Читать книгу Lara: Book One of the World of Hetar - Bertrice Small - Страница 8

SUSANNA WAS RELIEVED when her husband told her of Lara’s reaction. She thought to herself that if she had been in Lara’s position she would be very unhappy. But then the girl was half faerie. Who knew what she really felt? Susanna was glad that her stepdaughter would soon be gone. She was but five years older than John’s daughter. She was young enough that she didn’t want to share her husband with his beautiful child. But Lara had been so sweet and welcoming when she had married the girl’s father that she was unable to be unkind, and could find no fault with her. Indeed, they were almost friends, odd as that seemed.

The next morning when John had gone out to see Bevin the swordsmith, Susanna called Lara to her. “Will you help me choose the fabric for your father’s application clothing, and sew them with me? I cannot embroider half as well as you can, and your stitches are so fine as to be invisible.”

“What will you do when I am not here to help you with your sewing?” Lara half teased her stepmother.

“What?” For a moment Susanna looked confused by her stepdaughter’s words. Then Lara quickly said, “Will we return to the mercer today?”

“I think we must if we are to have your father’s garments ready in time,” Susanna said with a bright smile. “Now tell me which of the fabrics we saw last you favored?”

“My father’s eyes are gray, and I think he must have a silver brocade. Silver brocade and sky-blue silk would suit him,” Lara answered her stepmother.

“You did not like the gold brocade?” Susanna sounded disappointed.

“The gold was very fine, but perhaps a bit vulgar?” Lara replied thoughtfully. “I thought the silver more elegant with Da’s eyes, ash-brown hair and fine features.”

“Yes,” Susanna reconsidered. Lara’s instincts for fashion had always impressed her, considering the girl hardly ever left the Quarter. Yet she always knew what was right. It was very annoying at times, but still, best to listen to her. “Then the silver brocade it is,” she agreed. “Run and ask Mistress Mildred if she will watch Mikhail today for if she will not we must have him with us. Take her one of the fresh loaves I baked early this morning.”

Lara took the still-warm loaf and put it in a small market basket. Then she hurried to the hovel next to theirs where Mistress Mildred, a widow, lived with her son, Wilmot. “Susanna has sent you a nice warm loaf,” she called out as she entered the room. “She wonders if you can watch Mikhail again today. We are going to the mercer’s to purchase cloth for Da’s application garments.”

“So it’s true then,” the old woman said, coming forward and taking the loaf from the basket. “He’s going to enter the tourney. Well, I’ll be sorry to see you all go. He has been a good neighbor, and his mother before him. Where did he get the coin for such an expensive undertaking?”

“Are you so certain Da will win a place in the Crusader Knights?” Lara replied, avoiding the query neatly.

“Of course he’ll win!” Mistress Mildred said. “He’s the finest swordsman in the land, child. Did your grandmother not always say it? And everyone else?”

“Then you’ll watch Mikhail?” Lara gently pressed her.

“I’ll be over in just a few moments,” Mistress Mildred responded, and Lara was swiftly gone out the door.

Warning Susanna of the old lady’s curiosity, she and her stepmother were quickly on their way as soon as Mistress Mildred stepped into the hovel.

“We’ll not be too long,” Susanna promised.

“Take your time,” Mistress Mildred called after them. “Remember you must choose the right fabrics and colors for your man if he is to make a good impression.”

They left the Quarter and traveled through the City to the Merchants Quarter where the mercers were to be found. Why they should be recognized Lara never understood, but they obviously were as soon as they stepped over the threshold of the first shop. The mercer oozed with goodwill. His apprentices tumbled over one another to unroll bolts of fabric for Susanna. They snuck looks at Lara from beneath their lashes. The bargain struck between John Swiftsword and Gaius Prospero was publicly known now, for the Master of the Merchants was already seeking to drum up interest among the owners of the Pleasure Houses.

