A Shadow of Doubt

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

            “What is this?” I asked, pointing at a bronze colored powder. I glanced up at Marco. He was eyeing me, a smile eluding his cheeks. I felt my body prickle with the sensation of having Marco’s eyes running down my spine.

            It was a quiet day in the village; many hiding from the news of a potential down pour, made evident by the dark clouds looming over head. But it hadn’t held me back. I had been wondering the castle, bored out of my mind. Knowing that Marco was here gave me a sense of adventure, and I didn’t pass up the opportunity as it made itself prominent. Plus, fewer peasants meant a quieter day for the two of us, and I could not resist the thrill.

            “That? Surely you have seen it before?” he inquired.

            I shook my head vigorously. “I do not enter the kitchen much.” I replied.

            He looked at me quizzically. “A woman who does not enter the kitchen?” he scrutinized. “That is a new one.”

            I frowned; most women were brought up to take care of a family, mending to house hold chores and cooking. “T’is just that my mother did not think it was necessary.” I remarked, not wanting to reveal that I had chef’s who cooked for me.

            He just nodded, turning back to the powdery spice. “This is nutmeg.” He told me. He held his finger to my plump lips and I licked up the substance, feeling the gritty mixture against my tongue. It tasted of a mint flavor, maybe with a hint of cinnamon.

            “I like it.” I stated.

            Marco laughed. “I thought you would.”

            “What is it used for?” I queried.

            “You do not know much do you?” he teased.

            I nudged him. “That is not funny.” I dissidented.

            Marco laughed again. “T’is used for puddings, cakes, different types of drinks, eggnog, and also vegetables.”

            “Really.” I looked at the spice in fascination. “That is a lot for one spice.”

            “That is why it is so popular.” Marco added. I grinned; my head was resting on the nape of my folded arms, my body bent at a forty-five degree angle with my arms resting on the rough wooden edge of the cart; Marco the same.

            “What is it made out of?” I asked, the peculiar taste lingering in my mouth.

            “Nutmeg is actually a seed.” Marco explained.

            I looked at the spice. “Where did you get it from?” I asked.

            “In the Banda Islands in the Moluccas of Indonesia,” he replied, “also known as the Spice Islands.” He added when he caught the confusion in my eyes.

            “Wow.” I articulated, “Indonesia is so far away.”

            “Indeed.” Marco confirmed. I nodded, mystified. It had been a few weeks since the dinner that left me humiliated. It still left me a little frazzled, but I had let it go along with my upfront anger for Charles, even though, I would still hate him for the rest of my life. Harris had gone back to France to attend to some business a short while after, but it had become clear that we were a couple.