In the dining hall, attendants bustled about clearing the tables. The chairs were all empty, the meal finished. Cressyda was relieved. She felt sure she had noticed courtiers watching her recently, their eyebrows raised and gazes questioning. They too wondered what would become of her. An overgrown pet that was about to outstay its usefulness.
‘Bring me plates and bowls on a tray,’ she instructed. ‘I’m taking food to the Queen.’
Perhaps she imagined it, but she thought she saw two attendants exchange glances.
‘And the rest of you get out!’ she added, her voice high and trembling. ‘You may return to finish clearing when I’m done.’ She turned to the guards. ‘Stand outside.’
Cressyda waited for everyone to leave, keeping her eyes averted so she did not have to see their reactions. When she heard the dining-hall doors creak shut, her shoulders slumped. At least she was alone now. She took a deep breath.
A platter of leftover pastries sat on the nearest table. Full, swollen fruit tarts, shiny with butter. Impulsively, she snatched one up. Glancing at the shut door, she stuffed it whole into her mouth. Sweet jam gushed on to her tongue, her cheeks bulged with stodgy clumps and greasy flakes fluttered down the front of her dress.
She chewed furiously.
Keeping her eyes on the door, Cressyda seized another and another, cramming them into her mouth, almost choking. She did not stop until the plate was empty.
Maylie
THE LINE OFtrees further up the mountainside seemed to shift and shiver.
Maylie paused, eyes squinting into the deepening blue dusk. She thought she could see something. A faint outline between thick tree trunks.
‘Mam?’
Maylie jumped.
‘Mam, dinner’s ready!’
It was Gredie, her eldest son, trudging towards her, swishing a stick through the bracken. Tawny sheep scattered in his wake, bucking and bleating.
‘You’ve been out here for ages,’ he added.
Maylie looked back at the forest, but whatever she thought she had seen in the trees had gone.
‘I’m coming,’ she replied, picking up her trug laden with cut grasses and herbs. ‘I didn’t realize it were so late.’
She had set out earlier that afternoon to roam the surroundinghillsides and restock her supplies. There were some plants that only grew wild and would not sprout in her garden, no matter how often she took cuttings and tended them diligently.
‘Pap said you were out this way.’
Maylie had not told Chrisanie when or where she was going, but her husband had a knack for sensing her whereabouts. ‘I were collecting posieous,’ she said, pointing at the tangled, thorny plant at their feet, its yellow buds interspersed with thin, green leaves. ‘’Tis a remedy for headaches. Some call it mountain breath.’
Gredie dutifully looked and nodded. It was not so long ago that he would have been fascinated, peering closely and asking questions. When her sons were small, Maylie used to strap them to her back as she strode about the mountainside, their snuffles and babbles in her ears. When they were bigger, they had toddled after her, singing songs together and collecting sticks, flowers and stones on their way. But one by one, as the winters passed, they had stopped, preferring to stay by the cottage or play with the village children in the main square. Last summer had been the final time Rozowie joined her on her forages. She missed their company and had been looking forward to carrying a new baby on her back again.
Maylie slipped her hand beneath her shawl and touched her stomach. When she woke this morning, for a few blissful, painful moments she had still thought that she carried a child in her belly.
‘Come on, Mam,’ said Gredie. ‘I’m starving.’
He dipped his shoulder and lightly bumped her side. Maylie had not told her children about the pregnancy, but at ten winters, Gredie could sense something was wrong. For the last day he had been unusually thoughtful and occasionally affectionate.
‘You finished up your chores?’ she asked as they walked side by side. ‘You’ve even scrubbed the floor?’
It was the most hated job in their household and it rotated around each family member. Everyone tended to forget when it was their turn.
‘Yep. And polished it.’
‘What a kind son the Great Creator has blessed me with.’
Gredie turned to her with hands clasped. ‘I were thinking that as a reward … we could go to Tormale?’
