WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Malfoid

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◈ Fragments of Thorns and a Cradle ◈

Chapter 33

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"Marie."

Ella's voice called. The graceful woman with pink eyes looked at Marie anxiously. The expression gave Marie a strange feeling. If she stumbled once, if she relaxed and leaned on her friend, she felt she would burst into tears there.

Perhaps she would have cried if they were alone, but Marie did not want to cry at such an event. Crying among female slaves in similar situations and sobbing in public were entirely different matters.

"What happened?"

Ella asked. Marie blinked slowly and looked down at her own dress. Ella waited for her answer with a frustrated face.

"It happened. It has been a while, Ella."

Marie smiled faintly at her friend in greeting. For a while, they exchanged news. They spoke of their children growing up and small things that had happened in their households. Marie had little to tell, but Ella always had many stories.

As far as Marie knew, Ella's life was richer than that of other female slaves. There were no elders whose moods she had to watch. No master's wife who made her act half-dead whenever they met. At least Ella's man did not spare his love for her.

Endymion did not spare his affection for Marie either. Without a trace of fear, he did not hesitate to indulge her. Yet Marie was unhappy. She could not smile brightly as Ella did.

"Oh."

A high exclamation sounded. Marie immediately closed her lips. She hunched her shoulders by habit and stepped a little away from Ella. She erased the smile she had finally managed and lowered her head.

"Is that child the marchioness's maid?"

Ella's face stiffened. Marie's cheeks reddened, and the skin beneath her eyes trembled.

"Yes. That is Marie."

"Ah. So that child is Marie."

Henrietta's voice sounded behind her. Marie bit her lip as though enduring pressure against her body. When Ella tentatively reached out to hold Marie's arm, Marie curled in on herself with a start.

"Marie."

"I am all right."

"Shall we go somewhere else?"

Marie shook her head instead of audibly saying no. Ella stared at her. Marie endured dizziness. Her friend's face blurred, then became clear again. She thought of Agnes, the mother she could barely remember.

How many times had her mother gone through this? How had she endured? A female slave had many obligations. Bearing slander was one of them. Even if Endymion did not wish it, Marie thought it was something she must endure. Since she enjoyed luxuries and leisure beyond her station, she had no right to feel wronged.

But Marie was still unskilled at enduring it all. She could not regain her senses before those who regarded her as filthy simply because she existed, simply because she had appeared here.

"A concubine..."

A contemptuous voice sounded at her ear, as if the speaker found the word itself filthy. Marie stroked her belly, trying to calm the pounding pulse of a frightened child.

"But was it deliberate that she wore a dress similar to the marchioness's?"

It was an accusation she had expected. Marie thought Henrietta might have deliberately left only this dress for that reason. Her lips moved. She had put on the dress as though cutting her own wrist.

Today was the third time she had worn it. The first was at her vow ceremony with Endymion, and the second was at his twenty-seventh birthday. Since Endymion had worn the tailcoat Marie had sewn for that birthday banquet, he likely meant the same thing today as he had then, a vow with Marie.

Endymion wanted to look like Marie's husband, not Henrietta's. It was his sole desire. An unfulfilled desire held by a man born with everything in his hands.

But Marie did not want to dance to his tune. The more he obsessed over her, the more she wanted to stand apart from him.

"If it were not deliberate, how could they be so similar?"

"The marchioness must be suffering greatly. How unfortunate that such a girl tends the marquess's bed..."

"I am worried that the banquet will be ruined because that child entered it."

Each woman expressed concern and pity for Henrietta.

"Has it not already been ruined? The atmosphere is not good. Even the banners on the ceiling..."

Someone pointed at the banners and tapestries hanging from the ceiling, looking over the women who had prepared the banquet with Henrietta, including Lady Doljea. Lady Doljea merely fanned herself with an unreadable expression and turned her eyes elsewhere.

"The banners really are in poor condition. And the Gwendel coat of arms is slightly different."

"Yes. The Star of Troiad is missing. This was the design used fifty years ago. Who would..."

The noblewomen looked in surprise at the seal on its blue background. A grand golden eagle displayed its majesty with claws sharp as a lion's talons.

As they remembered, the Gwendel family banquets had been as dignified as they were splendid until last year. The banners and tapestries had been especially excellent, appearing to have been made by artisans so skilled that the royal family might commission them.

Though the design was set, they had assumed every piece of embroidery would look much the same unless it was made by an exceptional artisan. Yet the Gwendel family had prepared magnificent banquets without inviting outside talent.

Every detail, from the dinnerware to the flowers decorating the tables, suited the banquet's purpose and atmosphere. For a high-ranking family, their gatherings displayed a young, refined taste discussed even among younger noblewomen.

The Gwendel family held relatively few banquets. When they did, they were small gatherings for only a few families close to them, so the nobles who received invitations were very limited.

That was why people had dressed carefully and attended with particular effort. They had spent a long time preparing, as it was difficult to be invited. Yet...

'What is this?'

It was laughably ridiculous and childish. This was the birthday banquet for Lucrezia, the family's eldest and most honored member, yet not one piece of dinnerware matched another. The tapestries were absurd, and the tablecloths unsuitable. Even the mistress's dress looked unfashionable.

It was clearly made of expensive silk and adorned only with large jewels. Yet it did not suit Henrietta and looked awkward. Surely it could not all have come from Henrietta's hands. The female slave must have arranged something behind the scenes.

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