Every squire in the bailey was talking or thinking about the apprenticeship, Melitta was certain of it. She'd even ventured to read some thoughts to confirm it. The hero would have a hundred applicants before the week was out, and every single one of them bigger, stronger and better with a sword than she was, or would ever be. The only thing she was better at was…sewing, not a talent in high regard among heroes.
Unless she could sew herself a heroic reputation in the next few days, Melitta didn't stand a chance.
On the morrow, the line stretched from the tavern to the city gates, as every likely lad vied for the chance to be a hero's apprentice. Some wore little more than rags, but for once, they shared something with the simply dressed tradesmen's sons and the noble boys in their leather armour, mail and emblazoned silk surcoats: their eyes were filled with hope.
Any hope Melitta had harboured died at the sight. She hadn't any chance of being chosen. It wasn't like she even knew what their family emblem was to embroider it on a surcoat.
"What is our family crest?" Melitta asked her mother.
Mother's loom continued its steady pace. "We have none. My family came from a court where we had no need of such things – a name was enough. And your father…to tell you the truth, I cannot remember. He wore the sign of a cross for the holy crusade he was on, so I never saw any other symbol on him."
"But we should have one. Maybe it wasn't the done thing where you came from, but everyone else at court has their heraldry," Melitta pressed.
Mother laughed. "Why? Are you thinking of fighting in a tourney and wearing your own colours? Tell me you're not as silly as all those boys lined up outside."
"Being a hero is not silly. Some people would say making pretty clothes is silly," Melitta retorted. The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them, but it was too late.
Mother's loom clicked into ominous silence. "We are ladies of the court. We set the tone for fashion and dress amongst the highest in the land. The courts of other kingdoms look to us for what to wear. For new ways to fashion fur and fabric. If you find all your silk dresses so silly, perhaps you should wear a sack instead."
Now Melitta felt even worse. "I didn't mean – "
"Or is it armour you want? After killing a dozen with one blow, you feel your hands are better employed with something sharper than a needle? Do you want to join those boys out there, wishing for something that will only get them killed like your father was?" A tear stood bright on Mother's cheek.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Melitta said quietly. "I'm not as reckless as that. I just wish for more to life than clothes and maybe marriage."
Mother wiped her tears away. "I know you aren't your father, but you're all I have left. And sometimes you remind me of him so much…when you don't remind me of me." She sniffed with what Melitta thought sounded like finality. "When I was a girl, I wanted to be an assassin, like one of the Sultan's daughters. Then my mother gave me this awful gown that I couldn't stand, so I unstitched it, dyed it anew and remade that gown until I could bear to wear it. My own mother didn't recognise it. And then I met your father…and found a new passion." She sighed. "I know you don't share my passion for creating cloth and clothing. I had hoped you might find something else you enjoyed. Heaven knows you've sneaked into enough places in the palace to have tried everything that you could."
"But not slaying monsters," Melitta said.
Mother laughed weakly. "I'm not sure there are any monsters left in the world to slay. All the monsters I've met have been human, and you aren't an assassin any more than I am. Could you kill a man, Melitta?"
Melitta herself didn't know the answer to that. "If I had to, I suppose," she said. Remembering the flies, she perked up. "I did kill a dozen with one blow. That knight who came to the feast would say it shows the mark of a true warrior."
"Then I shall make you a surcoat with new colours, that says what a hero you already are. And on the morrow you can walk past those hordes of boys, putting them to shame," Mother said.
Now Melitta's eyes threatened tears. "Even after what happened to Father, you would let me apprentice myself to a hero as a slayer of monsters?"
Mother's smile seemed forced, but her words rang true. "If your passion is for monsters, I cannot stop you from pursuing it. My parents never wanted me to marry your father, but I gave them no choice in the matter." She rose and headed for the chest where she kept her best silks. "So, what colours would you like to wear, my young warrior?"
Melitta thought for a moment. "What do we have that is closest to honey?"