I love this game but I still do not own it, nor am I making any profit from this fan fic. I also want to thank my reviewer for reading and for the feedback!
Eve's Magical Adventure
Chapter 3: Spring Rains
"Next time, will you and your knights make sure those hooligans don't upset our pottery? My husband and I work hard for our livelihood, you know!"
"Yes, ma'am. I am sorry about the mess, but as far as I could tell it seemed to be an accident." As Barnham mentioned that, the woman's scowl grew just a bit more. "…But perhaps I could compensate you for the damage, just this one time."
A couple of feet behind him, Espella stared a hole into his back as if she could thusly keep him from reaching for his coin. She wished she had Eve's nerve and imperturbability to convince him he needn't do anything of the sort.
The potter's wife was shocked out of her ire. "Sir Barnham, that is much too generous of you! We cannot accept—"
He pressed the cold metal into her warm palm regardless.
"I told you, this is too much to ask. I cannot take this."
The knight's expression became stern. "I insist that you do."
She was nearly twenty years older than him and had children of her own, but she felt such keen admiration that she'd not known since her younger days. "Then at least take a part of it back." She slid half the coins back across the smooth wood and tucked the others into the pocket of her paint-smudged smock.
His gaze did not waver from her face for some seconds, as if he were gauging the worthiness of her words as he would ascertain the readiness of an opponent in battle. Then he slid the money back into the little pouch he carried on his person.
"In the future, on days when the tourists are here, I suggest you take more care with the placement your wares."
"Yes, yes. We will do just that," replied she, as if she hadn't already realized that course of action.
Both knight and young woman bid her a good day. He picked up the baskets which still held at least half of the day's bread deliveries, bearing two on each arm.
"Oh, Mrs. Potter?" Espella asked, turning once more. "Did the tourists take any interest in your wares?"
The lady smiled. "Why yes. They liked my painted vases." She gestured to a few of those items that rested just inches from the still warm bread. The vessels were adorned with miniature scenes painted in great detail.
"I'm glad to hear that. They are exquisite, Mrs. Potter."
"Thank you, dear child. You tell Patty hello for me and thank her for the bread, won't you?"
Espella nodded, and with a wave, relinquished herself to the street once more. She shivered as some of the slanting drizzle touched her face and she drew her own basket closer, as if to warm herself by whatever heat was left therein. She quickened her steps to match the long strides of the knight and skirted around the worst of the puddles as they headed to their next customer.
"Why did you do that?" she asked, just a little breathless. A tiny drop of rain tickled her nose as it slid down. "Why did you offer to pay for the damage?"
He hesitated, shifting the baskets on his left arm. "It was the only way to satisfy her complaints."
She would have told him she thought he was terribly kind, but after the past few months at the bakery she knew he would brush off her gushing praise as though it were a noisome flea, and he'd be downright irked if she made mention of his current state of finances. Instead, she tucked those thoughts away into a cozy corner of her brain, to be aired and ironed out when she and Eve had their spot of talk.
As they ducked under the awning of the smithy's she called out, "Bread delivery for you, Sir Blacksmith!"
They heard the man hammering away in the back, but he hollered something a couple of times; finally a wench of about fifteen stomped to the front, her face as sulky and dark as the clouds without. As soon as she glimpsed Barnham, however, her eyes brightened rather abnormally, her frown inverted itself in the blink of an eye, and she quickly brushed both her mousy brown hair and the finely tailored jacket.
"Oooh, Sir Barnham, what brings you here on such an awfully inclement day?" she purred.
"Bread delivery. The bill is two gold," replied the knight, none more oblivious than he. He fumbled awkwardly through the large baskets he held. "Miss Cantabella, do you have the order?"
"No, it's in one of your baskets. I'll find it for you. I know just where it is."
She pulled back the thick cloth covering the container and a second later held the correct bundle in her hands. Turning to the blacksmith's daughter, she proffered the package and accepted the price due. The wench pouted still further that he did not hand the order to her; she glared at Espella's back, who didn't seem to realize how fortunate she was to work with the most handsome man in town, and a knight as well.
As they stepped into the street again, the blonde young woman shuddered once more, pulled her cape closer about herself and then sneezed.
"You are cold," Barnham said. He stopped short, set his burdens beneath another awning just across the street, and unclasped the fastenings of his cloak. "You must take this. It will keep you warm."
"But you'll get wet, Mr. Barnham," she protested.
He draped it over her shoulders, engulfing her completely. "It means nothing to me. What sort of knight would I be if I could not bear up under slight discomforts in the course of my duty? Anyway," he muttered last, "Mrs. Eclaire would have my head if you were to return with a chill."
He turned up the collar of his jacket and hoisted his burdens once more, while Espella pulled the dark green material closer about herself; she already felt warmer under its thick folds. Patty had nagged her about getting a new cape for the chilly months and she now wished she'd heeded that advice. Meanwhile, across the street a red-faced girl glared at her with such venom that even a cobra would have been jealous.
"Thank you, Sir Barnham. This is most kind of you," the young woman said. "I'm afraid I'm going to get it dirty, though. You're much taller than me." She glanced down the hem of the garment, which covered her feet and dragged on the cobblestones.
"It matters not," replied he with careless shrug.
All the same, she pulled his cloak over her own hood, surprising herself with how heavy it was. The thick green fabric only touched the street; at least now she would be less likely to snare her feet in it. She hurried to catch up with the knight, who charged through the cold drizzle and puddles as he was on a training regimen. It was just as well that both Constantine and Eve the cat had remained at the bakery.
They stopped at Jean's place, but she was busy with her studies and her mother received and paid for the order. Leaving her, they visited other homes in that area, trying to stay under the trees and away from the dripping roofs as much as possible.
Nearing the end of their route and with the contents of just one basket left, they were required to traverse the forest path to the marketplace. The steady dripping from the trees and the darker atmosphere caused Espella to shiver in her warm little cocoon under the cloak. Oh, how glad she was that someone was with her!
