The Baroness of Clawynd

by Morgan Henry

  “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll have to climb back up in the morning,” he said to his three companions.

  “It’ll be a nice morning stroll, I’m sure,” quipped Robal.

  Yers grunted at him and rolled himself into some blankets. A good foot soldier knew to grab rest when he could, and Yers was asleep in minutes.

  Merrin took his blankets over to Aenid and tucked her body against his. He had her facing the fire and his body behind hers, blankets over both of them. Aenid was shivering. He suspected it was both from the cold and from the stress of the day. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, “You’re safe. I have you now and I won’t let you go.” Slowly, so slowly, the shivering eased and they fell asleep.

  Chapter 21

  The next morning dawned gray and cold. Aenid awoke still tucked against Merrin. Though her face was chilly, the rest of her body was warm under the blankets with Merrin. She watched Robal stir up the fire and add the last of the meager wood supply to it. The other man, Yers she thought his name was, came back from fetching water at the stream.

  The two men silently made coffee and broke out the food supplies from the packs. More biscuits and jerky, but she thought she saw some cheese as well. Finally, Robal saw that she was awake.

  “She’s up, Merrin. You can move now,” he said with a grin.

  “I know,” Merrin responded. “I was just enjoying staying warm and cozy while I watched you two make the breakfast.”

  Aenid sat up slowly, her body aching from the exertions of yesterday and the night on the hard, cold ground. She gratefully accepted a cup from Yers and helped herself to cheese and a biscuit.

  They ate in silence, the gray of the day infusing their mood with gloom. After they had eaten, Merrin rose and shouldered one of the packs onto his back. “We should go. There’s nothing for us here.”

  “Aye,” rumbled Robal. Yers merely stood and grabbed a pack as well.

  Aenid moved to take one of the other packs, but Robal stopped her.

  “We put the useful items into two packs for us, just in case we have trouble over the pass. There’s no point in carrying them all, Baroness,” he said.

  She heard a ripping noise behind her and whirled to find Merrin cutting a hole in a blanket. He smiled as he pulled it over her head, draping her in the heavy wool. “To keep you warm,” he said. “You have no cloak.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

  They started out. It was a long climb back up the mountain, far longer to go up than come down. Aenid’s legs were aching with fatigue by the time they were halfway. They halted for a rest, huddling together against the rocks. The wind had risen again and it pulled the heat from their bodies. Aenid wondered if it would rain.

  All too soon, Merrin had them up again and moving. Aenid realized they had crested the seemingly endless hill when she felt the burn in her legs ease as the ground leveled out. It was such a relief to be on flat ground!

  Merrin gave a shout that startled Aenid. She looked up, heart pounding, to see men in the king’s colors ahead of them.

  Sir Deris rushed ahead of the rest to greet them. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?” he asked, his face a mask of concern.

  “No, we’re well, just tired,” Merrin assured him. “The duke is dead and the baroness is safe.”

  “Thank the god,” breathed Deris. He turned to Aenid and bowed. “My Lady, we’re relieved to see you in one piece,” he greeted her with a smile.

  “Thank you, Sir Deris,” Aenid responded. “I’m grateful the king sent out two parties for me.” She had to look away at that. She almost shed tears at the thought of more men having to risk their lives for her foolishness.

  “His Majesty wants all of you back,” Deris told them. “Let’s return before it pours on us.”

  The rain held off until they were almost to the passage in the rock. Then the skies opened up and poured on them all, soaking them through in a few minutes. They were grateful though. Had it started sooner the trek down the tiny path would have been more than treacherous. The secret passage was dry, however, and they had more torches to light the way this time. Aenid had never thought to be glad to see the keep of Dyfal, but she was relieved when they entered the little storeroom again.

  Aenid and Merrin went directly to the king. Part of Aenid was unhappy that she was presenting herself to her sovereign as a wet, bedraggled mess but she was desperate to get the collar off. That morning, Merrin had given her the ring to hold with the instruction that she was to go to the king and get the collar removed. As she had every intention of obeying this order, the collar hadn’t given her any trouble.

