Page 16 of The Darkest Oath

“He gives me three baguettes from the night before and shares his stew with me in the evenings if I did what he told me to do.” She shrugged as they continued walking to her next stop.

“This Gabin withholds food from you as punishment?” Rollant shook his head, and the injustice tightened his shoulders.

“Of course.”

“This is common, then?”

“My father did and my aunt did too. I assume I never knew any difference.” She peered up at him. “How would you punish someone who disobeyed?”

“It would depend on what they did, I suppose. But even prisoners are fed,” he said as a man bumped into his shoulder, running past them.

“Well, then, maybe I am Gabin’s prisoner. You know I can never leave him. And I hope you aren’t staying for a chance to . . .” She sighed. “I cannot leave him. He will hunt me down. I am his, and everyone knows it.” Her voice lowered, and he could barely hear her over the bustling streets. Their moment of calm and peace had been overrun by reality.

They walked in silence until she said, “You can leave if that was your goal.”

Rollant said nothing for a while. He didn’t know what his goal was with Élise. He just wanted to know her. He was attracted to her. He hated this life for her. But their relationship could never be more than a modest friendship. He looked off at the merchants lining the street. He could leave; she told him to, in fact.

But again, he couldn’t. He would help her through life as much as he could, which wouldn’t be much. He had to return to the king soon, but he could still leave a friend behind in case he needed one later and give her an opportunity for a new life should she ever find herself able to leave Gabin.

He changed the subject and said, “If you could have anything to eat, what would it be?”

“What?” she asked with a chuckle. “I half expected you to continue down the street without another word.”

He shrugged as a child ran past him, making him walk closer to Élise. He brushed her arm with his as he moved her out of an unfocused man’s heavy gait down the street. “I need a friend or a familiar face in these parts,” he said close to her ear. He pushed the desire to move the loose strands behind her headscarf out of mind. “Would that suffice as a reason to stay in your company?” he asked as the two moved back to a respectable distance.

“I suppose,” she said, glancing at a woman who stared at her and Rollant. She turned her attention back to Rollant. “To answer your question: If I could have anything to eat, it would be a meal shared with a big family next to a warm hearth. We would all eat a roasted chicken, seasoned and cooked to perfection, fresh vegetables with a butter sauce, warm, fresh bread with an assortment of fancy cheeses . . . ” She laughed. “My mouth is watering already.”

“Maybe add a pastry or two,” Rollant leaned in with a smile.

“Yes, and maybe a tart. Oh, and chocolate. That would be a luxurious meal fit for someone . . . who is not me.” She wiped her mouth and wet her dry lips with her tongue. “Why would you ask me such a question, Rollant? Make me wonder what a different life would be like yet again.”

“Again?” he asked.

A sheepish grin grew on her mouth. Her cheeks flushed red like wine spots. “Oh, I . . . It’s nothing,” she said and diverted from their path. “I will be right back,” she said and hurried up to a door, handing a piece of her bread to the patron who answered her knock.

She dodged a horde and made it back to Rollant’s side. “I have one more stop, and it was part of why I asked your assistance,” she said. “This family is very ill. The father died, and the mother is sick and cannot work for food. The children work to pay the rent, but they have a horrible cough. They always need something done around their home, and I am so tired after I visit with them. I hope I have not misled you.”

He smiled and thought it odd Gabin wasn’t there to help her, or maybe not odd at all.

“You have not,” he said. “As you told me, I am well-nourished and can lend my skills.”

Her sheepish grin returned. “I appreciate your help, Monsieur, and I am amazed at your memory.” She nodded to a side street situated next to a carpenter’s store. “It is this way.”

They walked side by side until the street narrowed, and she took the lead. The air was stale, and the spring breeze did not reach the corridor. They finally came to a small apartment complex, and Élise entered. The shared bathroom’s pungent aroma filled the hallway. She went to a door down the hall and opened it.

“Greetings, Madame Marie,” she whispered.

“In here,” a woman rasped. Élise pulled a full baguette and a pouch from her bundle and placed them on the small table in the single-room apartment.

“Who’s this?“ Marie, curled up in bed, said and pointed a weak finger at Rollant.

“This is a new friend. I’ve asked him to help me with the chores you need.”

“He’ll come back and rob me or kill me or take my children. Why did you bring him here? Now he knows where I live? You’ve doomed us all.”

Élise adjusted the woman’s thin pillow and sat her up to allow her to drink some water. “I would never do such a thing if I did not think him a good man.”

“Hmm. If you find me murdered, then my blood will be on your hands,” Marie said with a cough.

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