As dreary and unfriendly as the weather was, a few stalls were set up under dripping awnings, the proprietors thereof huddled where at least they would not get wet, but almost no one else was braving the chill and damp that day. Those few vendors did little trading that day. Espella felt sorry for them, and she stopped at one stall to purchase some fruit brought from the mainland.
The last delivery was to a small house that rang with the howls and wails of children who were all required to remain indoors for the time being. However, they brightened up considerably when they saw Espella and especially Barnham. The boys were all but devastated that he had not worn his armor and was not carrying his sword; they were ready to start bickering again when their mother gave them all some bread and sent them to another room to eat while their mother settled the bill. Had the children still been present, they surely would have begun squabbling again as their visitors left.
Out on the street again, Barnham did not comment on the blonde girl's reduction on the price for the baked goods; he was gradually learning how secretly benevolent Patty and Espella could be. If only he'd known that before, when they were all still caught up in the illusion of magic. She had forgiven him though, but he fought to forgive himself for such a huge error.
"Oh, hello, Miss Kira," the blonde young woman said by way of greeting to the citizen who approached them. "Are you selling your flowers today?"
The flower seller wore a dark cloak at least one size too big, which covered her bonnet, half of her face, and her basket, and which drooped to the ground in a manner similar to the material Espella wore. Her shoes, hardly visible, were soaked to the soles and despite the wool socks she wore, her feet had ceased feeling anything less than frozen half an hour before. She pushed the hood from her visage but a little and through slightly fogged spectacles fixed both girl and her knightly companion in a disdainful glare.
She gave a tight little laugh completely void of mirth. "Well, I'm not out in this miserable weather for my health, you know. My boss is a real slave driver. No matter how hard I try it's never enough for him."
Barnham said nothing. With the rain dripping from his hair and his own darkly glowering expression focused solely on the flower vender, he wished they were back at the bakery already. Perhaps Espella noticed this tension, which seemed even more so due to their surroundings. She jostled his elbow with her basket as she took a couple of steps forward, which, inadvertent or not, bumped some sense into the knight.
"Hmph…" he mumbled, clearing his throat. "Miss Kira." He nodded in her direction, his expression not lessening in the slightest.
The young vendor silently returned his glare.
"I haven't seen you in some time," Espella chattered, never daunted. "Have you been keeping busy with trade from the tourists?"
"No," the other young woman replied shortly. "I do not like tourists. Most of them are rich and loud and overbearing. I despise them." She made a move like she was going to slip past them.
The blonde girl's smile dimmed slightly. "Oh. I would have thought your flowers would sell well to our visitors. Uhm, do you mind if I take a look at them now?"
"Fine." Kira moved into a doorway and pulled back her cape enough to reveal her wicker of blooms. "Do be quick about it though. My rounds won't go on themselves."
The blonde girl smiled and nodded as she stepped into that little bit of shelter for a closer look at the flowers. "In winter I hardly see any flowers. How is it that you have so many pretty ones here?"
"That?" The vendor's expression relaxed into something that was not quite a smile. "Simple. My boss has one of those contraptions, a…a… A greenshed? It's always warm in there and the flowers grow nicely except when the sun doesn't shine, like today. When that happens my boss worries about them and gets in such a bad temper that he scolds me for not selling enough flowers. He's so unfair!" Her face once again twisted downward in a scowl.
"Aunt Patty would love some of these! Ooh, and we should get some for Eve…except I haven't any money," Espella murmured, feeling her purse. "Only what we gathered for the bread, and I can't spend that." She paused and turned to her frowning delivery companion. "Sir Barnham, do you think I could borrow some from you? I'll pay you back as soon as we get home."
He was only too glad to get a respite, however brief, from the incessant rain that plastered the hair to his head, dripped down the back of his neck and caused him to shiver when it was most inconvenient. "As you wish," he said, pulling out his pouch and giving her the desired coin.
"Thank you," she said, her bright smile was a light on a face darkened by the shadow of her borrowed cloak. She selected two bouquets of the blooms and tucked them into her own nearly empty basket. "Wait, what are those?" she queried, brushing her fingers on a small white flower with five rounded petals and green centers.
"Oh, those? They're just some little flowers I found growing in clusters against the big wall. They are rather sweet, aren't they?"
The moisture that prickled at Espella's eyes couldn't have been from the rain as her face was shielded by the green material. "I must get some of these too," she breathed quietly. "My mother loved these flowers… She always told me these are the first sign of spring." She placed these latest blooms tenderly into her wicker and withdrew three round rolls therefrom. "These are for you, Miss Kira. I do hope you enjoy them."
"Oh, um, thanks…I guess…"
The flower girl watched and sighed as they hastened down the street. They were finished with their deliveries and nothing could hold them back from returning to a warm bakery, yet she had a great many more stops to make and would have to endure more hours of slipping through puddling streets and soaked grass. The life of a flower seller was certainly one of hardship…
"Zacharias! Why, you're absolutely soaked!" fussed the plump baker as soon as her two goslings returned to her domain. "Why did you not come back for something warmer to wear?!"
"'Tis nothing," he protested. "The cold means naught to me." With those words, he shivered.
She had to stand on the very tips of her toes to reach his forehead. Her brows drew into furrows as she said, "You are chilled, Zacharias." She snatched the baskets from his hands. "You go and put on some dry clothes this minute!"
He opened his mouth.
"No arguments. Upstairs with you!"
On his way to the rear door, he passed Eve, who stood warming her hands over the stove. She cast her unwavering eyes toward him in what seemed a somewhat scornful glance. She meant to give him a commiserative look, though it didn't turn out as she expected, as she had also been subject to Patty's cluckings when she'd entered the bakery not ten minutes before. As he mounted the steps with Constantine bounding ahead of him, he wondered: did the cold make her eyes seem bluer or was he imagining it?
