Chapter Five

As I had promised Sir Foxwood, the next break in shifts I had, I walked through the gardens behind the inn. I was nearly overwhelmed by the perfectly sweet scent of the perfumed air. I wanted nothing more than to sit on one of the shaded benches, close my eyes, and breathe. To my right and left were rose bush gardens, with bird cherry trees providing shade. Young couples were walking leisurely amongst the bushes, occasionally bending to smell a particularly beautiful rose. Continuing along the main path, I noticed that other paths joined the one I was walking on to lead to more gardens. I chose to make a turn at the one with small violets clustered around the entrance. Further down the path, the violets gave way to morning glories ranging in color from blushing pink to soft blue to icy lavender. Though temped to snap one off of a stem and place it in my hair, I resisted and only gazed at them in wonder.

The path ended at a circle of English oak trees that provided cool shade for creeping buttercups and woodland anemone flowers. In the very center of the ring of trees was a stone bench that shone with dazzling sunlight, coming through the opening in the foliage of the great oak trees. It was so peaceful and quiet here that even the birds only dared to chirp every once and a while. However, the peace was broken by the unmistakable sound of a woman shrieking.

"Put him out! I don't care who he is! He hasn't got a coin to his name so he hasn't the right to touch me!"

Ever curious, I crossed the circle and came through on the other side. There was a low stone wall just visible through the thick branches of boxwood bushes, and if I jumped up a bit, I could faintly make out the end of a sign that read "…Tavern." Sir Foxwood's land extended all the way back to the other side of town? The other side of town…The Scurvy Dog! I gasped in excitement and began thinking of ways to get over the wall. Scanning the length of the wall, I caught sight of a sturdy-looking rowan tree and climbed far enough up so that I could stretch over to sit atop the wall, which was low enough for me to not fear for my life. Nearly trembling with anticipation, I managed to jump down from the wall intact and take in the sight of "the wrong side of town."

It seemed as though there was action on every corner, and though dirty and grimy, the streets had a certain vitality to them that the other side of town did not. Pickpockets and tricksters, pirates and their armorists called these streets home, or at least a resting place. My eyes were rounded as wide as they could go so that I could catch every little detail. I wanted to remember the little old man sitting on the curb outside of the Scurvy Dog Tavern, apparently too drunk to stand. I wanted to remember the shrieking woman in the scarlet and black dress chasing a stumbling man in tattered clothes out of Lady Anne's. I wanted to remember what looked like a sword fight about to take place.

These were all negative images of liars and cheats and sinners, but I wanted to remember them anyway. I had never seen such things in my life. It seemed as though I was looking at an entirely different world. Just steps outside of a peaceful garden lay this…

Hurrying across the street, I made my way to the Scurvy Dog. Feeling a bit unsure of myself, I took a deep breath, pushed the door open…and nearly choked on the thick scent of tobacco in the air. It seemed as if every man had a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pipe in the other. Despite the fact that it was only some time around five o'clock, it was very dim inside the tavern. So dim, in fact, that it took a while for me to readjust my eyes.

"Ay gel! Just gonna stand there 'n block the doorway, are ye?" a gravelly voice growled behind me.

Wisely making no response, I moved out of the way and into the shadows, where I stood, just watching. The men sitting at the bar had taken to singing a rather bawdy song, sloshing their drinks out of their glasses without a care. The barmaid looked quite annoyed, but she put on a false smile as one of the men urged her to sing along.

I grinned slightly and turned away from the bar, searching for a place to sit. As my eyes roamed the tavern, my ears caught snatches of conversation.

"So I says to him, I says: have at it then!" one man said, banging his fist on the table for emphasis.

"And what did 'ee do Jim?" the other asked.

"Well, 'ee ran at me wif 'is sword, he did," Jim answered in a matter of fact tone. "An he cut off me hand, but not before I plunged me own sword through his whole body five times. He was cuttin' off me hand as 'ee was fallin' to the groun'."

"Wha…? But your hand is on your wrist!"

"Aye, a hand is on me wrist."

"It aint yours?"

"Nay. It's a fake 'un."

"Fake, aye? Give it here!"

