Fortune and Misfortune
“W hat a lovely evening for a ride,” the girl said.
This was, Edwin Turval thought, going to be easier than he imagined.
He’d expected more argument from her after her unladylike conduct when he’d first met her in her father’s office.
Perhaps she had come to her senses and recognized that marriage to Vernas had desirable advantages that would create a strong alliance between Turval and G’ladheon.
It was certainly pleasing to see her looking a proper merchant girl all gowned up and wearing jewels.
The sub-chief medallion shone in the lamplight. Soon it would be Vernas who wore it.
She fell silent beside him as he urged the mules on. He supposed it was possible she believed what he said about Stace and was genuinely concerned. In Corsa they’d heard the news that Stace had, in fact, been ill, but not the particulars, hence the lie.
Their greatest danger was passing through the city gates. “Not a peep out of you,” he warned the girl as they approached the gates.
“Or?” she asked with the uplift of an eyebrow.
“Or you’ll regret it,” Vernas said from the back of the wagon.
Vernas, Edwin thought, was a good son and hard worker, but not particularly subtle. “Am I gonna have to pull down a side street so the lads can bind and gag you and hide you beneath the straw?” he asked. “Or will you stay quiet?”
“Why would you have to do that if we’re going to go see my aunt?” she asked.
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want the guards to slow us down, y’see.” He grimaced, knowing how bad his attempt at maintaining that pretense sounded.
“Makes sense,” she replied in a flat voice. No, she didn’t believe him at all.
“Kip will have a knife to your back just to make sure,” he said, “you keep quiet.”
“I would expect no less,” she replied.
To Edwin’s relief, she did not alert the guards she was being taken away against her will, nor did they seem to recognize her despite the fact she must often ride through the gates as a messenger.
Edwin thought they just might get away with this caper, but he did not breathe until they had finally departed the city.
For the girl’s part, she kept quiet and settled beneath her fancy cloak and seemed to enjoy surveying the night sky.
This was more the proper girl he’d expected when he walked into Stevic’s office that day.
And yet, he remained nervous. He’d brought Vernas and his boat crew along to subdue her in case she threw a fit.
Even though she showed no inclination for bad behavior, and she was unlikely to cause any harm while garbed in that gown, there was a rumor she was some sort of Greenie Weapon or swordmaster or something of the like.
He’d laughed it all off. Greenie Weapon?
Swordmaster? Not Stevic’s daughter. She carried no sword.
In her new life, the only blade she’d be wielding was a gutting knife like a proper fishwife.
Clare would teach her the skills she needed.
He, in the meantime, would speak on her and Vernas’ behalf in G’ladheon clan business and he’d have access to all that wealth, not to mention more power in his partnership with Sutton G’ladheon.
Oh, yes. Things were looking up for the Turvals.
Wouldn’t Stevic G’ladheon be surprised to discover his daughter had run off and married in his absence?
And there wouldn’t be a thing he could do about it.
Edwin snickered to himself. When the girl gave him a curious glance, he slapped the reins on the mules to urge them on.
Heh, he thought, no one would bother to come after her on Black Island.
The king would not concern himself over a lowly messenger.
And the bull about Eletians? He didn’t believe a bit of it.
“You know, I must admit I look forward to making my grandfather’s acquaintance one day,” the girl said.
Edwin glanced sharply at her. Did she guess their true destination? But he could read nothing of her thoughts. “He is a very great man. Your father and his sisters hurt him deeply when they left the island.”
“Perhaps he should have treated them better.”
“I will not hear ill spoken of him.”
She shrugged. “I suppose meeting him will have to wait. You are taking me to see my aunts, right? Not Black Island.”
“That’s right.”
Her laugh prickled right up his spine and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
“Oh, please,” she said, “you need not lie to me. You are defying the king’s will and intend to take me to the island.”
“The king hardly knows Black Island exists, and he won’t worry about a lowly messenger gone missing.”
“You might be surprised,” she said softly.
He braced himself for her to make a fuss, but she remained serene by his side, gazing into the night. She must realize she’d be overpowered if she rebelled.
The countryside was quiet but for an owl hooting and some animal rustling in the near woods, the clip clop of the mules’ hooves. He intended to have her far away from Sacor City and lawfully married to Vernas before the king’s folk even knew she was missing.
