As the cart continued to move away from the center of Tyroc, the crowds thinned. Buildings began to stand separate from one another with green spaces in between. The road sloped to higher ground overlooking the river, where there were grand homes with spacious, well-tended grounds and gardens. Tyroc’s hustle and bustle gradually diminished to nothing but a distant murmur, its strong odors washed away by a fresh breeze driving inland from the coast. From there Elowyn could see the ocean, shimmering on the horizon, stretching on seemingly without end. Elowyn had not realized that any part of the city held such simple splendor. But nearly as soon as they entered this quarter, they passed beyond it, coming to a bridge that spanned the river close to where it entered Tyroc from the Northeast. This part of the river was still pristine, untouched by the soils of the city. Not very far downstream, Elowyn could see the grain mill at work, people gathering water for their shops or houses, and ships ferrying merchandise.
They passed through the northern gate, which only served to remind her of her time with Einar, and of the danger she would soon be facing. The road continued to rise slowly, but relentlessly upward, first over open pasture land, then into the cool shadow of a forested mountain. That is to say, Elowyn thought of it as a mountain, because she had never seen a real one. With all of Tyroc being relatively flat and level with the sea, the hill on which Tyroc’s castle had been built seemed immense to her. The road twisted upward and inward along the face of the hill in a zigzag pattern. With each hairpin curve, they rose higher. There was always a sheer wall of rock and tree on one side of her, and a steep drop on the other. The city below seemed distant and dreamlike.
As they rounded a final curve, the road broadened and they passed through a stone gateway flanked by massive towers. Beyond the gate, the road continued along a rough open field and then across a wooden bridge that spanned a deep ditch filled with rainwater and refuse. On the other side of the ditch began the outer defensive walls of the castle, which seemed to stretch up to the very clouds. Elowyn could not help but feel that they were being closely watched through the narrow slits carved into the walls. The towers and inner buildings rose even higher, dwarfing the trees that edged the hilltop. The sight was both majestic and oppressive at the same time.
Between the outer and inner defensive walls was a flat grassy area where sheep and other animals grazed, and where people and their livestock were gathered during times of war. Long, spiraling staircases rose from the ground to the tops of the walls. Elowyn couldn’t help but wonder if it was from the top of one of these staircases that Avery had plummeted.
Shuddering, Elowyn realized more than ever that they were trapped, held captive at this lady’s mercy until she saw fit to release them. She wished she could see Morganne’s face, or even her mother’s, in the hope of finding some comfort in their expressions. Elowyn swallowed hard when they finally passed beyond the outer and inner defensive walls, and through the main gate. She thought her heart would stop when the portcullis shut behind them with such a definitive clang, the sound continued to echo for several moments. She found herself in a poorly lit entryway that smelled strongly of damp stone. The gatekeepers kept a keen eye on them from open archways above, while the lady instantly began giving orders to servants waiting in the shadows.
“Have all of these garments delivered to my chambers immediately. Take the youngest child to the nursery, and show the remainder of my guests to the bath. Send handmaidens to see to their physical needs and comforts. Be sure that they are cared for as any personal friend of the Sovereign would have been, or I shall make my extreme displeasure known.”
With that the lady swept past them, flinging open a single wooden door on the left, and disappearing down a rough stone corridor illuminated solely by torch light. Two servants stepped forward and indicated that they were to be followed. The entryway echoed again, this time with the sound of heavy chains being drawn, and loud groans and creaks as the two massive wooden doors before them were slowly drawn open. Such splendor as Elowyn could never have imagined awaited her. Thick woven rugs with bright, intricate patterns hung from the walls, as did banners displaying the family crest of the Sovereign. Overhead, arched and polished wooden beams supported great silver chandeliers holding a hundred or more candles each. The corridor represented such a small part of the castle’s full glory, yet it was impressive enough to Elowyn who knew it could have easily held their little thatched roofed cottage many times over. She stood gaping in the doorway, unaware that everyone was waiting for her. Even once she realized it, her feet felt like stone, her knees like water. The servants stood without expression while Morgan glared fiercely in Elowyn’s direction. She gave a pleading look to Morganne, who after a moment of contemplation seemed to understand. She grasped Elowyn by the hand, pulling her along beside her.
They were led through a series of rooms and corridors, each more impressive than the last, until they were finally brought into what the lady must have been referring to as the bath. The room was many times the size of their cottage, with a brightly colored tile floor, and a great hearth built into the outer wall. A huge fire roared and crackled, giving off incredible amounts of warmth. Before the hearth there was a thick fur rug, and three round wooden tubs, each separated by curtains for privacy. A group of young girls, not much beyond Elowyn’s age, approached them. One of them scooped up Adelin and carried her off, presumably to the nursery. The others directed Elowyn, Morganne, and their mother to the three tubs.
Before she quite knew what was happening, Elowyn found that she had been discreetly stripped of all her clothing, and was being gently lowered into one of the baths. It was filled with hot, steaming water and had a soft cloth folded in the bottom for her to comfortably rest on. One of the girls scrubbed her hair clean, while the other washed the rest of her. Such treatment made Elowyn anxious at first. Everything was happening faster than she could anticipate, and was beyond her control. But the warmth of the water quickly soothed her. Her muscles began to relax as the weight lifted from her limbs, and her mind drifted off to more pleasant thoughts. So far, they were not being treated as prisoners.
