I kept all of this to myself when I was with my friends. I was so unsure of what my magic even was, as there had been no evidence of it other than Cian’s word. And my fascination with Gareth Pope was as of yet, unexplainable to myself. In the baths and at our meals, I preferred to listen. River and Quinn were content with their scribe work in the temple of Sister Sea, Thalia being a taskmaster, but fair.
Catrin said the dowager queen was a grouchy, elderly woman who was argumentative, paranoid and sometimes rude, but had decided to like Catrin and the work was not laborious. Modwenna held court with the wives of nobles all day and then gossiped about them with Catrin afterwards. Catrin said Lady Vinia was often in the queen’s chambers and watched her too, asking her questions about Eccleston and the rest of us under the guise of getting to know the queen’s new lady-in-waiting. Catrin also said Prince Peregrine had visited his mother twice in the first week. At this, Mischa, Helena and I all shared a quick look. Did he find our fair friend desirable?
Helena and Maureen had stripped the remaining paint from the throne room walls and, under the guidance of Zinnia, with input from Hinnom and his brother, proposed a mural of a stormy seascape with shark fins in honor of the king. Hinnom was amused by this and apparently telling his lords Eccleston muralists were repainting his throne room. Despite Pikestully not having the appreciation for art that Eccleston did, they were able to find white and black plant-made pitch with which to add color, as well as brushes used to paint houses. Smaller brushes were being made for them. They were able to find malachite for green, the price of which was high after the broken trade agreement with Eccleston and azurite for blue. Helena had trouble finding the ingredients for red and yellow, but for now they just needed to paint a base layer over the bluff rock and this seemed to keep both mother and daughter occupied. Mischa and I observed our friend closely, watching for signs of despair after her rape. She was busy with the mural and learning about our new life as Tintarians. But this was outward. Inwardly, I knew she suffered.
Mischa brought daily news from the office of the infantry’s general, most of it military movements that we did not understand except that a small port town in southern Tintar, called Sealmouth, was attacked under cover of night, the fishing vessels burnt or missing and half the city sacked and all of it evacuated. There was no knowledge as to what force had done this and investigative emissaries had been sent to The Flavored Three, Sibbereen, Ruskar and Vyggia. All of the Procurers had left the day of my wedding to address the raid on Sealmouth, but by now most, minus their captain, had returned, Perch not speaking to Mischa and Thatcher immediately seeking out Helena to ask how she fared, how the mural’s progress went and if she needed anything. She had told him she was well and needed nothing. I would sometimes pass either man going in or out of my husband's room. Thatcher’s door was across the hall and Perch’s to the left of Alric’s. Thatcher always gave me easy grins and a ‘good morning, Edie!’ or ‘evening, madam!’ Each time, he looked to my right and left, hoping to see Helena. Perch gave me polite nods.
At the end of the first stretch of ten days, our garments and shoes were delivered. I was ready to discard the Tintarian black dress to be laundered. In the wardrobe, I stored the winter boots, shawl, sealskin and cotton cloaks, thicker socks and the two dark green dresses for the colder seasons. I reveled in wearing a nightgown and the green dress with shorter sleeves I had selected for spring. It was a becoming deep cyan shade. I hung the sleeveless celadon green dress for summer towards the front as the days were growing warmer. I started wearing the thin leather apron with the belt and the sagaris on my days in the temple, finding the pockets handy. I took to carrying the thin journal of Gareth Pope with me everywhere, along with the mysterious skeleton key tucked inside the cover and my hagstone. I was using the small comb Alric had given me in Nyossa to mark my place in Cian’s books.
Each article of clothing was stitched with an identification that it was ours. Washing was done once a week in chambers near the baths. A group of sea and fire Tintarians made fresh water to launder and to drink, by boiling saltwater into a vapor, leaving the salt behind, that was then collected and condensed back into freshwater by cooling it. I began to see my meals and my washing being done for me for the luxury that it was and this made up for the work week. Pikestully had a more rigorous work week than Eccleston, nine of the ten days set aside for work and the tenth for rest and worship. In Eccleston, we had worked four days and rested a fifth. However, the workdays were shorter here, often ending before dinner for most. On our first day of rest, we went into Pikestully as a group of seven, in our new clothes, to the brewery in the city center where Eefa and Bronwyn were. They were already nestled in with Fletch’s family. Fletch and his amiable wife and her equally amiable sister greeted us and we were served a cider made from pears. Bronwyn was happily filling us in on life in the city, but Eefa was quiet and white-faced. Bronwyn informed us she was nauseated regularly but healthy, her pregnancy going well.
