Sorrows of Adoration (15 page)

“She’ll get to me
eventually,” I said. “Celebration or not, at some point in time
she’s going to get to me. I don’t relish the thought of what she’ll
have to say.”

“Hopefully by that time
I will have ensured Father’s approval,” Kurit said. “Which I don’t
think will be a problem, because, honestly, he said he likes
you.”

“After I acted so
foolishly?”

“I told you, he’s a
wise man. He could tell that you were nervous, and I think he found
your strangely timed laughter rather endearing.”

I was unconvinced of
their plan. It sounded quite elaborate and foolish to me, since it
would still inevitably result in Queen Kasha’s fury. But as we rode
on, they continued to work out the finer points and discuss it
enthusiastically.

* * *

We reached an inn just
as the sunset was coming to an end. Kurit requested two rooms, one
for himself and Jarik and another for me. He was, of course,
happily accommodated by the innkeeper.

I went up to the room
to wash my face and brush my hair, feeling rather dusty and unkempt
from the travel and having been working hard before it. Kurit and
Jarik went to the pub to order a meal for all of us, and I said I
would join them soon.

After making myself
more presentable, I hurried back downstairs for the meal. As I
entered the pub, I saw them at a table near the back, away from the
general rabble. I passed a table of rather drunk and loud ruffians
on my way, and one of the lot grabbed my arm as I walked by.

“Come sit with me
awhile, pretty thing,” he sneered, pulling me into his lap.

My mouth agape in
outrage, I promptly shoved my elbow into his ribs. He let me go in
surprise, as I expected. I had dealt with such men many times
before. I began to walk away, but unlike most of the drunken fools
I’d encountered, who would rightly take rejection with little more
than a rude comment, this fiend rose after me.

He caught my arm again
and forcibly swung me around. I tried to twist myself out of his
grasp, but he held tight and began pulling me towards him.

Then he did let go, for
the blade of a sword was pointed at his chest. I turned to see
Jarik holding the other end and heard him snarl, “The Lady isn’t
interested.”

Kurit was there too,
his sword also drawn, sending the room into stunned silence. He
held the sword pointed at the man, but a few steps back from Jarik.
I went to him, and he put his other arm around me protectively.

The drunk began to
blubber at the sight of the blades. He apologized frantically to
Jarik, although the words themselves were largely incoherent.

“Don’t apologize to me,
you filthy mongrel,” Jarik said in a dark voice that made me
shudder. “Get on your knees and beg the forgiveness of Lady Aenna,
the betrothed of Prince Kurit.”

The man turned a sickly
colour and sank to the floor. He babbled what sounded to be a
sincere if not entirely comprehensible apology. As he babbled,
Jarik looked at me as if to inquire what I wanted done next.

“Stop your babbling,” I
said to the man, disgusted by him yet pitying him his unexpected
predicament. “I could have Lord Jarik run you through for treating
me with such disrespect, but fortunately for you I could not
stomach such a thing. So get up and go. But the next time you feel
the urge to force yourself upon any woman, consider how close to
death you came tonight in doing so. The next lady might enjoy
seeing her husband cut you down.”

Jarik lowered his
blade, and the man shakily rose to his feet. He apologized again,
thanked me for my mercy, and ran from the pub out to the night.

The quiet room slowly
returned to normal as Kurit and Jarik sheathed their swords. Kurit
looked at me with great concern and asked if I was all right.

I nodded and said,
“I’ll be fine.”

Kurit turned to the
innkeeper, who began to issue his own profuse apologies. Kurit
waved them off and asked that our dinner be brought instead to
their room. Of course the innkeeper agreed, so we went upstairs,
Kurit’s arm never leaving me.

When we went into Kurit
and Jarik’s room—which was small, yet probably the largest
available—Kurit embraced me tightly. It seemed he was more upset
than I.

“Are you sure you’re
all right?” Jarik asked, also clearly concerned.

I tried to lighten the
mood somewhat by smiling. “Oh, you scared him sufficiently, I
should think,” I said. “He’ll think twice about ever treating any
woman like that again.” Their worry did not seem to lift at all, so
I said, “I should ask if both of you are all right. You look more
frightened than I.”

