“Don’t oppose him,” the woman said in a low tone. “He will make it terrible for your family. Do what he wants, until he tires of you. Then he will let you go, if you are circumspect, and you won’t suffer.”
“How do you know?” Haven asked, torn.
“I was his mistress, three years ago. I wore fine gowns and precious perfume. I was beautiful. As you will be; he has rare judgment in that respect. He likes lovely women, and he makes them so, in privacy. He recognized your potential when he saw you yesterday. Now my status is reduced, but my family is secure and I am not worked hard. I can leave if I want to, without suffering. So can the others, once he tires of them. Just be discreet, and you will prosper.”
“And if I am not. . . discreet?”
“Then you had better escape to the hills, before he kills your children.”
A cold hand clenched Haven’s gut. This was a Farmer woman; she had no reason to deceive another of her kind. Yet the situation was intolerable.
“The chief—does he know of this?”
“Oh, yes. Sometimes Bub brings him an especially appealing girl. He doesn’t care, as long as order is kept.”
Haven felt another chill. “Girl?”
“The chief likes them young. Beware.” Her eyes flicked toward Tour. “That one is pretty enough. Believe me, it is better to keep Bub happy. Then he will protect you.”
“You–you are married?”
“Yes. My husband knows. He hates it, but he knows the penalty for balking. So he pretends not to know. That is the way it must be.”
This was even worse than Haven had feared. Probably Bub had told the woman to tell her this, but that didn’t make it any less real. The family could prosper, or suffer horribly, depending on Haven’s decision. What was she to do?
The woman touched her arm. “I know your pain. But it must be. Unless you flee immediately.”
“We can’t go back. There’s a drought.”
“So it was with us. Bub makes sure his prey is secure before he strikes.”
“The others here in this barracks—they would all know. They saw me go with him.”
“None of them will tell. They know they would be tortured to death as traitors.”
So it was a conspiracy of silence, governed by fear. Haven had not much liked the idea of coming here, but had thought her fear of the unknown was probably exaggerated. Now she knew the opposite was the case.
“This is awful,” Haven said.
“I am sorry. Your children are very nice.” The woman turned and walked quickly away.
Haven wrestled with the problem all day, but could come to no decision. She was torn between intolerable evils. What was she to do?
Late in the day the woman returned. “Your people have worked well,” she said. “You will be fed well. But remember why.” She departed.
It proved to be so. Hero and Craft were tired but satisfied; they could handle the work. Crenelle and Rebel were pleased; they had helped carry food to the crew working on the grave during the day, including their three men, and it had actually been pleasant. They had seen women toiling in far more menial chores, and were glad to have avoided that.
But Haven knew they would not avoid that, and worse, if she did not do Bub’s bidding. Did she have any choice?
The food from the kitchen was excellent; it really needed no additional preparation. Everyone was pleased, except Haven, who knew its price.
She saw Tour go to her mother and whisper in her ear. Crenelle looked sharply at Haven. Oh, no—the child had told about the meeting with Bub! Haven hadn’t thought to warn her not to. But maybe it would be possible to conceal the larger portion of it; the child had no inkling of that.
But Crenelle did. She signaled her brother, who nodded. Then he spoke. “The crisis is upon us,” he said. “We must have a family meeting.”
“No!” Haven cried. “The children—”
“They belong to the family too,” Harbinger said. “They must know.”
“But this—”
Crenelle looked at her. “Bub wants you for his mistress,” she said.
Hero and Craft jerked upright. “What?” Hero asked.
In this dreadful revelation, Haven could think of only one thing to say. “How could you know?”
“We are of this culture,” Crenelle said. “We recognize the signs. We thought we had escaped the penalty, but now we know better. Tell us what he said.”
It was almost a relief to let it out. “He wants me to be his mistress. If I am, the family will prosper and have a wonderful chamber in the palace. If I balk, it will be terrible.” She looked up through tear-blurred eyes. “But how could I ever do it?”
“You can’t,” Crenelle said. “And neither can I. But Rebel can.”
“I couldn’t ask her to—”
“I can do what the family needs me to do,” Rebel said. “We can prosper, or we can suffer.”
“But I’m the one he approached,” Haven said.
“But I can take him from you, sister,” Rebel said.
She surely could. Haven knew herself to be a handsome woman, but Crenelle was prettier, and Rebel prettier yet. “But I’m the one he has access to. I can’t leave the children.”
“I think you will have to join me as a serving maid,” Crenelle said. “Rebel will care for the children.”
“We can manage by ourselves,” Tour said.
Haven felt a chill, remembering what the Farmer woman had told her of the king’s interests. She couldn’t repeat that, though.
Crenelle nevertheless understood. “Gossip has it that the chief likes children.”
Wanly, Haven nodded.
Crenelle turned to her daughter. “You do need to be with one of our adults. Both of you.”
“Why?” Tour asked challengingly, as Risk nodded. “If they like children, what harm can come? We had a fine time in the kitchen today.”
“Because if you are not protected, one of the Trader men could take you for sex.”
