Virtue and Venom
Chapter Two
…..
Helga knew, from as young as five years old, that they were in trouble. One day they had a cook and then suddenly she was gone and the scullery maid was the one cooking for them. They'd had six horses, then within less than a week they had three. The fixtures of the house slowly became shabbier and the kitchen garden was overrun with weeds. The acres of land they owned weren't being tilled.
Through it all, her parents and her sisters acted normally. Olga still had fine brocade gowns to wear at court, Miriam had enough wine to get her through the day and Bob had enough clout to constantly move around different houses to sweet-talk barons and counts with marriageable sons. If they even realized how bad things were getting, they showed no signs.
Except...
Except during certain nights, Olga could be heard sobbing over her fine gowns, or Miriam would have just a bit too much wine and start talking about how they were going to starve, or Bob would be back a week late and well-fed enough for them to know he had been living on someone else's money for a while.
Still, Helga was a child. What could she do?
The last servant to leave was the old wet-nurse that had been hired to take care of Helga, who stayed on to raise her when she was too old to need a wet-nurse when it became clear that nobody else was going to take care of her. In the end, the house couldn't support even her tiny salary and she had to find work elsewhere.
Helga had been despondent since Nan left, and in her own childish mind she vowed to find a way to bring her back. There weren't many ways for a child to make money, but she'd have to do something.
…..
Arnold bent at the waist, gasping for breath and clutching his aching legs. The pigtailed girl stopped just in front of him, smirking a little. The long walk hadn't taken anything out of her, though Arnold felt like his legs were going to fall off.
"There's a fallen tree over there," she said, nodding behind him. "We can take a break."
Gratefully, Arnold sank onto the log.
"How much further is it?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"About three miles," she shrugged.
Arnold groaned. It would be dark soon, and he had dragged this peasant girl miles from home with his half-witted romantic plan.
"There's a road half a mile that way," she told him, pointing towards the thickest wooded area in the forest. "It's somewhat busy, there's a town nearby. Knightsbridge. A passing cart could give you a lift if you have coin."
"I do have some coin," he admitted, thankful that he had taken Gerald's advice and hidden some on his person that the brigands hadn't found.
She declared their break over in the next minute and guided him through the forest. Brambles and jagged tree branches tore at his clothes and scratched his skin; he was going to look awful when he got back.
"It's not too late to go the long way," she said, pulling back a tree branch to let him pass.
"No, I've been lost for quite long enough, thanks," he grumbled.
"What were you doing out here, anyway?" she asked.
"I was trying to pay a visit to a woman," he answered. He did;t need to explain she was a princess.
"You risked crossing the border and getting robbed for a woman?" she said with a small laugh. "She must be the world's most beautiful woman."
"She's very beautiful," he agreed. "It would have been worth it if I had made it."
"How are you going to explain what happened to you?"
"Oh, she didn't know I was coming..."
"What?"
Helga gaped at him, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"It was supposed to be a surprise," he explained, subdued.
"Surprise or not, you wrote to her guardian, right?"
"Well, she didn't exactly have one...I don't think the nuns would have let her see any letter I sent..."
"Nuns? She's in a convent?"
Helga broke off into gales of laughter. Despite himself, Arnold's cheeks burned.
"You know an awful lot about courting for a peasant," he grumbled.
"I know enough to know that convents aren't a great source of eligible women," she chuckled.
"It's complicated," he retorted.
Helga was still laughing quietly to herself when they finally got out of the forest and onto a small dirt road. Thankfully, Arnold could just about see the castle in the distance. Someone in Knightsbridge would send word to the garrison and they would come to collect him. Even better, a farmer's cart was making its way there just behind them.
Helga stopped the donkey pulling the cart and negotiated with the driver for a bit.
"He says he can drop you off at the food market," she told Arnold. "So I'm going to leave you in his hands. Think you can make it from here?"
"Yes," he sighed, gratefully. "Thank you for your assistance, I am in your debt."
She shrugged, and turned around to walk back the way they came. But the sun was just about to set, and she was still a good half-day's walk from where she found him.
"Miss Helga!" he shouted, after asking the cart driver to wait for a moment.
"Don't tell me you lost your money?" she groaned.
"Not at all," he said, taking out a purse. "It's almost nightfall. Take this and get yourself a room at the inn. It's not safe to walk home in the dark."
She laughed at him, but she took the money all the same. Arnold watched her disappear back into the forest from the back of the cart, until he couldn't see her anymore.
…..