They looked at what the first mercer had to offer, and then moved on to two more shops, but Lara was not satisfied with the quality of fabrics being shown. Her grandmother had once been in the service of a magnate’s wife as a seamstress. She had passed her knowledge of fabrics on to her only grandchild. And when they were in the Quarter’s market square she had also instructed Lara in the fine art of bargaining. Susanna, a country girl, was not good at haggling for she had never had any experience in it as her father’s daughter, and Lara still did most of the marketing for the household.

Walking on, they almost missed a small shop squeezed between two larger and more ostentatious ones. Susanna was not inclined to enter, for it looked a poor place with its dirty window, and a door that hung, but barely, from a single hinge. However, Lara gently insisted that until they found the perfect fabrics no establishment, even one so unfortunate looking, could be overlooked.

“You are probably right,” she told her stepmother, “but we must look anyway.”

The inside of the shop looked little better than the outside. It was dim and dusty, but when the ancient mercer hobbled forward Lara’s instincts told her they had come to the right place. “We are looking for silver brocade,” she said.

“I have precisely what you seek,” the mercer replied politely. His voice was strong for one whose limbs were so frail. Reaching up, he brought a bolt of fabric off a shelf and unfurled it on the counter before their eyes. The silk brocade was cloth of silver, and its raised design was of sky-blue velvet. The quality was excellent, the finest they had seen this morning.

“It’s perfect!” Lara breathed, turning to her stepmother. “Isn’t it perfect?” She fingered the beautiful material.

“I have never seen anything so fine,” Susanna agreed softly.

The old mercer smiled slyly, showing his worn and yellowed teeth. “It would make an applicant for the tourney more than presentable, my ladies. And I have a fine, matching blue silk that would sew up nicely into a pair of more than elegant trunk hose.”

“And velvet for a cap?” Lara said quietly.

The mercer nodded. “And I know where you can obtain an excellent selection of plumes.” The twinkle in his eyes was not quite human. His gaze met Lara’s for a long moment while Susanna was murmuring over the cloth. Then he looked at her chain and its star, and nodded. “Ilona’s star,” he whispered.

“You knew my mother?” Lara murmured softly.

“Once, long ago,” was the reply. “Like you, I am half faerie, though few live today who would know my heritage.” Then he was all business once again. “Will you take the brocade, lady?” he asked Susanna.

She nodded. “And the silk and the velvet as well.”

“You have not asked the price,” he said.

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.”

Susanna almost dropped her packages. “How shall I ever make a gown for myself that will not shame your father?” she began to fret. “I know little of the mighty.”

“I will help you,” Lara told her stepmother.

“Perhaps we should return to the feather merchant tomorrow, and obtain that white plume for my hair,” Susanna responded.

Lara swallowed her laughter. “I think perhaps a little less ostentation, stepmother, would serve you best. You must appear an elegant and proper young matron.”

“It is true,” Susanna worried aloud. “My appearance will be judged as well as your father’s, and yours.”

“Exactly!” Lara said. “So if you appear in too much finery it makes you look gauche and overproud. It would not, I suspect, sit well with the women whose husbands and fathers are Crusader Knights. Modest but fashionable is what you must be.”

When they returned to the hovel they found Mistress Mildred with a very hungry Mikhail. Susanna immediately put her son to her bosom, realizing as she did so that her breasts were quite full. Their old neighbor was filled with curiosity, and Lara assuaged it by unwrapping the beautiful brocade, the silk and the velvet for her to see. Mistress Mildred touched the fabrics reverently and nodded. Satisfied, she told Susanna that Mikhail was a very good child, and she would stay with him whenever needed in these next busy months. Susanna thanked her, and Mistress Mildred went home to her own hovel, where her son would be expecting his dinner.

