Madam Scheffield had some 'very important, well respected friends' over for the day, and she didn't want anything to ruin the event. In other words, I wasn't welcome in the vicinity of the house for the entire day. That was why I was able to spend the day with the miller's wife in-town.
It was Sunday--the only day of the week when bustling crowds were absent from the street. While the mill stayed open for the occasional shopper not observing the rest day, it was seriously doubted any sales would be made today. Instead, she and I sat around her table and talked the day away. The shop cat, an orange tabby named Daisy, slept on my lap as I casually stroked its fur while listening to the latest gossip from the village.
"They may have to close one of the printers," the miller's wife sadly stated, "So few people here can read; there wasn't enough business for the Harper's to begin with, it would seem pretty obvious that the new one would only cause problems. Then again, they were from a village farther from the castle, maybe they weren't informed how poor of an area this close to the royal capital is."
"Well, that isn't so," I replied assuredly, "We are just closer to the nobility and the royals themselves, and thus more exploited. We are stuck since we are one of the centers of the kingdom, where all the greatest of nobles want to be--otherwise they'd never gain entrance to the King's Court and all that pomp and circumstance. I am sure if we traveled away in any direction, the only nobles we'd run into are the ones who don't care about their position so much."
"Nobles that don't care?" she laughed humorlessly, "You are dreaming my dear."
"You forget," I said, staring at her intently, "My mother was a noble."
She stared at me, open-mouthed, trying to come up with a remark to say, but never managed to do so. Instead she rose from her seat and went into her kitchen, mumbling something about getting cups of tea. While she was away, I rose from my seat, forcing the cat off my lap, and stared out the shop window that faced the main street of the village. Their was no one out--and who can blame them? Along with being a day devoted to rest, the weather was very mucky. It was overcast out, and humid--I was glad to be free of duties today. This weather was bad enough without having to work. The miller's wife found me staring out the window still, as she walked in with a tea pot and two cups.
"What is so intriguing about an empty dirt road, Norie?"
I turned and laughed softly. Sitting back in the chair, sans feline friend this time, I replied, "You know me, I find the weirdest things interesting."
She laughed at that, and then relaxed, as if a tension was released. She handed me a delicate white cup and filled it with tea, then poured some more into her own. "Pretty bad weather we are having isn't it," she then replied carelessly, I think trying to change the subject from the more touchy subject from before. I turned my head around to face the outdoors again. "Did you some people actually like this kind of weather?" Even more relived I think, at the increased relaxation of tension, she laughed some more.
She then carelessly chatted away about her cat, who would sporadically race across the room after invisible insects or the latest lace pattern she saw in a shop for more well-to-do patrons. We didn't again return to discussing the kingdom's royalty or nobility. That was, until, the miller came in, interrupting our gossiping session.
"Mattie!" he said to his wife, as he rushed into the room, "Old Tom just heard--The Prince has re-captured Espera and is returning home!"
Not as excited as her husband, though obviously happy at the news, she stated how good the it was and how exciting it will be to see the Prince and his guardsman walk the streets of the village enroute to the royal capital. However, this all mattered very little, as surprising as it may sound. For as long as I can remember, the port city had traded hands between the feuding countries at least 7 times. In a year and a half, I am sure, we'll lose it again. After her husband left to spread the 'good news', I mentioned that to my host.
"You never know," she remarked matter-of-factly, "This could be the beginning of the end this time." Then she added coyly, "At least we can see the prince. He is so handsome, you know."
"So I have heard," I casually replied, unmoved by her flattery of the royal.
"Why such distaste?" she asked, curious at my response.
"The prince is like all royals--a stuck up, arrogant fool."
"You don't know that," she softly remarked, "And why do you hate the royalty so?"
"How can you ask that?" I angrily asked, rising from my chair suddenly, "I am ordered into a life of servitude, a life of eternal hardship and suffering, without any honor and nameless, unless you count the insults I get. Must you ask why I hate the ones who did that to me!"
She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "They were just following procedure," she carefully said in a soft voice, trying to calm my rising temper, "You cannot hate them for that."
"And that is my father's fault," I venomously snapped, "And I hate him for that--more then I ever could hate the royally!"
The miller's wife stood up from her chair to face me, her facial expression full of anger. "How dare you speak of him in such a way!"
