Chapter Thirteen
Inside a rather large merchant shop on the Street of the Merchants, known as Threeneedle Street, Lyssa was watching an old merchant and his wife string out rolls and rolls of fabric to show her the quality, color, and durability of it.
Since Lyssa needed to inspect the product and it took two of them to bring out the rolls of material, Garret ended up being the dummy.
Truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure how he ended up permitting fabric to be draped on his big body, but the expression on Lyssa’s face didn’t make it seem so bad.
She was trying so hard not to laugh as the old man with the long white beard and his equally old wife with a visibly white mustache hung blue silk fabric over one shoulder and then green brocade fabric over the other.
Lyssa didn’t want the blue but she loved the green, so the green was set aside.
Just when Garret thought he had a reprieve, the merchants brought out more fabric and he found himself swathed in mustard yellow.
“What do you think, my lady?” the merchant asked. “Beautiful, is it not?”
The merchant and his wife were Jewish, as were most of the merchants on the street, and their accents were very heavy.
“Think” sounded like “deenk”, so sometimes he had to ask the question twice before Lyssa understood him.
But she and Garret had been here almost an hour, the very first merchant stall they stopped at after leaving The Wix, so now she was becoming more adept at understanding the old couple.
They’d stopped repeating themselves for the most part, and Lyssa thought they were rather sweet.
And they had a horde of stock in their stall, filled with more treasures than the royal treasury.
Or, at least, it seemed that way.
“I-It is very beautiful,” Lyssa said. “I-I should like to have it.”
Triumphant, the old man pulled the fabric away from Garret while his wife pulled forth something else. Garret could see that they would continue to use him for a dummy as long as he stood there so, at that point, he thought to defend himself somewhat.
“Do you truly need to have me show off these goods before you’ll buy them?” he asked, half-pleading, half-demanding.
But Lyssa laughed softly at his misery. “T-Those fabrics would not look half as beautiful if you were not showing them to me,” she said. “Y-Yellow is truly your color. Y-You should have a tunic of that color.”
He shook his head quickly. “Nay, lady, I shall leave the yellow to the women.”
“B-But why? I-It is such a lovely color.”
He smiled thinly. “On you, but not on me.”
Lyssa could see that he was he was embarrassed and trying very hard to act like he wasn’t. “I-It is quite fashionable for men and women to wear clothing of matching color,” she said. “I-It is most impressive to see at feasts and gatherings.”
He was shaking his head even as she said it. “Not me.”
“N-Not even to show all men that I belong to you if we wear a matching color?”
He looked at her then, seeing the glimmer of mirth in her eye.
But there was also hope; hope that he was willing to play his part in this relationship that was forming between them.
His uncertainty in just how to comply with the rules of a relationship had him rethinking his stance on matching colors.
If that was what men and women did together, then perhaps he shouldn’t be so stubborn.
Therefore, he pursed his lips, irritably, before breaking down into a grin.
“If I thought I could get away with writing my name across your forehead, I would do so in order to tell all men to whom you belong,” he said softly, warmly. “But wearing clothing that match….”
“A-All of the proper couples do that these days.”
“She is right, my lord,” the old woman merchant agreed emphatically.
She had a big stretch of a beautiful wine-colored silk in her hands.
“Many young lords and ladies have matching clothing made. Would you not do it for your lady? If you do not, some man may think she does not have anyone. That would be terrible!”
The old woman had a way of making it sound like Garret was a rotten lover for not wanting to match his lady.
He could see Lyssa giggling out of the corner of his eye.
In truth, his resistance was gone because he could see that it meant something to her.
He meant something to her. Understanding that it was important, he surrendered.
It made his heart joyful to see her happy.
“Very well,” he sighed heavily. “If it means so much to you, then I will wear a tunic to match you.”
Lyssa squealed with delight, grabbing the old woman by the arm. “T-The dark blue silk that you showed me,” she said quickly. “Y-You know the one? I-I will take that. M-Make sure there is enough for a cote for me and a tunic for him.”
The old woman began moving quickly, snatching up a lovely blue silk from a pile draped on a nearby table. “It will be beautiful on you both,” she said happily. “Now, come and see my ribbons!”
