Susanna blushed at her ignorance, and stammered. “I must have them,” she said weakly. She looked nervously to Lara.
“And the mercer will be more than fair, stepmother, will you not, sir?” Lara quickly put in.
“If I am fair then the wife of the new Crusader Knight will patronize my shop again,” the old man responded. “Your husband will need many fine garments, as will you and your little son.”
“You know I have a lad?” Susanna looked surprised.
“Everything that can be known about John Swiftsword is known in the City, lady. We have been waiting for this day.” He measured out the length of brocade she would need, and quickly cut it. Then he did the same for the pale blue silk, and the medium blue velvet. Wrapping the materials together in a piece of clean rough cloth he tied the packet shut with a bright piece of yarn, and handed it to her. “If the lady will wait I will write her a receipt,” the mercer told Susanna. “A second receipt, signed with your mark, will be sent to Avram the goldsmith. The amount will be deducted from the credit your husband has with Avram.”
Susanna was half in shock with the transaction. She had never bought anything in a shop like this in all her life. She looked helplessly to Lara.
“It is stuffy in here, stepmother,” the girl said. “Go outside and take the air. I will sign the mercer’s receipt, and learn where we may find feathers for Da’s cap.”
“Yes, I think I will go outside,” Susanna replied. “Thank you, stepdaughter.” Taking up her package, she departed the little shop.
Slowly the ancient mercer wrote out the two receipts. He pushed one forward, and handed the young girl the slender charcoal writing stick. It was almost entirely worn away, but Lara was still able to sign her name to the little parchment. Lara, daughter of John Swiftsword of the Quarter, she wrote in her best hand.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, taking up her receipt as she pushed his toward him.
“Love and light be always in your path, daughter of Ilona,” the mercer said, and he personally ushered her through the door of his shop. “You will find the feather merchant two lanes over. Choose a hawk’s feather for it will bring your father additional good fortune. Your stepmother will want a more showy plume, but be certain your will prevails in the matter. One feather. No more.”
“I understand,” Lara responded, and then the shop door closed behind her and she rejoined her stepmother, who waited in the street. “Come,” she said to Susanna. “He has told me where to find the feather merchant.”
As the old mercer had predicted her father’s young wife wanted the largest, whitest plume she saw. “Think how fine it will look with the blue velvet of your father’s cap, Lara,” she said excitedly, waving it about as the feather merchant grinned.
“It is beautiful,” Lara agreed, “but do you not think it too big? It will draw all the attention away from Da. No one can compete with so wonderful a waving plume. The least breeze, and it will lift the cap from his very head.” She laughed lightly. Her eyes scanned the tall glass canisters of feathers displayed. “I can see such a plume in your lovely hair one day, stepmother, but not, I think, on Da’s cap.”
The feather merchant scowled at her. “It is my finest plume,” he said.
“Oh, it is very fair,” Lara agreed, “but I think a feather that spoke more to my father’s skills as well as his good taste would better suit. The plume is too ostentatious.” She pointed. “Let us see that glass of hawk’s feathers. Don’t you think them elegant, stepmother?” She drew forth a long slender feather mixed with black, white and russet that was tipped with gold. “This one!” she exclaimed.
“It is very nice,” Susanna agreed hesitantly, “but is not the white plume better?”
“The plume, I think, is the sort of thing every boy applying for the tourney will have jutting from his cap. Is that not so?” she directed her question to the feather merchant. “I will wager you have sold more plumes than anything else since the tourney was announced. I feel the hawk’s feather will distinguish Da, and it will bring him luck, stepmother.”
The feather merchant nodded reluctantly. “Your lass is right,” he said. “I have sold nothing but white plumes to those applying. And I am the only feather merchant in the City. The hawk’s feather she so carefully drew from the canister is the finest one I possess. It will indeed identify your man, and permit him to stand out among the others.”
“Then I shall have it!” Susanna told him firmly.
“The hawk’s feather is more expensive than the plume,” he said.
