convent.”
Lawrence snapped his mouth shut to avoid the expletive that came to mind.
There were two types of so-called traveling nuns. The first type were women in a church-sanctioned mendicant order that nonetheless lacked a fixed base of operations. The second type were totally self-styled, unattached to any Church organization.
Such self-proclaimed itinerant nuns made up the greater part of the group, and they referred to themselves as such simply for the convenience it afforded them while traveling. Since they were not officially attached to any Church organization, they were not disallowed from marriage the way true nuns are.
Amati knew Holo was a self-styled nun, so it was too late to arrange any sort of pretense with a convent now.
Amati continued speaking, his voice smooth and confident. “It is in truth not my desire to propose a contract to you thus, Mr. Lawrence. No doubt everyone here thinks me like Philip the Third from the tale of Haschmidt the Knight. However, according to Kumersun law, when a woman is indebted, her creditor is considered to be her guardian. Of course—”
Amati paused, clearing his throat, then continued, “If you will unconditionally assent to my proposal of marriage, there is no need for this contract.”
This sort of rare competition over a woman made for the best drinking stories.
The assembled merchants spoke in low tones as they watched the developing drama.
Most experienced merchants would not take Lawrence and Holo's relationship at face value. It would have been the height of naiveté to think that an indebted nun was really paying off her obligation by praying for her creditor as they traveled. It was much more likely that she didn’t want to be sold off by whoever held her debt or that she was traveling with him simply because she wanted to.
Amati certainly realized this and undoubtedly thought it was the former.
Freeing the poor, beautiful maiden from the bonds of debt was a moral imperative that justified this ridiculous display of gallantry, Amati must have felt.
And even if he didn’t think this, Lawrence still came away looking like the villain.
“Mr. Lawrence, will you accept this contract dagger?”
The merchants looked on, grinning silently.
The traveling merchant was about to lose his fetching companion to the young fishmonger out of sheer inattentiveness.
It made for rare entertainment—and there was no acceptable way for Lawrence to escape.
His only option was to best Amati by being the nobler man.
In any case, he didn’t believe that if Holo's debt were paid she would stop traveling with him just because Amati told her to.
“I am not so careless to agree to a contract I have not read,”
Lawrence said.
Amati nodded, withdrawing the knife and extending the contract to Lawrence.
Lawrence walked toward Amati, watched by everyone in the room, and took the parchment, scanning its contents quickly.
As he expected, what was written there was a more tortuously worded version of the declaration Amati had just made.
What Lawrence was most interested in was the amount that Amati proposed to pay.
What had Holo claimed her debt to be?
For Amati to be so brimming with confidence, it had to be a relatively small amount.
Finally, he found the amount in one of the lines of the contract.
For a moment, he doubted his eyes.
One thousand pieces of trenni silver.
Relief washed over him, bodily.
“I assume this contract is to your satisfaction?”
Lawrence checked again, making sure there were no obvious traps hidden in the contracts language. He also looked for any points he might turn to his own advantage.
But the contract language was stiff enough to leave no such room to trip up the first party.
Lawrence had no choice but to return Amati’s contract.
“Understood,” he said, handing the contract back to the boy and looking him in the eye.
Lawrence reached out to grasp the knife, and the contract was sealed.
Every merchant in the hall—and
Lawrence snapped his mouth shut to avoid the expletive that came to mind.
There were two types of so-called traveling nuns. The first type were women in a church-sanctioned mendicant order that nonetheless lacked a fixed base of operations. The second type were totally self-styled, unattached to any Church organization.
Such self-proclaimed itinerant nuns made up the greater part of the group, and they referred to themselves as such simply for the convenience it afforded them while traveling. Since they were not officially attached to any Church organization, they were not disallowed from marriage the way true nuns are.
Amati knew Holo was a self-styled nun, so it was too late to arrange any sort of pretense with a convent now.
Amati continued speaking, his voice smooth and confident. “It is in truth not my desire to propose a contract to you thus, Mr. Lawrence. No doubt everyone here thinks me like Philip the Third from the tale of Haschmidt the Knight. However, according to Kumersun law, when a woman is indebted, her creditor is considered to be her guardian. Of course—”
Amati paused, clearing his throat, then continued, “If you will unconditionally assent to my proposal of marriage, there is no need for this contract.”
This sort of rare competition over a woman made for the best drinking stories.
The assembled merchants spoke in low tones as they watched the developing drama.
Most experienced merchants would not take Lawrence and Holo's relationship at face value. It would have been the height of naiveté to think that an indebted nun was really paying off her obligation by praying for her creditor as they traveled. It was much more likely that she didn’t want to be sold off by whoever held her debt or that she was traveling with him simply because she wanted to.
Amati certainly realized this and undoubtedly thought it was the former.
Freeing the poor, beautiful maiden from the bonds of debt was a moral imperative that justified this ridiculous display of gallantry, Amati must have felt.
And even if he didn’t think this, Lawrence still came away looking like the villain.
“Mr. Lawrence, will you accept this contract dagger?”
The merchants looked on, grinning silently.
The traveling merchant was about to lose his fetching companion to the young fishmonger out of sheer inattentiveness.
It made for rare entertainment—and there was no acceptable way for Lawrence to escape.
His only option was to best Amati by being the nobler man.
In any case, he didn’t believe that if Holo's debt were paid she would stop traveling with him just because Amati told her to.
“I am not so careless to agree to a contract I have not read,”
Lawrence said.
Amati nodded, withdrawing the knife and extending the contract to Lawrence.
Lawrence walked toward Amati, watched by everyone in the room, and took the parchment, scanning its contents quickly.
As he expected, what was written there was a more tortuously worded version of the declaration Amati had just made.
What Lawrence was most interested in was the amount that Amati proposed to pay.
What had Holo claimed her debt to be?
For Amati to be so brimming with confidence, it had to be a relatively small amount.
Finally, he found the amount in one of the lines of the contract.
For a moment, he doubted his eyes.
One thousand pieces of trenni silver.
Relief washed over him, bodily.
“I assume this contract is to your satisfaction?”
Lawrence checked again, making sure there were no obvious traps hidden in the contracts language. He also looked for any points he might turn to his own advantage.
But the contract language was stiff enough to leave no such room to trip up the first party.
Lawrence had no choice but to return Amati’s contract.
“Understood,” he said, handing the contract back to the boy and looking him in the eye.
Lawrence reached out to grasp the knife, and the contract was sealed.
Every merchant in the hall—and
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