"Oh, shite,” Daragh said. “He's gotten another megrim! Get me a cup of water, quickly!” As the other servant hastened to pour the water, the healer rummaged in his satchel, brought out an amber bottle and uncorked it. Pouring a generous amount in the cup he took it from the servant, leaned over Dek and put it to his lips. “Here. Drink."
Dek made a horrible face as he drank the tenerse-laced water but almost instantly the potent narcotic took effect so by the time Daragh helped him to lay back on his pillow, his mouth was numb and his head was easing off considerably.
"I've got to re-stitch this wound, Dek."
"Do it,” Dek mumbled. Between the rum already in his system and the tenerse, he was rapidly losing consciousness. The last thing he heard was Daragh ordering the servant to find Jules or Guy.
* * * *
Ynez paced the landing from one end to the other as the healer worked on her husband. Jules had come barreling up the stairs earlier, had given her a snarl that actually showed his teeth, and then had ordered guards outside his cousin's chamber door.
Jabbing a finger in her direction, Jules had barked, “She is not to enter this room without His Grace's express permission. Is that understood?"
"Aye, captain!” the men had agreed in unison.
The healer had ignored her when he'd come out of the room. Though she pleaded with him to tell her how her husband was, he continued down the stairs, as though he'd lost his hearing. Not even the two servants who had come out of the room carrying Dek's bloody shirt and a pan of instruments would give her any information. She made a mental note to see the both of them lashed for their impertinence once Dek left Drogh-gheay once again.
By the time Miriam finally came upstairs to draw Ynez from her vigil the Baroness had worked herself into a furious state of mind.
"How dare they treat me in this manner?” she demanded of her old governess.
"Come downstairs and go about your business as though nothing happened,” Miriam advised. “The damage has already been done. Pacing about up here only makes the servants see you as weak, and it makes you look guilty."
"Won't they see me as a caring wife worried about her husband?” Ynez asked.
"Nezzie, they know how you feel about the man. No, they only see you as responsible for having done him harm. Now, come away! There is something I need to tell you."
Jules took that moment to exit from Dek's room but other than casting Ynez a murderous glance, he made no comment to either woman and thundered down the stairs, calling out to a maid to tell him where the healer had gone.
"I hate that odious bastard almost as much as I do Deklyn,” Ynez growled.
"There is someone who deserves your hate even more,” Miriam said. “Best you vent your spleen on her."
Ynez narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?"
Miriam lowered her voice. “Your husband has at last taken a mistress."
"But that is good news, isn't it?” Ynez asked. “I can go before the Tribunal earlier than planned and...."
"He has declared her his Cochianglt,” Miriam informed her and nodded when Ynez gasped. “Aye, he has and you know what that means."
"Cochianglt?” Ynez repeated almost in a whisper. Her eyes widened. “That's impossible!"
"This is the woman for whom he's been searching all these years,” Miriam said, reminding Ynez. “You cannot divorce him now. You dare not."
Ynez's face bleached of its color as realization set in. Divorce was one thing. To have her marriage declared invalid when Dek took the Cochianglt as his bride was quite another. In the doing, Ynez would lose the title of Baroness and all hope of acquiring the vast lands and yearly revenues from those lands that had been part of the bride-price her father signed over to Dek upon their Joining.
"No, I cannot,” Ynez said. “Those lands are rightfully mine. The money belongs to me!"
"They belong to him,” Miriam said, “and he can do with them as he wishes."
Ynez grabbed her lover's arm. “Miri, we have to do something! I cannot lose all I have suffered to keep all these years!"
"And you will not,” Miriam stated. “But you must remain married to him, Ynez. You must not allow him to set the marriage aside and take this harlot as his wife."
"But how?” Ynez asked. “How can we do that?"
"There is but one way,” Miriam says.
Horror filled Ynez's brown eyes. She shook her head vigorously. “No. Not that. I will not do that!"
"You have no choice!” Miriam hissed. “You know what will happen now when he puts you aside. He can send you to Galrath if he so chooses. What do you think will happen then, Nezzie?"