Espella divested herself of the two cloaks, hanging them rather hurriedly on their hooks near the fire and shaking her head as she noted the mud splattered over both, especially on that of the green material. She would have to wash them both when warmer weather came. Still clinging to her basket, she stepped toward the counter and began removing the contents. First, she removed the pouch of money they'd collected, placed it near a mess of flour at which Patty worked, and explained the bills both settled and unsettled. As she did, she also removed the blooms.
"These are for you, Aunt Patty, and for you Eve," she said, extending to them the little bouquets that she'd formed. "Mr. Barnham was kind enough to buy them for me."
"Did he now?" the smiling baker mused, accepting her little bunch with hands speckled white. "Well I must say, that was a very sweet thought."
Eve held back, her face a mix of perplexity and stifled aggravation as she stared at her friend and the flowers as if she did not comprehend. Espella finally had to step forward and put them into her hands.
"You do like them, do you not?" the younger girl asked, her own smile fading slightly.
The former inquisitor set her troubled eyes on her best friend and struggled to contain herself again. Before she could quite form the words she wanted, they heard the sound of booted feet thumping down the stairs again. Seconds later, a drier, warmer knight appeared, his hair leaping in all directions after being quickly toweled.
"There you are, Zacharias," Patty said, facing him briefly to make sure he'd followed her directions. "My, you are a thoughtful young man."
His expression concentrated into something of complete confusion.
Espella also colored. "Oh, Aunt Patty…" she muttered, wondering how she could best explain it all.
Not to be outdone, Eve said stiffly, "My thanks to you as well, Zacharias." She pursed her lips and clenched her hand. "Barnham, I m-meant!"
He couldn't have been more confused than a dog suddenly placed in the middle of a cat convention.
"What's the matter?" questioned the baker. She had put her simple bouquet in a vase and once again applied her rolling pin to the dough. "Are you too modest to accept a little gratitude for the flowers?"
"F-flowers?" he repeated.
Eve stepped forward and all but shoved her bouquet up his nose. "Yes, flowers," she said, glaring rather darkly at him. "These flowers. Espella said you bought them, or have you forgotten that as you did our meeting today?"
His grey eyes widened and his mouth grew grim. He parted his lips but no sound came out; he pressed them together again and opened to finally make his tongue cooperate. "M-my apologies, Lady…erm, Miss Belduke. The deliveries cost us more time than I anticipated… 'Twas my blunder."
"No doubt you were dallying over the selection of these flowers!" Eve returned, her tongue still sharply biting. Even for all her ire she held the blooms carefully, crushing not one tiny petal.
"No, Eve! That was my doing." Espella came to the side of her friend, twining her fingers together nervously. "It… It was my idea to buy the flowers because I thought you and Aunt Patty would like them, but I didn't have the money for them. Please don't be mad, Eve? You two can talk about whatever you need now and I won't bother you a bit."
The former high inquisitor turned her eyes, no longer scathing, to her blonde friend. She sighed imperceptibly and refused to look at her bouquet. "I am not angry, Espella. It doesn't matter anyway; this abominable weather makes it impossible to finish anything of worth. The work on the courthouse is slow as a result of many leaks." She lowered her voice and drew nearer. "Oh, how I wish for spring…"
The girl brightened. "Oh, do you know what else Miss Kira had?" Espella darted back to her basket, withdrew a few of the tiny white blooms and brought them closer for inspection. Holding them in her palms, she spoke softly. "I can just remember my mum taking me out to pick these… She told me they betoken the first signs of spring… They are so sweet and delicate, yet so resilient, aren't they?"
Eve took one of the blossoms in her own hand and gazed at it without uttering a word. The purely white petals made only the slightest whisper of a touch on her scarred palm. She said hardly three syllables before she took her leave, bearing the bouquet with the greatest of care under her cloak. Arriving at her house she retreated to her kitchen, selected a small, clear glass vase and spent an hour staring at the arrangement. She too remembered a time when her father had let her accompany him into the woods; amongst the information she had promptly forgotten, he had also told her of the importance of those tiny white flowers, both as a sign of spring and for their medicinal qualities.
Espella tried many different things with those blooms. She wanted to do something special with them other than place them in the vase with all the other flowers; she placed them loosely in a bowl of water but that proved to be almost fatal when cat-Eve upset them. After rescuing them, the girl considered taking them up to her room but rejected the idea as she would not be able to enjoy them properly throughout the day. Finally she decided to pin up her braids and tuck therein the faintly scented blossoms. She set them aside carefully at night so she could use them again the next day.
Early one afternoon just a few days later, she traversed streets as wet as they had been the preceding couple of weeks, going to her father's rooms to wish him a safe journey to London. Upon her return, her cheeks were red with more than the chill of the air and hot, angry tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. She entered the bakery with a swift, stiff sort of step. She did not stop, however, to greet her aunt; instead she continued up the steps to her room.
"Espella?" Patty called after her, a tray of hot buns in one mitted hand.
No customers were currently commanding her attention and so she followed her young charge. Tapping briefly on the frame of the partially closed door, she saw the blonde girl seated on her bed. First Espella tore a couple of the flowers from her hair and almost as quickly return them to an approximation of their original position. Her stifled tears were only beginning to course down her pink cheeks.
"Why, what is the matter, dear?" Patty exclaimed, bustling over to the girl, seating herself on the bed, and encircling the young shoulders with one arm.
Espella's shoulders shook and a tear, larger than those yet fallen, escaped from the corner of her eye. She stared at a single bloom in her hand; its stem was nearly crushed between her fingers.
"Has something happened to you?" the baker asked, worry crinkling her brows. "If anyone has dared lay a hand on you he'll have to deal with my rolling pin!"
Had Barnham been there instead of at the old courthouse with Eve, he would surely have muttered something about severely disciplining any such miscreant who would dare mistreat a lady.