John Swiftsword returned home after sunset to find his own dinner awaiting him on the hearth. He told them of his search this day for a good warhorse with the help of an old Crusader Knight, to whom he had been introduced by Rafe the armorer. “We may have found one out at a Midlands farm today. He’s four years old, and has had a good year of combat training,” John said excitedly. “I rode him for a time, and we seemed to become friends. Sir Ferris says a man must feel kinship with his beast. We will go back tomorrow, and arrange to buy Aristaeus.” He was very happy, happier than he had ever been in all his life. “What did you two do today?” he asked them.

“We went to find the perfect material for your garments,” Susanna said. “I do not know what I would have done without Lara. Her taste is frankly better than mine, and she signed all the receipts, thus saving me the embarrassment of admitting I cannot read or write. We found the perfect feather for the cap we will make you. Lara visited Gaius Prospero, and then we came home,” Susanna concluded.

John Swiftsword turned to his daughter. “You went to Gaius Prospero? Why?” He was still troubled by what he had done, but Lara, it seemed, was not in the least unhappy at the future ahead of her.

“I wanted to know if I might go to the tourney to see you win, Da. And I wanted to know if Susanna could speak to me of men and women. He is my master now, Da. I believed I needed his permission. He seemed well pleased that I came to ask him.”

John nodded. “You were right to go to Gaius Prospero,” he said slowly.

“He says I am to have a beautiful gown, and that he will send two litters that day. Susanna, Mikhail and I are to sit in his private box at the tourney, Da. Tomorrow Susanna and I will begin the process of fashioning your application garments. You will wear the most glorious brocade, Da!” Lara told him.

He could not bear it. His beautiful golden child would shortly be gone from him, and he did not know if he would ever see her again.

“Go to bed now, Lara,” Susanna said softly, and the girl arose, kissing them both, and disappeared into the tiny chamber she shared with her baby brother. “She is content, John,” Susanna said to her husband. “She looks forward to her future.”

“She has no idea of what awaits her,” he groaned. “She is so innocent. Her whole life she has lived here in the Quarter, rarely venturing out until now. How can she envision a future she cannot possibly understand?”

Susanna sighed. “You underestimate Lara, John. Your mother taught her a great deal more than how to keep a house and sew. You should have seen her today. I should have had little success without her. I was frankly intimidated by those with whom I was forced to traffic. Not Lara. She has the bearings of a young queen. The mercers actually deferred to her. She has a certain assured quality about her they recognized even as they recognized my hesitancy.

“And she treated me with such great and public respect, husband, suggesting I wait in the fresh air while she concluded our transactions. And knowing with the certain instinct that she has suddenly displayed that she should go to Gaius Prospero. And she wasn’t one bit frightened. When I first took her to him I was terrified, but not your daughter. And not today. Nay, John, Lara knows precisely what she is doing, and you need feel no guilt in having sold her so you might have your chance. She has no regrets.”

“What will you tell her of men and women?” he asked his wife.

Susanna laughed. “Now, husband, sooner or later this conversation between your daughter and me would have had to be voiced. I know what to say. She will know what she needs to know, and learn the rest as her life moves forward. Now tell me about this Sir Ferris you met today.”

“Sir Ferris Ironshield,” John began, “is one of the oldest and most respected of the Crusader Knights. He is sixty, wife, and still active. He is a client of the armorer’s, and Rafe asked him if he would be interested in helping me. We met today outside the City on the road to a Midlands horse farm, but before he would take me on he said he had to test my mettle with the sword for which I have earned my fame. He warned me not to hold back, but to fight my best. He’s the finest opponent I have come up against in years, but I beat him, Susanna. He laughed and said my reputation was justly come by, and he would be happy to sponsor me, for it seems I must have a sponsor’s name upon the application. I have so much to learn, wife!”

“And you will,” she encouraged him. “So you found your horse?”

“Aye. And while I am good with a sword and a spear, my skills with the axe and the mace need work. Sir Ferris says we will work on them over the next few months.”

“Then all is as it should be now, husband,” Susanna replied.