“Wrap it carefully,” Susanna instructed him. “My stepdaughter will sign the receipt. Our account is with Avram the goldsmith. Lara, I will await you outside.” And Susanna swept grandly from the feather merchant’s shop, her dignity restored.
Restraining her laughter, Lara stood quietly as the man first rolled the elegant hawk’s feather in a length of gauze, then slipped it into a long, narrow wooden tube with a metal top. He wrote out two receipts, and pushed one forward for Lara to sign.
“So you’re to be a Pleasure Woman,” he said as he handed her the container and her copy of the receipt. He eyed her boldly.
“I know not what I will be,” Lara said coldly. “That is up to Gaius Prospero.” Then she turned, and left the establishment. The man was too forward.
“What is the matter?” Susanna asked her, seeing the anger on her stepdaughter’s beautiful face. “Are you all right?”
Lara shook her head. “The feather merchant spoke out of turn,” she replied. “It is nothing. Do you have the proper needles and threads we will need for this undertaking?”
Susanna nodded. “Aye, I do.” When Lara got that particular look on her face it was best to leave her be, and inquire no further.
“Then we should go home, stepmother. We have much work ahead of us,” the girl said in gentler tones. Then she smiled at Susanna. “We have been most successful this morning. You must speak to the cobbler in the Quarter. Da will need fine new boots to complete his attire, and the shoemaker must seek out the best leathers he can find.”
“But, Lara, will that not be expensive?” Susanna said.
The girl laughed and patted her stepmother’s arm. “Very expensive, but it will not make a dent in the credit Avram the goldsmith holds in Da’s name,” she said. “You are almost rich, Susanna, and I think it is time you got used to it,” she teased the older woman. “When we have finished Da’s garments we must make you a fine gown in which to attend the tourney.”
“What of you?” her stepmother asked. “You should have a fine gown, too.”
“I think that Gaius Prospero should supply me with such a gown,” Lara answered. “I do belong to him now, do I not? If he wants to display his merchandise at the tourney I believe he should see that I have a proper gown to wear.”
“How can you be so cold about this?” Susanna wondered as they walked.
“What else am I to do, stepmother? You are the one who suggested to my father that he sell me, and you were right. It was the only solution to his dilemma. Besides, what would become of me with no dower portion? No magnate’s wife would have me in service in her house. I am too beautiful, I am told, although the most I have ever seen of my own face is what I can see when I gaze upon my reflection in a basin of water. You might have taken me to the public market and sold me there. But you did not. You sold me to the head of the Merchants of the Midlands Guild himself, which assures me a good fate. I am not cold. I have simply resigned myself to the fact that my childhood is over, and my future awaits. Did you not do the same when your father sought out the matchmaker? You did not know what kind of a man would take you, but you accepted that your fate was your fate. That is what I have done.”
“I wish there had been another way,” Susanna said.
“I do not consider becoming a Pleasure Woman a terrible fate, stepmother, but if your conscience troubles you, and I see it does, then before I go tell me what I must know of men and women. There is no shame to my
virginity, but my ignorance distresses me greatly, I fear. I have heard you and Da at night in your bed, but I know not what you do to elicit such sounds. I can only account for the squeaking of the bedsprings.”
Susanna’s cheeks grew fiery with her stepdaughter’s speech, but she managed to say, “Of course I will instruct you in all I know, Lara, but Pleasure Women know far more than I do.”
“Of course they would,” Lara replied, “but I certainly should have a grasp of the basics, shouldn’t I?”
“I would think so,” Susanna murmured, “but perhaps we should send to Gaius Prospero for his thought in the matter. As you have pointed out, he is now your owner.”
“Let us go now,” Lara said. “We are nearer the Golden District than we are to the Quarter, stepmother.”
“Now? But he is not expecting us. And he has gone to the country, or so your father said. He had promised his children,” Susanna replied.
