Shadow of the Savernake_Book One of the Taxane Chronicles by Jayne Hackett

Author:Jayne Hackett [Hackett, Jayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-11-11T05:00:00+00:00

23

First Contact

Across from Denzil’s perfect knot garden, by the well, a slender girl was wrestling with two fat chickens that were instinctively resisting her attentions. She’d managed to take one of the birds by a scrawny leg and the other by the neck and both were squawking mightily as they attempted to escape their fate. The girl, though painfully inept, was at least determined, he thought, and was far too focused to sense that he observed her. Holless was the usual observer of servants at the Hall, secretly ascertaining their true character, discovering their weaknesses. Denzil merely took advantage of the insights, but he was already aware of this girl and watched her himself from the shadow of the chamber casement.

Certainly, if Cook espied this wench, she would receive a sharp clout around the ear for her clumsy handling of the task. ‘Twas well know that frightened chickens made tough eating. The girl, with her heavy, shoulder length brown hair and unusually pale complexion, had a skin which was as yet unblemished by the familiar marks of disease. Yet again, Denzil noted the teeth. It was always the teeth. He saw her ill-fitting dress and how her immodest breasts threatened to free themselves from her bodice as she vigorously wrestled the fowl, and he smiled with pleasure. The sun streamed down on her from low over the trees and backlit her shape as she battled with the recalcitrant chickens. What really entranced him was that, despite the struggle, she was enjoying herself. He was too far away to hear her exact words but the tone which floated through the breeze to him, was enticing.

Florence chided the chicks through gritted teeth, ‘Look. I know it’s tough but it’s nature, you know? You’re chickens and we need dinner. Give in gracefully will you!’ Suddenly she got a firm grip on one chicken and shoved it under her arm, where she held it firmly, her elbow pressed hard into it like a bagpipe sack. Its partner was thus grasped by both hands and with a swift and entirely unexpected strength, she wrung the neck of the bird and dropped it at her feet. Her success seemed to surprise her and the second bird fell swiftly afterwards. She paused to adjust her dress and blew off stray feathers with a smug satisfaction. ‘Sorry chicks but nature’s red in tooth and claw and all that,’ she chirruped - and roast chicken is my favourite.’

Denzil was quite bewitched. She was small and lithe, healthy and strong and he realised that he admired her sense of purpose and determination. Her tongue was as strange as he’d grown to expect but he knew it as English. Denzil thought that it might not be too difficult for Holless to tutor the girl as to what was in her best interest where the requests of the master were concerned. He listened a little longer as the girl started to pluck the chickens, singing quietly to herself.

‘Blackbird singing in the dead of night .

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