He led her through a large gap in the henge, supplying her with detailed measurements and distances. As they entered the ring, she pressed her palm to one of the surfaces of the weatherworn stone. “It’s warm,” she stated, half to herself. “How did they get them here?”
“No one remembers,” Roger answered. “This land, especially the land where Stolweg now sits, has changed hands many times. King Godwin’s followers were not the first to occupy it. And they probably won’t be the last. Why don’t you explore while I water the horses?” he suggested, peering at his bride. Her skin was flushed. “Aubrianne, are you well?”
“Oh yes,” she replied, fishing a kerchief from her sleeve, “just warm from the sun.”
“There’s some shade near the southern stones,” he suggested as he left the circle of stones. “Do not tarry overlong, though. Camp will be set, and you’ll want your rest after this long day.”
• • •
After he was satisfied that the horses had had their fill, Roger secured them. His mood had much improved since they’d stepped on Stolweg land. Now that he had Aubrianne, he hoped to add much more to his holdings. His goal, decades out of reach, was finally in sight. One more year, perhaps two, and he could make his next move.
At Stolweg, he could be himself and not worry about outsiders questioning his methods or authority. Aubrianne would learn her place soon enough. He’d told her not to take too long, to follow him to the campsite, yet she lingered at the henge. She’d had enough time to explore.
He approached the stones from the southeast. The shadows were deepening with every minute, and it took him a moment to find his young wife. She was on the ground, almost hidden in the grasses near the stone to his left, and he thought she was asleep. But her features were far from restful, and she was mumbling to herself. Could she be dreaming?
He knelt down next to her, and just as he lifted his hand to caress her cheek, she sighed. On her breath, a single word floated from her lips: “Larkin.”
Roger shook her shoulders none too gently, and her eyes fluttered open. She immediately sat up in alarm, only to swoon once more as the blood rushed from her head.
“Are you injured, Aubrianne?” Her eyes were wide, her pupils enlarged. Her confusion seemed genuine. “What is the matter with you?”
“I—I’m not sure,” she answered him, brow knitted. “I was exploring, and then—I don’t know. Could I have fainted? I’ve never done so in my life, m’lord.”
Roger held out his hand to help her to her feet, and she stood, albeit unsteadily. He continued to study her. Thus far, she’d been so easy to read. He saw her guarded look and decided to question her later about what she had said when she was dreaming. His mind did naught but imagine the worst.
Chapter Seven—Homecoming
The next morning, when Anna emerged from her tent, she regarded the men working doubly hard to break their camp. For once, even her husband could find no faults in their efforts. Their home was within reach—her home, she amended. Everyone went about their duties with such efficiency that they started earlier than anticipated.
Roger rode ahead of the group, mulling over some matter. He’d yet to say a single word to her, and the uneasiness she’d felt upon waking from her faint grew. When the trail widened, she pulled alongside him. He remained focused on the path ahead.
“Good morning, m’lord,” Anna started.
He nodded to her but kept his silence.
“I was hoping to speak with you earlier, but there was no time. Yesterday—”
“How fare you this morning?” he asked, interrupting her. “No more spells, I hope.”
“No, m’lord,” she stated, trying to make her tone light in an effort to ease her nerves. “In truth, I know not why I fainted. It must have been warmer than I thought.” Anna didn’t quite believe this, for she’d never experienced anything even close to a spell. That was an affliction that troubled her sister.
“Your malaise, had it anything to do with Larkin?” Despite his casual tone, he scrutinized her face as if his question were some sort of test. She had no idea to what he was referring.
“M’lord? What larkin?” Her bafflement must have been the answer for which he was searching, for as soon as it was uttered, a satisfied cast stole across his face.
Before she could say more, he muttered a curse under his breath and wheeled his horse around. “Damn. The stable master needs my help again.” He rode abruptly away, even though it appeared that Gilles had the broodmares perfectly in hand.
