by Aldus Baker
Darla considers her words carefully, “It has been almost five years. And, you and Lord Brace do enjoy each other’s company.”
Shara crosses her arms and looks down with a sigh. “I know it’s been years,” she says. “At first I could think of nothing but the loss of your father. It was the first thing I thought of each mourning and the last each night. It came unbidden to my mind and heart every moment. Now, the pain is less and I find entire days go by before I think about my dear Hallis. It made me feel guilty at first. As if I could forget him. As if he never were.” Shara looks up at Darla’s face. “I think your father would never want me to spend my life morning him. I still love him, but I don’t grieve for him.”
“We all loved father. There will never be anyone else like him. But, we,” Darla waits to make certain that she is looking into her mother’s eyes before continuing. “I love you too. All of us love you. We grieved at the loss of father and we grieved for the pain we saw you suffering. It has been so wonderful this last year to have you fully back among us.”
Lady Shara reaches out and takes Darla’s hand to hold enfolded in both of hers. “I never meant to pull away. I wanted to be strong for you, all of you. I missed him so. And, when I looked at each of my children I would see his looks, his mannerisms, his smile and my heart ached to breaking. How could I explain if I cried at the sight of my own children? Even Jalan, my foster child with no blood tie to Hallis, shows the same inner strength and the ability to accept burdens that would crush others. Perhaps that ability is something the king hoped Jalan would gain from being fostered with us. We, father and I, felt Jalan was always another one of our own children. Once he arrived he was family. He is family.”
Darla thinks of Jalan as her brother. Perhaps the way her parents treated all the children as equals made that possible. And although Jalan is a brother to her, Darla senses something different in him than in her other siblings. It is like a deep reservoir of strength or power. She does not have the right word for it. He is only 12 and yet he faces challenges every day that Darla is certain she could not overcome. She thinks back to the windmill when Jalan and Tomac came to her. Darla expected Jalan to need considerable help from Master Chander, Carpenter Doon and others before he could make any progress. Given Jalan’s training he was going to have to learn some command skills sooner or later. Finishing the windmill seemed like a good way for him to gain experience. She had never expected to see him supervising a team of grown men the very next day while Tomac ran errands for them. Doon was there working, but after Darla watched for a bit she could not deny that Jalan had the final say in how the work was done. Jalan is young and cannot always express himself in words. But, in action, he surpasses almost everyone.
It creates a mixture of pride and astonishment in Darla every time she thinks about it. Perhaps this is what father felt when he discovered I could be his new bookkeeper? That and relief. It was obvious her father never cared for the task and had mother help him as often as possible. Father relied on mother and so do I. Even now Darla does not begin large projects without making it clear to everyone involved that Lady Shara is in agreement with her. Her mother’s backing buttresses Darla’s authority.
Jalan appears to act with the assumption of authority. Does that simply come naturally to a prince? Darla doubts it. But, she plans to try that tactic more often herself and see what happens.
“I know that look,” says her mother. “What are you thinking, sweetheart?”
“That there is much more to Jalan than we know.” For a brief instant, Darla thinks her mother looks startled. “I didn’t mean in an ominous way. It is merely that he surprises me with his ability to conquer difficult tasks.” Again something Darla says causes a flash of concern in Lady Shara’s eyes. “Are you not proud of him? I know I am.”
“I am proud of all my children. And, I understand what you mean. By all reports Jalan is extraordinary. He masters new skills quickly and when he is pushed in his training he always rises to the challenge. Captain Erida reported that Jalan would be the best fighter in all of House Yen if he were a man full grown and not a wisp of a boy. That is such a cruel comfort.”
“Must they drive him so hard?” Darla thinks she knows the answer, but her worry comes out almost of its own volition.
