by Jeff Wheeler
Isybelle walked up to her, giving her a pleased and friendly smile. She took Ankarette’s hands and stroked them with her thumbs. “I’m grateful you agreed to come. I have many acquaintances, but I’ve never had my own particular friend. Well, except for Nanette, but she likes to be with Cousin Severn more than me.” She smiled wryly.
“The king’s brother is here?”
“Severn is, yes. Dunsdworth used to be, but he’s the Duke of Clare, so he spends more time at that estate now. I thought he would stay until he was of age, sixteen, but Cousin Eredur sent him away.” Her countenance fell.
Ankarette gave her a curious look. “When did that happen?”
Isybelle turned away sharply, concealing her face. “Not long ago.” Then she looked back and tried to smile, though it failed to mask her inner anguish. “But I’m glad you are here now. I need a friend.”
“I’m grateful to be here.”
“Do you like Dundrennan, Ankarette? It is the most beautiful castle in all the realm. Well, maybe not as beautiful as Kingfountain, I’ll admit, but it is so peaceful here in the North. I hope you will be happy here.”
Ankarette wasn’t sure what she had expected, but Isybelle was clearly starving for friendship. There was a huge gap between their stations in life, but the duke’s eldest daughter treated Ankarette like an equal. The lady was highborn, not haughty.
“I’m very pleased to be able to serve you, my lady,” she said.
Isybelle shook her head and gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Please. In private, call me Belle.”
A new world had opened before Ankarette Tryneowy like a chest of glittering treasure. The only portions of the castle forbidden to her were the duke and duchess’s personal chambers and the treasury, and within the first few days, she had visited the entire fortress and knew her way around. The palace was full of servants and those seeking the duke’s patronage. While he was gone, his wife ruled in his stead. The duchess of the North, a wealthy heiress in her own right, was a stately woman with honey-brown hair and only a few streaks of gray. She was prim and proper and gave Ankarette the condescending looks she’d expected from Isybelle.
In addition to the taciturn castellan, Stiev Horwath, Ankarette had also been introduced to Severn Argentine, the king’s youngest brother, who spent his days in the training yard practicing to become a knight. He was about Ankarette’s age, although his brooding looks and crooked back made him seem older. His vigilant training was impressive, but she avoided him because he had a gift for sarcasm and biting words.
The duke had departed for Occitania within a day or two of Ankarette’s arrival, to commence negotiations for a bride for the king. It was suspected that he would be away for months, yet still the Espion came to bring the duchess tidings of his travels. The duke and duchess seemed to genuinely care for each other, and the household staff respected their masters—though they had exacting standards, they were never malicious.
Ankarette loved the daily rides with Isybelle and she benefitted from the education that the duke provided to his daughters. The castle boasted an extensive library, and Ankarette was encouraged to read, though she didn’t need any coaxing to pick up books. Taught by her father to read, she loved all manner of histories, especially about the long line of Argentine kings. Isybelle, she discovered, preferred the legends about the Fountain-blessed. Ankarette’s father had always been skeptical about those ancient stories. He hadn’t believed in magic. In the stories, the Fountain-blessed were capable of such impossible feats as divining the future, swaying others’ thoughts, changing appearance at will, and immense prowess in battle. People whispered that there were still Fountain-blessed, but he’d never believed it.
Her favorite part of her new life, undoubtedly, was her Espion training with Sir Thomas. These lessons coincided with Isybelle’s singing lessons, and they marked the only time Ankarette spent away from the duke’s daughter. Sir Thomas taught her how to handle and throw a blade, how to wrestle a man to the ground, and how to quickly incapacitate someone by attacking his or her vulnerable spots. He showed her the Espion ring on his finger, which startled her at first because she had remembered seeing one like it on her father’s hand. She’d always assumed it was a trifle, an outward sign of his prosperity. Sir Thomas promised that she would earn a ring of her own after she had completed her training, which would take at least a year.
She asked many questions. He never hesitated in answering them, except for one.
