Page 39 of Fortress of Snow

“That is very flattering, but I am not ready to marry.” In truth, her mind went to Sir Berenger, which was the utmost foolishness. She suddenly realized that the biggest reason she couldn’t marry Martin Fisher was because Sir Berenger existed in the world.

“I shall not give up. I vow that I shall never love another but you, my lovely Mazy.” He stood, grabbed her hand, and kissed it.

“You should not pledge yourself to me, Martin. You will find a good woman who will be glad to marry a good man like you, but I will not change my mind. I am too independent for marriage.”

“I shall change your mind.”

“No, I don’t think you will.”

She had to ignore him while she waited on customers. Before he left, he vowed to come back the next day. The entire encounter made her feel unsettled.

Now it was late in the day, and Mazy sat down on an upended bucket to rest her feet. She let out a deep breath and nibbled on a roll of bread and a bit of cheese.

Selling things was not what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. It was an interesting way to make a living, and Mazy was grateful for that. But even with all the friends she’d made, she felt as if there must be more to life, something more enjoyable that she could do to provide for herself.

Sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like if she’d stayed at home and let Warin marry her off. She might be married to a baron or a landed knight, or perhaps even an earl or viscount. Would she have a child or two by now? Would she have liked being a wife and mother and taking care of a home? Probably, but she wasn’t sure that life would have completely satisfied her. She craved independence, the respect of other people, the knowledge that she could protect and provide for herself. And perhaps the most enjoyable thing about selling goods at the market was knowing that she was helping the women, mostly poor widows, who trusted her to sell their goods.

She did not mind working. Besides, it was likely that shewould have been forced into a loveless marriage. She might very well be unhappy or even mistreated and abused, so she could not regret the way things had turned out.

Martin Fisher did not inspire love in her, and she didn’t think he ever would. But perhaps someday she would get an offer of marriage from someone she could love. It would be good to be loved, to belong to someone. She would not care if he was not wealthy, as long as he loved her.

But her thoughts went back to Sir Berenger. Until she saw someone better, he would always be her idea of an ideal man.

She didn’t want to dwell on that, so she distracted herself by watching the people walking through the marketplace. She was accustomed now to the crowds of people that had so overwhelmed her when she first came to London. Some walked briskly and purposefully, while others were so loaded down with oversized packs on their backs that they could barely amble along. Most of her customers were old men and women with lines on their faces and sagging skin buying food for themselves and their families. All around her, every day, people were milling about as they searched for a specific item, sometimes not finding it and hurrying away, no doubt headed for one of the larger markets.

Mazy drank the water from her flask, which now tasted warm and stale. She’d have to draw more from the community well.

A man on horseback caught her eye. It was Sir Berenger.

He dismounted, left his horse at the outskirts of the market with his squire, and started toward her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was her hair askew? She reached up to try to smooth it down. As was the custom for younger women, she left it partially uncovered by the short scarf that tied it up. At least she had worn her prettiest dress today, one of the ones she had taken from home more than two years ago.

“Have you received good news from the king?” she asked him. “I am sure he was very pleased with you.”

“Yes, he wishes to reward me for my service, but he has not decided exactly how.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds encouraging.”

“I cannot complain. He wants me to stay and be his guard commander, at least for now.”

“That is wonderful! Although I know you shall be busy, I will be very glad to see you when you’re able. Have you seen John yet?”

“No, but I’m sure I shall.”

How would her brother like being under Sir Berenger’s authority? She hoped he would not be too disagreeable about it, as they were once equals. Her brother could be so resentful of authority or anyone with power over him.

“I will be able to keep an eye on you now and make sure you’re staying safe.” Sir Berenger was gazing intently into her eyes.

“That is very kind of you,” Mazy said, refusing to let his words or his intense look fluster her. He only cared for her as his sister’s friend.

“Are you almost finished for the day?” Sir Berenger asked.

“I can be finished now. I just have to pack up my things.” Mazy wished Ro was there to help her.

Sir Berenger was quick to step around the front of the stall, loading her wares into bags and tying them down on the back of her horse. The work was done very quickly with his help.

“I would like to buy you supper at the inn around the corner.”