The Song of the Thrush

by Christine Pope

  “I am not so sure it is a matter of what I deserve,” I said slowly, attempting to choose my words with care, for I did not want to offend my father, who clearly had put aside his own pride to journey to Marric’s Rest and plead for me to come home. “It is more that being here with Corin has taught me something more of what the world has to offer. There can be a simple beauty in this kind of life, one I didn’t even realize existed before now. He has been very kind and has treated me well. Should I be a coward and run away, simply because this is not the life I was born to?”

  “You are not a coward,” my father protested. “It is not as though you came to me and begged for release from this marriage I thrust upon you. From what I have been able to see of you today, you have borne up under these hardships with far more grace than most might have expected.”

  “Indeed?” I was not sure whether to be amused or annoyed by this pronouncement. Had my father so little faith in my strength of character, my resilience? But then, I supposed I had not given much indication of strength or resilience in the past, not when I had been known to lose my temper over something so silly as the wrong color of ribbons used to tie back my hair. “Well, I am glad to know that I have exceeded your expectations, Father. However, you know I cannot leave. No, rather, I will not leave. I will not do that to Corin, to make him be the man whose wife left him because she did not care enough to struggle her way through a new kind of life.”

  For a long moment, my father said nothing. Indeed, from the way he stared at me, it seemed that he was attempting to determine whether I was in fact the same daughter who had left her childhood home only a short week and a half earlier. I could not precisely fault him for thinking such a thing, for the Marenna I had been a scant ten days ago would not have uttered such words. Corin had helped to wreak such a change in me, and I had to thank him for that.

  “Can it be that you do truly care for him?”

  “Yes,” I said stoutly, hoping that the firmness in my voice would help to convince him of my sincerity. “I do…very much. You might have thought that you were teaching me a lesson, Father, or perhaps you believed that you had not given very much thought to the man who would be the agent of such a teaching exercise. However, it seems your fatherly instincts won out, for I do believe that if someone had presented himself who was not worthy in your eyes, you would not have sent me away with him. Now I cannot think of being with anyone but Corin, which means he has turned out to be the choice of my heart, even if it did not seem that way in the beginning.”

  “I am…surprised,” my father managed in response to my statement, which was only the truth. He still wore an expression of astonishment, as though his mind and heart still could not quite comprehend the veracity of what I had told him.

  I smiled. “I am also surprised…at myself, at what my heart has been trying to tell me for the past few days. I must thank you, Father, for perhaps I needed you to come here and try to convince me to leave in order for me to know the truth of my feelings. Do not trouble yourself over me, because I know I am where I am supposed to be. However,” I added with a chuckle, “if you could perhaps send me a sturdy pair of shoes, I would most appreciate it. My slippers are nearly in tatters, and I know they cannot survive the winter.”

  He shook his head, another frown touching his brow. “Are your straits so dire that your husband cannot provide you with the proper shoes?”

  “Oh, no,” I replied at once. “We can afford it, but we are so busy right now that finding the time to go to Elmcroft and have a new pair made is quite out of the question. I left many pairs of shoes behind, so it should be simple enough to have Sendra package up some of them and send them to me.”

  “I will see to it,” my father said. I heard the resignation in his tone, as though he was agreeing to this only because he knew he could say nothing to dissuade me from my course. At least by sending me some shoes, he could tell himself that he had done what he could to help me.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  He rose from his chair then and extended a hand to me. I took it, watched as he wrapped his fingers around mine and gave them a gentle squeeze before letting go. His skin felt very soft compared to Corin’s work-hardened touch.

  But then, my father had never done anything more strenuous than follow the hounds on the hunt. I did not know why I should be expecting to feel the calluses of a laboring man.

  A few steps toward the door, and then he turned and stared down at me, his expression pleading. “You are sure of this, Marenna? Absolutely sure? I know that no one will think the less of you if you come away with me now.”

  “I will think less of me,” I responded. “And that is enough for me to know that I have made the right choice. I could not do such a thing to Corin. He does not deserve such treatment.”

  My father nodded, and said, “He is a lucky man. I hope he knows that he has inspired such devotion.”

  Did he know? I thought I had made my own feelings on the subject quite clear, but perhaps that was part of the problem. Perhaps Corin had spurned me because he thought I was toying with him in some way.

  Well, I would simply have to find some way to disabuse him of that notion.

  “He knows,” I said, my tone firm.

  “Well, then.” A pause, and my father added, “May the gods smile on you, Marenna.”

  “And on you, Father,” I replied.

  He smiled then, but it was a rueful smile, as though he thought I was the one far more in need of the gods’ favor than he. However, he did not respond, but settled his hat more firmly on his head and drew his cloak around him, then headed out into the rainy night.

  I shut the door behind him and prayed I had made the right choice.

  CHAPTER 13

  Over the course of the next few days, I felt as though my judgment was being sorely tested, for even as preparations for the upcoming harvest ball at the castle grew to a fever pitch, it seemed that Corin became more and more distant and distracted, less inclined to speak with me or even comfort me with a smile. No, whatever weighed on his mind, clearly it was not something he wished to share with me.