“I thought they should not. Then Krenis Enmar returned. I was angry with him. If he was sent to protect Jalan, why had he disappeared for 10 years? When he told us that Hallis sent him out to stop the king’s enemies and that he had spent those years misleading and killing men searching for Jalan, I knew I was wrong about Jalan’s training. Jalan was not safely secreted away with us. He merely had not been found by those who wish him dead. We were not keeping him safe. Krenis Enmar was.”
“Then I had better go and see to any further needs for the completion of Master Enmar’s training hall. As much as his cryptic answers to questions may infuriate me, I will endure them and do whatever I can for Jalan’s sake.”
“Leave the proposal with me and I’ll study it. We can talk more later,” says Lady Shara. She releases Darla’s hand and the two hug briefly before Darla walks the path back to the garden door.
Δ
Darla studies the accounts. Something about the road tariffs seems to have changed. She compares the totals collected over the last several years and sees a definite decrease. Amounts collected dropped slowly starting with Southway Outpost and then Midland and Pass as well. All three of the lancer patrol posts sit at the main intersections of the River Road. River Road runs north and south a mile or two west of the Greenhills River depending on the river’s course. The road would be damaged by flooding each spring if it sat any closer. Midland Outpost is located where the Greenhills Crossing bisects River Road. Greenhills Crossing is named for the bridge that spans the river and allows travel between the eastern portion of the House Yen lands and the Principality of Polnue. Travelers taking goods east toward Yen Manor and the surrounding villages pay a tariff at Midland Outpost. If the goods are going south, the tariff is paid when the travelers leave River Road at Southway Outpost. When goods go north a tariff is collected at Pass Outpost.
As goods flow through Yen land, tariffs are collected. Those duties help maintain the roads and outposts. Without sufficient collections, funds from house reserves or income from other sources must be used. Darla is also concerned that items needed by everyone living on Yen holdings might become more expensive if the trade has fallen off. She will need to determine what necessities have become scarce and where new suppliers may be found. She goes to her shelves of records to retrieve the quartermaster’s accounts when someone knocks on her study door.
With a suppressed groan, Darla turns toward the door and says, “Enter.”
Steward Hint slowly opens the door wide enough to be clearly visible to Darla. “Lady, I apologize for the interruption. A messenger from your sister, Lady Shrift, has brought a letter. He begs the indulgence of delivering it to you personally. I explained the irregularity of it, but he would not be dissuaded.”
Hint is a bit red around the face. Darla takes that as a sign of how difficult it is to dissuade her sister’s messenger. She could have Hint bring the man to her here, but her study has too many documents lying about. She does not wish to have them accidentally disturbed. And, it is her policy to not meet privately with anyone. It causes rumors to run through the staff like fire in dry grass. She doubts their tongues burned so hot whenever her father met privately with a visitor. Normally, she requests that her mother attend any meeting with her. This unexpected messenger is taking too much of her time already. Darla does not want to wait for Lady Shara as well. The quickest way to resolve the issue is to let Steward Hint lead her to the man and to accept the letter in front of the Steward. At least that way all the speculation will be limited to the contents of the letter.
Δ
When Darla follows Hint into the parlor, a middle aged man in a short Green and Yellow jacket with silver piping stands immediately and says
, “Lady Yen, I do apologize, but I was instructed to give this letter directly to you and could not have completed my duty to my Lady Shrift otherwise.”
Darla recognized the man. “Steward Vimler? Guri sent you?” She had only seen him at her sister’s manor home. He looked so out of place in Yen Manor’s parlor.
The man made a slight bow to acknowledge the personal recognition. “Yes, lady. She wished this letter to pass directly from her to you, but it is impractical for my lady to deliver it. It was entrusted to me to carry it directly to you. The letter has been in no other hand save your sister’s, lady.”
What could possibly be so urgent? Turning to her own steward, Darla says, “Steward Hint, although you just met Steward Vimler I think the introduction was neither as formal nor as pleasant as you both deserve. Please, for my sake, forget any recent disagreement over the manner of this letter’s delivery and welcome my sister’s house master. See to any needs he may have while he awaits my reply to this letter.”