  She noted that Merrin had been very careful in how he spoke to her. It would have been easy for him to exert his will over her with the collar in place. She could somehow sense that he would have far more mastery over her with the collar and ring than Bruson ever had. It was curious, this difference. She wasn’t sure what the source of it was, but it terrified her.

  She had made herself meek and quiet for the entire day in fear of reprisals from the collar. She hated herself for this. It was ironic that Bruson hadn’t cowed her to this extent when he so clearly had wanted to. No, it was having her lover in possession of the ring that had her virtually panic-stricken.

  She knew Merrin didn’t want the collar to hurt her—that was the problem. She didn’t want to unintentionally disobey him and have the collar punish her. That would horrify him and plague him with guilt. So she was meek and mild, and clung to his every whim. And hated every minute of it.

  * * * *

  Merrin was relieved when they entered the main hall of Keep Dyfal. King Graydon was seated at a table near the fire in the fireplace, papers scattered in front of him. He jumped to his feet and came around from behind it when he saw Merrin and Aenid enter.

  “Thank the god and goddess you’re safe!” he exclaimed.

  Merrin and Aenid made their obeisance to the king.

  “Please, Your Majesty, we need to remove the collar from Lady Aenid,” pleaded Merrin. “I can’t find a clasp or weakness in it.”

  “Goddess! It’s still on her?” Graydon gasped. “Here, I’ll show you the trick to removing it.”

  Aenid stood, trembling a little and her head bowed, as Merrin lifted her wet braid aside and gave the two men access to the collar.

  “Use a tiny bit of kerfios and your senses to feel the collar,” the king instructed Merrin in a low voice. “You’ll feel a slight difference where the clasp is.” At Merrin’s nod he continued. “Now let the tiniest trickle of kerfios through it and…” The collar opened and slid off Aenid’s neck.

  She gave a gasping cry as Merrin snatched it away and strode over to the fire and made a move to toss the silver metal into the blaze.

  “Stop!” the king cried in the most commanding tone Aenid had ever heard from him.

  Merrin turned, his expression both angry and questioning. The hand that held the ring and collar trembled a little.

  “They explode if you try to melt them,” the king said gravely. “My father found that out the hard way. He accidentally killed two servants and blew out the corner of a house in Bridgend when he was young.”

  “How does one destroy them, then?” asked Aenid.

  “The last two that came into my possession, I took out on a ship and sailed out to sea a day and a half. Then I dumped them overboard and let them sink to the bottom. It seemed the safest way to make sure no one could get their hands on them again. If you will allow me, I will do the same with that set.”

  Merrin clenched his fist around the silver. Merrin wanted to be the one to get rid of the hated things and know that they could never be used on Aenid again. Yet, he trusted his King implicitly and knew the man would do as he said. He reluctantly relinquished them to his lord and friend.

  The king slipped them into a leather pouch at his belt. “I will not let them out of my sight until they are thrown into the deep waters, I pr
omise,” he said to them both. “I’ve had rooms for you set aside in the keep’s guest area. Go. Rest. I’ll have food sent to you for dinner. I don’t want to see either of you until tomorrow.”

  “Please Sire, I should see to my men…” Aenid trailed off at the stern look on Graydon’s face.

  “I have sent word to your men that you are safe. Your men are well looked after and have barracks assigned to them for the duration of our stay here. You will see them tomorrow. Do you understand me, Baroness?” King Graydon kept his tone gentle, but it was clear that he was not pleased with her attempt at defiance.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied with a curtsey. “I am sorry.”

  “Go and rest,” he said, dismissing the two of them.

  Chapter 22

  Merrin took Aenid’s hand and followed the servant through the keep. They were led through the maze of halls to a set of rooms obviously meant for a couple.

