The Quickening

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Why indeed,’ Eryd muttered, beaten by her logic. ‘This is dangerous, my love.’

  She nodded. ‘I do know it.’ She leaned over and kissed her husband. ‘Thank you for listening.’

  ‘Do you think the King still believes you are involved?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I was at my sparkling best. But you are right, I must tread with great care.’

  ‘Let’s say you do find it’s all true…’ He stopped. It was a question he was perhaps not ready to ask.

  Helyn said nothing, all but holding her breath, wondering if her husband’s heart could stand the shock of what she was thinking.

  Eryd answered his own question. ‘Betray Morgravia?’

  His voice was leaden with the fear she also felt. She had no explanation or soft speech of comfort to help him understand. She too was reeling beneath her calm exterior. Lady Bench would far prefer to be focusing her energies on the current rumour of the seduction of one woman’s husband by her sister, but Leyen’s note, the trust she had placed in her new friend, was irrefutable. She could not ignore it.

  ‘I could never betray Morgravia, my darling,’ she said, eyes misting as she stroked his stubbled cheek. ‘But this new King of ours… I just don’t know. If any of what Leyen entrusted to me has an ounce of truth, then he is not a King we would want to be loyal to.’

  Eryd took his wife’s chubby hands and stared at her intently. ‘He may be new and young but he is not to be trifled with. From what I can tell, beneath the vain and seemingly shallow veneer lurks a mind sharp enough to cut and bright enough to blind. You did well to throw him off your scent, but do not be fooled by him… not ever.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  ELSPYTH ARRIVED ON THE outskirts of the duchy by dusk. A middle-aged travelling monk called Brother Lewk with a donkey in tow took pity on the lone, clearly exhausted woman and suggested she ride the beast along the road as far as the town of Brynt, the largest in Felrawthy. Elspyth, believing the monk was indeed a gift from Shar, gladly accepted his generous offer. She enjoyed his thoughtful company as he walked alongside and regretted it when they crested a rise and he pointed out Brynt below. To the north lay the sprawling pastures of the duke’s private lands.

  ‘That’s where you’re headed, my girl,’ the monk said, ‘although you are most welcome to travel into Brynt with me if you care to.’

  Elspyth smiled wearily. ‘I must keep moving, father, but I do thank you for your company and my fine steed.’ She climbed off the beast and patted its coarse hair, marvelling at the serenity in its large dark eyes. I’d give anything right now for your simple life, my friend, she thought.

  Turning, she looked into the genial grey eyes in a gently frowning face. ‘I shouldn’t miss him for a day or so you know,’ her companion said. ‘Why don’t you take him? I imagine the duke will have opportunity enough to have the little fellow returned to me. I’ll be at Brynt for several days yet.’

  Elspyth felt her heart fill. Perhaps there was hope for Morgravia with people like this in it. She could hardly refuse, knowing she was in no state to walk many more steps. ‘I am surely blessed to have met you, father. Thank you for this. I shall ensure he is well fed, watered and returned tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, no hurry, child. He certainly doesn’t hurry for anyone,’ he said, face crinkling into the merriest of smiles. ‘Shar guide you in your travels.’

  And so it was with some surprise that the noble Donal family welcomed yet another bedraggled and fatigued young woman, this one arriving by donkey. Crys was at the guardhouse, briefing the man on duty regarding new security and the locking of Tenterdyn’s gates. As the woman slipped off her mount and landed unceremoniously on her backside outside the gates of Tenterdyn, Crys Donal smiled for the first time since hearing the shocking news of his brother’s untimely death.

  A gloom had settled over the Donal family home since Ylena’s story had been told. Ylena had once again retired for a much-needed rest. With the physician’s approval, a mild soporific had been administered and she was released from her memories as a blanketing sleep claimed her. The others had no such relief and were left to pick over the horrific account of Alyd’s brutal beheading — without trial, without even so much as the conviction of a crime.

  Even more chilling was the revelation that his head had been placed in the dungeon with his wife, and when Ylena had informed them that she had carried the remains of their loved one to Felrawthy, the Donals were shattered. Ylena had left it to Crys to withdraw Alyd’s head from the sack, refusing to gaze upon the tragic sight again.

