Ascalla's Daughter

by M. C. Elam

  “Evangeline’s inside, isn’t she?” He watched her ears perk. “That’s the way girl. You know Evangeline.”

  Her nose pushed against the tips of his knuckles. It felt cold in comparison to her warm breath. He held steady and let her make the next advance. She nosed him again. He watched the fury drain from her eyes. She lowered her head and pushed her muzzle into his palm.

  “Good girl,” he said in the same easy tone. He moved his hand until he could rub her ears. Chinera leaned against his thigh. “Come then, let’s see about getting the door open.” He took a step nearer the door.

  “Evangeline, please open the door?” he called.

  When she didn’t answer, Wryth tried the handle. It turned easily, but the crossbar was down. He put his shoulder against it, but the door held. The shutters, he thought, perhaps he could pry them open. He looked around the clearing for some kind of tool and then made for the lean-to and horse stall. Inside, he saw a full hayrack and fresh water in the drinking trough, proof she had tended the horse recently. A hayfork stood in one corner. He picked it up, went back to the cottage and set to work on the shuttered window. The wood began to splinter.

  “Leave me in peace. I want no visitors just now.”

  “Evangeline, it’s Father Wryth. Open the door.”

  “Go away and leave me alone.”

  Beside him, the wolf whined.

  “I can’t leave, my dear. I must speak to you and know that you are well. The wolf, Chinera, cries at your door and even your horse paces the clearing, agitated. You must open the door.”

  “Chinera will go when hunger drives her. Take Tommy with you to Falmora. He’s no longer mine. If you wish to do me service, hand him over to Captain Marcus and tell him I don’t want him anymore.”

  “Please, Evangeline. Open the door.” Wryth waited, a minute, five minutes, and then took a different tact. “I never thought of you as cruel. Too treat these animals so is a side of you I never thought to witness. Chinera’s foot bleeds. Tommy wanders about dazed. Turn me away. I matter little, but do not torment creatures that love you.”

  He thought she ignored him at first and picked up the hayfork to try the shutters again. He had just pushed the tines behind the loosest section when he heard the crossbar lift, and the door open. Chinera rushed inside, and he followed. The girl dropped to her knees, and put her arms around wolf’s neck.

  How long was it since he last saw her? They had left the first week of September, so a little more than a month ago. Yet the bright spirited look of fire in her dark eyes had vanished, replaced by a vacant, glazed expression. Her hair hung in limp strands, and she was so much thinner that he might not have recognized her. He had never seen her so grimy. She tried to stand and teetered.

  “I took Tommy to the stables again last night, but he keeps returning. I cannot convince him he does not belong to me.”

  “What is in your head girl? You look half-starved, and I’ve never known you to go unkempt. When did you last bathe?”

  “Food holds no allure. I am sick at heart, Father. If I am unkempt, who is to know? A pity no one succumbs from such a malady. As to what’s in my head, Hawk’s betrothal is in my head. I am used. How could you marry us?”

  “I learned of the betrothal after I married you, or I would never have agreed. Prince Hawk told me on the trail, but how is it you know?”

  “King Ian told me a few days after you left. He accused me of treason and said the marriage is not legal.”

  “It is legal enough once I post it in the cathedral records, but the three of us face treason charges if I do that. There is a way out of this Evangeline.”

  “What way out? I have no way out. That night changed me forever. I told Hawk that it would. Now it has come to pass.”

  “Will you allow me to destroy the marriage document?”

  She looked up at him. “I am changed, Father.”

  He knew she meant by the act of intercourse, and it was true.

  “Evangeline, you married Hawk with the best intent. Guilt rests on his shoulders, not yours.”

  She buried her face in Chinera’s fur. “I care not what you do. King Ian made it clear that he would set the marriage aside. What does it matter how?”

