Despite the Angels (20 page)

“It is hard, Sir, as a peasant,” she said carefully. “Even when you can grow some food, you owe most of it in taxes. I do not know the details, it is men who have what money there is. But you have a lot, I think,” she looked at Daniel, trying to gauge the effect her words was having on him. “I love my jewellery, but I think its price could keep my family for many years.” She stopped, hoping she had not said too much.

“You must never think of selling your jewellery. If you need I will give you its value for your family. You would not get a fair price for such workmanship, people around here would pay you only for the gold.” Daniel stopped and smiled at Eloise,

“This is a very solemn conversation for such a pretty woman. Come, smile again and let me see again why I buy you such beautiful things. That is better. I will talk to the foreman and some of the workers and see what I can do. Do not think about it again, no one will starve on my property. Maman will see to that - even if the villagers have to survive on her hard jam!” He laughed and Eloise joined in, as they thought of the unspreadable concoction the senior Madame deVrac had once amused herself by making.

The days were getting shorter but the weather stayed sultry. The sun shone hot through a pale grey sky, the air was still and tempers became short. Waiting for the time of the grape harvest, Daniel shut himself away in his office with his ledgers and did calculations. This year would be a good one, God willing, as there had been rain in the spring and there was good sunshine now, so the vintage should be high quality and command a good price. Maybe he could afford to pay the workforce a little. But what if he did this year and then next year it snowed? Or if there was a storm between now and the harvest? It might be dangerous to commit himself.  He wiped the sweat away from his forehead and neck and looked at his figures again. Abruptly, he stood up and strode to the door, calling out for a servant to send for the foreman.

Eloise was sitting in a rocking chair under the cherry tree opposite the house. Marie-Claire was on her knee, waving her pudgy fists and smiling at her mother, who was singing her a simple nursery song. The baby’s tiny dark curls were plastered to her scalp with sweat. Eloise had taken off Marie-Claire’s little bonnet, but there was no breeze to cool her head. Eloise had no energy: in this heat it was hard to gather any enthusiasm for anything. She sat and sang gently, smiling at her daughter, and wondered how she had managed in the old days eighteen months ago when she had been a peasant and been obliged to work. She could barely recall, it seemed another world. Eloise rocked her chair harder and managed to create an illusion of a breeze, which lifted one of the baby’s curls. Marie-Claire gurgled.

Another voice called to Eloise and for a moment she thought it was the baby, and started. Then she realised it was coming from behind her, behind the hedge. It came again –

“Eloise!” it was a throaty whisper. “I need to talk with you. Come here.”

“Who is it? Come round to me, it is shady here.” Eloise was looking round, trying to see through the hedge.

“No, I do not want your husband to see me.” Eloise recognised the voice now, it was Nicholas. She thought for a moment.

“And I do not want my husband to see me creeping away to talk to you. Not after the nonsense you told him about us. Such fibs!” She straightened back in her chair and closed her eyes.

“Not fibs at all. The truth as it would have been if you had not caught the rich man’s eye, you lucky hussy.”

“You might think so, I do not. Do you not remember I kicked your shins for trying to kiss me, years ago? I never wanted you, you were just my brother’s friend. Now, go away.”

There was a rustling of branches behind Eloise and suddenly Nicholas was beside her, his rough hand on her wrist. She pulled back, but he held tight and spoke in an urgent undertone.

“I always loved you, Eloise. The most beautiful woman in the village. I love you still. I would do anything for you, remember that. Times are coming when you may be glad I am your friend, glad you can still claim to be a peasant. But now, you can help me. Not just me, all of us, we are all in the same need. Luc would tell you so too, if you asked him.”

“My brother has the sense to leave me out of men’s affairs. He is glad for my good fortune and knows I will help everyone if I can. I asked my husband to give our sister work, so now that she is fed here, there is more to go around at home.”

“But you must tell your husband that we need more. You must.” Nicholas’s grip was getting harder on her wrist. Eloise reached across and slapped his hand. He let go and sat back on his hunkers, looking at her with a strange expression in his green eyes. Then Eloise explained, as patiently as she could, that she had already talked with Daniel about the wages and that he was working out what he could do about it.

“So, you see, there is no more I can do. No more I
will
do. Now go away.” Eloise fastened the baby’s bonnet onto her head, its curls a little drier now and stood up, holding Marie-Claire against her chest. She set off towards the house, with the determined firm walk of the working woman she had once been. Nicholas sat in the shade watching her go. Frustration and longing welled up in him and he thumped his fist into the ground.

“I will have you, I will. Sooner or later. You’ll need me sometime, then you’ll see.”

“Come on, Nicholas, leave her. She is not yours to have this time. I wish you would remember that,” Roki added ruefully, as he passed his energies around Nicholas, to smooth down some of the spikes that were sparking and shooting in Nicholas’s energy field. “Tell you what, there is no work to do now and Luc and the others have gone to the river to swim. Come on.”

Nicholas picked up his hat, squeezed his way back through the hedge and set off at a brisk walk towards the river. He hoped he would find some of the others there.

The foreman perched uncomfortably on the edge of a chair in Daniel’s office. He was not at all sure that it would hold his weight, with thin little gold legs like that and he was poised to stand if he heard a crack. He was finding it difficult to concentrate on what Daniel was saying. He understood vines all right and could take a good guess at foretelling the weather, he knew what the wine would fetch, but he left the detailed calculations to others. But he would not mind a bit of a raise in his wages, either. Those children were getting bigger all the time and so were their appetites, particularly the boys’. Only yesterday his wife had told him she thought there was another on the way. That would be seven, when would it end? His oldest was only twelve years old. I sometimes thank God for calling two of them home to Him, he thought, so why does He keep sending these expensive blessings? That rabble-rouser Nicholas has nothing to complain of and yet it is him who is stirring up this trouble; hope it doesn’t backfire on all of us.

