Fruit of the Golden Vine (18 page)

“Oh, yes.” Orfeo winked. “But he doesn’t have a title. No noble blood in those veins—just wine. That’s what you’ve got going for you, Rafael, and I daresay you’ll take the prize. But what then, eh? Back to the manor to live a respectable life? You strike me as a rather more liberated sort.”

“I’ll admit I’ve only recently considered married life.” Rafael gave a crooked grin. “But everyone must settle eventually.”

“I agree, I agree. Look at me. A single man, and forty is on my horizon. If I’m to have a son, I’d better get me a wife soon.” Orfeo winked at Silvana. “Perhaps I could court you, my noble lady.”

Silvana glared. “You’d have more luck courting your horse.”

“Yes, you’re an uncommon woman. A sword at your belt, I see. Are you any good with it? I fancy myself quite a duelist.” Orfeo pointed to a series of bracketed swords on the wall above their heads. “See up there? Just part of my collection.”

“Collecting swords doesn’t a duelist make, Master Orfeo.”

Orfeo flashed his uneven teeth. “Trust me, my lady, I can wield them as well as display them. I’m undefeated. Well, if we exclude my learning period. May I look at your weapon?”

Silvana stood and took her sword from its scabbard. It hissed as it drew through the leather. She placed it on the table before Orfeo, who leaned forward, his face bright as he inspected the weapon. “A beautiful small sword. You favor them over the old design?”

“Who wouldn’t? They’re lighter.”

“Yes, but shorter.” He tapped the sword’s swept guard. “And the hilt is smaller too.”

“It’s swiftness and accuracy that matters in a duel. Only a man would place any value on length and size.”

Rafael snorted laughter, and Orfeo pulled a mournful face. “I fear you would cut me down with your tongue before you’ve even drawn,” he said. “Rafael, how’s your swordplay?”

“Poor,” said Rafael. He tasted his cider and grimaced. Not sweet enough for him, most likely. “Silvie’s far quicker than me, and her nerves—God, she’s unshakeable. I’ve never outfenced her, not even when we were children playing with sticks.”

“Well, well.” Orfeo gave Silvana a repellant look of appreciation. “You’re a striking character. Good looks, fine dress, sharp wit, skilled blade. No wonder you’re unmarried. There’s not a man alive who’d know how to handle you.”

Silvana raised an eyebrow. “There’s not a man alive I’d want to handle me.” She resheathed her sword. “Is it really so astonishing to you that a woman can defend herself?”

“Well, if she works to imitate a man long enough, I suppose she might become capable.”

“Imitate a man? That’s what you believe I’m doing?”

Orfeo shrugged. “I mean no offence. I only thought it apparent. Your hair, your male manner of dress, your knowledge of swordplay…”

Silvana seethed, but she kept her voice calm. “My hair is cut short for practical reasons. It’s still grown from a woman’s scalp. I don’t burden myself with dresses, but my clothes are still tailored for a woman, and they conceal a woman’s body. As for swordplay, our violent world makes no exception based on sex. A woman has as much duty to defend herself and her loved ones. No, I don’t imitate men. I embody a form of womanhood that cowards are afraid of.”

“Please.” Rafael extended his hands. “Orfeo, you’re going to get my sister unhappy with this line of talk, and trust me when I say you don’t want to do that.”

“Indeed I don’t.” Orfeo swept the mugs aside and stood. “It would be a curious exercise to duel with you someday, Mistress. I’d have to overcome my compunction about striking a woman, of course.”

Silvana placed a hand on her hip. “I wouldn’t lose sleep over that. There’s no chance of you so much as scratching me.”

“Oh, you are bold. Well, let’s go see how the others are doing. I’m sure you’re anxious for a bracing ride.”

They followed Orfeo out the front door and down a narrow path. It led to a large stable overlooking a stretch of rolling meadow fringed by woodland. As they approached the stable, which slouched as if one wall had been constructed lower than the other, the sound of barking and childish laughter greeted them. Sebastian was standing by the stable door, watching Felise as she wrestled in the grass with a fat white puppy. The creature barked and licked her face, and she pinned it to the ground and laughed as it wriggled. After several seconds of struggle, Felise set the puppy free and it took off across the grass. She flew in pursuit, calling and giggling.

“How old is she again?” said Orfeo as they neared the stable entrance. “Ten?”

