Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

Cezar gave a small, knowing smile. That irritated me even more than his ill-advised gesture of comfort. I reminded myself that he had lost his father only a month ago, that he must still be grieving. If his behavior seemed a little out of place, that was probably why.

“It’s kind of you to pay us a visit,” I said, trying to act as Aunt Bogdana might expect under the circumstances. “I’m hoping your mother may be able to receive visitors in return—”

A tap at the door—Paula again. “I can’t find Tati anywhere,” she said. “And there’s a man at the door, his clothes are all ragged, and he says he has no work, no food, and no money, and his wife and children are starving. Florica said to ask you if we can give him something.”

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“Some food, of course,” I said, getting up and going to the shelf where our store of silver and copper coin for household expenses was kept in a locked box. There had been a steady stream of travelers to the door of Piscul Dracului since the start of winter, and it did not seem right to send them off without a coin or two in their pockets. The pinched features and tattered garb of these wayfarers worried me. For every man we saw, there would likely be a woman and a gaggle of children out in the woods, trying to survive on what they could get from one landowner’s door to the next. I wondered how many died between one grand house and another. The fields were thick with snow.

“You are overgenerous,” Cezar commented, eyeing the iron-bound box as I placed it on the table and turned the key.

“A package of food, a kind word—even that is more than many of these folk deserve. They are wanderers because they don’t know the meaning of hard work, because they have squandered their opportunities. You shouldn’t waste your money— What is it, Jena? What’s wrong?”

I was gaping into the box. Last time I had opened it, to make a small payment to Ivan, it had been three-quarters full, copper well balanced with silver. Now the contents barely covered the bottom, and there were only five silver pieces left.

Almost overnight, our winter funds had disappeared.

“Jena?”

I suppose I had gone pale. I sat down slowly, gripping the table for support, my mind desperately seeking explanations.

A mistake, some kind of mistake . . . Someone had moved the money. . . . Someone had put the household coins in the business 94

coffer in error. . . . No, I had checked the business funds myself only this morning.

“Jena, what is it?” Cezar leaned closer, frowning.

“Nothing,” I said, shutting the box with a snap. “Paula, go and tell Florica to give the man food, and to let him warm himself by the stove before he moves on.” My hands were shaking—

I clasped them together in my lap as she left. How could this have happened? The only people who knew where the key was kept were Father, my sisters, and me. We all knew this money must be conserved carefully to last all winter and perhaps beyond. How could I pay anyone to come and help Petru? How could I make a family offering at church? How could I go on slipping Ivan a little extra, so that he would see our wares safely transported to Sibiu and beyond? He had come to rely on that, with his family ever expanding and his farm too small to sustain all of them.

“Are you missing some funds? You must tell me,” Cezar said.

“Your father expected me to look after you and Piscul Dracului.

It’s my right to know.”

Abruptly, I lost my temper. “It is not your right!” I retorted, fists clenched on the too-light box. “This place doesn’t belong to you, and nor do we! My father is still alive and he’s going to get better. Go home, Cezar. I don’t need your help. I’m coping perfectly well. I just need to . . . I just have to—” Then I dis-graced myself by starting to cry, because it had come to me that I would have to question every one of my sisters about the missing coins, and that each one would then believe I thought her capable of stealing. I sprang to my feet, turning my back on Cezar, every part of me willing him to go away. Instead, I 95

heard the sound of my cousin opening the coffer, then his whistling intake of breath.

“This is all you have left?” The coins clinked as he lifted them and dropped them back into the box. “This will barely last you a month, Jena, and that’s only if nothing untoward occurs. You’d best let me handle your domestic expenses from now on. It’s clear you have no idea how to manage them.”

“That’s not true!” I dashed away the tears and turned to face him. “I haven’t mismanaged them. I do possess some intelligence, whatever you may think. The money’s disappeared in the last few days, and I don’t know who’s taken it. I had plenty. I was being careful.”

“Here.” He handed me a silk handkerchief; he was the kind of man who always seemed to have one ready. “Who looks after the key, Jena?”

“Never mind that,” I said, blowing my nose. “It was safe.

At least, I thought so. I’ll deal with this, Cezar. I’ll manage somehow.”

He gave me a direct look. “You’d best start by curbing your generosity to vagrants,” he said. “I want to help you. Let us not argue over this. Let me take care of this box, and the one you use for the business. We can’t have that going mysteriously missing, can we? I seem to recall that Uncle keeps it in here—”

I watched, frozen, as my cousin opened what I had believed to be a secret cupboard and helped himself to the much weight-ier strongbox that held Father’s trading funds. Of course he would know where it was—I hadn’t been thinking. He had visited many times with Uncle Nicolae.

“There’s no need for you to do that,” I said, my voice trem-96

bling with rage and mortification. “I can cope perfectly well.

It’s just a temporary setback.”

“Trust me, Jena,” Cezar said. “I have your best interests at heart. I will ensure you have a little for your expenses, week by week, and if anything untoward occurs, you may come to me for whatever additional funds you require. That way I will be in a position to approve each item of expenditure as it arises. It’s only common sense. You are a sensible girl, most of the time.”

Arrogant swine.

“This isn’t fair!” I snapped, realizing with horror that from Cezar’s point of view, his action was perfectly logical. “You can’t just take over our funds and expect to decide what we can and can’t spend money on. I’m a grown woman, I can deal with this!”

“Let me help you, Jena,” Cezar said mildly. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I want to look after you.” He slipped the ring holding both keys into his pocket, then took up one box under each arm. I could see in his eyes that no argument I could muster was going to make any difference to him. He was a big man, tall and strong; there was no point in trying to take the coffers away from him.

“If we’re friends,” I said, recognizing that I was frightened,

“then you’ll stop bullying me and let me handle my own affairs.

Yes, there’s a problem, but—”

“Hush, Jena.” He sounded as if he were calming an over-excited dog. “I’m only too happy to be able to spare you this duty. You’ll be provided for, I won’t neglect that. Trust me.”

If a man has to say trust me, Gogu conveyed, it’s a sure sign you cannot. Trust him, that is. Trust is a thing you know without words.

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“I don’t think you understand,” I said, bitterly regretting that I had lost my temper; no doubt Cezar saw that as yet another indication of my unreliability. “Trust goes two ways. I know I owe you a debt from long ago, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy to hand over a responsibility that should be mine. I’m not stupid. You know me, and you should know that.”