"Galrath?” Ynez repeated then shuddered at the thought of the infamous nunnery in the Serenian outlands.
"It must be done, Ynez,” Miriam said. “Leave the details to me. I will see to everything."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nine
Maire put up a hand to shield her eyes as the sound of harness echoed across the cliff. She was amazed to see five wagons following in the wake of the carriage in which Guy had brought her to the cottage. She got to her feet, shaking her head at the warrior as he pulled the carriage to a halt.
"Did you buy out the stores, then, Guyland?” she laughed.
"All but,” he replied, looping the reins on the brake handle before hopping down. “I believe I have everything you'll need to start housekeeping. The last wagon has all the personal stuff you brought with you as well as a few surprises.” He looked around. “Dek hasn't been by?"
"I've not seen nor heard from him,” Maire said.
"That's strange,” Guy said, brows clashing over his hawkish nose.
"Perhaps he changed his mind about me,” she said.
"Not a chance,” Guy stated emphatically. “All it means is he's having a bitch of a time with that witch of a wife of his. He'll be along shortly, I'm sure."
Even so, by the time the sun set and the lamps lighted in Maire's new home, there had still been no sign of Deklyn or Jules—which Guy assured her was most strange, indeed.
"Something's wrong,” Guy said. “I'd best head back to the keep and see what's amiss."
Maire reached out to take hold of his arm. “Guy, maybe he really has changed his mind and now regrets...."
"Nonsense. Stop trying to buy trouble where there is none, lass,” Guy said, patting her hand. He looked past her to the middle aged couple he had hired to be maid and gardener—hires Dek had insisted Guy make when they had spoken of it on ship. “Take care of your mistress and see she doesn't overdo."
"Aye, Captain!” Carolyn Demerest agreed. “Me and Hank will look to our lady for you.” She and her husband had taken the largest of the three rooms on the ground floor as their bedchamber and had already moved in their meager belongings. Maire had given them a second room as a sitting room and taken the third for a sewing room as Jules had suggested.
Maire stood at the window to watch Guy until his carriage was swallowed up by the light fog that had drifted in from the ocean. In the distance she could hear a fog horn skirling and when she looked farther southward, the occasional flash of golden light coming from the lighthouse at Drogh-gheay lit the twilight. Sighing heavily, she went back into her new home—shoulders slumped—and ventured into the kitchen where Carolyn was standing at the counter peeling potatoes.
"I'll get the pork chops breaded,” she told the older woman.
Carolyn had been warned by Guy that the lady of the house would most likely prefer to do much—if not all—the cooking herself. Her task was to take as much off milady as milady would allow.
"That's a spunky little goat you got there, milady,” Carolyn's husband Hank observed. She had set him to stripping the husks off ears of fresh corn she'd purchased at the market earlier in the day.
"Her name is Jenny,” Maire said listlessly. She washed three pork chops at the sink, set them aside then dried her hands on the ever-present apron tied ‘round her waist. She opened th
e flour tin and scooped out a cupful. “Did she give you a rough time?"
"Nay, milady,” Hank laughed. “She wanted to play, she did. She needs a mate, I'm thinkin'."
"Don't we all,” Maire mumbled under her breath. She paused in dredging the pork chops through the flour she had turned onto a plate to stare at the wall. She sighed again then turned to retrieve a cast iron frying pan, filling it with corn oil.
Hank and Carolyn exchanged a knowing look for they had heard the low words. Too aware of their status as servants—and new ones at that—neither made a comment. Instead, Carolyn asked Maire what it was like where she had lived before coming to Tarryn.
"Dreary,” Maire said. “Dreary and dull and dangerous.” Pork chops ready to be fried once the corn and potatoes were done Maire went over to check on the two pots of water she had placed on the stove. Both were close to boiling so she added a few pinches of salt to both pots.
"So what are we going to plant in them garden spots Hank'll be clearing tomorrow, milady?” Carolyn inquired as she brought the peeled potatoes to the sink.
