Harvest time had come.
Slavemaster Habrunt was compelled to attend to his duties first and foremost, and so could not visit Si'Wren as frequently as he had done at the first. He had commanded L'acoci to care for Si'Wren with all diligence. No longer dared he come so often, lest the Master take notice and be moved to great displeasure, and perhaps in the end decree some worse punishment for Si'Wren to be rid of her once and for all.
L'acoci was under instructions to bring Habrunt word again when Si'Wren was feeling better, that he might come and personally escort her to her newly appointed place of labor. L'acoci had informed her that she would be working in the Master's fields; why else, adaged an observant L'acoci, would Si'Wren have been bedded down to recover from her injuries in the bungalow of the field laborers?
Until then, Habrunt had no further, legitimate excuse to come and seek after Si'Wren's welfare. How she longed to see his face again!
L'acoci was treating Si'Wren with borage and red clover blossom tea, together with dandelion, which was quite agreeable and most healing to her. Yesterday morning, L'acoci had smiled at her and announced that today Si'Wren might leave her sickbed at long last. Together with L'acoci, Si'Wren had gone to the stream where the women all gathered to wash clothes, to bathe and wash herself under L'acoci's fiercely protective guardianship, lest any of the other women or their children molest the wretched, defenseless outcast of a girl, so none dared.
Then, after she had first fed the other field slaves in the cypress bungalow their dinner, L'acoci had gone to tell Habrunt that night of the progress Si'Wren had been making in her recovery. L'acoci then returned and, with a twinkle in her eyes, informed Si'Wren of what she had done. Knowledge of this event had filled Si'Wren with such a perplexity as to what would become of her that she could hardly go to sleep that night. All she could think of was Habrunt and what he would say when he came for her in the morning.
Sure enough, as soon as Habrunt had a chance to make his morning rounds to see that the affairs of the Master's Household were all in order for the day and that the slaves were all well and truly at their duties, or that the inevitable one or two dropouts had given him sufficient excuse and been temporarily reassigned one way or another to easier work, he came personally for Si'Wren.
"Well, little one, are you ready?" Habrunt spoke to her in his deep, gentle voice, as he stood in the doorway with a stern look on his formidable features, and secretly gave her a quick wink. He folded his muscular, corded forearms across his hairy chest and presented an exceeding handsome figure with his long wavy locks held back by the plain leather headband, and his unadorned but carefully trimmed beard. He looked rugged and formidable, despite his beaming countenance.
Inwardly pleased at the way he had winked at her with no one else the wiser, Si'Wren bowed low, then rose to her full, diminutive stature and nodded to him in mute obedience.
"What good are words anyway, eh?" he said, in a not-unkindly fashion.
"Come, then, little one."