Sir Warren of Bainsbridge dismounted his horse and rapped on the door of the tiny house. Gareth opened the door and, seeing his feudal landlord, bowed his head and took a step back.
"Milord," he said as he pulled his tunic back on. "Forgive me. I was not expecting you."
"Relax, Gareth," said Sir Warren. "This is your home. May I come in?"
"Of course, Milord."
Stepping aside, Gareth ushered in the man to whom he was a serf.
"Gareth," Sir Warren began. "I need to speak with you on a delicate matter."
"Milord..."
Raising his hand, Sir Warren stopped him before he could continue.
"Please Gareth, let me finish. Before he died, my father told me of your bravery and loyalty. It was because you saved his life that he bequeathed to you a parcel of land double the size of any other serf.
"As you know, however, I am still lord of the manor. As such, I collect a portion of what the land yields or equivalent money. It has been four months since I received a tribute from you. I understand that the land has been less productive of late. You are not alone in that circumstance. Most everyone is telling me the same thing. Everyone is struggling, but we must press on. We must maintain our position amongst the other lords or they will surely take us over β and they will not be as patient and understanding as I.
"We need to find a way to maintain our relative places. I come with a proposition for you to consider. I have had freemen working for me β both in the manor and on the grounds. Because I've been unable to pay them, I've been obliged to allow them to go elsewhere if that is their wish. I've been fortunate. About half of them have decided to stay a while longer. Even so, there are quite a few jobs not getting done.
"In short, Gareth, I need labor. The land is not producing, so there's not much for you to do here. Come work for me."
"Milord, that still leaves the problem of feeding the people who work at the manor. If there is no produce, how long can we survive? People must eat."
"There are ways, Gareth. Some parcels are producing. Also, other land under other lords is producing greatly. They will need labor. We can provide that labor in exchange for a portion of the yield. The important thing is that we need to be unified and deal from a position of strength. Our strength now is in our labor force."
Just then, Clarissa, Gareth's daughter, entered the room.
"Father, there is tea and soup ready."
"Sir warren, will you join us?" Asked Gareth. "Milord..."
"Hmm. I'm sorry. Did you say something, Gareth?"
"I asked if you'd be joining us for supper."
"I wouldn't want to burden you."
"It's no burden, Milord. Besides, your idea merits discussion."
"Then, yes. I will join you. Thank you. Gareth, is that your daughter?"
"Yes. That's Clarissa."
"She's quite lovely. Quite lovely, indeed."
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Supper was quietly eaten, and then the two men discussed Sir Warren's idea. After reaching agreement, Sir Warren broached the subject of Clarissa.
"Gareth," he began tentatively. "I would very much enjoy having Clarissa serve at the manor, also."
"Of course," replied Gareth. "That is your prerogative."
"I think you misunderstand. I will not indulge that prerogative with you. You were my father's friend. I am asking."
"Thank you, Milord. If that is your intention, perhaps you should ask Clarissa."
Clarissa nearly jumped at the opportunity. After all, she would get to see and, in fact, live in, the big manor. She would be working for a man to whom she'd immediately been attracted. He was strong looking but soft spoken. When he talked to her, his eyes burned into hers and her heart skipped a beat. She wondered how closely she'd be working with him.
"Don't get the wrong idea, girl." Her father warned. "This is no holiday. You'll be working. You will do whatever Sir Warren tells you to do."
"Yes, anything." She thought to herself.
____________________
She'd been at the manor for more than two weeks without anything happening that even remotely resembled her hopeful expectations. Mostly she'd been helping in the kitchen and serving meals. Sometimes she'd be sent to tidy Sir Warren's bedchambers. This was the most torturous of all, for as soon as she entered the bedchambers, and for the whole time she was within, his scent enveloped her like a fog.
She was at an age where she was constantly aware of her physical desires. She would occasionally give in to those desires, but not very often. There really wasn't much opportunity, with the constant presence of her parents and with so much work always needing to be done. But now, in completely different surroundings and so close to a man unlike any she'd ever known, she was overwhelmed by a stronger awareness of her body's needs.
That night, with eyes downcast, she approached Sir Warren.
"Milord," she said meekly.
"Yes, Clarissa."
"Have I displeased you in some way?"
"No, not at all. Why would you ask such a thing?" He said, genuinely surprised.
"Well, at my father's home you seemed as though you..."
She paused.
"As though I what?" He prompted.
"I'm not quite sure how to say it, Milord...as though you wanted me."
"Yes. That's correct. That's why you're here. I wouldn't give you a job if I didn't want you here."
"No," she said. "Maybe I didn't say that right. I meant to say 'as though you desired me'"
"Oh," he replied in astonishment. "I didn't realize that it was that obvious. I'm sorry I embarrassed you."
"No, Milord. You didn't. I'm just confused now. I've been here for more than two weeks and you haven't even touched me. Maybe I presume too much, but the look you gave me that day was familiar. I've seen it in the eyes of boys in the village when they want me. But they're just boys and don't usually have the courage to pursue me."