"Vegetables in one and the smaller will be my herb garden. One section for cooking herbs and the other for medicinal needs,” Maire replied. She watched the older woman cut the potatoes into large chunks then dump them into the boiling water.
"Where you want this corn, Caro?” Hank asked.
His wife rolled her periwinkle blue eyes. “I guess ‘tis too much to expect you to wash it, eh? Just give it here, old man."
Glad to be finished with what he no doubt considered women's work Hank ambled out of the kitchen.
"Men are nigh to worthless when it comes to knowing the ins and outs of cooking,” Carolyn observed. “'Tis a wonder they don't starve to death when they ain't got a good woman to see to their bellies. That one can't even boil water without scorching the pan."
Maire smiled. “My husband was one who could burn water, too, if you didn't watch him."
Carolyn gave her new mistress a surprised look. “You were married, milady?"
"I was,” Maire answered. “He's dead now."
"Oh,” Carolyn said. “My condolences."
"Thank you,” Maire said on a long sigh.
With the corn in the pot and the potatoes bubbling away to give a starchy scent to the air, Maire sat down at her new table where she had placed three place settings and stared at the empty chair across from her. She had hoped to fix Dek a nice meal, but it was obvious she would not be seeing him until the next day—if then.
"She's a terrible woman they say,” Carolyn said.
Maire swung her head around. “Who?"
"His wife,” she replied then clarified. “The Baroness."
Knowing she shouldn't be indulging in gossip about Dek's wife, Maire's curiosity got the better of her. “What has she done to warrant such an assessment, Caro?” she asked, using the older woman's nickname.
Caro beamed at the familiarity. She wiped her hands on a towel and came over to the table, her grin widening when Maire indicated she was to sit. She leaned forward with her elbows on the table.
"She beats the servants when he's not there to stop her,” the older woman says and nodded at Maire's shocked look. “Aye and she's been known to order a full-on lashing if one of them does something that really sets her off.” She lowered her voice, even though they were alone in the kitchen. “Just yesterday she slashed a poor serving maid across the bosoms with that little whip she carries with her. Cut Lisle right badly, it did."
Worry creases formed between Maire's eyebrows. “Does His Grace know this is happening?"
Caro shook her head. “By the goddess, no, he don't, milady! Anyone who dares to speak up and tell him would be minus their tongues if they did. He ain't here often and when he leaves, she takes it out on them what can't defend themselves."
"That's most distressing to hear, Caro,” Maire said. “And His Grace needs to put a stop to such doings."
"She's a bad ‘un, milady, and that there companion of hers? That one named Miriam? She's just as bad if'n she ain't worse! Together they make a mighty evil pair.” She hesitated then reached out to touch Maire's arm gently. “I'm just telling you this, milady ‘cause I wouldn't want nothin’ to happen to you.” She squeezed Maire's arm. “You should stay clear of the both of them, milady. It ain't safe for you to do otherwise. His Grace can protect you when he's at home but when he's away?” She shook her head. “It worries me. It truly does."
A trickle of unease slithered down Maire's back, and she looked to the front door that had been left open to the late afternoon breeze. “Perhaps we should lock the doors when the sun goes down,” she suggested.
"A right good idea and I'll have Hank check all the windows,” Caro said and shot to her feet to do just that. As she hurried through the great room, Maire got up to shut and lock the back door, as well.
It was a quiet, subdued supper the three ate and after insisting on being the one to do the clean up, Caro shooed Maire out of the kitchen. “Go try out that new swing on your balcony, milady. You've earned an hour or two with your feet up. Me and Hank will finish up."
Depressed, Maire agreed and slowly made her way up the stairs. She had not seen Deklyn the entire day and his absence had affected her more than she was willing to admit. As she slowly rocked the swing back and forth with her bare feet, she stared into the now thick fog, feeling the light pebbling of moisture hitting her face.
She barely felt the hot tears that slowly coursed down her cheeks.
