Corin took the blanket from the donkey and spread it on the ground. “Your seat, my lady.”
I carefully eased myself onto the blanket and took in a deep breath of the sweet, fresh-smelling air. “It is quite lovely here.”
“I am glad you like it.” He went back over to his pack and extracted several packets wrapped in muslin. “The innkeeper sent bread and cheese along with us, and a few slices of bacon. Cold, of course, but I’ve found that matters little when one has sufficient appetite.”
“It sounds lovely,” I said. Polite, empty words, for of course I would have far preferred a slice of hot meat pie. However, I was hungry enough that even the rough rations Corin had mentioned would do in a pinch.
He came and sat down across from me on the blanket, and unwrapped one of the packets, revealing a chunk of blue-veined cheese. The next contained a whole loaf of bread with a pleasing golden crust, as well as the slices of bacon he’d promised. There were only four, but they were quite thick and nicely browned, so they should do very well.
“We are making good time,” he said as he doled out the bread and cheese, along with the bacon. I could not help but notice that he gave me larger portions, even though I had had breakfast, while he went without. Pointing this out to him did not seem like a good idea, and so I resolved to eat daintily and insist that he finish what I could not. That way he could at least have his hunger somewhat satisfied and still feel as though he had shown me the courtesy he clearly thought due his wife.
“Are we?” I inquired, after nibbling at some bread and cheese. “I must confess that I don’t know this part of the country well, so I do not have a very good idea of our progress.”
“I am not all that familiar with it, either, but we passed a mile marker a little ways back that indicated we only had seven miles to go until we reach Elmcroft, which is the village nearest Lord Sorthannic’s estate.” He picked up one of his pieces of bacon and broke it in half, then took a bite. As he lifted the bacon to his mouth, the sunlight flashed on a silver ring he wore on the little finger of his right hand.
I had noticed the ring before, but only in a cursory way, taking note of its presence without seeing any of its details. It was a handsome piece, thick silver in one of the complex twistwork patterns so beloved here in Sirlende, although unadorned by any stones. “That is quite a fine ring,” I commented, then worried whether my tone had sounded at all accusatory, as though I had made the remark because I did not believe someone of his station should have something so expensive in his possession.
Corin glanced down at the band on his finger. “Thank you. It belonged to my father — a gift from the man who employed him. When he passed, it came to me. In truth, I sometimes fear that it makes me a target for thieves, but I look on it rather as a good luck piece and would rather wear it than keep it tucked away in a pouch or pocket.”
“Ah,” I said. Well, that explained why he owned what was obviously an expensive piece of jewelry. “Do you wear it when you work as well?”
“Oh, no,” he replied at once. “I tie it to a leather thong and hang it around my neck. That way, I can keep the luck with me and not have to worry about losing it whilst working in the fields.”
I nodded, and took a few more bites of bread and cheese. To tell the truth, looking at his ring only saddened me, for I could not help but think of all the fine jewels I had left behind in my father’s home. It angered me that I could not have brought along even the simplest pair of silver earrings, but my father’s will had been absolute in the matter. Corin and I could have sold those pieces, vastly supplementing the fifty gold crowns that were to be my only dowry.
A silence stretched between us, one I was not sure how to fill. Yes, I could not deny that I enjoyed Corin’s company, or that his mere presence was enough to send delicious little flickers of excitement through my body, and yet at the same time, I vehemently wished that his situation had been different. I had not been born to travel the roads on the back of a donkey, or to sit on a blanket and eat bread and cheese like a peasant. Why, I did not have even the plainest of silver bands on my finger to show that Corin was truly my husband.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly, and I looked up, startled, to see him watching me with a certain sorrow in his eyes.
“Sorry for what?” I asked. “The food is nourishing, and the setting here is beautiful. Whatever are you apologizing for?”
“For not giving you a ring to wear.” He hesitated, his fingers twisting the ring he wore.
Surely he couldn’t think I expected him to give me that one keepsake from his father? While I would admit that having a wedding band might have made our marriage feel more legitimate, I would never ask him to give up something that was so obviously precious to him. “It doesn’t matter, Corin. And please, do not even think of giving me your ring. While I might appreciate the sentiment, I fear that heavy band would slide off even my largest finger. I could not bear to take away the only thing you have from your father.”
He was silent for a moment, expression surprised and relieved at the same time. “You have a generous heart, Marenna.”
“Oh, I am not so sure about that,” I protested. Indeed, his compliment made me feel rather shamefaced, for I was not sure I had earned the praise at all. It was easy to be generous when one’s family wealth allowed a person to be extravagant. Now I had nothing and could not quite keep myself from bemoaning that fact. I doubted that Corin would think me so generous if he had been able to see inside my mind, see some of the resentments I had just barely prevented from bubbling up to my lips. “I just know that I would feel dreadful if something were to happen to the ring your father left you. Perhaps — perhaps if all goes well at Lord Sorthannic’s estate, and he pays you well enough, you can get me a ring. My birthday is at the end of next month.”
“It is?” He smiled then. “That gives me a goal to work toward.”