The young woman opened her mouth to protest the idea, but the only utterance which issued therefrom was a gasping sob. She put her face against Patty's shoulder and commenced crying; her aunt both patted her shoulder and hugged her through the storm of tears.
Espella pulled back a bit and wiped her nose. "Dad…" she mumbled.
"Lord Storyteller?" the baker questioned, a new crease of worry forming. "Why, is something the matter with him?"
N-no. No, no!" she cried and wept again. "He…he told me… Oh, Aunt Patty! He told me to take the flowers out of my hair!"
That lady pushed a few wisps of hair away from the flushed face. One of the blossoms had fallen slightly from Espella's replacement and it now hung over her ear. By what the girl had told her earlier about the flowers, she could guess why Cantabella had reacted thusly, but in the girl's current state she knew questions and reasoning would be lost on her.
"My dear, I am sorry," she said soothingly, rubbing her niece's back.
For the second time Espella sobbed until she felt she had more than used her allotment of tears. She wiped her face again and took a long, shaky breath. "I was just going to wish him a safe journey. I wanted to make sure he had enough warm things…especially for the boat ride." She began tearing up again. "As soon as he saw me he said, 'Take those things out of your hair, Espella. I won't have you wearing them!'" Looking to her lap she saw the flower that she had previously held; snatching it up she jammed the half-mangled bloom back into her hair. "I will wear them! I am a woman now and he can't order me around like a little girl! I won't remove them! I won't!"
Even as her lips curled in defiance, her tears again fell like gentle rain, adding to the dampness on Patty's shoulder and to her cloak which she'd yet to remove. With the hand not wrapped around the elder woman she reached to her pinned braids and grasped at the white blossoms; she let them fall where they might, like a shower of white petals.
~O~
A few hours later when Eve arrived at the bakery, she noticed immediately.
"…Espella, have you been crying?" she asked quietly. She leaned near her friend's ear so that she would not be overheard by the customer whose basket Patty filled by the shelves of bread.
The younger girl looked at her briefly and sighed. "Yes," she mumbled as she half-heartedly folded dough into their pans. "Are you finished with work, Eve?"
One corner of the former inquisitor's lip turned downward as she gazed upon her friend. "The construction tasks are complete for the day but I have more I shall attend to at home. That is of no consequence now though." She glanced away and noted with some satisfaction that the single customer had paid Baker Eclaire and exited the shop. "Espella, will you please tell me what has upset you so?"
The blonde girl raised her head slightly. "I don't want to talk about it right now…" Her dark blue eyes were like a storm-tossed ocean.
"Has it anything to do with your father?" Eve persisted in a gentler tone. More to herself she muttered, "Barnham would have to insist that he pilot him to the mainland, leaving me to deal with the squabbles between those ridiculous vigilantes."
Espella tried to put on a brave face, but her lip trembled. "If I tell you I'll probably start crying again. …And I have to help Aunt Patty."
The elder of the two pursed her lips, scowled and folded one arm over her chest. "I'm supposed to be the difficult one, not you."
"I'm sorry, Eve…" She sniffled quickly and went back to kneading that dough which still remained on the board. "I just don't want to cry all over the bread. Uhm… I suppose I could tell you about it later, if, well…if you stay for the night?"
"Hmm. Are you sure your loaves aren't in need of more salt? You could tell me now…" With her ungloved hand, the former high inquisitor traced a faint line in the flour coating the counter.
"Please, Eve?" the girl besought her, pausing mid-knead.
Those sad eyes and drooping eyebrows were more than the dark-haired young woman could resist. "Oh, very well," she agreed, quickly brushing off her whitened finger.
Espella smiled faintly, but even that assent did little to lift her mood. She murmured her gratitude and went back to work, separating another loaf's worth from the mound of dough. However, when Eve pulled her hood over her head again and stepped for the entryway, the blonde braids jumped as another head jerked up.
"You're not leaving—!"
"I have a duty to perform at my house. The villagers are expecting me. You mustn't fret Espella; I will be back a little bit later." With those words, she pulled on her doffed glove. "Mayhap you could save one of those éclairs for me? I have been thinking about them for days."
Espella let out the breath she'd been holding and a smile tugged at the very corners of her mouth. "Of course. You won't be too late, will you?"
The other young woman shook her head. "I will be back by eight."
"Travel safely," Patty said as she restocked empty spaces on the shelves and baskets on display near the bakery's entrance. "And stay warm!"
Dark-cloaked Eve nodded slightly, raised her hand in a brief gesture of farewell, and then ducked under the awning. Her friend also waved five fingers which were crusted with dough and flour. Then she sighed and for once wished that closing time was already upon them. Though she kept busy, the blonde girl kept thinking about her woes; her bright smile remained as hidden as the sun on that soggy afternoon.
True to her word, the former high inquisitor returned just a couple of minutes before the hour; she was first greeted by Patty, who was putting up the shutters at the front of the shop in preparation for the establishment's closure. As she stepped further into the shop, her dripping cape leaving a path of spots behind her, Eve all but tripped over her namesake. The black cat yowled, meowed and then leaped to the counter to lick herself.
"Oh Eve, I told you not to play there," Espella sighed.
"I still say you should consider changing the name of that little beast. Betimes I know not whether you speak to her or to me," said she of the same name.
She removed her gloves and held her hands over the fire; her movements caused the thick fabric of her cloak to brush the stove, culminating in a sizzling sound as moisture met heat. The dark-haired young woman glanced at her friend and frowned as she noted that her expression had not changed. She doubted whether Espella had truly smiled once since she'd last seen her; to Eve's own heart came a sorrowful little pang when she considered her faithful friend in such a mood.
The blonde girl approached her. "I'm so glad you came. Thank you, Eve…"
"Hmm. Yes, well…" Though she'd not admit it for all the successfully completed construction projects in the world, the elder young woman welcomed some company that dreary evening. The continual rain depressed her and being lonely always made her think of her father.
