In your eyes I became a new woman, and that woman loved you dearly. If it were possible, I would prefer that you remember me as I was with you. If I could choose my life, it would be with you. I would have married you and been the woman you thought I was, but that was never to be.
Do not look for me. The woman you loved exists only in the fiction of our hearts. Seeking her will only prolong your pain.
Love,
Alyssa
He held the letter in numb fingers, rereading it in disbelief. It must not be true, it couldn’t be true. There was no promise for the future, no misunderstanding to be repaired. The words held only bleak disappointment.
“You don’t look so good, lad.”
Gram nodded and handed Alan the lamp. Folding the letter up carefully before backing away, he mounted Pebble. His throat felt tight, but he managed a quick, “Thank you,” before turning the mare’s head toward Castle Cameron.
Once there he found a certain bear waiting inside the main door. Grace held out her arms to him, and he lifted her up, cradling her in one arm.
“Well?” she asked.
“It was just a good-bye,” he managed after a short walk. “Nothing more.”
She patted his cheek with one soft paw and then hugged his neck. “I’m sorry.”
When he reached the door to the Thornbear apartment, he set her back down. “Tell Moira for me. I’d rather she not ask me about it, or tell anyone else.”
Entering the front room he found his mother sitting up, drinking tea. He was surprised. It was unusual for her to stay up later than a couple of hours after dinner. She gestured to him, indicating the chair beside her.
He took it, but didn’t say anything for a long time. When she didn’t speak, he eventually took the initiative. “You’re awake.”
Rose set her teacup down, gazing at him with tired eyes. “What mother could rest while her child is in pain, wandering the night?”
“It isn’t your fault.”
“Fault is of no concern in matters of the heart,” she answered.
“I’ve been a fool.”
“Love is often foolish, but it does not make you a fool. The wise know that there are few things of true value in the world, but love is one of them. That is why we risk so much for its sake.”
“Only a fool would love someone that doesn’t return that love.”
His mother sipped at her tea once more, raising her brow at his response. “Is that what you think? That she did not love you?”
The letter still burned against his chest, where it lay couched, but he nodded a silent ‘yes’.
“She was a consummate actress, I will give her that much,” said Rose, “but even she could not blind these eyes. She spoke the truth when she came to dinner with us.”
He had expected a different response. He himself had been sure of Alyssa before, when she had doubted herself, but now that he had seen the letter, he found his belief in her love to be faltering. To find his mother inadvertently confirming the message in Alyssa’s secret letter…
“How can you say that?”
Rose chuckled ruefully, “I don’t know, Gram. For all my logic and reason, there are some things I know without truly understanding how I know them. Some women would claim it was intuition, but my experience has been that often other people use the word ‘intuition’ simply to support what they wish to believe. I loathe the word because of that, but in this case, I can offer no better explanation.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
His mother rubbed her eyes, but she remained silent.
A dozen things ran through Gram’s mind, thoughts and emotions twisted and twined together. His mind was torn, and his body felt the need to be up and about, to do something. The frustration, the pain, the sadness, made him want to curl up in his mother’s lap, as he had when he was a small boy. But he could not voice his feelings, nor could he seek the solace of childhood. Those days were gone.
“It hurts Momma. I have to do something. What would you do?” he asked, his voice cracking despite his best efforts.
“There’s no good advice,” she admitted. “Patience, certainly, but that won’t help you regain what you have lost, it will only minimize the turmoil. Do you really want me to tell you what to do?”
“Only if it means I’ll get her back,” he replied.
Rose laughed, “At least you’re honest. Most ask for advice, and then get angry when it doesn’t match their desires. If I could have you do as I wished, I would tell you to forget her, but that isn’t very practical is it?”
He shook his head.
“Eat, sleep, and exercise your patience. Life continues, and so must we.”
Chapter 28
The next day was hard, as was the following one. Gram returned to training, but he found it brought him little joy. It served only to keep his body occupied, but his mind drifted and it was difficult to maintain proper focus. During his sparring sessions with Cyhan, it seemed as if he had lost ground. The harder he tried, the worse he did.
Meals were better, but nothing tasted good. Food was something necessary to fill the belly, but it gave him no pleasure.
Gram was depressed.
A week passed, and then another, before his mood improved. Slowly but surely he returned to himself. Training became an opportunity to vent his frustration and he enjoyed not only mastering the sword techniques that Cyhan taught the others, but in demonstrating his superiority upon his fellow trainees.
Gram was big; something that training with Cyhan alone had not allowed him to appreciate before. His mother was tall and he was told his father had been similar to Cyhan in size, but now that he was allowed to train with the other young men, it was far more obvious to him. Gram was over six feet in height now and his shoulders were broad. He had always been strong, but constant exercise had added considerable muscle to his frame.
His aggressiveness during training had begun to make the other trainees leery of practicing with him. When sparring he fought hard, and though they used wooden swords and wore armor, his blows left painful bruises.
