Seasons, page 25
“Hello, Jess,” said Joss. He smirked and added, “Sorry I missed your birthday. You’re terribly spry for an old lady who’s hit the half-century mark.”
She punched him in the arm hard enough that he was sure he’d have a bruise for days. “Brat! Just wait, two more years, and it’ll be you! Let me go change into a proper gown before Joris sees me and goes spare—then we can catch up until dinner.”
“Later, then,” said Joss. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and strode off to change out of the linen trousers she insisted on wearing for riding. It made perfect sense to Joss, who saw women in trousers all the time. Joris was a stodgy lump, though, always had been, and was too concerned with how things looked.
Half an hour later, he and Jessamine were out on the back patio, which had a beautiful, wide view of the soft, rolling hills covered in narrow rows of green vines, with the occasional house or winery or shed scattered here and there, and puffy dark green oaks filling in the hollows and ravines.
Jessamine was telling him about her friend Verity’s granddaughter, a girl named Alisse. “It’s such a shame,” she said. “The girl is only seventeen, and clearly with child. Verity is sure she has no regular young man, and she refuses to say who the father is. Even if she’s determined not to marry him, his family should at least take some responsibility for the baby.”
“If she doesn’t want to marry him, that might be the trouble,” Joss pointed out. “Her parents can’t try to march her to the altar if they don’t know who to march with her.”
“I suppose so,” said Jess. “It’s still too bad.”
Joss nodded but said, “It is, but I’m sure she has her reasons.”
* * *
• • •
Dinner was loud and boisterous, with fifty-two at the big tables in the dining hall. In addition to Jessamine’s family, their brother Jarvin had come with his wife, one of his sons, the daughter-in-law and three grandchildren. Joris’ son Jevan, the second heir to the Barony, lived at the manor with his wife and two children, and Joris’ two daughters had come home for Spring Fair and brought their own families.
Vannilyn’s end of her table were all children over ten, of which there were quite a few. The younger ones were eating in the nursery under the supervision of what was likely not enough maids.
Joss found himself the center of a crowd of children after dinner. He was pelted with questions, demands for stories, and requests for rides on Dash.
“Hardly anyone ever rides a Companion other than the Herald,” he explained as gently as he could. “But I happen to know there are at least three ponies in the stable, so I’m sure you’ll all get to ride while you’re here.”
“It’s not the same, Uncle Joss!” Jevan’s daughter Jassilyn complained. She was twelve and got excited enough about horses, let alone Companions.
“You’re right, it’s not. But it’ll have to do.” He ruffled her fair hair, which was in two long braids, but had a cloud of loose, curling hairs that’d escaped her plaits and seemed to be trying to escape her head all together. Jassilyn wasn’t the neatest of young girls, but Joss figured she had plenty of time for all the Young Lady business later.
* * *
• • •
The next day began in a buzz of activity. Vannilyn was ruthless about drafting everyone capable of working.
She spent the early morning with Delinda, then they both descended upon the Fair Meadow and got everyone busy. Joss spent the day hauling barrels and timbers and rolls of canvas and putting up stalls and tents along with other men from the neighborhood.
Vannilyn and Delinda went dashing back and forth across the meadow, supervising and giving instructions, both together and separately.
Joss wanted nothing more than to head across the meadow, sneak up behind Delinda, and stuff a handful of grass down her back, as he’d done over and over when they were children. She’d gotten him back with beetles or caterpillars, and once she’d emptied a leather pouch of ants on his head. The scurrying, biting little things had gotten all over him and into his clothes; he’d been covered with itchy red bites for over a week.
She’d apologized about that and swore she hadn’t realized they bit quite so badly. Most ants in the neighborhood didn’t. Her mother had made her come every morning and clean his horse’s stall out for a month, and Delinda had only grumbled about it a little bit.
That had been when they were children, though. Joss grinned at the memory, but left the grass alone.
