Eve's Magical Adventure
Chapter 2: Sir Apprentice Baker
The girl with the twin blonde braids hurried across the cobblestones, keeping the bundles she held close to her body so that she would not bump the other citizens she passed along the street. A few of them noticed her and offered her a smile or a wave, and some a greeting; mostly, however, the people were conversing and sometimes arguing quite animatedly.
Everyone is still talking about it. It is a big step, but I think a good one for this town, she thought as she hurried along.
"There you are, child!" came the voice of the motherly baker. She came forward, her floury rolling pin still in her hands.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Patty," Espella replied as she stepped through the bakery entrance, her skirt brushing the arrangement of loaves set out for display. "Everyone is still talking about the meeting two days ago and it was hard to finish my shopping quickly." She busied herself with some dough as the baker put away the items she had brought back.
"All the customers were talking about it, too," Patty agreed. "It is the talk of the town."
"Then I stopped by the old courthouse to see Eve."
The elder woman's voice floated up the steps of the underground pantry. "I'm surprised you weren't gone longer, then. Was she not there?"
"No-o…" the young woman replied hesitantly, as if wondering how she should proceed. She left the dough unattended while she idly traced her finger in the flour on the counter.
The baker thumped up the steps once more, her eyebrows lowered and a dangerous little smile on her face. "What happened, Espella? Those two rogues did not accost you again, did they?!"
"Oh no, no, no. Nothing like that!" the girl assured her quickly. "It's just…when I was in the courthouse I heard something." She paused again.
Patty's face relaxed. "What was it, dear?"
"Uhm, well… I heard someone in the courtroom, but I didn't think anyone was working in there. Eve told me it'll be weeks or even months yet before they get around to converting it and I was surprised. I peeked in the door and saw…" She glanced up at her adopted aunt. "It was Sir Barnham. He looked…really, really sad and upset, and he banged his fist against the desk several times as he muttered to himself. …I didn't know what to say…and I didn't want to disturb him so I just left quietly."
"That does sound strange," the baker mused. "He seems like such a nice young man… It must be something serious to upset him so."
"Perhaps I could ask Eve to talk to him. She could probably get through to him," the blonde girl murmured.
Patty was quiet again as she put the flour, sugar and yeast into the cupboards. She peered once more into the baskets Espella had brought back, but they were quite empty.
"Espella, where are the zucchini and carrots?"
A floury hand flew to the girl's mouth. "Oh!" she cried. "I forgot…"
"When I go marketing I forget the milk. When you go, you forget the vegetables…" the woman sighed.
"I'm so sorry, Aunt Patty! I'll go right away and get some!"
"No child, I'll go this time. You keep at the dough," Patty commanded, smiling at her young charge. She dusted off her mitts and took hold of one of the now empty wicker containers, but before exiting, she turned and told the girl, "The buns come out of the oven in four minutes."
"I'll take them out, Aunt Patty, don't worry," she said, and waved one floured hand.
The baker smiled to herself as she marched toward the marketplace, where she knew she could buy the best for the least price. However, with her errand completed and on her way back, she stopped when she came to the fork of the path that led to the old courthouse. Her motherly heart gave a little throb of sorrow when she thought of the knight, alone and greatly saddened by something. Patty Eclaire is not about to start ignoring duty when she sees it, she thought, her plump cheeks pulled down in a slight frown.
Having made her decision, she strode resolutely toward the building and pushed open one of the heavy front doors. When this place is a theater, they'd best have some doormen. The place was so quiet; she was sure she could hear the scamperings of mice or something even worse. She would have to mention to someone about getting a feline or two. Thankfully, with cat Eve at the bakery, she and Espella had few worries about rodents.
The doors to the courtroom itself were easier to manage; Patty opened one of them wide until it squeaked in groaning protest. The armored knight, who was leaning over the other side of the bench where he had stood so many times, jerked upright, his stormily grey eyes fixing themselves almost warily on the unexpected intruder. As she approached, Constantine came around the bench and also stared at her.
"M-Mrs. Eclaire… Wh-what brings you here?" he asked, attempting to hide the strain in his voice.
"Espella told me you were here and I was passing by," the baker replied without hesitation. "She was worried about you."
He started. "She…was worried…a-about me?"
Patty nodded, her visage softening. "I was too."
Barnham turned his face away, his jaw set and fists clenched. "Why?" he asked, so quietly that she wouldn't have heard the words if she hadn't moved closer. "Why, after what I've done?"
"And what have you done?" the baker questioned, placing her free hand on her hip and trying to grip a rolling pin she'd left behind.
"You ask me?" he said, his tone laced heavily with remorse. He closed his eyes tightly as if to block out some sight he desperately wished to avoid. "I thought she was a witch and almost caused her to be sent to the flames! I was so wrong! 'Tis my fault she and other girls like her suffered so!" Vehemently, he struck the bench with gauntleted fist.
"Hmm… Well, I cannot speak for Espella, but I do not hold it against you. I saw how you stood up for her that final night when the other knights were being rough with her."
"A small recompense for the horrors she faced before…" he muttered, he eyes on the metal covering his hands.
"As far as I can tell, you were only doing your job in the only way you knew how. But if it's the child's forgiveness you want, you'll have to ask her for it."
