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always valued highest the objects for which he paid the most. He quickened his
step. It was already dark and he was late, she would be waiting for him. He
rubbed his hands together in expectation of her gratefulness. He opened the
door of his chamber and walked through the bedroom. The girl was there,
waiting. She was actually in his bed, tucked beneath the covers for warmth,
with only her head showing.
"I see you could resist me no longer." Maybor began unlacing his tunic. He was
puzzled at first when she did not reply, but then decided she was feigning
sleep or shyness.
Maybor liked to play games as much as the next man and found his interest
growing.
He took off his robe and tunic and then pulled off his leggings. He stood
naked and erect. The girl kept her eyes firmly shut. "So you are too modest to
look upon me, are you?" He strode toward the bed, his ardor swelling. "Then I
must look upon you!" With that he tugged the covers off the bed.
He reeled back in horror, gorge rising in his stomach. The girl was skinned
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from the neck down. Her body was a mass of red flesh. "Oh my God, oh my God."
Maybor's knees weakened beneath him. He fell to the floor and vomited, his
whole body racked with spasms.
Twenty-four
Jack awoke and was eager to be up and on his way. Melli was still asleep, but
the old woman had obviously been up for some time as the fire was well stoked
and there was porridge cooking in the pot.
She smiled her good morning and put finger to lip, urging him not to speak;
she wanted Melli to sleep a little longer.
She ladled some porridge into a bowl and topped it with a spoonful of pig
lard. Before she handed the bowl to him, she slipped something into his hand.
Jack looked down to see one shiny gold coin. He immediately went to give it
her back-a gold coin to the old woman probably represented five years of
savings. She shook her head insistently and forced the coin back on him.
Because they could not speak, Jack could neither protest nor thank her; he
suspected that was the way she wanted it.
Jack enjoyed the pale warmth of the early morning kitchen. The banked fire and
the smell of pork in the cauldron reminded him of life in the castle. He felt
the need to be busy. He wanted to feel the soft touch of flour beneath his
fingers and the familiar tang of yeast in his nostrils. He stood up and began
to look around the kitchen for what he needed. His days at Castle Harvell were
behind him now; at least by baking bread he could ensure they weren't
forgotten.
"What you doing, boy?" whispered the old woman.
"I thought I'd bake you some loaves. It's the only thing I can repay you
with."
"There's no oven for baking, I take my dough to the village."
"You have flour and yeast and plenty of pig fat?"
"That I do."
"Then I'll make pitchy bread."
The woman brought out the ingredients and Jack measured the flour into a bowl
and set it to warm by the fire. He mixed milk and water, not adding the yeast
until the liquid was warm to the touch. Master
Frallit swore that the secret of good pitchy bread was not to combine the
ingredients until they were as
"warm as the blood of a lustful virgin." Once Jack had mixed in eggs and pig
fat, he set the batter to rise.
It would be two full hours before it was light enough to form the countless
tiny holes that gave pitchy bread its unique texture.
Jack was surprised to find he had an audience. Melli was awake and quietly
watching him. There was an unfamiliar expression on her pale face. She smiled
gently. For one brief moment Jack let his thoughts arch upward. Was there
something between them? Melli's expression was so tender; her eyes so dark and
expressive as she looked upon his face. He began to feel self-conscious under
her scrutiny: his arms were brushed with flour and there was grease beneath
his fingertips. He resisted the urge to brush himself clean, to straighten his
hair, to turn his back. He was a baker's boy and he would not pretend
otherwise.
Let her see him for what he was.
Melli was the first to look away. She stood up and poured herself a cup of
buttermilk. Her hand was shaking as she put down the jug.
Determined not to rush, Jack picked up the cloth and began to wipe the lard
from his fingers. He wondered what had happened between them yesterday. She
had grown cold and afraid all of a sudden, as if she were looking beyond the
present. He didn't want to think about the future. The past weeks had
demonstrated to him that it was anything but set. Why, less than two months
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back he thought he would be a baker for life, and now he didn't even know
where he'd be spending the next night.
As a baker he would have led a secure and stable life, food on his table,
warmth and shelter, but Jack knew he wanted more now. The world of the castle
kitchens seemed small and confining. It was true that he had been forced from
it, but now he realized it had freed him to do what he wanted, to shape his
own future. Never mind that Melli had seen bleakness ahead; nothing was
preordained, he could change things for the better.
"Here you go, lad." The old woman handed him a new tunic and a cloak. "Try
them on while the batter's rising, see of they fit. They were my husband's and
unfortunately he was not as tall and broad as you are."
Jack pulled the tunic on. It was a little tight. "Hmm, if you were only
staying one more day I could alter it a bit more."
"It will do fine. I thank you for everything." Jack held the woman's gaze. He
knew he would insult her if he mentioned the coin and so did not.
"Your turn, my girl." She held out a heavy wool dress, plain but beautifully
colored. "This should fit you. I
have taken the hem down." Melli looked a little reluctant to take her dress
off, so Jack volunteered to step out for a while so she could change.
The day had begun clean and chill, no sign of rain-a good day for traveling.
He walked down the dirt track to the road and looked east. Halcus, Annis,
Bren-they all lay ahead, places of wonder and possibility. He almost wished he
could walk away now, alone, so avid was he to begin his future. He wanted to
be free from running and fear, to walk a path without having to look back.
Suddenly, the image of the terrified mercenaries being blasted from their
horses flashed before his eyes.
It was a warning-this was what he was capable of. He was unpredictable, a
danger to those around him.
Jack shuddered involuntarily, his mood of optimism gone in an instant. He
headed back to the farm, feeling the need for company.
He entered the small door, bowing his head to get through. He was met by a
beautiful sight: Melli had put on the deep blue dress; the color matched her
eyes and complemented her dark hair. This, thought
Jack, was Lord Maybor's daughter. How could he have thought, even for an
instant, that a girl as high born and proud as Melli could be interested in
him?
"Just in time for hot cakes," cried the old woman. She'd turned the batter
onto the baking stone, and the pitchy bread was almost done. Catching Jack's [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]