Floodtide by Heather Rose Jones

Author:Heather Rose Jones [Jones, Heather Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642470468
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2019-10-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

April 1825—Longing

We were always given time off for services on holy days and the important feasts and it was expected that everyone would go. Tiporsel House fell under Saint Mauriz’s up in the Plaiz, but during Holy Week the cathedral was so crowded we had to stand in the back. On ordinary days we could use the Tiporsel pew if the family wasn’t using it, but on Easter a lot of the downstairs folk went to Saint Luk’s. It was almost as close, up at the far end of the Vezenaf. I usually got permission from Charsintek to go join Mefro Dominique and Celeste at Saint Nikule’s instead.

I liked the priest at Saint Nikule’s. He made you feel like you were really in the presence of God. It wasn’t anything special he did or said different. More a feeling you got when he led the services. Saint Mauriz’s was—well, not frightening, except in the way the idea of judgment day is frightening—but the cathedral felt too important for people like me. I don’t know if Father Mazzu remembered me from that night I slept in the church. If he did, he was polite and didn’t say anything. Mostly I liked going to Saint Nikule’s because I could spend time with Celeste. It felt a little like I was back in Sain-Pol and we were a family. I missed my family most during holidays, especially since I hadn’t seen Papa at the last quarter day. I didn’t know when I might have a chance to go back and visit.

There wasn’t any regular market on Easter Sunday, but of course there was always someone selling food and drinks any time people were gathered in the Nikuleplaiz. So we bought hot buns and chicken pies and strawberries as a treat and sat at one of the tables outside the wine shop hoping the morning’s rain wouldn’t come back.

We didn’t often have an idle afternoon like that, but Mefro Dominique had said we’d have a holiday. There wasn’t much sewing to be done right before summer. There might still be balls and parties—Maisetra Iulien was dreaming of hers—but the rich folk were getting ready to leave the city when floodtide was declared. The river gave no signs of rising so it might be another month before they’d give up and throw the bucket at Saint Nikule. It looked to be the same as the last few years with the river low and stinking all through the summer. I’d asked Liv if the rivermen thought it would rise. She said they didn’t presume to bid the river come and go.

That’s why I didn’t think much of it when people kept looking over past the statue of the saint to the river’s edge. What was there to see? We’d finished eating a long time ago and Mefro Dominique had bought a bottle of wine to share around with some of her friends who joined us: the milliner and a girl who helped with extra sewing when the work was too much for even Celeste and me.

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