When Elowyn had been thoroughly scrubbed and rinsed, the young girls helped her out of the tub, wrapping her tightly in a soft blanket, and guiding her over to the rug by the fire. Then she was rubbed all over with perfumed oil, and once her hair was dry, it was combed and braided with ribbons. Finally, she was taken into an adjoining room where she was dressed in the finest clothes she had ever hoped to wear—a soft linen undergarment trimmed with ribbons, and a beautiful green overdress, its edges and sleeves trimmed with embroidered flowers. She was amazed to see her reflection in a large mirror resting against the wall. She had caught wavy, distorted glimpses of herself in pools of water before, but she had never seen an actual mirror. Elowyn was stunned speechless by her appearance. She found it hard to believe that she was looking at herself, and yet she was. When she moved, the other Elowyn matched her movements with perfection.
Elowyn was then escorted through several more rooms into what appeared to be a waiting area. Morganne and her mother were already there, seated by a fire. Their hair and new clothes were equally stunning. Morganne wore a long blue gown that trailed on the floor behind her, with a bodice and sleeves that laced up with ribbons. Elowyn could not help but notice how well the color suited her. She was absolutely beautiful, with her hair shimmering in the firelight, and her complexion still rosy from the heat of the bath. Their mother had been dressed in a red gown trimmed with beads and needlework. It had long fluted sleeves and a beaded head covering that matched. Unlike Elowyn and Morganne, who felt very out of place in their new garments, their mother seemed to wear hers comfortably, as though she were quite accustomed to such luxury. Elowyn felt her mother to be even more imposing than usual dressed in red.
The Lady Isana soon appeared, inviting them into another adjoining room, which must have been her antechamber. There all the dresses Morganne had made were laid out for the lady to examine. S
everal attendants stood nearby, waiting graciously for her commands. Elowyn wondered about these young girls in the service of the castle. While it must be comforting to have all of one’s needs attended to, and to live in such grandeur rather than in the squalor of a peasant cottage, it must also be a form of imprisonment. She could not imagine what it must be like, following a lord or lady around like a silent ghost, always ready to comply solemnly with whatever they wished.
“Begin with that one,” the lady pointed to one of the silk gowns.
Thus began many tedious hours for Elowyn as the lady was undressed by her attendants, and re-dressed into the new garments to be properly fitted. As she stood, minor adjustments were made to each one by a flushed-faced Morganne. If the brunt of the pressure had been on their mother before, it was now squarely upon Morganne, whose needle must now work with speed and complete accuracy under the attentive eye of the lady. If she pleased the lady, they would be paid and sent on their way. If she did not … the thought of being turned out disgraced and empty-handed was unthinkable.
The whole time she was being fitted, the lady prattled and gossiped about anything that came to mind. Much of it was meaningless to Elowyn, as the lady kept referring to people and events that Elowyn knew nothing about … wealthy members of the court and their wives, her thoughts on what they wore to last week’s feast, and what outlandish things she said just to watch their prim little mouths gape in disapproval. Then she did finally say something worth paying attention to.
“Is it not the biggest jest ever? All those insatiably wealthy Tyrocian families that have outdone themselves for years to get into the Sovereign’s good graces, hoping that their daughters might be chosen to bear his descendants. Yet here am I, daughter of a far off land most of them have never heard of, nor will ever see. Indeed most of them would detest our ways as barbaric,” she smirked dryly. “If only they truly knew how much I have already conformed to their way of life, including wearing these tight, burdensome garments. It is I who will sweep the throne out from under them by marrying the only son of the Sovereign who will ever father heirs. If that was not reason enough for them to resent me, I know that they also find me a contemptible heathen, entirely too wild and impulsive, and free with my opinions.” She grinned merrily, “So let them hate me! Let them whisper behind my back. I will have the last satisfaction when they must come to me with their false smiles to attain the favor of the next Sovereign.” The lady looked directly at Elowyn, who was at that moment in her line of vision, and winked. “In the meantime, why shouldn’t I have the fun of fulfilling all of their expectations, and more? It might just make this new life interesting enough to be bearable.”
Elowyn could feel her eyes widening to the point where she thought they must burst out of her head. She had a thousand questions she desperately wanted answers to, but she remembered her place enough to know she dare not ask even one of them.
Their mother lowered her eyes to the floor, fully aware that she had just been given private information not yet known to the general populace, and said, “My lady, we congratulate you on the good fortune of your upcoming marriage, which shall also be the good fortune of all Tyroc.” She then spoke in a much lower voice, closer to the lady’s ear. “What you say gives me great hope for the future. For though we are of a different class and upbringing, and without meaning any disrespect to my lady’s status as my better in every respect, I understand your position all too well. My own eccentricities would not be so well tolerated were it not for my exceptional weaving skill, and the famous needle of my eldest daughter. I might very well be a penniless outcast among my peers, many of whom have traditionally fashioned all of the royal family’s garments, and therefore boast far greater prestige. Your request for such humble services as I may offer is a great privilege and an honor that I shall not forget.” With that she made a low bow before the lady, but not before she had given a sharp glance to her daughters indicating she expected them to follow her example.
