Euphemistically Yours

By the time we arrived home, we were both famished. The meeting with the Seneschal had been at fourth bell, then the search for sand, then another meeting with the scholar. After walking back to my holdings, it was well past noon. I could hear Eu’s stomach growling. It was almost as loud as her whining. “Sweet cake! Apple! Plum! Fig!”

“Just be patient, we’re almost there!”

My reassurances only earned me a glare, “Deft is not patient!”

“What do you mean I’m not patient? I’m not the one whimpering!”

“Hmph! For now!”

“Was ... that a … threat?”

I suppose she felt like she’d won the argument, or whatever that was. She shook her head and sighed as if I were the annoying child and she was done quarreling with me.

Grit was waiting and watching for us on the front path. In fact, he was armored in his gambeson, leather jack, and helmet, with his sword belted on at his waist. It seemed excessive, but given Master Fit’s warnings, I was grateful that he was being prudent.

“Any news?” I called out once we were in speaking range.

“No, Father. All is well.”

“Then why the armor and sword?”

“Uhh… mother suggested that I practice wearing it.”

“Oh, I see. That’s good advice!” Constance was thinking ahead. If there was trouble brewing, then we’d need to focus on Grit’s training. How better to train than actually doing useful work at the same time?

“Father, have you already eaten?”

“No, the food in town … your mother would not be pleased.”

Eu decided to add her own comment, “I am patient.”

“Are you now? Since when?” I objected.

“Deft is whimpering,” she replied, looking toward Grit for confirmation.

Grit instead gave me a smile. “There’s food from lunch left on the table.”

At the mention of food, Eu took off, moving as fast as she could in her fine town clothing.

“Ladylike! Don’t get your clothes dirty!” I yelled after her, but she didn’t even respond.

“Does she even know those words?” Grit complained.

“Probably some of them. But, it doesn’t matter if she’s not listening.”

He chuckled along with me, “True! Anyhow, I’ll keep watch. You go ahead and eat.”

I nodded my thanks and proceeded at a normal walking pace into the house.

Constance and my daughters were in the main hall, practicing their sewing skills. On the other hand, although it could be called practice, the tasks of mending and repairing clothing was essential to the whole household. Even more reason not to run in a nice dress. Someday, that same dress, too small now for Progress, would pass from Eu down to Swift. We didn’t have the coin for frivolous purchases.

“Husband, it is good to see you again.”

“Indeed, wife. I am glad to be home. Today has … not been pleasant.”

“Speaking of unpleasantness, Eu tore through here like a wild boar.” Constance did not seem surprised, but it was also clear that she wasn’t blaming me.

“Eu was hungry. Even so, I’m sure she could have waited.”

“The wild beast thinks only of its stomach.” Progress quoted the scriptures. I was impressed by her memory and apt use of an appropriate proverb. Even so, I pursed my lips at her unforgiving attitude. She knew that snide outlook wouldn’t earn her any points. In fact, now, she wouldn’t even look me in the eye.

“We’ll talk more about that later. I have news from town - both from the Seneschal and from the scholar that I visited. We should discuss it all as a family over dinner later.”

“Yes, Father.” Both the girls responded perfectly. Constance gave me an approving nod.

Before eating, I changed out of my expensive clothing. There was no sense in risking the fine cloth against a potential spill. I didn’t wear this outfit often, but I wouldn’t be getting any bigger, so I hoped it would last me until it went with me to the grave.

By the time I arrived at the dining room, Eu had finished all of her favorites. In fact, she had organized all of our available food onto the table into a queue going from left to right. Fruits and berries were on the left, bread in the middle, and vegetables on the right. Unfortunately, all that remained of the leftmost side of the line were the grease and bones of meat that she had already devoured.

“I see that you are, by preference, a carnivore.” I pointed to the slimy spots left on her plate.

“Not hungry … for now.”

“I should hope not! How much did you eat?”

Her answer was a small burp followed by a smile. “Deft is whimpering?”

I sat down at the table and grabbed some bread. “Eu, we need to talk.”

“Talk? You talk, I listen.”

“Yes, yes, fine. You do that. First off, how often did you eat meat when you were staying with Diligence at Lakesedge?”

“Diligence? No meat. Only eggs. Chicken eggs.”

“How often did you get eggs?”

“One egg every three days. Other eggs go to town.” Eu looked displeased by that fact.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Diligence gets coins for eggs.”

I nodded along, “Eggs are relatively expensive. That means they cost a lot of coins.”

“Mmm…” Eu watched the ceiling as if she wasn’t paying attention.

“In fact, if you look at this line of food that you made, you’ve sorted it in order by cost, haven’t you?” I pointed at the bones, then the fruit, then the bread, then the vegetables. The only thing cheaper would be raw ingredients or unmilled grains.

“Too many coins?” She asked with a smirk.

I sighed, “We can afford it. Most of this is raised on my own lands. But, it’s not fair when you eat only the best.”

At this, she caught my gaze and stared into my eyes, “You sell me? How many coins am I?”

“I’m not going to sell you! That’s immoral!” The surprise on my face must have registered, because she retreated immediately.

“Diligence sold me to you.”

“No she didn’t!”

“You gave her coins and a uhh… finger-coin to her son!”

“You mean a ring. I gave her son a ring for his finger.”

“A ring!” She pointed her accusation at me.

“All of that was as thanks for keeping you safe! You can’t sell people! We aren’t savages!”

At this, she tilted her head in thought. "Why did you buy me? For Grit?"

"What?"

"You buy me to be Grit's wife?"

"NO!" There were so many things wrong with that. I didn't even know where to start.

She paused for a long time before her next question, “I am your daughter … for now. You sell your daughters to that man? Brawn? He has sons.”

Where was she getting these predictions? I couldn’t even imagine what kind of awful culture she must come from. Were women considered property there? In fact, if anything, here, it was the opposite!

I shook my head in annoyance. There was no point in arguing. Whatever she'd learned growing up, it didn’t matter now! I had to give an answer, but I wasn’t sure how to explain it. “We don’t sell daughters. We give daughters money when they are married. Men keep land, women keep money!”

At this, she tilted her head, “If I am your daughter, you give me money if I marry?”

“Uhh… yes? I guess so. It's called a dowry.” I didn’t need to mention that she wasn't the eldest daughter or that she would be considered illegitimate. Her dowry wouldn’t be large. All that would be left were the dregs.

I could tell that she was pondering over the implications, before reaching a conclusion, “I eat less meat, I get more money?”

“Not… directly. But, yes… I guess that’s true in a way.”

“Progress gets more money? Swift too?”

“Sort of… yes.”

She paused again to consider all the ramifications of that, “What if I do not marry?”

“What? Why? Of course you’ll marry!”

“Why?”

“Daughters need to marry! How will you have children if you don’t?”

At this she gave me a confused expression. “Why children? Why give my money to my daughters!?”

Clearly, we weren’t communicating well. Either that or our concepts just didn’t match.

Thinking over her questions, I decided to start at the conclusion, “Marriage is how you have a family. Without that, who will protect you? If you are sick, who will care for you? If your house burns down, where will you go?”

"You will! Your house!"

I gave a snort. "Sure. But, if you get married, you'll still have me to fall back on, plus your husband, plus your husband's family, and then later, your own children. Strength and security comes from numbers."

She deflated, “money?”

“I don’t know what you mean now. What are you even asking?”

“Money! Less meat!” She scanned down her line of food, settling on the last piece of bread, which she snagged with one hand.

“Already hungry again? Why not that radish over there?” I pointed to the last object in her line-up of food preferences.

“Progress can eat radish.”

“I see … how magnanimous of you.”