by M. C. Elam
Wryth recognized his dismissal, but her nature made the remark seem casual, not at all, as though she meant for him to go. He admired Evan, respected her ability. Beneath the mask of sweet obedience, she planned her own agenda. About that, he was sure. Evan would survive. He need not have worried. He offered a blessing over the meal they shared, and when they finished, he mounted his horse and turned for Falmora.
***
Evan watched until Father Wryth disappeared. She touched her belly and accepted what lay just beneath her open palm. She must leave here soon, before anyone knew.
“No one will ever question your parentage, my baby. Your father brings ill upon us, little one. He did not mean to cause us harm. But you are mine to protect, and I love you well.”
Later, when the first sliver of a new moon appeared in the night sky above Pandera’s Forest, she took the marriage document from beneath a folded blanket on the end of her bed. She tried to remember the way Hawk looked, the tilt of his chin, the depth of color in his dark eyes. His touch the night before he rode away and the sound of his voice when he whispered love words brought clear images of shared passion. How could she dismiss her tender lover, her husband, by burning the document that united them?
Now a more important reason grew inside her. If she carried-out the promise to Father Wryth, her child lost unquestioned proof of inherent birthrights and claims. The decision didn’t belong to her, not to her, or Father Wryth, or Hawk. Any decision or claim against Ascalla, belonged to the baby she carried. She folded the thin parchment into a tight little square, wrapped it in a strip of soft linen that she tore from the hem of her chemise and went into the clearing. She crossed the yard and knelt beside the well. Feeling her way around the edge of the raised stone base that supported the bucket lift she located a loose stone. She worked the stone free, poked her hand through the hole into the space beyond and lifted a cover stone that hid another opening. Anything small enough to fit inside would stay dry and protected from the elements. She had made the secret place weeks ago, without any real intent for using it.
The idea that her meager possessions might tempt a thief bordered on ludicrous. Still, the first night she spent alone in the cottage brought the plan into her dreams, and the next morning, driven by the memory of what came in sleep, she had started work on the space between the stones. Skinned knuckles that bled, and calluses that made Hawk wonder what she’d done to cause them, mattered little. Driven to finish, she spent every free minute on the project. Now, as she pushed the documents into the opening, the dream seemed like a guide. She stood and brushed a bit of soil from her hands before going inside.
***
In the days that followed, Evan stayed close to the cottage. She did not want to attract attention by leaving too soon and suspected Father Wryth might come back to check on her. Wryth did return on the third day, but he was not alone. Tommy’s nervous nicker and Chinera’s deep growl warned Evan someone approached long before they broke through the trees and entered the clearing. As soon as she saw the lead horse, she shooed Chinera inside the cottage and closed the door. King Ian headed a group of six riders. Father Wryth rode beside him. Marcus and three other Knights of the Royal Guard brought up the rear.
Surprise marked Evan’s expression. What should she do? Take a knee, or make an informal greeting? She didn’t want an encounter with him now or ever, not after the last time. Hadn’t he made his position perfectly clear? She took a breath and walked toward them.
“Majesty, welcome to my home. How may I serve you?” She tried to make her voice sound bright and cheery.
King Ian offered his hand; she took it noting the deformity in the joints that marked his disease. Would the same condition plague Hawk and one day her baby? She dashed the thought away.
“Evangeline, I seek audience with you.”
“Of course, Sire, will you come inside? My home is humble, but I bid you welcome.”
“Aye, my girl, I accept your gracious welcome.”
He started to dismount and failed to swing his leg across the saddle.
“Blasted joints, Marcus get me down,” he shouted.
How terrible for him, Evan thought. She wondered that she felt compassion for the man who, with the wave of his hand, shattered her world. Not him, she reminded herself. It was Hawk. Hawk, who never heeded warnings or obeyed protocol, Hawk whom she fervently wished God would take from her heart. Hawk, whom she wished she could stop loving, brought the current state upon all of them. Evan stepped back and lowered her eyes.