"A-ask her?"
"Of course, and you certainly can't do it by hiding away here. Sir Barnham, you will come to the bakery with me."
"T-t-to the bakery?! N-now?" the knight stammered, leaning upon his elbow and staring at the kindly woman as if she was asking him to swim the ocean in his armor.
"I believe I heard something about you giving up your sleeping quarters to make room for the new tourist project. Where are you staying now?"
"It matters not…" he began with a shake of his head, but then she furrowed her brows at him. "T-that is, I have been sleeping here."
"In the courtroom?!"
"No, ma'am…I have appropriated one of the beds in the dungeon. It doesn't bother us were we sleep," he said, gesturing to the white dog at his feet.
"That simply will not do," she muttered, shaking her head. "The dungeons are no place for anyone to live." She purposely left off any comment about how hard Espella had told her the beds were, if she could even call them that. "Now, I want you to gather whatever things you have here and come to the bakery. Is that clear?"
Her dark, button-like eyes were as hard to resist as one of her best pastries, and her mouth was a firm, curvy little line in her dough-soft face. Who could stand long against such willpower and kind determination?
"Y-yes, Mrs. Eclaire. As you wish."
Though Patty still sensed a grieved look behind his eyes, she spared no time for further questions; after all, he wouldn't bare all his troubles so easily, but having some people around might bring him comfort. "Good," she said, nodding. "I expect to see you in five minutes, Zacharias Barnham." With that, she turned and exited the courtroom.
"What do you make of that, boy?" he mused, gazing downwards to his dog. "She is very forceful, isn't she?" Even stubborn, as Rouge might say…
As he descended the dark steps to the cell where he had slept for the last two nights, the word resounded in his mind. Stubborn… He was stubborn too. A stupid, stubborn fool…
~O~
Just an hour earlier he had been at Rouge's tavern and as he precariously perched himself on one of the unpredictable stools, the proprietress approached him. She waved off Cutter, who either wanted to show her his newest creation or to use her face as a model for the next one. Meanwhile, Constantine was sniffing under each of the tables for either tidbits to eat or enemies to fight.
"Hey, Zack," she said, one corner of her mouth twisting up in her usual, knowing sort of smile. "Things have been hopping, haven't they?"
"Indeed," he replied. "There is much reconstruction and such to attend to. It makes for a great deal of work."
"And everyone has to adjust," the bar mistress added. "It's different now that the witches and magic are gone. But I like it. It's definitely better." She poured a chalice of simple juice for him, knowing that he was likely still on duty, and also prepared one for herself.
Barnham took a long draught and smacked it back to the countertop. "Ahh! Thanks, Rouge."
"You're still going to have to pay me for that, you know."
"Of course." He produced a coin from somewhere on his person and placed it on the counter, continuing where he'd left off before. "Even more now is the plan for allowing tourists here. It will take a lot of work to set up, but it will assuredly bring much-needed funds to this town."
"Sure, sure," she muttered, hardly paying attention anymore. A few more moments of silence followed while he downed what remained in his cup. "Say, Zack?"
"Um-huh."
"You've been to the mainland several times in the last few months." She was actually rather quiet, quite the anomaly for the vivacious tavern keeper. "Have you, you know… Did you…find out…?"
The knight froze, the chalice in his hand inches from the top of the bar. He swallowed visibly, all traces of satisfaction gone from his face.
"Zack! Don't act like you didn't hear me! You did find out, didn't you?"
"Yes," he replied stiffly, averting his eyes by searching for his dog.
"C'mon, don't stop there! What did you find out?"
He could hardly raise his eyes to meet hers, and he fiddled idly with the vessel which was empty save for a few drops clinging to the side. "…He's dead, Rouge."
Standing abruptly, she shoved her own chalice aside, not caring when it fell to the floor and smashed. She fixed him with eyes that smoldered blue flames, her lips curved this time in anger. "Why didn't you tell me?! It's been a couple months and you couldn't be bothered to tell me?! I cannot believe you!"
"Are you really so surprised?" he shot back, also rising and then striking the counter with his fist. "It was bound to happen to him and you know it!"
"You stubborn fool! You'll never understand! You haven't changed one bit in these years!"
"And you're always sticking up for him! He was never any good; he betrayed us!"
"Shut up, Zack! Shut up! Do not say that to me!" Her hand trembled as though she wanted to physically lash out at him, but she stayed the motion by clutching both hands behind her back. "Get out of here before I slap those stupid, asinine ideas from your head!"
"Do not worry, I shall! And I'll not be returning!"
Their shouts escalated with each sentence, reaching a level that more than garnered the attention of the early patrons to the tavern. The rest of the room was almost deathly silent as everyone else stared with some trepidation at the yelling match; no one wanted to get himself killed by stepping between the enraged proprietress and equally maddened knight. The taller redhead stalked from the barroom, sending the swinging door so hard against the wall that nearly everyone jumped and the chandelier swayed and jangled dangerously. The silence following this was so bitterly palpable that a few nervous customers sneaked out rather than risk angering Rouge still further merely by being present.
"Stupid, stupid, stubborn blockhead!" she fumed, utterly ignoring her patrons for the time being, much to their relief.
