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gathered with his right. His dark brown hair and beard glowed in the sun as he wrapped the twine tightly around the stalks and tied it, leaving the sheaf standing in the field to dry.
    He met her eyes, scowled, and seemed to be waiting for a response.
    She gave him a curt nod and started gathering the spears of grain awkwardly in the crook of her arm, trying to mimic his movements.
    As she finished tying her first sheaf, she glanced up and saw that he was striding away. She sighed in relief, glad he wasn’t watching her.
    She continued gathering the barley, still tasting her fear like copper in the back of her throat, and still hearing the threat in the bailiff’s voice. Thank you, God, that Lord le Wyse came when he did. It was almost as if he realized Bailiff Tom was threatening her. God had sent an angry lord to protect her from a lecherous bailiff. But she was grateful.
    Thankful to have a task she could do, she worked steadily. It didn’t take long for her shoulders to grow hot under the relentless heat of the sun, which had burned off the fog of early morning. Her back and shoulders ached from bending over, and her arms felt like two boulders as she lifted and tied, lifted and tied. Her hands burned from the rough twine and prickly stalks. She paused in her work to wipe the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, watching the girls ahead of her mow the barley with expert strokes. They often flicked their gazes around to make sure they weren’t being observed before stopping to whisper to each other and giggle. Annabel was thankful for the girls’ lack of enthusiasm for their work, since it prevented her from getting too far behind them, and she even allowed herself to hope that the girls might one day accept her as a friend. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d whispered and giggled with a girlfriend. Perhaps now that she was working as a servant, the rest of the village girls would accept her.
    Glancing up, she saw a familiar form bending over the barley stalks. Edward was working not far away, also gathering and binding sheaves. He straightened, stopping his work to press a hand to his lower back. Annabel quickly looked down, hoping her brother didn’t see her.
    “You just couldn’t go along with my plan, could you?” Edward hissed the words at her, coming to stand beside her.
    Annabel pretended to ignore him.
    “You couldn’t do this one thing for your family, could you?” He sounded angry, and the ridiculousness of his attitude hit her.
    “You’re the one who tried to force your only sister to marry an appalling man she had no wish to marry. I am helping the family by serving Lord le Wyse.” She continued with her work while she spoke, not even looking up, too aware that Lord le Wyse might be nearby watching them. “And even if I had married Bailiff Tom, he wouldn’t have saved you from your share of the work. He wasn’t planning to pay your censum at all. He would have let you be indentured to Lord le Wyse.”
    “That’s a lie!”
    “If I were you, I’d lower my voice and get back to work. Lord le Wyse doesn’t tolerate people who won’t do their share.”
    Edward huffed and stomped away from her. Annabel couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at her brother’s discomfiture. At the same time, her heart ached to think that her own brother didn’t care about her. Father would never have let him treat her this way.
    Annabel again focused on the stalks, though her stomach growled intermittently all morning. Soon her head ached from the sun’s heat, and her mouth was so dry it was as if she’d been chewing a ball of wax.
    She tied off yet another bundle of barley. When she looked up, a young boy with green eyes and a dirt-streaked face stood beside her with a bucket and a ladle.
    “Water?”
    “Thank you.” Annabel took the proffered ladle and drank. As she handed it back to him, she noticed a cut on the boy’s upper arm, oozing fresh blood. “What happened to your arm?”