She should have gone to an inn. There was one in Knightsbridge, and another in Hollyfort, where she'd be going anyway to take the shortcut home. But cold, hungry and tired as she was now, she had a better use for the money.
Ten gold coins. When did I last see ten gold coins?
She'd never seen that much money.
She took five of them and hid the other five under her kirtle. With any luck, she wouldn't need more than five.
Hollyfort barely counted as a town, but what it was best known for was its debtor's prison. Many a poor farmer had found himself in those cells when a bad harvest hit. It was past midnight when she got there, but the night warden was still on duty.
"I've come to pay a debt," she announced as she walked in.
The warden looked her up and down. Her gown was stained with mud and her kirtle had little holes where branches had snagged them. She didn't look like much, she knew that.
"Whose debt?" he asked.
"Heyerdahl."
Despite taking his wife's family name, Phoebe's father was still markedly foreign and though he had never incurred a debt in his own name, his old employer had left him to take the fall for his unpaid taxes. Phoebe and her mother hadn't a hope of raising enough to bail him out.
"Four gold coins," the warden sneered. "You got that?"
"Yes, as it happens."
She took out the coins and spread them on the table. The warden bit one of them; he looked suspicious.
"Where did you get these, then?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" Helga shot back.
"Suppose not. Heyerdahl! You're free to go!"
Phoebe's father didn't understand until the warden unlocked the door and pushed him in Helga's general direction. He was wretchedly pale and thin, with huge circles under his eyes, but when he saw her he was lit up from the inside. A babble of gratitude poured from his mouth, unintelligible but unmistakable.
On the way home, she whittled down a stick for him to walk with and they took frequent breaks so he could rest. Even walking was a strain for him. When Helga's home was in sight, the sun was just starting to rise.
Phoebe was already outside the hermitage, gathering dried grass to stoke the fire under the stove. Her father burst into tears when he saw her, so it was left to Helga to shout to her. When Phoebe looked up, the dried grass tumbled to the ground and her hand flew to her mouth. Her mother emerged from the cave to see what was wrong, and she too gaped as though she were seeing a ghost.
But then the weakness that had held Mr Heyerdahl back broke and he threw down his stick, ran as fast as he could on his shaky legs into the arms of his wife and daughter. They laughed, they cried, they hugged so tight it was like they were afraid to let go again.
…..
"I snuck in and put a pot on the stove," Phoebe whispered.
Her father had fallen into a deep but comfortable sleep and she didn't want to wake him, but she made sure that distracted as she was she warned Helga about what might be waiting for her back home.
"Miriam said something about duck," Helga mumbled. "I don't think she would have remembered...what time was it when you put it on the stove?"
"It was close to sunset," Phoebe answered. "Nobody was waiting in the dining room."
"Thanks, I think I'm still in for an earful," Helga sighed.
"What happened to you?" Phoebe asked.
"Well, to make a long story short, some rich kid got himself in trouble in the woods, I helped him out and he gave me some gold to thank me."
"Don't get me wrong, we're grateful," Phoebe said. "But you could have used that money yourself..."
"For what? Replacing the candlesticks?" Helga laughed. "Look, once he's back to his full strength he can help me with the tilling. So it's an investment."
"Whatever you say," Phoebe said with a small smile.
Phoebe and her family were the closest the Pataki household had to servants, but Helga's family had no idea the Heyerdahls were living in the hermitage. Nobody respectable would rent a house to an Asian man and his Jewish wife, no matter how hard they worked, but Helga offered them the hermitage for a pittance rent and in return for keeping the kitchen stocked. She was only ten when she made that deal, and for six years it had kept the Patakis afloat without them knowing.
"This rich kid," Phoebe mused. "Any idea who he is?"
"I dunno, some baron or something," Helga shrugged. "He was trying to see some convent girl and got caught at the border."
"It wasn't Helmsly and his men, was it?"
"I don't think so."
"Helga," Phoebe said insistently. "Did you see who was leading them?"
"No, I just saw two goons and then we lost them," Helga assured her.
"Okay," Phoebe sighed, relieved. "Don't give him any reason to come after you."
"I don't intend to."
…..
She pulled off her muddy gown as soon as she walked into the house, tossing it in the corner to wash later. Her kirtle followed, but the smock was still in good nick so she left that on. Exhaustion hit her like a rock to the head, and though she could have used some bread or even just a drink of water, she stretched out on the straw mattress across from the stove.
And then, of course, the bell calling for assistance rang.
Olga. She would be up this early.
Groaning, Helga lifted herself off the mattress and trudged upstairs to start the day.