When Roger later returned to her side, she listened while he pointed out various grazing locations. And as he told her of his expectations for his breeding program, the valley yielded to a gently rising plain. He suggested they pick up the pace, and they cantered up the incline. As they reached the crest, Roger reined in his horse. Anna followed suit. Below them sat Stolweg Keep.
It was perhaps a half-league away, at the bottom of a broad basin. But it was not the keep that captured her attention. It was the wide, smooth-flowing river meandering through the land. The water flowed from the northeast and continued southwest until it curved around the keep. After flowing back upon itself, it finally widened to form a serene, almond-shaped reservoir. A peppering of cottages was spread along its northern bank. A structure, most likely a mill, pinched the southeast end of the lake back into a river. From there, the water flowed east before disappearing in a jumble of rolling, forested hills. Was her new home similar to Chevring, with all village life spread around the fortress and contained in the immediate lands around it?
Stolweg Keep sat to the northwest of the lake. The castle and ramparts were cleverly placed. The river created a natural moat, and the resulting peninsula within its girth was several hectares wide. Every bit of land within the river’s belt was used: arable fields, small orchards, and walled grazing areas filled alternately with milk cows and sheep. Here and there, herders’ cottages and farmers’ crofts provided shelter. Despite the strict order imposed on the land, the effect was comforting, like a patchwork blanket.
Anna scanned the region to the west. There, the land was thickly wooded and savage. Her gaze shifted east, to the forested hills, much gentler than their brothers across the basin. These forests were much like those of Chevring, open and airy, not choked with wild brush.
All of these details Anna soaked in. The rise atop which they were perched was verdant in grasses and was in striking contrast to the opposite edge of the basin. There, a small band of green followed the water’s outer curve. But too soon, the lush green gave way to a gray, lifeless landscape. Except for sparse patches of trees, the northern side was barren. Its slope rose to about the same level of the ridge upon which they’d halted and then transformed without break into steep, desolate hills. The uninterrupted terrain lay smoky in the afternoon sun. Austere and forbidding, the hills blended seamlessly into the mountains behind.
Anna’s chin tilted up to better view the peaks. A sound between a whistle and an oath escaped her as her eyes widened in awe.
“The snow never melts on that range,” Roger told her.
“Have you been up there?” Anna asked.
“Several times. There’s interesting hunting to be found in those mountains, if you’re brave enough,” he added. “Of course, most men will only venture there during high summer. Any other time, it can be devilishly cold. And extremely perilous. You’re just as likely to be devoured by the wolves that roam there as you are to fall into an ice crevasse.”
Anna tore her eyes from the north as she and Roger rode over the basin’s brim. The afternoon sun reflected off the river, transforming it into a ribbon of molten gold. Roger pointed out various features of the land, including a massive bridge that spanned the narrowest part of the river. He told her how its builders had defense on their minds during its construction. Sections could be lifted and rolled back, cutting off entry to the lands around the castle. There was a second, smaller crossing near the mill that could also be quickly dismantled. If an enemy f
ound the main crossing retracted, it would take an hour’s hard ride to reach the mill. From there, it would be another hour to make the main gate. By then, the people of Stolweg could be safely ensconced inside the curtain wall.
As they drew closer to the keep, Anna gazed at the castle in the distance. Located on the northwest side of the peninsula, it was constructed atop a large rock formation. “I see only the one gate, m’lord. Surely there are other entrances than just the one.”
“There’s but one other, though much smaller,” he replied. “It is just large enough for one horse and rider to pass through at a time, making it easily defendable. During the Great War, Stolweg Keep was all that stood between the armies of Nifolhad and the heart of Aurelia.”
“I can see the stable and paddocks,” she said, “but what is that large building to the east?”
“The barracks,” Roger answered. “Most of the servants are housed within the curtain but not within the castle. There are a few exceptions, including my master-at-arms and your maid.”
