The Spine of the World - By R. A. Salvatore Page 0,98
and ugly with a crying baby about, horrified him, but perhaps not as much as the thought of Lord Feringal having her.
That was it, Jaka understood now, though the rationalization did little to change what he felt in his heart. He couldn't bear the notion of Meralda lying down for the man, of Lord Feringal raising Jaka's child as if it were his own. It felt as if the man were stealing from him outright, as every lord in every town did to the peasants in more subtle ways. Yes, they always took from the peasants, from honest folk like Jaka. They lived in comfort, surrounded by luxury, while honest folk like Jaka broke their fingernails in the dirt and ate rotten food. They took the women of their choice, offering nothing of character, only wealth against which peasants like Jaka could not compete. Feringal took his woman, and now he would take Jaka's child.
Trembling with rage, Jaka impulsively ran down to the road waving his arms, bidding the coach to stop.
"Be gone!" Liam Woodgate called down from above, not slowing one bit.
"I must speak with Meralda," Jaka cried. "It is about her ma."
That made Liam slow the coach enough so that he could glance down and get Meralda's thoughts. The young woman poked her head out the coach window to learn the source of the commotion. Spotting an obviously agitated Jaka, she blanched but did not retreat.
"He wants me to stop so he can speak with you. Something about your ma," the coachman explained.
Meralda eyed Jaka warily. "I'll speak with him," she agreed. "You can stop and let me out here, Liam."
"Still a mile to your home," the gnome driver observed, none too happy about the disturbance. "I could be taking you both there," he offered.
Meralda thanked him and waved him away. "A mile I'll walk easy," she answered and was out the door before the coach had even stopped rolling, leaving her alone on the dark road with Jaka.
"You're a fool to be out here," Meralda scolded as soon as Liam had turned the coach around and rambled off. "What are you about?"
"I had no choice," Jaka replied, moving to hug her. She wished him away.
"You know what I'm carrying," the woman went on, "and so will Lord Feringal soon enough. If he puts you together with my child he'll kill us both."
"I'm not afraid of him," Jaka said, pressing toward her. "I know only how I feel, Meralda. I had no choice but to come to you tonight."
"You've made your feelings clear enough," the woman replied coldly.
"What a fool I was," Jaka protested. "You must understand what a shock the news was, but I'm over that. Forgive me, Meralda. I cannot live without your charity."
Meralda closed her eyes, her body swaying as she tried to digest it all. "What're you about, Jaka Sculi?" she asked again quietly. "Where's your heart?"
"With you," he answered softly, coming closer.
"And?" she prompted, opening her eyes to stare hard at him. He didn't seem to understand. "Have you forgotten the little one already then?" she asked.
"No," he blurted, catching on. "I'll love the child, too, of course."
Meralda found that she did not believe him, and her expression told him so.
"Meralda," he said, taking her hands and shaking his head. "I can't bear the thought of Lord Feringal raising my-our child as his own."
Wrong answer. All of Meralda's sensibilities, her eyes still wide open from her previous encounter with this boy, screamed the truth at her. It wasn't about his love for the child, or even his love for her. No, she realized, Jaka didn't have the capacity for such emotions. He was here now, pleading his love, because he couldn't stand the thought of being bested by Lord Feringal.
Meralda took a deep and steadying breath. Here was the man she thought she had loved saying all the things she'd once longed to hear. The two of them would be halfway to Luskan by now if Jaka had taken this course when she'd come to him. Meralda Ganderlay was a wiser woman now, a woman thinking of her own well-being and the welfare of her child. Jaka would never give them a good life. In her heart she knew he'd come to resent her and the child soon enough, when the trap of poverty held them in its inescapable grip. This was a competition, not love. Meralda deserved better.
"Be gone," she said to Jaka. "Far away, and don't you come back."