~O~
Obediently, Barnham appeared at the entrance to the bakery exactly five minutes and eleven seconds later, holding a bag not even half filled with a few meager possessions, and a mixed expression of confusion and perturbation crossing his features. Constantine was at his heels, making bewildered "Ruff, ruff?" noises and lolling his tongue. He lifted his noise to the air and lolled his tongue as the delectable smells reached him.
"Hello, Sir Barnham!" called a cheery voice, belonging to a girl who was currently engaged in dicing carrots.
"Ah, you're here. I'm glad you decided to follow my advice," the baker said, hinting a bit darkly at what might have happened if he hadn't. "If you wouldn't mind, help Espella with those carrots. I'm always afraid that child will cut a finger one of these days!"
The young woman groaned, "Oh, Aunt Patty! You know I'm always very careful."
"It would relieve me all the same. If you would, Zacharias? You don't mind if I just call you by your first name, do you? I can't keep addressing you so formally when you're working here."
"Y-yes, of course, Mrs. Eclaire," replied he, too stupefied to make any other reply.
Espella giggled as she surrendered the chopping board. "You'll get used to her," she whispered and then quickly busied herself with the equally "dangerous" task of grating the dark green zucchini. "Aunt Patty, does zucchini taste good in bread?"
"Why, of course it does! My mother used to zucchini bread all the time and everyone loved it. I remember her recipe perfectly."
"I'm sure it will turn out a lot better than my fish bread did. That is one thing I am never going to try again; it smelled really awful, too!"
"Tomorrow we'll have a special on fresh zucchini bread," the baker decided, smiling fondly, remembering long past days when she was young and her mama was alive.
"Can we save some for Dad and Eve? I'm sure they'd be glad to try it out!"
"Certainly, child. With everything else going on I'd almost forgotten about your plans to bring your father over here. He's feeling a lot better, isn't he?"
The blonde girl nodded happily as she tossed a zucchini stem into the waste pail and started on another whole one. "Yes. Eve and I have made sure that he didn't disobey the doctor's orders to rest when we got back. Tomorrow will be the first time that we'll let him go someplace, since the boat ride of course."
The elder woman chuckled dryly. "No doubt he's tired of being cooped up and bossed around by two young girls."
"Hee hee. Oh, he complains all the time but I think he secretly enjoys being fussed over."
Barnham completed his task at a slower rate than Espella had been going at it, but in all actuality she had made it much easier for him because she'd already cut up most of those bright orange vegetables. He put all the slices in the nearby bowl, without noticing that one of the pieces rolled to the floor, and wondered how in blazes he was going to let the ladies know he was finished without interrupting their unending string of conversation. He opened his mouth a couple of times when he thought he saw a chance to slip in a few quick words, but they unintentionally cut him off before he could quite manage. Thus he stood, feeling inane and helpless; he looked to Constantine and shrugged slightly as if to say, "What is there for me to do?"
And then Patty glanced up from the dough that was nearly up to her elbows. "Oh, Zacharias, would you bring those carrots over here?"
He obeyed swiftly but in his hurry his sword bumped one of the partially filled water jugs and sent it to the floor. "I am sorry. So clumsy…" he muttered.
"No, no, don't worry. It happens all the time," Patty assured him. "Espella, hurry and get the rushes to soak it up."
The blonde girl was already on her way to the back. She returned with an armful of halfway dried rushes which she and the baker used to insulate supplies in the pantry. She tossed them to the floor, scattered them around over the spillage and then returned to her task.
"I-I should be going now," the red-faced, redheaded knight said. "I think I've done enough."
He tried to back out of the entrance without knocked anything else over, but he came to a complete standstill when Patty fixed him with much too stern a look for her kindly face. "And where do you think you're going? Are you, the captain of the knights, going to leave us two ladies when we are in need of help?"
Barnham stared at her. "Erm… N-no, ma'am."
"Well then, I need you to take the bread out of the oven. Hurry now or it will be burned!"
As he rushed forward, Espella pressed two thick mitts into his hands. "Here," she said, giving him a bright grin. "Don't forget these."
A little while later, as the dinner hour was swiftly descending upon them, Espella stirred a pot of stew over the stove and threw in pinches of seasonings here and there, while Patty was almost simultaneously checking the rolls in the oven, helping a late-calling customer with her order, and trying to instruct a none-too-domestic knight in the processes of preparing dough. With the customer gone, she hastened to the oven once more and pulled therefrom a batch of perfect, golden-brown rolls that made every breathing being within that small space drool just a little.
Someone else approached and made a pleasant silhouette in the darkened entryway. "Espella, have you se— What in the name of…?!"
The blonde girl's head popped up and she waved her free hand while still holding a bit of thyme between thumb and forefinger. "Hello, Eve! Do you want to have dinner with…us…? What's the matter?"
The former high inquisitor moved a few steps further into the bakery, her previously thoroughly annoyed expression intermixed with a sudden sprinkling of mirth. Here was that bold knight, in full armor, save the sword and gauntlets he'd set aside, losing the battle with a very large lump of dough previously prepared by the baker. She covered her mouth quickly and cleared her throat.
"I've been searching every place for you, Barnham! What are you doing here?"