“Did something happen between Eredur and Lady Isybelle?” she had asked him one day while attempting to pick a lock with a wire and dagger. She was a quick study, so he had taken her to the dungeon to work on a harder kind of lock. The low light added to the difficulty, and he had refused her request to bring the torch closer. She struggled, lips pursed, trying to feel the latching mechanism with the wire.
“Ach, Ankarette,” he said with a sigh. “You can’t ask me that.”
“Why not?” she replied, keeping her gaze fixed on the lock. She squinted, bringing her face so close that her nose touched the metal. “It’s obvious something did.”
“Obvious, you say?”
“She blushes every time his name is mentioned. Almost every time. Duke Dunsdworth was sent away recently. And Duke Warrewik seems more intent on delaying negotiations for a foreign bride than he is on finding one. I think he wants his daughter to be Eredur’s queen.”
The lock snicked and Ankarette stood and opened the cell door.
“Clever lass,” he said, nodding toward the lock.
She felt her cheeks flush with his praise. “What happened, Sir Thomas?”
He folded his arms. “I can’t tell you, lass. Nor should I. Did the duke ask you to find out from me? Is this one of his tests of loyalty?”
“No one asked me, Sir Thomas. I like to figure things out for myself. But the clues are all very cryptic. I can see why the king wouldn’t want to marry Lady Isybelle.”
Sir Thomas wrinkled his brow. “And how would you know that? You’re acquainted with the king, are you?”
“I know very little about him or his character. But the duke of the North is very powerful. I don’t think the king would want to give him any more power.”
Sir Thomas chuckled softly. “Oh, I think we’ll make an Espion out of you yet, lass. You’re more thoughtful than I’d given you credit for, and I’m not the type to flatter. I cannot say whether anything happened between the king and the duke’s daughter or not. Loyalty binds me. You’ll have to take the king’s measure yourself. See how he strikes you.”
“I hope to do that,” Ankarette said, feeling pleased. “Someday.”
Sir Thomas chuckled again. “Someday. Aye. Tomorrow. He’s on the way to Dundrennan now. A hunting trip.” He gave her a wry smile.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Misty Falls
One of Ankarette’s favorite places in the valley was near the base of the massive waterfall. The spray of the plummeting water came down in clouds of mist that roiled and churned and fed the huge river that wound all the way to the city of Kingfountain. The base of the waterfall was a large bowl-shaped pond and the ground around it was sandy and flat, free of towering, moss-covered pines, although those majestic sentinels stood nearby. The castle loomed farther down the mountainside.
The air was cool from the mist and the cacophonous waterfall was so loud, one practically had to shout to be heard over it.
That afternoon, the afternoon before the king was due to arrive, Isybelle, Ankarette, and Sir Thomas had made their way to the pond for an outing. Isybelle had brought her favorite falcon, a creature she had named Spark, to hunt, and they’d watched it soar over the wide expanse of the valley, majestic and fearsome, and then plummet down with a shriek to catch a hare. Sir Thomas had skinned the animal and provided the victorious hunter with strips of bloody meat.
“She’s an admirable bird, Lady Isybelle,” Sir Thomas said, tossing the hunter another scrap of meat.
Spark seemed to sense
the compliment and uttered a loud squawk.
Isybelle laughed mildly. “She’s a he, Sir Thomas. I think you offended him.”
He laughed. “A thousand pardons. Here are the gizzards and other tripe for him to feast on next. He made quick work of that hare.”
“Indeed,” Isybelle said, scrunching her nose. She looked squeamish at the sight of the hare’s entrails, but Ankarette found them fascinating. Being a midwife’s apprentice, she had a naturally strong stomach and an insatiable curiosity about how bodies were formed. “So did you. Your hands are very bloody.”
Ankarette watched for signs of affection between Isybelle and the knight, but all she had seen was friendship. He always treated them both with respect.
“That does happen when butchering an animal,” he conceded. “I was about to wash them in the river by yonder boulder. The one the size of a cottage. Would that I could have seen it come tumbling down from the heights above. For all we know, there’s a skeleton smashed beneath it!”