Kurit embraced me
again, even tighter than before. “Aenna, I don’t think you realize
what he may have intended.”

I rose on my toes to
kiss his cheek and then stepped out of his embrace to sit in a
chair. “Kurit, I’m not naïve.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes. “I know
what he wanted. I’ve dealt with his kind before. Most of the time
you can dissuade them with a shove or an elbow to the ribs. Some
need a kick in a tender spot to get the message. Then when we bring
the next ale, we make sure to slip a little rasset powder in their
glass. It makes them tired enough to forget chasing us and go sleep
their drunkenness off. It happens rather frequently.”

They looked at me
wide-eyed, as if they had no idea that men could be such beasts.
“I’m sorry if that shocks you both, but you have to understand,
that’s what life is like for a barmaid. Men get drunk. They come
after us. We do what we can to keep them away and hope they don’t
remember their lust when they wake.”

“And if they do?” Jarik
asked.

“
Most of the time
they feel guilty and apologize or pay us extra. Every now and then
one gets furious, so they wait until they see you go outside alone,
and
 
…” I shrugged,
not wanting to be vulgar.

Kurit realized my
implication of rape and went pale. “By the Temple!” he cried,
rushing to my side.

I quickly reassured
him. “Don’t worry, Kurit, none of them ever got to me. I’m too
smart for them. I know how to avoid them until they tire and leave.
You need not fret. I’m still a maiden.”

“Aenna, that’s not what
I was concerned about,” he said emphatically. “Well, yes, I’m as
concerned about that as I ought to be, I suppose, but my first
thought was that someone had hurt you!” He looked at me with the
same worry that I had seen in his eyes when the bolt had been
buried in my shoulder. He took my hand and held it against his
chest, and I could feel his heart was racing.

“No, Kurit, it didn’t
happen to me. In fact, you must understand, that sort of reaction
wasn’t a common occurrence by any means. Most of these men, they’re
just drunken fools, and when they sober up they remember their
wives who wait for them or their daughters at home, and they feel
awful for being such dogs.

“But it does happen.
Even at the inn where I worked in Alesha. I suppose I was lucky,” I
said.

“Luck shouldn’t enter
into it,” Jarik grumbled, taking a seat on one of the beds.
“Wretched vagrants.”

“Vagrants?” I repeated.
“No, Jarik, it’s not the poor men who are to be feared. Not at the
inns where I worked, where the innkeeper wishes to keep a good
reputation. It doesn’t do to have unwed mothers in one’s employ.
No, both innkeepers for whom I worked would cast out any vagrant
who became scurrilous. It was the noblemen who we feared.”

“Oh, Aenna, really. No
nobleman I know of would ever do such a thing,” said Kurit.

“Now who’s being
naïve?” I retorted. “Kurit, they are the worst of the lot! Not most
of them, mind you. But of the men who try to have their way with
the barmaids, the noblemen are the ones to fear because the
innkeeper won’t risk his life or business to stop them, and there
is no recourse for the poor girl afterwards.”

Kurit turned to Jarik,
and they exchanged a look of disbelief.

“You don’t believe
me?”

“Forgive us, Aenna,”
Jarik replied hurriedly. “It’s not that we doubt your words, but
it’s an alarming thing to hear.”

“I can’t imagine anyone
I know being such a vile cad,” said Kurit.

“Well, it happens,” I
bluntly stated. “They do it because they can, and if she tries to
cause trouble afterward, well, it’s his word against hers, and who
would you believe? The little peasant tramp who got herself in a
fix, or the noble lord who denies it ever happened? My kind are
always assumed to be wretched little liars.”

The two men stared at
me uncomfortably, and then both averted their eyes as they realized
that I spoke the truth.

“I never thought of it
before,” Jarik quietly admitted, his voice full of shame.

“Nor I,” said Kurit,
but with more anger than Jarik. “Aenna, give me names. I want the
names of men who call themselves noble and would do such a
thing.”

“Why?” I asked, looking
at him incredulously. “Are you going to ride up to their door and
accuse them, with no proof but my word?”