Late that afternoon, when Joss was standing next to a water barrel getting a drink, Delinda approached. “How are you doing?” she asked.
“Fine. It’s warm, but Vannilyn has nothing on our Armsmaster when it comes to cracking the whip and making folks work, so I’m somewhat accustomed.”
Delinda laughed and nodded. “We’ve made good progress. We’ll have a wonderful Fair opening tomorrow, if the weather cooperates.”
“Leave some milk out for the pishkies just in case,” Joss said with a teasing grin.
She laughed again and said, “I just might!” Then leaned to look around him and shouted, “Nevis! You drop that mudball this second and get back to work!” She glared at a young boy across the field who was hurrying away, his shoulders hunched, by the time Joss turned round to look; then she huffed. “At least it wasn’t a pouch of ants.”
Joss threw back his head and laughed. “I was just thinking about that earlier! You were such a wild little beast back then!”
“We both were, don’t try to deny it! I’m sure all our sneaking and plotting and running and climbing and adventuring about is what made you a good Herald!”
He laughed again and nodded. “Likely so.”
She gave him a pishkie grin, then turned and bustled off to whatever was next on her list, and Joss jogged over to help three men lugging a huge iron grill across the grass.
* * *
• • •
The sun rose the next day on a drizzly morning, but the rain stopped during breakfast, and by the time Vannilyn dashed off to fetch her cloak, even the grass had mostly dried.
Folk gentle and common, wealthy and poor, gathered on the Fair Meadow by noon. Vannilyn stood upon a wooden platform decked with painted canvas and draped with flower swags and made a speech about how love bound family and friends and communities together. She introduced a trio of minstrels who’d be playing during the festival, then declared the Fair open.
Joss had always loved the Spring Fair. He wandered among the vendors’ booths, looking for baubles to give as fairing gifts. Vannilyn had mentioned on the way to the meadow that the adults in the family had long since arranged for each child to get a token.
There were fifty-four of them, she informed him. If all the adults tried to give something to each child, they’d beggar the family, and those who lived at a distance would have to hire wagons to get all their baubles home. Therefore the limit, and Joss was much relieved.
He ended up buying hair ornaments for Jessamine and his sisters-in-law, an embossed leather wristband for his brother Jarvin, who wore that sort of thing all the time, and a carved wooden pen for Joris, who’d likely appreciate something businesslike.
One of the vendors had a headscarf with lines of tiny embroidered ants trailing all over it. He laughed and bought it to give to Delinda.
The sun set and the dance music began. Children ran about in the dark, playing hide-and-find in the shadows, while mothers put babies down to sleep in baskets, and the youngsters who weren’t quite children anymore vanished into the dark for some privacy.
It was late enough that some families had bundled up their children and headed home, when a slow and halting shadow came out from between two trees. Joss only noticed her because he had a habit of noticing everything. He was about to dismiss her when she suddenly cried, “Mama!” and staggered across the grass, throwing herself into the arms of a sturdy woman standing near one of the closed and draped booths.
Joss whispered apologies to his dance partner and moved toward the young woman and her mother.
“Perda, Perda, what happened?” The older woman guided her daughter over toward a torch, then gasped. “What happened? Who did this?”
“I want to go home, Mama.” Perda sobbed and clung to her mother. She had a blackened eye and a split and bleeding lip. Her skirt and bodice were disarranged, one of her underblouse’s sleeves fouled in the armhole of her bodice; she looked as if she’d dressed in a hurry and with no care at all.
Joss felt his jaw tighten. He straightened up and looked around, marking the people present one by one, looking for anyone who seemed furtive, anyone who was trying to leave by himself. No one stood out.
He approached Perda and her mother, and said, “What happened, lass? Tell us, and we’ll make it right as much as we can.”
Perda shook her head violently, refusing to even look at Joss.
He stepped back and let her mother tend to her—holding her, rubbing her back, whispering to her. Finally the girl stopped crying, sinking deeper into her mother’s embrace. Joss caught her mother’s eye, and the woman nodded.