Now turning to the messenger, Darla says, “Steward Vimler, please accept this opportunity to become better acquainted with Steward Hint, a trusted retainer and head of my household. I suspect that as you both serve your respective ladies in a similar capacity, you may have interesting observations of a strictly professional nature to share by way of making pleasant conversation.”
And finally to both men, “I will return with a response once I have learned what my sister wishes to tell me.”
Darla returns to her study and has just broken the seal on the letter when she hears a tapping at the door. Feeling a bit put upon she says, “Yes!”
“Um, ah, it is just your meal, lady. I... I can bring it later if you like,” says a nervous girl’s voice from the other side of the closed study door.
“No, please, Juna, bring it in,” replies Darla trying to take some of the irritation out of her words.
Mistress Dahlia’s helper opens the door and picks up a covered tray from a table in the hallway. She carries the tray inside and then looks about the room for a place to set it.
“A moment, just a moment,” says Darla as she clears away some papers from the little side table usually reserved for her meal trays. Perhaps mother is right. I really could use an assistant. Even Mistress Dahlia has one. I’ll have to give it some thought when there is time.
Juna places the tray on the cleared tabletop and scurries from the room. One more source of Darla’s irritation and delay vanishes into the hall as the girl leaves.
After a sip of watered wine and nibbling some bread and cheese, Darla settles down to read Guri’s letter. She has just flattened out the pages when yet another knock comes at the door. She takes a moment to set down the little pot of jam she was about to hurl at the closed door and breathes once, slowly and deeply, before saying in as calm a voice as she can command, “Yes?”
The door opens and Lady Shara enters with a pleasant smile on her face. “I was wondering if now might be a good time to discuss Lord Brace’s proposal? I saw the cook’s girl returning to the kitchens and I thought you might have time for me while you eat your meal.”
Grateful that she had not actually thrown the jam at the door, Darla is equally grateful that Lady Shara, someone she actually wants to see, has unexpectedly arrived. Standing, Darla walks over and ushers her mother into the room before closing the door. “I always have time for you, mother. I am reading a letter that just arrived from Guri. She had her man, Steward Vimler, deliver it directly to me. The truth is that I would have sent for you if I’d only had the time to wait. May I continue to read and pass the pages to you as I finish them? I am certain we will want to discuss whatever Guri feels is so important.”
Lady Shara readily agrees and Darla goes back to reading the letter. At first her sister goes to some length to assure Darla that everything is well with her and her family and that writing Darla is prompted by a happy circumstance and nothing of grave concern.
Nothing about the letter indicates the need for a personal messenger until Darla reads the word “however”. It is Darla’s least favorite word because “however” indicates that one may now ignore all information given ahead of that word. Good news, gone. Happy tidings, forgotten. And as she reads further, Darla starts to get a headache. The headache intensifies as each word of Guri’s letter makes clear the real message. Darla lays down the page she is reading, unable to continue. She places her face in her hands and waits for her mother to finish reading.
“What is it, dear?” asks Lady Shara.
“You’ll see,” mumbles Darla as she massages her forehead.
“Oh,” says Lady Shara a moment later. And then, “Oh no. It can’t be.”
“It is,” says Darla as the pounding in her head grows even stronger.
Lady Shara starts laughing. Darla fails to find any humor in it. “Oh yes, mock me in my time of misery,” she says as she lifts her aching head to look at her mother. Lady Shara tries to stop, but only laughs harder. Darla puts her face back in her hands.
Still laughing, Lady Shara leans over and starts to rub Darla’s back and then stands behind her to massage her shoulders.
Darla, who is on the verge of either depression, anger or both, notices that her mother’s work on the knotted muscles in Darla’s neck seems to relieve some of the pain in her head.
