The Lode Stone Page 7

  “I am only going to my quarry. It is a short ride.” I smiled to ease the stubbornness in my voice. “But if it will ease your mind, I will have my stable boy ride with me in future.” I would do no such thing, I thought. It was enough that the quarry workers saw me humiliated by my overseer without everyone in my household learning of it from a wide-eyed, loose-tongued stable boy.

  “A stable boy?” Lord Roland looked down at me from Simon’s huge horse. “You are a wealthy woman now, Melisende,” he said quietly. “There are many who would kidnap you for ransom, or worse. You must not ride alone, nor expect a mere stable boy to protect you.”

  “I am not going far,” I repeated, but his words and the tone of his voice gave me pause. I remembered the only daughter of a wealthy townsman, a wool merchant, had been kidnapped a year ago. Her brother, riding with her, had been slain and she had been forced into marriage with the son of a rival merchant also in the wool trade. Once she was bedded she had no choice but to remain in the union, for the marriage had been consummated. I shivered despite the warm autumn day.

  “You are going to the quarry?” Lord Roland asked.

  “Yes, to my quarry.” I forgot all hint of danger in a flash of annoyance. “The overseer will not show me his records. He makes one excuse after another.” It was out before I thought. I bit my tongue. This was my battle, and after the way I had last treated Lord Roland he was unlikely to be sympathetic.

  “I will ride with you,” he offered. “We will speak to the overseer together. He has been his own master too long.”

  “I thank you, Lord Roland,” I said a little stiffly. I was flattered by his concern and grateful for his company but not entirely sure I wanted his interference in my business.

  “It is nothing,” he said.

  My tone had insulted him. But not enough to make him leave me in what he thought was danger. We rode side-by-side in silence.

  He was as good as his word and escorted me to the overseer. This time the man made no remarks for the amusement of his men, but watched us approach in frowning silence and accompanied us inside the building with a gracious wave and a slight bob of his head.

  When I asked once again to see the previous year’s accounting, the overseer spread his hands with a condescending smile. “Madame would rather leave all that to me, I am sure. The business is quite complicated, especially for one not used to dealing with figures.” He turned to Lord Roland with a man-to-man smirk.

  Lord Roland did not return his sardonic smile. “Your new mistress has asked to see the records for her quarry,” he said coolly. “I am certain you will be able to explain them to her. If not, I am here to assist.”

  For the rest of the afternoon we looked at slips of paper and illegible receipts, trying to follow his reckoning which became more and more disordered the more questions I asked.

  “He is cheating me,” I said to Lord Roland as we rode away, his guards following at a discrete distance.

  “He is. What will you do about it?”

  I had not got there yet. I had been hoping Roland would disagree, would convince me that the mess we had been shown somehow made sense. I bit my tongue and considered. “I will have to fire him.” My voice rose at the end so that it came out more like a question than a decision.

  “Find his replacement first.”

  This was exactly what I had feared. How was I to find a competent overseer who understood the business of a quarry and would not cheat me in my ignorance?

  “I suppose you have not had the other merchants in town to dinner yet?”

  I looked at him in surprise. “Why would I—” The answer was there before I finished the question. To talk business, to learn about competent men wanting work whom I could trust. That was what a man would do. And what I could not do. Even if I had lavish dinners, which I could not afford, they would not talk business at my table in front of their wives, nor would they talk to a widow without their wives—about business.

  But I had grown up with these workers, my father and then my husband was the blacksmith they came to. I did not need to talk to the merchants. “I know just the man,” I said. “He works at the quarry, trains the new men, determines where to dig to fill an order, and he knows his figures, his father taught him.”

  “Does he know how to find buyers? How to negotiate a fair price for your stones?”

  “I will do that.” The words were out before I considered the difficulties I would encounter. “With him,” I added.

  “I will assist you, if you would like,” Roland offered.

  “Yes. Yes, I would.” This time I had no reservations accepting his help for I saw he had no intention of undermining my authority.

  “And I will find you a man who knows how to fight, to ride with you.”

  I opened my mouth to object, thinking, another wage to pay, but the thought of that merchant’s daughter in her unhappy marriage silenced me.

  Chapter Nine: A Fine Businesswoman

  I owed a great deal to Roland, I thought, reigning my horse back into an easy canter to appease my guardsman. He was one of Lord Roland’s men, a large, quiet fellow named Lucien. I paid him and housed him with my servants, but I knew he still answered to Roland and God help him if anything should happen to me. That I gathered from the look on his face whenever I pressed my horse into a gallop and briefly outstripped him. Briefly, for he would not let me ride ahead of him for long. I smiled at the thought of Roland’s concern as Lucien caught up with me.

  I broke from the woods and pulled to a halt, taking a moment to survey my quarry, noting the bustle of the workers. A few of them turned to nod at me. I had adopted the habit of coming by every two or three days now that the old overseer was gone.