"I am making bread," he replied shortly as he repeatedly pounded the lump with predictable force, causing the nearby rolling pin to jump each time.
"That I can see." I almost pity that unfortunate dough, to be at his mercy and so mangled. It is as if he is angry with it… Shaking her head slightly, she recalled that Espella had given her greeting. She cast one more look with half disguised smile toward the knight, and drew nearer the stove. "Hello, Espella." The dark-haired woman gave her friend a genuine smile.
"I'm so glad you came, Eve! Won't you stay with us for dinner?"
"Hmm…" the elder girl murmured. She leaned over the large pot and inhaled deeply the scent of the stew. "If the taste is as favorable as its aroma, it should be quite decent. You know, Espella, all those spices and herbs killed the taste of the soup you prepared last week."
"I know, I know. I've learned a lot from my failures. Aunt Patty says that a good baker tastes as she experiments, so I'm trying to keep that in mind. So, will you stay?"
"Are you sure there will be enough to go around?"
"Hee hee! Do you need to ask? Aunt Patty and I always make more than we need, just so we can invite you."
The baker waved a dishcloth in front of her face, flushed with the heat in the room that did not completely dissipate through the open end. "It's more a matter of your eyes being bigger than your stomach, Espella. What's more important though, is that none of it goes to waste."
"Anyway, I'll set a place for you too, Eve. Ooh, and you won't forget about tomorrow, right? You promised you'd come."
"Of course I remember. You haven't let me forget it," the other young woman replied, crossing her arms and yet not uttering protest about remaining for dinner.
"You didn't tell us what brought you here. Oh, I know! It was probably about…" the younger girl paused her stirring for effect. "…the tourist project, right?"
"I don't think it takes much guesswork to figure that one out," Eve replied as she dipped a spoon into the simmering contents of the pot and withdrew a slice of carrot.
Espella giggled. "All I had to do was look into my crystal stew pot."
She gave her blonde friend a look. "I spoke with your father and we had a few ideas regarding the selection of the tourists we'll allow here, if all goes as planned. However, the evening is waning and I don't wish to spoil your dinner with those trifling details." I believe Barnham will be little good for discussing ideas with the foul mood he's in, though he'd surely try to convince me otherwise.
"I hope Dad was being good and not giving you any trouble."
"That depends on your definition of 'good'. He was in his robe, wandering around in front of the windows. I am relieved he is so far on the mend, for I grow weary of forcing him to follow doctor's orders."
"Ah, Dad… I think he's just a little lonely. And he always wants to be busy doing something, giving orders and all that."
Having let the bit of carrot cool slightly, Eve tested it with one finger and slipped it into her mouth. Espella's pet cat suddenly appeared and wound herself around the former high inquisitor's ankles. With a quick look to see that no one was watching her at the moment, she stooped and allowed cat-Eve to lick the broth left on her spoon.
Meanwhile, the younger girl bustled around the room, weaving around Patty, Barnham and her friend on her way to and from the table. "How do you like it?" she queried expectantly.
"I would not be stretching the truth if I said it is the best soup you've made thus far."
"Ah ha ha! You're too kind, Eve."
Some few minutes later found the somewhat odd foursome seated at a table crowded with such foods that were not only pretty to look at, but also a delight to sniff and most pleasant to the tongue. They all ate heartily and Espella chattered less during the meal, occasionally leaning ever so slightly under the table to drop a tidbit for her cat. She knew it was not the best manners to do it, but she could not resist spoiling her pet. She had a suspicion, though, that there was another animal under the table, and sure enough, the little white dog also jumped for the delicious, sometimes meaty morsels.
Eve noticed once more that Barnham's spirits appeared as if under a rain cloud. She wondered if it had anything to do with the reason that the knight was in the bakery in the first place and she resolved to ask her friend about it later. She had been anticipating explaining her ideas to him but, her plans being spoiled, her own mood began to worsen, though she didn't quite realize the reason.
However, before she sank too far Espella rescued her by gently, cheerily and without malice coercing her friend into helping with the cleanup. They conversed quietly between themselves while Eve lent her hands to the task by drying the dishes. Meanwhile, Patty stored the leftovers and put everything back in its place between instructions to the new apprentice baker on the creation of fine dough.
"Aunt Patty, do you mind if I leave for a while to see Dad? I shouldn't be gone much more than an hour," the blonde girl said when all was put away.
"Certainly not, dear. You go ahead and enjoy yourself. Is Eve going with you?"
"Yes, Aunt Patty. Don't worry about me. We'll be fine."
With a wave, the blonde young woman quit the bakery with her best friend and shadowed by a black cat. The sky was dark and sprinkled with the usual merry stars; the streets of Labyrinthia were similarly peppered with lamps that hung at door frames and near shop signs, and painted with the occasional bloom of light that emanated from open shutters and cracked doors. Fewer people were out on the streets at that hour, but there were some who were working late or partying early. The young women passed the expensive shops and witnessed Bardly attempting to entertain the fast dwindling number of patrons.
"I've been wondering, Espella…" Eve ventured at last when she was sure no one would overhear them. "Just why is Barnham at the bakery, of all places?"
Her blonde friend tilted her head. "I think Aunt Patty is going to try to teach him to bake." Lowering her voice to a mere whisper, even though they couldn't be overheard, she added, "I think she's already adopted him. Hee hee!"