* * * *
"It was late when I got back else I would have sent word to her,” Guy fumed. “Damned carriage wheel split off the axle not three miles from her place and in that gods-be-damned pea soup fog, I couldn't see my hand ‘til it was almost to my face!"
"It's a wonder he wasn't traipsing around in circles trying to make his way home as it was,” Daragh commented as he, Jules and Guy broke their fast the next morning. They were seated at the large harvest table in the kitchen where the three men were most likely to be found at the crack of dawn each day. “You know he doesn't have much of a sense of direction in the clear light of day."
"He is sitting right here, Daragh!” Guy complained.
"Well he should have done what he knew was right,” the healer said with a snort.
"That's a fact,” Jules agreed. “I'm just saying you should have sent her word that Dek was ailing, Guy. My guess is she's brooded about him all the night long."
"And that concerns you how, Jules?” Guy asked his brother. “I thought you didn't give two figs how the wench felt."
"Aye, well, that was before,” Jules muttered, scooping up the last of the porridge in his bowl and indicating to the cook that he'd like a refill. “She's not like most females."
"She's unlike any female you've ever met,” Guy said. “Me, either. Maire is a lady and she's a good woman. That's rare when you get two for the price of one in a female."
"I'm looking forward to meeting this paragon of virtue,” Daragh said. “Mayhap I'll take a drive out there later this morn to welcome her."
"That would not be amiss, I'm thinking,” Jules acknowledged. “She'll be your patient so checking on her would be wise.” He shook his head to an offer of more coffee. “And he won't be up until well after noon—if then."
"I hear you dosed him again around three this morn,” Guy said. “I hope this ain't one of them headaches that last for a day or two."
"Shaping up to be that way,” Daragh said with a scowl. “I'm going to dose him again at seven of the clock, and if he's still got it at eleven, I'll give him a strong dose of pairilis."
"He'll sleep ‘til nightfall if you do that,” Guy complained.
"I'll let his lady know so she won't be worried about him,” Daragh said and the other men knew he wasn't referring to Ynez.
"Jules, you and I need to go into Cathair and make a few more purchases for Sheidaghan."
"For who?” Jules grumbled with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “What the fuck
are you babbling about and why the hell should I go anywhere with you?"
"Sheidaghan is what she named the place,” Guy said.
"Oh,” Jules said. “You could have been clearer about that, you moron.” He chewed the porridge as though it was meat. “What else does she need?"
"Livestock,” Guy said with a sigh. “A few goats, chickens, ducks, a milk cow, perhaps a few pigs."
Jules snorted. “She won't be slaughtering them, Guyland, and she won't allow you to do it, neither, so what's the use of having livestock?"
"Chickens and ducks for eggs, cow for milk, and a goat for what?” Daragh inquired.
"The goats to be companions for Jenny as well as milk,” Guy replied. “I guess we can do without the pigs."
"Well, maybe one to clean up the garbage,” Jules commented.
"You'll need feed,” Daragh said. “For them all."
"And a horse and buggy for her so the hired hand can drive her into town when she wants to go,” Guy said. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Settling up a homestead sure is work."
"You finished eating?” Jules asked.
"Aye."
"Then let's get this shite done. I've got men to train this afternoon and so do you,” Jules reminded his brother. He scraped his chair back, turning his attention to Daragh. “We'll see you at Maire's. I'm guessing we'll be bringing herders with us for all that blasted livestock he wants to get. Tell her not to go to no trouble fixing us a noon meal. We'll bring something out for the lot of us."
Daragh's red brow cocked upward. “Is that a fact?"
"Aye, that's a fact,” Jules mimicked with a downturn of his lips. “What's it to you?"
Both red brows shot up. “Nary a thing. Just asked."
"Just asked,” Jules echoed before stomping off.
"She's won his black heart over,” Guy said as he, too, got up from the table. “Won't admit it but she has."
"Now I am even more eager to make the lady's acquaintance,” Daragh said. He wiped his mouth on his napkin then got to his feet. “I'll be leaving here as soon as I see to Dek."
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