  He lifted her from the floor, and she collapsed against him. He picked her up, carried her to the bed in the far corner and covered her with a warm blanket. Once the fire was going, he searched through the meager food stores for something she could eat. He settled on oats and raisins, tossed them into a bubbling pot of water, and made a thin gruel. Today he was her priest, her advisor, and whatever transpired, he would not leave her to face the consequences alone, especially since he played a major role in the affair. He prayed no conception occurred on the night he had married them. From what he knew of such things, they were probably safe on that account, but he must ask her.

  When she was warm and comfortable, he brought her the cup of oats sweetened with a good measure of honey, and she did manage to eat most of it. He took a seat at the table in the center of the room. When she finished, he took the cup and cleaned it.

  “Evangeline,” he said, “do you remember when your last moon cycle came? Was it recent or a span of time ago?”

  Wryth’s words seeped past the barricade she had erected around her heart. “What? Why do you ask that, Father?”

  “I must know the state of your condition,” he said.

  “My condition, my condition,” she knew Wryth wanted to know if there was a chance she carried Hawk’s child. The idea that she might struck with remarkable clarity, and she calculated the number of days in her head.

  Father Wryth sat back down at the table. “Aye, your condition,” he said.

  “After one night, Father, that is hardly likely. Besides, you need not fear. My last cycle was normal.” She hoped her answer was steady and firm enough that he would not question her more. She didn’t lie. Her last cycle was normal—more than fifty days past.

  “You are quite certain.”

  She rested on an elbow and looked at him. “I am certain, Father.”

  “If you are truly certain, I can absolve you from sin and destroy the marriage agreement between you and Hawk. We can burn it as though nothing happened. You can continue as before with no stigma.”

  She sighed and slumped back on the bed. “Stigma, is it? You mean it won’t show on my skin that Hawk bedded me.” She gritted her teeth. “Burn it,” she spat. “Shred it. Trample it into the mud. I make no claim upon him.”

  “You are angry now and with a perfect right, but before you swear to those words, Evangeline, hear me out. There is a little known law...”

  “How may I convince you?” she interrupted.

  “I don’t seek proof, girl. I’ll accept what you tell me, but I must make sure you have all facts at your disposal. Please allow me to continue.”

  “I will hear you.”

  “If you did conceive a child of the future King of Ascalla, that child has certain entitlements. If you deny conception took place the night you spent with Prince Hawk, you disinherit the child. Ascallan law allows for an event such as the birth of the child of a royal without benefit of marriage. You, on the other hand, have a marriage contract signed by Hawk and witnessed by me. You need provide no other proof.”

  “How do you know about this law? I have read nothing in all the teachings.”

  “Aye, girl, you are learned and quite right. The official documents are not readily available. But the law exists, and the reason I know is that King Ian wrote it at my request.”

  She eyed him with a quizzical expression. “I don’t doubt you, Father, but why did King Ian agree to a law like that? It makes the royals vulnerable to claims of parentage by any who might make them.”

  He nodded. “Indeed true, and the very reason you did not hear about it until now.”

  She sat up and took a place across from him at the table. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Wryth ran a hand over his head. “Evangeline, if I
tell you, I reveal not one confidence but two. I must swear you to secrecy.”

  “She nodded, “My word is good.”

  “Very well,” he was silent for a moment trying to think how to begin. No good way to tell it, he supposed, except straight out. “Ian Hawk’s and I composed the law and forced the council to pass it because of my sister.”

  “Your sister? I didn’t know you had a sister. Where is she?”

  “Please,” he said. “Talking about it is difficult enough. Let me get it out.”

  She reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m sorry, Father. Please go on.”

  Her touch startled him. Seldom did he experience physical contact with another, and he didn’t know whether to remove his hand or leave it. He was almost sorry when she realized her action disturbed him and withdrew it on her own.

  “Before Ian was king, he befriended my sister and I. They grew close,” he noted Evan’s raised eyebrow but didn’t give her a chance to respond. “They fell in love and wanted to marry, but like the situation with you and Hawk, Ian’s father insisted he marry another. They ran away. When I caught up to them, I discovered my sister was with child. There is more to what passed between them, but the reason for the law is that Ian returned to Ascalla and honored his betrothal. I came back as well. After his coronation, I approached him about my sister and together we drafted the law to protect her child if the need ever arose.”