Espella continued cleaned the counters, shelves and various utensils they used. Patty, after closing up the front, gathered the empty baskets and set them just inside the pantry door. While Eve opened her cloak and let the heat of the oven reach her bones, the other two stored the leftover bread for the morrow.
"Here's that éclair you asked for," said the girl, proffering that item with one hand while in the other she gripped a broom.
"Thank you." Eve accepted the deliciously scented morsel and bit into it. "Mrs. Eclaire, this pastry is a credit to your name."
"Why, how sweet of you, my dear! It is a simple recipe but it will always be my best one. Excuse me now; I must bank the fire for the night."
The former high inquisitor moved aside, continued to consume her treat, and sidestepped Espella a couple of times. She ended up standing near the large counter on which the black feline had taken refuge. Cat-Eve unsuccessfully tried to nibble at the éclair, too, until her namesake relented and removed a small bit for the pet. Then, as if summoned by the sound of food being salivated and swallowed, a dirty white puffball bounded into the bakery.
"Constantine, what are you doing here?" Espella questioned, pausing in her sweeping motions.
The dark-haired young woman looked up from her pastry. "Za…hmph! Barnham thought he'd be better off staying here rather than going out on the boat today. I think the mutt gets seasick or some such thing."
From the spot in which he stood below the counter, the mutt growled, his sodden, grimy tail lifted toward the ceiling and one ear flattened to his head. From above, feline and young woman, both with sweet morsels at their mouths, hardly deigned to give him notice.
"I would have thought Sir Barnham would send him back here to the bakery after he left," the girl murmured, crouching to give him a little rub behind the ears.
"I'm sure he did, but it seems that dog has ideas of his own."
"He's wet and dirty. I'm sure he's hungry too."
Espella left her broom and her task and disappeared through the door at the rear of the shop, shortly returning with a bun in her hand. She knelt and held it out; Constantine forsook his self-appointed post and tore into the bread with the same purpose with which he had terrorized several farms when he was not much more than a baby.
The baker finished piling ashes over the coals and new wood, removed her apron and mitts, and yawned. "Good night, my dears. Be sure you don't stay up too late now, you hear?"
"We won't, Aunt Patty."
Placing the broom against the wall, the blonde girl extinguished all the candles save one that she carried. She reached for her friend's hand. "Let's go up to my room, Eve. We can talk there." Turning back briefly to the animals, she clicked her tongue. "Come on, Constantine, Eve."
The chimney rose through one of the walls of Espella's room, making the area habitable despite damp and chill. The elder of the two young women hung her cloak upon the hook on the door and removed her boots. She moved toward the small table near the bed while her friend covered Constantine with an old blanket. Much yapping and barking ensued as the blonde rubbed him, but when his head finally emerged between the worn folds, he was considerably cleaner; Espella smiled almost imperceptibly.
"Woof, woof! Woof!" the little fellow cried indignantly.
Turning tail, he used his nose to widen the crack in the door and in a second was gone. He ran for his master's room and, though colder than the one he'd just left, waited patiently there by the bed until his knight returned.
"He cared not for your attentions," Eve remarked dryly, glancing up from something on the table that had caught her eye and her interest.
"I know… At least he'll be comfortable now, without all that dirt." She dropped the blanket she'd utilized into a basket near the door and then plunked on the bed. "I'm sorry, Eve. I'm not very good company, am I?"
The dark-haired young woman let the pages she'd been perusing fall to their original state and approached her friend. Taking care that she did sit on the feline, she first shooed the animal and then settled herself next to the blonde girl, placing an arm loosely about her shoulders.
"And that's why you're going to tell me what's bothering you."
Espella's gaze sank and a sigh once more rose in her throat; she folded her hands in her lap. "You were right, you know." She let out her breath shakily. "It is about Dad."
Stiffening slightly, the former high inquisitor sat just a little bit straighter and put her arm closer about her friend's shoulders. "This is about more than his leaving today, isn't it?" she muttered, drawing her free hand into a fist. "Never mind what I said before, Espella. If this is just going to make you cry more, mayhap you shouldn't tell me after all."
The girl sniffled and began to fiddle with the end of one of her braids. "I love Dad, but you know he can be so…so bullheaded!"
"Like father, like daughter," Eve mused. Oh, she well knew the stubbornness of the Storyteller.
"Y-yes, I guess you're right. But I don't want that to come between us, especially after everything that happened last year!" The tears slipped silently down either side of her nose and she turned her head toward her best friend. "I put those flowers in my hair—you know the ones that my mum loved—and Dad, he…he told me to remove them, never to wear them again! We argued, Eve. I got so mad! I said things I wish I hadn't. And now he's gone to London and I don't know what to do! Oh, Eve! What am I to do? What am I going to do?!"
The elder young woman held her best friend as she sobbed. She felt woefully inadequate in properly comforting Espella and she winked back a few sympathetic tears of her own. Eve's mind whirled with all the biting things she could throw at Cantabella upon his return; she could almost loathe him as she had when she believed him to be responsible for her father's death but she wouldn't be able to bring herself to do that. Instead she resolved to gift him with a piece of her serious displeasure when he returned. At the time she did not consider how much he was probably already punishing himself for so distressing his daughter.
A spot of movement caught her eye; she lowered her gaze and saw that Espella's pet was playing with something small and white that seemed familiar. The cat continually batted it across the floor and under the little table, occasionally taking a little nip at it. At first Eve thought it was a much-torn piece of paper and her thoughts went to the book on the table, but she quickly realized that the feline's plaything was too soft and malleable to be such. Only then did she recognize it as one of the white blooms over which her friend had previously been so pleased.
Her eyes rimmed with red, Espella drew back, the dewy drops of tears still clinging to her lashes. "I'm sorry. You agreed to stay here and now all I do is blubber all over you."
"If I did not wish to be here I wouldn't be. Do stop apologizing, Espella."
