by Luz Gabás
“What’s wrong with Remon?” Brianda asked. “He hardly said a word to me.”
“With him and everybody else,” Gisabel answered in a low voice. “It’s difficult to get used to the master’s ways.”
“As far as I know, there is no master here,” said Brianda, her mood stormier by the second.
“The same day you left, Jayme of Cuyls called us all together and, in your mother’s presence, he declared that, as your father’s only male cousin, he was now master of this estate. He comes and goes as he pleases, though he never spends the night here.”
Brianda cursed. The thief couldn’t even wait to marry Elvira to achieve his goal. She glanced at the tied-up horses.
“He is in the hall, with the mistress,” Gisabel confirmed.
“I need Cecilia and you in my room immediately. Don’t tell my mother.”
“Cecilia is locked in the cellar.”
Brianda felt her bad humor give way to rage. She charged into the house like a hurricane. She clambered down some narrow stone steps, seized the key from its hook, and opened the door to the cellar, a damp room with a vaulted ceiling, cobwebs, a smell of rats, moldy walls, and barrels standing on wooden beams. In a corner of the floor, lying on an old blanket, she found Cecilia, dirty and half-frozen.
“Let’s get out of here,” Brianda said, helping Cecilia to her feet.
Following behind, Gisabel warned her, “The master and mistress will be very angry.”
Brianda did not answer. She led the servants to her room, ordered Cecilia to get cleaned up, change her clothes, and pack her things. Brianda then asked Gisabel to help her with her own. She opened the two chests where the clothes and trousseau were stored: linen sheets, blouses and chemises, headdresses, scarves and fine tablecloths. She put in her combs, flasks of perfume, a hand mirror, and her small jewelry box. She made sure that the lid of the writing desk given to her by Johan was properly closed for the journey, and her hand went to her neck to check that the small key to the secret compartment was still there. Finally, she asked a surprised Gisabel to help her strip the bed and fold her sheets, as she was intent on bringing everything.
Cecilia came back carrying her bundle and watched the flurry of activity, her eyes wide.
“Where are we going, Mistress?” she finally asked.
Then, the door burst open and Elvira appeared. When she saw her daughter and the items being packed, she looked astonished.
“Brianda!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?” She looked at Cecilia and then at Gisabel. “You two, out now. I’ll deal with you later.”
Gisabel slipped out, but Brianda held Cecilia by her arm.
“You’re staying with me.”
Brianda stood before Elvira and looked her straight in the eyes. She had to take advantage of her rage to confront her.
“Mother, I need the servants to get some mules ready and help me with my things. I would prefer to bring everything now.”
Elvira’s pale skin flushed, and Brianda knew she was angry.
“And where do you think you are going?” asked Elvira, cold as ice.
“To Anels House.”
“This is your house, not that one—”
“You have decided this is not my house any longer!” Brianda shouted.
“You are my daughter, no matter how much that hurts Leonor, and you’ll do as I say.”
“Not now that I’m a married woman!”
Elvira raised a hand to her mouth.
“What has come over you to lie to your mother like this?”
“I’m not lying. Two days ago, Abbot Bartholomeu joined me to Corso in matrimony.” When she mentioned her husband’s name, Brianda felt assured. She lifted her chin and continued. “He didn’t die as we believed. He came back for me. Now he is the new master of Anels.”
Elvira clenched her teeth, and after a few tense moments, she turned around and marched out. Brianda took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“You married him?” Cecilia asked. “You shouldn’t have done it in January, the month of cold and scarcity. You will have dearth for the rest of your life, because as a marriage begins, so it ends.”
“Be quiet!” Brianda snapped. “The last thing I need is one of your omens. Do you think my mother will call for the servants?”
They heard steps in the corridor, and Jayme of Cuyls placed himself at the entrance to the room. Behind him, Brianda saw Elvira.
“Since when can a young girl do whatever she pleases without the approval of the men of the family?” Jayme of Cuyls had menace in his eyes. He came a few steps closer, took Cecilia by the arm, and threw her out of the room. Then he turned back to Brianda. “You might disobey your mother, but I’m your guardian now.”
“Actually, you should be grateful,” said Brianda. “To have me out of your way. For now—” She immediately regretted being so emphatic with those last words, as Jayme raised his eyebrow in surprise.
“Is that a threat?” he asked.
“Take it as you wish. I only want you to send me some servants, so I can return to my husband.”
“If what you’re saying is true, Father Guillem will see to its undoing. That Corso—” He snorted in disgust, as he again walked toward the door. “Your only husband will be whoever your mother and I deem suitable.”
Jayme took the door key out of the lock. When Brianda realized his intentions, it was already too late. She threw herself at him, but he pushed her away, went out, and locked the door from the outside.
“You’ll stay in there until you realize your mistake and understand that your mother’s decisions are the best for you and Lubich!”
For hours, Brianda shouted and pounded against the door. Hoarse and with her fists bloodied, she finally fell to the floor, and when the moon rose in the infinite space that it shared with the stars, she began to sob.
32.