Tour started to laugh, then froze, realizing that this was not humor. She knew what sex was, and knew that children might see it but not participate in it. She surely had played innocent sexual games with other children, but never gone the full route with a man. Then she started to twitch.
Haven was closest to her. She reached out and pulled the girl’s face into her bosom, comforting her. No one else gave any indication of awareness.
“I will protect the children,” Rebel said, and it was clear that she meant that in more than one sense. “I will see that we get the good lodging and good work.”
Craft glanced sidelong at her. “What if he reneges?”
“Then I’ll castrate him.”
Hero smiled, grimly. “Give us time to get well out of Trader territory, first.”
“Of course.”
No one laughed. Even Tour nodded slowly.
Thus it was decided, to Haven’s immense relief.
Next morning, Rebel remained “home” and Haven went with Crenelle and Flo and Jes. The other two women looked surprised, but didn’t comment. So Haven did: “We concluded that I could do a better job here.”
“We didn’t see Rebel as the nurturing kind,” Flo said.
“She isn’t.”
“Tell me if this is not my business. Something happened?”
Haven decided that it would be better to have her real reason privately known, than a mystery. “Bub wants me for a mistress.”
Flo shook her head. “I was afraid of that. You can’t escape him this way; he’ll make it hard for your whole family until you acquiesce.”
“We think Rebel can handle it.”
Flo nodded. “She is a remarkably comely women. But why would she be willing to undertake such a chore?”
“We are a family.”
“I think I like your family. I hope it works.”
“It surely will,” Crenelle said. “Rebel is talented.”
“She will have to be. Bub is a bad man to cross.”
/>
They went first to the kitchen. It was an impressive place, just as the children had said. Several men and women worked to cook whole animals, and there was a huge hearth over which they baked bread.
“We’ll eat here, while they set up our order,” Flo said. “We get the scraps, but they’re good scraps; I’m on good terms with the baker.”
So she was. They were given a pile of broken pieces of bread and pastries, not sightly, but fresh and very tasty.
“Any time you want, you can eat here,” Flo said. “Once they know you. Just appear, and they’ll give you the scraps, which are always fresh. I come here too much.” She patted her hips, which were ample.
“But why are they so generous?” Haven asked.
“They want to be sure we don’t steal any of the food we take to the workers,” Jes explained. “So they make sure we’re not hungry. It’s important that the workers get their due.”
Soon the workers’ rations were ready: four large wicker baskets piled with bread, hunks of roasted meat, vegetables, and crocks of drink. Flo, the stoutest, took the heaviest, which was the drink, and the others took the remaining baskets. Haven got the meat, and Crenelle the bread. The baskets were heavy, but manageable. They carried them out of the kitchen to the gate, and then on down a path into the forest.
It was some distance, and Haven’s arms grew tired, though she was accustomed to carrying things. This was not rough work, but it was indeed work. She was relieved when they paused to rest, and she could stretch and limber her arms.
When they finally arrived at the grave site, she was impressed anew. She had pictured a secluded glade with some overturned earth, though she knew it was a bigger project than that. The reality was a huge construction site with perhaps a dozen men digging a cavity in the ground big enough to hold a Farmer village. Several enormous stones were lying around the edges, somehow brought here for this purpose though Haven had no idea how mere men could have moved them.
“Smile and hand out your wares freely,” Flo said as they came to the tables set up for this. “It’s no secret that the thought of being fed by pretty women helps motivate the men. Don’t favor your own men too freely; it spoils the effect.”
Haven smiled and gave out the chunks of meat to each man who passed her basket. When Hero came, she winked but did not give him a larger piece. He nodded, understanding. None of them wanted to imperil their positions; they were still very new to this work.
Soon all the food was gone. They picked up their empty baskets and carried them back along the trail. They did not dawdle; the supervisors knew how long this job took, and would not tolerate malingering.
Four more baskets were ready when they arrived. They hauled these out to the grave site. The distance was far enough so that a significant part of the day had passed by the time they got there, and the men were hungry again. It seemed that the men were fed as often as feasible; this was important work.
It soon became routine. As she toiled with her basket, Haven pondered their situation. Had Rebel been able to satisfy Bub, so that his wrath would not fall on the family? Rebel was a beautiful woman, and sexually talented, but Bub had chosen Haven and might well be angry at her avoidance of him. He could punish them readily enough by doing nothing, letting them remain in the foul quarters they had started in. Would he do so? Or would he demand that Haven herself come to him, not any substitute? It was pointless to worry about it, yet she did.
Toward evening they delivered their last load and returned. They would normally be allowed to take scraps home for their families, Flo said. But this time the head cook shook his head. Haven and Crenelle could not take any.
Haven’s heart sank. It was happening. The punishment was starting.
“Not necessarily,” Crenelle murmured. “Some food could have been sent already.” But Haven was not much reassured.
“We had better check on this,” Flo said. So she and Jes accompanied them to the barracks.
Their stall was empty. Rebel and the children were not there, and neither were their scant belongings. Haven’s dread intensified. How bad was this?
A guard approached. “Your quarters have changed,” he said abruptly. “Follow me.”