In the few moments of silence that followed, the blonde girl also noticed her cat and the object with which she played. As if mesmerized she continued watching the antics of the furry little creature while a few more salty drops fell and she inhaled several shaky breaths.
"He loved your mum."
Espella choked on the air in her throat. "W-what?"
"Your dad still loves her, more than he realizes I should guess. Yes, our fathers loved our mothers." Eve swallowed a queer little lump that had risen to her own throat. "There were a few times when Father would look at me and get such a look in his eyes that I thought he was about to cry. Did you know he kept a picture of her buried in the old crate in his basement workshop? Doubtless, looking upon it was so painful that he wanted never to see it again, yet he couldn't bear to discard it…" The former high inquisitor paused to quell the flurry of emotion that welled up inside her. "Jean found it and brought it to me."
"Ohh, Eve…" the younger of the two breathed, appearing as though she could sob again.
"I'm afraid I am not one to advise you. I appreciate that you are angry with Mr. Cantabella. I should like to yell at him myself. Now 'tis my turn to say I'm sorry."
"No, no," Espella hastened to assure her while she felt around for her handkerchief. "You have helped me. I didn't think of it before, but now I know why Dad was so upset." She found the sought-after item, mopped her face and then offered it to her friend. "I wish he didn't feel that way, though. I love those sweet little flowers just as my mother did. Now I can't remember what she looked like very well. Did she have hair like mine, Eve?"
"Hers was a bit darker as I recall," replied she, lifting a blonde plait that had lost its fastening. As the young woman fingered it, the braid came undone still further. "She was fond of saying how she loved having a little sunbeam for a daughter. She always put you in braids because you were so cute in them."
"Really?" Espella breathed, her eyes filled with a bittersweet joy and her lips trembling slightly. "I don't remember that…"
Those golden tresses were like so many strands of sun-kissed silk, Eve reflected. When she was hardly more than five she was jealous of what she had then thought to be perfect hair. "Espella, where is your comb?"
"Oh, uhm… It's right over there."
She hopped up from the bed and picked up that item, lying on top of her little bookcase. Guessing what her friend had in mind, she pulled out the end of her other braid as she handed the implement to Eve. She dabbed at her tear-streaked face once more as the other young woman began to run the comb through her hair with firm strokes that were somehow also gentle.
Espella closed her eyes, took another long breath, and said, "If you don't mind, could I…see your mother's picture sometime?"
An all too silent few seconds followed, in which the fingers controlling the comb all but ceased movement. Struck with the concern that her request had hurt her friend, the blonde girl began to turn her head. A hand stayed her progress.
"O-of course, if that is your wish," Eve murmured, her voice trembling slightly. The younger of the two felt her move slightly and then resume her work. "Be still, Espella, or your hair will all be snarls."
"I suppose I could ask Dad if he still has a picture of Mum," she reflected sadly. "But he probably won't want to answer that one."
The former high inquisitor made a sound in her throat as she continued her self-appointed task. She brought the comb through the length of the blonde locks five more times and began on a sixth. "Speaking of pictures… I noticed your book on the table and looked through some of the pages."
"Oh, my sketchbook? I like to scribble people and things when I have a few spare moments. Do you like them, Eve?"
"I knew you have an affinity for artistry but I did not know how real your drawings are. I wish I had seen them sooner." She loosed her hands on Espella's hair while her friend leaned forward to snatch the book from the table. "Have you shown them to anyone?"
"Weeell…no," the girl admitted, rapidly flipping through a few pages. "I never really thought they were very good and I just did them for fun. Some of these are from a few years ago." She laughed and continued fanning the leaves of the book.
"I could tell. Your style has improved. Is that Mrs. Eclaire?"
Espella turned back a few pages and a surprisingly life-like impression of Patty smiled up at them from the paper. "I drew this on the day we sold every bit of bread in the bakery. We found out that we didn't have any for dinner and we had to make more!"
She bypassed more pages filled with quick sketches of customers, more elaborate drawings of her cat and aunt. Then began a section in which Eve, the Storyteller and sometimes a few others popped up with more regularity. The girl paused after turning to a page which depicted Barnham in shirtsleeves and apron, working at the counter as he grit his teeth and practically pulverized a stubborn lump of flour and yeast.
Espella giggled. "He still wears that exact expression when he kneads the dough!"
"Hmph. How ridiculous," Eve replied disdainfully. However, the next sweep of the comb was not as careful as the rest and she grazed an ear. "He always has to make a spectacle of himself, what with the faces and the grunts like he's training with full armor. You and Mrs. Eclaire never go that far."
The blonde girl shrugged. "I guess it's a man thing. Maybe he feels like he's locked in battle with the bread." She turned another leaf and found herself smiling at the next page, the entirety of which was filled with her best friend in the shade of pencil. "I like how this one of you turned out," she admitted candidly.
Pausing in her grooming motions, the other young woman again peered over Espella's slight shoulder. "I am biting my lip in that one. Must you capture such detail?"
"You were concentrating. That was the day you played checkers with Mr. Barnham, except I didn't bother to draw the board. You were a much more interesting subject!"
Eve rolled her eyes, unseen by her friend. "I cannot fathom how a man with all his strategy could be so terrible at the game. Hmph!"
To her mind came the image of another drawing of her, save that it had been hasty scrawled and had a dagger sticking through it. She exercised the comb a few more times as she frowningly recollected who had thrown the weapon which he'd never bothered to remove. Then, with a few more deft movements she tied a ribbon around the golden tresses and leaned back.
The covers of the book met each other as Espella reached a hand to feel her hair. "You're not going braid it or anything?"
"You know I'm not good with that," her friend replied, folding her arms. "Anything other than simple braids is beyond me. I always had one of the shades to help with mine before…"
The blonde young woman smiled softly. "Then I'm just going to have to teach you."