· · ·
Edwin drove on for a couple hours into the deepening night.
Soft light winked to life in the little shrine just up ahead on the side of the road.
It was tended by a single priest who’d been less than sober when Edwin had seen him in the morning.
Clare and one of his crewmen sat by a fire with a pot warming over it. They stood as he drove up.
“Vernas,” he said, “help your bride down from the wagon.”
“You got her?” Clare asked anxiously.
“Came of her own free will.”
Clare watched in disbelief as Vernas lifted the girl down. “You sure you got the right one?”
Edwin laughed. “Aye, it’s the right one. Now we gotta do the marrying.”
Clare looked uncertain. She had argued against retrieving the girl and feared they’d get in deep trouble for stealing one of the king’s messengers. But islanders didn’t pay much attention to king’s law. They had their own code.
Clare took the girl by the elbow. “Come, child, warm yourself by the fire. You’re all done up for a wedding and everything.”
“Where’s the priest?” Edwin demanded. “Kip, get the priest.”
As Kip shouldered his way into the woods where the priest’s hut lay, the girl gazed about herself and, in particular, at the simple stone alter piled with a jumble of offerings.
“Shrine to Goltera,” she observed. “Not exactly the wedding I was hoping for.”
Goltera, goddess of fertile swine, would ensure the marriage proved fruitful. Not with little piglets, of course, but with heirs worthy of the Turval name. “You’ll get a nice big feast and celebration when we reach the island,” Edwin said.
Vernas strutted about and laughed with the men who were making indecent remarks about how he’d be spending his wedding night. The girl seemed to take it all unflinchingly. Good. Maybe she had a sensible head on her shoulders after all.
Kip pushed the priest through the woods. The fellow staggered toward the fire leaning on a stout staff. The stench of stale ale preceded him in a wave.
“I understand we’ve a wedding to perform.” His words were slightly slurred and his gaze fuzzy. “You’ve a gift for Goltera?”
“Yes, yes,” Edwin said. “Vernas, the gift.”
His son ran to the wagon and returned with a jug of wine and a purse of coppers, and placed them on the altar.
The priest smiled blearily. “Where are the young lovers who are to be wed?”
Before Edwin could grab the girl, she asked, “May I see the marriage agreement first?”
Edwin frowned. “What for? Your grandfather signed it, that’s all you need to know.”
“What about the dowry? My father is not here to sort it out. Also, I’d like to know what I’m getting out of this arrangement.”
Vernas practically beat his chest as he announced, “You’re getting me, a big strong husband, that’s what.” The crew nodded and clapped him on his shoulders in agreement.
“Your secretary looked it over,” Edwin said, “and the king’s man, too. What could you possibly see that they didn’t?”
“That was back when the marriage seemed unlikely,” she replied. “Please, as a favor to your future daughter-in-law on her wedding night, may I see it?”
Edwin’s frown deepened. Educated women who could read were trouble and would lead to the downfall of the realm.
“Please?” she asked again. “Or, is there something you are hiding?”
Vernas was going to have to teach his new wife some lessons in obedience. None of this wheedling. Men who permitted such from their wives were weak.
“Oh, come, Edwin,” Clare said. “Let her see it so she feels comfortable with what she’s marrying into. There is no harm of it.”
“Keep your place,” he ordered her, but Clare gave him that look of hers that told him he was being unreasonable.
He relented and pulled the paper out of his pocket.
It had a soft texture from being carried around and frequently opened to be viewed.
He couldn’t read it himself, but he liked looking at it with all the officially inked words and seals, because it was his and made him feel important.
This marriage had been a long time coming and meant he could retire from the water and become a big man on the merchanting scene.
Reluctantly he passed the document to the girl.
“Thank you,” she said with a curtsy.
Her deference did much to mollify him, and he watched as she gingerly unfolded the paper and leaned toward the light of the fire to read it.
“Careful,” he warned her, ready to pounce if she got too near the flames.
She looked up from the paper. “I see you do expect quite a dowry.”
“Should be nothing to your father.”
“He might disagree. Oh!—and look, he will receive twenty-five percent take of the season’s catch. That’s quite generous.”
“Aye,” Edwin agreed, pleased she thought so. “Very.”
“Still, it could be better. I would like to think I am worth more than a quarter’s catch of fish. After all, I will bring a good deal of experience to the position.”