It was autumn and as the days lengthened Lara and her stepmother began the process of creating and sewing the garments that John Swiftsword would wear on the day of the applications for entrance to the rank of tournament goers. Lara carefully cut her father’s tunic out from the beautiful silver brocade they had purchased. Then she cut the trunk hose from the sky blue silk. Only then did they begin the sewing. Susanna carefully stitched together the hose, taking her time, and working hard to make her stitches as fine as Lara’s. An impossibility, she decided, but she tried anyway. Little Mikhail sat on the floor of the hovel playing with pieces of discarded material, and quite content to do so. He was his father’s son in all ways.

Lara had returned to the old mercer’s shop twice to purchase other materials as she considered how she would decorate her father’s tunic. She had also found a lovely lilac cloth for Susanna’s gown, which she would make only after the tunic was done. She had designed the tunic with a round neckline. Around it she sewed a wide band of cloth of silver she had embroidered with gold, silver and dark blue threads. She then added tiny gold and silver beads. The small straight opening in the neckline gave way to a short stretch of the same embroidery down the front of the tunic. The garment was slit on either side and the slits, as well as the hem of the tunic, were decorated with identical embroidery, which also curled about the cuffs of the full sleeves. Lara also made a wide embroidered belt to hang low on the garment. It was a labor of love that took weeks to accomplish. While she toiled over the tunic, Susanna made her husband’s trunk hose, and the velvet cap with the hawk’s feather he would wear. She had also gone to the cobbler and had a pair of soft leather shoes with turned-back cuffs made along with a pair of fine leather boots for her husband. Lara took the shoes and embroidered their cuffs to match her father’s tunic.

And then to their surprise, one day Sir Ferris Ironshield arrived at the door of their hovel. “I have come to inspect the application garments,” he said in his gruff voice.

“My husband is not here,” Susanna said nervously.

“Of course he isn’t!” Sir Ferris growled. “He is on the practice field where I left him with Sir Ajax and Sir Iven. He has improved tremendously under our tutelage, mistress. I have no doubt that in a few weeks he will be one of us.”

“Come in, sir,” Lara beckoned, giving her stepmother a moment to recover. “I will fetch Da’s garments, which we have completed only yesterday.”

“Yes,” Susanna finally found her tongue. “May I offer you a bit of cider, Sir Ferris, while Lara brings my husband’s clothing?” She ushered him to the bench by the fire. “Sit down, please.” She bustled to pour the cider into her best wooden cup, and handed it to him quickly.

He drank it appreciatively. “It has been a long time since I have visited the Quarter,” he noted. “Nothing here seems to change, I fear. It is still a poor place, and I hear the Mercenary’s Guild is now taking a fee from its men to provide them with work. Shameful, but what can you expect with so much of their custom going to nonmembers?”

“I did not know,” Susanna said softly.

“Nay, I expect your man would keep it from you. Well, not to fret, mistress. You’ll soon be ensconced in the Garden District where you belong.”

“Here are my da’s garments, sir,” Lara said as she brought forth the tunic, and held it out for him to see. “The trunk hose are sky-blue silk, and my stepmother will fetch his cap that you may see it.”

Sir Ferris carefully looked over everything they displayed to his view. The tunic was quite magnificent, and the shoe cuffs were a nice touch. The application officers would be very impressed. Without a doubt it was the garment of a Crusader Knight. When he saw the velvet cap Susanna showed him, he nodded with a pleased smile. “Excellent, mistress. And you have been wise enough to avoid those damned white plumes almost every applicant feels he needs to put in his cap. The hawk’s feather is elegant, and most manly. John Swiftsword would stand out with just the cap alone.” He stood up. “You have done well, and I am content that with a good performance on the field John Swiftsword will soon become a Crusader Knight. I thank you for the cider.” Then with a stiff little bow to them both, he departed the hovel.