“Thirteen, barely,” said Sebastian. “But she behaves younger and has an odd manner of speech. Delfina often complains that Irena is her only normal daughter.” He watched Felise and the puppy as they crawled through a tangle of bushes. “I’ve no complaints. Lise and Ada both liven things up to no end with their antics.”

“But antics have their limits, eh?” Orfeo peered into the stable. “How are you back there, girls? Feeding the horses, I see.”

The stable was a narrow, straw-strewn space lit by beams of sunlight cast through slatted walls. At the stable’s far end, Adelina and Irena were grooming and feeding a pair of stalled horses, one coal black and the other piebald. Several gloomy equine heads twisted and snuffled over the neighboring stall doors.

“I’m taking the black one.” Irena stroked the horse’s twitching nose. “Ada conceded.”

Adelina walked across the stable, kicking straw, and came to a stop in front of Silvana. “Are you ready to go riding?”

“Very much so,” said Silvana. “With Master Orfeo’s permission.”

“Of course, of course.” Orfeo indicated two brown horses stabled side by side. “You can take these. They’re not as lovely as the horses the girls are so enamored with, but they’re still finer steeds than you’ll find anywhere else.” He removed a large saddle from the wall. “I suppose you can ride a horse as well as any man too.”

“It may surprise you to learn that men and women are formed rather alike. Two arms, two legs. Everything necessary for riding.”

Adelina laughed. “While you two quarrel, I’m going to play with Felise.” She passed by Silvana, and their fingers brushed for a deliberate moment. Silvana turned and continued to watch Adelina as she strolled into the sunlight. There was plenty to admire about the suggestive fit of Adelina’s short pants. As much as Silvana enjoyed unbuttoning dresses, nothing quite ignited the blood like the sight of a woman in trousers—it bespoke boldness, a revelation of curved hips and turned calves. Far from making a woman appear masculine, trousers revealed her physical femininity, unlike those artifices constructed from lace and whalebone to conceal her figure from view. And men had the gall to deem this effect feminine.

“You appear distant in thought,” said Orfeo, and Silvana returned herself to the moment. “I’d wager you’re fond of the maiden Adelina. You’re quite alike, save that your temper is like forged steel, and hers is like a reckless flame.”

“And you’ve witnessed her temper often, have you?”

“I’ve been around the family ten years, as I’ve said,” Orfeo leered. “I’ve seen the daughters grow up, their good times and bad. Adelina was ever the demon. How her mother despaired of her! At the age of that little one out there acting a fool with the puppy, she was already strutting about making demands and asking questions.” He glanced at Silvana’s hand, and she curled her fingers, hiding the ring. “Not like Irena. A dainty little creature.”

“Did you just call me a little creature?” said Irena. “Really, Orfeo. To talk about others when they’re in earshot.”

“I meant as a child, Irena. Now you’re a dainty woman. Surely you’ve no complaints about that appellation.” Orfeo turned the saddle in his hands. “Well, no more time for chatter. I’ll get the horses fixed up for you. I suppose you’ll be riding sidesaddle, Irena, in that big dress of yours.”

“I’m hardly going to wear trousers and ride like a man. I leave that sort of thing to Adelina.”

“It’s not ‘riding like a man,’ Ira,” said Silvana, softening her tone for Irena’s sake. “Men want you to use such phrases so that you even come to believe them, but in truth, a woman can ride however she pleases.”

Orfeo’s big shoulders shook with his laughter. “Ah, you’re corrupting Delfina’s treasure! Beautiful!” His grin almost touched both his ears. “I suppose you’d corrupt Adelina, too, if nature hadn’t already beaten you to it. You’ll have the pair of them cropping their hair and swinging swords in no time.”

“Really, Orfeo.” Irena sniffed. “You’re a fanciful man at the best of times, but today you outdo yourself.”

“I’m a fanciful man indeed.” A look of cunning stole across Orfeo’s face, gleaming in his eyes and curling his lips. “But I’d be surprised if something of our lady Silvana doesn’t rub off on at least one of you.” He snickered, and Silvana drew a deep breath to keep from drawing her sword. If that had been innuendo, then perhaps he’d noticed how she’d looked at Adelina. If that were so, she needed to take more care. As much as she disliked Orfeo, it would be better not to have to kill him and throw his body in a river.

“Your banter has grown tiresome beyond measure,” said Silvana, and she took Irena’s arm. “Come, Ira. Let’s watch your sisters making clowns of themselves while we await the saddling of the horses.”