He stepped near again and said in a low voice, “Perda? I’m Herald Joss. Please tell me who hurt you? I want to keep him from hurting anyone else, and only you can help me do that.”
Perda sniffled and turned her head, looking up at him.
She wasn’t a pretty young woman, but Joss knew that had little to do with this kind of assault. Her features were blunt, and she’d likely have her mother’s jowls in another twenty years, perhaps less. She was sturdy built, short and stout, as many from this area were. She’d be capable of hard work every day, and that was valued among the folk, even if it wasn’t the fairy-story image of a princess.
Perda stared at him, her expression fearful and somewhat dubious. He repeated, “Please?”
“It was Coltrey,” she whispered. “We were in an oak grove, talking and such, and I kissed him a few times. But he wanted more, and I didn’t want to. I said no, but he wouldn’t listen! He just . . . he’s stronger than me. He made me. I didn’t want to, I swear!”
She started crying again and buried her face in her mother’s shoulder once more.
Joss closed his eyes hard and took a deep breath, then turned and went to find Delinda. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they were going to have.
Delinda wasn’t hard to find, and Ruban was right near her. Joss drew them both aside and said, “A young woman has made an accusation against Coltrey. I need to speak with him. Do you know where he is?” Joss wasn’t sure he’d recognize Coltrey, not having seen him in some years.
“What kind of accusation? What rubbish is this?” Ruban glared at Joss, his hands fisted, and made no attempt to modulate his voice.
Joss, firmly in Herald mode, looked Ruban in the eye and said, “She’s been beaten up some, and he forced himself upon her.”
“Rubbish! The girl’s deluded, or she has some grudge against Coltrey!”
Joss said, “That’s as may be. If he didn’t do this, I’ll confirm that, and we’ll find out who did. But I need to talk to Coltrey.”
Ruban scowled and leaned forward, but Delinda gripped his wrist and tugged him toward her. Her voice lowered, she said, “Arguing will just stretch this out. We’ll help Herald Josswyn investigate, and Coltrey will be proven innocent all the sooner.”
Ruban huffed and looked down at the grass. Joss saw him take a deliberate breath, then another, before nodding and stepping back.
Delinda released his wrist and turned to Joss, saying, “I saw him go behind the pie tent a time ago,” then strode off.
Joss followed her into the darkness with Ruban trailing behind.
Behind the large tent where the pie competitions were held, a group of youngsters was sprawled out on the grass, gathered in the flickering light of a small fire.
“Coltrey!” she called. “Are you here?”
After a pause, one of the boys near the fire said, “He’s not here, Mrs. Sand. He went off to meet a girl a while back.”
Joss saw Delinda’s jaw clench. She nodded and said, “Thank you. Which direction?”
The youngsters looked at one another, then pointed.
It took some searching, but they eventually found Coltrey on the edge of the Fair Meadow, on his way back from wherever he’d been.
“Coltrey! Where have you been?” called Delinda.
The young man looked up, his eyes wide. “Mother? I was, well, walking.”
“Alone?”
He squirmed. “No?”
“Who were you with?”
“Mother!” He looked shocked and embarrassed. “I can’t—I mean, I’d rather not say!”
Joss squeezed Delinda’s shoulder and stepped forward. “Were you with Perda?”
“Perda?” He looked even more confused. “No.”
“Perda!” Ruban was right there of a sudden, his anger bubbling up. “That sow is claiming that my son forced her?”
Coltrey yelped, “Forced?!” but his father barreled on.
“He could have any girl in the neighborhood! Only an idiot would think he’d want to touch Perda!”
Joss became aware of a crowd gathering behind them and gave a mental groan. “That’s enough of that,” he said, projecting all the authority he could at Ruban. “This is easy enough to settle. I’ll Truth-Spell Coltrey, and we’ll know for certain.”
