A need grew in Anna’s chest, that irresistible, all-too-familiar urge to take Tullian for a ride. She quickly bundled herself in her warmest riding gear before racing to the stable. The gray light from the dawning morning spilled into the dark stable as Anna pulled open one door and slipped through. Inside, the horses rested, content to continue their slumber in the warmth of the stable. Not surprisingly, though, over the edge of Tullian’s stall door, the charcoal nose of her steed poked. Anna walked to her good friend and saw his nostrils flare before he blew out a frustrated explosion of air. She stroked his velvety muzzle, sensing that he wanted to be free of the structures of the keep as much as she. Her own compulsion to fly over the pristine fields was so overpowering that she didn’t bother with bridle, reins, or saddle. Once outside the curtain wall, they turned east toward the rolling hills.
They raced forward to greet the sun as it lifted its face over the approaching rise. She could make out the trees, their branches unmoving and black against a brightening sea of blues and purples. All around, sound was suspended, blotted out by the thick snow. The only noise was Tullian’s heaving breath and the dull pounding of his hooves. The hood of her cloak had long ago flown back, and her eyes streamed with tears as together they raced over the landscape. Her fingers, entwined in Tullian’s mane, remained warm. The first hill was before them. Riding bareback, Anna felt the raw power of her steed’s muscles as they bunched and extended, his strides lengthening to take the incline without slowing.
They crested the first hill, and the sun’s rays speared into the sky and through the bare trees, sending a million arrows of light to the west. Anna pulled up and turned to witness its flood spill into the basin below. The bruised blue-white fields changed before her eyes into a jewel-encrusted robe. Except for their lone path, the snow was unspoiled. Shadowed pockets of opalescence gave the expanse texture. Anna gazed at the mournful path, at once beautiful and sad in its solitude. Her path, she thought.
Tullian, eager to move again, blasted his breath from his nostrils in steamy explosions. “All right, Tully-boy, let’s go,” she said, and they wheeled back to the east to descend the first hill before climbing another. And many more, until they had their fill and turned for home.
Riding up to the stable, she saw Gilles frowning, hands on hips. Will, carrying a bridle and blanket, ran from the stable upon hearing Tullian. He stared at Anna with relief.
Warning bells sounded in her head, so she jumped from Tullian’s back and ran to Gilles. “What’s happened?” she demanded. “Tell me at once.” Gilles made no reply but tilted his head toward the stable where, just inside, Cellach waited with an angry scowl.
“You’d best go into the stable, m’lady,” Gilles suggested, casting a nervous glance around the courtyard. “It’ll be warmer.”
Once inside, she asked again what had happened, directing the question to Cellach, who was still frowning menacingly.
“What happened, you ask? You happened!” Cellach bellowed. “Will found Tullian gone. Then Grainne said that you were not in your chamber. The soldiers at the gate had changed, and the last watch had to be tracked down before we discovered that you had ridden out. Alone!”
Anna’s first instinct was to laugh. Cellach’s posture was so exactly like her mother’s that she found it difficult to squash the knot of mirth. But Cellach was not her mother. He had no right to question her doings in so abrupt a manner.
Her hackles rose. “Am I to understand that I am not allowed the freedom to leave the keep as I wish?” she seethed. “Has Lord Roger ordered you to follow me?” Hah, she thought; she could see Cellach reining in his temper at the mention of Roger. “Should I give you a daily schedule or would you prefer a weekly diary?” She glared at them, daring them to answer.
Cellach stiffened. Gilles looked away uncomfortably. It was Will who finally broke the heated silence. “There is no such order upon us, m’lady. We were worried. We wanted to…” He fumbled to find the right words.
Gilles intervened. “Cellach, don’t you think it’s time? She has a right to know.”
“Fine. But not here.” His jaw set, and he turned his attention back to Anna. “Lady Aubrianne, if you have time this morning in your schedule, might you give me a moment of it?” There was a steel edge to the sarcasm in Cellach’s voice, one she’d not heard ere now.
