"Who?" I whispered, fear and awe having stolen the volume from my voice.
"Free us," it continued as if it didn't hear me. The trunk tilted forward again as the mouth closed and the nose sank back into the bark, leaving only the slitted eyes until they too winked out of existence.
Looking around at the woods, I waited for more, but nothing else happened for several long minutes. Shivering, I climbed out of the water and walked back toward the wall. This time, I took the turnips, every one of them.
From the traps, I managed to gather two rabbits, which pleased me until I wondered how to skin them without dirtying my dress. After my dunking, it was clean once again. While I contemplated my dilemma, I continued home, glad to see a faint glow in the kitchen window. Bryn willingly surrendered her apron, only raising a brow at my damp state, and I set to work, eager to eat rabbit for breakfast.
Father stepped from his study as I handed over the dressed game to Bryn along with her now dirty apron.
"Father, do you know of the estate's history?" I asked, ignoring Bryn's peevish glance.
He shook his head.
"Only what we know from the villagers, that the beast guards the estate for the Liege Lord to prevent theft and whatnot," he said absently, looking in our food storage for something to eat.
He was right. The information he knew was nothing I hadn't already heard. When we'd moved here, I'd been young enough that I hadn't cared about the beast or the estate beyond the need to stay away from them. However, since both the estate and the beast seemed to have taken an interest in me, I needed to learn more.
"I'll bring some of the rabbit to the school when it's ready if you'd like," I said to him.
He nodded his thanks and left as I moved closer to the stove to dry and enjoy the scent of cooking meat. Bryn left to milk the goat and check for an egg from our single hen. In the warm silence, I contemplated which of the villagers might know more regarding either the estate or the beast. Miss Medunge, the baker's sister, loved gossiping and probably knew everything about everyone, but I didn't want to chance meeting up with the baker. The butcher hadn't lived here as long as we had, and the seamstress didn't have any interest in anything other than her cloth and customers. The Coalres were out of the question for obvious reasons. That left the candle maker.
* * * *
After taking a covered plate to Father, I cautiously hurried to the candle maker. I'd yet to face Tennen or Splane after their last attempt to have the beast kill me and wanted to keep it that way.
The candle maker's bell above the door rang as I let myself in after a brief knock. He looked up from his work with a smile.
"I hadn't thought to see you so soon," he said. "But I'm glad you're here, nonetheless. I have something for you." He stood with a grunt and shuffled to a low shelf near the back of the room. Lying on the rough board, a blunt silver glimmered in the daylight. He plucked it from the wood between two time-twisted fingers and shuffled toward me, wearing an excited grin.
"Timmy couldn't believe the primrose candle," he said, handing me the coin, which I took reluctantly. "If you find more flowers, bring them to me and there will be more silver for you," he promised.
I fisted the silver but didn't turn to go.
"I was wondering if you could tell me a little about the history of the estate. Or perhaps, something of the beast."
"It would brighten the rest of my morning to spend it telling you stories from my youth. But, come, sit. I can't forget my work while we talk."
He nudged another chair close to his worktable, and I willingly sat with him. The candle maker's cottage was always pleasantly warm. He checked his strings and started his tale.
"I was about your age when the Liege Lord disappeared, but I remember the years before that well enough to be glad of his absence. He was a man far too concerned with his own pleasures than that of the people who looked to him for protection and justice. Justice," the candle maker scoffed. "Back then it was a mockery. The Head at the Water used the position to swindle the businesses and bully the people he didn't like. The Liege Lord did nothing. He couldn't. He was too busy strutting from bed to bed, not caring what women occupied it with him."
I kept quiet, afraid he'd recall his audience and stop his open retelling.
"I shouldn't say that," he said. "He did care. Only the pretty ones. Young. Old. Single. Married. He made no distinction." He snorted disgustedly. "I'm ahead of myself. The estate has been there over three hundred years and has passed from father to son. While the last Liege Lord's father had lived, things were peaceful and prosperous. After his father died, the Liege Lord started his whoring. His mother, too ashamed of her son, retired to the South and died there not long after. The young Lord just sank deeper into his depravity. Things were getting to the point where I was thinking of heading south, too-the southern liege lords are good to their tenants-but then he disappeared. He just stopped going to the villages. Stopped his whoring. The Head went to the estate but found it empty. He thought to make himself a little coin and take a few things, and that was the first time the beast made himself known. Oh, that Head ran down the road, here, screaming something fierce. Took several men to hold him down and pour ale down his throat before he calmed enough to tell what happened. ‘Course no one believed him, and a group went to the estate to see for themselves."
He cackled at the memory.
"That's when the legend of the beast really started. The Head went back to the Water, but soon came with all sorts of people interested in trying to kill the beast to get to the Liege Lord's treasure. But that beast protected it something fierce. Many men died trying to get past the gate. As time passed and the flow of would-be pillagers slowed, some folks managed to get in the gate, but never very far. I think the beast knew they were just curious for the most part and didn't harm them. But those that return for a second visit, well, he doesn't treat them as well."
"What about the Liege Lord? Where did he go?"
"Some say he went south to mourn his mother, but fifty years is a long time to mourn. No, I think he's at the estate," he said softly. "I think he never left. That beast keeps him as cornered in the estate as he does keeping folks out. I just can't figure out why."
I thanked him for his time, and at the last moment, remembering the coin curled in my fist, thanked him for that as well. He certainly had given me plenty to think on.
Leaving the candle maker, I collided with Sara, the smith's wife. I didn't pay her as much attention as I did Splane, who trailed behind her. He glared at me as I smoothed my skirt with both hands while absently apologizing to Sara. The feel of fabric against the sweaty palm that used to hold a coin froze me in place. I'd dropped it.
"Excuse me, Benella," Sara said stiffly, a deep hue of crimson flooding her face.
Did she too know what I'd witnessed? I felt horrible.
A glint in the dust at our feet caught my eyes. I looked down at it, making my notice obvious.
"I think you dropped something."
Sara's eyes followed mine and rounded. She didn't hesitate, but snatched up the blunt silver.
"We don't need your charity," Splane said mulishly.
His mother's fingers curled tightly around the coin. Easy words for him when he didn't need to spread his legs for the baker.
"Charity?" I asked, feigning puzzlement. "How would I come by a blunt silver?" I let the doubt in my voice speak for itself.
"Don't be ridiculous, Splane," his mother scolded. She didn't look at me or thank me, simply changed directions and went to the baker, through the front door. Splane hurried to follow her.
I hoped that would help end some of the animosity they had toward me. Walking back to the cottage, I pondered the candle maker's tale, unsure who in that story I needed to free or teach. Part of me was inclined to believe it was the Liege Lord trapped in the estate like the candle maker suggested, but why would I want to free such a bane? Perhaps that's what he needed to be taught...proper behavior.
As I neared the cottage, the goat bleated pathetically in the back, so I walked around to investigate. There, within sight of the open doors, Tennen had Bryn pinned to a mound of fresh hay. Her skirts were hiked up to her waist and her legs wrapped around Tennen's rapidly pumping, naked backside. Neither noticed me.