momentarily.
“What is that tune?” I asked him.
He cocked an eyebrow that was followed by a smile. “You like it?”
Nole groaned and poked around the fire with a crooked stick.
“It’s very pretty. Like a lullaby.”
“He never shuts up.” Remmie dropped to sit opposite me. “It wears on you after a while. Always the same song.”
“What is it?”
Otis looked pleased with my interest. He jumped up and all but flew over to his horse to grab his lute. He then scooted over toward me, sitting so close that I could feel the warmth of his leg through our clothing as it touched mine.
He strummed a few chords.
His companions groaned. James looked as though he very well could have been contemplating murder.
“Now you’ve done it.” Roland smirked playfully.
I found Otis’s excitement, and their annoyance, amusing. I stifled a giggle. With Otis occupied, Roland took over tending the meat, turning it methodically every few minutes or so while it hung suspended from a spit over the open flame.
Otis began to sing along to the perfectly plucked chords. It was then that I realized why the men were so set against him singing. He sounded worse than my friend Anne when she had tackled childbirth several months before. Pained and hoarse. A sound that would justify a man cutting off his own ears. His music and his humming spoke to my soul, but his singing made me wish for an early death.
I did not add to the insults the men threw at him like a barrage of arrows. Instead, I listened painfully to his words and committed them to memory. Oh, how he loved to sing. He seemed to have no idea how awful he sounded and continued even after the men began throwing sticks at him, but the smile never left his face. In fact, his smile grew wider.
James grumbled under his breath.
Otis’s happiness was complete and infectious. Once I committed the song’s words to memory, I sang right along with him. I might have been tone deaf too for all I knew, but anyone who’d heard me sing before had been quick to compliment me, and so I figured if he played and I sang, we could both enjoy the music and maybe the men might not give him such a hard time. His smile faded and his nimble fingers slowed to a stop. Perhaps I was just as tone deaf as he was.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I…”
“No. Continue,” he urged, and then resumed playing. The song was about love and loss and being hopelessly unable to separate the two. It brought tears to my eyes as I immediately thought of my family and how I might never see them again. How they might figure me for dead and never have the knowledge if I lived or died. Never have closure.
After the last of the chords poured from his fingers, he stared at me, his mouth open, just a fraction. What was he thinking? I looked around the circle to see the rest of the savages staring at me as well, mouths slack.
“Did I do something wrong?” Immediately I looked to Roland who, with his massive hands, gently patted my back.
“Not at all. We aren’t often blessed with a voice such as yours. It is a very beautiful song, and it has finally been given justice.”
I looked away, trying to hide my embarrassment as heat pooled in my cheeks.
“Sing another. I will follow your lead,” Otis told me. And so I did. They must have liked it because they forgot all about the meat. It ended up charred and tasted of soot, but no one commented about it, save James.
“Would any of you mind if I washed?” I asked after I’d finished eating.
“I’d be glad to accompany her.” The corners of James’s mouth settled into an evil-looking grin.
I made a face, praying the men would know better than to leave me alone with such a lecherous man.
“We should all wash up. It’s been days,” Roland said, saving me, whether this was his intention or not.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then panic resurfaced. Did they mean for us to all bathe together? James was no gentleman, but weren’t the others?
“Is there something
“What is that tune?” I asked him.
He cocked an eyebrow that was followed by a smile. “You like it?”
Nole groaned and poked around the fire with a crooked stick.
“It’s very pretty. Like a lullaby.”
“He never shuts up.” Remmie dropped to sit opposite me. “It wears on you after a while. Always the same song.”
“What is it?”
Otis looked pleased with my interest. He jumped up and all but flew over to his horse to grab his lute. He then scooted over toward me, sitting so close that I could feel the warmth of his leg through our clothing as it touched mine.
He strummed a few chords.
His companions groaned. James looked as though he very well could have been contemplating murder.
“Now you’ve done it.” Roland smirked playfully.
I found Otis’s excitement, and their annoyance, amusing. I stifled a giggle. With Otis occupied, Roland took over tending the meat, turning it methodically every few minutes or so while it hung suspended from a spit over the open flame.
Otis began to sing along to the perfectly plucked chords. It was then that I realized why the men were so set against him singing. He sounded worse than my friend Anne when she had tackled childbirth several months before. Pained and hoarse. A sound that would justify a man cutting off his own ears. His music and his humming spoke to my soul, but his singing made me wish for an early death.
I did not add to the insults the men threw at him like a barrage of arrows. Instead, I listened painfully to his words and committed them to memory. Oh, how he loved to sing. He seemed to have no idea how awful he sounded and continued even after the men began throwing sticks at him, but the smile never left his face. In fact, his smile grew wider.
James grumbled under his breath.
Otis’s happiness was complete and infectious. Once I committed the song’s words to memory, I sang right along with him. I might have been tone deaf too for all I knew, but anyone who’d heard me sing before had been quick to compliment me, and so I figured if he played and I sang, we could both enjoy the music and maybe the men might not give him such a hard time. His smile faded and his nimble fingers slowed to a stop. Perhaps I was just as tone deaf as he was.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I…”
“No. Continue,” he urged, and then resumed playing. The song was about love and loss and being hopelessly unable to separate the two. It brought tears to my eyes as I immediately thought of my family and how I might never see them again. How they might figure me for dead and never have the knowledge if I lived or died. Never have closure.
After the last of the chords poured from his fingers, he stared at me, his mouth open, just a fraction. What was he thinking? I looked around the circle to see the rest of the savages staring at me as well, mouths slack.
“Did I do something wrong?” Immediately I looked to Roland who, with his massive hands, gently patted my back.
“Not at all. We aren’t often blessed with a voice such as yours. It is a very beautiful song, and it has finally been given justice.”
I looked away, trying to hide my embarrassment as heat pooled in my cheeks.
“Sing another. I will follow your lead,” Otis told me. And so I did. They must have liked it because they forgot all about the meat. It ended up charred and tasted of soot, but no one commented about it, save James.
“Would any of you mind if I washed?” I asked after I’d finished eating.
“I’d be glad to accompany her.” The corners of James’s mouth settled into an evil-looking grin.
I made a face, praying the men would know better than to leave me alone with such a lecherous man.
“We should all wash up. It’s been days,” Roland said, saving me, whether this was his intention or not.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then panic resurfaced. Did they mean for us to all bathe together? James was no gentleman, but weren’t the others?
“Is there something
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