Daughter Of The Wind --Western Wind

Daughter Of The Wind

  Western Wind

  By

  Sandra Panicucci

  Copyright 2012 by Sandra Panicucci

  Chapter 1

  Pink yanked the door closed and leaned against the rough oak planks trying to collect her scattered wits. Garec's attention was uninvited and unwanted. His business took him west into Swadan and she’d never been so glad to see the dust rise up behind someone. The farther from Hallowisp Manor, the better.

  Mistress Henna had firmly turned down Garec's offer to buy Pink earning her eternal gratitude. Never before had a man looked at her in such a way. Both nights he was under Hallowisp's roof she trembled every time footsteps sounded in the third floor hallway.

  The stares that Huntmaster Kalor, and the young groom, Tibold, turned on her as she watched the departing wagons from the safety of the stables increased her anxiety. At sixteen she had never hada problem with men. Most thought her little more than a child, with her slight build. Why had the merchant, and now her friends, suddenly decided she was a fair target for the games the other slavesand the maids played?

  #

  Throughout the day, men she had known for the past four years grew bolder. Their stares from a distance turned into attempts to reach out and touch her. A twist here, a dodge there, kept her safely out of their reach. Much to Pink’s relief, Mistress Henna noted her travails and sent her upstairs to gather the linens for washing. No man would bother her at the wash tubs.

  Bending to scrub and then stretching to hang the sheets on the line she felt the distant stares. Ignoring them, she chatted with Carlena as together they washed the lot.

  Tibold approached, straying from his usual confines within the barn, carrying three sets of breeches and shirts. He seemed scarcely aware of them as Carlena took them from him and assured him they'd be dry by nightfall.

  The blonde woman laid a hand on Tibold's shoulder and turned him back to the barn. "Even if she was interested, you're too young for the thoughts you're wearing on your face." She placed a hand on his back and gently pushed him on his way. The twelve year old boy stumbled as he glanced back over his shoulder.

  Carlena asked, "What are you doing to these boys?"

  Pink lived up to her name as her cheeks burned. "I'm not doing anything. I'm no different today than I was yesterday."

  Carlena nodded agreement, but as yet another man tripped by the barn, jealousy flared in the older woman's face. They finished their work and Pink hurried upstairs.

  Two dresses hung in her tiny closet of a room. She looked at them closely and chose the frumpiest one. Frumpy was a polite description. Mistress Henna had permitted her to keep it when one of the lodger’s daughters had left it behind. It was hideous. Buttons ran all the way up to her jawline where the collar flipped back down in what amounted to a bib to snarl the eyes if they tried to find her bosom. She pinned her hair in a severe bun, and smudged dirt across her cheeks from the potted flowers on the window sill, then hurried back to her tasks.

  With the dining table set, Pink rushed to the clotheslines where a steady breeze dried the sheets and the groom's clothes. She unpinned them from the line and folded them neatly, piling them in the basket. Carlena helped fold sheets, then took Tibold's clothes to the barn, earning a grateful grimace from Pink.

  Pink carried the basket upstairs and began making up the beds. At the bottom of the basket she found the third set of the stable boy's clothes. Rather than expose herself to the scrutiny of the men, she took the clothes to her room and tucked them under her straw mattress.

  Normally she was expected to serve dinner, but after the first course, Mistress Henna sent her upstairs. She grabbed a couple slices of bread and some cheese and gladly retired.

  The scraping of chair legs and the manor's guests arriving in their rooms on the second floor announced the end of the meal. When the hallways quieted, she snuck down to the kitchen to help clear away the left-over food and dishes. The best of the scraps she stashed away, the rest went to compost in the midden heap.

  At the edge of the pile lay a perfectly serviceable pair of boots. They were a couple of sizes too big for her but she picked them up with a grin. They would work much better in the woods than the slippers of a house slave. If the next few days went like today, she would spend as much time as possible collecting herbs for poultices and tinctures.