“That has to be an improvement,” Jes said, wrinkling her nose. But Haven still was not much reassured.
The guard led them to the lovely suite she had been shown before. There were Rebel and the children. Risk ran out to hug Haven, and she hugged him back, her relief overflowing. It was all right!
“We’ll leave you now,” Flo said, smiling. “You seem to have found much favor.” She and her sister departed.
“I hoped it would be this way,” Crenelle whispered. “I knew that if anyone could do it, Rebel could. But these things are never certain.”
The men had not yet returned. That gave the women a chance to compare notes while the children settled down for the night.
“What happened?” Crenelle asked Rebel.
Rebel smiled. “What I do, I try to do well. I made myself attractive and waited for his visit. And do you know what? He wasn’t even surprised. He said, ‘You are the one I wanted, but I knew you would fight if I chose you directly. So I arranged it so that you would choose it.’ And I said, ‘You disgusting schemer! You put poor Haven through that for this?’ And he said, ‘Does that anger you?’ And I said, ‘Yes!’ And he said, ‘And what will you do about it?’ And I kissed him. And he said, ‘I love a woman with fire. Now show me what you can do.’ So I showed him.” She gestured around the chamber. “Here is the result.”
“He knows you hate his scheming, yet he wants you?” Haven asked, bemused.
“That’s the way he wants me,” Rebel said. “I have to give him credit: he found a way to make me come to him. He’s a sharp judge of women. I hadn’t known he was looking at me, when we came here.”
“And can you carry it through?” Crenelle asked.
“Yes. The price is right. The family, the children—this secures our winter. And the best part is that I’ll never have to marry him, or even spend too much time with him, because his wife would object. It’s a limited engagement.”
Haven’s relief continued, but it was tinged with disgust. Bub and Rebel were cynically using each other. But it did indeed secure the family and protect the children.
That was the way of it, as fall passed into winter. The children loved it, for they were well treated, and they understood about being circumspect. Sometimes they were actually in Bub’s suite when Rebel went for a tryst, but they said nothing. Haven found that she liked carrying food; it gave her a chance to see the men several times in the day, and she still was with the children at night.
The work on the passage grave went well. Craft had always been good with tools and designs, and he consulted with Ned and found ways to improve the design. The chief was pleased with the progress.
After a month, when there was a heavy rain that made the grave site too soggy for work, Haven and Craft were allowed to take time off to visit the farm. Haven knew this was really another reward for Rebel’s cooperation, but it was one she gladly accepted.
“It’s actually a good life,” Craft remarked as they walked along with the three dogs. “But I wish I could believe that we achieved it on merit.”
“We do have merit,” Haven said. “But I agree with you. When spring comes, I’ll be glad to go home.”
The forest was as deep and dark as ever, but now it seemed friendly. This was where her people lived, protected and sustained by that forest. The dogs were thrilled to run through it again.
Keeper greeted them and the dogs gladly. News had circulated, so he had known they were doing well, but he was lonely. The animals were lean though in good health, but the harvest had been poor. There was no question: the family was better off where it was.
They set off on the return trip next day, for they had no time to loiter. Haven’s feelings were mixed; she hated leaving Keeper, and was sorry to see that the rain had not come to this region, w
here it was so much needed. But she was glad again that the family had found such a good situation among the Traders.
“If he had insisted on you,” Craft inquired as they walked, “would you have done it?”
“I would have had to,” she said grimly. “You know, I had been concerned that Rebel might have an eye on my husband, and he on her. But she is certainly coming through for me now, and for all of us. She can do what it would pain me to do.”
“I must admit that I find Crenelle a most attractive woman,” Craft said. “Of course I would not—”
“Of course.”
“But I can’t help dreaming what it would be like to embrace her. So I can appreciate how Rebel must feel. I agree: she has really come through for us all.”
That was the case. Haven knew she owed her sister much. Maybe it was true that Bub had wanted Rebel all along, but maybe he merely believed that after she set out to impress him. Certainly he was satisfied with her now, and all of them were reaping the benefits. It seemed best to leave it at that.
Haven was glad to return to the family, despite a lingering unease about the reason for their good fortune. There was another component to her muted distress, but she couldn’t quite figure it out.
When spring came, they were still doing well. And the farm remained in drought. They couldn’t return yet; they would starve.
There was another complication. “He is tiring of me,” Rebel told Haven. “He doesn’t know it yet, but I see the signs. It is his nature to desire what he can’t have; he doesn’t truly care for any woman. So I’ll be free in another month or so, or when he spies another fetching damsel. But I think the family is secure; Craft and Hero are doing good work, and the working crews like you and Crenelle.”
Haven nodded. “We can stay, and have a good life. But something bothers me about it.”
“We’re losing our sense of the farm,” Rebel said. “The children, especially. They like it here perhaps too much.”
That was it! That was what had been nagging Haven all winter. Not that there was a problem here, but that there was not. They were doing too well, and becoming loath to give it up. “Our culture—we are in danger of becoming Traders,” she said. “Of losing our individuality. That would be awful.”