Into the Goodnight Ch. 03

"Sow?"

He perked up a little when she looked at him. "Yes, she ran away, miss, the hog I was to take to the butcher's. I was to get a whole mite for the job. But she pulled off her leash and was gone before I could catch her," he explained, his small little shoulders slumping in dejection. "Now I'll get a beating instead of a coin."

She sighed, her expression indicating a headache was not far off. "Where did this happen?"

"The fairway 'round by the butcher alley. I was sussing her along when suddenly this mob of people moved through. They cut me off and she ran away. I saw she turned right down a lane, but when I got there, there was too many people. I...I lost her."

Chasing a hog was not her idea of...well, anything. Not fun. Not a job she would choose. And not something she wanted to help with. She opened her mouth to refuse him, to say that she didn't feel well, but his eyes. They were so large. So hopeful and needy. And so with a sigh, she took a green triangle of fabric from her lap and tied it back over her hair, hiding her shame. Aurelia stood up and dusted her skirts. The morning sun was moving on, large, fat clouds blowing off the ocean coming and going.

"Very well, I'll help you. Come on, show me where you last saw it."

As the boy led her on, winding through the throng of folk out tending to their daily duties in the marketplaces, the pair remained silent. Despite the prospect of distraction in aiding the boy, she found her mind drifting back to the night before, reliving how Maks' strong arm had wrapped around her and held her close to him. How she had cried herself to sleep and felt comforted all at the same time. She cleared her throat and tried to distract herself.

"What do they call you?"

"I'm Marcus, miss. And what is your name, miss?"

Her initial impulse was to instruct him to call her your highness, but somehow that seemed out of place now, and so, swallowing, she gave her name. "You may call me Aurelia." Though she had shared her name somberly, she was a little pleased that she had voluntarily introduced herself to someone. Looking down on his darkly colored head, she didn't let his young, unimportant age diminish her achievement.

"O-ray-lee-yaw." He pronounced slowly, the syllables almost tangling his tongue, his head cocked as he concentrated. "Aurelia," he said with a little more confidence.

She smiled sardonically and nodded. "I've seen you before."

He nodded. "Yes, miss."

"Always with some animal." There was a smile in her tone.

"It's my job, miss."

"Job? Aren't you too young?"

He stuck out his bottom lip. "The butcher, the man what took me in, gives me the job of fetching the animals from the farms what want to sell them. But I can do it. I can do a man's work just same as anyone," he insisted, somehow looking more rigid as he walked, as if he could will height and strength into his young little body.

She smiled softly and continued looking around, knowing arguing was pointless. "Where did you lose this pig, then?" she asked, looking tiredly down the dark alleyways as they passed.

"But two rows from the butcher's." And just as he said, they found the pig lying in the shade of a small little street that had no outlet.

"If you knew where she was, why'd you need me?" Aurelia asked when they easily spotted her.

"To catch her, miss." Aurelia blinked, looking at the large sow, covered in muck with large, pale pink teats sagging so low they almost dragged the ground as she stood. "Careful, miss, she's quick." He started to walk forward slowly, pulling the lead rope from around his waist. "And a little mean," he added over his shoulder.

Aurelia's eyes were round as saucers. "What do you expect me to do?" she asked in a panicked hiss, suddenly frighteningly aware of how inadequate her skills were to contribute anything.

"Just stand there, miss, and if she runs at you, catch her!" he commanded, Aurelia gaping at the idea, and he made a quick dash for the pig now rocking back and forth on its four legs, trapped in the corner. But a trapped animal never stands still for long, waiting to be devoured, but runs manically for escape, even if that be toward the hunter himself. Little Marcus leapt toward the fleeing pig as she surged by, but landed loudly on his belly with a great 'oomph!'

"Whatd'I do? Whatd'I do?" Aurelia shouted, her naturally husky voice raising to a high squeak. "Marcus!" she yelled frantically once more, right before she squeezed her eyes shut and then impetuously dove for the charging animal with a girlish shriek of alarm. She registered the power of the collision, before the pain that exploded...just everywhere. In the melee, the stupid animal stepped a sharp hoof on her hip once it had slammed her onto her back, causing her head to crack on the muck-covered cobblestone. There may have been groans and a couple of yells, until Marcus had tied the leash around its neck once more and dragged the wiggling animal off her.