That night, Helena, Mischa, and I walked up to the turret and sat on the highest landing, looking out at the city, lights from homes and businesses dotting the skyline. We had three tin cups of a plum wine with lightleaf oil. We discussed nothing and everything. Maureen and Catrin were downstairs in the dormitory talking of girlish things. River and Quinn were invited to a late meal in Thalia’s quarters. And it felt like a night in Eccleston at one of our homes. The lightleaf made me relax. Mischa was babbling about how all the infantrymen that came through Jeremanthy’s office looked at her chest. Helena and I were collapsing into laughter. I kept turning to the other window and looking out at the sea at the five enormous jutting rocks. I wished I could bottle up that evening on the highest turret steps. It was restorative and hopeful.
40. Tryst
On two days during the second week, Cian took me to local farms outside Pikestully with farming issues. I rode on a borrowed horse from the liveries with him and Hazel. One was a dispute about unpaid taxes that while not interesting was informative and only required me to observe both Cian’s and Hazel’s gentle assurance that back taxes could be paid late as they were not that great amount owed. The second was a farm where rainwater was sitting on the soil and did not feed half of the crops grown there. The farmer was agitated. Cian pricked his right hand and placed it on the ground. I watched him pray, murmuring words I could not make out. When he stood, he told the farmer the soil was so compacted, the water could not drain. The farmer thanked him and they discussed aerating the soil with little plugs along the rows as well as treating it with peat moss to add more moisture. I continued to read and learn and observe, but my own penchant was not evident.
Towards the end of the second week, two things of note happened. Hundreds of young Tintarian men were showing up to the Shark’s Keep and subordinates of Jeremanthy were herding them into barracks and dormitories. They were squeezing into the dining hall, eating in shifts and Mischa did not know who they were. She wanted to ask Jeremanthy, who it seemed, was a reasonable employer and appreciative of her efficient scribing, but Helena and I advised her it could appear as nosy. We were still considered Ecclestonian, even if, by law, we were now Tintarian.
The second was a personal discovery. One morning, earlier than most, the sun still not up, I felt terribly sweaty from the increasingly warm nights and I made my way down to the women’s baths. In the large corridor that led to them, I saw a small door that looked like a linen closet. It had the upside-down triangle that represented Sister Sea. I pulled on the handle, but it remained shut. I returned to Alric’s room, which despite the inviting bed and containing all of my belongings, I continued to think of as his room. I collected the key hidden in Gareth’s journal from my apron. In the mornings, when bathing, I did not bother with the belt, sagaris and apron. I took a small candle from a basket of them under Alric’s desk and placed it on one of the circular candle holders I had found in his desk’s drawers. On my way out of the rooms, I lit the candle from a sconce light. I returned to the linen closet. The key worked. Behind the door was a set of steps that led downward. I descended them and found myself in a private bathing chamber that seemed out of use, despite the warm water. It was about the width and length of a horse’s stall with a lip and step that ran around the edge. The water looked to be about as deep as my waist and the ceiling was low. A shelf on one side that had once borne soap was empty. Why had Gareth Pope had a key to this? Hinnom must have given it to him. This was a place they had trysted.
A man’s guffaw startled me from the left side of the chamber. I turned and only saw the green sheen of the water, color pulled from the pool’s mosaic and cast onto the rock wall. I walked around the lip and put my ear to the wall. Men’s voices came through and I realized that this private bath abutted the men’s baths.
I left the bath, locked the door and carried on to the women’s baths. I bathed speedily that morning and returned to the room to don the belt, apron and sagaris. I had time prior to breakfast and I withdrew Gareth’s journal from the pockets. I flipped ahead of where I had been reading, him describing prayer and meditation with Keturah, the then archpriestess of earth. My eyes caught on the word ‘key,’ and I began to read.
