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townsenddecades · 2 months ago

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1333 – Day 2 – Townsend Farm (3/3)

Amye knows her father doesn’t like sending her to the tavern alone, but with him, Malcolm and their mother busy, Adeline even younger than her and Hawise still frail, she can’t help but point out that there is no other option. Not if they want to hire the labourers they need.

Amye doesn’t mind, really. If anything, she is glad to get away from the desolate scene at home. They are still mourning her grandfather and little nephew and grappling with losing their home like that. They may be making progress, but everyone is still terribly anxious.

Truth be told, so is she. They may be rebuilding their home now, but what if another fire consumes it all over again? They still don’t know what started it. It is a small miracle that all of them have come out of this relatively unscathed, but she knows that her parents worry. Next time, they might not be so lucky.

And what if all this rebuilding means that they won’t be able to pay their taxes? Everyone has heard tell of those who default on the lord’s due. They may be imprisoned, or killed, or even thrown back into serfdom in recompense. It is vital that they get back to normal as soon and as cheaply as possible, and that all of them do their part for that. Including her.

She just doesn’t know what to do. In addition to helping rebuild, she spends as much time knitting by candlelight as she can, but the little sleep she gains by that leaves her more exhausted by the day, not helped by the fact that her bed is made up of some blankets on the floor on most nights. And even that isn’t enough! Her parents try to keep it to themselves, but she has overheard them. Their money is quickly running out.

It is probably for this reason that she doesn’t simply retire to her rented room once she has talked the tavern owner about labourers for their farm, and to some of the men he directs her to. He also promises to send any other men that come in looking for work their way. With that, her errant is finished. She should simply go to sleep.

But she can’t bring herself to. After all the tension of the last few days, it is simply too tempting to just lose herself in the raucous chatter of the common room for a while. And the alcohol she is served doesn’t hurt, either. It’s stronger than she anticipated, but she doesn’t mind, especially when she walks around looking for a table and spots a familiar face.

“Sir Silas!”, she calls out and walks over to him. “It seems we are destined to run into each other in taverns.”

He had seemed thoughtful, staring down at the table, and only jerks up at her called-out greeting. “Mistress Amye! So it seems. What are you doing here? Is your father with you?” He looks around, his brow creasing when he can’t spot her father. She quickly shakes her head.

“No, I was sent here on an errant. Alone.” It occurs to her that he might not have heard about their plight yet, so she tells him about the fire, their rebuilding and their need for workers. The lines on his face deepen the more she speaks.

When she finishes, he sighs. “I’m genuinely sorry to hear of your misfortune. How awful. But I’m glad your family survived.”

“We’ve been lucky”, she says, sipping her drink. By now, she is starting to feel tingly. “But what are you doing here?”

“I was on an errant of my own and stopped by to spend the night. I assume you will be doing the same? It is already dark outside.”

She answers in the positive, and for a while, they just sit there talking to each other. Amye has always liked this serious and yet caring knight. The fact that his presence gives her someone to talk to – and a sense of safety – is only a bonus. He tells her about happenings in town and expresses his condolences when he learns that her grandfather passed away shortly before the fire.

Amye eats while they talk and has some more alcohol to wash it down. If nothing else, both it and the company make her feel looser than she even expected. So what if she feels a little unsteady when she gets up to go upstairs?

To her surprise, Sir Silas rises with her. He seems a little startled at it himself.

“I hope you know that your family can count on my support”, he says, haltingly. “I feel…connected to you all, somehow, after what happened to your uncle.”

She blinks at him. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Not at all. It’s my duty.” He hesitates for a moment, and she can see him deliberate whether to say what is on his mind. She puts a hand on his forearm to encourage him, and he takes a deep breath. “It pains me to see such a beautiful, lively young woman as yourself so downtrodden. I want you to know that I will do what I can to ensure everything turns out alright.”

He says this with such heartfelt earnestness that she can’t help the tears that fill her eyes, probably a result of the pressure she has been under for weeks now. A part of her wants to do nothing so much as weep, but she is still in possession of herself enough to not want to do that in a crowded tavern room.

“You are a true knight, sir”, she says earnestly. “I don’t know how we could ever repay you.”

“You could let me escort you upstairs, to make good on my promise”, he says, with a slight chuckle. “The stairs here a rather narrow, and I wouldn’t want you to fall.”

He holds out his arm to her, as if she were a gentlewoman instead of a mere peasant girl, and she can’t help but giggle as she takes his arm. Foolish, she thinks, but she enjoys picturing herself as a great lady too much to really care.

