Page 29 of Fortress of Snow

Mazy bought some, although the fried fruit pies looked very greasy.

On their way back to the alehouse, Ro asked, “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I’m sixteen too!”

“My brother John is twenty-one, and my older brother is twenty-four.”

“I would have had an older sister, but she died before I was born. Were you ever married or betrothed? You said your father was a baron.”

“No, never married or betrothed.” Mazy almost mentioned Sir Berenger, but that would be strange. He was not even a marriage prospect. He was also not her brother nor any relation to her. She missed him, though, and prayed for him every day, that God would keep him safe, give him great success in his quest, and bring him back to England quickly.

“You probably shouldn’t tell anyone that you have only your brother, especially if he is to be away a lot.”

“Why?”

“You might attract the attention of someone nefarious. But I’m sure you will be well. I don’t want to frighten you the way my father frightens me.” Ro rolled her eyes heavenward. “He treats me like a little child, like there’s a wolf around every corner, waiting to eat me.”

“I’m sure he only wants to keep you safe.”

Ro showed her around the streets between the marketplace and the Swan, pointing out various shops and places of interest, sprinkling in lots of advice about where to go, what to do, and what not to do in the busy town of London. Mazy felt more and more as if God in His goodness was blessing her with a great friend.

“What did you do to get your brother to disown you?” Ro’s green eyes looked at her sharply.

Mazy decided she could trust Ro, so she said, “My oldest brother was trying to marry me off to a very old man, so I ran away to see John, who was living nearby. One of my father’s tenants accompanied me, and my brother cast me off for being in his company. But nothing happened. Nothing at all. I think he just didn’t want to be responsible for me.”

Ro shook her head and slammed her fist into her palm. “It is unfair the way men treat us.”

“I don’t need him. I can defend myself.”

“My father said you can throw knives.”

“And I can shoot a bow as well as most men.”

“Lovely!” Ro laughed. “Will you teach me?”

“Of course.”

“I like you, Mazy. You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

“I try not to be.”

“That is good. We shall be great friends, you and I.” Ro smiled and slipped her arm through Mazy’s.

When they reached the alehouse, Ro squeezed her hand. “I have to go help my father or he will be angry, but I will come up to your room when I can. If I can sneak away from Father.” She whispered the last part and hurried into the alehouse.

A man’s voice shouted from inside. Mazy’s heart skipped a beat and she listened outside the door. She was fairly certain the voice was Ro’s father’s, but she could not make out the words.

Mazy peeked in the door. Ro’s father waved his hand and she scurried into the back of the alehouse. Her father suddenly caught sight of Mazy, an ugly scowl on his face.

“Ro was helping me,” Mazy said, taking a step inside the doorway. There were only two other men inside, but they were both staring at her. “It was my fault. I didn’t know the way to the market.”

The scowl on his face softened as he said, “Very well. But she has work to do now.”

Mazy hurried out and around the back of the half-timberand plaster building. She went in through the back door, and there was Ro, picking up a large burlap bag.

“You are so brave,” Ro whispered, a big smile on her face. “But don’t call me Ro in front of my father. He hates it when people call me that.”