Ankarette smiled at his humor and studied the boulder. It was indeed as tall as a cottage. It hulked partway into the river, but that boulder was not going to budge regardless of the current. How many generations had it sat there, all misshapen and bulky? It was fascinating to think about all the things it must have seen—the people who had come and gone.
Sir Thomas tossed the final scraps of meat to Spark and then rose with his hands dripping. “When I was a lad of twelve, my brother and I used to clamber onto that boulder and jump into the river.”
“You did not!” Lady Isybelle chided. “That water is freshly melted snow!”
“Aye, it is a bit cold,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But if you don’t stay in the river long, your teeth will chatter a bit, nothing more. No, the hard part is mustering the courage to jump. It looks even larger when you’re standing atop it, I assure you.”
“I dare you to jump in right now,” Isybelle said. “Before we ride back to the castle.”
He chuffed. “Now where is the fun in that, my lady? I’ve jumped in a dozen times at least.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “He’s toying with us, Ankarette. Seeing how gullible we are. The river is too fast—you’d be swept away.”
He cocked his head at her. “I see what you’re doing, lass. Trying to goad me into making a spectacle of myself. The river is swift, but not around the boulder. The bulk of it slows down the river. Come closer, and you’ll see what I mean.”
He sauntered over to the river’s edge and squatted by it, washing his hands clean.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Isybelle asked.
Ankarette nodded. “He doesn’t seem the kind of man who tells stories.”
“Now look at him,” Isybelle sighed. “He’s going to make his way to that boulder, you mark my words. There he goes! I was right.”
“You teased him into doing it,” Ankarette pointed out.
“I didn’t think he actually would. Do you think he will climb up and jump?”
Ankarette saw Thomas craning his neck as he patrolled around the boulder. He massaged the rough hide of the rock. Then he unbuckled his sword belt and dropped it and his dagger to the earth.
“Your strategy worked,” Ankarette said.
The back side of the boulder was broken and had a little shelf on it, and in a few minutes, Sir Thomas had clawed his way to the top. He stood there, hands on his hips, gazing up at the falls as the mist swirled around him. He shouted something down to them, but neither of them could hear him.
“Let’s go closer,” Isybelle said. “Spark is devouring the hare. He’s tethered and won’t fly away.”
Ankarette rose and followed her to the boulder where Sir Thomas was still strutting around, arms folded. She felt a prick of uneasiness and hoped he didn’t fall. A man could break his neck from that height.
“Have you ever climbed up here, Lady Isybelle?” he asked her.
“Of course not,” she said.
He dropped down, squatting on his haunches. “Why not? It isn’t a difficult climb. The view of the falls is most impressive. See the water down there?” He pointed to a spot at the base. “Toss in a tree branch and you’ll see it doesn’t go fast. The water is quite calm right there. It’s safe to jump. I wouldn’t lie about an adventure. Ankarette believes me. Don’t you, lass?”
She was gazing up at him, feeling an eager desire to be up there with him, but she shifted her gaze as soon as he said her name.
“How do you get up?” Isybelle asked, walking around the base.
“It’s easier to climb from right there,” he said, rising and walking over to where the broken part had formed a makeshift step. “Are you going to climb up, my lady?”
“If Ankarette helps me,” she answered, her eyes gleaming with the adventure. “Come on.”
It was her own heart’s desire, so she easily succumbed. Sir Thomas scuttled down and met them on the broken side of the boulder, on the step halfway down. He reached down with one hand, gripping a knobby bit of stone with the other.
“Come on, lass. Reach up.”
Isybelle approached the rock and Ankarette stood behind her, ready to help push her up . . . only she found herself imagining what the duke would say if he found out about their adventure.
“Is this wise?” she asked.
Isybelle turned her head, looking confused. “Of course it isn’t. I might tear my dress. I don’t think I could jump down into the water, but I do want to see the view.”
“You’ll be fine, lass.” Sir Thomas smiled confidently down at them. “Grab my hand.”
Lady Isybelle readied herself again and Ankarette prepared to push her. In a trice, the duke’s daughter was up on the boulder and gazing down wonderingly. “My goodness, it is beautiful. I feel like the wind could knock me down.”