  Unsure as to what I should do, I withdrew as well. I only made perfunctory inquiries about his day when he came home in the evening and delivered the most desultory of remarks about the weather in the morning before he departed. Yes, because I had vowed to be a good wife to him, I made sure that meals were prepared and the cottage kept as clean as I could manage, what with most of my day spent in the castle’s kitchen, but I would not go any further than that. Certainly I did not bother to renew my pursuit of him. It seemed I was now doubly a servant, both at the castle and in the cottage that was now my home. Even so, I would not give Corin the satisfaction of knowing how disappointed I was by the current state of affairs.

  The only bright note was that Lynnis appeared to have gotten over the worst of her sickness, and she sent word that she wanted to speak with me. My spare time was limited in the extreme, but my desire to see her was even greater than my need to sweep the cottage before dinner, and so I hurried over to her house — modest and plain, but still finer than mine — glad that Corin should not be home for another hour or so.

  She seemed well enough that she was able to sit up, but I noted that she looked rather pale, the lively glow gone from her cheeks. However, it seemed churlish to remark upon such a detail, especially since her current appearance was a result of the blessing for which she’d waited so long. Instead, I pulled up a chair and sat down across from her by the hearth. It did feel good to sit and rest my aching feet, to enjoy the warmth of a fire I hadn’t had to build myself.

  Apparently, being confined to her bed for a few days hadn’t done much to mar her powers of observation. One eyebrow lifted, and she looked me up and down, then shook her head. “You do not seem to be particularly blooming of late, Mistress Blackstone.”

  I might have said the same of her, except that I had already made a vow to myself not to comment on her wan looks. However, it see
med she must have read my thoughts, because she chuckled and continued,

  “Oh, I know I am not the perfect picture of health at the moment, either. But this will pass, and I am certain that in no time I will be as rosy and blooming as any woman who has carried a child.” Her smile faded slightly, and she cocked a head at me. “So, Marenna, tell me what is amiss. We are long overdue for a chat.”

  The same thought had passed through my head many times already, but now that I faced my friend, I was not sure how much I should tell her. She already had enough to occupy her mind. And really, it was not as though I had anything terribly earth-shaking to confide in her. I could not even say that Corin and I had quarreled. Our current problem appeared to be indifference, not anger.

  I lifted my shoulders. “Oh, I suppose it is only that all the preparations at the castle have begun to wear on me. Perhaps it is a good thing that so many dishes — or at least the components required for them — can be prepared in advance, but it does seem to make the whole ordeal last much longer than it should.”

  Her gaze was sympathetic. “Yes, the duke’s harvest ball is quite the event of the year in this part of the world. Of course I have never attended, but I’ve heard the stories. Also, his Grace is kind enough to send some of the leftover food down here to the settlement the day after the party, so we all get a chance to taste the delicacies that the noble lords and ladies dined on the evening before.”

  Did that mean I would have an opportunity to consume some of the very food which was currently making my life such a nightmare? For some reason, that notion seemed to make the whole ordeal even worse. After putting so much effort into them, I found I didn’t have much appetite for all those refined dishes.

  “How very noble of him,” I remarked. “It is too bad his Grace’s nobility doesn’t extend toward hiring extra help, rather than making those already on his household staff have to shoulder far too large a burden.”

  Rather than the sympathetic noises I had expected, Lynnis only tilted her head at me and shot a curious glance in my direction. “But it is all part of their duties. They know the harvest ball is coming, and plan for it accordingly.” Apparently, I did not look too impressed by this line of reasoning, for she then leaned over and patted my hand. “It seems hard because it is all very new to you. I imagine that next year you will not think it any great ordeal.”

  At once I widened my eyes at her and gave a shake of my head. “Oh, no, there will not be a ‘next year.’ Corin assured me that this work in the kitchen is only temporary. Once he is firmly established here as the under-overseer, there will be no need for me to work at the castle at all.”

  Judging by my friend’s dubious expression, it seemed that she did not quite believe this fairy story. However, she also did not appear inclined to argue, thank the gods, for she gave a very small lift of her shoulders and said, “Ah, well, if that is the case, I suppose you can look on this one time as a little adventure you once had, and nothing more. But I am sorry that it has turned out to be such a burden.”

  Her words led me to think that she had never had to shoulder such a burden herself, for Hal’s contributions to the estate were enough to support the two of them. That realization made me frown inwardly, however. As far as I could tell, Lynnis’ husband had far fewer skills than Corin, and yet the two of them seemed to manage well enough on what Hal earned as a simple laborer. But then, he and Lynnis had both been born here at Marric’s Rest, had spent their entire lives on the estate. Perhaps Lord Sorthannic thought their history merited them more consideration than a pair of strangers who had appeared here out of nowhere, asking for work. Corin — and I by extension as his wife — must needs toil much harder to prove our worth.

  “It will be over in a few days,” I said. For indeed, I knew that to only be the truth. However much I might find myself suffering now, this chaos could not last forever. By the day after tomorrow, matters should have returned to normal, or at least as normal as they could be, with such coolness existing between my husband and myself.

