A Time of Justice. Katharine Kerr
horses pick their own way through the streets.
In the middle of town Jill and Rhodry found the market square, cluttered with booths, built all anyhow, and farmers with produce spread out on the ground wherever they could find a bare spot. Through it all wandered shabby women with baskets on their arms, elegant women with a servant trailing behind to carry their purchases, young men hanging round and merely watching the passing show, servants hurrying on errands. Jill and Rhodry picked their way through heaps of cabbages and baskets of eggs, walked past a man with a stack of round yellow cheeses, and generally looked over the various rural people come to town to sell.
Eventually they saw an old woman kneeling on the ground behind a blanket, spread with bunches of tied kitchen herbs, basil, chervil, and rosemary, both fresh and dried. Her grey hair was neatly caught back with the black headscarf of a widow, and her faded brown dress was scrupulously clean. When Jill knelt down in front of her, the old woman raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘You don’t look like you do much cooking, lass.’
‘Well, actually, I’m looking for a different kind of herb, but I was wondering if you knew a woman who deals in physic.’
‘Here, there’s a fine apothecary in town. Duryn’s his name, and he has a shop over by the west gate.’
‘Well, er ah, you see, I was hoping to find a woman with herb lore, not a man.’
The old woman sighed in faint disgust, looked at Rhodry who was hovering nearby, sighed again, then crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Jill.
‘Now you should have thought of such things before you ran off with a handsome silver dagger,’ the old woman snapped. ‘Oh, your poor family! Is it too late for you to ride home?’
‘Far too late,’ Jill said, thankful that she was lying about this supposed pregnancy. ‘They’ll never take me back now.’
‘Well, my heart aches for you, lass, but you waded into this mucky river, and now you’ll just have to dry your own clothes. You lasses! Ye gods! Thinking you can roll around with any man who takes your fancy and not have to give the Goddess the tribute she demands. Lasses weren’t like this in my day, they weren’t. We knew the right side of the blanket from the wrong one. Now it’s a nasty impious thing you’re thinking of, and even if I could do a thing about it, I wouldn’t, and neither would any honest woman, neither. You’d best get yourself to the temple and beg the priestesses to do something about that man of yours. No doubt he’ll try to run out on you, but our gwerbret will put a stop to that if the Holy Ladies ask him. Lasses! Ye gods, didn’t you think?’
Jill hastily rose and began babbling something about having to leave. The old woman followed and caught a startled Rhodry by the arm.
‘You’d best do the right thing by this lass and marry her, silver dagger,’ she announced. ‘Maybe she was stupid, but you lads are the scum of the earth, getting lasses with child and then riding on again. You had the fun of getting the baby, and now you’d best turn your hand to supporting it.’
This tirade was attracting quite a crowd. The cheese seller strolled over, the egg woman hurried up – everywhere folk stopped and turned to listen. When a scarlet-faced Rhodry tried to stammer out some excuse, the crowd snickered and grinned. A couple of stout older men, one of them quite well-dressed in the checked brigga of a merchant, trotted over and made the old woman bows.
‘Now what’s this, Gwedda?’ the merchant said. ‘Has this lad dishonoured this poor lass?’
‘He has, and now she’s with child. You men! A rotten pack, all of you.’
‘I’m going to marry her!’ Rhodry squealed. ‘I swear it! Come on, Jill!’
Rhodry grabbed her arm and dragged her along as he shoved their way through the snickering crowd. Once they got clear of the market square, they ran all the way back to their inn. As soon as they got into the refuge of the dark smoky tavern room, Rhodry grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.
‘You and your ideas! You might have warned me!’
‘I figured you wouldn’t have gone along with it if you’d known.’
‘Cursed right! All I want now is to get out of here. Everyone’s going to be smirking every time we walk out on the streets.’
‘There’s still the bounty. We can’t just ride away from it.’
Rhodry groaned. Jill was about to say somewhat soothing when she noticed a little boy wearing torn brigga and the sleeveless remains of a shirt hovering in the doorway. Thinking he was a hungry beggar child, she went over to offer him a copper. He took it tight in one grubby fist and looked her over with solemn dark eyes.
‘Be you that lass who was in the market? The one they was laughing at?’
‘I am. What do you think about that?’
‘Naught. My Gram said that she wagers she could help you.’
‘Oh, does she now?’ Jill knelt down to look him in the face. ‘And who is your Gram?’
‘Just my Gram. She lives on our farm. She said I should find you, like, and tell you.’
‘An, I see. And where is your farm?’
‘Not far. She’s gone back with the wagon. Do you want to come back with me?’
‘I do, and here, I’ve got a horse. You can ride it, too.’
The boy grinned to reveal missing front teeth. Jill supposed that he was too young to even know what kind of errand he was running. She told him to wait and hurried back to Rhodry, who was less than pleased at the thought of her going off alone.
‘I don’t want to alarm old Gram,’ Jill said. ‘Besides, usually this kind of woman won’t speak in front of a man. Let’s not put her off. She’s the only clue we’ve got so far.’
‘Oh, well and good, then. But don’t drink whatever it is that she brews up for you, will you? The Lord of Hell only knows what it’ll do to you.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ve a plan in mind.’
Jill saddled up her horse, lifted the boy up to sit behind the saddle, then mounted, following his direction to go to the north gate of the city. He was so entranced with getting to ride on a real warhorse that she had to keep reminding him to tell her the right road, but they finally found the farm, about three miles to the northeast. In the middle of fields of wheat and vegetables stood a sprawling compound behind a low earthen wall, the family house, the cow barn, the well and pigsty all jumbled up together among the dung heaps and the haystacks. When they rode in the gate, a pair of mangy yellow hounds ran up barking to greet them. Jill dismounted and set the boy down.
‘Mam and Da are still out in the fields,’ he said. ‘That’s why Gram said to bring you now.’
Gram herself came strolling out of the house. A stout hard-muscled woman with gnarled hands, she was wearing a black headscarf and a brown dress, pulled up into her dirty kirtle to leave her ankles and muddy bare feet free. She gave Jill a look of honest sympathy and turned to the boy.
‘Bucket of slops and greens by the hearth,’ she announced. ‘Them chickens is hungry.’
When the boy ran into the house, she gestured at Jill to follow and led her down to the gate where he couldn’t overhear. Flies buzzed round them, and distant chickens cackled.
‘Now what’s all this, lass? Gwedda’s a nasty sort with her tongue. Hah! Mincing round with her nose in the air over you, and here she’s buried two husbands and so eager to get another you’d swear she was a bitch in heat, you would, and at her age!’
‘She was wrong, too. I’m not with child. I was trying to tell her, but all she did was natter on and on at me, and I couldn’t say much with my man right there.’ Jill glanced round as if expecting Rhodry to pop up and spy on her. ‘It’s about him, you see. Here I gave up my family and everything