They left the stable behind them, exchanging its heavy aroma for the crisp air of the morning. In their absence, Adelina had joined in the tumbling revelry. She had allowed the puppy to defeat her, lying in the long grass in a pose of surrender while the beast crawled over her and licked her bare skin. Just as it seemed on the brink of absolute victory, its little nose nearing Adelina’s face, Felise flanked it from an unforeseen angle. It barked as she lifted it into the air and whirled it above her head.

“If only Mother were here to see them frolicking,” said Irena, shaking with giggles. “She’d fall on her knees and pray for their poor souls.”

“If playing with a puppy is cause for damnation, our creator shouldn’t have endowed them with such irresistible qualities.”

Irena smiled and put her head on Silvana’s shoulder. “I’ve always wanted a big sister,” she said in a murmur that seemed intended only for herself. Silvana’s breath slowed, and an unfamiliar emotion pressed against her heart.

The horses meandered down the meadow trail, flicking their ears at the droning insects that rose from the flowers. With every breath, Adelina inhaled the heady fragrance of the colorful flowers scattered among the grass and stones, and the late morning sun made her limbs languid with warmth.

Silvana rode alongside, her hat tilted against the sun and her body moving to the rhythm of her mount. Irena and Rafael took the lead, Irena being the slowest rider, and they rode close enough to chatter. But Adelina had no need to talk to Silvana. Their frequent sidelong glances were communication enough; in fact, it seemed as if talking would break the spell of their mutual admiration.

As the insects played their whirring tune, the floral aroma made Adelina’s head heavy and the heat loosened her muscles, the morning around her took on the aspect of some romantic dream. Riding with such graceful poise, her sword at her side and the gold band of her hat glittering in the sunlight, Silvana only lacked her cape to complete the image of a valiant female swashbuckler. Why did none of Father’s novels of adventure give the heroic role to a woman? One who serenaded other women, a beautiful, articulate adventuress…

Adelina steadied herself. It wouldn’t do to swoon out of her saddle. Instead, she turned her attention to the countryside. The land was mostly flat, with slight dips and rises, and the sky, a stretch of dizzying, featureless azure, met on the horizon with the dark line of woods and the uneven shapes of hills. With no clouds to conceal the sun, it was free to bounce its glare from the white rocks that rested amid the field, and Adelina was grateful for the straw hat that kept her eyes shaded.

“I’m so hungry,” said Irena, her voice raised. “Rafael, you have the food parcel, don’t you?”

“Right here.” Rafael wiggled the satchel on his back. “I’m looking forward to seeing what’s inside it. Ada wouldn’t tell me.”

“She’s a secretive one. Aren’t you, Adelina?”

Adelina laughed. “You know me. I’m a riddle.” A breeze brushed across her, cooling her skin and depositing a petal in her hair. She snatched the petal and let it resume its flight. “Tell us about your manor,” she said, dividing her attention between Rafael’s back and Silvana’s exquisite profile. “How big is it?”

“Big,” said Rafael, not turning. “Thirty rooms, I believe.”

“Thirty? Father’s manor only has fifteen. What do you do with them all?”

“Well, they’re full of furniture, old artworks, you know.” Rafael scratched his neck. “We don’t use all of them.”

“How long have you been away from home?”

“Three years,” said Silvana. Adelina smiled at the sound of her lover’s voice and tried to meet Silvana’s eyes, but Silvana kept her gaze averted. Strange. “But one grows tired of wandering.”

“I’m sure I’d never grow tired of wandering. I can only imagine the sights you’ve seen in three years of roaming.”

“A great many.” Silvana lowered her hat, further concealing her face. “Not all of them pleasant.”

“And so having tasted your fill, Rafael, you want to return to the grandeur of your home to start a family?”

“Of course,” said Rafael. “There comes a time when a man puts aside self-indulgence and longs for his heir and hearth.”

“I see.” Adelina frowned at Rafael’s resolutely turned back. Why would neither of them look at her? Her mother’s suspicions returned to mind, and a slithering unease worked its way to her heart. “Who’s maintaining your manor in your absence? Tilling the land, keeping it fertile?”

“The steward, the villagers. I’m a baron, after all. I hardly played much role in daily upkeep even when I was in residence.”

“Rafael showed me his noble seal,” said Irena. “It has the coat of arms of his house. And he has a document showing his lineage. It was very impressive.”

“I’d like to see it too.” Adelina tousled the mane of her horse as her doubts mounted. Their story was entirely plausible, so why was Silvana still averting her eyes, and why did Rafael refuse to look over his shoulder?