“Mind your tone, Cellach. I will not be spoken to in such a way,” she answered, matching her mettle against his. “We’ll speak now.”
“Please, m’lady,” Cellach quietly urged, “we should speak privately. Perhaps in the armory.” Anna could tell it took great effort for him to speak politely, even if it was done so through gritted teeth. She nodded and followed him from the stable.
• • •
“M’lady, you must give me your word that what is said in this chamber will not be repeated to anyone. Gilles may trust you, but it is not only his life that I am protecting.” He watched as she took stock of the weapons before stepping over to his worktable in the corner.
“I see. And do you trust me, Cellach?” she asked.
“Aye, Lady Aubrianne.” He looked directly into her eyes. “Your comportment this past year has earned not only my trust, but my respect as well.”
“You have my word, Cellach, on my family’s name.”
Cellach exhaled in relief. “Simply put, it is not safe for you to ride out alone. I’ve seen signs that many strange riders have been on Stolweg land. Riders who have taken great care to hide their tracks.”
“Have you told Lord Roger?” she asked.
“I believe him to be aware, m’lady. I can recognize any track made by any horse in our stable, including those made by Lord Roger’s horse and those of Gorman’s. Many times the tracks of their horses were among those of the strange riders. I do not as yet know what it means and have not risked following them. Until we can ascertain who these riders are, please let us know when you leave. It is your choice, of course”—Cellach searched for the right phrase—“but it would greatly ease our minds knowing you are safe.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Your mind, and Gilles’s? Are there others in this clandestine circle?” she queried.
“Aye. Will, Doreen, Grainne, and some others. There are those who curry favor with Lord Roger and would happily provide him with details of any suspicious behavior on our parts.”
“This group has the makings of a cabal, Cellach. I ask you again: how many are you numbered?”
“Cabal is too strong a word, m’lady, for we are not plotting to overthrow Lord Roger. We formed our circle to protect ourselves and those loyal to King Godwin. But to answer your question, there are four and thirty in our group.”
“Including Carrick the miller?” Lady Aubrianne asked. “He has always struck me as honest.”
“He is, m’lady. But we have not included him.”
“Because of Maggie, his daughter,” she said bluntly. “I don’t trust the girl. She’s always lurking about, especially near the north tower.”
Startled, Cellach wondered if his lady had discovered the relationship between Carrick’s daughter and Lord Roger. He didn’t reckon so, or she would not have said the name so easily. Still, he was impressed by her intuition. “It would be wise to steer clear of that girl. She is not to be trusted.”
“All right, Cellach. This circle of yours, how do you meet? Surely Lord Roger’s men would report any gathering.”
“We take great care, m’lady, and do not meet often. Instead, we pass word to one another. When we meet, we do it in small groups in the chapel.”
“When Lord Roger is away?” she asked.
“No, m’lady,” Cellach said, and he saw the surprise in her eyes, followed by a nod of understanding. “You’ve guessed why, I see. Your husband would never imagine that we would conspire right under his nose. He has little use for the chapel; when our clergyman passed away, Lord Roger never bothered finding a replacement. We have continued to use the chapel as a place of worship and reflection. So
our presence there is not in question.”
Lady Aubrianne stepped to the window and peered down at the courtyard. “Cellach,” she said as she turned back to him, “what exactly do you think my husband is doing? Does it have anything to do with his absences?”
“We don’t know. But he has been fortifying Stolweg since he first married Lady Isabel,” Cellach replied.
“Grainne has already explained some of this, how Lord Roger’s behavior changed once Lady Isabel’s father passed away.”
“I suppose Grainne has confided many things,” Cellach said. “She wasn’t exactly correct when she said that Lord Roger changed. I believe he stopped pretending to be someone else, and reverted to his true nature, one that is inherently cruel.”
“Grainne told me the story of Lady Isabel,” Anna began. “But something in her tale has always bothered me.” Cellach listened as she repeated Grainne’s words. “‘Lord Roger grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me to the window. With his other hand, he opened the shutters and forced me to look down at the scene below.’ Cellach, if Lady Isabel truly jumped from her window, how could the shutters have been latched?”
