Remember me at Midwinter Feast. I will roast a pig in the honor of Luap’s Stronghold.
Sulinarrion
Marshal of Seameadow Grange
To Marshal-General Arianya,
Greetings:
Arñe, I have sad news about your stray. Keris, a small trader, came storming in to complain of her. Leward of Highgate had placed her with him as a laborer, and according to Keris, she ran away, or fainted or something when bandits attacked his wagons. I know Keris of old; we see him in grange-court every few years when he either complains of short weight or gives it. He’s a hasty, hot-tempered man who will cling to a mistaken idea until the nomads build walls. Anyway, he says he fired her on the spot—somewhere in the woods west of Lowfallow, if I can tell by his tirade—and left her there. According to him, she was unwounded, and the bandits were all dead, so perhaps she has made it somewhere else. I asked to talk to his guards, and the senior, a Falkian named Jori, from Marrakai’s domain, told me that she had simply frozen, neither attacking the bandits nor defending herself. He said some of the guards made up a small sum for her, and he gave it to her. He felt bad about it, he said, but he couldn’t leave the wagons. I think it’s the best we could hope for.
I’ve told my yeoman-marshals and my yeomen to keep looking for her, but no one has turned up yet (though they did find a tall blonde thief we’ve seen before; she’s enjoying our hospitality in a different way, awaiting the Duke’s Court.) I told Keris what I thought of him, but it didn’t do much good. He’s so used to covering fear with bluster that he doesn’t want to admit anyone can’t.
I’m sorry I have no better news. On the bright side, we have had an unusually good year in all the eastern bartons, and the grange-lands themselves, and can help those west of us who are short. I’ve heard that some granges can’t make their Hall share; you can see from our rolls that we can help out. I hope to come in sometime next spring—do you still have that dappled gray? I’ll make an offer you can’t refuse.
Sulinarrion
Marshal of Seameadow Grange
To Leward of Highgate Grange
Greetings:
Leward, why on earth did you place Paksenarrion with Keris? You must know what sort of rough clod he is! He came ramping in here complaining of her cowardice, and the dishonesty of Girdsmen, until I nearly hit him on the head to shut him up. Didn’t you warn him that she couldn’t fight? He fired her after a bandit group attacked the wagons and she didn’t defend them. Of course she didn’t defend them. I know plenty of men—some of them, unfortunately, yeomen—who would run like rabbits in an unexpected attack. When I finally got the whole story out of one of his guards, it turns out Keris himself simply fell off his horse and bellowed the whole time. Now she’s disappeared, and Gird alone knows what’s happened to her. Next time you need something handled with delicacy, don’t go to Keris.
Sim Arisson,
Marshal of Lowfallow Grange
To the Marshal-General of Gird
Greetings:
In accordance with your request for information about the whereabouts and welfare of Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter, I am writing you a full report of recent events in this area.
Several weeks ago, I was touring the bartons and was not in Lowfallow for some days. When I returned, the innkeeper of the largest inn called me to attend one of his grooms, who had been badly burned in a barn fire. The short of it is that the innkeeper blamed one of the stablehands for the fire, and claimed she had been in league with two thieves, who had robbed the inn on the night of the fire. I think this person was Paksenarrion, from the description and name given by the innkeeper. Apparently she sought work there a few weeks before the fire, giving her name but no reference to the grange. She worked well, according to Jessim (the innkeeper), and slept in a shed near the kitchen. A few days before the fire he had said she and another stablehand might sleep in the barn, trade being slow. When the fire broke out, the groom discovered her in the barn, with her clothes as much off as on. He could see a candlestick in the midst of the fire. Jessim assumed she’d been whoring, and either set the fire as a distraction for the thieves or made it carelessly. Jessim drove her out that night, being angry, as he said. No one saw her leave town; it was bitter cold and windy, and most were fighting the fire. The next day he reported her description (but not her name, which he had forgotten until I questioned him) to the Duke’s militia, as an accomplice of the thieves.
After I spoke to him, he withdrew the charge, and I have cleared her name with the militia, though I have asked them to look for her, and let me know if they find her. I asked the grange here, and none of the yeomen knew her, or remembered having seen her. I swear to you, Marshal-General, that she did not come to my grange for aid; I would have given it gladly. We found no sign of her in Lowfallow or in the farmland around. You will understand that it took some time to look, for I was afraid she might have been hurt in the fire and unable to travel. I had my yeomen look in every ditch and bramble. We were heartened to find no body, but we did not find her.
I delayed writing you because I hoped to have more certain news. Jessim promised to ask any travelers that came in, and I have spread the word to the distant bartons of my grange. Two days ago, one of my yeomen from Fox Barton reported a stranger living with an old widow in an outlying cottage. By the time we rode there, she was gone, but I am sure it was Paksenarrion.
The old woman is not a Girdsman, but has a name for honesty and hard work. She is a widow (her husband died of fever; he was a woodsman) and supports herself and a crippled daughter with weaving and spinning. At first she did not want to talk about it, but after we convinced her we meant Paksenarrion no harm, she told her tale. It seems that Paksenarrion appeared one morning (she could not be sure of the date, but that it was a clear day after a cloudy one) in her shed. She described her as nearly frozen, half-naked, and hurt. Apparently one leg was injured, for the woman told us she limped for most of the time she stayed there. Anyway, the old woman took her in, mended her clothes, and fed her, though that was hard—which I could well believe, looking around. They found Paksenarrion to be, in their words “gentle—she never said a rough word—” and she seems to have helped them by fetching water, finding wood and breaking it up, and so on. They said she offered to pay for her keep, but the old woman could not use her Finthan coins without walking into Lowfallow to change them—which was too far, she said, in winter. I suppose that means she still has the money you gave her in Fin Panir.
They had hoped she would stay, as she seemed strong to them, but she was unable to spin or weave, though apparently she tried to learn. Without extra help, they could not earn enough to keep three. Paksenarrion decided to leave, although they protested, and she insisted they keep a few Finthan coins. The old woman asked me if I could change one for her in Lowfallow. I told her to keep it; that the grange would aid those who helped Girdsmen. I find that Fox Barton was already providing meat from time to time, but have put these women on the grange rolls. They need someone young and strong to board with them, and learn care of the daughter, who will never walk; we are working on that. In the meantime, I have sent supplies, and an order from the grange for two rugs a year. With your permission, I will name them on the Year Roll. They are not Girdish, but we owe them that.
Anyway, that’s all I could find of Paksenarrion. Before I could extend the search, we had a thaw which left every road a quagmire. I have written neighboring granges, but it seems clear that she is avoiding granges. From the descriptions given by the women and by the innkeeper, I doubt that she will be recognized as anything but a vagrant. However, we will keep watch, and report anything we find.