"Hey! Hey! Wait just one minute Tom!"

I was nearly shaking with laughter as Jim scrambled for a reason not to show Tom his "fake" hand. The whole story had obviously been made up as it made no sense whatsoever. I spotted one last seat at the corner of the bar and inconspicuously slid towards it. The man beside me was staring into the bottom of his glass, swirling the last dregs of ale absent-mindedly. He did not even spare me a single glance. In the dim candlelight I could barely determine what he looked like and how old he was. He was a youngish man, but his hands and face were weathered by the sun and salt. His long, dark hair was pulled back by a thin leather thong and it hung, falling in curls past his shoulders. I did not realize I was staring at him unabashedly, and gave a little start when he abruptly swiveled to face me, fixing me with a set of deep, brown eyes.

"Sorry," I muttered with a blush, and he turned away without saying anything.

Taking my cue from him, my eyes began to roam the rest of the tavern, and my ears began to filter through the many loud and raucous conversations.

"A whale, it was, bigger 'n this here tavern!"

" Shark, just bit 'im in half!"

"Fifty pounds of gold, all lost to Davey Jones' locker."

"Ah, well you know what they say: a woman on board's the worst luck of all."

"No, no, you don't get scurvy if you've got lemons or limes or summat on board."

I was so caught up in absorbing the world around me that I didn't notice when someone sidled up next to me.

"A little out of place, aren't you?" a man growled in a voice thick with a hard life and hard drinking and smoking. I looked at his face and suppressed a shudder.

He had eyes of forever; black holes that leeringly squinted at me out of the face of a street rat. His hair was not neatly tied back; it stuck out wildly from his head in every different direction, like a menacing salt-and-pepper cloud. His face seemed to have bits and pieces missing from it, making him all the more grotesque.

"Now that you mention it, yes, I think I am, I'll just be going…now," I said quickly, stumbling over my words as I hopped down from the barstool. "Free seat!"

His hand clamped down on my wrist. "Not so fast, dark one."

"Let me go!" I hissed.

"Make me," he breathed in my face. I gagged at the fan of hot, reeking breath. He was grinning at me now, a smile of broken yellow teeth. I wrenched my wrist out of his grasp and hit him across the face, quickly running for the tavern door.

I heard a howl of pain. "Ayi! Me nose! The moor girl's broke me nose! Ten pence to any bloke that catches 'er!"

Shite! How do I get myself in these predicaments?

I swung the door open as hard as I could, letting it smack whoever was behind me full in the face. As I ran into the street, I chanced a look behind me and saw that there were at least four young men following my trail. Thankfully, they were all in different stages of inebriation or intoxication, and were probably not on top running form. However, they were still pretty close to me.

"Lookit 'er run for it!" one howled.

The stone wall was within sight…all I needed was a way to get over it. Praying on every one of my lucky stars, I stopped at the wall and waited until the four men reached me.

"Hello, boys," I smiled.

They looked confusedly at each other and then back at me.

"Get her," the tallest one growled. I locked my eyes onto him and did not let him out of my sights, he would work nicely.

In a flash they all lunged for me, but I danced just out of reach, appearing behind them. "Ready?" I yelled, taking a running start to jump on the tallest one's back. I then went into a frenzy, pulling hair, pinching, kicking, and punching.

"Agh! Gerroff! Gerroff!" he yelled. Every time one of his friends got close, though, I would begin to flail wildly while still keeping myself firmly on his back. Eventually, he had to resort to slamming me against the stone wall. The wind was nearly knocked out of me, but I kept my wits about me long enough to use the wall to push myself up so that my hands were gripping the ledge and my feet were on his shoulders.

"Thanks, mate," I breathed, pushing off of his shoulders and catapulting myself over the wall.

Time seemed to slow as I fell to the grass below. If I thought the wind had been knocked out of me before, I was surely wrong. As I hit the ground, the world exploded behind my eyes in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. I felt as if my ribs had caved in over my lungs and my spine had disintegrated, leaving me like a blob of jelly lying in the dirt. I tried to cry out in pain, but my voice would not come. My mouth opened in silent agony, and I slowly rolled onto my stomach, trying to release a scream that would not come into the dirt. The young men's voices began to fade into the distance.