The lady looked upon their mother with a mixture of surprise and amusement. She then did something none of them could have anticipated. She took hold of their mother’s chin and lifted it so that she could stare directly into her eyes. Elowyn let out a little gasp of fear—she could not help it. Was the lady offended by what their mother had said? Would they be cast out, or imprisoned, or worse? That breathless moment seemed to go on forever, as she wondered what such strange behavior meant. If anyone else had touched Morgan in such a way, she would have instantly responded with violence. But what could she do? Even she was at the mercy of the Lady Isana.
“You do not speak nor act in the manner of a commonplace weaver, and I can tell by your eyes that you are not one of them.” For the first time their mother looked truly uncomfortable. She initially seemed startled, then pained, before she quickly veiled her expression and carefully protested.
“My good lady, you have seen my home, and everything I have in this world. I have nothing more than a humble cottage and my work to show for my life’s toil. But it should not surprise you my lady, that in my line of business, it pays to learn the ways and manners of my betters.”
The lady let go of her face, giving her a skeptical glance, but choosing not to push the issue further. “You speak truly when you say there are many weavers and seamstresses in Tyroc of greater prestige. But my most trusted servant, whom I sent ahead to settle my affairs, found none of greater skill, and I settle for nothing less than perfection. The prestige of others is meaningless to me, unless I can use it in some way to further my own. You will do well to remember that.
“Now then,” her tone changed. “I am weary of this and it is nearly time for the evening meal. We must all refresh ourselves before going to the Great Hall.” As if her desires had been anticipated, three servant women suddenly appeared at the door.
“If it please you my lady, we have come to show your guests to their chambers.” One of the servant women hung back in the shadow of the corridor, her head lowered.
The lady’s sharp eye did not fail to notice her. She pointed accusingly in the servant’s direction and called out sharply, “How is it that you have been sent to serve me? I thought that you had been relegated to scrubbing pots in the kitchens?”
“With all respect my lady, the kitchens would not have me,” she choked on her words, obviously trying to hold back a gush of tears. “I am here by the Lord Braeden’s will, and the son of my Lord Sovereign did say that I must obey Lord Braeden’s every word as law if I wish to live.”
The lady’s expression was as cross as her tone, “Very well then. I shall take this matter up with him. In the meantime, you will tend to the young girl. Perhaps by the grace of youthful ignorance she will be able to suffer your presence. But if I hear that you have not treated her well, I will see to it that you spend the rest of your miserable days mucking out the privy pits.”
“Yes, my lady. My only desire is to please you, and your guests.”
Elowyn followed the servant down a maze of corridors until she was brought to the chambers that had been prepared for her. The servant, still teary eyed, drew a basin of water for her to wash up in, brought her some fresh clothes, then stood waiting to help her dress.
This sort of attention was embarrassing to Elowyn, who knew that the servant, however much she was despised by the lady, was probably still of higher birth than she was. Elowyn felt terrible for this poor woman, but she did not know what to say that would be of any comfort.
“You do not need to dress me … I would never say anything, you know.”
The woman looked about nervously as though she felt she was being watched. “I must do my lady’s bidding, or her wrath will surely fall upon me.” Then she whispered so softly that Elowyn could barely hear her, “I trust your word, for you have the look of kindness about you. But these walls have eyes, and I am closely watched. I beg that you allow me to serve you.”
Elowyn complied and allowed the servant woman to help her change, but she could not ho
ld back her curiosity. “Why are you watched? Why is the lady so angry with you?”
The woman’s features were overtaken with sorrow, and it took her so long to speak that Elowyn thought she was not going to answer. Finally she whispered again, very low under her breath, “My husband was beheaded as a traitor.”
Elowyn’s eyes got very wide, and before she remembered herself she had called out “Elias!”
The woman looked about for a moment in a wild panic and whispered fiercely, “These walls have also ears. If you mean to destroy me, you would be kinder to run me through where I stand.”
“I am so sorry,” Elowyn whispered, “I truly am. I was only surprised. I knew him … or rather, I knew one who knew him. A man called Einar was … my friend.”
The woman searched Elowyn’s face carefully for a moment, then said “We must speak, but not here. I will find a way. Until then, you should say not my husband’s name, nor Einar’s, to anyone. If the Lord Braeden ever found out, you and your kin would not leave this place alive.”
Until that point, Elowyn’s initial fears had been soothed away by the bath, and the fresh clothes, and even the lady’s self-involved, but harmless prattling. Now she felt again with full intensity the gravity of their situation. She knew too much, certainly far more than anyone in the castle would suspect a fatherless weaver’s daughter to know. The servant woman was right. If Braeden realized what he had so close to his grasp, he would never let them go. From some far off corridor a deep bell began to ring.
Journey to Aviad Page 17