Sylvie Sommerfield - Noah's Woman (6 page)

Just the mention of food made both Charity and Beth swallow convulsively.

"Come with me," Amiee said. She turned and walked away with no doubt in her mind that they would follow. With their eyes on the two men, Charity and Beth filed between them and followed Amiee. Neither were sure where they were going, but neither had the strength or the courage to put up any argu-

ment against two men who could have snapped them in two.

Amiee led them to a closed carriage. Inside she sat with one man beside her while Charity and Beth sat on either side of the other. Neither girl had any inclination to argue or to question. They knew they could possible have jumped from the frying pan into the fire, but they'd heard the mention of food and that had been a siren song.

They did not travel far and they did not leave the shadowy side of the city.

The carriage stopped before a huge, double-storey warehouse. It sat in a section of similar buildings that formed an open-ended box. The center area was cobblestones and had a random assortment of benches and chairs. It looked like a world all its own. When they left the carriage they did not enter the warehouse by the front doors, which were huge affairs that could accommodate loaded wagons. Instead they walked down a dark alleyway and reached a flight of wooden steps that had certainly seen better days. Single file they made their way up, with Amiee in the lead. Charity and Beth were followed by the silent men.

At the top, Amiee removed a key from the folds of her skirts and unlocked the door. Warmth and assorted smells Charity could not name met them. Inside, Charity could make out only one room in the near darkness, but when one of the men lit a lantern, they could see several open doorways.

What intrigued Charity more than the space was the scent of food. She didn't know what it was, nor

did she care. Her mouth watered and a wave of dizziness washed over her so strongly that she nearly fell. A huge strong hand gripped her arm, and she looked up into the unreadable face of the larger of the two men.

She shivered. Hunger and weariness had clouded her mind, and her reactions were slow.

"Minnow," Amiee said softly, "go and tell Jemima to bring some food before our two strays fall down. I'm in no mood to dispose of bodies."

Minnow! Had she called this huge person Minnow? Of all the inappropriate names, this was the worst. Charity was too giddy to suppress a giggle. Minnow cast her a withering glance, but she could see Amiee's face struggle for immobility. She turned to speak to the second man after Minnow had gone.

"Tiny, I think you'd better go and see if we can scare up some clothes from the others. A few more ounces of dirt and these clothes are going to fall off of them."

Tiny! That was even more ludicrous. But this time Charity contained her amusement. The scent of food had sent her stomach into cramps, and the room seemed to waver about her.

"Sit down before you fall." Amiee snapped the order, but Charity needed no encouragement. Her legs were so weak she would have sagged to the floor had not a chair been close by. Beth fared no better. Her face was as white as a sheet, partly from hunger and partly from fear.

The room was silent as Amiee assessed her two guests. She decided at once that she had made the right choice in protecting them. But she was curious

about how two helpless lambs had gotten into this fix.

Before Charity could master herself, a small form appeared in one of the doorways. It was a child of perhaps eight. She limped inside on a twisted foot, and when the lamplight fell on her face, Charity saw that although her body was young, her eyes were old. Old and wary and distrusting. Charity smiled at her, but the smile was not returned. Instead the girl set the basket between Charity and Beth and quietly left the room.

"That was Emma. She can't talk, but she's not as helpless as she looks. I don't know what's in the basket," Amiee said, "but you'd best eat. There won't be more until tomorrow."

Charity slid from the chair to her knees by the basket and tore it open. She was so hungry that her hands shook and tears came to her eyes. Inside the basket was a half loaf of bread, some cheese, and several pieces of fruit. Charity tore pieces from the bread and cheese and handed them to Beth, who uttered an inarticulate sound. Charity fought to keep from wolfing the food down, but still, when the first poorly chewed bite hit her stomach, she bent forward, clutching her stomach as it convulsed.

"Eat slowly and chew well," Amiee commanded. Her voice was firm and cold, and neither girl saw the combined anger and sympathy that momentarily touched her eyes.