“So do you think that would be acceptable?” Daniel’s voice broke through the foreman’s reverie. He had no idea what Daniel had just suggested, but reckoned that with all those big ledgers open on the desk, Daniel must have done some good work.

“Oh, I think so, M
on Seigneur. Very good.”

“Excellent. I will tell them at the harvest festival dinner. Thank you so much for your opinion.” Daniel stood up and indicated the door. The foreman leapt up with relief off the delicate chair and scuttled out. Daniel sank back into his own chair and sighed with relief.

“Not so soon. I do not think it will work as well as you do. And that man heard nothing, he agreed to nothing. And you are so used to being deferred to, you did not notice. You must realise not everyone is hanging on your every word. You are not all that special in the world, you know. Special to me and to Eloise, but not to that foreman. You are simply his means to an end, his children must eat and you have the money. Simple. But you must share it more fairly.”

“So this will be fairer. I think they will be pleased.” Daniel leant over and shut the ledgers.
Jotin sighed.

“He did not hear you. You did not hear me. I wish you would listen more.”

Daniel went to the door. It was very hot, nearly midday. Just time for a cooling drink before lunch.

September stayed hot and heavy. There were morning mists now, rolling in from the estuary and bringing the salty tang of the marshes. Daniel watched the grapes anxiously, for signs of the mould that would spoil his wine, but the days were dry and the grapes ripened well. It was a quiet time on the estate as they waited, hoping the grapes would mature enough before the inevitable storm that would end the sunshine. On the marshes the collection of salt continued, the evaporation a little slower now because of the shorter days and morning mists. But not many workers were needed for the vines during this waiting time, and now that Daniel had been alerted to their dissatisfaction, he imagined he could hear the grumbles of those he had not hired. Not all of them had concessions on the salt-marshes, and for the first time he found himself wondering how they fed themselves during these slack times.

“They often do not,” said Eloise when he asked her.

“What do you mean?”

Eloise looked at him, and shook her head. “Just that. If you have no food and no money, you do not eat. The neighbours help if they can. But they do not often have much to spare.”

“Did you have enough to eat?” Daniel looked at his attractive curvy wife and found it impossible to imagine her starving. Though come to think of it, she had not been so plump when they met.

“I always had something. But mostly not enough, never enough. Well, enough to stop you dying, but not enough to fill your belly. I do not think anyone in the village knows what it is to eat enough. You always want more. We were luckier than most. My father collects salt and has some small crops from the edges of the marsh; and my mother has a goat so we often had a little milk, and now and then the kid, of course. But we had to share that with the man who owns a billy, because he made the next kid.” She fell silent, remembering the time she had gone with her older brother to bring the goat to visit the billygoat. A long walk to the village of Jau, but a good day.

“Same as us. We have to pay for the bull.” Daniel was thoughtful. “But of course, a calf can grow bigger, so there is more meat; and we are a smaller family, so we can sell some.”

“In the village, there is never anything to spare. Only the men get money - from what they can sell, like the salt. But the nuns take half as rent and the taxman takes most of the rest. If there are surplus crops they can be sold, but that is rare. Nobody can sell the piquette: who would buy it? After all, that is why you give it away, it has no value. You would pour it away after rinsing the vats, except that it has a little flavour.”

“They like it, otherwise why would they do the work? It tastes good, I drink it too sometimes. Anyway, I think we will invite the wives and families to the harvest supper this year. I think we will have a little good news for them, so it would be good to give them a pleasant evening too.”

“That would be kind, Monsieur. I hope we do have good news. I do not like this weather, it is too warm, maybe it is too good to last.”

Luckily Eloise was wrong. The weather lasted through the harvest, which was one of the best Daniel could remember. The crushing of grapes started at once and spirits were high. On the day of the fête Eloise helped in the kitchen whenever Marie-Claire would stay quiet, despite the older Madame deVrac’s extreme disapproval. She enjoyed it too much to stay away pretending to be a real lady, even though that would have been ‘more suitable’. Several women came up from the village to help, so there was great merriment in the kitchen and despite the heat tempers stayed cool. The prospect of a large and delicious meal had everyone in good form. There were joints of beef to roast and a large pot was simmering, full of pieces of beef and onions, garlic, beans, herbs and wine. The aroma was heavenly and the temptation to dip a spoon was not being resisted. The hunters had been out, so there were several rabbits and a few hares to make another rich stew. The baker had been working overtime and had delivered several sacks full of large loaves as well as some tempting cakes. The cook was making several dishes of terrine from her own recipe and Pascale was grating stale bread in huge quantities to mix with flour and eggs to make big dumplings to cook in the stews. Several large cheeses had been ordered from the town and delivered last week, they were maturing nicely in the pantry. Everywhere you looked there was food, but you did not even have to look as the smell was everywhere, a new delicious odour came to Eloise’s attention every time she stopped noticing the last one. She stopped for a moment and leant against the door jamb as she came in with more ingredients from the vegetable garden, to feast her eyes on the busy room. I am so lucky, she thought, to be at home here where there is so much, such plenty. I am blessed. What did I do to deserve such wealth?

“Nothing in particular, this time. You are able to share, to help Daniel see that things can change a bit, that it should be fairer. And because your energies work so well together you are succeeding, he is hearing you and maybe this small corner of the world will become more equitable. I just wish you could share some of it with me. Judging by all your behaviours, that food is a real pleasure to the senses.” Trynor was thoughtful for a moment. “I should take another body sometime, to get a taste of that food.”