Page 56 of The Mercenary

Sabine could not believe it.

Despite the size of Noreham Castle, this was not an overly large village. Even in large towns, girdlers would often come for market day and then move on to the next town.

But there it was. A wooden sign bearing the image of a decorative belt chape, swaying back and forth with the breeze.

“Could it be?”

Even as she asked, Sabine knew this was indeed a girdler’s shop.

“It would appear so.”

She had already pulled her arm from Guy’s comfortable grasp. Still incredulous, Sabine ran into the small wooden structure. Belts of all kinds lined every surface. When the older man behind the table looked up from his work, his gaze inquisitive, she remembered her mother’s warning.

You’ve a skill, but that matters little to most men.

Additional words were unnecessary. Sabine knew few women had ever been accepted into a girdler’s guild. Her own father, though proud of her handiwork, had never allowed her, or her mother for that matter, to bring her wares to the market. He’d claimed it would be inappropriate due to their station, but Sabine had long suspected that was only a part of what made her father uncomfortable. If they’d been men, he likely would have felt differently.

She watched as the man looked down to her waist as any good girdler would do. Waiting, Sabine sucked in a breath and held it.

After a long moment passed, the white-haired man crooked a finger to her. Sabine took a step toward him, distantly aware of Guy standing just behind her.

“Who made that?”

His voice crackled like dry firewood.

“I made it myself, Master . . . ?”

“Roger.”

Roger. Was it his given name or a surname?

“Master Roger.”

Sabine looked back at Guy and nearly laughed at his expression. He was glaring at Master Roger as if the man had just proclaimed himself a loyal servant to the king and accused them of being traitors.

And then she realized why.

Locking eyes with him, Sabine only turned back to the girdler when the older man cleared his throat.

“Splendid” was all he said.

Sabine did not know how to proceed. She didn’t even know what she wanted from the girdler. Her surprise at seeing him here had overridden all other considerations.

“A girdler’s shop in a village this size,” she said, realizing she’d not actually asked a question. Or even introduced herself.

But the man’s kindly eyes urged her to continue. This was not, she sensed, a man who would reject her simply for being a woman.

“I am Lady Sabine. And this is my husband, Sir Guy Lavallais.”

The man’s brows drew together. “The mercenary with a sword arm like none other.”

She nodded as if she’d had some part in honing her husband’s skill.

“Aye,” she said, belatedly realizing Guy may not want his name being spread more than necessary. It was likely some might question his presence, especially with Bande de Valeur camped nearby. Though since Noreham already knew, it hardly mattered. But Master Roger said nothing more about Guy.

“My father served the lord of Noreham, and his father did the same before him. My grandfather built this shop. We have been favored by the lord here, and by God, for many years.”

That he could stay in one place without having to travel from market to market was indeed a boon.