They rode to the bridge, passing herders tending to their beasts and field hands working their parcels of land. Anna nodded to them all, and smiled. They nodded back, though not at her, it seemed. She sensed that they surreptitiously studied her, but their eyes mainly focused on Roger. He ignored them. As soon as he passed, they resumed their labors. No words were spoken, no songs were sung to ease their toil. Anna couldn’t help but compare the silence to the liveliness she’d left behind at Chevring. Here, the lack of happiness was incongruous to the well-tended land.
When they reached the bridge, Anna marveled at its construction. Stretching nearly twenty paces, it had ropes, as thick as a man’s thigh, running to wheeled structures on either side. And the workings—gears, chains, and cables—had the appearance of careful maintenance.
Over the bridge, they rode toward the massive wall, passing more dwellings nestled under its protection. They were well maintained, each with a small garden patch. A few homes boasted flower boxes, though nothing yet bloomed there. Anna noted that the stoops were all swept and the roofs in good repair. The few people at home who had stepped outside to greet their lord and his new bride gave polite nods before returning to their tasks. It was quiet here, too. The familiar sounds of women chatting, children playing, and babes crying were absent. It dawned on Anna that there were no young children; only boys and girls of a ready age to work with their parents could be seen.
She was on the verge of asking Roger about this when they came to the large archway at the southeast corner of the curtain wall. Looking up, Anna saw gigantic wooden beams wrapped in iron plating, their pointed tips deadly. She imagined that the heavy timbers, when lowered, could withstand any siege. Roger’s people had kept the workings in excellent condition. The wheel axles were oiled; the chains and pull ropes were new.
As they entered the courtyard, not a single person stepped forward to greet them. There were men and women present, to be sure, she noticed. But after a fastidious nod to their lord, they went back to their work. Roger’s people were healthy, well fed, and well shod, but silent.
She and Roger dismounted in front of the stable. A boy, perhaps fifteen years of age, approached the horses with an easy confidence. He looked familiar, Anna thought. And when the rest of the group entered the yard, she made the connection. He had to be Gilles’s son.
“Show Lady Aubrianne the stable,” Roger ordered. “No doubt she will visit often.” He strode toward several soldiers emerging from the barracks, leaving her alone with the young man.
Following the stable hand, Anna led Tullian into the structure’s cool sanctuary. The clean scent of hay, oats, and horse manure floated in the air of the two-story building. Anna breathed deeply, relishing the sweet ambrosia, and thought, I’m home.
She stood in the center of the long, open stable, analyzing its details with great interest. There were at least twenty stalls on each side, and an opening to the paddock on the far end.
“I’m called Will, m’lady,” the stable boy told her as he removed the saddle and gear from Roger’s horse.
Curious, thought Anna. Although he hadn’t made eye contact with her, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Tullian. She recognized a kindred spirit when she saw one.
She noted that there was a large tack room and that each stall had a split trough for both clean water and grain. Above her head, the lofts were well stocked with fresh hay and straw. The ladders were sturdily made, with wide rungs so as to be more like stairs. Trapdoors running along the center beam were propped open, letting in not only light but fresh air as well.
“This stable is more than perfect, Will. It’s expertly designed,” Anna commented. “Not a single detail has been overlooked.” For the first time, Will looked at her. And Anna saw that his eyes were filled with pride. So, she thought, not everyone here is so cold. Mayhap she could get the boy to speak more than just his name. When she noticed a small opening to the right, she asked him where it led.
“To the farrier’s shed, m’lady,” he replied. “’Course, my da can shoe the horses better than Quinn—that’s the farrier.” Sweeping his arm wide, Will continued, “My da’s the one to credit for all of this. Those roof vents were his idea, and the ladders. Lord Roger consulted with him a long time before construction began.” Will was about to continue but stopped short. Tucking his chin into his chest, he retreated behind the horses. Anna turned around and saw that Roger had entered the stable, followed closely by Gilles.
“Well, do you think this stable will do?” Roger asked.
“Yes, m’lord, this stable will most definitely do.”
“It’s been a long journey, Aubrianne,” her husband said, taking her by the elbow. “Perhaps you should rest awhile. Your maid is waiting outside. You’ll have ample time later this week to take a full tour, if you’re up to it.”
