by Jeff Wheeler
They had walked into the middle of an animated conversation. “And so who are you going to station in Callait, my lord?” Sir Thomas asked, his voice throbbing with anger.
“Captain Vauclair, of course—an excellent man and an ideal choice to lead the garrison at Callait,” replied a man whose authoritative air marked him as the duke. The man was tall and powerfully built. His wife was an Argentine, Ankarette knew, a wealthy heiress who had helped bring him the bulk of his fortune prior to the civil war, and he had been handsomely rewarded for his services to King Eredur. Everyone said he was the one who’d put his nephew on the throne. He had thick golden hair with streaks of gray at his temples and a handsome face. Warrewik spoke with his whole body, not just his words, and had a commanding voice that was deep and penetrating. He was older than her father had been at the time of his death.
Sir Thomas and the duke were standing on opposite sides of a large wooden table covered in various maps and scrolls. The hearth was spacious, but no one had tended to it for a while and it was thick with smoking, sizzling red coals. The chamber was cozy, but it featured all the trappings of a man of exalted rank, from high-quality furniture to tasteful—though extravagant—statues and urns and tapestries.
“Vauclair,” Sir Thomas said with contempt, his eyes flashing like steel. He had not shifted his attention from the duke. “You’re trusting an Occitanian to be loyal?”
“The man’s not to blame for his place of birth. He served the king’s interests in the duchy of Vexin, though it earned him the hatred of his own people. He needs a new assignment.”
“He lost Vexin,” Sir Thomas said pointedly.
Warrewik batted away the comment with a calm wave of his hand. “That’s not his fault, Thomas. I don’t punish a man for failure unless he is disobedient. He was given the impossible task of holding King Lewis’s army with only two thousand men. Hardly sufficient against the might of Occitania. And now that we have the opportunity for a more lasting peace with Lewis, I need someone I can trust in Callait while I begin the negotiations for a . . . a suitable marriage partner for the king.” He glanced across the room, and Ankarette noticed a young woman sitting meekly on the window seat. She’d been so quiet and unobtrusive Ankarette had missed seeing her before. The resemblance between the girl and the duke marked her as his daughter, as Isybelle.
A look passed between father and daughter, and Isybelle bowed her head, her cheeks flaming. Interesting . . .
“If I had been commanded to hold Vexin,” Sir Thomas said confidently, “I would have held it despite the odds.”
Warrewik chuckled. “I like your brashness, Thomas. You’re ambitious, and I know you wanted the post of Callait yourself. Be patient. I need you here in Dundrennan while I am gone to Pree. It could take many months to negotiate this.”
“Dundrennan?” Sir Thomas asked in disbelief. “But Lord Horwath is already here.”
“Aye, and he’s a wise and competent man. You could learn a lot from him. I want you to look after my daughters while I’m gone.”
Ankarette could see the news infuriated the knight. His fingers clenched into fists on the tabletop and he looked as if he’d fly into a rage. Warrewik stared him down with calm composure and a patient smile, as if the young man were merely an overanxious hunting dog.
“As you wish, my lord,” Sir Thomas finally muttered, pushing away from the table. He stormed out of the solar, passing Ankarette and Elysabeth without looking at either of them. Elysabeth’s smile looked haughty.
When the door closed, Warrewik chuckled. “I’m sorry to leave you with a problem, Stiev. But it would be best if he doesn’t come with me to Occitania. He’s too hot-blooded.”
“He’s young,” the earl said with a shrug.
“And he’s a second son,” Warrewik said thoughtfully, walking around the table and wagging his finger. He used his arms expansively as he spoke. “Thwarting a man’s ambition once in a while helps stoke the forge. My father did that to me routinely. Thomas will serve me twice as hard now to prove himself. You’ll see.”
Horwath nodded solemnly and said nothing.
The duke shifted his gaze to the young ladies at the door. Studying Ankarette with interest, he said, “Thank you, Lady Elysabeth. You may go.”