Marcus dismounted, delivered a pat to Baron’s rump that sent him ambling toward the hayrack. He motioned for another of the knights, and together, they lifted the King of Ascalla from his horse. The knight retreated, but Marcus remained. King Ian took a tentative step and stumbled.
“Your shoulder, man,” he said.
Marcus clamped a strong arm around the king’s waist, and they followed Evan inside.
Too late, Evan remembered Chinera, shut inside the cottage. The huge wolf came to her feet, teeth bared. The hair on her neck stood out, and a thick furry ridge extended the length or her spine. The low growl stopped Marcus just inside the door. Chinera pushed in front of Evan, ready to spring.
“Whore’s britches, Marcus, draw your sword, man.”
“Oh, no, Majesty!”
Evan’s arms came around Chinera’s neck.
“Chinera only means to protect me. I am sorry for the fright she gave you. I quite forgot I shut her inside when you arrived.”
“Aye, I be privy to the way of the wolf, sire,” said Marcus. “Chinera guards Evan.”
“Chinera, stand easy girl. All is well. Milord the King honors us with a visit.”
The wolf’s stance eased, and she stopped growling. Evan gave the slightest push on her hindquarters and she sat.
“There, Majesty, Chinera will not harm you.”
Ian remembered seeing the wolf beside Evan. Trusting a wolf seemed unwise, but the animal did seem obedient, and Knight Marcus gave assurance. Ian expected he would not soon forget today, twice humbled in front of a mere girl, once when he could not dismount and now with the wolf. How would she take to serious matters when he presented such an absurd picture? He found his balance and eased away from Marcus toward the wolf. He offered the back of his hand.
The wolf eyed Evan.
“Go ahead, Chinera. All is well.”
Chinera extended her muzzle, scented the new human and then brushed against his hand.
A grimace crept across his lips.
“I am sorry, milord, she only wants you to stroke her ears.”
“And so I shall.”
Evan offered King Ian a chair at the table and readily he sat. Chinera approached and rested her head on his knee.
“Come, Chinera, come away now.”
“Leave her, Evangeline. I grow accustomed to her.”
However, Chinera had already responded to Evan’s command and found a place across the room.
“Marcus, fetch Wryth. He must attend my talk as witness.”
Evan wondered why King Ian needed a witness. Did he expect that she would misrepresent their talk? She sighed.
When Father Wryth came inside, she felt an anxious twinge. Wryth’s expression seemed easy enough, but she sensed tension. He sat without being invited which seemed to her like proof of friendship between the men. She stood some feet away, feeling stiff and formal.
“Evangeline, will you sit with us? I bear news to lighten past events,” said King Ian.
Evan couldn’t help but remember the last time he invited her to sit in his presence.
“Forgive me, milord, may I stand? I am not certain of my place just now and do not want to fidget in your presence.”
He nodded. “As you wish. First, may I say, I regret past days and the hurt you suffer by my hand. Father Wryth assures me you understand my position and the necessity of Hawk’s betrothal. The marriage will unite Ascalla and Glynmora.”
Must he tell her
again? She understood the alliance he sought. How could such a small room grow so bloody cold with a fire glowing on the hearth? What was that hum in her head, buried somewhere near the base of her neck? It made an ache she could not describe. Why did the shadows seem to hold something ominous in every corner? What made her stomach turn and threaten to spill its contents into her mouth? The gag reflex surfaced, and a sour taste hit the back of her tongue. She clenched her fists and swallowed hard. No, not now, not with both of them watching. But they weren’t watching her at all. Wryth toyed with his beads and the cross at the end of them. She knew the king spoke to her, but he did not turn his face in her direction.
“My dear Evangeline, are you listening to me?” he said.
He did look at her now, and she tried to focus her attention.
“Of course, Majesty.”