~O~
Barnham returned to the bakery the next morning before the women were quite finished with their breakfast. Constantine bolted from the establishment, raced across the length of cobblestones that marked the distance between them, and launched himself at his master. The knight lifted his faithful companion, uncaring that the pup's paws made a muddy mess out of his shirtfront and cloak. His face wet with more than the morning's drizzle, he ducked beneath the bakery's awning and bowed to the ladies.
"Hello, Sir Barnham!" Espella called out, though her visage lacked her usual buoyancy of spirit. "…Your trip to London went…well, I hope?" She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but then pressed her lips together firmly.
"Indeed, Miss Cantabella. The Lord Storyteller arrived safely in the city and will return in a fortnight."
Eve merely sat and viewed him rather coolly for a moment before she turned her attention back to her tea.
"Were you driving the boat back all night?" Patty demanded as she rose, plucked his cloak from the stool on which he'd thrown it, and pressed it back into his hands. "You must be tired and hungry."
"I would enjoy some breakfast, Mrs. Eclaire. I ate all that you sent with me."
He hung his damp outer garment next to the dry ones and then settled himself at the little table, whereupon Patty placed a heaping plate before him. Constantine yapped, circled his master's chair several times and then settled beneath it. Within moments he was up again to argue with a certain feline over a delectable bit of sausage that had somehow fallen on the floor.
Eve turned her gaze to the knight once more. "I trust you will be prepared to continue our work where we left off yesterday, ah…Barnham. You did us no favors yesterday by insisting on the journey. I told you someone else could well do it."
He swallowed a great mouthful of sunny eggs. "Why should I entrust another with a duty that is mine? However, this day I am at your disposal, Miss Belduke. We'll finish the renovations to the courthouse."
"Do not think you are indispensable to the work; we simply needed more hands. My concern is not that we finish, but that we finish today," she replied. Her eyes narrowed for a second. "We are already behind on the project. The townspeople wait on us to fulfil our promises for several other tasks as well."
"Understood," he said. He saluted with his knife and immediately forked another mountain of potato to his mouth.
The former high inquisitor turned to the baker. "Thank you, Mrs. Eclaire, for the splendid breakfast. Espella, I'll see you later. I have a message which I must run down to the village."
Barnham took a swig of water to wash everything down. "I would be pleased to do this errand for you, Miss Belduke. I have already been out in the rain this morning."
She turned back to him with the corners of her mouth losing a fight against gravity. "You?" she repeated as she placed one hand on her hip. "I think not. Do you not recall how the villagers ousted you when last you set foot in their part of the woods? They do not take kindly to knights."
His face darkened as he struggled to keep the grimace from his lips. "Ah…that… Erm, yes…"
The dark-haired young woman retrieved her own cloak, as dry and warm as anyone could wish on such a miserable day. "All I want from you Barnham is that you be at the courthouse at the appointed time."
Silently Espella also rose and helped tug the thick garment over her best friend's shoulders. "'Bye, Eve. Thanks for coming." Her expression was more doleful than it had been a minute beforehand.
Eve closed her cape and took her friend's hand, unseen by the others in the room, her expression having softened considerably. "I suppose you want be to promise to be back here later, hmm?" she murmured.
The blonde young woman nodded. "Will you?"
"Of course. Don't I always come back anyway?"
She tensed somewhat when Espella unexpectedly leaned forward and enveloped her in a brief embrace. Then she relaxed and the hand not trapped in the folds of her cape she placed lightly against her friend's back. Then the girl released her and she hastened from the establishment. She spared one last penetrating look to her co-worker, as if daring him to be late to the job.
They completed the renovations on the courthouse, which put Eve in a more approachable frame of mind as they turned their attentions to other buildings. The sun finally found a break in the seemingly perpetual gray clouds and then the storms turned tail and fled the area as if they were tired of their depressing job. The sodden land, soaked with so much rain, sent up mist as the bright golden rays struck it; the temperatures made everyone forget the winter. Within two weeks every growing thing in the town and the surrounding area was bathed in the fresh green promise of spring. All the streets rang with renewed labors and everyone seemed to be in vastly brighter spirits…save one.
Espella still smiled, chattered on to her aunt, kept her tongue when Barnham made a mess out of the bread, and welcomed Eve whenever she stopped by, but there were other times in which she grew silent and the troubled look returned to her eyes. The two females who were close to her frowned when they saw her thusly; Patty spoke and tried to console her, and Eve even set aside some of her extracurricular tasks and spent still more time with her friend. Still the blonde young woman fretted that she'd driven a wedge between herself and her father, and she imagined that the fact that he hadn't yet returned was the result of his desire to avoid her.
Kira dropped by the bakery one day, her usual basket of blooms hanging over her arm. After purchasing a couple loaves of bread, she hesitated. "Espella?"
She of that name lifted her head as she assumed a small smile. "Oh hello, Kira. How are you faring in your flower selling today? I hope it is going well."
"It's okay, I guess. Uh, I have some of those little star-shaped flowers that you liked so much. Would you like to buy some?"
The blonde girl's smile disappeared. Her throat worked but her mouth moved not as she struggled to find words. Patty noticed their exchange and with a furrow to her forehead she drew near her dear adoptive niece.
"Kira, perhaps you could come back another day, hm?" the baker suggested.
Espella lifted her head slightly and nearly interrupted her aunt. "N-no thank you. I'm sorry…" However, she had difficulty looking the flower seller in the eye.
"Okay, fine. Whatever." Kira marched out, her own expression having taken a turn for the worse. As her feet met the cobbles again she muttered with a little sneer, "I suppose that's what I get for trying to do someone else a favor!"
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she took no notice of the hurrying figure coming around the corner until they were mere inches from collision. A second later she found herself on the street, the stones of which suddenly seemed much harder than they had moments before. She glanced up to see a redheaded knight standing over her.
"Ugh! Why don't you watch where you're going?!" she demanded, frowning as she scrambled to retrieve her basket and the flowers which had scattered.