“If you please, my lord,” she responded with a polite curtsy and left.
Ankarette felt uncomfortable under the man’s scrutiny. Her hair was damp and braided, and she was exhausted from the long ride and the night she’d spent ushering in a new life. She had heard and witnessed so much in this place . . . and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of world she had entered. Although tempted to fidget, she kept her hands still.
“You have great composure,” the duke complimented after the silence started to become unbearable. “A natural poise. I study people, you know.” He turned toward a Wizr set arranged at the end of the table and touched one of the pieces. The tower piece. “Do you play Wizr, Ankarette Tryneowy?”
Her throat constricted, so she bobbed her head up and down.
“Your father taught you, I suppose?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“He was very good at the game,” Warrewik said, watching her eyes, watching her reaction. Ankarette felt a little gushing feeling, a little trickling sensation. She knew what the duke would say just before he said it.
“Your father was part of the Espion.”
The words startled her. How had she known what he would say beforehand? She hadn’t even heard that word before tonight, and she still didn’t understand what it meant.
She bit her lip, feeling unsure of herself but struggling not to show it. “He . . . he never told me.”
Warrewik smiled reassuringly. “No, you’re still very young Ankarette. Do you know what the Espion is?”
She shook her head no. She wanted desperately to know.
“Every ruler keeps a network of spies. The Espion are the men and women who are paid to inform us what is going on in different kingdoms. And here within our own realm. Your father was one of our agents in Atabyrion. He studied the law and became an excellent lawyer.” He spread his hands expansively. “He was murdered because he was doing his duty to the true king. I have had my eye on your family for quite some time, but it was my will that you be trained as a midwife. If it weren’t for that, I would have summoned you to Dundrennan years ago. I have plans for you Ankarette.”
Ankarette blinked in astonishment and the duke chuckled.
“Oh yes! I see I’ve surprised you.” He reached for the tower piece again and moved it across the board to another square. “One of the reasons I love Wizr is that you have to plan your moves well in advance. To think three or four moves ahead of your enemy. To put your pieces in position so that they will serve you best later.” He turned and made a subtle gesture, and Isybelle obediently rose from the window seat to join him at the table.
She was a pretty girl, though her demeanor and looks were both very demure. The girl’s hair was more red than gold, and a smattering of freckles crested her nose. Her pale complexion had faded from its earlier blush. She gave Ankarette a shy, encouraging smile.
“This is my eldest daughter,” the duke said, putting his hands on her shoulders. He towered over her. “She will inherit this vast fortress and its many estates. My other daughter, Nanette, will also inherit expansive properties. The Fountain only blessed my wife and I with two children, Ankarette. Only two, and both pregnancies were very difficult. I look ahead, as I told you. Both of my daughters are fit to marry kings, and they will not lack for suitors.” He said this with power and conviction, his eyes blazing with certainty.
“Your duty, child, is to be Isybelle’s friend and companion, and in so doing, to protect her reputation. You will sleep in the same room, even in the same bed! No one will be able to accuse her of being anything but chaste. As you can imagine, there will be some who would seek to win her fortunes against my wishes or my will. She is a dutiful daughter. But some men are unscrupulous.”
His voice hinted at a lingering fury from something that had happened in the past. “They would use flowery words and gallant promises to steal her heart from me. You must be observant and vigilant, Ankarette. You must interfere with any attempts a paramour might make to seduce her. Notify Thomas at once if you have even the slightest suspicion that someone is trifling with my daughter. Before I leave for Occitania, I will instruct Thomas to train you in the ways of the Espion. There are certain signals and gestures, a secret language, if you will. You need to know this to be effective in your role.”
He patted Isybelle’s shoulders, either unmoved by or unaware of the fiery blush on the girl’s cheeks, and then closed some of the distance between himself and Ankarette. Even though he smiled at her benevolently, she felt physically intimidated by his height. “Now, let me be clear. You will hear many things said in Dundrennan. You will become privy to secrets that should not and ought not be shared outside this household. I am choosing to trust you, Ankarette, and I demand loyalty and obedience from you in return. If you serve me faithfully, you will be greatly rewarded.