“Imagine,” Susanna finally managed to say, “he came to us. He must really like your father and think well of him. I am so proud. When we are settled in our new home I shall ask him and his two friends to dine with us.”

“I must begin your gown tomorrow,” Lara said.

“You would not show me the material you obtained,” Susanna complained. “Will you show it to me now?”

Lara laughed. “Very well, but you must swear you will trust me to make the gown for you.”

“I am in your hands,” Susanna chuckled. “Now show me the fabric!”

Lara went to the chest on the far side of the room and lifted out a carefully wrapped packet. Bringing it to the table she undid it, and Susanna gasped.

“It’s too beautiful,” she cried. “I am not worthy of such loveliness!”

“It is perfect,” Lara said. “I have planned a simple design, for a more elaborate garment would not be suitable for an applicant’s wife.”

“But the fabric itself…” Susanna held it up and against her. The lilac silk had a shimmering and iridescent quality to it. It was quite unique.

“The fabric,” Lara told her stepmother, “is perfect with your dark brown hair and eyes. And your skin has a lovely rosy glow to it. When I saw it I knew it was for you.”

Susanna began to cry, and Lara snatched the material from her lest her tears stain the fabric. “I wish you didn’t have to leave us,” she said, and thought for the first time that she actually meant it.

“My fate isn’t with you and Da,” Lara replied. “I do not know where it will be, but I know it isn’t with you. Perhaps that is my faerie blood speaking.”

And then the winter was over and Lara celebrated her fifteenth birthday with the spring. The day of the applications was upon them. Her father had risen early, and Susanna with him. He had bathed himself completely in the wooden tub, not just his body, but his hair as well. Susanna had shaved his handsome face smooth, being careful not to nick and bloody her husband. She called for Lara to come and put the tunic on her father when he was garbed in his sky-blue trunk hose, and the dark blue shirt whose sleeves would show from beneath the tunic.

Together Lara and Susanna drew the tunic over John’s head. The garment fell, and Lara carefully closed the little silver frogs at the neckline. She stood back and smiled, pleased. “Da, you have never looked so grand. Sir Ferris told us that these are the garments of a Crusader Knight, and he was surely right.” Fastening the embroidered belt about the tunic, she knelt and fitted the soft leather shoes to her father’s feet.

Susanna handed her husband his velvet cap. He placed it on his head, drawing it to one side, and the hawk’s feather jutted jauntily. He strutted about the hovel proudly, and then turning to his wife and daughter he said, “Thank you.”

Lara went to the door of the hovel and unbarred it.

“Go now,” Susanna said. “When you return I will have a meal for you.”

He strode from the dwelling, and when he was out of sight Susanna turned to speak to her stepdaughter, but Lara was nowhere to be found. Susanna chuckled. Her stepdaughter, she had not a doubt, had followed her father that she might stand in the crowd in the City’s main square and watch John Swiftsword as he made his application to the tournament of the Crusader Knights, and was formally and publicly accepted. She was entitled to this little triumph, Susanna thought generously, for it was Lara’s sacrifice that had made this all possible.

Lara had snatched up a dark cloak so that she might remain anonymous as she hurried through the streets. Already the citizens were gathering to witness this rare event. Reaching the square she pushed herself to the front of the crowds, but no one seemed to mind. Her slender form was no more than a breeze as it brushed by them all. She saw her father standing in the long line that already stretched halfway across the square. Listening, she heard comments of the onlookers. They seemed to know most of the applicants either by name or by reputation.

John Swiftsword felt his heart pumping with excitement. Looking about him he decided that he was the best dressed of all the applicants, and he smiled at the prevalence of white plumes. Susanna had told him the story of shopping at the feather merchant’s, and Sir Ferris’s comment when he had visited the hovel. He tried to calm himself for the interview ahead. He didn’t want to sound like a bumbling idiot. It wasn’t just the honor of belonging to this order that thrilled him, it was the opportunity to truly serve Hetar.

