Chapter Four
Two years later...
Jo was racing against a deadline. For days and days now, she had sat at her loom from dawn until dusk, weaving an intricately designed fabric, inlaid with small beads, that was destined to be made into the surcoat worn by Lady Ashton at her eldest son’s wedding.
Jeremiah, a tailor favored by the nobles in the north west of England, had commissioned Jo to create the piece because of his appreciation for, in his words, her ‘impeccable standards’ and ‘care for detail’.
Jo had accepted the commission despite the rushed deadline, owing to the generous size of Jeremiah’s promised payment.
However, to ensure she finished on time, she’d had to turn down other offers for work, which meant that she was entirely reliant on this one piece to meet all her upcoming financial obligations, and today was the due date.
A quiet whine forced Jo to look up from her loom at her dog Ruby, stretched out on the floor in front of the door, giving Jo a pointed look.
“I know you’re hungry. But it is still early, and I have so much to do—”
Jo’s own stomach growled, interrupting her. She cast Ruby a guilty glance. “All right, we’ll go to market, but remember what I told you last night, I only have coin enough for bread.”
Ruby jumped to her feet, wagging her tail, and padded over to where Jo sat.
Jo wove her fingers through Ruby’s thick fur. “You look excited, girl, but when I give you a crusty bun, instead of the meat pie I know you think you’re getting right now, you won’t be so happy with me. But worry not. After Jeremiah pays me this eventide, we’ll be knee deep in meat pies!”
Jo stood and stretched her arms high, working the kink out of her back. Then she seized her cloak and fastened Ruby’s leash. “Remember,” she whispered as they stepped outside. “We must be vigilant.”
Pulling the hood of her cloak over her head, despite the warmth of the day, she plowed ahead, leaving Tivoli Street behind, setting out toward Durham’s market square with her trusted companion at her side.
Thinking of the several inches of length still left to weave, her chest tightened, and for a moment, she regretted having abandoned her loom.
But then she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
Without doubt, she knew her goal would be met with perseverance... and a little nourishment.
Durham’s crowded market square was full of bustling activity, stalls laden with goods, vendors crying out to passersby, eager to sell their wares.
Throngs of shoppers, performers, and beggars wove through the narrow-cobbled streets, some impatiently pushing through the crowds as they hurried to reach their destinations, but Jo was not one of those people.
She never had to push her way through any crowd, not since she and Ruby had found each other.
A year ago, Jo had been at market, searching the stalls of yarn for the perfect shade of blue to complete her mother’s latest commission...
After purchasing several skeins, Jo turned to hasten back to their workshop when she heard the most mournful cry coming from behind the neighboring stall, where costly skeins of silk thread were for sale. Jo glanced at the merchant who seemed oblivious to the pained cries.
“Here,” he said, thrusting a skein of yellow silk at a young woman. “Feel how soft. You will find no softer silk in all of Durham, and the color will make your flaxen tresses shine.”
The young woman blushed, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “It is not for me, but for my lady.”
“If your lady is half as beautiful as you, then...”
Taking advantage of the merchant’s simpering preoccupation with his lovely young customer, Jo darted through the billowing sheets of silk lining the sides of the merchant’s stall and circled around back, following the soft whimpers.
Gasping, her hand flew to cover her mouth.
Tied to the side handle of a large chest was an animal curled on the ground with straggly tufts of fur circling bald patches dotted with angry sores down the boney ridges of its back.
At first glance, she couldn’t discern what type of animal had been so cruelly abused, but then she drew closer and softly, she clicked her tongue.
Its head lifted, and sorrowful yellow eyes locked with hers.
The neglected creature was a dog, and in its gaze, Jo felt its plea.
Save me.
She didn’t hesitate. Scurrying around the side of the stall, she made sure the merchant was still occupied.
The young maid was now examining a purple skein of thread, her cheeks pink while the merchant peppered her with compliments.
Quickly, Jo circled around to the back and untied the dog.
For a moment, it just looked at her lamely, it’s yellow gaze holding naught but despair.
“Come on,” Jo whispered.
With a heart-breaking whine, the suffering beast dropped its head on its front paws, releasing a puff of air. Jo scanned the animal, her gaze checking for any visible injuries, bone protruding through flesh or places of blood letting.
“Can ye walk, girl?”