Time ceased to exist in that room where she had grown up and which had now become her prison. Brianda did not know if it had been two or three times that the moon had given way to a pale sun that lit a silent and frozen world. Beside the door, there was a tray with some bread and cheese she had not touched. They had probably waited till her dejection had succumbed to drowsiness to stealthily slide it in.
She got out of bed, walked unsteadily toward the window that looked south, and observed her blurred reflection in one of the windows misted up by the cold. She was pale and red eyed, and her matted hair made her look like one of those widowed peasants to whom people gave a wide berth. She rested a cheek against the frozen pane and sighed. Happiness was a slippery state for her.
Suddenly, she heard a racket coming from the patio. She rubbed the condensation that blurred her view and saw a dozen men riding horses, from whose snouts and nostrils came a dense and intermittent mist, crossing through the entrance gates. At the front of the group, a man covered in a black cape leaned slightly over the withers of his black Friesian. Her heart jumped.
She opened the window and shouted his name. Corso looked up for a moment and motioned for her to remain calm. His attention was focused on another. Jayme of Cuyls appeared, buttoning his jerkin and cursing the servants of Lubich for having let the men enter.
“But they are the men of the deceased Nunilo!” Remon protested. “They have never been refused entry to this house!”
“I’m the one who decides who can and cannot enter!” Jayme shouted at Corso while approaching him. “Are you the leader of this group? Your face looks familiar. To what do I owe this unexpected visit at such an early hour?”
Corso looked at him. He remembered the day Surano had asked him to spy on Jayme and Medardo during the parliament in Monzon. He had noticed how Jayme did not take his eyes off Johan of Lubich. Afterward, they had met returning to Tiles, when Brianda had fallen ill. He had also seen him that morning in Aiscle before his men had caused Nunilo’s death. But he had never been face-to-face with him. So, this was the man who wanted to take Lubich away from Brianda. He controlled his wi
sh to unsheathe his sword and pierce the bastard’s heart. Now that he was no longer willing to flee, murdering Jayme would lead Corso straight to the scaffold.
“I am the Master of Anels, and I have come looking for my wife,” he answered with all the calmness he could muster.
Jayme took a surprised step backward. He looked at him closely and recognized him as Surano of Aiscle’s companion.
“Corso—” He frowned. “We already sent a servant with word that Brianda wanted to remain at her home for a while.”
“Her home is where her husband is. Perhaps she hasn’t told you that we are married?”
“That marriage is not valid!” said Elvira, coming from the inside patio. “How could you think for an instant that I would permit my daughter to marry someone like you?”
Corso put his hand into his jerkin and took out a piece of paper.
“I have here a copy of the document kept by the Abbot of Besalduch with all the blessings. If you wish, you may speak with him, but I’m not leaving without Brianda.”
“She doesn’t want anything to do with you,” said Elvira. “She returned because she saw the error of her ways. Shame prevents her from confronting you.”
Corso laughed aloud.
“I would like to hear that from her lips.” He raised his eyes to her window and shouted, “Brianda. Why don’t you come down? Perhaps you don’t want to return with me to Anels?”
“Corso!” Brianda leaned out dangerously. “I’m locked in! Help me!”
Corso’s face darkened. He hung his head, gritted his teeth to control his anger, took a deep breath, and leapt off the horse while unsheathing his sword and placing its tip on Jayme’s chest. Before anyone could react, his men copied him and surrounded the Lubich servants, with whom they had fought side by side in the past.
“Bring her down,” Corso ordered Elvira, “if you don’t want to lose this man as well.” He aimed his chin at Jayme, then gestured to two of his men to go with her.
Soon afterward, Brianda came out of the house followed by her mother and ran to the Friesian, barely containing her desire to jump into Corso’s arms. Before mounting, she stopped.
“Cecilia! I can’t leave without her!”
She went back to the house, guessing correctly that the girl was once more in the cellar. There she freed Cecilia, asking her to quickly go and get her things. Again outside, Brianda said to Corso, “I want my chests with my belongings. Everything is prepared in my room.”
Corso looked at Elvira.
“Are you going to get them or shall we come back another day?”
Elvira gestured with her head and the servants escorted by Corso’s men made various trips while others prepared some mules. When everything was ready and Brianda had mounted his horse, Corso removed his sword from Jayme’s chest and got up behind her. He spoke to Jayme and Elvira one last time. “Be clear about one thing. Brianda is now the wife of Corso of Anels and, as such, she has my support in all matters. Anyone who upsets her, no matter who they are, will pay for it.”
He covered Brianda with his cloak, spurred the horse’s sides, and left at a gallop. Brianda only just managed to exchange a brief look with her mother before Lubich disappeared in the distance. She was relieved to be with Corso again, but she felt a great sorrow that things had to be as they were. She still could not understand how Elvira could allow one of the rebels behind her father’s death into Lubich and her life. It was difficult to believe that a widow’s fear of loneliness was strong enough to bury Lubich’s centuries of honor and glory.
They continued at a gallop until they came to the fork for Anels. There, Corso slowed down and buried his head in the nape of her neck.
“Three nights, damn it,” he muttered. “I told you I would never again spend another night without you.”
“So why did you take so long?” she tried to joke. She placed a hand over his wound, and he grimaced in pain. “You’ll relapse because of me.”