“We can ask at the gate,” Lara responded as they traversed the main square of the City. She then turned into the avenue leading to the Golden District. Behind her Susanna followed, helpless to her stepdaughter’s strong will. Reaching the gates they sought, Lara strode up to the guard and said, “Is Gaius Prospero at home, sir?”
The guard looked her boldly over then replied, “You would be the new slave he purchased from John Swiftsword. But I did not think you due until after the tourney or so I was told. You are indeed a prime piece of goods, lass.”
Lara glared. “I asked you a question,” she said in icy tones. “If my master is in residence I need his advice on a matter that concerns me. I cannot act without his permission, and while I yet live with my father, I need my master’s words to guide me.”
The guard stood straighter now. “Aye, Gaius Prospero is in residence. His wife and daughters departed for the country yesterday, but he remained behind, for his son grew ill and could not travel. I will allow you through, but this woman must remain outside the gates to wait for you.”
“This is the wife of John Swiftsword, but I will tell her to wait. Will you offer her a place to sit, and some water, please?” Lara said.
“The wife of Swiftsword? Then she may wait inside the gates. There is a bench beneath the trees, and I will bring her refreshment myself. Come!” He beckoned them.
Susanna was actually relieved not to have to accompany her stepdaughter. She reassured Lara that she was content to wait for her, and watched as the cart took the girl from her side, and down a smooth path. She thanked the guardsman who presented her with a wooden goblet of sweet watered wine, and sighed with pleasure at the greensward before her. The cart disappeared from her sight.
Like her father, Lara was enchanted by the parkland through which the cart traveled. She had seen it but once before when Susanna had brought her first to Gaius Prospero; how different and wonderful it was in comparison to the Quarter. She recognized the little road they now turned off upon. They were almost there. As her transport pulled up before the magnificent house a servant hurried out to greet it.
“The master is waiting for you,” he said as he helped Lara from the cart.
“How did he know I was coming?” she wondered aloud.
“Faeriepost. The guard sent one from the gate,” the servant explained. “They aren’t like the one who bore you. They are tiny winged creatures, no bigger than a minute. Come this way, Mistress Lara.”
Faeriepost. She had never heard of it before, but then there was much she didn’t know about the world outside of the Quarter. The servant led her directly to Gaius Prospero, who was seated in the courtyard garden outside of his library. With him was a young boy Lara judged to be about eight years old.
The Master of the Merchants Guild looked up, and smiled. His fat hand with its several rings waved her forward. “I am told you would ask my advice,” he said. “That pleases me greatly, Lara, daughter of Swiftsword.”
“I am your possession, my lord,” she replied, but there was no servility in her voice. “I am aware of my place in the scheme of things to come.” Her lime-green eyes met his directly, and then she lowered them politely.
He nodded. The girl had spirit and intelligence. She would one day be a famous Pleasure Woman because he had been clever enough to see her worth, he congratulated himself silently. Then he said, “This is my son, Aubin. He will follow in my footsteps one day. You may speak to him.”
Lara nodded graciously at the boy. “I greet you, young master,” she said.
“She is beautiful,” the boy said to his father as if Lara could not hear him.
“She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” his father told him. “Always seek out the best and the finest merchandise, my son. You will make no profit with the ordinary. Only the unique and the rare will be of benefit to you.” He patted the boy’s head and then turned to Lara. “Now tell me what it is you desire of me, my beauty?”
“First,” she began, “I would ask your permission for my stepmother to educate me in the ways of men and women. I am totally ignorant of such things.”
“Tell her she may explain the basics to you, but no more,” Gaius Prospero replied. “A high-priced virgin should have certain knowledge, but only that she not be frightened by her first experience with passion. A man purchasing a virgin’s first-night rights likes to lead the way. Surprised innocence has a great charm all its own.” He smiled at Lara in almost paternal fashion. “What else?”
“I should like to see my father win at the tourney, but I thought I would need your permission to attend. And if you give it, should you not also give me a gown to wear that this beauty I am told I possess be displayed to your advantage?”