“Dear,” says Lady Shara, “I don’t mean to laugh at you. It is the absurdity of our situation that leaves my head spinning too. You’re tired. You have been working so hard. Go lie down and rest for a bit.”
“But...”
“Hush. I won’t let you tell me no. You will feel much better after a little rest.”
“I’m already so far behind,” says Darla.
“I’ll help you. And, we’ll start looking for your new assistant. Your exhaustion makes it plain that you need one,” says Lady Shara.
“More than I need a husband,” says Darla. “What am I supposed to do, mother?”
“You have time to think about that later. The formal proposal has not arrived yet. Guri is just trying to help prepare you for it. She knows her little sister well. I imagine this is not far from what she thought might happen.”
“But, the messenger, he is waiting for a response,” says Darla.
“I’ll write one and send him off with it. Right after I walk you to your room.”
Darla let her mother guide her down the hall and see her to bed. It is like being a little girl again. If only she could recapture that feeling of knowing all is well because her parents love her. She drifts off to sleep. When she wakes, her head feels much better even though her thoughts are still in turmoil.
Lord Merk Shrift, Guri’s husband’s cousin, is going to propose marriage to her. They have been introduced of course. It was at one of Guri’s parties last year or perhaps the year before. The year before it seems to Darla because she recalls speaking to him on at least three occasions. Darla is always careful to suppress any whims of fancy. She does not indulged in speculation about whom she might marry. The children of landed houses rarely marry for love. It is all about alliances and the mutual benefit of both families. She has no desire to enter an arranged marriage with a broken heart or unrealistic expectations. Although, as the third daughter of a middling house, she never thought she might marry a lord. Even four years after her father’s death she has difficulty accepting that she is the head of House Yen. That is why a lord would marry her. Not because she is Darla, but because she is Lady Darla Yen.
Chapter X
The Training Hall is a large open rectangular structure. A series of wooden trusses with interlocking posts supports the roof. Jalan finds the symmetry of each truss marching in line down the length of the building fascinating. The walls are only framed. There is no siding or interior paneling in place. It is possible to look at the entire skeleton of the building. The floor planks are all laid. Master Enmar says Lady Darla must have spent a good deal of silver to get all the glass paper he and Jalan use to smooth the floor. The interior i
s huge. Six men could easily stand in a row with their arms outstretched between them and not touch each other or the walls. And, that is only the width of the building. The length would be ten men at least. From the floor to the bottom of a roof truss is nearly the height of two men. Jalan could not understand why the room needs to be so tall, but when he mentions it to Master Enmar his teacher simply gives him a knowing smile and leaps up to touch a roof truss. Jalan thought he imagined it. Surely no one can jump that high. Master Enmar simply turns to him and says, “That’s why.”
When Jalan is not training, he watches the workmen build the Hall. It is a much larger effort than repairing the windmill. The list of materials and plans are far more complex. Men start by leveling the site. Then wagon after wagon of large stone blocks arrive from the quarry. They are laid as the foundation for the building’s walls and floor. Framing is done in sections and once one end of the structure’s wall frames are standing the work begins on raising cross beams, and each triangular roof truss is constructed using a cross beam for its base. The skill needed to cut post joints and assemble, wedge and pin the trusses together is amazing to see. In less than a month the building is proclaimed structurally sound and the toil of smoothing the floor begins.
The first day of rubbing the glass paper carefully back and forth is not bad. Jalan has some soreness over the next few days, but his shoulders and arms become use to the work. Then only Jalan’s knees ache. Although today even his knees seem to have toughened enough to take another day of crawling across the plank floor.
Smoothing is tedious. Jalan can see that some of the floor planks were planed better than others. They require less work on his part. He would like to thank the craftsman that took more care with the lumber, but he has no idea who it was. The glass paper is very coarse. It is a parchment like sheet with ground sand glass glued to one side to act as an abrasive. Jalan has to be careful not to spend too much time in a small area because he can rub away too much material and add to any unevenness in the surface of the floor plank.