Releasing Henry by Sarah Hegger

Author:Sarah Hegger [Hegger, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Emboldened by her success with Faye and Beatrice, Alya snatched up two of her new silks, gave another two to Bernard and went to see the castle seamstresses. Dog dropped into place at her heels.

Bernard held the silk gingerly. “Where are we going?”

“Into battle, Bernard.” Alya squared her shoulders.

In a small room on one side of the inner bailey beside the laundry worked the seamstresses. Great vats from the laundry billowed steam into the gray afternoon, and carried the smell of boiling laundry.

A laundress stopped stirring and leaned against her paddle as Alya passed.

“Good day.” Alya used English and a pleasant smile.

The woman stiffened, nodded tersely, and worked her paddle through the water again.

Chatter stopped as Alya entered the seamstresses’ lair. Light flooded the small chamber and made sewing easier. Three faces turned and stared at her.

“Good day.” She did not have many English words but she had drawn a picture of what she wanted. She moved aside an overflowing work basket and put her parchment down on the table. “Make, please.” Henry had stressed the importance of using please. Alya spread her silks on the table, being sure not to let them touch the floor, and motioned Bernard to do the same.

The women glanced at each other.

The older of the trio got up and stared at the drawing. She said something in English and pushed the drawing back at Alya.

“They say they cannot.” Bernard translated for her.

She didn’t need Bernard to understand the clear message. These women did not want to do her work. Alya pointed to the silk and the drawing. “You make.”

Gray Hair shook her head. “Nay.”

“Please…why?” Her English improved day by day but she had never cursed her lack of proficiency more.

Gray Hair rolled her eyes. “Silk for pillows. Nay,” she yelled.

Did the woman think if she spoke louder, Alya would suddenly understand? “Why?”

“No good.” Gray Hair sat down and snatched up her work.

“She says the silk is too good for making pillows.” Flushed and frowning, Bernard cast a longing gaze at the door.

“I understood that,” she said, but Alya had lain on enough silk cushions in her time to know the woman did not speak the truth. “I want silk.”

Cackling, the seamstresses put their heads together.

Bernard gasped and glanced at her.

Alya willed the earth to open and swallow her whole. Or better yet swallow the cow camels talking and laughing at her. If this were Cairo, Bahir would have whipped them for their rudeness. Then again, if this was Cairo, she would know how to speak to them.

“Make.” She pushed the silk toward them.

“Nay.” Gray Hair shoved the silk back at her so hard it slithered off the table and dropped to the dirty floor.

The seamstresses laughed.

Alya bent to gather her silk. She bowed her head to hide the weak tears pricking behind her eyelids. How dare they treat her as if she did not matter? They did not know her to be so rude to her. They could make what she wanted, but they chose not to.

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