To keep him from demoralizing the others, Cyhan and Captain Draper removed him from the training class and had him train with the regulars. Gram fared just as well there, and the number of men available to practice with, allowed him to switch his partners frequently. No one wanted to face him more than once.
Eventually Captain Draper took him aside, after one particularly brutal sparring match.
“Gram, what are you doing?”
“What you told me to do, sir,” he answered bluntly.
“You’re making my job difficult,” said the Captain. “These men don’t come out here every day to provide themselves to you as training dummies. They aren’t out here for you to beat them half to death.”
“Have I broken the rules, sir? You told us to fight as if it were real.”
“Until the opponent yields.”
“Trell didn’t yield, sir.”
“He couldn’t! He was unconscious from the first blow, yet you felt the need to strike him three more times before he could finish falling down!” said the captain, raising his voice. “You may have broken his arm!”
Gram frowned, “The sword hit his rerebrace, sir. It shouldn’t have broken anything.”
“If you hit a man hard enough, things break, armor or no armor! Even if it isn’t broken, the bruising will likely keep him from training for a week. I won’t have any guardsmen left to defend the keep if you keep sending them to the infirmary! Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me talk to him,” offered Cyhan. He motioned to Gram and the two of them walked apart. Once they were out of earshot he stopped. “It’s time to stop fighting and start teaching.”
Gram frowned.
“You’ve learned as much as you can from sparring, and most of what you’re doing with me now is just practice, but you can still improve,” said the older warrior.
“How, Zaihair?”
<
br /> “In the past, I told you to take each bout seriously, and that’s good advice, but there comes a point where you won’t find a challenge practicing against most men. You’ve reached that point, though far sooner than I expected.”
“I still can’t beat you, Zaihair,” said Gram.
Cyhan smiled, “And you won’t, but even I can’t afford to spar with you as much as you need. For one thing, my body simply can’t take that much abuse day in and day out. You’re going to have to lighten up.”
“If I don’t work as hard as I can then I won’t get better.”
“There’s another way,” replied his teacher. “You teach.” The big man watched Gram’s face—searching for understanding—but when he failed to find it, he went on. “Teaching something, anything, to someone else, will improve your understanding. Your body knows what you’ve learned, and your mind has tuned itself to the unspoken world; practicing harder now won’t help you.”
“You want me to teach someone Zan-zei?”
“No. Save that for later, someday when you’re older. No, I mean teach them what you’ve learned about the sword. Captain Draper and I have taught you a lot of techniques, and you’ve mastered them far better than any man on the field here. For example, poor Trell, instead of proving your knowledge by pounding him into jelly, try to teach him, to help him master what you already know.”
“I don’t think he’ll be back for a few days,” observed Gram.
Cyhan growled, “Don’t play stupid, boy. From now on, they aren’t you’re opponents anymore, they’re your students. Use what you’ve learned to instruct them—without killing them.”
“Are you planning to place me above the others?”
“That would create problems. No, you’ll have to learn to teach indirectly. Show some mercy on the field, and help your sparring partners correct their errors, instead of just punishing them.”
“And that will make me better?” Gram was having difficulty believing it.
“It’s far harder than you think. Teaching is the hardest thing you will ever do.”
***
Rose Thornbear was composing another letter, this one was a report for the Queen, when a messenger entered. She was sitting at a desk, using the Cameron library, when the man came in holding a small envelope.
“Milady, a letter has just arrived for you.”
Rose stood and stretched, feeling the ache in her back from being too long in the chair. Reaching out, she accepted the envelope and dismissed the servant. “Thank you, Tom. You may go.”
Tom left and she stared at the address on the outside of the envelope. It was from John Conradt, the Baron of Conradt, in Gododdin. She broke the seal and opened it, holding it before her in the light that streamed in from the windows.
Dearest Rose,
I was surprised to receive your correspondence. Though it has been many years since last we spoke, I have always remembered those days fondly. I was also pleased to hear of your son’s health and well-being. I am sure he has become a fine young gentleman.
I am troubled by the content of your letter, though, for my daughter Alyssa still has not been fostered out. I fear you have been misled, and I wish to make it clear that my daughter has never visited Cameron…
Lady Rose finished the letter and then gently folded it, showing little outward sign of her agitation. I knew it. She worried about Gram’s reaction when she told him the news. She was also concerned about the imposter’s purpose. Why was she here? Did she gain what she sought, or did she flee beforehand, fearing discovery?
The letter had created a new tension in her but Rose was nothing if not disciplined. She wrote a quick reply, thanking Marie Conradt for her response and apologizing for the confusion. She kept the reason for the confusion deliberately vague out of necessity, since she herself didn’t know much more than her friend living in Gododdin.
Once she had finished, she sealed it and wrote out the address. Then she headed for the door to the Illeniel’s home, handing the letter to a servant by the door as she left the library. “Please see this posted with the first courier heading that way.”