I stared at her, surprised by her outburst, but nonetheless resolved in my stand. "You make no sense," I angrily replied, "You speak highly of the royalty, and yet canonized a traitor against them!"
"You know nothing of went on the days preceding and of the assassination of the king. Don't speak as if you are all knowing of your father's acts."
"I know enough to realize who's fault it is that I am practically a slave to a woman of court, and why having a father named Nathaniel Sutter makes me the evil spawn of the kingdom. You try to walk in my shoes for a while before you criticize me, madam."
The miller's wife calmed down slightly, though I still was enraged. Her stare turned from angrily intent to motherly, and attempting to return calm, replied, "Norie, I know its hard for you to realize this, but you should be proud of your father."
"How can I be proud of him?" I exclaimed, "I never knew him!"
"Sit down," she said now stern, pointing to my chair as she herself took her seat. "Let me tell you a little bit about what happened."
I resentfully took my seat, in no mood to hear the supposed heroics of the man I despise the most. She poured more tea in my cup from the pot and pushed it towards me. After watching me take a sip of tea and relax a tad, she began her brief journey into a time I never knew.
"We all should have died the day they were hanged," she stated, which of course caught my attention. What does she mean by that, I thought, and before I could ask she answered. "It was a hard time; we were being over come in the war and the market for goods severely dropped. Everyone was financially hurting during that recession, even the king. However, since he didn't want to pull out of the war or lower his standard of living, he taxed the common people so much more to make up for the loss of revenue. Of course we couldn't pay it--we were already not even making ends-meet without the added burdens. He wouldn't relent though, and that drove us all to poverty. Can you blame us for getting upset and frustrated?" I shook my head and she took that as a sign to continue, "We protested in the streets and stopped producing food and supplies, but it never amounted to anything. So more drastic measures were taken. We all plotted the king's execution. We all wanted him dead. For months we planned it; we constructed maps of the castle's underground paths, bribed royal guardsmen, provided weapons, and even just encouraged the mission. Seven men volunteered to carry it out, and took up their swords and snuck into the castle. They managed to kill the king, to our joy, but were captured some how--that part we never found out. They were men of honor, fighting against tyranny. And it worked--the steward who presided over the kingdom since the heir was only 3 at the time, never dared to exploit the commoners to such a degree. The rest of us also were never turned in by the caught men--saving us from repercussions. They were good, decent people who gave their lives to help us."
I knew she was trying to move me with a passionate speech of the good deeds of these people. But it didn't work. I didn't see heroics, I saw stupidity, and look what good it did for me. "If you call them heroes, why do you support the royalty the rebelled against?" I asked, trying to find a hole in her story.
"I only am doing what it takes to survive. If that means accepting royalty rule over me, then so be it. So, no I am not a freedom fighter like your father was, if that is what you are implying."
"But its okay for other people to die for you," I sarcastically replied.
"Nora Sutter!" she exclaimed, "your mother would never approve of such disrespect!"
"Maybe you have forgotten, madam," I angrily retorted, "But my mother is dead, no thanks to the actions of rebels like you and my father!" I rose from my seat, and turned to leave.
"Your mother was just as much of a supporter of the rebellion as I was," she called after me, which stopped me in my tracks. I stared at her with disbelief. After seeing that she got my attention back, replied calmly from her seat at the table, "Until the day of his death, she stood by your father. To the day she herself died, she never condemned your father, nor blamed him for her situation. She had the same beliefs as the rest of us and was proud that your father was brave enough to help bring it to pass. She would have followed him to the gallows if she wasn't carrying you at the time."
"I don't believe you," I answered, remembering countless nights of seeing my mother weep while staring into the night sky. I knew she had the same feelings of hopelessness and anger as I. She only talked well of my father to make me love the man I would never know. Well, it didn't work--I saw through it all. How could a miller's wife know fully of what my mother gave up? My thoughts were racing as I walked out of the miller's shop and into the abandoned streets. It still was the afternoon, so I couldn't return home. I then walked onto the edge of the village where it and the forest met. Sitting under a giant tree, I placed my head in my hands and cried. Not because I missed my mother (though I did) or because I suddenly loved my father (because I didn't). No, it was because I knew that I lost one of my only friends and felt so alone. And it was all my father's fault.