Indeed, he looked so pleased that I wondered if I should have kept silent about my birthday. It was not an event I looked forward to with any real enthusiasm. How could I, when in the past my father had always held grand celebrations in my honor, with families coming from all around to dine and dance and listen to the musicians he hired for the event?
I somehow doubted I would have anything quite so fine when my twentieth birthday came around a month from now.
“But if you have finished,” Corin went on, his tone now brisk, “then we should get back on the road. I do not want to tarry here so long that we arrive after sunset.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve finished.” It had been a meager enough meal, one that could be quickly eaten. And he was right — I had only the haziest of ideas as to how one appeared at a noble’s estate and asked for work, but I doubted it was the sort of endeavor that could be successfully accomplished after nightfall.
So I got up from the blanket, and Corin picked up the muslin that had wrapped our food and stuffed it in his pack. The blanket went back on the donkey, who did not appear all that happy to be interrupted in her grass-eating to have a human placed once more on her back. However, she was a sweet-tempered little creature and did not put up any fuss, but rather submitted to being led back out on the road so we could continue our progress.
Now the road began to be somewhat more crowded; we passed wains filled with sweet-smelling straw, or loads of apples, or barrels that might have been cider or wine or beer. A shepherd went past, a bright-eyed dog helping to keep his flock headed down the hard-packed dirt road, rather than wandering off into the fields on either side. Corin and I earned a few curious glances, but no one stopped to ask our business, and I saw no one who looked remotely familiar, which certainly helped to lift my spirits.
At length the sun began to dip toward the west, and the traffic lightened somewhat. We came to a crossroads, one with “Marric’s Rest” neatly painted on the signpost there, along with an arrow pointing toward the east. If we continued on our current path, we would arrive at Elmcroft, but of course that was not our intended
destination.
“Not so very long now,” Corin said.
He had smiled, but it seemed to me that he now looked somewhat anxious for the first time, as if he was not quite sure of our reception at Lord Sorthannic’s estate. True, if we were turned away, we still had money in our pocket, and certainly we should be able to find lodging in Elmcroft without too much difficulty, but that would do nothing to solve the long-term problem of where we would live, of how Corin could earn a living.
I told myself that borrowing trouble never did anyone any good, and that of course a person with my husband’s talents should be welcomed at Lord Sorthannic’s estate. At the same time, I had to pray that his Grace would be occupied elsewhere, and not consulting with his overseer, for otherwise this would be a most awkward meeting.
The road took us to lands bordered by a low stone wall, a wall with an iron gate more for show than anything else, for it certainly was not tall enough to be defensible. Of course, Sirlende had not been at war for centuries now, and many estates — my father’s included — had dispensed with the sorts of barricades that might keep marauders at bay. However, this gate was guarded by a pair of men wearing black and silver livery, with long swords at their hips, although they made no move to pull those swords from their sheaths as we approached. Then again, I supposed that a woman on a donkey and a single unarmed man were not quite enough to be any cause for alarm.
One of the guards stepped forward. He looked to be a few years older than Corin, and although he seemed to be doing his best to appear stern, I couldn’t help but notice a certain twinkle in his dark eyes as he looked the two of us over, his gaze lingering on me for a second or two longer than was strictly proper.
“State your business at Marric’s Rest.”
“I am Corin Blackstone, and this is my wife Marenna. I have come here because my experience is in the cultivation of vineyards, and I have heard that his Grace has extensive vines. I thought I would come to offer my services with the harvest.”
The guard looked back at his companion, who also appeared to be in his early thirties, although his expression was far more forbidding. He frowned and scratched at the stubble on his chin, and appeared to be considering Corin’s words without any real enthusiasm. Watching him, my heart sank. What if they turned us away?
But then he shrugged, and said, “I have heard they are in need of help, for the under-overseer fell and broke his leg last week. We will take you to see Master Brinsell, the overseer.”
The dark clouds that had begun to gather above my head seemed to melt away at this pronouncement. Not that I wished the under-overseer — whoever he might be — any ill luck, but if he had to break his leg, his timing was certainly fortuitous.
“Thank you very much, good sir,” Corin said. “I appreciate the opportunity.”
The second guard lifted his shoulders again. The first guard, who was somewhat taller, bent and murmured something to him, although I could not catch what he said. Whatever it was, it seemed to amuse the other man, for a fleeting smile touched his mouth before he grew stern again.
“This way,” he said as the first guard opened the gate.
Corin led the donkey inside, following the guard as he took us down a well-groomed path — well, a small road, really, certainly large enough to accommodate two wagons or carriages riding side by side — that cut through equally well-tended fields. Off to our left was acre upon acre of wheat, now turning even more golden in the light of the westering sun, while off to our right were the estate’s storied vines, lush and lovingly cared for, their thick leaves allowing only tantalizing glimpses of the deep purple or pale green fruit hidden within.
Up ahead was the duke’s castle itself, turreted towers reaching up toward the sky, flags in the silver and black of the household flapping in the breeze. The place was very much grander than the castle where I had grown up, and once again I could not help but scold myself, knowing that if I had simply learned to govern my tongue, I might have been mistress of all this magnificence.
