Pauper Auction by Mary Kronenwetter

Author:Mary Kronenwetter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stone Fence Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Jacob, like all hunters, knew that deer visited open fields and orchards most commonly at dawn and dusk. But he had to leave instructions for the day with his beetle-headed apprentices and wait until the residents of the town had ridden their wagons past the tannery into town for the nuptial ceremony and reception. It was midmorning before he had made his way to the largest and best-tended orchard in town, the Wheeler Farm.

Margery looked up from her weeding and watering of the kitchen garden and noticed that the sun had slid farther along in its arc towards midday than she had expected. “Come on sluggard,” she chastised herself. She jumped to her feet and grabbed her foraging basket. She reached for her sheathed foraging knife that lay on the ground nearby and threw it in the basket, thinking to return it to its proper place, hanging from a leather cord around her neck, before she came to the edge of the woods.

She headed up the hill, cutting through the apple orchard to reach the edge of the farm’s woodlot. The heady smell of pippins replaced the scents of the barnyard as she progressed. Honeybees and wasps alike flitted through the air and feasted on ripe and rotting apples. As Margery traversed the orchard, she remembered the spring morels she had found under the older apple trees and the sweet taste of the mushrooms and oniony ramps cooked in butter in the skillet earlier in the year. She looked forward to a basket brimming with chanterelles and preparing them for the members of the household. Perhaps she would even bake a beef and mushroom pie come Saturday baking day.

The overwhelming fetor of death rudely thrust away Margery’s savory olfactory memory. Just one row of trees sat between Margery and the forest edge. She wondered if there was a nearby half-eaten animal carcass left from a predator’s recent kill.

“Mistress Turner, this is an unexpected meeting. I feel most fortunate, I do.” Margery turned in horror towards the unctuous voice of the tanner. He stood in the orchard row with legs anchored wide, wearing a hunting frock secured with a wide leather belt.

“Mr. Kimball, what are you doing here?” she stuttered.

“Oh, I was following tracks and must have not been paying attention and found myself in your master’s orchard,” he replied. “I would have imagined that you would be at the wedding today. Does your master leave you home to make yourself pretty for his arrival back to his bed tonight?” He ran his eyes appraisingly over her body. Again, the vile accusation.

“Such words are beneath contempt, Mr. Kimball. I insist you leave this property immediately. You do not have Samuell’s permission to be here or to hunt here.”

“Oh, Samuell, is it,” Kimball sneered. “I do not know of many servants who call their master by his Christian name.”

“I am not his servant,” she retorted. “I willingly provide my hands to work to maintain this farm.”

Margery’s protests were met with a mocking laugh from the tanner.

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