It turned out that Penny was in Washbrook, discussing certain procurements for the winter with Joe McDaniel, but Peter, the Count’s chamberlain, was at the door and he ushered her inside. “The Count is here, Lady Rose, if you’d like to see him instead,” he offered courteously.
Ordinarily she might have scolded him for undue formality. She had been the one to originally hire Peter Tucker and his sister Lilly years before and they had all been through a lot together. Today she didn’t bother. “Where is he?” she asked curtly.
“In his workshop, milady.”
She brushed past him and made for the stairs. The house was built on a steep incline against a mountain. The entrance from Castle Cameron came in on the upper level of the cottage, where the living areas and kitchen were. Mordecai’s workshop and some of the more practical parts of the house were on the lower level, with another doorway exiting onto a meadow.
She rapped on the door to the workshop twice, and then waited. If he had been in any other part of the house, save the bedroom perhaps, she might have simply entered without waiting. Things were sometimes dangerous in the shop, though, so caution was the order of the day.
“Come in, Rose,” he called to her. As usual his magesight had identified her long before she reached the door. In fact, he had probably taken note of her the moment she entered the house. It was one of the more unsettling things about living in close proximity with wizards, but she had long since grown used to it.
She launched into her subject without preamble, “I’ve received a letter from the Barony of Conradt.” She paused as she looked at the workbench. “What is that?”
“It’s supposed to be a self-heating teapot,” explained Mordecai, “but mostly it’s a steam-bomb.”
She gave him an odd look.
“It has some problems still.”
“Steam-bomb?”
Mordecai shrugged, “I’m making it for Penny, so she can make tea without having to fire up the stove. It seemed like a good idea for a present, but it keeps heating too quickly, with violent results.”
“It’s still in one piece,” she observed.
“This is the third one.”
Rose chuckled, “Well, if you get it perfected I would love one too, so long as it won’t kill me.”
“Sure,” said Mordecai. “So, what was in this letter?”
“It seems that our guest, Alyssa, was an imposter. Marie Conradt assures me that her daughter is still with them and has yet to be fostered out.”
“Have you told Gram yet?” he asked.
“Not yet. I wanted to notify you first. We need to figure out what her goal was,” she stated. “I dread telling Gram. He’s just beginning to get over this.”
“I don’t envy you that,” said Mordecai. “I’m just grateful that mine haven’t shown any interest in the opposite sex yet.”
“They’re almost seventeen; you need to think about fostering them out. The Queen would take them, and they would have many opportunities to meet the right sorts of potential marriage partners in the capital.”
The Count growled softly, “They aren’t ready yet.” Walking over to one wall, he removed the apron that protected his clothes, hanging it on a wall peg.
“They aren’t, or you aren’t?” asked Rose, pointedly. Then her eyes focused on his chest, “Is that blood on your shirt?”
Mordecai looked down, “Hmmm.” He wiped at the red stain with one finger, and then brought it to his mouth, tasting it. “Nope, jam.”
Rose shuddered involuntarily as she watched him. “How did it get there?” she asked, but then she saw him use the hem of his tunic to wipe his hands. “Never mind, I think I’ve figured it out. How Penny puts up with you, I’ll never understand.”
“We grew up in similar circumstances,” he reminded her.
“She has adapted to society far better than you have.”
“There are multiple possibilities,” said Rose. “Assassination or information gathering for a foreign state are the first two that come to mind.”
“No one is dead.”
“Yet,” corrected Rose. “Or it could be that she was forced to leave before completing her assignment. Her entanglement with my son became a liability for her when I returned. She knew of my letter to Marie Conradt.”
“I haven’t been politically involved in years,” noted the Count.
“A foreign state might not know that, or care,” said Rose. “As far as I have been able to discover, she didn’t spend much time asking questions, though. Did she ever visit your family here?”
Mordecai shook his head, “No. Penny kept the socializing to the castle.”
“Then we know very little.”
“Welcome to my world,” he replied.
“I’ll send inquiries out, but I don’t expect to learn anything,” said Rose, studying his features. Mordecai was still an attractive man, despite the years. Then her eyes lit on a spot on his cheek. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed, exasperated. Drawing out her handkerchief, she put the corner in her mouth before leaning forward to clean the jam from the Count’s face.
“Thank you, Rose.” His blue eyes seemed to sparkle and Rose stepped back, keeping her face neutral; only age and experience saved her from a telling blush.
“You’re welcome,” she told him. I’ve been alone too long. She left then, going in search of Penny.
Chapter 29
Autumn slowly gave way to winter, and while Gram knew he would never forget Alyssa, she came to dominate his thoughts less frequently. He devoted himself to his training, and just as Cyhan had predicted, he found helping his fellow soldiers improve was a rewarding challenge.
Thornbear (Book 1) Page 24