Huntsman, that this woman is fit to be your wife? She looks more like a vagrant than a bride.”
Brandywyn felt her middle surge with outrage. If he only knew she was a princess! Falling upon the heels of that thought, inwardly she chided herself. Although she did not deserve the priest’s disapprobation, she did look like a vagrant. Her heart knew the truth, however. She was soon to be Tom’s wife—a place of honor, to her mind. But before the tears of emotion could form in her eyes, Tom came to her defense, bristling visibly. “She is more than my match, sir, she is my mate.”
Sighing, the priest gestured them to the altar, where they knelt beneath a statue depicting the god, fire bolts flying from his fingers and a cornucopia of plenty at his feet. Small offerings of incense, candles, and flowers had been left by worshipers and made the place fragrant and beautiful.
Brandywyn had never been to a village temple before, always worshiping in the palace’s vast cathedral. But this god was one of her pantheon, so she was comfortable saying her vows with him watching over.
“Tom Huntsman,” the priest intoned, “what offering do you make to bring favor upon this union?”
Tom withdrew a
small pouch of coins. Brandywyn could hear them clinking as he set it on the altar. “Gold, sir.”
The priest inspected the pouch’s contents and seemed pleased enough. Brandywyn was amazed that Tom had coins so plentiful, and even more astonished that he would offer them to pay for the god’s pleasure. It would have paid for a new dress for her, but he could not pay for both the dress and the wedding. The wedding was far more important. So many coins, though; perhaps his life savings. “But Tom—” she whispered.
He took her hand. “Shh. I know what I do.”
Brandywyn eyed him for a moment, finally turning back to the priest.
“What is your name, girl?”
“I am Brandywyn of… just Brandywyn, sir.”
“Are you orphaned?”
“No, sir,” Tom said, as Brandywyn fumbled for a response. “She had a bad experience and lost her memory for a time. It is coming back.”
“Are you certain she is not already married?”
“I am a virgin,” Brandywyn offered with a blush.
“Ah,” said the priest, satisfied. “In that case, the marriage would be valid.”
Tom squeezed her hand and Brandywyn started to calm.
The priest began chanting, and it took quite a while for him to come to the end of his song. Brandywyn did not understand all that he said, for it was in a commoners’ dialect that she had not been taught, but it sufficed that he did his part and moved on to their vows.
The Princess and the Huntsman Page 9