Chapter 3
Anora
My feet ached from the shoes I wore, a pair borrowed from Isabel. They were dreadfully uncomfortable, only thin wisps of leather tied on with cording and worn out from years of use. I wasn't surprised by any means; peasant shoes--especially old ones that had seen better days--couldn't compare to the luxury I lived in being a royal. My stature afforded me the best of everything, which had all been left behind in my chambers in the castle.
"This dress is too large," I hissed, tugging at the woven cotton fabric. The bodice crept lower and lower with each movement I made. Isabel was taller than me, a bit broader in the shoulders too. I wore a dress borrowed from her, shoes that belonged on feet smaller than mine despite how tall she was. Thankfully I was able to get away with wearing my own pantaloons, but peasants didn't have corsets like mine, so even that was borrowed for fear that the dress would dip in the front too far and someone would notice.
"You wanted to come with me, so this is what you get. You know your brother would have your head if you ventured out here with us commoners and didn't have your babysitters." Isabel picked up an avocado and squeezed it. She had done this a million times; it was how she lived her life daily. I had snuck out of the castle with her many times, but I'd never been to the market without my royal guard.
"You know the guard accompanies me with good reason. There are dangerous men who would--"
"Shh, what do you want to get yourself killed?" She grabbed my elbow and dropped the avocado, leading me away from the merchant's stall into the chaos of people moving about. Hands grabbed and reached, thronging the market in search of baked goods, vegetables, fresh fruits, and other small items not sold in the various carts set up around the court square.
I bit my lip, frustrated with the way she treated me, but even that was a ruse. She was right. If anyone were to find out the princess walked the street as a commoner any number of horrible things could happen. I clung to her side, navigating the business and taking it all in. Merchants with carts and makeshift stalls lined all four sides of the square. Women carried baskets loaded with their treasures, while men milled about chewing tobacco and carrying on. The market happened each week on the sixth day, before the Lord's day.
I had often watched from the castle wall all the festivities, wondering what it must be like to be amongst the normal people. Here on the ground in the middle of the raucous buying and selling, I felt powerless and fearful. It was much louder than it looked, merchants and vendors shouting the sales they had going on. One man even carried a large smooth stick, which I later found out was due to the high rate of theft he had suffered.
"Oh, look, over there." Isabel pointed at a stall three or four spots down. Tables of various heights nestled in a semicircle in front of a wagon. An elderly woman stood with money bags in hand smiling. The tables were covered in soaps and bottles of lotions, and I recognized the soft colored paper and brown twine they were wrapped in. It was the merchant that Isabel purchased my soaps and perfumes from. I felt strangely comforted by the familiarity of the sight in the middle of this new experience.
"Yes... let's go there now." I started that way, hiking my skirt up even though the skirt fell across my shins. Isabel snatched my hand away, yanking me backward.
"Stop doing that. God's sakes, woman. Your skirt does not brush the ground. Look around!" She leaned in close to my ear where I could hear her harsh whispers and smell the faint hint of the lavender soap I had washed her with only this morning when she shared our bath. It tingled my skin thinking of the way she made me feel. "Commoners do not wear skirts like the ones you have. If you keep doing that, everyone will know you are not a commoner."
Her strong rebuke sobered me. I stiffened and followed her as she guided me to the next stall. "We'll go get our soaps next. First I want to pick out some fresh vegetables." We stood in front of a vendor whose produce was stacked in large crates with little method of organization. The man himself was haggard, his beard unkempt.
"What sort of vegetables do we need to buy?" I picked up a tomato, feeling the weight of it in my hand. I didn't interact with food except once it was cooked, so even though I knew what all of these things were, even this was a new experience for me.
"Well, you don't need anything. That's all taken care of." Isabel seemed in a mod today, snapping at me. "But I need somethings to make a stew. I'm thinking--" she sorted through the crates, searching for something "--ah,aye. Here it is." With a wide naughty grin on her face she turned around brandishing a large eggplant. The long, deep purple vegetable was smooth and firm, and Isabel's face made me think things no proper woman should even dare let cross her mind. "This looks fun."
She dropped the eggplant into her basket and grabbed my hand, leading me toward the merchant. "What are you doing?" I had to control the nervous waves of arousal now shooting through my body, coloring my face a dark pink.
"I'm buying my produce, silly. No one needs to know what it's for." She dropped a few more vegetables into her basket--leeks, a turnip, an onion. Her hand in mine was cool and relaxed, a stark contrast to my clammy, sweaty skin. "And later when you are calling my name, you'll thank me."
"Isabel," I hissed, chuckling. She always pushed the limits, skirting propriety like a fine lace on the edge of a garment.
"That'll be three coppers." The merchant held out his hand to Isabel who rifled through her money purse in search of the coins. I tucked myself behind her, not wanting to make eye contact. My strawberry blonde hair had been plaited as a peasant would do, and tucked beneath a ridiculous white cap, tied on my head so tightly my brain bulged from my eyes and ears. That didn't stop his prying eyes from looking me up and down.
I pulled the dress up again, keeping my chest covered, but I felt exposed. The man ogled me like a piece of meat at the butcher. Isabel took far longer to extract the coins from her purse than necessary and my pounding heart was likely to shut down.
"Looks like yer dress is a wee bit big." He grinned at me, exposing stained teeth littered with stray tobacco fibers.
"Uh...aye... well it belongs to my sister. She's bit larger than I am." I forced a smile and moved closer to Isabel, who elbowed me hard in the ribs.
"Here you are!" she snapped out, disguising the rude assault to my side with a bobble of her body.
"Careful there. Your toys might take a tumble." The man winked at me then glanced at the vegetables in the basket knowingly. I scoffed, ready to let loose on him, but Isabel hooked her arm in mine and jerked me away.
"Thank you, sir." Her grip on my arm cut off the circulation to my fingers and I whimpered. "Keep walking."
I sighed angrily and obeyed but I glanced over my shoulder at the perverted old man and he winked again. "He had no right. The nerve of --"
"Shut up, Annalyse." Isabel's singsong voice warned me I was crossing the line again. A woman with my authority should never been the object of any man's ogling and definitely not his rude insinuations about our purchases. I turned and watched where we were going, but not soon enough. My body slammed into something hard and the air burst from my lungs in a loud grunt.
"Woah, steady there, milady." Large, strong hands held me upright as I got my bearings. I looked up into the greenest eye's I'd ever seen, a man of about twenty-five staring down at me. He was handsome, brown wavy hair framing his face and tied back with a cord. He smelled like sandalwood, and unlike many other merchants in this marketplace his shirt and pants weren't stained or even soiled.
"I, uh, sorry." If the blush had gone from my cheeks following my last interaction it was short lived because they burned hotter than the sun. Isabel stood next to me snickering.