"Even so, I do not understand how this all came about."
"Well, I don't know why, but Sir Barnham was pretty upset about something and Aunt Patty just brought him to the bakery. And he's been sleeping in the dungeon because he gave up his quarters."
"Yes, he told me it was simply a temporary arrangement before he found a new room. Now it seems that he has…"
"Oh yes, Aunt Patty was quite insistent on that matter. She wouldn't let him leave." Espella giggled. "It will be fun having someone else at the bakery again. Even though Mr. Wright and Maya were there such a short time, I missed them so much when they left. He'll be a great help to Aunt Patty, at least when he learns how to bake."
Eve chuckled once as she recalled having observed a round, thoroughly blackened object thrown into the rubbish bin, a failure she surmised could only have been intended to be a loaf of bread. "Mrs. Eclaire had best be well fortified with patience," said she as they approached the guarded gate.
~O~
The next morning, as the earliest birds were stretching their wings for the first time that morning, one of the feathered creatures lighted on the windowsill of an attic room. Forthwith, it opened its diminutive beak and chirped what seemed a cheery greeting to the blonde girl within the room as she slipped her dress over her head.
"Hello, little bird," she whispered, approaching the window. "This is a beautiful morning, is it not?"
She giggled as she began to plait her hair. The little bluebird cocked its head, fluffed its creamy chest and sang another few notes.
Espella put her finger to her lips. "Shh. Not too loud. Aunt Patty is still sleeping!"
With her cat at her heels and a candle in her hand, she pussy-footed her way through the dark hall, attempting to avoid the boards that creaked worst; in passing the room that the baker had assigned to Barnham, she noticed immediately that the door was open, leaving her to glimpse the pale glow of pre-dawn from the window. No noise came from within.
"Sir Barnham?" she whispered, nearing the door.
She poked her head in and extended the candlestick. The bed was rumpled but both knight and dog were conspicuous by their absence. She shook her head, briefly hoping that the new apprentice baker hadn't flown the proverbial coop.
The young woman pattered down the stairs, poured a saucerful of milk for her pet, inserted fuel into the oven and lit it, and then uncovered the dough left to sit overnight. With the skill afforded her by working in the bakery for five years and counting, she floured the counter, wrestled with the large, plump lump and formed it into the first loaves of the day. As the cat cleaned herself meticulously, Espella checked the oven's temperature and when she judged it ready, she slipped therein five long pieces of dough.
"Today is going to be especially busy, Eve," she said as she quickly calculated and put two more small logs into the flames. "I wish to make everything perfect for this evening when Dad comes. We'll have that plump chicken that Aunt Patty got yesterday, scalloped potatoes, those wonderful gravied peaches, some of Aunt Patty's zucchini bread, green beans, and those buns that Dad liked so much the last time. I'll go out and pick flowers for the table—perhaps Eve would like to help with that—and you have to be on your best behavior." She looked upon her pet and shook her finger. "No jumping onto the table this time!"
Cat-Eve meowed and rubbed against the girl's ankle, which was bare as she only wore slippers.
"Aunt Patty promised that she would help me with the preparations. Oh, I just hope everything…"
She lifted her head quite suddenly as someone ducked under the bakery's entrance. For the first half second she wondered who on earth would not only be awake so early but would also be coming for bread that was yet to be baked. Then, by the flickering lights of the torches she'd kindled she glimpsed the red hair and sun-browned face of the former inquisitor. Constantine continued with his bounding little leaps into the room, but his master stopped just inside the entryway.
"Good morning, Sir Barnham," Espella greeted him cheerily.
"Miss Cantabella…" he said, and some seconds after the girl could have sworn he muttered something like "…apologize again…."
"It's nice to know that someone else wakes early too. And here I was thinking it would just be me and Eve."
She gestured to the black feline, who sat primly on a stool licking her paws and paying no attention to the white dog who watched her just a bit distrustfully. The girl turned her gaze back to the knight who still stood, as if he'd rooted to the spot, squeezing first one fist and then the other and his own eyes rising no further than the floor. Concerned that something was amiss she brushed off her hands and drew closer, noticing how weariness shone through his features and his whole manner, despite his best efforts to conceal it.
"Sir Barnham?"
Without warning, he blurted suddenly, "I am deeply sorry."
"Why, what for?" she returned, the bewilderment apparent in both tone and face. She couldn't tell if he was actually looking downward or if his eyes were closed, which only added to his tired appearance.
"I…I tried to send you to the flames. I thought you were a witch. I am—I was an inquisitor and it was my job to ensure that justice was done, yet I was blind to the truth."
"Oh, yes…that."
Beneath the slightly moth-eaten shawl wrapped around her and the apron which covered it, Espella shivered, only in part due to the early morning air. She drew her arms closer about herself. What do I say to him? Is this why he was so upset yesterday? Those dreadful witch trials… When will we no longer be haunted by them?! She struggled silently with her own thoughts and emotions without realizing Barnham's state of extreme agitation at her lack of response.
"I had best be on my way. I thank you and Mistress Eclaire for your kindness," he murmured dejectedly, turning to the barely born morning.