Our destination was not the castle, however. The road forked, taking us off to the right, to a small settlement of a dozen or so cottages surrounded by trees, with a larger house of two stories set slightly back from the cottages and surrounded by more elm and beech trees.
It was to this house that the guard led us. “This is Master Brinsell’s home,” he explained. “I know he is back from riding the fields, for Ollin and I spied him heading home not a half hour earlier. You may go to him and plead your case.”
Once again that nervous flutter started somewhere in my belly, for while it seemed that fortune might have smiled on us — as it certainly had not for the hapless under-overseer with his broken leg — I could not be certain of our fate until Corin spoke with this Master Brinsell. My husband, if he was experiencing any uncertainty, showed no sign of it; his chin was up, his shoulders squared, as though he was already going over in his mind everything he might say to his possible employer.
We stopped next to the two-story house, and Corin came to me and helped me down from the donkey. This time, my feet barely hurt, and I quietly blessed him for securing that unlikely mount, as I knew that even in sturdy shoes, I should have been in a good deal of pain if I had been forced to walk again today.
“I shall go in and announce you,” the guard told us. “Wait here.” He knocked once, said, “It is Cale,” and let himself in without any more ceremony than that.
I cocked an eyebrow at Corin, and he smiled down at me. “It seems they are not too formal here, even if this is a grand estate. A good sign, I think.”
“Let us hope so.”
The guard emerged and said, holding the door open for us, “Master Brinsell will speak with you now.”
We nodded in acknowledgment and went inside. Although of course this house was nothing like the castle of my birth, it appeared very snug and neat to me, with its whitewashed walls and dark-beamed ceilings and windows of diamond-paned glass. On one wall was a large cabinet that displayed an impressive collection of pewter goblets and mugs, and on another hung a painting of the estate itself, with the vines filling the foreground and the castle golden and magnificent in the background.
Sitting in front of the painting was a quite handsome man in his late fifties, or perhaps his early sixties. His grey-streaked black hair, which was still quite thick, had been pulled back from his face into a long tail not unlike the one Corin wore, and he had a closely trimmed beard with none of the betraying grey of his hair. He sat up a little straighter as the two of us approached and fixed my husband with a keen dark eye.
“So you know something of the vines, Master Blackstone? And where did you acquire this knowledge?”
“Sir, I learned it from working the fields in Delanir with my father, who was the overseer of an estate there. I had hoped to take over his duties after he left this world, but unfortunately, the owner of the vineyards passed away not so long after that, and his heirs sought to sell his land. That is why I must now seek employment elsewhere.”
Master Brinsell listened to this narrative and nodded. “Well, your timing is fortuitous, for my right-hand man has injured himself, and he cannot walk the fields to perform the necessary inspections.” His head tilted slightly as he looked up at Corin. “Is your knowledge confined only to growing the grapes, or to making wine as well?”
“I’ve assisted in the production of five vintages so far. They all did very well, with all the stock purchased by the wine merchants of Iselfex at a good price.”
“Excellent.” The older man rose to his feet; standing, he was only an inch or so shorter than Corin. “We will definitely have need of you during the harvest, and then we shall see how we stand. Am I to assume that you and your wife have need of accommodation while you work here at Marric’s Rest?”
“Yes, sir, if any is available.”
“As it turns out, we do have an empty cottage, although it needs a good airing-out.” This time, Master Brinsell turned his attention to me,
and gave me a quick glance up and down. Perhaps he was trying to assess my aptitude for performing such homely chores. I could only hope that such talent was not easily discernible by the naked eye, or he certainly would know that I was ill-suited for such a task. “The pay is forty silver for a week’s worth of work, along with the use of a cottage. I can guarantee at least four weeks for you, possibly more.”
It seemed like a piddly sum to me, but Corin did not appear at all put off by the amount the estate’s overseer had mentioned. “That sounds most excellent, Master Brinsell.”
“Very good. Let me show you to the cottage, and you can get settled before sundown. Each of our workers is given an allotment of food supplies each week as part of their pay — I’ll see that someone from the storerooms at the castle brings it down to you.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
The overseer gave a deprecating chuckle. “Ah, well, we grow most everything here on the estate, so it is not too much of an effort to make sure everyone gets their fair share. If you’ll come with me.”
He began to walk to the door. I noticed that he had something of a limp and tended to favor his left leg. An injury, or was he merely suffering from the joint aches that often afflicted those of a certain age?
Of course I did not know him well enough to ask, and so I followed him and Corin outside, where my husband took the donkey by her lead rope.
“There is a corral where you can put your animal,” Master Brinsell offered. “It is on the way.”
I was relieved to hear that we would be able to give the donkey a safe place to forage — and also happy to know that she would not be underfoot in our new home, like an oversized dog. Although such practices were very rare in Sirlende, I had heard in the far north some of the tribes brought their horses inside to live with them, and indeed treated the animals like members of the family. While I had to admit that the donkey had proved to be a steady and faithful mount, it did not mean I wanted her in my dining room.
The Song of the Thrush Page 7