  The viewing had left each of the family shaken and withdrawn. Jeryb took his leave to shut himself away in his study where he intended to ponder the right path for revenge. His words left his family in no doubt that Felrawthy would shortly engage in civil war against the Crown. It was an unthinkable scenario. Crys was still churning over the notion in his mind as he helped the young woman up from the ground.

  A grin escaped, in spite of his bleak mood. ‘A theatrical arrival,’ he commented.

  ‘My apologies, sir,’ Elspyth replied, a little fractious. ‘I have been travelling a long time.’ She disengaged herself from his arms.

  ‘So I see,’ he said, taking in her ragged appearance but not smiling this time as he could see it had niggled her. ‘Please forgive my poor manners. I am Crys Donal, eldest son of the Duke of Felrawthy.’

  Elspyth looked at him and felt disarmed as she properly appreciated his looks and quality clothes. More people resembling her companion emerged from the house and crossed the courtyard towards her — they were a handsome family, she noted. But no one looked especially pleased to see her; in fact everyone looked downright miserable.

  ‘Crys,’ said the tall, regal-looking woman, ‘where are your manners?’

  ‘I was just apologising for the loss of same, mother. I’d introduce you if I knew who was paying us a visit.’

  Elspyth blushed and smoothed her grubby garments with dusty hands. ‘I’m sorry. My name is Elspyth. I am a friend of…’ She was momentarily confused: Wyl was the friend but Romen was the man he’d walked as. She chose: ‘…of Wyl Thirsk,’ she said firmly and saw alarm spread across the faces before her.

  ‘Have I said something wrong?’ she whispered to Crys.

  He shook his head sadly. ‘No. Just more shock for an already distraught family. Elspyth, may I introduce Aleda, Duchess of Felrawthy, my mother. My father, Duke Jeryb…’ Elspyth found herself involuntarily curtsying as the duke regarded her ‘…and this is one of my three brothers, Daryn.’

  Elspyth smiled tentatively towards the young man.

  ‘The other, Jorge, is with his beloved horses, I presume, and my youngest brother,’ Crys added in a different tone, ‘we have learned only today is dead. Forgive us our sober welcome.’

  The duke took charge. ‘But perhaps you already know of this if Wyl Thirsk is your friend?’

  Elspyth looked at him directly, sensed his keen pain and softened her tone. ‘I do, sir. I am deeply regretful for your family. Alyd was your youngest?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Did you know him?’ the duchess asked. Elspyth could see her eyes were red but not sore from tears. She fancied this was a strong woman. ‘I did not, my lady, only of him.’ The duchess nodded, knuckles white where her hands gripped each other.

  ‘Er, may I ask, please, if Ylena Thirsk has made contact with your family?’ Elspyth ventured.

  It was Crys who answered. ‘We met her by chance at a town about half a day’s ride from the estate.’

  ‘So… she’s here?’ Elspyth could hardly believe her good fortune.

  Aleda nodded. ‘Exhausted and mercifully sleeping upstairs. Please, come inside,’ Aleda added. ‘You look travel-weary, my dear. Let us organise some refreshment for you.’

  Crisp orders were given and before Elspyth knew it she was luxuriating in a bath with scented oils. It felt like a healing, an opportunity to clean away the grime but also to cleanse her wrecked emoti
ons and focus her thoughts. On the road, fatigue and hunger had sharpened her sense of rage at all that had happened to her and those she liked and indeed loved. Now, immersed in the fragrant water in the comfortable surrounds of a beautiful chamber, she felt some of that anger float away.

  Despite the dozens of questions she sensed they wanted to ask, the duke and his family were extremely gracious to allow her this comfort time as soon as she arrived. In truth, it was the duchess who would not hear of any discussion until Elspyth had enjoyed the opportunity to bathe and feel like a woman again. She liked Aleda very much, even though she hardly knew her, and smiled now, recalling the glare the duchess had given her men when they had tried to interrogate her as soon as she stepped into the house and accepted a cool refreshing drink.

  There was a soft knock at the door. Aleda entered. ‘Is everything to your satisfaction, my dear?’

  ‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ Elspyth said. ‘I have never felt more spoiled.’