"Wait, don't go."
He stopped, his face mostly obscured, with only one eye visible to her in the lamplight as he turned his head only slightly. Espella drew still nearer and tentatively extended one hand toward his arm, as if to compel him to come further into the bakery, but stopped before she made contact.
"You do not wish me to leave?"
"Of course not," she replied, tucking her hand back under her shawl and gazing into his eyes. "I am not angry with you. I…" She paused as the many thoughts within her mind all tried to flock to her tongue. "I know that you were merely fulfilling your job and it was not your fault… I am only glad that those trials are no more."
"'Tis that which haunts me so. I did not try as I should have to discern the truth. I failed…"
"Oh, I don't know. You seemed to be doing pretty well near the end when you found out what Eve was up to. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. After all, we're living without the illusions now and the only way to move is forward. "And…" she added, drawing her lips again into a slight smile. "You don't want to make Aunt Patty mad, do you? She's not the sort of person on whose bad side you want to be."
His gaze was still downcast as he replied, "No… I suppose not."
"Come on, then. I'll show you how the morning routine works. I'm sure Aunt Patty will be down soon enough."
He really hadn't any choice. He donned the apron she proffered him and followed Espella's instructions as she helped him with the next batch of bread. By the time the stout baker descended the stairs, more than half of the newest loaves were charred on the outside and doughy mush on the inside. The blonde girl sighed; teaching the knight to bake was going to take all the patience both she and the elder woman could muster.
Fortunately for the bread, the bakers, and Barnham, he left about midmorning for his duties at the garrison and a conference with Eve and the construction crew. Patty shook her head as she viewed the sad lumps that he probably thought would pass for bread.
"When you return I'll have more work for you, so don't you stay away too long," she said, her mouth set determinedly in what was not quite a frown.
As the knight hurried to the doorway and Constantine bounded after him, Espella called out, "Aren't you forgetting something, Sir Barnham?"
He turned back, clueless as to what she meant. "What?"
The girl tried her best to hide her amused smile as she gestured to the be-floured apron which still hung, rather ungainly, over his shoulders. "You're not going out in that, are you?"
With a scowl, he yanked it over his head and cast it to the nearby table. Constantine yipped and circled his master's feet as the knight ducked under the bakery entrance and quickly disappeared up the street amongst the many citizens.
Espella's day was filled with much baking and busy preparations for the special dinner that night. As soon as she tasted the zucchini bread she was quite adamant that both her friend and father should also have some; she was so nervous and scatterbrained that she almost burned a large batch of buns. Later than afternoon, when Eve dropped by after finishing with her duties, the two of them went outside the walls and gathered armfuls of the many-colored wildflowers that grew so extensively over the countryside. On their return they passed through the marketplace, where the younger girl selected a generous dozen of the best peaches.
When all was considered satisfactory under Espella's careful eye, both young women brought Cantabella from the room to which he'd forcibly been confined for the past few weeks.
"You two treat me as though I am an invalid," the Storyteller protested. "I am neither as old nor as sickly as you make me out to be."
"Oh Dad, we only want to be sure you rest enough after your operation. You are too important to us and we don't want you to come down with any more illnesses."
"Hmph," was all the gentleman replied, for he could not bear to more sharply dissuade his daughter's tender worries, despite their inconvenience to him.
"You worry about him too much, Espella," her best friend said.
The blonde girl murmured under her breath, "The pot calls the kettle black."
Meanwhile, Eve-the-cat seemed intent on circling them, especially the young woman who bore the same name. Several times Eve was forced to break the evenness of her gait to avoid stepping on or tripping over the feline.
"I do wish you'd keep your cat from getting tangled in my legs," the former high inquisitor grumbled. "It's not like she can't walk alongside us like a normal person."
"Oh, but she likes you," Espella giggled.
Eve muttered darkly, "Such fondness I can do without."
Upon their arrival at the bakery Patty came out to greet them. "Welcome, Sir Storyteller."
Cantabella bowed slightly. So as to feel on a friendlier basis with the townspeople, he was attired in the sort of simpler clothes that he wore before he began his role as the creator. "It is an honor, Mistress Eclaire."
She beamed and Espella could swear she saw a tinge of pink coming to the elder woman's cheeks. "I saw you coming and I've just set everything on the table. Come, sit down and we'll begin."
Further inside the room, Barnham waged battle with another lump of dough while Constantine was uncharacteristically quiet and he sat near the stove. When the knight noted that their visitor had arrived, he brushed his be-floured hands on the apron he wore, removed said item, and strode to his superior to give the salute due him. The Storyteller showed no surprise at seeing a new face at the bakery; the redhead needed no time to figure out why.
Dinner was a cozy affair, with strong candlelight, excellent food and Espella chattering to everyone. Her father seemed to warm up after a while and he participated more in the conversation. Patty was at her best as she described methods of baking, the ups and downs of the business, and a leak in the back of the roof that needed attention. Being quieter than the others did not mean Eve enjoyed the meal less; she found her pleasure in listening to everyone else. When the baker mentioned the roof, the former high inquisitor immediately assured the elder woman that she would see to its repair as she fixed her gaze on Barnham. The knight himself was a bit on edge to be dining with not one, but two superiors, even though Eve was technically no longer a superior but more of a co-worker. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he was also embarrassed over his new, if part-time, job, though part of that was likely because as an apprentice baker his skills were lacking.
