Duty: a novel of Rhynan

by Rachel Rossano

  “About five hundred last I knew.”

  “With my three hundred, we will have twelve hundred. What about Avenhege? He should be on the road here as we speak, answering the call to pay honor to my arrival, right?”

  “Only if he answered Jorndar’s summons. Avenhege’s holdings can only be reached in three days if one rides hard.”

  Irvaine’s head snapped up. “Jorndar summoned you?”

  “Four days ago a messenger reached my gates demanding I appear at Kyrenton Vargar to do my duty to my liege lord. I learned after I arrived that Jorndar sent messengers to each of us. He was attempting to claim right of inheritance based on Rolendis’ widow’s rights.”

  “She has no rights. Mendal removed the title from the line and heirs of Kolbent Briaren in light of his loyalties.”

  “Jorndar didn’t count on Rathenridge knowing you personally or your arrival so soon after your marriage. I believe he hoped you would linger in your new wife’s arms longer before venturing to claim more.”

  Irvaine looked over at me. His expression lightened slightly. “As diverting as my wife is, she expects to be fed. Lord Wisten handed over a starving village as a show of loyalty.”

  “A shabby gesture.”

  Irvaine pushed away from the table to pace. “It indicated the true value of his allegiance. He led the invaders across the border.”

  Landry swore. “Sorry, my lady, please pardon my rough tongue.” He bowed to Irvaine. “When do we march?”

  “Summon your men and ask them to meet us west of Wisenvale. We will not wait for them.”

  “I shall do so immediately.” He strode for the door, pausing just before it to bow to Irvaine. “My lord.” Then to my utter astonishment, he bowed low to me. “My lady, I hope we free your people soon.”

  “Thank you, Sir Landry.”

  He left. Silence settled over the pair of us. My thoughts and prayers strayed to Loren.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I jumped at the sound of his voice, so loud in the small room.

  Irvaine stood before me, a tower of familiarity in my drastically changing world. How had he become so important to me so quickly?

  “I was just trying to figure out how you were going to manage three hundred men when you only have half that with you.”

  “You forgot the caravan.”

  I blinked at him in confusion.

  “The rest of my men are coming with the caravan of supply wagons.” He rubbed his face distractedly.

  “I am not ready for this.”

  His soft chuckle brought my chin up. “Those very words circle my thoughts twice an hour, sometimes more.”

  “How do you quiet them?”

  “I ignore them. I was put in this position for a purpose. I plan on doing the best I can under the circumstances.” He offered me a hand. “Come, this is no place to eat. Let us wait for Aiden and Antano in the hall.”

  We met our meal in the passage. The servant women who carried it led us back to the great hall. They settled us at one end of the head table. Mutton, pork, and a rack of lamb roasted to perfection lay on a bed of cabbage. Beet leaves, carrots, and a selection of dried apples accompanied a fresh loaf of bread still warm to the touch. My mouth watered at the smell.

  We set to work on the bounty. But before I managed more than a handful of bites, the outer doors burst open.

  Five men tromped in the room. Rathenridge led them up the center of the room. I spotted Antano near the back. Two hefty men pulled a resisting Jorndar to the foot of the dais.

  “Kneel!” Rathenridge commanded.

  Jorndar spat at him.

  Antano kicked the prisoner’s legs out from under him. “Show proper respect to your superior, fool.”

  Yelling curses, Jorndar attempted to gain his footing again, but the two men restraining his arms kept him on his knees. After a few moments of struggling, the guards simply pinned him to the floor, face down.

  “Sir Jorndar, you are accused of sedition against the crown. How do you plead?”

  “How do you think, idiot? Not guilty. You shame the house of Loineir and Irvaine. Your mother should have smothered you at birth. I demand my right to plead my case before the king. I refuse to accept any ruling you hand down, pretender. You hold no law over me.”

  A twitch in the muscle below Irvaine’s left eye was the only indication he heard Jorndar’s rant. He stood frozen in his effort to contain the anger burning behind his dark eyes. His left hand clenched his eating knife in a death grip.

  Dissatisfied with the reaction of his target, Jorndar changed his tactic. Straining his head around so that he could just see me out of the corner of his eye, he grinned crookedly. “How does it feel to be bedded by the son of a demon and a witch? Didn’t know his mother was a witch did you? Watch him. He will remove your soul and feed it to his master. He is well versed in the ways of--”

  Irvaine lunged forward.