Chapter Sixteen—Carrick’s Wife
A day did not pass that Anna didn’t think upon the dangerous web in which she’d been captured. Years ago, when it became evident that she was different from other girls, her father had bestowed upon her a dagger that had once belonged to his father. She began tucking it into the folds of her overtunic, carrying it whenever she left the keep. At night, she made sure it was always within reach.
The blade was with her right now, although she didn’t think she would need it. She was in the great hall, and today was the day that the people of Stolweg could come to her for treatment of pain, illness, and injury. Grainne had suggested this, for the recent weeks had been bitterly cold, and her people could come for winter supplies as well.
Anna had just helped her last patient, an elderly man with pain in his joints. She was packing her basket of supplies when she noticed a woman enter the hall. It was Lia, married to Berwick, one of Stolweg’s farmers.
“Good day to you, Lia,” Anna said while searching Lia’s face, skin, and eyes for symptoms that might explain her presence. Lia burst into tears and dropped to her knees.
“Oh, m’lady,” she said between great sobs. “I think I’m with child!”
“But this is wonderful, Lia. Berwick must be so pleased.”
“No, m’lady. It is the very worst thing that can happen to a woman here.”
“What do you mean?” Anna asked as gently as she could, for she could see the fear in Lia’s eyes that they might be overheard.
“Ever since Carrick’s wife died,” Lia started, stopping when she heard the sound of boots in the corridor. “I’m sorry, m’lady,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have come here. Please, say nothing to your husband.”
“I’ll keep your secret, Lia,” Anna promised. “But I’ll come to your croft next week. We can talk then.” This put the woman at ease, and she left the hall as quietly as she had come. What did Carrick’s wife have to do with Lia’s fear? Anna wanted answers and knew exactly where to find them. She headed to the kitchens.
Grainne was there, chatting with Doreen about the garden. “…been warmer than usual. And the snow’s almost all gone. I think we might get an early start on cleaning the herb beds,” she was saying. When she saw Anna, she gave her a welcoming smile.
“Tell me about Carrick’s wife and the absence of young children here,” she said. Grainne and Doreen turned to each other and nodded.
“I was going to tell you, m’lady, to warn you,” Grainne began with a sigh. “But then I saw what you put in your tea each day. Forgive me if this is too forward, but it’s to avoid being with child, is it not?” Anna nodded. “I know this because I supply all of the women here with the same herbs,” Grainne continued. “The women are afraid to have children, m’lady. Ever since Carrick’s wife.”
Before Anna could ask, Grainne explained. “It was right after Lady Isabel died. Carrick was away, and his wife was out sweeping the causeway by the mill. She was trampled to death. Gorman and two soldiers were riding home; they claimed not to have seen her.”
“Bah!” Doreen interjected. “You’ve seen the mill crossing; it’s broad and straight. How can you not see a person at the opposite end, and a pregnant one at that?”
Anna’s heart sank, thinking of Carrick’s loss. “What happened next?” she asked, knowing the tale was not complete.
“Upon his return, Carrick confronted Gorman in the courtyard. Many had gathered to see justice done. Lord Roger deemed it an accident. He warned us to be more careful, else the same could happen again.” Grainne took Anna’s hand and continued. “It was horrible, m’lady. Carrick launched himself at Gorman. If Gilles hadn’t been there to restrain him, to remind him that he had young Maggie to care for, I don’t think Carrick would be here today.”
“A wife dead, and an unborn child, and what did Carrick get?” Doreen demanded, then answered her own question. “A lashing ordered by Lord Roger and given by the man who murdered his wife!”
“When it was over,” Grainne finished, “I heard Lord Roger say, ‘One less Stolweg brat to deal with.’ M’lady, please tell me you are not with child.”
“No, not me, thank heaven,” Anna answered. “But Lia is, and we have to protect her.” They spent the rest of the afternoon assembling a plan that would take Lia east, to the border of Stolweg and Whitmarsh. Doreen had cousins there who could shelter the woman.