Espella asked eagerly, "Do you like the zucchini bread, Dad?"
"I do," replied he, deftly wiping a few crumbs that had been trapped in his facial hair. "Mrs. Eclaire, this is surely the best zucchini bread I've ever tasted. Have you been making it these years here at the bakery?"
"I only remembered it recently," she said. "It was my mother's special recipe, which she taught me when I eight years old. The last time I made it was for my wedding feast."
"You were married, Aunt Patty?"
"Of course I was, child. Why else would I be called 'missus'?"
"Oh, yes… I guess I've always assumed it but never thought it through," the blonde girl chattered. "Uhm… Aunt Patty? Were you very happy?"
That lady's face softened until it was like some of her best dough. "Yes, we were happy enough. We had no children, however." She gazed fondly over Espella, who was as much a daughter to her as any child of her own.
Silence followed afterward, as each of them digested the information as they picked away at their dinner. The Storyteller lifted another slice of peach to his mouth and pretended that he was hearing the baker's background for the first time. Eve and Espella glanced at each other soberly, with thoughts of their own parents filling their minds.
"Mrs. Eclaire, if I may ask…" Barnham began, his gaze rising from the bread that he absently tore to pieces over his plate.
Patty nodded slightly.
"…What happened to him?"
She closed her eyes for a second. "He died, dear boy."
His expression largely unreadable, the knight lowered is gaze again and concentrated on his plate, crushing what was left of the bread in his hand.
"Oh, Aunt Patty!" Espella breathed, compassionate tears filling her eyes. "I never knew!"
"Bless your heart, child, you've had enough grief of your own to be burdened with mine."
She leaned over and patted the girl's hand that rested near her fork, while under the table Eve firmly gripped the other five fingers. Espella tried to disguise a sniffle in her napkin.
"What was he like?" she asked, nearly in a whisper.
The baker smiled slightly, a fond look tinged with sadness coming to her eyes. "He was a good man. He never put things back where they belonged and many's the time he'd wake me with his cold feet and snores in the middle of the night, but I'd still take those now if I could. He provided for me and never once complained about how often our kitchen looked like this bakery." She chuckled, "You see, even then I was dabbling in this line of work."
Eve gave her friend's hand another press and inquired with as much gentle tact as she could muster, "What was his name, Mrs. Eclaire?"
"George," she replied, taking a deep, almost shaky breath. A single tear slipped from her eye and trickled down on the left side of her nose. "If only I had kept him at home for just a few minutes longer…the accident might never have happened…"
Espella's chair scraped the floor as she quickly stood up and leaned over the baker with a hug. "Don't say any more, Aunt Patty."
That lady patted the young arm thrown around her neck. "No, it's all right, dear child. I want you to know. My husband died in the hospital nearly eight years ago and I ran away. I wanted to forget and so I eventually joined Project Labyrinthia. I was a coward for trying to hide from my grief… Even as foolish as I've been, I was blessed with this bakery, friends, and a fine young girl in need of a mother…begging your pardon, Sir Storyteller."
"Not at all," replied he, gruffly, his expression stern and his eyes on his daughter. "It was something I sadly could not provide and I am grateful Espella found a home with as fine a lady as you."
The girl still wept tears for an uncle she'd never know, and for the aunt who had borne such sorrow.
"There, there, dear. It's all right," the elder woman soothed her.
"But it's so-o s-sad! Oh, Aunt Patty…!" she whimpered.
She lifted her head to look at her father, who appeared to her to be as sad as she felt. She once more hugged the baker and moved to the white-haired gentleman who sat at the other end of the table. He pulled her close.
"Espella, please don't cry," he murmured so that only she could hear. "You make my heart ache to see you sad."
She clung to him for a moment. "I'm sorry, Dad. I know I'm being terribly silly and feminine, but I can't help it." She inhaled deeply and managed a watery sort of smile as he gave her his handkerchief.
The girl realized that no one was eating any more and she blushed, knowing that she'd caused a scene. She scurried back to her seat, still clutching the hanky. Patty insisted that they speak of something less depressing; the talk turned to a subject much discussed over the whole town, the tourist project, and they finished their meal.
As a result of tender mood, the elder woman relented as she not often did and bent to give scraps to both cat and dog. Espella noticed this and added a dollop of peaches for cat-Eve and a bone for Constantine. While the blonde girl lent her aid to the cleanup process, Eve crouched and gave the feline a few strokes when she was sure her friend was not looking. The knight was at the bakery entrance, staring out to the darkened street and trying to resist the idea that he should start with the preparation of dough for the morrow when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Cantabella lowered his voice to what seemed a conspirational whisper. "Barnham, wait a moment."
"Sir Storyteller?"
He wondered what in the name of Patty's best bread what was so urgent; he automatically stiffened for whatever bad news he'd hear. His superior fixed him with his sternest glare, the kind that he used when he caught a knight being lax in his duties or when someone threw a monkey wrench into the parade; Barnham gulped in spite of himself. He hoped it wasn't about the squash patch upon which Constantine had wrought havoc when the little dog tried to catch some runaway chickens.