  “Precisely,” Lynnis replied with a smile. Her hand moved to her belly, which still appeared quite flat to me. “Whereas I have many more months to go.”

  “Ah, but the child is something you have long hoped and wished for. I cannot say the same thing about my time in the kitchens of Lord Sorthannic’s castle!”

  In response to that remark, she could only laugh aloud and say, “Well, that much is true. And Tharis brought over some peppermint tea, which has done a great deal to calm my stomach. I do not think it can do much to help you with your kitchen work, unfortunately!”

  No, there was not a tea which existed that could soothe my current ills. Only the passage of time would cure my troubles…and perhaps not even then, if Corin and I could not find a way to smooth away the bumps that had surfaced over the past few days.

  “No, probably not,” I said. “But I am glad that you have found something to help you feel better, and doubly glad that the gods have chosen to smile upon you. When will the babe make his appearance in the world?”

  “Sometime in late spring, I think. That is a piece of good luck for me, for I will not have the burden of carrying a child in the heat of the summer. Why, Nelys had her youngest at the height of August, and she looked as though she might faint at any moment toward the end.”

  I could only imagine how difficult that must be. Of course Sirlende did not have the brutal summers of Keshiaar, where I had heard the desert sands grew so hot the very air shimmered above them, but it could still be uncomfortably warm. Those drowsy summer days had often sent me to lie down in my room during the peak heat of the afternoon, clad only in a chemise, for even my lightest linen gowns had felt like too much of a burden. However, a woman of Lynnis’ station — or Nelys’ — did not have the luxury of taking such a rest. She must continue to work, whether or not she was heavy with child.

  That might be my fate as well, except that right then I did not think I had much to fear in terms of carrying a child. At the moment, Corin seemed barely inclined to speak to me, let alone touch me in the way that would quicken a life within my womb.

  “Yes, that is quite fortuitous,” I said. “One might think you planned it that way.”

  “Oh, I am not that clever. Determined, yes, and my determination finally paid off. But I would never presume to say that I had planned for matters to turn out this way.”

  No, I supposed she had not. As I shifted in my chair, I realized that the view out the window had grown dim and dusky, the sun now set. I had spent longer here than I planned, and I knew I must hurry home, or dinner would be terribly late. Rising from my chair, I made a hasty apology to Lynnis, telling her I must go immediately.

  She brushed away my apology and said, “I had not realized it was so late. Of course it is time for you to go home. I suppose I shall not see you tomorrow, but the day after you must come over and let me know all about the ball. I would love you to describe all the fine ladies to me.”

  That last thing I wanted was to be able to give a description of those “fine ladies,” for that would mean I was in a position to see them in all their silken splendor. I did not wish for such a thing, no, quite the opposite. My most fervent desire was to be able to hide in the kitchen all evening, and never set foot outside its door.

  However, I knew I could not tell Lynnis these things, for she would want to know why on earth I did not wish to catch a glimpse of Lord Sorthannic’s guests. I could not tell her the truth; the story of my origins was not something I wanted bandied about the settlement. Perhaps one day I would feel comfortable with everyone knowing my true history, but I certainly was not about to make such revelations now. Besides, as uncharitable as the thought might be, I did not know for sure whether Lynnis was inclined to gossip, or whether I could trust her to keep all my secrets.

  “I will do my best,” I said, my voice noncommittal, and bent and squeezed her hand before I let myself out.

  Unlike the evening when my father had so unex
pectedly visited me, it was a fine night, with a warm yellow moon rising behind the hills to the east, now a fat gibbous shape only a few days away from full. No doubt Lord Sorthannic had timed his harvest ball to coincide with the bright moon. However, I could not tarry to revel in its splendor, for I was already terribly late. It was a good thing that all I had planned for dinner was cold chicken pie and some fruit compote.

  When I entered the cottage, I saw that I was even later than I’d thought, for candles flickered on the table where Corin and I took our meals, and on the plain wood mantel above the hearth. My husband sat at the table, one of our stoneware goblets sitting in front of him.

  “They had you working very late tonight,” he said.

  For a scant second I considered agreeing with him, letting him think that I had come home directly from the castle. But even with all the coolness between us, I still did not wish to lie to him. “Actually, I was at Lynnis’ home,” I replied. “She was well enough to see me, and we had a little chat. I truly did not realize it was this late. I will get dinner out immediately.”

  “No need to rush.” He tipped his head to one side and sent me a searching glance. “And no need to look so worried, my wife. I am not one of those boors who feels it is within his rights to beat his wife simply because dinner is a half hour late reaching the table.”

  “No, of course not,” I said. Whatever might have caused the separation between us, it certainly was not because I feared Corin. Yes, I had heard that some men behaved in such a way toward their wives, but my husband was certainly not one of those brutish types. “But I am sure you are hungry…as am I.”

  I left the room then and went to the kitchen. It was the work of only a few short moments to cut slices of cold chicken pie — Corin’s piece much larger than mine — and to add some spiced apple compote and pieces of bread to our plates. I hurried out to the table where my husband sat and set his plate in front of him.