The Stone of Virtue

The sun peeked over the horizon as Rose made her way into town. Morning dew clung to the grass, but already the scent of warm earth hung in the air. She passed people here and there, some collecting eggs from rickety coops, others trying not to slosh buckets of milk on the ground before getting them inside. No one spoke or offered so much as a nod in her direction.

They never did.

“It makes folks uneasy,” Leon once said. “She stands there staring and doesn’t say a word.”

Nilah suggested they keep her in the house, but Leon said if she was to stay she’d have to work and that meant going out.

“She’ll just have to be taught to behave,” he’d sneered.

And she was, vigorously. For years, Rose moved through her days silently avoiding eye contact with those around her for fear of Leon’s teaching. No one bothered asking why she never spoke, or even if she could. When you have nothing, there are some things you choose to keep to yourself.

She walked the packed dirt road toward the center of the village. In a drying puddle to the side of the path sat a ring of toadstools, a fairy ring. Most would fear being transported into a fairy world, but as Rose looked at the circle she was tempted to step inside. What would a fairy world be like? Surely it couldn’t be worse than this one. As she started to walk away, she couldn’t pull her eyes from the misshapen circle. She held her breath, bracing for what she both feared and hoped would happen. Closing her eyes, she stepped into the ring.

She waited to feel something. A tugging of her body into another realm or a tingle as magic entered her body.

Nothing happened. Her heart sank. Rose sighed as she stepped out. Oh well, it was beautiful even if it wasn’t made by magic.

The market was nearly empty when Rose reached the small city center. Only two or three merchants were open for business. Rose liked it that way.

Passing the mercer’s stall, the brightly colored fabric swayed in the summer breeze. They’d never sell here. He shouldn’t have wasted the time to unload them from his wagon. Flashy colors never sold in Tenneghel. In the clothes, homes, and even the hair and eyes of its citizens the village was a drab sea of brown and tan. Occasionally a child was born with golden blond hair, but as they grew up their hair darkened to the same muddy shade as everyone else’s—except for Rose. In the whole of Tenneghel, she’d never met another person with red hair or green eyes.

Someone cleared their throat loudly, interrupting her thoughts.

“Now, now,” a heavy woman said pushing her way past. “I know ya ain’t right in the head, but even you know not to dawdle in the middle of the street. Horse n’ buggy comes and squish.” She twisted her fat hands together, “That’s the end of Nilah and Leon’s burden.” The woman threw her head back, her jowls jiggling as she laughed. “Get on now an’ finish your chores. If I tell your father you were lollygaggin’ stead of workin’ it’ll be the whip again.”

Rose quickened her pace as the woman continued to chuckle to herself. Near the end of the square Rose found the stall she needed and hurried to fill her basket. When she’d counted out a dozen large eggs, Rose approached the man at the end of the table and extended her basket.

“Nothing else?” he asked. “Got fresh butter and cheese today.”

Rose shook her head.

“Not a word, huh? Still? You can count, you can care for yourself, surely you can talk.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I know you’ve got more goin’ on up there than most think.”

Rose pushed her basket at him again.

The man sighed. “Fine then, keep your secrets. That’s a dozen eggs to Leon’s ledger. Tell him…” He stopped short. “I’ll be sure to settle up with him before the end of the month.”

Rose nodded briefly before turning back the way she’d come. She wondered what the farmer would say if she did speak. He seemed kind enough, but he and Leon had done business for years. She couldn’t be sure he’d keep her talking a secret, or that they wouldn’t be overheard. No matter how much she longed to answer, she couldn’t risk anyone finding out.

The buildings were sparse and infrequent as she moved away from the city’s heart. As her tiny cottage appeared in the distance, hooves beat the ground behind her. She moved to the edge of the road without looking back. Single rider or buggy, there was plenty of room to pass her.

The rhythmic pounding of hooves on earth slowed at it grew louder and nearer, but Rose’s gaze remained forward. The pace crept to a heavy clip-clop.

“Good morning,” a warm voice said.

Rose turned to see a cinnamon brown horse pawing at the ground. The broad shoulders and thick frame of the figure on its back were that of a man, but the rounded cheeks and clean-shaven face belonged to a boy. Fowler, Rose knew, was a little of both.