Before leaving the stable, she turned to her husband. “Her name, m’lord? My maid, I mean. Does she have a name?”
“What? Yes, of course she has a name,” he replied curtly and, after a brief hesitation, he added, “Grainne. Her name is Grainne.”
Chapter Eight—Anna’s Wedding Night
Anna stepped into the bright courtyard. She didn’t have to search far to find her maid—she was right outside the door. Easily two heads shorter than Anna, her posture was stooped like a much-kicked dog. And, as with everyone else, Grainne wouldn’t look directly at her. She gave a slight acknowledging nod before hastening back to the castle. Anna quickened her pace to keep up with the diminutive woman.
It wasn’t until they entered the fortress that Grainne finally found her voice. Her words were clipped and so obvious that she needn’t have bothered speaking at all. “Great hall. Kitchens. Stairs to my lord’s quarters.” Anna moved in that direction, but Grainne blocked her path. “My lady, your chamber is this way.”
A blush rose on Anna’s cheeks; she was glad that Grainne walked ahead. They entered a narrow passage and began climbing a long flight of steps. “There are four sets of stairs, Lady Aubrianne. One for each tower.”
There were slits in the thick stone walls, allowing fresh air and light to penetrate the keep. Through them, Anna caught glimpses of green pastures and blue sky. Grainne finally stopped by a heavy wooden door with scrolled iron fittings. The entrance’s keystone was marked with a carved rosette. Ahead, there was another arched passageway with more stairs, and Anna asked where they led.
“To the battlements, Lady Aubrianne,” her maid answered tersely. “There are similar stairs in each of the four towers. Each set of steps cuts diagonally from tower to tower.”
Despite her maid’s queer demeanor, Anna was excited. She couldn’t wait to explore every nook of the castle. Knowing how to reach the roof and the promise of open skies would allow her to take in the view and familiarize herself with the surrounding land.
Grainne opened the heavy door, surprisingly smooth and silent for its weight, and entered. Anna followed and was delighted to find that her co
rner suite boasted a large living space, complete with a fireplace and a partitioned area for her toilette. The room had high ceilings and three tall windows. The multipaned center window cut across one corner of her room and faced south. Its mullioned glass was a luxurious rarity so far from court. Flanking the large center window were two tapered arches, angled to offer views to the southeast and southwest. The smaller windows were shuttered, open at present, but not fitted with glass. Thick woven fabrics were suspended above the windows and tied back to allow the day’s light to flood the room.
The interior walls were covered in thick tapestries, and there were piles of throws on the sleeping platform. The hearth was located on the inner northwest wall. In front, there was a low table and a worn but comfortable-looking couch flanked on either side with cushioned benches. Anna tested her bed, so firm she was sure it was filled with horsehair. Just like her bed at Chevring, she thought wistfully.
“If you’re hungry, Lady Aubrianne, you’ll find wine with bread and cheese near the hearth,” Grainne offered while staring at the floor. “Your possessions will be delivered shortly. Warm water is coming for your bath.”
Hoping to be on friendlier terms with her new maid, Anna commended her. “Thank you, Grainne, you’ve been thorough. But I must ask you to do one more thing.”
“If it is in my power to do so, Lady Aubrianne.”
“I would prefer for you to call me Anna. We did not stand for so much formality at Chevring,” Anna explained.
Grainne peered nervously from beneath her lashes and stammered, “I—I am sorry, m’lady. Lord Roger has already instructed us on his preferences. It would not do to disappoint his lordship.”
“That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?” Anna mused, not hiding her irritation. She could see that she’d made Grainne uncomfortable, so she hastened to add, “Perhaps when we know each other better.”
Grainne was saved from having to respond when Anna’s trunks were brought into the room. Anna was happy to see her belongings again. She liked this room but longed to make it her own. From the few feminine touches, it was clear that this chamber had belonged to Roger’s departed wife, Lady Isabel.
Wild Lavender Page 4