"She's mental!"

"So what do we do now?"

"I aint jumpin' over that wall. That's rich man Foxwood's property, that is!"

"Aye, let the darkie get hanged for tresspassin!"

I don't know how long I lay there, alternately still and trembling, but the shadows cast by the trees had moved a considerable distance by the time I was sure I had broken no bones. I was sure that my break was over by now. Slowly, gingerly, I got to my feet and begun the long walk back to the kitchens. And what had I earned from my little trip to the Scurvy Dog? Nothing!

The violets and morning glories that had once been so lively and enchanting seemed to droop with my sadness as I trudged along the trail. Just as luck would have it, as I was almost close to the kitchen door, I was met by Susanna, a waif of a girl who had never liked me. So much for being unseen. She cut her eyes at me and opened her mouth with a self-righteous air, but I interrupted her.

"I'm not in the mood, Susanna," I rasped. "So just save it."

"I know your little secret," she hissed.

"What the devil are you talking about?"

Her little body was shaking with both fear and excitement. "You and Sir Foxwood. I know you've been sneakin' around with 'im."

"Susanna, you don't have the faintest idea what you're speaking of. Just let me go inside and save yourself the embarrassment," I said with as much disdain as I could manage.

"You trollop! You've probably been to the apothecary, haven't you?"

"You've no right to go calling―"

"Stay away from him," she growled. "He's mine! Ye hear me? Mine!"

"I don't want him, he doesn't want me, and he most certainly doesn't want you. Calm―"

But she had already drawn her hand back and slapped me across the face.

"Strumpet! Go back to whatever brothel you crawled out of."

I may have been weak at that moment, but I certainly wasn't going to stand for that! The sensible thing to do would have been to call for Midge, but no one had ever accused me of being sensible. Before I knew what I was doing, Susanna was under me and my hand was around her throat.

"Take it back," I panted.

She shook her head, eyes wide with fear.

"Take it―"

Strong hands gripped me around my waist and I flailed wildly, demanding to be put down. I turned around to face Sir Foxwood, looking as angry and red-faced as I had ever seen a man. Susanna turned over on her side and coughed pathetically.

"What is the meaning of this?" he ground out, staring from one of us to the other.

"She slapped me! I swear I―"

"She choked me! She's a heathen―"

He held his hand up and signaled for us to shut our mouths. "You're both lucky all of the guests are in the interior dining room for tea, or you'd be sacked on the spot." He turned to me and his voice took on a somewhat gentler tone. "Oribelle, explain what happened."

Susanna, who had since gotten to her feet, looked incredulously from me to Sir Foxwood. "I knew it!" she hissed and stalked off towards the servants' quarters without a backwards glance.

I looked at my feet, knowing how I must look with dirt and grass stains all over my shift, my hair a mess of curls, and a deep red bruise forming on my left cheek. I didn't have to look up to know that Sir Foxwood ran his hand through his hair when he gave a deep sigh.

"Miss Roberts?"

Shite. "Aye?"

"I told you when I hired you, I did not want to put you out, but if you're causing problems―"

My head shot up. "Oh it's automatically the moor's fault, aint it?"

"I would never call you a―"

"But you're thinkin' it!" I cried, looking defiantly into his eyes. "I didn't start anything with Susanna! She approached me! She accused me of…things I don't want to repeat."

His cornflower blue eyes searched mine for a few moments before he spoke again, this time in a voice barely above a whisper. "What did she say? What did Susanna accuse you of?"

All at once I noticed how close we were standing to each other. One of his hands was on my shoulder and the other was circled loosely around my wrist. My eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know? Not going to believe me anyway, are you?"

I stormed away, following Susanna's path.

Thanks to all my reviewers!

Imogenhm, Malista, Lil' Fairy Aerie'z In Lov, and Impressed.

Impressed: Sorry, there's no Snow White planned for this story as of yet, but perhaps she'll make an appearance when I work out all the kinks of the plot.

More reviews please!

(Sorry it's been so long)