Chewing her bottom lip, Jo reflected on how best to proceed while the animal continued to look at her with pleading, woeful eyes but still did not budge.
“Be sure to tell your mistress who sold you such fine silk,” she heard the merchant say.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Jo looked the dog hard in the eye. “We have to go now. Come on.” Jo backed away, patting her hands on her thighs. “You can do this. Come on. If you want freedom, you must have courage.”
Slowly, the dog climbed to her feet and limped toward Jo, barely setting weight on one of her hind legs.
“Good dog!” She continued to back up, calling softly, urging the wounded creature to keep going. Soon, they were both beyond the confines of the merchant’s stall and had crossed the aisle into the next row of vendors.
“Let’s have a look at you then,” Jo murmured, examining the dog under the bright sunshine.
“My, but you’re a large one, aren’t you and a girl.
” Her back nearly came up to Jo’s waist. “You’re almost as tall as me and, as you may have noticed, I’m not a small woman.
” Squatting down, she gently petted the dog’s head. “You poor dear.”
The idea of forcing the suffering animal to walk any farther on her painfully thin and unstable legs broke Jo’s heart. “I hate to push you, girl, but you aren’t safe here.”
Hobbling slowly beside her, the dog managed to follow Jo through the narrow market pathways to the side of the busy cobbled road abutting the square.
“You did it, girl,” Jo praised her; however, the triumph of the moment was short lived.
Her mother’s workshop wasn’t far for those in possession of vitality, but for her new-found companion, Jo may as well have asked her to walk to London.
“Don’t worry,” Jo reassured her. “I will think of another way.”
Just then a wagon came into view, driven by a young man with a friendly countenance. He had wheat-colored hair, a freshly scrubbed face, and he smiled, dipping his head in greeting to those he passed.
Jo called out to him as he drew near. “Boy!”
“Whoa,” the young man said, his smile faltering as he pulled tight on the reins, bringing his work horse to a halt next to her. “Who are you calling boy? I’m nearly fifteen.”
Jo bit her cheek to keep from smiling at the young man now scowling at her. “Thank you for stopping,” she said as she hurried to peer over the side of the wagon. There were trays of cakes and hand pies and baskets piled high with crusty loaves.
“Are you a baker?”
“My father is the baker. I’m his assistant,” he replied, puffing out his chest and sitting straighter in his seat.
She smiled up at him warmly. “I dare say you’ve room for a couple of passengers. Will you not take pity on this poor beast and drive us to Tivoli Street? I dare not make her walk the whole way.”
The boy slowly scanned her from head to toe.
Despite him being nearly three years her junior, he looked disapprovingly at her threadbare tunic.
She held her chin high, refusing his assessment.
Then his gaze settled on her weary and neglected companion.
“She’d never make it,” the boy observed, his scowl deepening.
“If you cannot care for your dog properly, then you shouldn’t keep her. ”
Jo’s eyes flashed wide at the boy’s assumption. “She’s not mine, or at least she wasn’t until a few moments ago. I’ve just stolen her away from her undeserving owner.” Her face softened, remembering she was asking for help. “Please,” she beseeched him. “Help me save her.”
The boy jumped down and bowed at the waist. “My name is Joseph.”
She smiled. “What a coincidence. My name is Jo.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Allow me to guess...Jo is short for...Josephina?”
She shook her head.
“Then it must be Johanna?”
“I am simply Jo—nothing more, nothing less.”
He cocked his brow at her. “It must be short for something. I’ve never heard of a girl called Jo before.”
She lifted her shoulders, giving him a mischievous grin. “Are you going to powder me with questions like I’m one of your cakes, or are you going to help me save this dog?”
“Dog?” he blurted before turning his gaze to the large animal standing at her side. “She is no mere dog.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s part wolf. You can tell by the markings around her eyes and the length of her snout, but her size exceeds even that of a wolf.
I think she must also have some Mastiff in her.
” Joseph jumped down. “It will take us both to get her into the wagon.” He stepped toward them, but suddenly the dog growled, baring her teeth at him. ”
Eyes wide, Joseph scurried back.
Jo frowned and crouched down, petting the animal’s bristled head. “Hush, now,” she crooned. “He’s a friend and means to help us.” She looked up at the young man. “Try again.”
Flashing Jo a dubious look, Joseph stepped toward the dog, but again she snarled, only this time, she snapped her jaws at his outstretched fingers.