Page 2 of Seducing the Sorcerer
Perhaps the farmer heard the note of desperation in his voice, because he paused, thinking. A good sign.
A much younger man in a tooled leather jerkin came up, put his hand on the farmer’s shoulder. “Uncle, I’ll handle this. You get off to town.” He turned to Fenn. “You’re a fine fellow. Strong as an ox, eh? I’ve a job for you.”
The lad’s voice was too loud, full of false bonhomie. He was playing to an audience. There was something bad here. All the same, Fenn nodded, warily. “Oh, aye?”
“What job?” the farmer asked flatly, not moving.
“Don’t you need a new cesspit?” said the younger. “He could get it started.”
“Ground’s too dry,” said the farmer. But he glanced at Fenn and back to his nephew and seemed to relent. “Aye, all right, then. Won’t hurt to make a start.”
“Payment?” said the young man.
“A meal,” said the farmer. “Water. If he works hard, two coppers. At the end of the day, mind.”
Fenn’s heart leapt. Because a meal and two coppers? That was more than generous.
“Thanks.” Fenn touched his forehead in salute.
The farmer nodded to him and went off towards the house. Was that a pump in the corner of the yard? Yes, it was. Fenn could almost smell the water.
“I’ve a better idea,” said the young man. “A meal, yes. But if you make a good job of this pit, instead of the coppers, I’ll give you a horse. How about that, eh?”
A horse?
Fenn’s heart convulsed in his chest; a sweet treacherous ache of hope and longing. But his heart was a fool.
“You having a laugh?” Fenn gave the lad a grim stare, hoping it’d knock the silliness out of him. “Aye, very funny.”
“No joke,” said the young man. “Warn you though; it’s a bit clapped out.”
There was a smothered guffaw from the group of young men. Master Leather Jerkin glanced at them and shook his head.
He said to Fenn, “Butcher in the village takes anything though.”
“I’ve had pies from yon butcher very like made from a horse like this one!” someone called. There were snorts of laughter and general agreement.
What was their game? Even a horse at death’s door would be worth five or six silvers to a butcher. Fenn stared at the young man in stony silence.
The young man stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I’m supposed to get rid of the old nag today, but I got business. With a lady. You take the horse, you’re doing me a favour, see?”
“Oh, aye?” Fenn said. “Let me see it then.”
“That ain’t convenient just now.” The young man glanced impatiently through the yard gate, as if he could see his sweetheart waiting. “It needs bringing and I got to be off. Take it or leave it. Quick now.”
Fenn opened his mouth to say “no deal” because expecting him to take a horse he hadn’t seen was plain barmy.
But, somehow, no words came.
Because, a horse! Even the chance of a horse. Against two coppers.
He couldn’t keep the creature, of course. But if he sold it to a butcher, five silvers would get him board and lodging for a month or more if he stayed off the sauce. And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance the young man intended to honour the deal. The fellow was well-dressed, his shirt rich with blue and red embroidery, his jerkin soft as moleskin. There was, too, a well-fed sleekness to his handsome regular features. Perhaps five silvers were nothing to him. Or maybe he was kinder than he seemed. Luck did come, now and again, in minor ways. Look at the friendly soldier last night, with his free meal and drinks and his “join us, mate”. That would have been luck if Fenn had not succumbed to the temptation to drink himself into oblivion at the end.
And just the chance at owning a horse. Even if it was only for a few hours. The very idea was making his fingers twitch with longing to handle the animal, to stroke its stringy old neck and give it a good long drink.
“All right, then. A meal and the horse,” Fenn agreed. “And that’s right generous and I thank you for it. But these men bear witness. And if I sell it, the money’s mine and all.”
“Yes, yes. As you say. And you promise to remove it from the property. So, it’s a deal?” The young man spat on his hand and held it out.