“You’re not casting any magic on my son! It’s an insult to even suggest he might have done such a thing, and to that girl!”
Joss kept half an eye on Coltrey, expecting him to relax at least a little at his father’s declaration, but instead the boy said, “No, do it. If we can settle this right now, then why not?”
“No!” Ruban stepped between Coltrey and Joss, glaring like he was willing to throw a punch to defend his son. Delinda said, “Ruban!” but he scowled at her.
“I won’t shut up, and I won’t let this bastard cast his magic on my son. I care about his reputation, even if you don’t.”
“Ruban! That’s mad! Coltrey says he wants to be Truth-Spelled! He wouldn’t say that if he were guilty!”
“Of course he’s not guilty! Someone is trying to drag our name in the mud! That girl bears some grudge, or someone put her up to it, someone—”
“Ruban!” Delinda got right up in his face and glared. She was small but fierce, always had been.
Coltrey stepped up and touched Joss’s arm. He whispered, “Mother will win, she always does. Let’s get on with it.”
Joss nodded and took a few breaths, relaxing his mind before beginning the rhyme. He pictured the Vrondi, the foggy wisps summoned by the spell. Over and over, until Coltrey’s head glowed blue.
“Were you with Perda this evening?” Joss asked.
Coltrey said, “No.” The blue glow remained, clear and steady.
“Have you ever lain with Perda?”
“No.”
“Have you ever forced yourself upon any woman?”
“No.”
Well, that was clear enough. Although it left more questions.
“There,” snapped Ruban. Delinda had indeed, it seemed, won their argument, but they stood an arm’s length away, and Ruban was still glowering. “He’s innocent, as he said before. You’ll leave him be now.”
“I shall,” said Joss. “Thank you, Coltrey.” Joss nodded to the three before walking off, back across the Meadow to where he’d left Perda and her mother. The girl was standing in the circle of her mother’s arms, but no longer leaning into her. She seemed a bit more aware, a bit more sure of herself.
“Perda? Would you mind if I cast a Truth Spell on you, and had you repeat for me what happened?”
She looked up at him, shrinking just a bit. “Will it hurt?”
“No, not at all.” He gave her an encouraging smile, and she nodded, moving a step away from her mother. Half the neighborhood had followed him and they all circled up around Perda, her mother and Joss. He tried to ignore them and cast the spell once more.
When the blue glow appeared around Perda, he said, “Go ahead, tell me what happened, just as you did before.”
She glanced around, then locked her eyes on his face. “I was by some oaks with Coltrey. We were kissing and such, but he wanted to keep going, and I didn’t want to. I told him no, but he forced me.”
The blue glow stayed steady. Every word was the truth.
Joss said, “Thank you, Perda,” and ended the spell.
The crowd muttered and shuffled, and he heard a few curse words. Before he could think what to do next, another young woman stepped forward and said, “He forced me too. I didn’t think nobody would believe me.” She looked at Perda, and suddenly they were hugging and sobbing on each other.
The new girl was thin and bony, with a receding chin and unfortunate teeth. Joss could understand why she’d been hesitant to step up; so many thought only pretty girls were raped, especially by handsome young men.
Another girl stepped forward. “And me. Last fall, at the Fair.” She went up to Perda and the other girl and put her arms around them.
After a long pause, another young woman stepped out of the crowd and said, “And I.” Her waist was thicker than it should have been, and Joss was suddenly sure that this was Alisse, Verity Callan’s granddaughter. She walked over to the other girls and was absorbed into their huddle of sorrow and comfort.
Joss’s mind whirled. So many! So many stepping forward, at this time and place. There were likely more who weren’t present or couldn’t quite scrape up their courage. Someone was stalking the young women of the neighborhood like a sandlion stalking a flock of goats.
And they were all young women, not yet twenty, any of them. Joss imagined Jassilyn cornered in the dark and instinctively brushed a hand over his hip where he had a blade strapped under his tunic.