“Well, I can’t very
well sit and do nothing! I had no idea such things occurred!”

“Kurit, that’s the life
of the poor. We live under the whim and rule of the nobility. And
most of the time, we’re fine. Not every nobleman who comes to the
inn is a brute. I remember once, several years ago, Lord Cael
himself stopped at our inn, and he was most kind. He was friendly
and courteous, even to myself and the other barmaids. And before he
retired, he gave each of us three gold coins. I bought a new dress,
which I sorely needed, and we each bought our own hairbrushes, and
some scented bath salts, and still had enough left to save for
another day.

“Most of the rest of
them come in, have their food and ale, stay the night, and leave
without incident. It’s just the rare brute, and honestly, you can’t
stop them without following every man to every inn and watching
their every move.”

Jarik sat staring at
the wall, shaking his head slowly, in sadness or anger I could not
tell. “I cannot accept that there is nothing to be done.”

I realized this was the
opportunity to change a great injustice. I had the ear of the
future King and his cousin, so I said, “If you truly want to punish
them, there is a way that may work.”

“What is it?” Kurit
asked eagerly.

“I remember one time, a
son of a distant province’s lord—don’t ask me his name, I don’t
recall it, honestly—he took a fancy to Elaene, my friend, who being
rather dim didn’t heed my advice to put the rasset in his wine. He
wasn’t even drunk when he dragged her up to his room. There were
not many people at the inn that night, just this young lord and his
entourage. The other barmaid and I, we wept for Elaene, because we
could hear her screams. The innkeeper was angry, but did
nothing.

“But I noticed others
who were very upset: his two guards. They were of the King’s Guard,
and though they were loyal to the young lord, I saw in their faces
a great hatred for him when he returned. They probably had
daughters or sisters who work at inns and knew all too well that
their own kin might fall prey to the same fate.”

“So what are you
advising, that they be allowed to slay the lord they are sworn to
protect?” Jarik asked.

“
No,” I said.
“That would be helpful to the poor girl, but if a guard ever
misunderstood his lord’s harmless flirting as a potential
danger
 
…”

“Plus we cannot allow
the chain of command to degrade. There would be too many other
repercussions,” Kurit said as he finally left my side to take a
seat of his own.

“But what if you
empowered the King’s Guards to make testimony against the lord whom
they serve?” I suggested.

“How would that help?”
Jarik asked.

“Right now, if that
same event occurred today,” I hypothesized, “could those enraged
guards have reported to their captain or another lord or whomever
what had occurred?”

“I suppose they could,”
Kurit mused, “but if they’ve taken an oath of loyalty, then an
honourable man would not break his oath and question his lord’s
behaviour.”

“But an honourable man
would wish to stop a dishonourable act,” I said.

Kurit nodded
thoughtfully. “Yes, he would. It would be a question of which was
the greater dishonour—to break an oath or to uphold the law.”

“That’s a difficult
question,” Jarik said. “A man’s oath is his honour. But the King’s
Guards swear an oath to uphold the law and act in righteousness. It
would be a question of which oath to break.”

“And given that
breaking the oath against his lord could mean expulsion …”
started Kurit.

“Or worse punishments,
depending on how he broke the oath,” Jarik interjected.

“… 
then
inevitably the man would chose to serve his lord.” Kurit leaned
forward in the chair, resting his forehead on his entwined
hands.

“Then change the oath
sworn to the lords to include a phrase that says, ‘I swear this
oath on the condition that my lord does not harm the innocent,’” I
suggested.

Kurit sat back up and
shook his head. “No, the oath cannot contain a condition. The point
of an oath is to swear allegiance, even when it is difficult to
give it.”

“But,” said Jarik, “it
could be made law that the King’s Guards must uphold their pledge
to the King, to uphold the law, above any other oath made.”

“So then they could
strike against a lord who was doing wrong,” I added.

Kurit rose from his
chair and began to pace about the room, rubbing his chin in
thought. “No, that would never pass as law. The Council would not
approve.”

“What if it became part
of their oath to the King to report any lawbreaking, by anyone, and
then that must be upheld above any other oath?” I asked.