  Pink slid the boots under her bed and piled the cheese and the small jar, which contained only two cucumbers floating in dill and vinegar, beside the boots. She changed to her shift and lay down to sleep, mentally taking stock of her small cluster of possessions. Somehow she would have to return Tibold's clothing, but she would wait to see if whatever affect she was having on men dissipated.

  She spent a goodly amount of time in the herbalist's shed. Since Mistress Gelora, her previous owner, and Temn's herbalist, passed away, the locals of the small mountain village had come to rely on Pink for their herbal remedies. She pondered the possibility of having inadvertently created an aphrodisiac.

  In her mind she thumbed through the requirements of the potions she knew to have that affect and she knew her shelves were missing key ingredients. Perhaps she had stumbled on a new recipe. What would she do if it didn't stop?

  She looked at the boots and the breeches sticking out from under the mattress and contemplated running away. Mistress Henna was the kindest of owners. Many paid servants had worse lives than she had. But what if this didn't end? Would she have to live her life in fear of being groped…or worse?

  If she ran she could travel east. Maybe start her own business. From overheard conversations of travelers, she gathered skilled herbalists were in demand everywhere. Nobody would recognize her in Ronan. If she wasn't a slave, men wouldn't dare to treat her in such a manner. As long as she kept her brand covered who would know?

  She bolted the door, blew out the candle, and lay back on the bed, but her mind refused to quiet.

  Moments later a gentle knock on the door brought her to her feet. She stood just inside the door and asked, "Who is it?"

  "Open the door, Pink." Henna's voice betrayed irritation, but it was undeniably the Mistress waiting on the other side. Pink reached out a hand and pulled the bolt back.

  The latch lifted and Henna bustled through carrying a candle inside and setting it down. "What have you done?"

  No preamble. That was Mistress Henna, direct to the heart of the matter. But Pink didn't have an answer.

  "Did you mix up a love potion for someone and spill it on yourself?"

  Pink shook her head. Her lip trembled and moisture threatened to tumble from her eyes. "No Mistress. I was just going over my stores in my head. I don't have the ingredients for those. I don't know what's causing this."

  Mistress Henna's gaze turned calculating. Pink was reminded that she owned a brothel in Temn, not just Hallowisp Manor, and the Mistress, kind though she was, was first and foremost a businesswoman. Surely Pink's skills as an herbalist were worth more than her body could earn in the brothel. Nerves on edge, Pink stretched a steadying hand to the bedpost and felt the tears course down her cheeks. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it will go away, Mistress." Pink desperately hoped her voice sounded more confident to the Mistress's ears than to her own.

  Henna pursed her lips and looked down her aquiline nose at Pink. "We'll give it a couple of days…see what happens. In the meantime, remain in the background. Go collect herbs. Aren't the large mushrooms Cook is so talented with, in season? Hopefully out of sight will be out of mind."

  Pink nodded her head. Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she tried to smile and look confident. The Mistress wasn't fooled, but she stood and left, leaving Pink'
s mind in even greater turmoil. Now the threat of the brothel was hanging over her head. She would leave first thing in the morning for the depths of the forest. She should be safe there. She knew the woods better than even the huntsman.

  Without further thought she reached down and wrapped a blanket around the food under her bed.

  Early the next morning she crept from her bed and down the stairs, pausing long enough to grab a basket and then darting down the path between the scraggly pines that surrounded the manor. She looked back at the immense stone building, her gaze captured by motion near the barn. Tibold looked out at her holding the reins to a large grey horse. A reed-like man with dark hair stood beside the boy, his head turned to follow Tibold's gaze. Pink turned and fled into the forest.

  She spent the morning collecting herbs and the afternoon laying them out to dry in the herbalist's shed. After carefully scanning for men, she darted into the kitchen, snatched some food, and ran back through the woods. When she was deep within her private world she leaned back against a tree and gulped down her purloined food. The curtain of night settled through the forest and Pink crept back to her bed. The next two days passed much the same. The second morning the man who had been with Tibold on the day of her exile was waiting by the kitchen door. Pink dodged back within the kitchen and begged two of the maids to accompany her.