Ankarette stepped back, craning her neck to see them. Isybelle’s arms were tightly folded as she stared down at the river. Then she turned and beckoned for Ankarette to join them.
So she did. Stepping up to the rock, she caught hold of a ridge of stone.
“Grab my hand, lass. I’ll pull you up to the ledge.”
There was the proffered hand again.
“I can manage it, Sir Thomas,” she said with determination.
He chuckled. “Aye. I know you could, Ankarette. But it’s just a little help.”
A sudden lump in her throat made it difficult to swallow. She pushed against the discomfort and reached up for his hand. His grip was firm and she scrabbled up the side of the boulder to join him on the small ledge. Then, as he had done with Isybelle, he put his hands on her waist and hoisted her up the rest of the way.
“There we are,” he said, mounting the apex of the boulder behind them. “Not as much room with three, I’ll daresay. Make way.” The three of them stood there, looking out at the water as the mist continued to fall in never-ending plumes from the roaring falls. In the brightness of the day, a rainbow glimmered in the mist. The boulder thrummed with the commotion.
“Are you going to jump, Sir Thomas?” Isybelle asked worriedly. “It does look much farther down from here.” She swayed a little and caught herself.
He stood, arms akimbo, and shrugged. “Only if one of you will jump with me.”
“I couldn’t,” Isybelle said resolutely, trembling with fear. Her eyes were wide as she gazed off the edge. “Get me down, Sir Thomas. I think I might faint.” Ankarette, worried, caught hold of Isybelle’s arm to steady her.
Sir Thomas nodded and took hold of her other arm. “That happens to some folks, lass. They get dizzy when they get up on heights. There is a bridge atop the falls. Haven’t you been there?”
“I have,” Isybelle said. “But I can never stay on it for long. I feel dizzy when I’m up there, and I need to get down.”
“Very well. Let’s go back the way we came.” Sir Thomas shuffled off to the lower portion and Ankarette helped the other girl down to him. From there, the knight helped lower her all th
e way to the ground.
Isybelle reached the bottom and stumbled, but didn’t fall. She got up and brushed her hands together. “That is much better,” she said. “I don’t care for that boulder, Sir Thomas. You can have it all to yourself.”
Laughing at her comment, he turned and gazed up at Ankarette. “So. Would you like to jump down to the river, lass?”
A thrill of excitement ran through her.
“I would,” she said.
“Good girl. You have spirit.”
Ankarette turned and walked to the edge of the boulder. Looking down, she felt a spasm of utter terror. The water was indeed sluggish, but it looked cold. Isybelle stood at the water’s edge, hands clasped by her mouth, staring at Ankarette with a strange mix of hope and misery.
Sir Thomas came up behind her. “It’s not as far as it looks,” he said coaxingly. “You can do this.”
Ankarette realized she was breathing quickly, her pulse racing. She blinked, wondering absently what utter madness had driven her to stand at the edge of a boulder. Her stomach was clenching and she worried for a moment she would vomit.
With the noise of the falls bellowing in her ears, she felt very small, very vulnerable. Fear locked her legs. She tried to breathe slower, but the air was coming in and out too fast. Spots began to dance in her eyes.
“I can jump with you?” Sir Thomas offered, holding out his hand.
Her heart took another jolt, although not from fear this time, and resolution filled her to the brim. She would do this without his help. A man had to face his fears on the eve of his first battle. Sir Thomas had already faced his. A jump off a rock was nothing compared with the prospect of imminent slaughter. And Ankarette had faced her fears too, the fear that an infant would die while she was performing her charge.
“I can do this,” she said with conviction. Then she turned and stepped off the rock.
It took entirely too long for her to hit the water, and then she was sheathed in liquid ice that seemed to stab through her gown, through her skin, and freeze her very marrow. Where was the surface? Had she screamed on the way down? Thoughts jumbled in her mind. Images of her life came in rapid succession. The trees. The falls. The boulder. Sir Thomas’s bloody hands.