2.1. Troubles
“Mother, when!” Diana asked. It was her eleventh birthday
and she'd not had a proper party in at least, well, at least a year.
“Soon dear, patience,” her mother said.
Patience was not one of Diana strengths and she meandered
through their farm house in her party dress. Dawdling about her mother's
bedroom, she inspected the dressing table and the jewelry box with ivory inlay
that always fascinated her. Mother told her the inlay was carved from dragon
tooth, and father wove fantastic stories of dragons and the brave heroes who
rode them and their palaces of carved stone and wood in the high mountains to
the southeast. They were only stories of virtue and adventure for little girls,
but she still wished they were true. She held the box in the sun to see the
opalescent sparkle and smiled, then put it gently back in its place.
Wandering outside, Diana walked the small trail to the coral
and pasture in the Amboise hills, still green from the late spring rains. She snuck
into a tent erected for visiting stockmen, found the farm manager, Ted, and sat
next to him. He faced six men: three appeared to be farmers from Limint to the
north with rough hands and open-faces, three others were perhaps from Cherryth
in the east with dark skin and short stature who surveyed her with narrow eyes.
“For my son and his new wife,” said a ruddy faced man from
Limint. “We need a flock to keep them away from the town.” The others smiled
“And the groom away from the tavern wenches, I’ll wager,”
his companion added and they laughed.
Ted cleared his throat. “There’s a lady present, gentlemen,”
he said. The men turned in surprise to see young Diana in her party dress while
the dark men scanned her without turning their heads.
“Why, thank you, sir. No one has ever called me a gent
before,” a man from Limint said with a big smile which raised more laughter. He
dipped his head toward Diana. “Beggin’ your pardon mam, no offense intended,”
he said. Diana nodded though she did not know what he apologized for. The men
turned back to their conversation.
“Ah, then. How long will it take,” the first man asked. “How
long before the heard will be self-sustaining?”
“Four years,” another said. “It will take four years for the
herd to support your son and his new wife.”
“Two,” Diana said idly. The men ignored her with indulgent
smiles and the dark men scanned her again.
“Four years,” the man repeated loudly to the group without
looking at Diana. “Three litters in four years, two per litter.” The other men
nodded their heads in agreement.
“Two years,” Diana said just as
loudly. “You start with one male and two females. Two years and you will have
four extra rams and one sheet of wool to trade. The rams are food except for
the alpha. You'll start with one acre...” The men interrupted her and began to
argue loudly, some seeming to agree, others to disagree.
The first man laughed at her, unable to ignore her . “Keep
to your needle point, little girl. This is man's work.” he said.
Diana flushed with anger and stomped her foot, but the men
ignored her and returned to their discussion. Ted was quiet but smiled at
Diana's pique. Infuriated, she walked to the side of the tent and opened the
tent flap with a view of her large flock of healthy sheep. She whistled for her
dogs which immediately came to sit at her side. The men turned at the whistle,
rose, and went to admire the sheep.
Richard de Cherbourne, Diana's father, entered the tent and
the visitors immediately complimented him for the flock, but he waved his hands
to quiet them.
“Please sirs, if your interest is sheep, the owner stands
there,” Richard said and pointed to Diana who still stood at the open tent
flap. “But I must steal her away for a while first.” He walked over to Diana.
“Hon, it's time for your party,” he said and leaned over to pick her up to
carry her to the house.
Before they left the tent, Diana looked over Richard's
shoulder to the astonished stockmen and, avoiding the temptation to stick out
her tongue at them, said, “Ted can negotiate the terms of sale...”
But the dark men did not reply.
Outside the tent, Richard spoke to Diana. “I need to ride
east, hon, and will miss your party,” he said and handed her a long package
wrapped with colorful parchment and ribbon. “Happy Birthday.”
Before the wrapping paper hit the ground her gift was
exposed, a small version of the bow and arrows her father’s archers bore,
though without fancy decoration or colorful string or fletching.
“It's not a toy, girl,” he said, “just a start. We can
practice when I return.”
It was perfect. “Oh, thank you, papa!” She hugged him hard
and kissed him on the cheek and forehead.
“Lass, I must go now,” he said. “Let's hurry, or you'll miss
your party.” Richard walked her to their house, kissed her and rode away.
Diana could hear the children gathered for her party and
took a step to join them, but the bow fascinated her and she went back outside
to the coral to test it. Standing three yards from a post, which she thought to
be a suitably large target, she nocked an arrow and raised the bow. The
bowstring was stiff and thin and hurt her fingers. Her shoulders were not
strong enough to pull it to her chin, so that when she released the arrow it
fell to the ground only a few feet in front of her. Papa was right, this is
no toy, she thought. After failing a second attempt as well, she
stared at the bow with a frown.
She pursed her lips and glared at the bow. “We are not done,
you and I,” she said looking at the bow, and walked to her bedroom. She put the
bow and quiver in the middle of her bed where her guests would not find them
and left for her party.
...to be continued ...
(c) 2015 B. R. Strong, Jr.
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