The Crusader Knights were retained by the High Council as a deterrent against savages and chaos. They had always been, and they would always be. While there had been no great wars in many years, and Hetar was a peaceful kingdom, only the presence of the Crusader Knights protected Hetar from those in the Outlands. The Outlanders were barbarians with no rule of law, and he often wondered why the Celestial Actuary had created them at all.

The sun rose over the square, and the chill of the spring morning was warmed by its rays. Then suddenly John Swiftsword found himself facing a Crusader Knight, and his attempt to step into a better world began.

The knight behind the table looked him over very carefully. “Name?” he barked.

“John Swiftsword of the Mercenary Guild.” Was his voice squeaking?

The Crusader nodded and wrote it down. Then he said, “Turn about, please.”

John swung around slowly.

“Appearance, excellent,” the Crusader Knight said, and checked off a small box on the parchment application. “Place of origin?”

“The Midlands.”

“Father’s occupation?”

“Farmer.”

“How long a mercenary?”

“Since age fifteen.”

“Your age now?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Married?”

“Yes.”

“Children?”

“Two.”

“Have you sired sons or daughters?”

“A son with my wife, and a daughter with a Faerie woman,” he replied.

“And you desire more sons?”

“Aye!”

“Who is your sponsor, John Swiftsword?” the Crusader Knight asked.

“Sir Ferris Ironshield,” he replied. His throat was getting dryer by the minute.

“Any secondaries?”

“Sir Ajax and Sir Iven.”

“First battle skill?”

“The sword,” was the proud reply.

“Secondary skills?” the Crusader Knight demanded sharply.

“Lance, mace and axe.” Was that sweat running down his back?

“You are a talented soldier,” the Crusader Knight said with a small smile. “Your application is accepted by the tournament committee, John Swiftsword. What colors will you wear when you fight?”

“Green and gold,” John said. Green for Lara’s eyes, and gold for her hair. He would honor his daughter in this fashion.

The Crusader Knight marked it down on the application, and then wrote in large letters across the face of the parchment, ACCEPTED. “I shall look forward to seeing you on tournament day. You will draw a number now to determine the day upon which you will do battle.” He held out a velvet bag to the applicant.

John plunged his hand into the bag and drew out a tile. He handed it to the Crusader Knight. “It says one,” he noted.

“Then you fight on the first day. That is good. You will have time to rest up for the final battle. Congratulations! Step aside. Next!”

He stepped away from the table half-dazed, and walked into the crowds pressing in about the square. Suddenly he felt a small hand slip into his, and he knew at once it was his daughter’s. “Were you able to see?” he asked, not even bothering to look at her.

“I was right up front, Da. You looked so lordly, and your voice was so strong and sure. I was very proud. I’m sorry Mikhail wasn’t old enough to see this day, but you will tell him about it when he is, won’t you?”

“Aye, lass, I will. And I will tell him of his half faerie sister whose beauty made it all possible,” John Swiftsword said softly. “I have not said it before, Lara. Thank you.” Then stopping, he bent and kissed her smooth forehead.

“I am not unhappy, Da. I know my mother broke your heart. But the beauty I have inherited from her will atone for her sin, and we will both begin new lives. I am happy.”

“You are certain of that, Lara? I could not bear if you were unhappy. Aye, Ilona broke my heart, but your loving sweetness has healed my hurt long since.”

“I am happy, Da, I swear it! And besides,” she teased him, “it is too late to go back now, for I doubt the mercer would accept your tunic in exchange for his cloth.”

He laughed. Lara could always wheedle him from the deepest doldrums, and he had been very torn over these last months. He had fretted like an old woman, but now he must release all his crochets and fears. Lara was right. It was much too late to go back. He must clear his mind and heart of all darkness. In six days the tourney would begin. And while everyone was certain that he would win his place among the finalists, nothing in life, John Swiftsword knew, was ever a certainty.