The Baroness of Clawynd

by Morgan Henry

  Tanis had supervised the packing of provisions and equipment for the group. Setha had packed for her Mistress and was eager to go on the journey. Aenid was trying to talk Merrin into forcing Setha to stay behind but Merrin wanted someone, other than himself, to ensure Aenid’s comfort. She had a hard enough journey from Dyfal to Clawynd. There was no need to make this journey as trying.

  They set out to the first of the villages that had been the victim of theft, moving quickly for such a large party. Aenid expected to lead, but Merrin quickly disabused her of that notion.

  “Even the king does not ride at the vanguard when travelling. There are knights that demand that honor. Would you deny them the pride of leading their Baroness?” Merrin asked.

  Aenid gave him a little frown. “Of course not,” she answered with a sigh. Merrin knew she was smart enough to know that he was manipulating her but she couldn’t argue.

  He smiled at her. His temper had cooled since their argument that morning. Her insistence on discharging her duty made him admire her but she had no regard for her own safety. If she had been able to wield a sword, he was certain she would have belted it on. Though she was doing an excellent job at providing leadership for her men, he couldn’t help but be irritated at her ignorance of her own limitations. Specifically, that she wasn’t able to defend herself in battle as a trained man could.

  They arrived at the small village a short time before sunset. Merrin and Aenid had sent out scouts earlier to look for any sign of troops and they were expecting them to rejoin the main group. These men were trained in tracking and rode fast horses with little armor to weigh them down. They could cover more ground than the heavier warhorses the knights rode.

  While they waited, Aenid spoke to the mayor regarding the village. She quietly asked about the thefts, but also about the welfare of the village. She knew about some of the small issues plaguing the town. There was the theft, true, but also the outlying villages had a shortage of Healers. Through the winter there was often a shortage of peddlers carrying basic wares to the people. The baroness listened to their concerns and asked what the villagers thought a solution might be.

  She made no promises to the village, other than that she would consider some of their solutions when the business with Dyfal was resolved. Merrin had no doubt she would find a way to help the smaller villages of the border.

  While camp was made for the group of knights, Aenid insisted on visiting the sick. Merrin had two of the knights accompany her as bodyguards. Aenid, of course, resisted this, but Merrin again pointed out that their pride would be hurt if they were not allowed to guard their Baroness.

  It was all he could do not to laugh when she narrowed her eyes and growled a little at him.

  She rejoined him at the fire just as the scouts were arriving to make their report.

  “How was the healing?” Merrin enquired.

  “It all went well. Most were relatively minor issues, but there was a baby with pneumonia that desperately needed help.” Aenid sat wearily on a small folding stool. Setha had appeared with a mug of mulled cider for her. “I have to find a way to get a Healer to visit the outlying villages regularly.”

  “I’m sure you will, but it can wait. The scouts have returned.”

  “Let’s hear what they have to say then.” Both Aenid and Merrin turned their attention to the scouts.

  It was quite evident that at least one large party of troops had snuck through the valleys and gullies of the foothills into Clawynd. The scouts felt that the band they had tracked were not moving fast enough to have been responsible for all the thefts in the foothills, however. Their movements suggested there was at least one other war party that was slithering into Clawynd. The scouts were able to accurately point out the trail of the intruders on their maps.

  After thanking and dismissing the scouts, Merrin pored over the maps again. “This may change our plans. We’re behind them, and if they get to Dyfal, we’ll have a damned hard time attacking his keep.”

  “If we could get word to the king, he could get ahead of them and we could trap them between us.” Aenid observed.

  Merrin looked at the map and frowned. “Only if we can get Arto here in time to add his men to ours. And we’d need to slow their pace.”

  “Now that we know more or less where they are headed, can we spare some of our scouts to act as messengers? My border guards know these valleys and gullies like the back of their hands. We could make a show of looking for them and force the intruders to hide and take longer routes to slow them,” she added.

  “Yes, I think we can slow them as you suggest. But instead of sending scouts to contact the king, I think I’ve a better way,” Merrin mused. When Aenid cocked her head at him, he continued. “Before we parted company, the king gave me a sdoro.”

  Aenid’s eyes widened. “Well, I guess if anyone would have one, it would be the king.”

  A sdoro is an enchanted device for limited communication. They are made as pairs and can be used to facilitate a short conversation between the users of the two devices. They are extremely difficult to make, must be used by a mage of moderate ability, and can only be used a few times before they cease to function. Aenid had heard of them but never actually seen or used one. They also had the additional problem of not being user specific. That is, if someone other than Merrin got hold of his sdoro, he could contact the king. For this reason, users generally had some sort of code phrase that ensured they knew who was making contact.

  “Yes. This is not for common knowledge, Aenid,” he added.

  “Of course not!” Aenid didn’t want anyone to be tempted to steal it. “Will you contact him then?