  “Oh, Father, what can I say? Part of me is astounded that King Ian loved another woman. The other part is so angry with him for deserting your sister that I can hardly speak. Such utter arrogance. And your dear sister, he left her, just like that.”

  “He did what he had to do, Evangeline. It cost him his heart. As for arrogance, perhaps, but I never doubted that he loved Selene,” Wryth took a breath. “Now you know how the law came to pass and why I ask that you never repeat what you know.”

  “Is she well, and the child?”

  There was her hand again, seeking his, and this time he took hers with no hint of discomfort. “Aye, when last I heard, both fared well.”

  “And that is why you ask if I am with child?”

  He nodded, “Yes, if you are with child, I should file your marriage document in the book of records. The council will turn it aside and stand upon the betrothal.”

  “Not that it matters, but I fail to see a difference, Father.”

  “A distinct difference exists, my dear. The rights of such a child would never be in question.”

  “Not a bastard child?”

  “I am afraid the babe would still be illegitimate, but you see, without the document, the council would name you publicly, question your morality and require Hawk’s acknowledgement. Please Evangeline, if you suspect you are with child, I must know.”

  “Nay, though it pained him to leave my sister, King Ian chose to obey his father.”

  She sighed audibly and took her time fostering a response. “To my knowledge, Father, I’m not with child, nor do I claim Hawk’s name or any land holding.

  He wondered if she had created the loophole on purpose. Three words, to my knowledge, left a door open. “I take your word, Evangeline. We can destroy the document as though it never existed, and I will absolve your sin.”

  When he went outside to retrieve the document from his pack, she poured water into a basin, and splashed her face. Her hair hung at crazy angles, the curls limp, without luster. She gathered it at the nape of her neck and tied it with a strip of rawhide. She heard his words echoing in her head, ‘absolve your sin,’ her sin indeed. How could an innocent faithful action result in sin? How dare anyone suggest that the sin was hers? What about Hawk, his part in sin, she wondered? What about the sin Ian Hawkins committed? Did he receive absolution?

  As soon as he came back into the cottage, Wryth recognized the change in her demeanor. A determined expression marked her features. The set of her chin was strong, resolute. She moved about the cottage straightening away days of clutter. When she knelt to wash Chinera’s paw, the action pleased him. He was witness to her return to life, an easier transition than he imagined. God must smile upon the girl. Something about her bespoke pride and spirit. Ian might have done well with Evangeline as a bride for his son. She would have tamed him and made of him a noble sovereign.

  “I mean only well for you, Evangeline.

  “Ah, Father. Thank you for all your care of me today. I needed a lesson, and you have seen to it.” She smiled and her eyes were bright once more. “But I have one more favor from you. Will you give me the document? I wish to be alone to destroy it.”

  Wryth knew his duty. Burn the marriage contract and scatter the ashes, but the girl had relinquished something precious by her own will. What did his witness matter? He handed over the rolled pages. Even if she kept them, without official recognition, the marriage did not exist.

  Her slender fingers curled around them. “Thank you, Father,” she said, “and now your prayers for my soul.”

  12 - The Lady of Baline

  Father Wryth lingered most of the day with Evangeline. He tended the horses, shoveled the stall, spread new straw and loaded the peat box from a pile of cut blocks stacked outside the cottage.

  “Have you a bathing tub?” Wryth asked. He had perched atop the stoop, watching Evan curry Tommy.

  “Aye,” she said. “Hawk had one brought from Falmora just last week.” She made a face. “A beastly huge thing, it’s behind the cottage.” She didn’t want to think about the tub because that made her think about Hawk. She gathered a few strands of the horse’s mane and began to braid them. “Besides, a bathing tub is a luxury for the rich. This one is far too grand for the cottage and with winter coming, it’s a useless extravagance.”