  There was a generous sitting room with the fire lit. Comfortable chairs were situated in front of the warm blaze and there was even a small dining table in the corner. The room was decorated in warm colors and rugs were scattered over the stone floor. There was also a dressing chamber for each of them, private bathing chamber, bedroom, and even private servant’s quarters for Micha and Setha.

  Micha and Setha were waiting for them. Aenid saw Merrin’s mouth twitch to hold back a smile at Setha’s abject horror at Aenid’s appearance. Aenid had to admit she looked more than dreadful. She was still sopping wet, her hair half undone from its braid with scraggly tendrils hanging down her face and neck. She still had the torn wool blanket over her dress, now muddy and smelling vaguely of…wet dog, she thought. Still, she was alive and in Kerban.

  Aenid allowed Setha to lead her directly to the bathing chamber, where she was stripped and plunked into the bath with dispatch. Aenid thought Setha might burn the clothing, but Setha directed her young assistant to have the gown cleaned. Aenid couldn’t hide a smile when she overheard her maid mutter that the blanket could go to keep the pigs warm. Setha continued to comment under her breath as she looked after Aenid.

  Getting clean had never felt so good. Aenid allowed herself to luxuriate in the feeling of being cared for—hair washed, combed, and rebraided, body clean and dry. Setha dressed her in a nightgown, warm robe and lined slippers, and placed her in front of the fire with a cup of tea, where she drowsed for a while.

  She assumed Merrin was getting much the same treatment from Micha, but without the commentary. She felt a little guilty that he had to wait for her to be done in the bathing chamber, but he didn’t smell quite as bad.

  Merrin finally joined her by the fire, gently stroking her face to wake her from the half doze she was enjoying.

  “There is dinner here,” he said softly.

  Aenid was suddenly ravenous. The food smelled wonderful. She looked over to find the table set for two, candles lit and wine poured.

  “I’m hungry,” she admitted to Merrin.

  “I should hope so. That was a hell of a journey over the past two days. I’m starving.” He led her over to the table and seated her.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I sent Setha and Micha off to have dinner on their own while we had a quiet meal together,” Merrin continued as he sat down across from her at the small table.

  “No, I don’t mind,” Aenid answered as Merrin began to serve them both.

  There was plenty of food for the two of them. The kitchen had sent a hot, filling meal to warm their bellies, and they attacked it with great appreciation. For a while they were both too hungry to talk, but gradually conversation resumed.

  “I don’t remember this part of the keep,” Aenid ventured. “I certainly didn’t see it when I was an involuntary guest.”

  “I believe this is the guest wing. The rooms that Bruson used are likely being searched thoroughly for information. Micha tells me the king has rooms down the next hall. I can’t blame him. I’m sure Bruson’s rooms are more palatial, but I wouldn’t want to bed down where a snake like Bruson had lain.”

  Aenid gave a short laugh. “I agree. Somehow, I would want to burn his mattress, even though I know it’s completely irrational. Treachery isn’t like catching bedbugs.” She sighed.

  “Why the sigh, my dear Lady?” Merrin asked as he poured her more wine.

  “Will someone bring Turok’s body back, so we can give him to the goddess?” Aenid asked, thinking of treachery and Turok, and then suddenly realizing they had left all the bodies on the mountain.

  “No,” Merrin replied.

  “Why not?” she asked, her voice rising a little. “He had made mistakes, yes, but he atoned for them surely.”

  Now it was Merrin’s turn to sigh. “He tried, but he knew he would be given the death sentence when he returned.”

  “Why? What had he done that was so bad he couldn’t be pardoned? He saved me, at no little risk to himself. Twice.”

  Merrin took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Aenid, I’m so sorry. I never found the right time to tell you. Turok set a spell that killed your father.”

  At her look of utter confusion, Merrin told her about his findings in the gulley, and the knowledge that Turok was in the pocket of Bruson made him the murderer, despite the fact that they didn’t get a confession from him directly.