  The older woman gave a sad smile. ‘You’ve probably never felt more tired or tested either,’ she said softly, setting down a lamp to brighten the rapidly darkening chamber.

  Elspyth nodded, felt the tears burning. ‘It hasn’t been easy.’

  ‘I gathered as much and I apologise now for my husband’s gruff manner. He is suffering, you know… we all are.’ She snapped herself from her bleak tone. ‘Will you be up to talking with us later?’

  ‘Of course, my lady. It is why I’ve travelled this far.’

  ‘Good girl. I shall make arrangements for dinner. Perhaps you could rest now for a while? Ylena, as I mentioned, has been forced to sleep, but she should be up and around shortly. You’ll like her. We all do.’

  Elspyth saw the duchess grit her teeth to stop the emotion flowing over.

  ‘How is she coping?’

  ‘She’s rather amazing to tell the truth. I can tell she’s deeply fearful of Celimus and which of his killers might be tracking her. But she’s a Thirsk and that family’s blood runs thick with courage.’

  Elspyth smiled. ‘I know what you mean. If she’s anything like her brother, then she’ll be looking to make Celimus pay.’

  Aleda frowned. ‘You speak of Wyl as though he lives. You do know what happened to him, don’t you?’ she offered hesitantly.

  Elspyth felt trapped. She nodded for want of how to answer the duchess without lying. She changed the subject quickly. ‘I am so sorry about Alyd, duchess.’ She did not know what else to say; even the little she had said was hollow comfort.

  The duchess forced a shaky smile. ‘I can’t bear to think on it just yet.’ She rose and went to the door. ‘Rest, my dear. We shall see you later. And you must call me Aleda, please.’

  Later came all too soon for Elspyth but she felt a lot stronger for the peace and quiet she had enjoyed in a soft bed from where she could gaze out the window to the heather drifts on the surrounding hills. Aleda had arranged for clothes and other toiletry requisites to be brought to her, and for the first time in a very long time Elspyth sensed her old resilient self was in command again.

  The three older members of the family were gathered in the reception room. A fire added some much-needed cheer; near to it sat a novice monk named Pil. She learned through Crys, who showed a new appreciation for their freshly bathed and rested guest, that it was Pil who had been Ylena’s companion on her journey north.

  ‘And what will you do now, Pil?’ Elspyth asked, kindness in her voice as she recognised a fellow sufferer unwittingly trapped in this strange web created by the witch, Myrren. She shuddered inwardly at the anticipation of having to say more about Wyl Thirsk’s strange life.

  The young monk shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I could not think beyond bringing the Lady Ylena to Felrawthy. I should like to return to my Order, but there is nothing at Rittylworth to return to,’ he said, his sadness evident.

  Elspyth nodded, knowing all too well about the state of Rittylworth. She took the proffered goblet of wine from Crys and smiled at him before turning back to the novice.

  ‘Pil, I hope it’s not out of place for me to mention this, but I met a wonderful man on my way here. A monk, like yourself. He travels, spreading the word and doing the work of Shar as best he can from town to village, county to duchy. It was his kindness that saw me reach Tenterdyn as swiftly as I did. I have promised to return the donkey he lent me — perhaps you might take the beast into Brynt where Brother Lewk is staying for a few days? You may find that the two of you have something in common.’

  Pil’s eyes shone as he understood her meaning instantly. ‘Would he allow it?’

  She grinned at his pleasure. ‘You mean for you to accompany him in his work?’ He nodded. ‘Why should he refuse you, Pil? He’s not a young man, I might add, but he is learned and wise. I suspect both of you could do far worse for a travelling companion.’

  The young man beamed. Having viewed the smouldering remains of Rittylworth she imagined he had not had much to be bright about lately. ‘Oh, I shall definitely seek him out, Elspyth. I do thank you.’

  Elspyth enjoyed the warmth it gave her heart to be able to help someone with a few simple words. She sipped her wine and felt a new sort of warmth slip down her throat. Raising her glass to Crys, she saw his eyes sparkle at her over his own glass and realised he was flirting with her. She hurriedly looked aside. If the younger brother was anything like him, she could see why Ylena had been in such a rush to marry him. As she was thinking this, she noticed all those about her suddenly stiffen. She followed their gaze to the doorway where a glorious young woman stood.