Silas truly hadn’t meant to act on the draw the young woman undeniably has on him. How could she not? She is barely twenty, vivacious, and above all beautiful with her sparkling grey eyes, lively as a storm-tossed sea, and curling raven hair. He enjoys being in her company and hearing her talk. Her coming along this evening, when he had been so despondent over the emptiness of his life, seemed like a gift by the Watcher Herself.

But he has also always disdained those of his rank that sport with the affections and, ahem, favours of women like her. Much as her talk amuses and her beauty beguiles him, he knows he shouldn’t make her an outcast by despoiling her.

But then she turns to him once they reach the upper storey, where the tavern’s rented rooms are, light dancing in her eyes. “I think it was for the better that you accompanied me up here. I think I might really have fallen without you steadying me!”

“It was nothing”, he says quickly and tries not to think about how close she is to him. How can it be that a mere peasant girl causes such longing in him? He thinks the distance since their last meeting has made it worse – he has thought about her far more often than he should admit.

“It was not nothing”, she says emphatically. “Talking to you has made me feel better than you could know.”

“I could say the same”, he responds, with a small, forced smile. “I was feeling quite lonely until you approached me.”

“Which is a shame”, she responds with a little smile. “For you, I mean. Not for me. I am quite glad that you were here.”

It is that that makes his resolve break, somehow. Just hearing that someone is glad for him to be there. Elea had stopped giving him that feeling more than a decade ago, and ever since, he has been forced to live with being married to a woman that doesn’t want and children that neither know and nor need him. His marital life is a failure. A disgrace.

And so, in longing and desperation and pain, he surges forward and presses his lips to those of Amye Townsend, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. She is lithe and warm in his arms as he forces her to lean back a little, not paying attention to much other than the feeling of her lips under his.

That is, until he notices that she has become stiff as a statue in his grasp. He retreats immediately and stares into her wide, shocked eyes.

“I’m…I’m sorry”, he rasps out, suddenly recollecting where they are and what he has done. “I shouldn’t have-”

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me”, she cuts him off, blinking, but slowly, a smile forms on her face. “I had hoped, but…”

“You hoped?”

“Didn’t my talk about how great a man you are give you a hint, sir?”, she teases him, grabbing his hands and pulling him closer to her again. “Then maybe, I need to make myself a little clearer.”

And with this, it is like a dam has broken. All of their passion and longing pours out, no doubt spurred on by the miserable state both of them are in. Silas knows that he should stop this, especially when, after they have spent he doesn’t know how many minutes kissing, Amye steps back a little to hoarsely suggest moving this to the room she has already rented, lest some other patron stumbles upon them.

It is foolish, and Silas suspects that he won’t be able to hold back once he has her behind a locked door. But he agrees.

They go to her room, and neither of them even suggests holding back as they stumble into bed together.

It is only when they are resting on the bed afterwards, Amye slumbering beside him, that the lustful haze recedes from Silas’ mind and allows him to see exactly what they have done.

He dresses quietly, so as not to wake the young woman, his mind racing. The best he can do for her right now is to not spend any more time in her room. And truth be told, he thinks he needs some distance to fully process what has happened.

She had been a maiden, that much had been obvious. But she isn’t anymore, because of him. Part of him wants to reproach himself for it – she is young, she had been unprotected, and vulnerable, and her judgement had been softened by the spirits she had indulged in – but sharing her bed has also given him more peace than he has known in years, if only for a moment. And he can’t claim that he doesn’t feel less wound-up than before.

With any luck, no one has taken notice of their actions, and if she doesn’t conceive from this, no harm has been done. He can go back to his position in town, and she can eventually marry some peasant boy with no one the wiser.

The more he thinks about it, the more he comes to realize that pretending nothing ever happened will be the best course of action, for her especially. He is an aging knight. Even if he married her, she would be a widow before long. Him leaving now is in both of their best interests.

Before he slips out of the room, he takes one last look at her, his heart aching. She looks so peaceful and lovely, as if fashioned by the Watcher Herself. But she is a peasant, he is a knight. More than that, her family needs her. Their moments together have been lovely, but it is all there can ever be.

Previous: 1333, Day 2, Part 2/7 <--> Next: 1333, Day 2, Part 4/7

#long post #but it didn't feel right to split this #this is only the first installment of dumb youthful decisions this year #townsend legacy #ultimate decades challenge #the ultimate decades challenge #the sims 3 #ts3 #udc: townsend family #udc: gen 2 #1330s #tw: significant age gap #hope no one is too bothered by this but it IS the middle ages #tw: drinking #tw: dubious consent #not because of the age-gap #but because she is at least slightly drunk

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