"I do not know why you felt the need to train at such an early hour, but will you please not mention that you saw me at the time, especially to Espella and Eve."
"O-of course not, sir," stammered a very bemused knight.
The elder gentleman's expression devolved into something that could only be described as sheepish. "Those two have been merciless in my recovery. They compel me to retire at an early hour and have not let me outdoors until today. If they knew I sneaked out this morning they would never let me hear the end of it."
"I understand, Sir Story—Mr. Cantabella."
"Good, then it's just between us men." He sighed. "Soon enough they'll both be herding me off to bed again."
He retreated to the table once more, attempting to hide his amused little smile in his mustache before the eagle eyes of either young woman spotted it. Once more, the redhead groaned inwardly and bolstered enough courage to have another go at the bread. As he reached the large counter, Eve sprang up and fixed him with a scathing glare that dared him to make mention of her fondling the cat.
"What were you and Mr. Cantabella whispering about over there?" she demanded, as a diversionary tactic.
"'Twas a small matter. Nothing of import."
She grinned in a cunning, yet rather beguiling manner that reminded him very much of a cat. "He wanted you to mention naught of his excursion at dawn, isn't that right?"
Barnham dropped the rolling pin on his foot. "W-What…?!" He felt his face heat and cursed himself under his breath.
"Your expression betrays you," she said, gesturing with slender finger.
He wished he was wearing his helmet.
"You should at least keep the noise down if you wish to go unnoticed; you'll hear complaints if you continue with such an early morning workout. And perhaps you'd better get yourself a real partner, as I'm sure that dummy will never be usable again."
A crack in the floor would have been a nice place for the knight to hide at that moment. Oh, if he were anywhere else but the bakery, even if it be the fire pit! He loathed himself for being so upset that he'd not slept well, for unleashing his anger on a stupid straw man at an indecent hour, and for feeling so helpless in the unwavering gaze of those turquoise eyes.
"I expect that is the reason your work has been rather slipshod today?" Her expression softened only slightly. "You'd best be off to bed soon then. We've a busy day tomorrow since a certain knight promised to repair Rouge's roof."
The young woman turned on her heel and joined her friend and the baker, leaving in her wake a knight who made the new batch of dough smart as much as his pride. He was still at it when Espella and Eve pulled the Storyteller away; Barnham hardly looked up as the threesome left.
~O~
Just a couple of afternoons later, Cantabella dropped by the bakery again and it seemed he was slowly being allowed more freedom. Eve accompanied him, as they'd been discussing some plans and wished to speak with the knight captain. However, as so often happened when they visited the bakery, Patty inadvertently caused them reconsider their reasons for coming.
"Hello, Dad!" Espella called cheerily as she set down her measuring cup.
Patty bustled over to her. "That's enough for now, dear. Zacharias and I look after the bread. You go sit next to your father and keep him and Eve company."
"But, Aunt Patty! I want to help."
"Go on now!" she scolded lightly, shooing the young woman with her hands.
Espella pouted but did as she was told. She beamed at her best friend and neither was sorry when she interrupted the conversation about repairs and construction, and making the town ready for tourists.
"Eve, did you tell Dad how beautiful your house is looking now?"
"No. The matter never came up."
"Oh, it looks lovely, Dad!" Espella gestured to a small vase of bright blooms which remained from those they'd had at the dinner table the other night. "The other day we went together to gather these flowers and stopped briefly at her house, where we said hello to the former shades working there, but Eve wouldn't let me go in." She looked at her friend and stuck out her bottom lip. "I did so want to see what it looks like!"
"You said yourself that we were in too much of a hurry for distractions," Eve replied dryly.
"I too would enjoy seeing what progress you've made," the Storyteller said, with his meaningful look passing between the two girls. "Perhaps one day soon you will indulge an aging man's whims and show both of us."
The smile of the dark-haired young woman was slight, yet it reached her eyes. "Of course."
Meanwhile, Barnham slipped his hands into the thick mitts and checked the readiness of what Patty decreed as "practice buns", which were just turning brown in the oven. He thought they were well done, but the baker, hovering over his shoulder, shook her head.
"Not yet," declared she.
And so he waited, determined that these at least should not be burned to a crisp. Espella set the kettle on the stove and very nearly bumped into him as she scurried back to the kitchen carrying some milk. With an apology, she was out of his way and giving her cat a saucer of the creamy liquid. She popped up again and stretched for the mugs and teapot at the top of the cupboard, to which the red-head knight sighed and then gave her aid.
"Thank you, Sir Barnham!"
She returned to the table with her favorite little teapot and poured cups of honey tea for her friend and father. The knight pulled the small morsels from the oven and held them for Patty's inspection.
"Nicely done. This is how buns—and bread—should look when baked, Zacharias. Remember that. Now, the real test is how they taste, so you might ask our guests to sample them." She piled them carefully on an oblong platter.
"Ruff, ruff! Woof!"
As he strode toward the table carrying the plate, his dog, who felt as though his master had paid little attention to him that day and was now hoping to play, leapt up at him and the buns.
"C-Constantine!"
It just wasn't Barnham's week.
Heh heh heh... This one was such fun to write!
05-29-2017 ~ Published