‘He will not acknowledge me in front of others. This is not Perpatane. It may not be legal for two men to be together, but neither is it a crime that is punished regularly. This is not Perpatane where they hunt us down. Only the flagrant are condemned. Plenty of couples like us dwell together in secret in the city. Granted, they be in obscurity, but theybe. He will only kiss me in shadows. He will only touch me in darkness. When I can creep into his chambers, he suckles me in his bed, unhurried and with care. And bids me do the same to him. Then my prince tells me my seed is sweet, my mouth is a boon and that I am his heart’s blood, heat and life in his veins. Come the morn, I must slither out, hurtling down the stairwell to the barracks. He gave me the key. ‘For us,’ he said. It was a consolation for he and his father had met with a lord of Sibbereen who has a daughter of marriageable age. Tintarian royals do not marry outside of Tintar unless it is to wealthy folk from The Flavored Three. A small bath is what I will get, but that horse girl will get his ring and his babes. This entanglement is a hindrance. Keturah says I am blessed with soil and perhaps, even stone penchants. She begs me to leave the infantry and be her priest. She says the goddess moves her to sway me. And every slight from Hinnom drives me further into Mother Earth’s arms. My goddess would not turn from me as my lover does. I should dedicate my life to magic not illicit swiving and unrequited love. I should look to the newest priestess of Sister Sea as my example. She is but nineteen winters, gifted and dedicated. Her name is Thalia and she hails from some backwoods nothing town in the south. For some reason, her own family will not claim her. So she traveled to the city and demanded an audience in the temples. Her blessing is so mighty, she can draw saltwater out of thin air. It pools in her hands. This has not been done by a sea Tintarian for hundreds of winters. She is the darling of her goddess and I am the prodigal of mine. I should return and commit to Mother Earth. I never wanted to be a soldier and I never wanted this rue.’
I closed the journal. Thalia was then closer to Hinnom’s age, though she looked much older. I thought on this mystery and held sympathy for Gareth during the rest of that day, sitting in the temple’s antechamber and watching as Hazel heard complaints from farmers who all said portions of their land had grown too rocky to be raked. I did not feel guilty at my disinterest for all she did was note their names, properties and console them, promising someone from the temple would visit their farms.
Yet again, I wondered if Gareth Pope still lived, and if so, where was he?
41. Bed
I was grateful for those two windows in my husband’s room. They offered such security for me, being able to see out of the enclosure of his quarters. It had been two weeks now since my wedding. The captain had not returned from Sealmouth, even though Thatcher and Perch had. I was tempted to ask Helena to ask Thatcher if she knew when he would be back, as he continued to solicitously visit our table in the dining hall to ask after her needs. She always told him she was well. He would offer to walk her back to the dormitory after the last meal of the day and twice, she had acquiesced. I was frustrated that I badly wanted to know. Perhaps living in the man’s quarters and briefly reading his book of poetry had caused me to find him interesting. At that time, I would not admit to myself that I liked to look at his long limbs, that slash of a mouth and his stark cheekbones. Or that his roughened hands had drawn my attention time and again in Nyossa, skinning a deer, strapping his saddle to his mount or dripping with his morning prayer’s blood.
It was late afternoon. I had no intention of going to the dining hall. I was tired and lethargic. The weather was hot, summer descending on Pikestully. I had spent a day on horseback with Cian, visiting another farm. I had stolen a pair of Alric’s breeks from the wardrobe and worn them under my shift to soften the saddle’s rub, but I had removed them now. I thought that if their spring was warm, their summers must blaze. I untied my braid and combed it out. I had stripped down to just my shift and was laying on that big bed, barefoot, staring up the ceiling. And as I lazed, it occurred to me a moon and a half had passed since I had pleasured myself or been pleasured. I thought of Levi’s mouth on my skin, his honeyed words in my ear as he swived into me. But I could not think of a dead man. I would think of no man. I placed a flat hand on my stomach. Should I touch my breasts first or put my hand between my legs right away and make it quick? Did I dare do it in his bed? But now it was my bed too. Before I could decide, the door swung open.
I lurched up to see Alric in only his shortsleeved tunic and leather breeches, armor and a bedroll slung over one shoulder. I drew my legs up under me as he heaved the pack onto the floor and began to hang up the armor. I realized he did not know I was there. The white sunlight hitting my white shift had disguised me.
“Alric,” I ventured, grateful he had not walked in a moment later.
He dropped a leather scabbard and turned to me, face, as always, without expression. “Edith. Why are you not in the dining hall?”
We stared at each other.
“I am not hungry tonight.”
“I see.” He turned back to the wall with the hooks for his armor and weaponry. He continued, wordlessly, putting away his belongings. It seemed a very long silence.
Gods, I thought, can you not say something, man?
“How was— How were your travels?” I asked.
He straightened from arranging things on a lower rung and placed his hands on his hips. “The country of your birth has turned against Tintar. Perpatane prepares to go to war. Exactly why, I know not. We had every right to invade Eccleston after that trade agreement was broken and I believe Perpatane, acting as Eccleston’s ally, is using this as cause to go to war with us and gain control of the coast. They are paying other countries with gold now, something they never did. They ally themselves with other lands against us. I think your king greedy.”
Did he expect me to apologize for a country for which I had no fealty? And had not in over ten winters? “That is a tragedy,” I said. “War is tragic.”
“Yes, I agree.”