When Anna retired that night, she realized that she needed more than her horses to survive, and more than her herbs and flowers. She needed moments like the one spent in Doreen’s kitchen. Working together for a common cause, with good friends, gave her new purpose. It was time to do more than watch as her husband tightened his grip on the people of Stolweg; it was time to take an active role in the shaping of her own life and of those around her.
Chapter Seventeen—Loyalty and Retribution
Will looked on as Lord Roger interrogated Lady Aubrianne about the mares. She faced her husband without fear as he cornered her in one of the empty stalls. Her strength gave Will newfound, but dangerous, courage.
Rina, Dragonfly, Sea Star, and Willow had foaled in the spring; three more were expected over the summer. Will couldn’t understand why Lord Roger was impatient to have the mares mated again so quickly. Lady Aubrianne explained that she had already done so with Rina and Dragonfly, but that only Dragonfly had conceived. The results of Rina’s matching would be clear in the next few weeks.
“And Jessa?” Lord Roger demanded menacingly. “Why haven’t you tried with Jessa?”
Will had been with Lady Aubrianne the day that she’d attempted to breed Tullian with the skittish and high-strung mare. Jessa had lashed out wickedly at the stallion. So before Lady Aubrianne could answer, Will jumped to her defense. “But she has tried. Jessa is too nervous to let Tullian near her, er, sir. Beg pardon, m’lord.”
Lord Roger glared at him, galled that a servant would interrupt him. He raised his hand to strike, but stopped when Lady Aubrianne stayed his arm. Will cowered back regardless, so delighted was Lord Roger’s face. “So, you care for this whelp. How very fortunate for him.”
It was the first time that Will had ever seen fear in his lady’s eyes, and he felt panic catch hold in his heart. “Please, m’lord,” she started, “he didn’t mean to—”
Lord Roger sneered. “Lady Aubrianne,” he cut in, “if you’ll excuse me, I have another matter to which I must attend.” He headed to the barracks.
Lady Aubrianne leveled a look of sheer frustration at Will. “How could you be so careless!”
“But he was blaming you, m’lady. I just wanted him to know that you tried.”
“He’ll never let this go. That you even spoke to him he considers an offense.” The dread in her voice did nothing to ease his fear. “I won’t be able to protect you, Will. I shouldn’t have even t
ried.”
“But, m’lady, when he left, he didn’t seem angry.”
She looked out to the courtyard where Lord Roger had gone. “He’ll plan and prepare. He’ll hurt you. He’ll do it because by hurting you, he’s hurting me. I don’t know when, but he will. Go. Now,” she ordered. “Tell your father what has happened. And, for your own safety, stay away from Lord Roger. And Gorman.”
“M’lady, I’m sorry. I—I didn’t realize,” he stammered before racing out.
That evening, his family prayed that Lord Roger’s grudging respect for them would soften his temper. After a month passed without recriminations, Will’s worry lessened. Perhaps Lord Roger had forgotten the incident, unlikely though it seemed.
Then, one day when Will was mucking stalls and his father was away with the mares, Lord Roger entered the stable with Gorman in tow. Will heard his name called and, upon recognizing Lord Roger’s voice, picked up the heavy slop bucket and stepped from behind the partition. Gorman’s foot shot out, tripping him so that he fell to the dirt floor.
There was nothing Will could do but watch as manure and urine-laden sludge flew from the bucket and onto Lord Roger’s boots. Before he could rise, a hand seized the back of his collar and hauled him roughly to his feet. Gorman gave a satisfied grunt and twisted Will’s collar, choking him and blocking his attempts to apologize.
Will blanched, hearing Gorman’s next words. “Ten lashes, m’lord? That ought to make this pup more careful. Perhaps twenty,” Gorman amended when Will tried to twist free.
“Twenty would likely kill the boy,” Lord Roger said as if bored. “A compromise: fifteen. One blow for each of the fourteen words that he spoke out of turn that day, plus one for my boots.”
Wild Lavender: The Aurelian Guard - Book One Page 9