Free Tale of Elske by Jan Vermeer Page B

met with Var Jerrol to plan and manage the Courting Winter. The men needed to govern the high spirits of the Adels, so these young men were taught sword-fighting by two masters of that art, and when the snow was packed solid in the streets they had permission to race their horses, and when weather kept them inside they were taught dances, and songs. The city feasted its guests frequently, and regular Assemblies, with hired entertainers, were held in the Council Hall. Still, the Adels had too much time for drinking and quarreling and making mischief, and that interfered with the Council’s intention of bringing them to marriage by the end of winter. Luckily, the Adelinnes understood their purpose in Trastad and caused no trouble.
    One day, as Odile unrolled a pastry crust over the top of the fish pie she was preparing for a tableful of Councillors, in satisfaction at her work she announced, “I may have been a bad woman, but none can say I’m a bad cook.”
    â€œWas it difficult to become bad?” Elske asked, hoping to cause Odile to laugh.
    Odile obliged her, turning the bowl in her hands as she pinched the crust down into place. “The opposite of difficult, Miss Curiosity. It’s a short and easy road, but not—as some say—scattered over with flowers and pieces of gold. The law of the city had me bound for the cells, but Var Jerrol took me instead. All the servants of his house he’s rescued from the cells, and that keeps us loyal. You, for example. If the Var hadn’t fetched you home with him that night, where do you think you’d have lodged the next, and all the rest of your life? And that wouldn’t have been long, down in the cells. You’d have not wished it to be long, either.”
    â€œBut if the Adels threatened to rape Idelle, why is it I who would go to the cells?” Elske asked.
    Odile shrugged. “The law places Adeliers under the Council’s protection, so when you harm an Adel you have transgressed against the law. Justice does not always harness well with profit, as any of our merchants will tell you. So Var Jerrol brought you here, to keep you from the cells; and let the world think you in the cells—for there is no doubt the world has thought of you, and spoken of you. Let them think you if not dead in the cells, then dying there.” Odile laughed again, “You’re fat for a corpse,” and Elske laughed with her. She placed the fish pie into the baking oven and asked Odile, “ Why were you a bad woman?”
    â€œOh, well, I was young. I had a husband but his boat went down in a storm, driven onto sharp rocks, and I left childless and penniless. A widow without property has nothing to attract a husband. So I stole what I could, usually from visitors to the city, and they found me out and set me before the Council. ‘Why did you not go whoring, woman?’ they asked me. With the cells awaiting me, I wished I had. But Var Jerrol claimed me for his cook. The Council didn’t like to say him nay. None of them naysays any other, if they can help it, and no one wants to cross Var Jerrol. He’s given orders to have you trained at waiting table.”
    â€œI think I will obey,” Elske said, and earned another bark of laughter.
    â€œThe Council knows that without Var Jerrol, whose ships carry his spies as well as his goods, whose whores pick the heads but not the pockets of our visiting merchants and traders, their own profits might fall off. He keeps Trastaders, too, under his eye, for men who look to profit will often be tempted to take profit where the law forbids it. The city is full of thieves, Elske, and not all of them sleep rough in streets and stables.” But Odile could not be long diverted from her instructions. “He has said you are to wait at table under Red Piet. When you do that, Saffie will watch over the little girls.”
    Elske, wondering if her safe place in the house would be at