Flashing Garret a grin, Lyssa rushed off after the old woman, who evidently had a treasure trove of ribbons, threads, and other items that could be sewn onto a cote for embellishment.
Even though the old man was trying to show Lyssa more fabric, she was swept up in gold thread and semi-precious stones that would adorn her garments, and Garret watched from afar. He couldn’t stop watching her.
He didn’t want to.
It was surreal, this moment in time. He’d never experienced anything like it – spending time with a woman who he was more attracted to by the second.
His life had always been one of such rigorous training and duty and, most of all, surrounded by men.
He was proud of his relationships with his fellow knights.
But now, he was spending time with a woman and even at his advanced years, he felt like a giddy squire, as if he were just coming to learn about women for the first time.
In truth, he was. He was feeling terribly awkward but he was more than willing to learn what he needed to know about making a woman happy, and if that meant she had to make a tunic for him that matched her dress, then so be it.
He would feel stupid, but she would be happy, and that was all that mattered to him.
“G-Garret,” Lyssa called out to him, breaking him from his train of thought. She was holding up a beautiful silver belt that had tassels on it. “W-What do you think?”
He shrugged. “If you like it, I like it.”
She beamed at him and handed the belt over to the old woman, who was accumulating quite a pile from the young lady’s shopping. The old woman tugged her over to another part of the shop.
“Come, meyn zis,” she said in her heavy accent. “See what more I have for you!”
Garret’s eyes tracked Lyssa as she scurried after the old woman, happily leafing through all the merchant had to show her.
Scarves joined the pile, and more fabric, and even hose.
Ribbons joined the hose. Garret knew he was about to spend a good deal of money but he truthfully didn’t care; he’d never had so much fun spending it.
It was a small price to pay for such happiness.
It was another hour before they finally left the merchant’s shop, with Garret carrying a big trunk over one broad shoulder.
The trunk wasn’t full because he was certain they weren’t finished shopping, and he was right.
Passing by the tanner as the street bustled around them, they noted that the man had several pairs of doe-skin slippers displayed, shoes he could size to the lady who wished to purchase them, and he sized two pairs for Lyssa.
They were durable and well-made, and they joined the rest of the booty in the trunk.
The trunk then went back over Garret’s shoulder as they continued down the dusty road on the hunt for more treasures.
“W-Would you like for me to help you carry the trunk?” Lyssa asked as they walked beneath the shade of a big yew tree, the only tree on the entire street. “I-It must be getting quite heavy by now.”
He looked at her, grinning. “Do you think you can carry it?”
She laughed softly. “I-I did not mean by myself,” she said. “B-But I can take one end of it and you can take the other. I-It would not be so much of a burden for you.”
He shook his head, his gaze upon her was soft. “It is no burden,” he said quietly. “It is pure joy. I have waited many years to carry my lady’s trunk.”
Lyssa gazed up at him, her cheeks flushing a gentle pink. “H-Has there ever been another lady for you?” she asked. Then, she quickly lowered her head. “T-That was a foolish question. P-Please forgive me.”
Reaching out his free hand, Garret took her fingers in his.
It was bold and he knew it, to do such a thing in public but, at the moment, he didn’t much care.
His bachelor’s heart was warming to this woman by leaps and bounds – her smile, her silly giggle – everything about her had him feeling like he’d never felt before.
In this moment, in this space of time, he felt freer than he’d ever felt in his life, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
From a man who had been on the fringe of life and death his entire professional career, he never knew such untroubled moments existed.
“You are free to ask me whatever you wish,” he told her, his fingers fondling hers. “Nay, there has never been another lady, at least not the way you mean. In my youth, there was one young woman that I was fond of but her parents were not fond of me.”
Lyssa was very interested. “H-How is that possible? S-Surely any family would be proud to have you for their daughter.”
He shook his head. “Not this family,” he said. “It seems that I did not have the breeding and political connections that they wanted, so they married her to a man twice her age who did. The last I heard, she was still married and had twelve children.”
Lyssa’s eyes widened. “T-Twelve children?” she gasped. “G-God’s Bones, I cannot imagine having twelve children.”