  “Yes, I think I will. It will be worth it if we can squeeze the intruders between our two forces. His Majesty and I had arranged to only try to contact each other in the evening, so I’ll go to my tent and try now.” He stood to leave. “I’ll come back shortly, but you need to eat to regain your strength after healing. I’ll have dinner when I return.”

  “Is that an order, Lord Merrin?”

  “Yes it is. Don’t make me report your disobedience to the king. He might put you in the dungeon,” Merrin teased.

  They both laughed but Merrin thought Aenid’s was a little forced. She was still irritated with him. He kissed her lightly before heading to his tent.

  * * * *

  Three days later, they were ready to spring their trap. Aenid and Merrin’s small force had made a show of looking for the intruders, slowing their pace and allowing Arto and his men to join them and the king’s forces to get in place at the other end of the valley. The valleys and gullies the troops from Torquin were using to conceal their entry into Kerban were excellent places to hide, but Aenid’s border guards knew the terrain so well they were able to redirect them almost at will.

  It was three days of hard riding for their party, but they had accomplished their goal. They had the Torquin forces united—it turned out there were two groups—and in a long valley that had only two exits. It was one of the most direct routes to Dyfal’s keep, so Aenid and Merrin’s force had purposefully kept away from it, sending only a couple of scouts give it a cursory look. Merrin was worried that if they left it completely alone, it would look too much like a trap.

  The only incident that marred their plan was a skirmish between a couple of border guards and a few of the Torquin troops. The guards had been caught by half a dozen troops that had fallen behind the main group. One of the guards was killed and the other wounded, but Aenid had been able to save him.

  This incident led to a fierce argument between Aenid and Merrin about where she would be during the planned battle.

  “I beg your pardon? You want me back behind the hills while the battle is waged? How, by the goddess, can I possibly help the troops from there?” Aenid’s chin was out and the fire in her eyes could be seen a mile in the dark.

  Merrin grasped her arm and pulled her to a less public area, despite her indignant gasp of protest.

  �
�You are not in a position to help the troops,” he informed her, shamelessly using his height to try to intimidate her. “Putting yourself in danger will only cause distraction on the battlefield.”

  “I’m not going to put myself in danger. You’ve made it quite clear that I am helpless and couldn’t defend myself against an earnest rabbit.”

  “That is not what I said—”

  “That’s what you meant!”

  “Do you think I could stand to see you hurt, Aenid? It’s not just you I’m protecting by ensuring your safety.”

  She rushed onward, not wanting to allow him to be reasonable. “If you were hurt, I would want to heal you as fast as possible. I would not want you to suffer for an instant or take the chance you would die.” Aenid’s throat closed and tried not to speak the word “die,” but she pushed past her faltering voice and gathered momentum and volume again.

  “You need to realize knights will be injured and healers actually have to be nearby to help. We do no good if our patients are already dead by the time we get there.”

  “And help you shall, just not when the battle is in question.” Had Aenid known him better, the tightness in Merrin’s voice would have betrayed how close he was to truly losing his temper.

  “I will be where I choose, when I choose.” Aenid enunciated each word and her voice deepened.

  “You will obey His Majesty and follow my orders when it comes to your safety!” Merrin’s deep voice was a little frightening when he shouted. He inhaled deeply and pulled his volume back for the next question. “Or have you forgotten your oath, Baroness?”

  Aenid’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in a surreal slow motion that made it clear how hurt and angry she was with him. Not able to speak anymore, she stalked away, shaking off his attempt to take her hand in protest.

  Aenid was livid. She could hardly believe that Merrin would trot out the order from the king to make her stay where he put her. He knew she wouldn’t disobey the king, but she was angry that he would try to keep her from her duties as Baroness. Did he think her so weak that she couldn’t stand to be near the battle? Did he dismiss her ability as a healer? She had thought he was a man she could love, but if he didn’t respect her, then how could they have a lasting relationship?

  One thing she was certain of, she would never tie herself to a man who wouldn’t allow her to be the best leader of her holding that she was capable of being. No matter how attracted to him she was.

  Chapter 14

  When the Torquin troops were in the middle of the valley, the knights of Kerban sprung their trap.

  The majority of the Torquin troops were on foot, while the Kerbans were mounted and heavily armored. It was a relatively short, one-sided, and bloody fight. The Kerbans prevailed and King Graydon showed mercy on the Torquins. He stopped the wholesale slaughter of the remaining fifty or so men out of hundreds and took them prisoner instead. They would be ransomed back to Torquin without their armor and weapons.

  Mages were rarely used in battle. For the most part, their skills were best employed on a one-to-one basis. Spells were generally cast against individuals, or for smaller and more mundane purposes like lighting fires. It had been over seventy years since there was a known war-mage, a mage so powerful that they could use kerfios to create destruction on the battlefield.

  Aenid watched the battle with a mixture of horror and pride. She had never been witness to open warfare and was horrified by the brutal nature of armed conflict. She had some pride in the fighting prowess of her countrymen, but mostly it was a bloody rout. The mounted warriors crushed the troops on foot, rolling through the ranks and leaving broken and bloodied bodies behind. She was relieved when she heard that the king finally put an end to the slaughter and had started taking prisoners.