  Together they walked to the forest and once her feet were on the path she thanked them and dashed away, basket swinging from her right hand. That evening, Mistress Henna returned to Pink's room. "Harner has been asking about you."

  "Harner?"

  "He's been here for two days now. Apparently he is friends with Mister Garec."

  Pink sat down on the bed. "The merchant?"

  "It seems Garec is determined to possess you and sent his friend back to keep watch over what he covets."

  Pink couldn't stop her hand from shaking as she smoothed back her copper tresses. "He was waiting for me outside the kitchen today. I got a couple of the girls to walk with me into the wood."

  "You still don't know what the cause of this infatuation is?"

  "No ma'am. I've bathed. I scrubbed with lye in the river yesterday still the huntmaster scented me as though he were one of his own hounds when I returned to the manor. He looked ready to accost me and he must be sixty years old. If Carlena had not been out doing laundry, there's no telling what may have happened."

  Henna folded her hands behind her back and paced the length of the room, red hair floated about her shoulders as she looked at the ceiling in silent contemplation of the problem before her. "A lot of work is being slacked off these past three days. It's all I can do to get a meal out of Cook. The men turn often to watch the wood, waiting for your return."

  "I'm sorry, Mistress."

  "I've eyes in my head. I can see it's not of your doing. It's just…" Mistress Henna quieted as heavy footsteps trod down the hall pausing in front of Pink's door. The latch was lifted but Henna had shot the bolt home when she entered.

  The latch fell and the footsteps retreated. Pink huddled against the wall behind the bed, Henna turned with a frown. "Tomorrow I will have Carlena bring food and a flask of water to the forest. Leave here before first light and do not return for the next three days. If you need anything leave a rock in the basket. I'll send Carlena to recover it every evening from the clearing near the stand of birch trees."

  Pink hugged herself tightly. Fear held her tongue, stopping her from answering with anything more than a wide-eyed nod of her head.

  "In three days I'll expect you to return. Young Tibold seems to be one of your admirers--we'll use him to see if it's safe for you to stay." Henna lifted a hand to the door and said, "Bolt this behind me."

  Her words were unnecessary as Pink was already rising to do just that.

  Before daylight, Pink was out the door. Quiet footsteps hurried down the stair but she didn't pause to look back and was grateful when one of the kitchen maids called out to her follower, "Master Harner, you're up early. Will you be leaving today then?"

  Harner's voice was gruff as he paused to answer. Pink took advantage of his delay and pelted down one of the animal tracks that most people overlooked in the woods. The first half of the day was quiet. She checked periodically to see if Carlena had left her food and when finally the basket appeared she was ever so grateful. The basket contained rinds of cheese, day old bread, several hard-boiled eggs and some of the jerky that Pink had never had to eat before, but she had helped in its drying and seasoning for travelers.

  She ate sparingly and when full, stuffed the remaining food in a fold of her dress and returned the basket to where she had picked it up. That evening she checked the birch stand and found the basket had been returned with the blanket from her bed and more food. This fare was going to get old. She found a quiet place, piled leaves deep and wrapped in her blanket to stay warm. The autumn air was starting to chill. Running away crossed her mind again. If she was going to go, she would need to do it soon or she wouldn't get out of the mountains before snowfall.

  She decided against that course of action. Harner would move on. Whatever was happening to her would end and she would reclaim her life.

  The next day, footprints which did not belong to Carlena, or any woman for that matter circled the basket of food. Pink snatched up the basket and fled back into the darkness of the denser woods.

  She hid in a thicket, listening for some time before daring to delve into the food. When she finished, she left the basket where it was. There would be plenty of time to return it after she was sure Harner did not lie in wait. She turned her efforts toward repaying Mistress Henna's kindness and filled the basket with the mushrooms Henna liked. It would not be much longer before they too were gone for the winter.

  She returned the basket to the place she had picked it up and was disturbed to see even more footprints. As she placed the basket down, she heard him.