  Aenid was silent for a bit. She had wanted to believe that Turok could have been redeemed. Merrin was right, though, Turok would have hanged for the murder of Baron Jero alone, much less his other actions.

  “He orchestrated that fight in the valley, more or less, didn’t he?” she asked.

  “It was his idea to go in alone at first. So, yes, I do think he planned to kill Bruson and die somehow in the ensuing fight. I also think he did truly want to save you, perhaps to atone for killing your father.” Merrin could understand Turok’s actions, and yet there was a part of Merrin that decried Turok for being a coward, unable to face the consequences for his mistakes.

  “Will the king make public Turok’s part in all this?”

  “I doubt it. There’s not much point in vilifying a dead man who did try to make some things right. I doubt that His Majesty wants his family to be shamed, either. No, I suspect he’ll chalk Turok’s death up to battle and let it lie.” Merrin suddenly realized that Aenid might not feel the same way. “How do you feel about that?” he asked cautiously.

  “I can live with it,” she answered slowly, toying with the stem of her wine goblet. “I am a little angry. Part of me wants the world to know that my father was murdered, but really, what’s the point? He is gone, it won’t change that. And I know that Turok has parents and a sister that would suffer greatly if it came out that he was a murderer and a traitor. They are not guilty, so let them be.”

  Merrin gazed at Aenid, his eyes warm. “You amaze me, sometimes. Turok robbed you of your family, yet you still remember that he leaves people behind and think of their needs. You’re a good person, Aenid.”

  Aenid was silent at that. His praise warmed her inside. She was already feeling comfortable and relaxed having dinner with Merrin. She felt as if she could be happy like this forever. She could see a lifetime of dinners with the two of them, talking about their day and planning for the future. And yet, she thought she had decided. There was to be no relationship with Lord Merrin, no matter how attracted she was to him. He didn’t respect her ability to look after her holding as a Baroness should. He was overprotective and obstinate and too used to getting his own way.

  But she had been thinking as she sat by the fire, as well as drowsing. She had to admit that he was right about some things. When she put herself in danger, she endangered her men further, since they were sworn to protect her and Kerban. She didn’t have any training to defend herself in battle, and wasn’t likely to get any. Whenever Merrin had argued with her, the question of safety was always at the root of it. He never questioned her decisions on running Clawynd. He accepted her idea about how to get into Dyfal’s Keep and took it to the king, g
iving her all the credit. He just didn’t want to allow her into the keep until it was safe. He originally didn’t want her on the trip that led them to Dyfal, but once she made the case to go, he treated her as a fellow leader of the mission.

  And yet, he didn’t want to allow her to use her healing skills on the wounded. No, that wasn’t quite true, he didn’t want her to use them until it was safe. But if she hadn’t rushed to his aid when the arrow had pierced his chest, he may have died. And she was captured, and Merrin might have died trying to rescue her. Turok died, though perhaps he wanted to. She sighed. There didn’t seem to be a good answer to that set of circumstances.

  * * * *

  Merrin watched Aenid closely. He wondered what she was thinking now. She had a little furrow at her brow, indicating she was contemplating something serious. She looked lovely in the candlelight at the table, much better than a few hours ago. It pleased him to see her cared for—clean, her hair pulled back in its long, thick braid, and wearing a deep burgundy robe under which there was only a lacy slip of a nightgown. That thought made his cock stir with longing.

  He was pleased that someone had put them in a room together. He knew that’s where he wanted Aenid, in his room and his bed. He knew she wanted it as well, but was resisting her own desires. She seemed under the impression he wanted to curtail her somehow. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He had enough on his plate with his duties as Champion, he was happy to have her look after Clawynd. All he wanted was her to be safe. He would have to convince her that he was not about to let her go.

  “You look beautiful. I’m happy that I’m here with you,” he said, looking at her with longing.

  “I’m sure I’m a great improvement from earlier today,” she responded wryly. “But I’m not sure about beautiful.”