“Your father died in my service. I have not forgotten that. Your mother will be cared for while you serve me here. And then, when your duties are fulfilled, you will live in comfort and peace on one of my estates.”
He stepped closer. “Let me be frank, child. I am asking that you sacrifice part of your life in your service to the hollow crown. You will need to live beyond reproach yourself, or many ill-intentioned men will seek your favor. You will care for the children of my heirs. To be a midwife and companion in a noble household is a position of incomparable trust and confidence. My trust and confidence in you must be absolute. What say you, Ankarette Tryneowy? Do you recognize the honor you have been chosen for?”
She had listened to his words and felt a niggling of doubt in her mind. Was he asking her to serve his interests or the king’s? Was it his intention to marry Isybelle to Eredur?
Something was going on that she didn’t understand. She felt completely out of her depth, struggling to break to the surface of a dark pool.
“It is a great honor, my lord,” Ankarette said, trying not to stammer. “Am I to understand that I shall serve you as well as the king? King Eredur?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the duke said, giving her a patient smile. There was something in his eyes, though . . . A smug look. “Eredur wears the hollow crown. He is the rightful king. Of course you will serve him. And you will, no doubt, get the opportunity to meet him someday. When you are ready. When you have been trained in all the formalities of court.” He scratched his smooth cheek with a well-trimmed nail. Everything about him was decorous and polished. “Your accent, for example. You speak the brogue of the North, but they will look down on you for that in Kingfountain. My daughter has been working on changing her accent. You must as well, if you choose to accept this great honor. How proud your father would be if he knew you were given this chance! Will you serve?”
“I will,” Ankarette said, bending her knee in a curtsy.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Duke’s Daughter
Ankarette didn’t remember falling asleep, but she awoke on a small couch. A chambermaid was stealthily sweeping ashes and cinders into a metal pail, and it was the soft scraping sounds that had roused her. She blinked, utterly confused, and then memories of the previous day came crashing down on her and she sat up in startled surprise.
The blanket that had covered her fell to her lap. It was made of soft fur, a winter animal’s pelt of some kind. The curtains were drawn across the closest window, but judging by the faint rays gleaming through the crack, it was just past dawn.
“Pardon, miss, if I woke you,” said the chambermaid in her sweet Northern accent. She was a drudge with smudges of soot on her nose and cheek, probably eight years old.
“It’s all right,” Ankarette replied, giving her a comforting smile. She looked around and spied a spacious bed. A veil of gauzy fabric was draped over the top of the bed from an iron ring in the ceiling, the fabric attached to each of the four large posts, and pillows were scattered hither and yon.
When Ankarette sat up, she saw Isybelle and another, younger, girl slumbering on the vast mattress. The younger girl had a mass of dark hair that completely hid her face.
The chambermaid finished sweeping out the hearth in front of Ankarette’s couch and added some more logs from the stack. On her hands and knees, she blew on the coals, causing them to sizzle and the logs to catch. Soon, a fire began to crackle as it was revived from the snowy ashes. Ankarette slipped off the couch and approached the bed. The other girl could only be Isybelle’s sister, though Ankarette could not remember her name.
Her legs ached from the long ride. Memories of riding behind Sir Thomas, clinging to him, struck her forcefully and her cheeks started to burn. Ankarette shoved the thoughts aside and maneuvered to the curtained window like a newborn colt. Pushing apart the folds of fabric, she stared outside.
Her breath caught at the splendor of the scene. This set of windows faced north, away from the town, and she had an unobstructed view of the massive waterfall spilling down the jagged face of the cliff. The sunlight bathed the stone in golden light, and the beauty of it snatched her heart like a fisherman’s hook. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought of seeing such a view every day. Her good fortune, the change that had come into her life, was simply beyond belief. And her mother would not be left alone and struggling. The duke had promised to provide for her, which settled a nagging concern Ankarette had harbored since leaving Yuork.
