‘You are correct,’ said Maev, with a smile. ‘He complained bitterly and swore it had ruined his back.’
‘Why did you bury it?’ he asked.
‘A highland woman with so much coin? What would she spend it on, Huntsekker? I have acquired many business interests in my life. Each has cost me a great deal of coin, and yet each has then supplied ten times the outlay in profit. I seem to make money far faster than I can spend it.’
‘You make that sound like a complaint. Most men would give their left arms for such a talent.’
‘Yes, that is exactly the kind of thinking that shows why they do not possess it in the first place. One doesn’t become rich by risking one’s limbs. The problem with men is that they bring obsessive pride into their undertakings. Often it blinds them to their own shortcomings. Making money is easy. If I were Varlish I would own a palace, and the king would probably have made me a duchess. As a Rigante I am not allowed to use a bank, nor to own large parcels of land. So I bury my wealth. Since Jaim died I have used smaller boxes.’
‘Shame we didn’t dig those up,’ muttered Huntsekker.
‘We will leave soon after first light,’ she said. ‘You may sleep in Kaelin’s room. It is at the top of the stairs on the left.’
Huntsekker had not slept well. His dreams had been all of Maev Ring, and her smile, and he awoke discomfited and uneasy. Now, as they sat close together on the wagon’s driving seat, he could smell the scent of her hair.
‘You are not a talkative man,’ she observed.
‘Not unless I have something to say.’
‘I recall you were married once.’
‘Twice. First wife left me while I was in the army. Second wife died. Sixteen years ago now. Selma. Good girl.’
‘You were still young then. Why did you not remarry?’
‘Why didn’t you?’ he countered.
‘I wish I had,’ she said.
‘To Grymauch?’
‘Of course to Grymauch,’ she snapped. ‘What a stupid question.’
‘Wouldn’t have worked,’ he said.
‘Would you care to explain that?’ she asked coldly.
‘No. Don’t think I would.’
‘Well, that is truly irritating.’
‘No more than you should expect from a stupid man,’ he retorted.
‘I didn’t say you were stupid. I said the question was stupid. There is a difference. If I offended you I apologize.’
The wagon reached a slight rise. Huntsekker flicked the reins across the backs of the team. ‘It’s not important,’ he said. ‘I can be as stupid as the next man. I never pretended to be clever. Neither did Jaim.’
‘I never understood why you liked him. He stole your bull and he prevented you from killing Chain Shada. I would have thought you would have hated him.’
‘I don’t hate anyone. Never have. And I couldn’t really tell you why I liked him. Everyone did, though. Galliott often talks of him. He took it hard when his musketeers shot Jaim down. He’d spent two days trying to find Jaim, to arrest him and prevent him making an appearance.’
‘Yes, people liked him,’ said Maev. ‘They soon forget, though. Parsha Willets said she loved him. Didn’t stop her marrying that cloth merchant two years after Jaim was dead.’
‘Damn, but you are a hard woman,’ said Huntsekker. ‘I used to see Parsha Willets. Damn fine whore. Always gave a man his chailling’s worth.’
‘Thank you for sharing that.’
Huntsekker ignored the sarcasm. ‘I saw her two nights after Jaim’s death. Went to her house. We sat and talked for a little. I could see she wasn’t in the mood for business. Her eyes had a kind of faraway look. She’d been drinking and crying. She didn’t say much at first, but I sat there quiet and she started to talk. A lot of it flew by me. Love and such. Then she started to slur her words. All the colour had gone from her face. When she passed out I knew it wasn’t just a drunken stupor. I went and got the apothecary. Nice little man. He got to her, managed to rouse her a little, forced her to drink something. Then she vomited. I carried her up to her bed. The apothecary sat with her for a while. I waited downstairs. When he came down he took the goblet she’d been using, dipped his finger into the dregs and tasted it. He told me the name of the stuff, but I’ve forgotten it now. Anyways it was poison when taken in large doses. Parsha Willets tried to kill herself. As far as her marrying the cloth man – well, good for her. Whoring’s no trade for a woman of her age. I’ll bet Jaim would have said the same.’