Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

She turned away, set down her sewing, and removed the cloth that had covered the offerings laid out on the side table. “You must be hungry.” She waved a hand over the items on display, and he felt the saliva welling in his mouth as she continued. “This is cold venison in a wondrous crust made by Hector, and the salmon here, baked and skinned for your pleasure, was also cooked by Hector, without whom I should starve in squalor. But if neither of those please you, this dish holds roasted piglet, still hot, and there beside it, its skin, intact and succulent, coated with flour and salt and broiled to a crisp perfection that I heard Hector say would make a dead man drool.” She turned back the edges of a snowy white cloth that covered a trio of small clay serving vessels. “Cheese of our own making, sweet apples from our own trees, and fresh bread, crusty and warm from the oven. And to drink, we have the last of the shipment of wine delivered two years ago from Bordeaux, both the red and the gold.”

Will stood up, blinking, dazzled by the variety of the offerings and completely disarmed by her pleasure in his presence. He nodded slowly, then went towards the display, where she stood holding out a wooden platter for him to use.

“The pig is wonderful. I tasted some of the crackling when Hector brought it in and you were upstairs.” She was grinning, obviously greatly pleased with something, although he had no idea what it might be. He merely nodded and took the platter from her hand.

“Here. Let me cut some for you.” She rapped the brittle crust of crackling sharply with a heavy-bladed knife, shattering it into several pieces, and lifted two of them onto his platter, then cut a thick slab off the bread and loaded it with twin finger-thick slices of succulentlooking meat before chopping a bright red apple into eight segments and piling half of them beside the crackling. Still slightly overwhelmed, he waved aside her offer of anything else, then stood looking around him.

“Sit at the table there. It is set for two, with knives and spoons and salt. Which kind of wine would you prefer?”

He opted for the golden color, then moved to take a seat while she poured and brought wine to him in a magnificent stemmed glass goblet. She returned then to help herself to a wedge of the cold venison pie and another of the salmon, onto which she spooned a generous portion of clotted, creamy golden sauce that she told him was another of Hector’s secrets, made from eggs, cream, and herbs. She came and sat across from him at last and invoked a blessing on their meal before starting to eat with the appetite of a twelve-year-old boy. Watching her set about it, Will realized that he was ravenous, having eaten nothing all day other than the handful of dried oats and fruit with which he had broken his fast that morning. They ate in companionable silence, almost reverentially paying tribute to the excellence of Hector’s cooking, until both their platters were bare and their goblets empty.

When Will sat back and pushed away his platter she cocked her head, smiling at him again, and it was a measure of how much his trust in her, and in himself, had grown that he merely looked at her with mild curiosity, one eyebrow rising in a wordless query.

“It pleases me that you chose the green,” she said. “I was right, the color suits you well. And the clothes themselves might have been made for you.”

He felt his face flush, but it was with pleasure, and he managed to respond gracefully. “I am in your debt—” He caught himself before the words “my lady” could spill out, wondering what to substitute and finding himself still uneasy with using her given name. But then, before she could interject, the words came to him and he smiled with relief. “You have introduced me here, this night, to the world of ordinary, well-contented men who live their daily lives unfettered by the constant demands of duty and a rigid Rule of conduct.”

She dipped her head in a tiny gesture of acknowledgment. “Ordinary, well-contented men … I wonder if such creatures truly exist in this world of ours. Ordinariness is less ordinary than it may at first appear, and you yourself are far from ordinary … You have changed greatly, you know, since first we two met. A year ago, you would never have said such a thing, would never have thought of it. But to be truthful, I myself would not have believed, as recently as one month ago, that you and I could sit for so long together at ease like this. The grim Templar Sir William Sinclair would never have permitted it, lest he find pleasure in it.” She grinned suddenly, her eyes alight with mischief. “I am glad my friend Will came here today in his place. Will is far more … human … far less predictable and humorless.” Her grin faded as she sat straighter and glanced up at the windows high on the wall. “I have lost track of time, but I see blue sky up there, so the sun has not set, or if it has, the dusk is not yet full.” She rose to her feet. “Come, then. If you have had your fill of eating, walk with me to the byre to check the safety of our treasure chest, for I confess I have not thought of it since your arrival, even to verify that it was undisturbed by our visitors. I will have someone clear away the food while we are gone.”

“But not the wine.”

She glanced at him in surprise, caught by the hint of levity. “No, not the wine. That we will keep. I will have the fire rebuilt, too.”

THREE

They stood together in the gathering darkness of the byre, in front of the bundles of feed that covered the chest of gold coins, eyeing the undisturbed symmetry of the pile. Outside, in the gathering dusk, the returning cattle were clattering into the cobbled yard at the back of the cowshed. The mangers in the stalls on either side of where Will and Jessie stood were filled with fresh fodder for the coming night, but the hay on the shelf that held the treasure appeared untouched.

“Is it safe enough, think you, or should we unearth it to be sure?”

Will responded with the merest shake of his head, for his thoughts were elsewhere. He and Jessie had been seen by several people inside the house and on their way here, and although no one had seemed to take any special notice of them, the nagging notion had arisen in his mind that, in being seen abroad like this, they could be suspected of improper behavior. The thought of impropriety had stirred vague feelings in him of both disloyalty and dismay, since his hostess had given him no slightest cause for concern over propriety and it seemed to him the merest thought of such a thing was demeaning to both of them. He had tried to thrust it aside, but the harder he tried, the more stubbornly the notion held, so that now his mind was filled with wonderings about what Jessie’s people might be thinking of her, spending so much time alone and unattended in the company of a man who was not related to her.

“What are you thinking about there, sir knight, with such a glowering frown upon your face?”

He pulled himself together with an effort and waved off her question, muttering something unintelligible in reply as he stepped forward to lay his hands on the undisturbed pile of fodder, but as he did, he became aware of his clean green boots and the building within which they stood. The central channel had been swept out long since and its surface was dry underfoot, but he saw the looming bulk of approaching beasts beyond the low doorway, and at once his nostrils seemed filled with the acrid, pungent stink of liquid dung mixed with urine. An image flashed into his mind of what the floor of this place would look like moments after its occupants returned, and he backed away quickly, lifting each foot with exaggerated care. By the time he turned back to face Jessie, however, he had regained his voice.