“Is there anything you’ll be needing, miss?” asked the chambermaid with a quick bob and awkward curtsy. Ankarette was a fellow servant. She didn’t deserve such a display of respect.
“What’s your name?” she asked the girl, giving her a friendly smile.
“Kamryn,” said the girl with pleasure.
“How long does Lady Isybelle usually sleep?”
The waif glanced at the bed. “She’s been known to sleep for a good while, miss.” She paused, then added, “I’d heard someone was coming, but I didn’t know it would be last night, miss. I’ll try not to wake you tomorrow.”
Ankarette shook her head. “I don’t like to sleep late. If I’m not awake before you come in the morning, would you wake me?”
Kamryn’s eyes widened. “Yes, miss.”
“Thank you.” Ankarette asked her some more questions to get an understanding for how the daughters of the duke spent their days. There were lessons in language, history, and mathematics. Rides in the valley accompanied by protectors. Lady Isybelle enjoyed falconry as well. The waif was a fount of information, and judging from Iysbelle’s lack of movement, the duke’s daughter was a deep sleeper.
After the brief chat, the chambermaid left. Ankarette explored the room, looking at the various combs, mirrors, and jewelry boxes in a state of disarray. There were gowns strewn over the floor as well, marking Lady Isybelle’s preference for a state of untidiness. She walked around the room, examining it from different angles, admiring the cut of the stone in the walls and the decorative trim above the doorway.
Embroidery was something Ankarette’s mother had taught her to love, and she was thrilled to find a basket crowded with hoops and thread and needles and half-finished works. There was a partially done rose, a bird’s beak and eyes, the trim of vines and leaves—all tossed aside unfinished. Nestling back down on the couch, Ankarette began to work on the flower. As she worked, her mind sorted through the events of the preceding day. Embroidery helped her open the door to her thoughts and sort through them in a deep, satisfying way. As she made the tiny, precise stitches, she felt better equipped to judge the truth of whatever was vexing or confusing her. Something about it helped her reason through her feelings and solve problems.
“I was asleep when you came last night,” said a voice at her elbow, startling her.
It was the dark-haired girl, Isybelle’s sister. Ankarette hadn’t heard the child slip out of bed a
nd pad up to her. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Sometimes I sleep in Belle’s bed.” She was looking at Ankarette in an almost accusatory way.
“I see,” she answered, setting down her needlework. She had a natural way with children. Some people were afraid of children because their behavior was erratic and hard to predict, but Ankarette found them adorable. “Does your papa know?”
The girl shook her head slowly, a small frown twisting her mouth.
“Ah, I see. Are you worried that I’ll tell him?”
The girl stared daggers at Ankarette.
“Are you Isybelle’s sister?”
“I am. I’m Nanette.”
“I thought you were.” Ankarette gave her a warm smile. “Nanette, I am very good at keeping secrets. I won’t tell your papa. If he asks me, I will be truthful. You should always be truthful. But I will not mention it to him.”
Nanette surprised her with a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Karette! I like your name. It’s close to mine.”
Ankarette smiled and saw that Isybelle was sitting up, rubbing her bleary eyes.
“Go back to your room, Nanette,” she said. “The governess will be looking for you by now.”
The younger girl obeyed and slipped quietly out of the room.
Ankarette pushed aside the hoop and needlework and rose. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night, my lady. I was very weary.”
Isybelle smiled and waved off the apology. “No need, Ankarette.” She slid her legs off the bed and rose, then grabbed a blanket as a shawl and wrapped it around her nightdress. “Sir Thomas mentioned that you’d been up the entire night before helping with the birthing of a child. I’ve never witnessed something like that. I’m afraid I’d be shocked and faint. They say there is a lot of blood.” Her skin took on a greenish cast.
“Sometimes,” Ankarette replied. “You were kind to put a blanket on me. Thank you.”