Both girls, trembling, tried to obey. After a while they won the battle and the food remained in their stomachs.

When Amiee was satisfied that they were fed, they were led to a room where a large wooden tub was filled with warm water. They had no way of knowing that this was Amiee's tub or that she had never allowed its use by anyone else before.

Charity almost groaned aloud as she sank into the water and washed the layers of dirt from her hair and skin. Beth, too, was intoxicated by the pleasure.

Their clothes were taken away and clean ones brought. The clothing was an assortment so odd that Charity realized they were odds and ends. But they were clean, and for now that was all that mattered.

Both girls were exhausted and afraid of getting lost in this unique structure. So they sat quietly and waited. But the wait was long, and soon they dropped off into much-needed sleep.

Charity drifted up from sleep and stirred. In her dream she was again curled in the warmth of a soft bed. She snuggled beneath the blankets and drew the pillow over her head. Pillow? Bed?

She sat up abruptly. Sometime during the night she had been moved. She felt uncomfortable at the thought. When she looked about, she saw Beth curled in a ball in a bed across the room from her. Then she realized there was another bed in the room, but it was empty.

The sun coming in the window was pale, and Charity sensed it must be early morning. There was no way of knowing how long she had slept.

She tossed the covers aside and walked to the one

window. Using the tips of her fingers she cleaned a circle in the thick dust so she could look out.

The center court bustled with activity. There were children of all ages, urchins in ragged clothes, grown men and women who looked extremely strange to Charity until she realized that they were dressed in everything from rags to rather fine-looking clothes. They looked like a hodgepodge of people thrown together by accident.

Charity could hear the sound of muffled voices coming from a nearby room and she threw a blanket about herself and crossed to the half-open door. When she pushed it open she found Amiee, Tiny, Minnow, and several others seated at a table, eating and talking.

It was Minnow who saw her first, but soon they were all gazing at her. This was the first time Charity had really looked at Amiee. She was pretty in a gypsy kind of way. She had even features, a generous mouth, and a thick mass of black curly hair that hung below her shoulders.

Charity was invited to join them for breakfast, and soon she found she was relaxing and truly enjoying the openness of these people. They seemed to have no roots, and to have come from every walk of life, yet after a while she realized their roots were that this hodgepodge of people made up a kind of family. And this collection of rough buildings that they had lovingly called "the Round" was their home.

They supported each other by any means at their disposal, and she was sure most were a bit shady. She knew one thing for certain: This was a communal af-

fair, and one day, if she and Beth wanted to stay, they would have to find a way to contribute.

Charity and Beth had been in the Round for over two weeks, and both knew quite well that Amiee and all the others watched every move they made. Charity had a feeling that Amiee was assessing them much as she would if she were intending to hire them. Beth and Charity wondered whether or not they would pass inspection. Both rather wished they would, because they felt a sense of peace and contentment . . . and acceptance here.

It was early in the morning several days later as Charity was dressing that Amiee approached her.

"Good morning."

Charity spun about, startled at the sound of her voice. Amiee stood in the doorway, one shoulder braced against it and her arms folded across her chest. Charity wondered how long she had stood watching her before she had spoken.

Actually, Amiee had been there from the moment Charity had gotten up from the bed. She had watched her closely. Always an excellent judge of people, she had no trouble characterizing Charity, an excellent actress, a girl who could look and act like a lady of culture and exude an aura of sweet innocence. She was perfect for what Amiee had in mind.

Of course, her plans depended on Charity's being persuaded to agree. Aimee knew that Charity was wary and careful.

"Good morning," Charity replied. "I've never really had the chance to thank you, Amiee."

''That's all right."

"And Minnow and Tiny have been so protective."

"Minnow is a gentle giant."

"Minnow." Again Charity stifled a laugh.