She looked at him with annoyance, then at the cottage at the top of the hill. She needed to get back before Leon and Nilah woke up.

“I hope I didn’t startle you,” he said.

Rose shook her head.

“Can I give you a ride? Your house is still a ways off, and your basket looks heavy.”

Rose shook her head again.

“Then,” he said with a grunt as he dismounted, “will you let me walk with you?”

She shrugged her shoulders and continued walking.

“I hoped I’d see you at the market today. I know you do your shopping early.”

She looked at him, the sunlight catching faint blonde strands in his earth brown hair. Her brow creased as she looked back to the path in front of her. She was both bothered and intrigued by his familiarity with her schedule. No one cared when or how she did things. Leon and Nilah only cared if her chores where finished and done correctly. The rest of the village ignored anything that concerned her. Her eyes went to the basket in her hand, then to the bruises around her wrist. She hadn’t bothered wearing sleeves today to cover them. They’d been seen before and never mentioned. She was Leon’s property to discipline as he saw fit.

“May I carry that for you,” Fowler offered, one hand already on the handle of her basket.

She glared at him.

“I know you’re not helpless. I’m simply trying to be nice. If my mother knew I let you walk all this way carrying a heavy basket she’d turn over in her grave.”

Rose’s shoulders sank sheepishly as she handed him the basket.

Fowler’s mother had only been gone a few years. Rose remembered the bells in town tolling somberly and Nilah leaving in her nicest black dress. She’d died giving birth to Felix, Fowler’s rambunctious younger brother.

Felix the Terrible, they called him outside of the presence of his father. Chickens and geese all over the village learned to flee at the mere sound of his voice. Many a farmer’s crops had turned to mush under the heavy stomps of Felix, yet no one chided him or even said a word for fear of the boy’s father.

Rose looked around. Where Fowler went Felix was sure to follow. Felix never kept a nanny long, and Rose heard they’d recently lost another.

Fowler caught her gaze. “He’s at home. Still asleep I’d wager. I’m surprised there were eggs to be bought. His boots were milky and caked with shells when he came in yesterday.”

Rose rolled her eyes.

“He’ll outgrow it. It’s hard for him without Mother. You understand that don’t you?”

Rose nodded. In a way, she could understand a boy without his mother acting out, but she knew Fowler’s love for the child clouded his judgment.

“And Father always pays for the damage he does, if he’s told about it.”

Rose scoffed. She was surprised anyone ever went to Fletcher about it.

Fletcher was a man of wealth who’d married a woman of greater wealth. When his wife died, he’d become the sole owner of more than half the farmland in Tenneghel. It wasn’t wise to anger the man who held the lease to the very land you lived on.

“Besides,” he said, “he’s not really hurting anyone.”

Before his lips closed on the last word a muddy-haired boy leapt from the bushes at the roadside.

Felix’s nose crinkled as he smiled wickedly, causing his freckles to bunch together. With an impish cry he bounded toward them, his dark eyes fixed on the basket in his brother’s hand, his mind bent on destruction.

“No!” Fowler’s voice was stern but wary. “Felix, stop!”

But it was too late. He moved to lift the basket out of the child’s reach just as the strike came, knocking the eggs and basket to the ground. In a flurry of grunts and stomps the boy reduced her groceries to a puddle of muck.

Rose grit her teeth and exhaled heavily. As she looked at Fowler, the heat of her anger radiating from her face.

“I’m sorry,” he said half laughing. “It’s only eggs. I’ll replace them.”

She shook her head, looking at the sun creeping just above the tree line. Leon and Nilah would be up soon.

“It’ll only take a moment,” he said. “We’ll go back and I’ll replace the basket and the eggs. Let me fix it.” He offered his hand.

She looked at it doubtfully, trying to slow her breathing. She knew what it would mean if Leon and Nilah awoke before she returned. Even worse, however, is what would happen if she returned without the eggs. Adding a second dozen eggs and a basket to Leon’s account was out of the question. She had no choice but to let Fowler help.

“Rose!” Someone shouted.

Her heart pounding in her throat, she turned to see Leon standing just over the crest of the hill that led to their cottage. Tears stung her eyes as her gaze instantly went to the whip slung over his shoulder. With a final pleading look back at Fowler, she scurried briskly up the hill.