Page 6 of The Wise Daughter
“Why are you running, sir? That’s highly suspicious behavior.”
The man grunted and grappled with Aaron in the wet grass, dropping the package with a metallic clank. “Off me, you brute!”
“Not until I have a word with you.” Aaron eyed the satchel, keeping his hands gripped around the man’s struggling arms. Aaron would never be able to reach for the satchel while scuffling like this on earth which was turning muddier the closer they edged to the riverbank. “Tell me what’s in that satchel.”
“Who are you to order me about, the duke?” the man sneered, then grunted as he shoved Aaron, giving no indication that he understood how precisely he guessed.
Before Aaron knew what was happening, the man’s elbow connected with his jaw. Aaron flinched but sensed the man’s foot in motion next. Aaron swerved so the kick only brushed against his thigh.
Aaron determined not to strike the man back unless he had to or until he knew for certain that the man was a thief. Aaron endured three more hits, one to his face and two to his stomach as he tried to pin the man’s arms to the ground. He would have succeeded were it not for the pair of hands that grabbed his shoulders from behind and yanked him off.
In one swift spin, Aaron pulled out of the newcomer’s grip and assessed his height and size, which were similar to his own. Two against one. Aaron had taken on two men before in his younger days, having had a fair number of scrapes at school, but as the newcomer movedin, distracting Aaron, the pudgy man delivered another fierce blow to his side, giving the newcomer time to grab Aaron again in a secure hold against his chest. Aaron shot his elbow into the man’s face and kicked until the man grunted and let go, but a third and fourth man stepped out from behind trees, their faces covered with cloth, their clothes filthy with dirt.
Aaron breathed heavily. With men before him and behind, and a river to his left, his only option for escape was a field to his right. He didn’t want to run. He didn’t like his odds, but he wanted to know who these men were and what they had taken. With a quick lunge, he went for the satchel, but arms grabbed him before he could reach it.
One of the newcomers picked up the satchel and kicked Aaron. “What do we have here?” His voice was rough and guttural.
The pudgy man answered, “Just a common thief. He was trying to take my satchel.”
All four men erupted with laughter. Alcohol and smoke wafted off their breaths, making Aaron’s stomach lurch. He considered revealing his identity as the duke, but what would be the use in that? He was at their mercy.
He did his best to infuse his voice with authority, a skill he was still learning to master. “This is a mistake, sirs. The duke is growing wise to your games, but he might be lenient if you give yourselves up now and return what you’ve stolen.”
“Did you hear that, men? The duke might be lenient! Shall we prance back to the castle now or tomorrow afternoon when we can stay for tea?” The men’s laughter erupted anew.
Aaron used the time they spent mocking to memorize their eyes. Dark brown, heavily set under thick brows, light brown that slightly bulged, greyish blue that held no distinction. He never saw the eyes of the man who held him, but he tried to memorize their voices and laughs as they made taunts, storing away the information to root out these men once he escaped their hold.
The pudgy man mumbled something to one of the others and ran into the woods. The man who had addressed Aaron spoke again.
“You’re quite amusing, sir. Pity our little club don’t need a jester at the moment.” This earned more laughs. “See, we don’t want trouble, but we can’t have youmaking a big fuss over us either. We’ll just lighten your load and bruise you up enough to prevent you from following us.”
His foot connected with Aaron’s stomach. Arms tightened around him as another man patted his sidesand relieved him of his leather coin pouch.
“That should teach you not to bother us again. If you do, you’ll get much worse than what we give you tonight. Oh, and next time you see the duke…” He looked conspiratorially at the others. “Give him our regards.”
The man who had spoken sneered and raised his fist. The last thing Aaron remembered thinking as he absorbed a horrendous blow to the side of his head was that Carver had been right.
Nora stepped outside the tawdry inn before anyone could see the tear slip down her cheek. The peeling wood sign proclaiming The Ship and Crown creaked in the swaying wind. Smells of roasted lamb and seasoned potatoes reached her but didn’t tempt her appetite. She could hear too clearly the clanking glasses and laughter of men playing cards.
Her father had insisted they stop to eat, claiming he didn’t want to meet the duke on an empty stomach, but just as Nora had suspected, there was more that interested him there than food. No sooner had they entered, than he went to join the men in the back.
“Just a quick game,” he had said. “I’ll keep it friendly. You have nothing to fear. We have nothing left to lose and everything to gain.”
Nora refused to watch him break his promise to her yet again. She rubbed her arms, grateful she still had her riding habit to keep her warm from the evening chill that was settling in. She shouldn’t be out alone at night in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, but she felt safer in the fresh air than in the stifling inn where men could ogle her while her father nursed delusions of winning back their fortune.
No more self-pity!
She was going to carve out her own path as best she could. As soon as the duke received them, she was going to drop to her knees and beg to be admitted as a servant. She had already learned to work like a maid over the last month as she and her father lost their servants. Maybe in time she could save a little money for a cottage of her own.
The evening air grew fragrant with honeysuckle and the promise of rain. Shops were closed. Lights flickered in windows as people settled in for the evening. No one was out but her. The rushing sounds of a river drew her to a stone arch bridge just a short ways down the road. Framed on each side with bushes and ivy, the weathered stone seemed to grow from the earth like ancient roots.
Her mother’s words, spoken to her as a child, came to her mind.
A bridge, my little Honora, is a most enchanting place. When you stand in the middle, you stand between two worlds; the one where you’ve been and the one where you are going, your past and your future. When you stand in the middle, close your eyes and make a wish.
Those words, infused with wispy wonder, still carried sway in Nora’s memories. Despite the large number of years since her last earnest wish, Nora ached for her mother and decided to revive the childhood habit.
When she reached the middle of the bridge at its highest point, she ran her fingers lightly along the uneven stone, rough beneath her fingertips except where patches of moss grew. There were a great many things she and her father desperately needed and a great many yearnings she felt were too sacred for anything but prayer. So tonight, she would wish for something she didn’t need but had always wanted, the one thing she knew she stood no chance of ever finding.
