“We’ve come a long way since that storage shed by the river,” Sean said, referencing the place where Callie had once held him captive while waiting for ransom money. “We’re in another kingdom and in a lord’s service. We didn’t meet as children, but we’re now farther away from childhood than we’ve ever been, separated from those who raised us. We’re in the beginning of a new chapter of our lives, so we have to leave childish things behind and take full responsibility for our actions. I hope you can respect that.”
Callie felt mildly insulted at first, but she bit her lip and nodded. Sean knew her better than anyone in the entire manor, so perhaps this thinly veiled admonishment was warranted.
“You may not be very happy now, but take things one step at a time. Get to know people, make some friends and accomplices, and things will get better. And if there’s anything I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask. Goodnight, Callie.”
She stood there dumbfounded, and she could only utter farewell after he turned and ambled away. She watched him a moment as he ascended the slope then slowly went inside. With the children put to bed, it was only Olivia and her husband who greeted her. Olivia didn’t pry, but Callie told her friend about the prime rib dinner to make her jealous. Olivia replied, “Hun, if he can give you prime rib, he’s a keeper!”
Suffering from wine-fueled exhaustion, Callie unceremoniously removed her kirtle and dropped into bed. Sean’s farewell speech ran through her mind before sleep claimed her, and she made a personal vow to take his words to heart. He was right, she wasn’t a child anymore, and she was now dedicated to a lord of Lonsaran. It was time to leave childish dreams of ransacking and swashbuckling behind and join a community of honest, hard-working villagers.
As for Sean himself, it was probably for the best that he hadn’t said what she predicted. But if so, why was she more than a little miffed at him?
After breakfast which Callie helped Olivia prepare, she reported for duty at one of the manor’s numerous barns. Sarah Clensky was her supervisor, a plump woman in her fifties who reminded Callie of her old headmistress in the maids’ camp, only Sarah was less severe. Sarah put her to work milking one of the fifty cows who were mooing their discontent over having full udders.
As she yanked on the bovine’s teats, she overheard conversations between other workers. There were the usual fawning and grievances over offspring, and complaints over household chores, but what really piqued her interest were complaints about husbands. Two women expressed concern over how their mates didn’t give them much attention anymore and openly wondered if they were unfaithful. Callie considered offering to stalk their husbands to see if their worries were valid. It could give her a little money on the side and bring in other opportunities. It took some doing, but she eventually changed her mind after remembering what Sean said last night. She needed to remain honest and not start trouble, but it seemed the young clanswoman in her wanted to keep going as a stalker and sneakthief.
After filling two pails with milk, she helped put the cows out to pasture. Sir Barnes caught her leading an animal by the collar and asked if they were still on for training later that day. She hesitated, briefly reconsidering the rendezvous, but she ended up confirming it.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll bring the training blades and some water. Hope you don’t mind, but I like to eat after training. Care to join me for that?”
Oh great, he’s turning this from a simple sparring to a full-on date, she thought with a frown. “Well, okay, but I don’t want to go all the way into town.”
“No, the servants’ dining room should be sufficient,” Sir Barnes said. “I shall await you at the tree atop the hill.”
They said farewell, and Callie shook her head at herself. In truth, she wasn’t very interested in seeing him, but yesterday when he made the offer, she couldn’t say no. He had praised her for collaring the man who had poisoned Dio, and he said he wanted to see how her sparring skills were. They were just the right things to say to her, and in spite of her inherent dislike and mistrust of the gentry, she decided to accept and see what came of it. If anything, being seen with him might help her build a favorable reputation in the community.
And he was ridiculously handsome. As much as she wanted to be beyond such a base instinct, she had to confess he was a virtual feast for the eyes.
At the appointed midday hour, she met him at the solitary maple tree that overlooked the wheat and barley fields. She came dressed in her usual jerkin and trousers along with leather vambraces and greaves. He was similarly armored though his defenses were made of steel. He wasted no time in starting, tossing her a wooden sword and yelling “En guarde!”
It had been a long morning, and milking and feeding cows had made her tired and sluggish. Fortunately Sir Barnes anticipated this, so he took it easy and slow at first, allowing her to remain on offense awhile. By the time he ramped up his efforts, she was ready for him, countering his strikes with aplomb. With her heart furiously pumping and her muscles tightening, she began to enjoy herself, experiencing the old thrill of fighting for honor and survival, as she had in the mean streets of the Rim.
By the time she took two sips from her waterskin and her sweaty brow soaked up autumn’s chill, she suspected that Sir Barnes was holding back. After an hour’s worth of training, she had tagged him only two times—his reflexes were that good. And as her dormant skills began to awaken, Sir Barnes purposely met her strikes with his vambraces, allowing for easy ripostes.
“Good technique,” she said, “but won’t your arm be sore?”
“I’m sure it will,” Sir Barnes replied. “But how can I perfect a technique if I don’t practice it? But if you’re concerned about me, I shall cease.”