Aurelia lay panting in the street, staring up at the low, gray clouds floating overhead. And then without forewarning, fat raindrops poured down in sheets. Exhausted and in pain, Aurelia only turned her face so the rain didn't hit her directly in the eyes.

"Come, miss! The butcher's not far!" Marcus shouted. There was a note of excitement in his shriek, no doubt caused by the rain and the victory of capturing his quarry.

She shoved herself up to lean on her elbows, her pained head slowly spinning into place. Not caring that anyone heard her unladylike sounds, she groaned as she hauled herself to her feet. She had to close one eye so she could focus without seeing two of everything. She watched as Marcus led the fat pig off, and rubbing the back of her head, she followed him, eventually breaking into a limping jog.

They arrived at the butcher, coming through the open door like twin dervishes. A big burly man, who was laying a slab of some sort of meat on a table for a small, hunched customer, looked up at the commotion as they entered, his frown dampening their momentary lift of spirits, causing the air to go somber and gray. As he turned his attention back to the customer, Aurelia dabbed at the water on her face, her smile slowly fading as she took in the halved and quartered carcasses hanging from the high beams overhead. A large fire in the mammoth brick oven was near to roaring, pumping billows of rich smelling smoke up a tall, rickety chimney and out into the cold, wet air.

"And this is how much?" the weak-voiced costumer asked, apparently a very elderly woman.

"Crown for a half a pound," the butcher replied. There was a moment's pause until he looked away, abashed. "It's the best I can do," he mumbled.

The figure, wrapped in loose dark gray and brown clothing nodded and visibly slumped even further. "I see."

"Excuse me while you think," he grumbled and turned his attention to the boy. "Marcus! There you are!" He started making his way to where Marcus stood just in the doorway out of the pouring rain. "Where have you been? I should take a strap to you," he threatened as he came to stand in front of the boy.

As she wound through the various hanging slabs of meat, Aurelia had been watching the interaction between the butcher and the old woman who was obviously disappointed in either the quality of meat or the price or both, but when the large man addressed the little boy, her attention switched. Marcus looked somewhat contrite, but not afraid of the man's bluster, making Aurelia feel as though he wasn't in any real danger. She looked back at the small figure of the old woman who walked with great pains to the door to leave. Her thin, white hair was pulled back in a tight little bun, her nose large like a hawk's beak, her skin wrinkled and weathered with age, and her back hunched so that she was forced to look more down at the ground than straight ahead. But her most disturbing feature was the awfully labored hobble each time her right foot took a step. Securing a scarf over her head, she made her way out into the rain. Aurelia's eyes followed her out the door until she disappeared past a corner.

"And who's your friend, then?" the burly man with the gruff voice demanded. But when Aurelia turned to him, her pretty mouth turned down at the corners in a soft frown, the man gave a jolt, as if a lightning bolt had burned down from the sky and struck him.

"This is my friend, Aurelia," Marcus explained, peering up at the pretty lady. "She helped me."

"Helped you?" the man asked, addressing the boy but unable to turn his gaze from the beautiful woman.

But Marcus clamped his mouth shut, his wide eyes as he realized he was yet again admitting to having had trouble escorting the animals. If it continued happening, he was rightfully afraid the butcher would find someone else to do the job right.

"Actually, it's more of the other way around," Aurelia stated, stepping in. "I ran into the pig. Trampled me, you might say," she added drolly, looking down at the mud smeared on her pretty blue and green gown. "This young man rescued me. Isn't that right?" she asked evenly, looking at Marcus, a conspiratorial glimmer in her green eyes.

The little boy's eyes were wide as he slowly caught on, his head nodding in time with his thoughts. He blinked. "Yes, pulled the pig off," he agreed.

She nodded once then looked back up at the gruff man, a smile at their shared secret. There was an expression of doubt, then uncertainty, then indifference on the man's face, before he spoke. "At any rate, I need to see to—" but stopped speaking when he realized the old woman was gone, giving a sigh and accompanying shrug. "Marcus, take that pig out back," he instructed with a wave of his hand.

Aurelia and the boy shared one last look, his smile grateful. Her eyes slid back to the butcher who was picking up the slab of meat he had thrown down. "She wasn't interested?" Aurelia asked, her curiosity becoming too great to contain. She instantly regretted speaking, feeling her cheeks pinken. She was turning to leave when he answered.