  Wryth started to laugh. “You, Miss Evangeline, are a practical young woman. Very well, if you would rather use a basin and pitcher, far be it from the likes of a mere man of the cloth to insist we fill the tub that you might have a proper wash.”

  Evan finished the end of the braid and tied it with a strip of linen. She took up three more strands of Tommy’s mane. “I didn’t say I preferred a bowl and pitcher, only that when winter comes, the tub will be useless.”

  “I stand corrected.” He chewed the stem of his pipe in a thoughtful manner. “Mhmm, mhmm,” he mumbled. “Then I suppose, if you found the thing filled with hot water, you might be tempted to indulge in,” he cleared his throat, “in the extravagance of a full bath.”

  She caught the twinkle of merriment in his eye. “Granny Stone did not raise an ignorant child, sir,” she said.

  “Then perhaps you will allow me to draw and heat water enough to fill the monstrosity.”

  Still intent on Tommy’s mane, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Were I to come upon the tub, filled and steaming, I’d find the urge for bathing quite irresistible. But do you think, Father, that a discussion on the topic of my bath is proper?” The hint of a smile played across her full lips.

  “Aye, improper indeed, and so we shall desist at once.” He looked around for a yoke and buckets.

  The tub was extravagant, big enough for two, and the artisanship as good as any Wryth had come across in the best city bathhouses. After several trips to the well, and a couple of hot kettles poured in with the cold, the bathing tub sent billows of steam into the chilly October air. He spoke no more of bathing, just gave her a nod, claimed a fishing pole from the lean-to and made his way across the clearing to the stream. Tommy followed, nickering softly. Must be the fishing pole, he decided. The stallion probably followed Evan the same way.

  Wryth plucked a few apples from a tree in the yard and dropped them into the pocket of his cassock. Near the stream, he lifted a fallen log and revealed a supply of fat grubs. He baited the hook with a juicy wriggler, dropped it into the water and sat on the bank to wait. Tommy snorted and blew hot breath down his neck until he produced one of the apples from his pocket. The horse plucked it neatly from his outstretched palm and contented munching sounds f
ollowed.

  Wryth lifted the pole and let the grub fall back into the water. He watched the widening circles that rippled across the surface. In the clear water, he saw a large fish swim past the grub. He jiggled the pole until the fish took the bait. One hard jerk flipped it onto the bank where Tommy came to examine the catch. When it moved, the horse jumped back, snorting. Not a bad life, Wryth chuckled. Live in a small cottage. Spend the days fishing for his supper. If Ian Hawks sent him packing, he might just abandon his calling—what was he thinking? He uttered a quick prayer and baited the hook with a fresh grub.

  Delaying a confrontation with King Ian might have something to do with his reluctance to leave Evan’s cottage. Admittedly, he expected severe consequences, but avoidance did not represent the major reason. Thoughts of Selene mingled with images of the night he had performed the marriage rite for Evan and Hawk turned his feelings tender, and made him want to protect the girl. It pleased him to think of her sinking into that hot tub, and not in any manner the might be construed as the least improper. She deserved a bit of pampering.

  By the time he managed to catch enough fish for a meal, the stallion had coaxed the last apple from him, turned tail and headed back to the cottage. Wryth shouldered the pole and followed. Tommy broke through the trees, spied Evan and trotted toward her for whatever treat she had in her pocket.

  “I gave your horse a bag of oats,” she said when Wryth approached. She had washed her dark hair, and damp ringlets framed her face. Her skin still looked pale. Sooty shadows beneath her eyes bore witness to the last weeks of turmoil, but the color was back in her cheeks. She wore a clean chemise and black corset. A long skirt, made of brown wool, flowed over her full hips.

  “Oh, you’ve made a good catch. I’m so hungry. Let’s cook them outside.” She took the fish to clean. “Will you build a fire for us, Father? We shall have a feast and still get you to Falmora before dark.”