  ‘Ah, Ylena, my dear,’ said the duchess. She moved elegantly across the room and, putting an arm around her guest’s shoulders, guided her in. ‘We want you to meet someone … a friend. This is Elspyth. She was a companion of your brother and has travelled a long way to meet you.’

  Ylena’s gaze settled on Elspyth who felt suddenly plain and awkward amongst such noble company. Ylena was a rare beauty and not at all what she had expected. Wyl had certainly mentioned his sister’s prettiness but this poised young woman was exceptional.

  ‘How good of you to come all this way,’ Ylena said and bowed to Elspyth.

  ‘My lady.’ Elspyth followed suit, not quite so elegantly, feeling the relief of knowing she had kept her promise and found Ylena. ‘I am so glad you are safe. Wyl sent me to ensure that you reached Felrawthy.’

  Ylena’s brow creased with a frown. ‘When did he do this?’

  Elspyth took a deep breath. Ylena’s simple question had cut through all the hesitant politeness and niceties. The time had arrived: she must tell them Wyl’s story. Wyl had asked her to keep his secret from Ylena, but Elspyth had decided it was wrong to do so, that his sister needed to hear the truth.

  She gathered everyone’s attention by her grave look. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘I have a long story to tell you all — and not an easy one. It will shock and perhaps even frighten you, but I must share it so you will understand my reason for being amongst you and why Ylena must remain under your protection.’

  She watched them cast alarmed glances to one another, and then the duke nodded. The servant topped up the wine glasses and was then asked to leave.

  Pil cleared his throat. ‘Should I remain for this?’ he asked, uncertain of his place.

  ‘Not if you are horrified by the notion of magic,’ Elspyth said cryptically, and began the long story from the moment a young soldier, a General in fact, stepped into a seer’s tent one night with his friend, Alyd Donal of Felrawthy.

  The duke rose imperiously. ‘You expect us to believe that Wyl Thirsk was killed by magic?’ he blustered.

  ‘Forgive me, sir,’ Elspyth said calmly. ‘Perhaps I haven’t explained it well. Wyl Thirsk was struck down by a man called Romen Koreldy, who —’

  ‘Yes, yes! Whom Thirsk apparently became — I hear quite well,’ the duke retorted, angry and disturbed by this stranger’s news.

  Elspyth opened her mouth to reply and closed it again. A brittle r
etort would not aid understanding here.

  ‘Father, please!’ Crys said from the fireplace.

  ‘Jeryb…’ It was Aleda’s placating tone. ‘I cannot imagine this young woman has trekked from Deakyn to Felrawthy in order to make a jest at your expense.’

  The duke muttered something under his breath.

  Pil’s complexion had paled. ‘This is mystifying,’ he admitted.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Elspyth replied softly, eyeing each in turn. ‘It is, however, the truth.’

  Her gaze came to rest on Ylena, who, so far, had made no comment regarding her brother. Now she did. ‘My brother is alive?’ Everyone could hear the muted shock in her voice.

  Elspyth’s heart was pounding; she suddenly wondered if it had been a good idea to contradict Wyl’s instructions. She nodded slowly.

  ‘And you say your aunt saw this… this affliction in him?’

  Elspyth nodded again. ‘She is a seer. She called it the Quickening,’ she said, risking further rebuke from Jeryb. But none was forthcoming.

  Ylena looked suddenly thoughtful. ‘Do you know, I can remember the night you speak of. It was after the tournament… the day following my marriage with Alyd.’ Her listeners tensed at the mention of Alyd’s name but Ylena’s voice was steady. Aleda was proud to see this young woman so in control of her emotions. She alone knew how much her son had loved Ylena, having read his gushing letters many times. He had loved her since they had first met, when he was still a youth and she a child. And Alyd had impressed upon his parents how devoted she was to him. He had plans to set up their estate nearby and had joked that the fine tradition of Thirsks to the south and Donals to the north would continue as Ylena produced more fine sons for Felrawthy. That would not happen now — not through Alyd and Ylena anyway, Aleda thought, sorrow knifing through her again. She returned her mind to Ylena’s voice.