“I’d do it as many times as it takes.” Corso looked into her sparkling eyes and then leaned down to hungrily kiss her, as if afraid she might disappear again.
Brianda pressed against him, but then he abruptly pulled away.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“A group of riders.”
She turned and saw a crimson-and-gold standard on a staff. The pikes and muskets glinted.
“Soldiers?”
“King’s soldiers.”
Brianda swallowed a moan. Her husband was still a deserter from the king’s army. It was impossible that they had come up to the mountains for him, but she still worried.
“Let’s go back to the others,” she suggested.
Corso pulled the reins and turned back. They quickly came upon the men from Anels and the laden mules. Brianda told Corso to change horses and to pretend he was one of the men.
“I will talk to the soldiers,” she said, combing her hair with her hands and gathering it up in a braid.
A few minutes later, they came up to the group of twenty-five soldiers with padded coats over their jerkins, leggings buttoned up to the knees, and faces reddened by the cold. The open-sleeved cloaks with the cross of Burgundy emblazoned on their front and rear left no doubt they were the king’s soldiers. Brianda wondered what they were doing in those lands. One of them came forward. His face was long, and he had a brown goatee. He wore a thick leather garment under his armor and a helmet with a plume of red feathers. His horse was the only one covered in a rich blanket, and there was another plume of feathers on top of the armor that covered its face.
“My name is Captain Vardan.”
“And I am Brianda of Lubich.” She adopted a haughty pose. “Who are you looking for?”
The captain looked at her closely. By her clothes, her saddle, her manners, and the company, he deduced that the girl was of the local nobility.
“We have orders from His Majesty to guard the crossings to France.”
“You are very few for so much mountain.”
Vardan smiled. “There are more in Aiscle. There will soon be three thousand of us to patrol this area. I hope that will please you.”
Brianda forced herself not to show any sign of alarm. Not even all the men in the county together could match a royal army of that size.
“Has the legal action been resolved over the possession of the County of Orrun?” she asked with studied indifference.
“Would you be happy if it had?” The captain squinted and Brianda suspected that he was trying to gauge which side she was on. “His Majesty has ordered that we make up for the count’s incompetence in clearing this region of French and Catalan troublemakers and ending the lawless banditry.”
“A task deserving of thanks,” replied Brianda with all the conviction she could feign. The king had sent soldiers to put out the very fire that he himself had started. The deaths of Nunilo and Johan had served for nothing.
The captain remained silent for a few moments, looking over the group of armed men behind her.
Fearing he would notice Corso, she explained, “I am taking my belongings to my new home. As you can see by my escort, my husband, the Master of Anels, also fears the bandits.”
Vardan’s face showed surprise. He put his hand into his jerkin and took out a wax-sealed document.
“I bring several messages from the king to the lords of the mountains. One of them is addressed to Anels. I understood he was an elderly gentleman. I am surprised he has taken such a young wife.”
“The previous master died. My husband is his son.” Brianda pointed to the east. “Our house is just over there, but if you wish I can give it to him. I am honored that His Majesty remembers those he had audience with in Monzon.”
The captain extended his arm and handed it over.
“I trust you to do it.” He raised his right arm and signaled to his men that they were leaving. “One more thing. Is this the way to Lubich?”
Brianda nodded. “It’s half a league away. You can be assure
d of a warm welcome there.”
She could have sworn that her voice had been neutral and not biting, but the captain raised his eyebrow slightly.
“And where wouldn’t I?” he asked.
Brianda shrugged. “Finding out is part of your job—”
She loosened the reins and kicked her heels into the horse’s side, and it began to trot slowly. She remained perfectly erect until she passed the fountain beside the spring, where Aldonsa and other servants were filling pitchers, and reached the yard of what was now her home. There, she rested on her horse’s withers and panted. Her hands were trembling.
Corso came to her side.
“You were adroit,” he said. “What did he give you?”
“A letter from the king for you.” She handed it to him. “He told me he had brought letters for several lords. I fear its contents.”
“You’ll have to tell me what it says,” he said, handing it back to her. “I can’t read.”
Brianda broke the seal, read the document in silence, and clicked her tongue.
“The resolution of the king to incorporate the County of Orrun into the Crown is definite. They make us a generous offer to abandon the count’s cause,” she explained, looking him in the eye. “This was never your war, and it’s possible you might find yourself on the losing side.”
Corso dismounted and helped her down.
“I could even now be one of those soldiers we’ve just seen, with worn clothes, a vacant look, and a hunger to pillage to improve my lot. No soldier chooses his fight, but through this war I met you, and now I am who I am.” He stroked her dark hair with both hands and then embraced her. “I couldn’t feel any more victorious.”
Brianda looked up to the sky, where the sun shone pale, almost white through the slight mist. At that moment, her only wish was to enter Anels and lock herself in with Corso, in the room from which she could see the empty fields and the smoky rooftops of Tiles, deceptively quiet before the decisions of men like the king, the count, or the master to whom they owed allegiance, content with their existence in that beautiful but remote, cold, and inhospitable place. She leaned against him to temper her trembling unease. Only by Corso’s side did she feel there was nothing to fear.