  Harner blundered noisily along the trail. Pink turned to run but the arrogant noble stretched his legs into a lope and pursued her deeper into the forest. His glazed eyes and erratic movements frightened her more than his quiet stalking had. As he closed the distance between them, grasping claw-like fingers snagged the shoulder of her dress, tearing it down the front. The impetus of his motion threw her to the ground and for one long, impossible moment, fear froze her in place.

  Harner’s weight, crushing her to the ground shattered the paralysis gripping her limbs. Shock held her mind as she writhed underneath him. Frightened screams and panicked struggling brought nothing but more violence--until her knee connected with his groin. He doubled up in pain and Pink twisted her diminutive body out from under him. His face a mask of agony and insanity, Harner reached for her throat.

  Pink twisted her head around and bit his hand. The coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth. The hand was snatched away--only to return folded into a fist. Her head rocked backwards from the blow to her jaw. Scuttling away, her questing fingers came in contact with a fallen branch and she swung it with every ounce of terror driven strength she had.

  A dull thud, followed by a sharp crack, left her holding half a bloodied stick. He dropped to the ground like a sack of flour thrown from Cook’s supply wagon. The skin on the side of his head, just above his ear was torn; the skull indented. The branch had been more than adequate for her needs.

  Wary of deceit in spite of the condition of his head, she prodded Harner with the bloody end of the wood she held. His head lolled to the side, eyes open.

  As the herbalist for the valley of Temn, she had seen death before. Sometimes she couldn't prevent it, but never before had she caused it. If anybody found the body, there would be no question of her fate.

  With shaking hands, Pink covered the evidence of her crime with sticks and fallen leaves. As long as she was working she wasn't thinking. When the body was covered, her trembling became uncontrollable. Her stomach clenched. She leaned over and vomited then stood back up and wiped her mouth with
the bloody shreds of her clothing. As she regained control of her body she knotted the ripped dress, snatched up the basket of mushrooms, and ran back to the manor.

  A chambermaid emerging from a guest's suite, was the only person to see Pink sneak into her room.

  Pink changed into Tibold's clothes, pulled the boots on her feet, and covered the whole ensemble with her other dress. She cleaned the blood from her face, snatched up a blanket with her cheese and cucumbers bundled in it, then carried the basket downstairs. Leaving most of the mushrooms in the kitchen, Pink tucked herself away in the wine cellar.

  Hiding amidst bottles of Mountainberry Wine, Pink quivered as each new pair of feet entered the manor overhead. She strained to hear muted conversations, afraid that Harner’s body had been discovered and her chance at escape blocked.

  Dusk was heralded by the silence which reigned on the floor overhead. She crept up the stairs, and clasping her hands together to stop them from trembling, Pink walked out the front door with an air of calm she did not feel.

  Flitting from shadow to shadow she fled down the winding path away from the great stone manor of Hallowisp farm. When she dared to stop and look back, the forest hid even the flickering glare of lamps at the front door.

  Her heart raced. Sweat beaded on her forehead in spite of the chill night air. The cut on the left side of her face burned. Purpling bruises ached when she bent to reclaim the blanket and food she'd hidden earlier. She placed the eggs in the jar with the cucumbers to preserve them longer.

  Harner's hat lay inches from her stash. Pink stepped out of her house slave's dress and stuffed it inside the bundle then pulled the wide-brimmed hat down over her unruly curls, completing her transformation into a young boy.

  She made her way back to the road. A loud thump announced the stable door being thrown open. Muffled voices carried on the night air brought the threat of discovery. Pink bolted down the path.

  Out of sight was nowhere near far enough away.

  If she was caught after tonight, one of three things would happen. The best Pink could hope for was being sent to work the fields--for having run away, she would lose her position in the house. She could survive that. If they discovered Harner‘s remains, she would be executed. The grimmest possibility was that she would be sent to work in Mistress Henna's brothel. She shuddered, remembering the lewd stares and gestures she had dealt with in the past week. The degradation of the brothel was not something she was strong enough to live through.

  Chapter 2