  She broke free of the guards before the battle was ended and started treating the wounded. She was not the only Healer, thank the god and goddess. Duke Arto had brought two battle-seasoned Healers from Bridgend and there were several Healers with the king’s contingent, but they were at the other end of the valley.

  The duke’s Healers had set up an area where wounded could be brought and they could triage the cases. Under their direction she began on the men with the worst wounds. It was difficult and exhausting work, but Aenid felt she was finally contributing in a meaningful way to the campaign. She worked through the day using her skills on a never-ending line of prostrate men with horrible injuries. She treated both her countrymen and those from Torquin still alive when the battle was done.

  The battle was over by the end of the day. It wasn’t long after that the Healers had done all they could as well. They were able to save all the injured that had been brought to them. This was unusual, as there were often men that were so badly wounded that they died before the Healers could stabilize them and close their injuries. Duke Arto’s Healer told Aenid that the strength of her gift played no small part in this.

  Once the injured were treated, Aenid went looking for the king and Merrin. She found them making plans to interrogate the prisoners and to continue on to Dyfal.

  The two men stood on a small knoll overlooking over the battlefield, directing the aftermath. Messengers and others came and went, asking questions and carrying out directives. The setting sun illuminated the blood-spattered and dirty warriors. Aenid saw that Merrin’s clothes had several slashes in them but he didn’t seem to be injured. He looked weary, however, and she wanted to comfort him, despite the fact that she was still angry with him.

  As she walked up the knoll, Merrin’s eyes alighted on her. She could see them widen, then he frowned and hurried over to her.

  “What are you doing here? Are you injured?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her over intently. “Where are your guards?”

  “No, I’m fine. Are you hurt? Your clothes are damaged.” Aenid struggled with him a little as she tried to get a better look at him for potential wounds.

  “I’m fine. Aenid, you’re covered in blood and dirt. Are you sure you’re all right?” He cradled her face in his hands.

  She gave a little bark of laughter. “So are you. And you are the one who was fighting. I must have gotten dirty helping with the wounded.”

  He frowned at her but was apparently satisfied she wasn’t injured. “Where are your guards?” he asked slowly, with an edge of anger to his voice.

  “I sent them to help elsewhere as I was finishing up with the wounded. The battle was over, there wasn’t any need for them to be standing over me.” Aenid had been sick of them hovering over her, like she was about to be ambushed at any second.

  “It’s not up to you to decide whether they stay or go,” he said shortly. “Don’t try to order them away again. By the time I’m through talking to your guards, they’ll know not to leave.”

  Aenid saw the anger in Merrin’s face and decided not to pursue that particular argument with him right now. She was not going to have two guards hovering around her all the time, though.

  Aenid curtsied to the king as they came to the top of the knoll. “What do we do now, your Highness?”

  “Now we heal the living, bury the dead, interrogate the prisoners, and leave for Dyfal,” the king responded.

  “I can tell you that all the injured that were brought to us in the southeast were healed, Sire,” Aenid informed him.

  “Excellent. The other contingent of Healers did well, too. Thank you for your assistance, Baroness.” The king bowed to her in acknowledgment.

  Aenid blushed. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she murmured.

  A messenger came to let the king know that the prisoners were contained and that there was a tent set up for interrogation. Merrin thanked him and dismissed the man.

  “I’ll head over, Sire, and see what I can find out. Hopefully we have some of the ranking officers and can see how far in Bruson is. I’ll have the baroness escorted to where our tents are.” Merrin looked over at Aenid and frowned at her.

  Aenid resisted the urge to smack Merrin.
Instead she turned to the king. “Sire, I have the ability to truthsay.”

  Both men looked sharply at her. There was stunned silence for a moment.

  “The king has his own truthsayer,” Merrin informed her, a little too quickly.

  “Unfortunately, Ormand was killed last week. I suspect either his gambling or his womanizing was somehow involved.” The king was clearly unimpressed.

  Ormand had been warned more than once by Graydon to clean up his act, but clearly hadn’t changed. Merrin wasn’t terribly surprised that he had come to an unsavory end. Neither Merrin nor Graydon had particularly liked the man, but he had been loyal and truthsayers were hard to find.

  “I don’t want her sitting in on the interrogations, Sire,” Merrin stated emphatically.

  Aenid started to protest but the king cut her off.

  “I agree,” he said. “She should not be there for all, but if we find someone with apparently useful information, we should have Lady Aenid confirm the truth of it for us.” He held up a hand when Merrin would have protested. “Merrin, I know you would protect her from any manner of harm or discomfort, but she is stronger than you think, and I must act for the good of all. If there is information she can help verify or not, we need to know.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Merrin ground out. He cleared his throat and said, “I will go start on the prisoners, and I’ll have the baroness escorted to our tents, for now.”

  “Thank you, Merrin. Thank you, Baroness,” the king said gravely, and turned toward the next messenger.