“Yes, my lord,” John replied.
“I had your wife remove her garment. She is exquisitely made. Every Pleasure House in the City will want her. The bidding will be unprecedented. And I had my physician validate her virginity. I am pleased that she is fully intact. Her first-night rights will bring her owner a fortune.” He smiled. “And she is half faerie, if I understood your wife correctly?”
His temples were throbbing. They had stripped his daughter of her clothing to examine her? They had probed her innocence? He blinked back the bloodred in his eyes, swallowed hard and said, “Yes, my lord. Her mother was a faerie woman called Ilona. She was my first woman, and came to me on a Midsummer’s Eve.”
“A most powerful time,” Gaius Prospero remarked. “Now, John Swiftsword, are you willing to sell your daughter to me?”
This was the moment he had dreaded. Closing his eyes briefly, he nodded and said, “Aye, I will sell Lara to you, my lord.” He wanted to weep. He wanted to run from the room where he now stood before the great Master of the Merchants. But he did not. He opened his eyes, and looked directly at Gaius Prospero.
“Excellent! And a most wise decision on your part, John Swiftsword. I am pleased to see you are not restrained by any foolish sentiments for the girl. I shall have Jonah bring the papers for you to sign now. You do write, don’t you?”
“I both read and write,” the mercenary responded, “as does my daughter.”
The Master of the Merchants raised an eyebrow. “Then the girl is even more priceless,” he said. “Magical beauty, innocence and an education.” He rubbed his hands.
“I beg one boon of you, my lord,” John Swiftsword quickly interjected.
“And that is?” Gaius Prospero asked. What could the man possibly want? He was being paid a fortune for his merchandise.
“Please, my lord, I will sign your papers today, but let my daughter remain with me until the time of the tournament.”
So the mercenary loved his child. “You will need monies for your clothing, your armor and your weapons,” the Master of the Merchants reminded John Swiftsword.
“I will ask only what my wife needs for materials,” John said, “and a down payment to the armorer and the swordsmith. They are my friends, and will accept a final payment after the tourney ends.”
Gaius Prospero considered the request. “The girl will not run away?” he asked.
“Nay, she is an obedient lass, and my wife and I will explain all the advantages this change in her circumstances will afford her. Lara is not a stupid girl. She will understand that this future we have planned for her will be a good future. Please, my lord. It is unlikely I shall ever see my child again once she leaves me.”
The mercenary was right, of course. Crusader Knights were family men who generally cleaved to their wives, although he knew some who had the morals of alley cats. Still, it was unlikely this father and daughter would meet again. Gaius Prospero loved his own two daughters dearly, and this was an area in which he was disposed to be reasonable. “I will have it written into our agreement,” he said.
Then he struck a bronze gong that sat on the table, and almost immediately the secretary Jonah was there, bowing to his master. The Master of the Merchants gave him his instructions. “And be quick. John Swiftsword will want to tell his wife and daughter of our agreement today, and he must walk across the City before dark. And I have promised my daughters that we are going to the farm for a few days. Send a message to my wife that we will leave within the hour, and have the traveling vehicle ready.” Then the Master of the Merchants turned to John Swiftsword and said, “Perhaps you would enjoy waiting in my little garden. Jonah will come for you when the papers are ready for us to sign.”
The mercenary bowed, turned and followed Jonah into the anteroom. When the secretary had disappeared in a cloud of his own importance John Swiftsword walked through the colonnade into the small garden. One day he would have a house with a garden like this. A garden where Susanna could sit at her loom, or with her sewing on the warm days. A garden where Mikhail could play in safety. And when he had that garden he would remember Lara with silent thanks. He sighed and sat down on a small marble bench, looking about him more carefully. There was a small fishpond in the middle of the walled garden. There was a miniature flowering tree at the end of each flowerbed. The beds were filled with blooms. Reds and pinks. Purples and lavenders. Yellow, orange and blues. And white flowers that perfumed the little garden with an incredible sweetness. It was so beautiful, and so perfect he felt near to weeping. Or was it the garden? He brushed the tears from his eyes.
He had no other choice. He knew with certainty that if he entered the tourney he would win a place for himself among the Crusader Knights, and in doing so he, Susanna and Mikhail would ascend to a higher social strata. They would never be poor again. Even if he were injured in his duties, and unable to serve his order further, he and his family would be taken care of. To remain a mercenary could only lead to eventual disaster. Susanna was right. His daughter was the only valuable thing he possessed. To retain Lara in his custody would be to doom them all to continued poverty and misfortune. He must put his sentiment, his memories, firmly aside and do what was right for all of them. He heard an impatient cough, and looking up saw the secretary, Jonah.
“My master is ready for you,” the secretary said haughtily.
“Where are the papers?” John Swiftsword asked.
“In the antechamber outside of the library,” Jonah responded.
“I will want to peruse the papers before I sign them,” the mercenary said.
“What?” The secretary looked outraged. “Do you think my master is attempting to cheat you? Such a thing is impossible!”
“Restrain your outrage,” John Swiftsword replied dryly. “I merely wish to see what it is I am signing. Would you sign an important paper without reading it first?”
“No,” the secretary admitted, “but I would hardly think a man in your position would care. You are being paid a most excellent price for your daughter.”
“Were I not in my position,” the mercenary said low, “I should not sell the child I love. Now let me see the papers you have drawn up.” He followed the secretary back into the antechamber where the parchments lay upon the round marble table. Picking them up, John Swiftsword scanned them carefully, his eyes widening at the price he was being paid for his daughter. Ten thousand gold cubits, half to be put with a goldsmith today that he might draw upon it, the other half to be turned over when he surrendered Lara to Gaius Prospero. The surrender date was to be, to his surprise, the day after the tournament was over. “Is this correct?” he asked Jonah.
“The master thought you might want your daughter to see you attain your goal, John Swiftsword. He is a family man himself, and loves his own daughters,” the secretary answered in a gentler tone than he had previously used with the mercenary.
John Swiftsword nodded, and surreptitiously wiped his eyes again. Then he turned his attention once more to the parchment. All was exactly as he had agreed with Gaius Prospero. He handed the parchment back to the secretary. “I am ready to sign,” he said.
Together the two men reentered the great library of the Master of the Merchants.
“I have the papers, my lord,” Jonah said, spreading them before Gaius Prospero, who glanced at them carelessly before taking the inked quill from his secretary’s hand and signing the two parchments. A copy for him. A copy for John Swiftsword. Jonah handed a second quill to John Swiftsword.
The mercenary closed his eyes but a brief moment, then opening them, took the quill and signed his name in a strong, legible hand. With a deep sigh he handed the pen back to the secretary. Then to his surprise the Master of the Merchants held out his hand.