“I’m not—” She was going to say concerned but didn’t want to come across as insensitive, nor did she want to sound like she was playing hard-to-get. “Do you usually wear a full suit on the battlefield?”
“Of course, that’s why I practice with these on. They help me manage the weight of the steel. You should try it yourself.”
“Maybe another time,” Callie said. She had been trained for quickness and stealth, which steel defenses didn’t always allow, and she preferred to keep her skills the way they were.
As the sun began its descent to the forested western hills, the depths of Sir Barnes’ skills emerged. His footing seemingly grew erratic, though a trained eye could tell that every step was intentional and calculated. Callie had a rough time keeping track of his location, and he tagged her more times than she cared to count. “It’s only me, you know,” she said. “You don’t need to pretend you’re surrounded.”
“But this is practice,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “Pretending is the whole point.”
She scoffed. He was just making an excuse to show off his agility. But while she was irritated on the surface, inside she was a little frightened. This man really was highly skilled, and if their fight was genuine, he could probably overcome her. It reminded her of a lesson from one of her clan instructors: No matter how good you are, there is always someone better. Should you face such an opponent, the best thing to do is run, ’cause wounded pride always feels better than a wounded limb.
“Ready to call it quits?” Sir Barnes asked after they had their third drink of water.
“One more bout please. I think I can see a way to get past you.”
He chuckled, and they faced off with offensive stances. Callie delivered the first blow, which he met with his vambrace. The sound of wood striking metal reverberated harshly in her ears, making her grit her teeth as she breathed deeply through her nose. She stepped to the side, trying to avoid an expected riposte, only to receive nothing. It should have been an easy tag for him; perhaps he was tiring. She kept up the pace, striking his sword over and over only a few steps away. She noticed signs of fatigue in his features, so she believed a strong parry would be enough to overcome him …
But once she tried, Sir Barnes slid his sword along hers, pushed it away, and stepped in close enough to trip her. She landed on her back and lost her grip on the sword. Sir Barnes kicked the sword away and pointed his own at her breast, his face stoic. It was like the duel with Brian all over again, but this time she didn’t have a chance of winning by drawing first blood.
Sir Barnes held his pose for an unnerving moment before making a smirk. “Could we be related and not know it? We look so much alike, you and I.” He put his sword aside and offered a hand. Callie took it while smirking herself.
“You think we could be twins, separated at birth?” she asked, brushing her trousers.
“Always a possibility. I just wanted to know before we started to see each other in earnest.”
In earnest? she thought. Oh, these highborn and their silly phrases!
Misreading her expression, Sir Barnes said, “If I made you upset, just remember: Gaining great skills is a lofty goal, but what you use your skills for is more important. On the night of the feast, you caught a killer trying to escape. For that, I stand before you, humbled.”
Callie raised an eyebrow and nearly accused him of being full of shit. But after briefly weighing her options, she settled for simply saying, “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, my lady. Shall we eat?”
They went to the servants’ dining hall, made plates of ham and vegetables, and seated themselves outdoors. “Most people like to train on full stomachs,” Sir Barnes said. “But I think food settles better afterward, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m fine either way,” Callie replied. She stole a glance at him as he ate, noting how they really could come across as siblings. They had the same eye color, and both of their hair was jet black and shared the same texture.
“Do you like it here?” Sir Barnes asked.
“Yes … well, it’ll take some getting used to. I grew up in a city. A lot of nice people there, but also a lot of pushy ones.”
“And you’re used to pushing back?”
“Yeah, well … I had to!”
He chuckled. “This place isn’t so different; you just have to be more selective about who to push.”
“I suppose. And how are you?”
Sir Barnes sighed through his nose as he chewed. “Not well. I am only biding my time until I may leave with the count and my mistress’ remains.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“On the contrary, I’m glad you did. I’ve been keeping busy, helping the farmers here and there, but ever since Lady Millerton died, I’ve been far from happy. Our match today was a nice distraction, and I thank you for it.”
“Where is Lady Millerton? Not buried, is she?”
“She’s … being kept in the wine cellar. I protested this location of choice, but I see now there are few other places to keep her.”
“Where is she to be buried?”
“I am not sure. She should be interred at her home in Maven Province, but it would take me another month to get there, and the mountains make it rough. The stasis spell on her will end soon, so it appears as if interring at the palace will be the best choice … if His Majesty permits it.”
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”
“You are too kind, my lady, but …” He took a sip of apple cider, considering his next words carefully. “Reputation is very important to those of the peerage; it can mean the difference between being a prosperous lord or a pauper prince. My mistress’ reputation was not spotless, so His Majesty may refuse burial at the palace.”
“That’s awful.”
“It is, though she was not an awful person. Regardless of what people said of her, I loved her anyway.”
It didn’t strike Callie right away as she ate more of her ham, but there was something suggestive in Sir Barnes’ tone of voice when he spoke of love. Had he loved Lady Millerton as more than just a knight? Had she cuckolded her husband with her champion, and did her ill reputation stem from that?