After a moment he also leaned down to lend his hands to the job. "I'd wager to say you were paying as little attention as I was," he said, without looking in her direction.
"Well what if I was, Mr. Smarty Greaves? You should still watch where you're going!" Her fingers were not quick enough to rescue some of the blooms which were trampled underfoot by passersby. "Look what you're done! What am I going to do with these?!" She grabbed a flower from his fingertips as he was about to pick it up.
"I suppose an apology would not satisfy you?" he asked, his face stiffly set.
"Unless you can fix my crumpled flowers…" she snapped back. "…Hardly!" She rose to her feet and scowled first at her ruined blooms and then at him.
Barnham let the contents of his hands spill into her lifted wicker. "Then would you like me to pay for the damage?"
"No." The girl hooked her basket under her arm and began stalking away again.
"Wait, Miss Kira."
She turned, her brown eyes emanating her aggravation. "What?!" she cried. "What do you want? I suppose you'd like nothing better than to throw me into the flames again!"
He flinched slightly and a rather pained look came to his eyes, only to be covered again by his steely gaze. "I merely thought I would purchase some flowers from you. But if you do not wish it then I can find them elsewhere. Good day, Miss Kira."
This time it was he who made an abrupt about-face and began to stride away from the flower girl. His lips were half lost as he pressed them together, his eyebrows lowered over fiercely glaring eyes and his fists clenched. With lowered head he took no notice of those around him; whoever passed by gave them quick looks and then continued on their ways.
"All right, all right, you win," came a feminine voice behind him. "You've already caused me enough trouble so just hurry up and pick them out, already!"
In silence he selected a few random blooms and passed the required coin to her.
"Now are we done here? I can't loiter around all day like some people, you know." She dropped the money into her pocket. "My boss is not going to be happy about this…"
"One last thing, Miss Kira."
She turned back to him with a spark of ire igniting in her eyes. "What?!"
Matching her agitated expression, the knight replied, "I would be remiss in my duties if I did not mention that two men were looking for you."
"Who were they?" One eyelid crinkled and she put her other hand around the handle of her basket.
"That I do not know. They were just tourists. On the last tourist day they made inquiries of a number of people and showed all a picture which bore something of your likeness. I questioned them and they informed me they were searching for a relative."
The flower seller gripped her wicker container with whitening knuckles. "You didn't arrest them or anything?!"
Barnham's own expression grew tighter and his eyes harder. "Was there a reason to, Miss Kira?"
"I…" She clamped her mouth shut; her eyes bespoke a frightened look, though it was more of a naughty child who faced consequences rather than stark terror. She turned so that she was no longer facing him. "No. Just forget it."
As the girl hurried away, he watched her for a moment more with creased brow. He hadn't given the two men any indication that he recognized the picture, as he reasoned it was a matter for her to decide. He would spread the word to the other knights to be especially watchful for any suspicious activity on the part of any tourist. They'd concocted a decent way of screening their potential visitors beforehand, but a determined person could likely find some way to the town regardless. Barnham's duty was to protect the town and all therein and it was something he would do without regard for favor, or disfavor, of any citizen.
Only when he entered the bakery did he realize he was still holding the flowers he'd purchased in such a hurry. As Patty was for the moment out of the kitchen, he proffered them to Espella with the careless suggestion that she might divide them between herself, Mrs. Eclaire and Eve. However, the blonde girl shied away and appeared very much like she was on the verge of tears.
Argh! These females! No man can ever figure them out! he thought, carelessly tossing the blooms to a little display table of bread and then busying himself by filling the large water jugs.
When Eve dropped by sometime later to check on her friend, both females were out for the moment. The former high inquisitor settled on a stool to wait. She watched, a half-smile lighting her face as Barnham wrestled with the bread. Rising from her seat, she stepped to the doorway and looked out, hoping that Espella's return was imminent, and then turned her gaze all around the room. She bit at her lips slightly, her eyes held a look of concern, and her gaze was distant as if she was thinking of someone not present.
"Why are these flowers here?" she questioned, stopping at the small table and picking up the somewhat wilted blooms. A few of the petals had fallen to the floor. "This cannot be anyone's idea of a new display and Espella and Mrs. Eclaire would not leave them thusly." Her arms full, she stood at the side of the counter opposite the knight, her expression demanding an explanation.
He glanced up briefly. "Indeed, I bought them. I offered them to Miss Cantabella but she did not want them."
"You did what? Zacharias Barnham, how can you be so insensitive?!"
The skin between his eyebrows wrinkled and he actually ceased torturing the dough for the moment. "What do you mean?"
"Marvelous…" she muttered, closing her eyes and placing a hand to her forehead. Opening those green-blue orbs again, she fixed them sternly on the knight. "Haven't you noticed anything about Espella in the last two weeks?"
"I suppose she has been…different of late."
Eve slammed first the flowers and then her palms on the countertop, leaned forward and glared. "You 'suppose'? Meaning you haven't actually noticed anything! Ugh, you men can be as observant as a gate post!" She paused and caught both her breath and her rising volume. No customers were faring the shop at that particular time and she didn't want to attract undue attention. "Espella has not been herself. She won't be until her father returns. In fact," she added, moving back slightly. "I've decided that you're going to bring him back."
The dough was drying to a crust on Barnham's hands as he stared at her. "But he has not sent word of his return."
"I care not. You're bringing him back. Espella needs to see him." A triumphant little smile crept to her lips and she began to think of what she was going to do with the sad blooms. She also had to decide when she was going to mention the idea which had been flowering in her mind like the green growth of the countryside. "While you're in the city you can purchase those supplies we talked about."
"But we haven't need of those for months yet…" he maintained in vain.
"It matters not. Espella needs her father. You'd best prepare the boat."
This chapter was getting to be such a whopdoodler and I knew I'd need to do something about that. I decided to chop both it and the title in half. Ho hum. Project elongation seems to happen to me a lot...
To Be Continued...
06-29-2017 ~ Published