"Probably couldn't afford it. Well, and it's not that great of a piece. Too grisly for her, I'd suspect." He gave a great heaving grunt as he lifted it up and snagged it back on the hook. When he turned around, Aurelia was gone.

Aurelia was running through the rain back down the twisty, winding little streets to her home when she wondered why she was running at all. By that time, she couldn't possibly get any wetter, her dress was already ruined from the skirmish with the hog, and with her hair gone...her chest did that aching thing as her feet slowed. She closed her eyes as she walked, breathing deeply to keep the panic away, the panic that had become familiar, not just since he had lobbed off her hair, but that she had felt ever since she first realized that she wouldn't inherit the throne. That no matter what she did, she would never be good enough.

And then she remembered how it had felt in his arms last night, as he held her crying despite his earlier admonition. And in his arms, she was comforted by the fact he hadn't abandoned her. His staying felt like loyalty and trust and approval in a way she had never before experienced. Even after he took her beauty, she was still worthy of those things from him.

And just a little, just enough, the panic faded, her chest loosening, her mind clearing.

"That you dear?" an old and familiar voice cut through the rain and caught her off guard. Blinking, she turned to see the old crone of a neighbor looking out her window. Aurelia looked back down the narrow street, seeing her own home but three doors down. "What are you doing out there? Come in, come in out of the rain before you catch your death," she invited with so much energy Aurelia couldn't think of a refusal quickly enough.

"Ah, thank you, Hilma," she murmured as she walked into the little home, smaller than her own, if that were even possible.

"Bless the stars, you are soaked clean through. You'll catch your death!" she chided again. She had a grandmotherly tone Aurelia had never had directed at her, and so despite her cold and discomfort from the wet clothing, the haven of her own home but a few doors away, she allowed herself to be bustled over to the warmth of the fire. "What were you doing out there?" Hilma asked with a reproachful tone as she brought over a drying towel.

Hilma reached up to snatch the soaked scarf off her head, and when she gasped in surprise, Aurelia quickly took the little towel and began blotting her hair. "Your hair—" She paced slowly away, the old crone following with wide, unbelieving eyes. "Whatever happened, my dear?"

Aurelia sighed. "We sold it," she replied evenly, not wanting to allow in any emotion tied to the traumatic event. She realized she said 'we', instead of accusing Maks, and wondered why she spoke to protect him.

"You did? Whatever for? Are things truly as bad as all that?"

Aurelia shrugged uncomfortably, still keeping her back to the old woman. When she didn't answer, the old woman softened in her curiosity. "Ah well, I suppose things are harder than I thought," she said, turning her attention to the kettle of water over the fire. She poured it into one cup and then sprinkled some dry leaves into another cup and poured water into it as well. "Sit, my dear," she instructed softly. "Let me give you some of this, it'll keep the chill out of your bones," she advised, handing Aurelia a steaming cup.

The princess lifted it to her nose and blinked in surprise at the sweet aroma. She had anticipated a bitter, gramineous flavor, but was relieved it was mild and floral instead. "So things are really that bad here? I thought Meerkerk was supposed to be prosperous, thanks to that king of yours," she asked with her disdain barely hidden.

"Oh, and we are, my dear. Most of the young folks are doing quite well in their occupation, what with the new trade routes he has opened up. And the wealth finds a way to trickle down to us who have no way of earning a coin. But for that, means are not always...sufficient," she answered peering down into her mug.

There was a moment of awkward pause as Aurelia, who had not quite yet felt as if she were poor just like Hilma. All this time, she realized, she had still felt like a princess who was only temporarily living like a peasant, but who could at a snap of her fingers be restored to her former riches. Was this old widow her future?

"I saw a woman at the butchers. Old and terribly crooked back. Awful walking," Aurelia murmured.

"Oh, that must have been Grazie, poor dear," Hilma said clucking her tongue. "She's ninety-four, if you can believe it, and all alone in this world, her husband long dead, and her only son dead in the king's service. However did she manage to carry home her purchases?"

"Oh, she didn't buy anything. I think the butcher said she either couldn't afford it or the cut of meat was too poor quality for her, or something." Aurelia shook her head. "I'm not sure."