“I am currently living on the generosity of Count Guyver,” Sir Barnes continued. “I offered my services to him, but he declined. I fear I shall become a hedge knight, going from one noble to the next to beg for scraps.”
“Or you could settle down here,” Callie suggested. “You said you’ve been helping already.”
“No, my lady, once a man has been knighted, he must live under a lord’s service or else suffer contempt. The only other option is to join the Church, where no one shall cruelly judge him like everyone else.”
Callie shook her head, disgusted by the gentry’s stuffy ideas of honor and tradition. Still, she felt sorry for him, for she understood what it was like to feel trapped within a certain lifestyle. And no matter how inappropriate his relationship with Lady Millerton was, Callie pitied him if his love for her had been real.
“Speaking of burials, Mr. Tranquilli had been interred this morning,” Sir Barnes said. “Were you invited to attend?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to go. I didn’t know the guy, and I think some people hate me for not preventing the poisoning.”
“But you didn’t know poison was going to be used. You couldn’t prevent something you knew nothing about.”
“Well, please explain that to them.”
“I shall if you’d like, but if they are God-loving people, they will forgive you in time, for there is nothing to forgive. You were as blind as farmers who know not when the cicadas will come. You have certainly earned my trust.”
Callie blushed and tried to hide it by digging into her meal. She had been told by fellow clansmen more than once not to trust people who were excessively complimentary … but dammit, Sir Barnes was so good at it.
“This may be our final farewell,” Sir Barnes said as he walked her to Olivia’s cottage.
“Actually, the guard captain said I’ll be coming with the count to the city. I’ll be put on watch at his home there.”
“Wonderful! I should very much like to see you again, my lady. There are places in Asturia I’d love to show you.”
“Well, no promises … but no objections, either.” She giggled and immediately hated herself for it.
They found Olivia’s children playing with neighbors by a tree stump; they stopped whatever game they were doing to stare at the couple who stood by the front door.
“I shall not impose on you during the trip,” Sir Barnes said. “You have your friends to talk with, and I am supposed to still be in mourning.”
“Um, thanks, I guess?”
He chuckled. “You are not like most ladies I’ve met, but I like your pluck. I look forward to learning more about you.”
She blinked. “My … ‘pluck?’”
“If you’ll excuse me, a hot bath awaits me, and I am always punctual with my appointments. Until next time.”
As he made to leave, Callie mentally cursed herself for her awkwardness then cried, “Oh, Sir Barnes! I just wanted to say, I’m sorry for your loss. No one should have to lose a loved one that way.”
She half-expected him to grow despondent again, but he instead put on a smile that managed to melt her tough exterior, if only a little. “My thanks. And please, call me Timothy.”
She watched him go with crossed arms, and as she admired his broad shoulders and the curve of his back, she thought to herself, What the hell did I get myself into?
“Oooooo, Timothyyyyyy!” the children cried, and they giggled at the ugly face Callie gave them. She ran a few steps towards them to make them scatter, then headed inside to refresh herself and reflect on two dates that could hardly have been more different from one another.
Fourteen
On Thursday morning, Sean thanked Master Harris for his lessons and said farewell; Harris told him not to let the door hit his bum on the way out. Once Sean left the alchemy lab, he couldn’t resi
st peering back inside and sticking his tongue out, and he ran as his master ranted something about the younger generation not showing respect to their elders.
Sean and Jonas then mounted a mare and went through the manor gates to join the count’s convoy, which consisted of thirty carts and wagons chockfull of fruits, vegetables, and livestock, along with four carriages for the count and his advisors. The young mage made sure to greet his lord to validate his attendance, and about an hour later the convoy began its way to the capital city of Asturia.
Rain bogged them down on the first day, but the next two days brought clear skies and enough sunshine to lift most of the cold puddles. They stopped at two hamlets and traded food for supplies and information, and Sean used his disinfecting spell to help villagers who were sick or injured. For dinner, local butchers roasted veal and venison for the convoy, and Sean, Callie and Jonas had what would be the last of their meals together around large bonfires.
On the fourth day, the convoy passed through a local lord’s estate, marked by sturdy adobe dwellings and an increased number of travelers. Shortly after, they arrived at the great perimeter wall of Asturia, made of granite and mortar that was magically protected by a concealed network of runes and crystals. It stretched in either direction for nearly as far as the eye could see, disappearing into lowlands where trees were not allowed to grow lest they be used as climbing points.
Once Count Guyver signed some parchments and paid a fee, the gate patrol allowed the convoy entry. Inside, Sean looked curiously at the numerous buildings which were constructed of similar materials to those in St. Mannington but were designed to take up as little space as possible. Homes were more often than not terraced houses that were linked together, where the front doors of neighbors were mere paces apart. Residents could probably hear what neighbors were doing through the interior walls, and although Sean was used to living in a house with servants, he wondered how blood-related families dealt with such a lack of privacy.
The Hunt for the Three Roses Page 21