Gaius Prospero chuckled, and the chuckle grew into hearty laughter. The girl was amazing. Despite all her lack of advantages she had incredible instincts. She was a survivor. He pulled a large purple handkerchief from his sleeve, and wiped his eyes with it. He let his mirth subside, and then he said in calmer tones than he had thought himself capable of, “Aye to both your questions, my beauty. You shall go to the tourney, for I promised your father you should see his triumph—and you shall be displayed as the rare piece of merchandise I intend you to be. And I shall send two litters to your home that day. In one, your stepmother and half brother will ride. The other will be for you alone. You will be brought to my private box on the tournament field where all will see you, and many will desire you.” He looked quizzically at her. “You have never seen yourself, your own image, Lara? This is true?”
“I have glimpsed my face in the basin, and the well bucket, but I see nothing out of the ordinary,” she answered him.
“You must see yourself then before you leave us today.” He stood up. “Come!” And he hurried from the garden with Lara and his son following behind. He led them into a gallery that was lined with mirrors on one side, and with windows that overlooked the vast parkland outside. “There, my beauty,” he said triumphantly. “There is your image. The image of perfect beauty!”
Lara stared, not quite certain that what she saw was real. “Truly, my lord? I look upon myself?” The tall and slender image in the glass stared back. It wore a simple sleeveless dark blue gown tied at the waist by a twisted, natural-colored cord. Her graceful neck rose above the gown’s round neckline. Her hair was pale with golden lights. Her lime-green eyes stared at her from a heart-shaped face with a straight little nose and generous lips. Her chin had just the daintiest of clefts in it. Her brows were dark in comparison to her hair, as were her eyelashes. “I see only a girl,” Lara said.
“Remove your gown,” Gaius Prospero said to her quietly.
“But the boy…” she began, and then she stopped. The boy was his father’s heir in all ways. Lara undid the little ties at the shoulder of her gown and let the garment drop to the floor. There was a faint blush to her cheeks.
“You see, Aubin, the perfect breasts. Small yet, but perfect nonetheless. And the way her hips flare gently below her slim waist. Her limbs are most shapely, are they not? And
see how full the golden bush so coyly hiding her sex is. Such is an indication of a very passionate nature. Everything is in perfect proportion on this girl. Touch her. The skin is like silk, and utterly flawless.” He ran his hand casually down Lara’s back, over her buttocks, and the boy imitated his motions. “You see, my son. A rare piece of merchandise. Lara, my beauty, do you not have a beautiful body? Do you now understand your value?”
She gazed at herself in the mirror with new eyes. She was beautiful. There wasn’t a mark on her body to detract from her perfection. She wondered why Gaius Prospero wasn’t desirous of her, but then she realized as their eyes met in the glass that her value to him was in her worth as quality merchandise. Nothing more. Profit was in his heart and soul. “Yes” she agreed, “though I have no other with whom to compare.”
“But never allow that knowledge to overcome your common sense, my beauty,” he advised her. He bent down and drew her garment back up, fastening the tabs at the shoulders. Then he touched her face gently. “Lovely,” he murmured almost to himself.
“Thank you, my lord,” Lara said quietly. “May I have your permission to withdraw now, and return to Susanna who awaits me?”
He nodded his assent, calling for a servant to lead her back through the house to where her transport was awaiting her. Lara was a glorious creature, he thought. He desired her himself, but she was simply too valuable to tamper with, and because he never allowed his own emotions to interfere with his judgment, he hid his desire well.
Her stepmother looked up, relieved, as Lara stepped from the cart. Together the two left the Golden District, thanking the guardsman on duty for his courtesy as they departed. Susanna was clutching their purchases to her ample bosom as they walked swiftly through the City. Finally she spoke. “What happened?” she asked Lara.
“Gaius Prospero says you are to instruct me in the basics of passion that I not be fearful,” Lara began. “And he will give me a gown to wear so I am properly displayed. And he will send two litters for us. I am to ride alone in one, you and Mikhail in the other. We will be escorted to his box that we may see all.”
Lara: Book One of the World of Hetar Page 4