"I would not let him find you laughing at his name. We don't know what his real name is. It seems he was chucked into the river when he was a babe, and a friend of mine pulled him out while he was fishing. He called him Minnow, and it stuck. But he tends to get violent if the wrong person laughs at his name."

"You are all so very special and you've created your own world here. I admire that. Compared to you all, I'm nobody."

"Everyone is someone. Why did we find you and Beth in an alley looking like two little lambs about to make a meal for Shylock?"

"It's a long story." Charity wasn't quite prepared to trust anyone with the whole truth of where she had come from and why.

"I've plenty of time . . . unless you plan to leave right now." Amiee added softly, "You have to trust someone, sometime."

"It's hard to leave when we have no place to go."

"Then you can stay, and perhaps trust will come later."

"No," Charity said quietly. "It's time for decisions now."

She walked back to the bed and sat cross-legged in the middle of it. Amiee didn't move. Slowly Charity began to explain how Beth and she had gotten into the predicament they were in. Amiee didn't interrupt. The older woman was watching her so intently that

Charity's nerves stretched tighter with every second. When she finished the story, Amiee stood still, as if she were considering the implications of Charity's words.

"Why did you not just give him what he wanted? Think of how much you had to gain."

"He was a pig." Charity's chin went up proudly and her eyes glowed with anger. "I wouldn't sell myself to him like a toy for a few baubles."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Amiee murmured. "You're stronger than you know, Charity. Some people never understand that the stronger person bends with the wind and the weak, brittle person breaks. You'll do what needs to be done, and I feel you'll be good at it."

"Good at what?"

"Being believed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Charity replied. "If you think I'm going to do for you what that beast in the alley wanted me to do for him, you're crazy. You can have your clothes back, and somehow I'll find a way to repay you for the food and the bed."

Amiee's laugh was full and free. "You think I am a whore?"

"I didn't say that."

"I am not a whore and none of my people are. The street was my home until . . . never mind about that. You may choose to stay or to go. Either way you will have to learn to do things that are necessary for survival."

"Where do you come from?" Charity asked.

"Who knows? It's not where you come from, but

who and where you are." Amiee finally walked close to Charity and sat down beside her. "When you ran, did you consider what you were running to?"

"I didn't have time for that."

"You didn't think it would be so ugly or so hard out here, and you didn't consider how you would care for your friend."

"I guess I didn't. But I had to make a decision."

"Are you up to making another one?"

"I can listen. I have few choices, and I don't relish the thought of going out on those streets and starving."

"You could go back and give in, or you could learn how to survive here."

"I won't go back," Charity said stubbornly. Her gaze met Amiee's. "And I will survive. I'll see that Beth survives too."

"Not unless you learn a lot more."

"I'm not exactly stupid."

"No, just green."

"Perhaps."

"But you are strong and determined, I'll give you that."

Charity knew she and Beth could not survive on the streets alone, just as she knew she could not go back. She had to swallow both her anger and the pride that would put her and Beth back in a situation that would drain the life from them both. She had to learn whatever it took to keep her and Beth safe. She had to.

"Amiee . . . what is it you're suggesting we do?" she asked quietly.

Over the next few days Charity began to learn just what was expected of her and Beth.

One night, when Beth and she found themselves alone in their sleeping quarters, they discussed their new friends.

"Charity, they're . . . they're thieves. They're pickpockets. They're . . . I don't know what else!"

"Highwaymen, bandits, swindlers, and sundry other things." Charity smiled. "And they only steal from those who can afford it. Better yet, they eat regularly."

"They steal the food they eat!"

"Yes," Charity said quietly, "and they stole the food that fed us and kept us from starving."

"I know. You should see how . . . adept Piper is," Beth said, mentioning the twelve-year-old girl who was instructing her in the ways of the Round.

"I can imagine. Beth . . . no one stays here that can't or won't pull their own weight. We have to learn."

"Learn! To steal!"

"I suppose it comes down to that. We can't live on their efforts; they can't afford it."