  He had not gone quietly. Since he continued to make disparaging comments about me in front of the men, I had decided to fire him publicly. The men needed to see me stand up to him. He had stared gap-mouthed as I counted out his final pay and ordered him off my land, then loudly told me I had no authority over him, he had been hired by Lord Barnard and only the new Lord could order him gone. In front of the men I held up the writ that gave me ownership of the quarry and read it aloud. I had brought Lord Roland as witness. He stood at the door of the small wooden building that served as the office, barring the entrance in case the overseer took it into his head to enter and destroy any of the quarry’s documents, including our current contract. By the time he left amid a stream of invectives I was shaking, but I took care that no one should notice.

  Before the dust of his horse’s hooves had settled, I had called Jean-Louis into the office and asked him to be my new overseer.

  Jean-Louis and I had had to let go a handful of men whom we knew to be loafers and malcontents, using the old overseer’s dismissal as an opportunity to stir up discontent. But the overseer had not been well-liked and the loss of his cronies soon after him was greeted by most as a good thing. Within a few weeks the men were working contentedly under Jean-Louis’ direction.

  I dismounted and approached the office building. Jean-Louis met me at the door, having seen me arrive while he was over at the cliff.

  I commended him on the industriousness of his workers. On my last visit I had discovered him helping three of his men break free a large boulder from the quarry cliff. I was pleased to know he was the sort of overseer who would not hesitate to get his own hands dirty. I had raised his pay that day; only a little, but enough to let him know what I valued. I could not afford to be too generous this first year.

  “Good day, Madame.” Jean-Louis unlocked the door and bowed to me formally as he waited for me to enter first. His father had been my father’s friend; he had known me since I was a child, but he had insisted on this behavior when anyone else was around to observe. “They will take their cue from me, at least in part,” he had said. I would have to fully win their respect myself, but Jean-Louis was right: this was where it must start.

  My mother called it play-acting and sent his mother and his wife a chicken for
their table every so often to remind them of our families’ long-standing friendship. I approved of the gesture despite our tight circumstances, for I did not forget that his mother had had me do her laundry when they could ill afford either the money or the risk of offending Lord Charles. Neither of us ever spoke of that. It was not for his family, but for his own sake that I had hired Jean-Louis as my overseer. He was smart, capable, and hard-working; the men already knew and respected him; and he knew the work of a quarry. I was well-satisfied with my choice, for in the first month of his management the daily quota of cut stones had increased.

  As soon as the door was shut behind us, I motioned him to sit at the table across from me. “The men are grateful for their breaks,” he said. I had urged him to initiate a brief water break mid-morning and mid-afternoon for all the men, as well as their lunch break. Although I had suggested it come from him, he had insisted on telling them it was my order. These were village men, my neighbors at one time, he had argued. There was bound to be some resentment at my change from their neighbor to their mistress. I must be seen as a firm mistress, willing to fire those who did not work, but could not afford to be an unkind one.

  “They are not taking advantage, lingering at their rest?”

  “One or two the first day.” He smiled. “I shortened their mid-day dinner break to compensate. They took it in good grace, even the laughter of their fellows, and did not linger again. They are good men. They return from their brief rest and work all the harder. I believe we will see at the end of this month that production has increased once again.”

  “So we are keeping up with our contract, despite the dozen men we let go?”

  “More than keeping up. We have delivered this day’s stones to Lord Etienne and have tomorrow’s and half the next day’s cut and piled ready to go.” He paused, until I looked up at him. “This morning Master Jacques—he owns a vineyard to the south—came to speak with me. He has tilled another hill ready to plant new vines and wants the stones to wall it.”

  “We are contracted to Lord Etienne for four years. The extra stones are our assurance that we will be able to fulfill our obligation.” The quarry could flood, the men be struck down with summer fever... Lord Charles’ dire predictions came back to me. The penalty for not meeting our daily quota was severe. Every day Lord Etienne’s builders waited on our shipment, we were obliged to pay their wages. One month without stone and the contract was void; nor would Lord Etienne be obliged to pay any outstanding fees for the stones he had received. We encouraged him to keep his account paid up to date, but it was a tricky thing for a commoner to demand payment of a lord—even more so if the commoner was a woman. Lord Roland had accompanied me once when I had had to talk to Lord Etienne about his outstanding payment for the stones building his new castle, but I did not want to ask for Roland’s help too often. We had received that payment, but Lord Etienne had not paid us yet for last month or for this. That was the way of it. No penalty to a lord for being late, but if we were a month late with our stones, we would be ruined.

  “I believe the risk of falling behind is small, and one that we should take.” Jean-Louis rose from his seat and lifted down the box with our accounts. He took out the ledger in which he recorded our finances and deliveries. His father, a successful merchant, had taught him to keep accurate books, but it had taken him several weeks to get the accounts for my quarry in order. When he did, he had called me in to show me a number of inconsistencies over the past four and a half years, beginning when Lord Barnard left for the crusades. We had discussed charging the old overseer, but he had long since fled and I did not want to begin my ownership of the quarry with a costly court order for money I could not hope to receive. At least the ledger was accurate now and proved that the loss occurred before I took ownership of the quarry.

  I leaned forward as Jean-Louis opened the ledger. I was good with figures, fortunately. My father had taught me to keep a reckoning of his blacksmith’s earnings and the money owed him. My mother had taught me to be careful at market and to tally what I thought I needed against what I could buy. The numbers were bigger now, but the practice was the same.