Hilma sighed and inclined her head. "That sounds 'bout right. I know I'm not able to bring home meat every time." She snorted inelegantly. She harrumphed before clarifying. "More like only every third or fourth time, if I be telling the truth."

"And why is that?"

Hilma made a gesture with her head before groaning to stand up. As she went for a large log for the fire, Aurelia stood. "Here, let me do that," she offered, clumsily taking the wood and dropping it onto the fire. The angle wasn't quite right, she could see, knowing it wouldn't burn properly in the position it had landed, and for nearly two minutes she agitated it, poking it, lifting it with the scrap metal that served as a poker, until it lay at an angle she hoped was good enough.

"Thank you, my dear." Sitting back down she sighed. "If one wants only a little—all that I could eat—the butcher will give you the poorer of the cuts, not wanting to take from a piece that could bring more money. But then the expense is too great for that better piece, not to mention it is too large for me to eat it all myself before it goes to rot," she explained, her tone disappointed.

"I see." Aurelia's somber thoughts didn't last long as she had a violent shiver shake her frame. She made a burr sound before standing back up and inching closer to the fire.

"Oh, goodness me, but you are still soaked, aren't you, dear?" Hilma sat her mug down once more and stood to rub her fat, ugly hands up and down Aurelia's arms. When she felt the tiny tremors from the cold, Hilma insisted Aurelia go home at once and put on some dry clothes, apologizing for ever having stopped her to begin with. As Aurelia said her thanks and goodbye, she slipped out the door and dashed across the street, artfully dodging the waterfalls where the rain sluiced off the roofs.

When she opened her front door, she was aghast to see water drip-drip-dripping onto the floor near one corner. She managed to salvage the gowns she had stored there, taking the time after they were all laid on the bed to dry and change into one. She then set about to catch the falling water and then cleaned up her little home, which had started to look less than royal.

She was just finishing when Maks came in carrying a sack. They shared a look, but neither commented on the things of the previous evening. Aurelia watched him set the sack down then turned back around to her chore of refolding the last of her gowns. But the room was silent and its lack of sound caused her to him once more. He was staring at her, an expression she couldn't exactly name.

"I think," he began slowly, "that before I leave and when I come home, I would like a kiss from my wife."

Aurelia gave a sudden sharp laugh that bubbled up from the unexpectedness of the statement. "Oh, really?" she said, her lips settling into a smile. She decided to tease him. "We often wish for things that we cannot have." She attempted a serious expression, but she couldn't stop the smile from creeping up on the corner of her lip, tightening it until giggles escaped past her lips. She looked away, the silliness of the mood suddenly embarrassing her.

Maks was quiet as he approached, suddenly standing as though his arms should be around her, though he kept from touching her altogether. When Aurelia slowly turned to face him, she felt herself lean into him, expectant for the heat of his body, the strength of his hug. Her face tilted up as her eyes closed. A slight intake of breath, lips lush and parted. His strong, warm fingers on the cool skin of her face angling her to him, holding her in place.

His lips were molded to hers, just a quick kiss, but the swipe of his tongue over her bottom lip was too much to resist, and Aurelia turned to him fully, her arms instantly sliding around his neck. Maks' own hands finally found their way to her back and tightly pressed her to him. When they finally parted, their breaths mingled harshly.

Maks petted back her still-damp hair, his eyes roving over her face. "Oh, little bud, I think with you I am going to have everything I wish for."

Aurelia's breath was shaky, but at his arrogant statement she couldn't help but give a rueful chuckle. She turned away, knowing she should be incensed, but his kiss had affected her, she realized, and she just couldn't muster any emotion besides...She frowned. The kiss hadn't served to arouse her, not sexually, but it had felt nice, a connection, a warmth. He had held her and not abandoned her, and his kiss reminded her just how that had felt.

"Think what you will," she murmured, her face warming as she placed the last of her gowns away. Maks showed her the food he had brought, large quantities of grain, some root vegetable, and fish. There were two of the large, pink fish that he explained were very common in summer in the river just to the north as they swam upstream from the sea. Though she already knew this, she chose to say nothing. He went on to explain that the pink flesh was delicate and they could eat some tonight for dinner, but that he wanted to teach her the traditional way to preserve it. It wasn't too complicated, he declared, just lengthy. And as they went about preparing the fish the two different ways, the grain was set over the fire in a broth to cook away.