Rosemary

Chapter 2: To Market

Despite the clear sky and warm weather, the mood in the horse drawn cart was mixed. Some of them chattered excitedly about being bought by new families, moving to new towns, even the potential prospect of marriage. Some of them were silent and frightened, simply swaying slightly as they were carried down the bumpy road.

They had been treated fairly by Master Marcus, so their futures felt uncertain.

The girl with the golden brown hair and dark green eyes had been at the manor her whole life, so she knew little of the world.

Well, except what she had read in her Master's books and journals documenting his travels. They were stuffy, boring reads, but every once in awhile she'd see the name of a new place, or a description of a strange creature.

She longed to see one in person, but even a drawing in a book would do. She wondered if any odd creatures would be at the market today. She imagined them traveling in from distant lands, leaving very important quests and close families just to gawk at a few peasant girls. It seemed pretty unlikely.

Her life at the manor had mostly been boring. Mostly just lots of work, maintaining the home and property, keeping the other servants on task. Mostly just cleaning up his messes, making his food, keeping him company. Mostly just getting on with the day and not really thinking much about tomorrow.

But once in awhile, when Marcus had drunk himself into a stupor, and all of the chores had been done, she could lounge in the small garden. She was the only one who took care of it, so it had become her own private sanctuary. In one of the corners, she had tended to a large rosemary plant since she was young. Over the years it had bloomed into a huge bush, covered in fragrant herbs, and tiny purple flowers. She would sit in a hollow underneath it, reading her books, inhaling the delicate, earthy scent.

She was going to miss that garden.

The bush was so plentiful, she always had enough herbs to season her cooking with, to weave into her hair, to collect into a bundle and keep under her pillow. She had even taken to using a sprig to press between the pages of her books, to keep her place, but had stopped doing it after she found that the oils had stained the paper.

Her favorite had been an old book about a girl who escaped to the woods and went to live with the bears. She rode with them through the forest whenever she pleased, hunting and exploring all day long. Rosemary had read it over and over, absorbing every detail, always hiding it in her cot after.

She had

technicall

y stolen it (someone had left it on the ground unattended in town) and so didn't dare let anyone know that she had it. She had left it behind in the manor, tucked away between the dusty tomes. Maybe if Marcus had read it he would have regained his own lost sense of adventure.

When he died, his son took over the manor and squandered his fortune. The boy had been forced to sell off most of his father's assets. Including the precious books.

The human women were among those assets. Some had been bought and sold before, but not the girl. She assumed she had been born there, for she had some memories of a woman, from when she was very young. But Master Marcus never liked to discuss it.

And then he died, his old heart weakened by all of that traveling he had loved so much. And all of the imported wine he had developed a taste for.

So they were being brought to the auction in town. She had never been off of the property except to run errands, so while it normally would have been exciting to see the town, a pit was forming in her stomach. She knew that, at 24 years of age, she was an ideal candidate for marrying, and most likely would be purchased to be a bride.

Being a wife is

supposed

to be better than being a slave, but she didn't see much of a difference. It was just a transfer of ownership from one man to another, maybe a bit of paperwork. Except instead of just cooking and cleaning she would also be expected to perform

marital duties

. She cringed inwardly at the thought, pulling up her hood and hunching down so as not to be noticed. She wished she were wearing one of her older, dirtier robes that hid her slightly underfed figure.

Her nice robes reserved for functions and parties made her feel too exposed, even if the light linen fabric was ideal for the dry, summer heat. Sweating, she could feel it clinging in all the places she'd rather it not cling to.

Not in public, anyways.

The cart hit a harsh bump and she curled up even smaller. The servant across from her, who had put great pains into braiding her hair nicely on top of her head clucked, chastising her.

"Don't pull your up hood so tight, you'll ruin your hair."

She didn't care if her hair became ruined and ignored her. The delicate braids forming a crown on her head were there to make her more appealing to her potential buyers. But it had also given her a spot to sneak a little sprig in from her favorite bush. She could scratch at her head, and it looked like she was just itchy, but she was actually rubbing at the fragrant leaves, leaving a bit of the smell on her hands. She sniffed her finger, and the servant across the cart looked at her incredulously.

Good. She stuck her tongue out rudely.

She had never had the best relationship with the other servants. She had been there the longest, and knew how Master Marcus wanted everything done. So if something wasn't done properly, it would usually be on

her

head. So she had taken to ordering the others about if they were being lazy or absent minded. Which was often.

It got the job done, but it didn't necessarily get her any

friends

. She knew that some of the gossip and giggling in the hallways had been about her, as if she wasn't just trying to keep things running smoothly. About her unkempt hair or sullen attitude, or propensity to hide for hours in the garden.

Nothing in the manor went unnoticed, unfortunately. She was either being judged for her actions at work, or judged for them in private. She had developed a tendency to be brash and rude in response.

So she had contented herself on just having the old man, even if he was poor company. But she was still a servant. Though she was well liked, and she did do her job properly, a bit of extra praise from a drunk man was hardly worth the constant glares and scoffing when she walked by. It would make her angry, and harshen her tone with the others.

She knew it only made things worse, but after years of going around in circles like that, the damage had already been done. They

really

weren't fond of each other. She had often dreamed about running away, or even finding a new life somewhere with Marcus. Maybe revisiting some of his favorite places in his old age. Maybe being nostalgic for the relationship they used to have, before she got old enough to work and he learned to depend on her for everything.

But now he was dead, and she didn't know where she would end up.

She had never had a great love for the depressing man, he had never raised a hand to her, and didn't allow her to starve. In fact, he often insisted that she needed to eat more, and fill out. Though his insistence had become more and more uncomfortable as she became older. She even had her own small room next to the kitchen so she could get his tea ready first thing in the morning, as opposed to sleeping in the main quarters attached to the manor.

When she was younger, she had even thought of him more as a father figure, and delighted in reading his old dusty journals. She had imagined him as a dashing adventurer back then.

But at the moment she hated him. She was angry with how much he would drink, even when she tried to get him to stop. She'd hide the bottles, or get rid of them all together when she was feeling bolder, or try to trick him by watering it down with dinner.

But he could go into town and buy more whenever he pleased. She could only do what she could with what she had. And what she had had was a lonely, broken, shell of a man who had once been great. And had contented himself to drown his sorrows and grow lethargic on his couch.

And now he was dead.

The market quickly approached.