  Jean-Louis showed me his records for the past month of our daily output of cut stones against those needed for Lord Etienne, and those Master Jacques would require for his wall. “If we should fall behind for some unforeseen reason, the payment we would have already received from Master Jacques would enable us to hire additional workers. And Master Jacques is not a lord,” he added. “If he does not pay on time, we would be able to stop sending his stones.”

  I nodded. “If Master Jacques is satisfied with our stones, we may receive other orders...” I left it there. Jean-Louis knew what I was thinking. It was one thing for Lord Barnard to sign contracts with his peers, quite another for us to fulfil them. Jean-Louis and I would both be pleased to get the word out that the fine limestone from our quarry was available to non-gentry.

  “I will have Master Jacques in to discuss the details of the contract,” Jean-Louis said.

  ***

  Despite Jean-Louis’ assurances I began to worry the minute that second contract was sealed. Word would get out soon enough, and those who were already waiting for me to fail would rub their hands in satisfaction. I had bitten off more than I could chew, they would say; it was only a matter of time. Each time I rode to the quarry I looked anxiously at the pile of cut stones. Would it be sufficient? Would I have to hire more workers? How would I pay them? I kept my concerns to myself, reminding myself that any venture required risks.

  Maman saw through me. “When your father rented the blacksmith’s house and the smithy beside it, I worried day and night,” she told me. “The rent was so high. Would it ruin us? But then word got around. Your father was a good ironsmith and a fair man. People trusted him. And then Lady Celeste’s horse threw a shoe while she was riding through town and she led it to your father’s smithy... Well, we do not know precisely when Lady Celeste’s horse lost its shoe. She has always had a way of knowing who needed a little support, and finding a way to give it.”

  “That was what saved you?” I asked nervously.

  “No, my dear. It was hard work, and honest, fair dealings, and faith. For every person who wants to see you fail in order to justify his own lack of success, there are four who want to see you succeed—one who knew your father and one who knew your husband and one who knows Jean-Louis and one who knows you. If you slip they will catch you if they can.”

  “Only two families stood by me when I angered Lord Charles. Only two kept me doing their laundry.”

  “Ah, but the others came to me quietly with a penny or two, whatever they could spare, to put aside for when the rent was due on your cottage.”

  “I never knew!” I cried. “You never told me.”

  “I waited to see if you would dig yourself out of the mess you made, and I was right.”

  “And if I had not?”

  “Then the money was there.”

  “I was terrified! My children were hungry!”

  “I fed you your dinners. And a little worry makes a person wiser.”

  I did not know whether to be angry that she had left me to stew over the effect of my quick tongue or pleased that she had trusted me to overcome difficulty when it seemed I might not. And now she was telling me once again that she believed I would succeed, as she and my father had. I shook my head. “I trust you returned the coins when they were not needed.”

  “I returned twice what was given, with the promise to each of them that they had made a friend in you.”

  “Perhaps I should know the names of those to whom I am obligated.”

  “Oh,” she said carelessly, “I have lost that list. But if someone comes to you for help, they were surely on it.”

  “In that case, a list of those who did not help?”

  “One should never keep such a list. It does no good to anyone.”

  I could get nothing more out of her, but strangely it was enough. My worri
es went away, at least the ones that kept me up at night. And when I found myself worrying as Jean-Louis and I went over the books, I told myself, a little worry makes a person wiser.

  ***

  “There has been some grumbling among the stonecutters,” Jean-Louis told me one day, pushing aside the papers we had been discussing. “They say they are expected to do more work for the same wage.”

  I looked at him, frowning with frustration. Except for Jean-Louis, I had not hired new men to replace those I let go so there was truth in their complaint, but no one was working harder than I as I pushed myself to learn the business. “Who is complaining?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “They must be able to tell me their concerns in confidence.”

  I sighed, but he was right. “Is there anything else?”

  “One of the men came to me today asking for money. His brother was caught poaching in Lord Charles’ woods. If he does not pay the fine he will go to jail.”

  “He knew that when he poached.” I heard the callousness in my voice and could not meet his eyes. “His brother should go to his own employer.”

  “He has no work. His children are hungry.”

  “I cannot afford to hire more men. You keep my accounts, you know that.”

  “I will tell him.”

  “Wait...” I remembered my conversation with Maman. What if this man’s wife had given my mother a penny? “Lend him the money. Dock his pay until he has repaid it, even if it takes a year.” I was ashamed it had taken that memory to persuade me. “Jean-Louis, call the men together. I have been meaning to speak to them.”

  “Now?”

  “It is almost their mid-day break, is it not? They will not mind stopping a little early.”

  When they had gathered silently before me, I had a moment of doubt. Was this another impulsive mistake? I had been considering what I was about to say for a while, but now I wished I had discussed it beforehand with Lord Roland, who often asked me when we met how my quarry was doing, and listened to my answer offering some words of advice or approval. I was glad of the heavy kirtle which hid my trembling legs. The men looked at me expectantly. They wanted more money; would they accept what I was about to offer instead?