She took Tunde’s hand and guided it along Gitta’s side. “See how big Gitta is?” The girl nodded. “She’s strong too; one of the strongest horses I know. Even her name means ‘strong,’ and she uses that strength to drag the nets through the waves. It’s hard work. The sea is powerful, and the waves push against her so hard that she needs all her strength to push back. The more people we put on her back, the harder it becomes for her.”
The child listened, wide-eyed and without further protest. The well-being of big Gitta was far more important than satisfying the wishes of adults. “I’ll go sort fishes,” she said and scampered away toward Vencel.
Andras’s soft laughter caressed the air between them. “Well done, Mistress Imre.”
She shrugged and avoided looking at him. What about this man did Jolen despise so much? And had it always been this way, or did she love him once only to have that love sour?
“I have no objections,” he continued. “She’ll enjoy it. Tunde is used to being on horseback, though Gitta will be the first like her that she’s ever ridden.”
He volunteered to help her reset the nets and boards, his movements quick and efficient. In no time, she was back in the water with Gitta.
Her second trawl was as uneventful as the first, for which she was grateful. She split her attention between searching the sand bottom for depressions so she could guide Gitta around them and watching her sister’s child throw crabs to gulls or show her father a particular fish from the basket she helped sort. Sometimes she felt Andras’s gaze on her and Gitta as they trawled the shallows.
He hadn’t told Tunde the reason why Zigana looked so much like her mother or that the two were sisters, and Zigana had held her silence as well. It would have done nothing but confuse the girl and make her wonder how the sun-browned peasant woman in an old frock and bare feet could possibly be her aunt. When she was older, she’d make the connection—if she even remembered Zigana and her big gray sea mare.
When she returned, Andras was in conversation with one of the other trawlers while Tunde played chase games with some of the village children who had come to the beach. He left the conversation and gathered his daughter to bring her to Zigana.
The girl’s hair was windblown and tangled, and a stray crab claw was stuck to a fold of her skirt. She’d lost her shoes somewhere on the beach, and sand coated her shins in a gritty layer. She clapped her hands, eyes bright with excitement. “I can ride Gitta now!”
Zigana raised a staying hand. “Not yet. We’ve more sorting to do, and if you help me, it will go fast. Then we ride.”
“I’ll help as well. Just tell me what needs to be done,” Andras said as he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up past the elbows. Zigana showed them how to unhook the net, clear it of the catch and sort and sieve the shrimp from the other catch. When they finished, she delivered the catch to Elek’s son who had trawled with Voreg while Odon met with the council.
“Payment,” she told him. “And give our regards to your family.”
He thanked her and promised to brush down Voreg and set up her feed and water when they returned to the barn.
Zigana returned to her guests. “Now we ride,” she announced to Tunde and laughed when the little girl cheered.
“Find your shoes first,” Andras instructed. Tunde raced away to hunt for her abandoned footwear. He watched her as he spoke to Zigana. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve given her the gift of free childhood.”
Zigana titled her head, puzzled by the remark. “What do you mean?”
He sighed, and the faint droop to his broad shoulders hinted at a weariness that went beyond the physical. “Jolen takes her role as Lady Frantisek very seriously and wants Tunde to do the same. She doesn’t approve of Tunde spending her day playing on the beach instead of attending to her lessons with her tutors or dance instructors.”
Zigana’s eyes rounded, remembering just the day before when Jolen rode behind her as they trawled and sang sea shanties at the top of her lungs. The woman she knew as her sister embraced the carefree times she spent on the shore. The Jolen Andras spoke of was a stranger to her, and obviously the one she was familiar with was a stranger to him.
“I’m glad Tunde has enjoyed herself so far,” she said, careful to avoid asking for anymore clarification. “Though I will have made life hard for you this evening.”
His gaze swept to her for a brief moment. “How so?”
“You and Tunde reek of fish. Jolen will never forgive me for it.”
He laughed, the sound carrying down the beach to where Tunde sat to put on her shoes. She waved to her father who waved back. “Jolen will tear a strip off me anyway when I return. Fish smell will just give her a ready excuse to do it, so put your mind at ease.”
Tunde dashed back to them, shoes loosely tied and encrusted with sand. “I’m ready,” she proclaimed.
Zigana mounted Gitta first and slid back against the saddle’s cantle to allow room for Tunde in front of her. Andras lifted the little girl and set her into the seat. “Ready?” Zigana asked.
“Ready!” Tunde’s voice quivered with excitement.
Zigana clicked, and Gitta set off, slipping into the same rolling gait she used when they plowed through the water. They traveled a short length of beach before Zigana coaxed the mare into a trot, then a canter. Tunde laughed and cried out “Faster, faster!” They rode back to the waiting Andras, at full gallop, slowing gradually as they drew closer until Gitta lumbered to a stop.
Andras helped his daughter off the mare. “What do you think, Tunde? Is it like riding a giant?”
She giggled. “I like Gitta much better than your horse, Papa.”
He put a hand to his chest as if the words pained him. “Bui runs much faster than Gitta.”