“In recognition of your loyalty to me and to Ascalla, I bestow upon you the noble title of Lady of Baline. I so name you because I believe you were born there and fell victim to the heinous circumstance that befell the village. My sympathies lie with you and my gratitude as well. Your sacrifice saves Ascalla from a dreadful scandal that might have cost the realm a much-needed alliance with Glynmora. I know all that transpired between you and Father Wryth. The title of Lady of Baline suits you well. I know you will bear it with honor. You are a credit to Ascalla, and a credit to all women.”
His voice droned on. She wondered if he had practiced the speech in front of a mirror. She made a mental picture of him in his fine robe, buying her off with his words.
“In addition,” he said, “I have allotted a large plot of land to you, which places the area of the village, the surrounding fields and forest to the mountains’ edge in your care. A plot of rich farmland I deeded in your name.”
“Why?”
“Girl?”
She backed further away, and Chinera rose to follow.
“May I speak freely, Majesty?”
“Indeed, please do.”
“I fear my words will not please you.”
“Nevertheless, do so, and let us not stand on formality.”
“I am not so easily purchased. A title? Of what use to me, is a title? Lands that lay barren because all fear to dwell there. Baline must surely be my home, but I know naught about the place, not my surname or parentage. No one buys my silence, if that is what you think to do. I withdraw from Hawk for the sake of Ascalla, not for you and not for Hawk. Take away your offer, milord. I do not want your charity.”
“You are correct, Evangeline. I like not your words or your tone. Still, I know what brings them forth. Say all that you want today, but when we conclude our business, the forbearance on my part for such address ends. You will show me the respect my position demands. Accept the gifts I bring or not, as you choose. Your denial of my decree changes nothing. The lands and the title are yours, not to buy your silence, but because I wish to make amends for your suffering. I cannot speak to your desire for a surname.”
“You cannot amend your conscience at my expense. I regret my words to you, but I must speak my heart or lose my honor. To accept anything from you now belittles my love for your son. And never doubt I love him deeply. I shall not disturb the political structure of Ascalla. You need not concern yourself. But my future silence comes from loyalty to Ascalla, not to you.”
Ian struggled to his feet and held on to the edge of the table to check his balance.
“You said she would deny anything I might offer, Wryth. I see now you are correct.”
He turned to Evan. “I must demand you return the marriage document Father Wryth left behind. I will see that it is destroyed, and we can put an end to more unpleasant encounters.”
She knew she must not answer. Her anger bore a level near madness, and her tongue ached to lash him. Instead, she knelt beside the hearth, scooped a handful of ash from the cool outer edge and held the gray, powdery substance out to him.
“Here is all that remains of that night. Here is the document you desire.”
He stared at her in silence until she turned her hand, spilled the ashes onto the floor, and with the toe of her shoe, ground them into a wide crack between the planks.
“Wryth will see you get the pearl, and the formal documents of title and deed.”
He turned toward the door and swung it open. Marcus appeared and offered his arm. Ian waved him aside. He looked at the girl standing in the ray of sunlight that fell through the opening. The white wolf leaned against her thigh. Meager surroundings did not diminish the pride and strength behind those eyes. Magnificent, he thought. No other word described her presence.
“I honor you, Evan. Never doubt that,” he said.
Leaning heavily on Marcus’s arm he withdrew. Father Wryth followed. Evan could see the three of them talking together a little way off from the knights, and then Marcus helped him into the saddle. The party formed, and King Ian turned his horse away from the little cottage at the edge of Pandera’s Forest.
“Wryth, ride beside me,” he called.
“Sire, I am here.”
They rode a distance ahead of the knights.
“That girl carries my grandchild,” said King Ian.
“She swore her moon cycle did not change.”
“Sworn to or not, she carries a child.”
‘What will you do, Sire?”
“Nothing, old friend. I can do nothing but sorrow for the loss.”
***
In the next days, a false calm settled over Evan. When Wryth failed to return, she forgot about the king’s declaration to see that she got the pearl, the documents proclaiming her title and the special land rights. For all she knew he had changed his mind. Chinera remained her constant companion. The wolf’s once strong body showed signs of age that Evan did not want to recognize, and her injured paw healed slowly. Evan prepared a soothing balm from the crushed shoots of a fleshy plant that grew in Pandera’s Forest and massaged the mixture into the delicate webbing between her toes. Chinera liked the attention, and once she understood what Evan wanted, presented her paw. Finally, the scabby patches flaked away, and she stopped limping.
Convinced Chinera could travel without discomfort, Evan was preparing to leave the morning Marcus appeared in the clearing. The cottage door stood wide open to let in the sunlight while she worked. A travel pack lay on the floor and she moved back and forth around the room gathering items for a journey. She had just folded three large furs that would serve as her bed on the trail and turned to add them to the items in the pack when she sensed human presence. She looked toward the door, startled.
“Marcus?”
“Aye, Lady Evan, I be here to offer me service,” he said.
“Marcus,” she said. “I am so glad for your visit. I expected Father Wryth, but I am glad to see you instead.”
“Aye, girl, I be glad for the sight of you, too. The king sends me true enough, but I’ll not be going back.”
“Why? He hasn’t turned you out of the guard has he?”
“Nay, he honors my wish. I be your man now, Lady Evan.”
He drew his sword, took a knee and held it out to her with both hands.
“Marcus, what are you doing?”
“My sword for your protection and honor, Lady Evan.”
“Oh, Marcus, you do me such great honor, but never kneel to me. You are my friend, not my servant. Put your sword away.”
Evan linked her arm through his and tugged until he stood up. She urged him inside and poured a tankard of cool water.
“Thanks to you, Lady Evan.”
“I am just Evan, Marcus.”
“You be the Lady of Baline.”
“I,” she said, “be Grams wee Evan.”
She knew he smiled behind the mask.
“Aye, glad she would be of that.”
He eyed the tankard and took it into his hands turning it round and round as they talked.
“Why did the king call you to come?”
“The whole thing be strange, La
dy Evan, purely strange at the first. Called me in just when I be fixed on asking to be relieved of me duties. I come fast as I could and, there be Father Wryth, big as you please, sitting right next to him at that long table where the nobles sit. King Ian he told me to sit, and sit I did. Then he poured me up a drought of ale, and took one for himself and one for Wryth. Ale, mind you, common soldiers drink, none of that fancy wine.”
He took a drink from the tankard and caught the water that escaped down his chin with the back of his hand. Evan glimpsed his split lip and pretended not to see.
“What happened next,” she asked.
“He bid me drink up. Miss Evan, I purely did not want a taste of that ale. I feared spilling the lot of it down my front, like the water.”
He looked at her over the top of the linen cloth tied behind his head to conceal his mouth, and her heart went out to him. Comforting words would deepen his embarrassment, and so she only patted his arm. He took hold of her hand with both of his large meaty fists.
“Next thing I knew, Father Wryth told me he married you up with Prince Hawk. My wee Evan married up with Prince Hawk. Struck dumb straight out, I be, staring back at him like I didn’t have no sense in my head. Then he went on and on about how the prince had got betrothed first, and your wedding be no wedding. He told how you burnt up the decree like it never happened.”
“Yes, all of that is true, Marcus. I am so sorry I didn’t seek your council. I am sure you would have talked against the marriage.”
“True I would. The likes of a prince and my little Evan, couldn’t be no happy ground in that.”
“Not enough that we love each other?”
“Nay, Evan, no matter how much love be in you. A prince is a prince and you…”
His voice trailed away.
“And I am common born.”
He nodded.
“What did they want from you, then?”
Marcus reached inside his leather vest and produced a parchment.
“King Ian sent this and something more. He bid me give you the words first.”
“Do you know what is in the document?”
“Aye, read it to me, he did. The words call you Lady of Baline and give land to your care.”