  I caught his arm, throwing my weight against his momentum. “No.” My intervention spun him around so I encountered the full blast of the fury behind his mask. He trembled with the effort, but he didn’t turn back toward his tormentor.

  Rathenridge unceremoniously laid his foot over Jorndar’s face. The man’s ranting dissolved into a wordless yowl.

  I reached up to caress my husband’s face, anything to distract him from the liar on the floor. “Whatever you want to do to him, you will regret it later.” Thankfully it helped. He focused on my features.

  He closed his eyes, breathed in, and held it. He rested his forehead against mine. His hands encircled my head, thumbs resting on my cheekbones and fingers buried in my hair, destroying the remains of my braid.

  Antano spoke. “I request permission to throw him into the dungeon, my lord.”

  Without opening his eyes, Irvaine replied. “See that you treat him humanely.”

  “My lord?” Antano’s protest filled every tone of his query.

  “Give the king no reason to doubt my character, Antano.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Irvaine waited until only Jorndar’s protests faded to a distant murmur. “Thank you.” His dark eyes, still glinting with rage, seemed to soften as they met mine, warming to a different emotion.

  “Not a bother,” Rathenridge replied, throwing himself into the nearest chair and helping himself to some of the mutton. “Just make sure that the next villain you send me out after has a cleaner mouth. I have never heard so much talk about refuse since I last ordered my men to dig privies.”

  Irvaine smirked. He gently released my head and retreated before turning to face his friend. “I appreciate your longsuffering service, Aiden.”

  “I haven’t even sworn allegiance to you and you are demanding I track down a pompous fool and his foul-mouthed minions.”

  “Lord Jorndar is not a fool. He is not wise, but never mistake him for a fool.” Irvaine pulled out my chair for me as we resumed our places at the table. “How many of his men did you detain?”

  “Seven. Three discontented striplings, a middle-aged weakling, and three ancients too old for the saddle. I wonder at his choices for traveling companions.”

  Irvaine pushed away his unfinished meal. “I am more concerned about where his prime warriors are at the moment. If they aren’t with him, he has them otherwise occupied.”

  “Terrorizing the countryside and collecting rents?”

  “More likely serving a new liege lord.” Irvaine rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. “Did you find the records?”

  “We confiscated a crateful of ledgers, rosters, and lists. If they aren’t the missing records, I would be very interested in what they are.” Rathenridge rose abruptly to his feet and plucked an apple from the middle of the platter. “If you don’t need me further, my lord, I wish to seek out my wife. I need sweet conversation to distract my thoughts from the mire of Jorndar’s ravings.”

  “First, send word for all your able-bodied men to meet us at Wisenvale. We will be riding out tomorrow.”

>   “They will be there.”

  “Where did they put the records?”

  “Delivered to your new study, my lord.” Rathenridge offered a jaunty bow. “Ready and waiting for your perusal.”

  “Then, be off. Say hi to Moriah.” Irvaine dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

  I waited to speak until the door blocked my view of Rathenridge’s loping gait. “How long have you known him?”

  “Aiden?” Irvaine glanced my way, but didn’t truly focus on my face before returning to his thoughts. “Twenty years.”

  “Since childhood?”

  “Hmm…” He nodded absentmindedly.

  “You think Lord Jorndar is connected with the invasion, don’t you?”

  He nodded again. Leaning his forehead on his fisted hands, he closed his eyes. “I think the root of this invasion runs deeper than we suspect. I am going to have to get word to Dentin and the king.”

  “Who is Dentin?”

  “He is the commander of the royal guards and general of the garrison. He also keeps tabs on everyone’s whereabouts and loyalties.”

  “He sounds like the man to know.”

  “He is. Giving him the task of security of the realm was the best move Mendal made.”

  I studied my husband with new eyes. “You are an intimate of the new king.”

  He eyed me over his clasped hands. “You just figured that out? I thought the world knew.”

  “Remember where you found me? We didn’t even know the war was over, much less we were subjects of a new king.”

  The left corner of his mouth lifted slightly and a glimmer of amusement flashed in his eyes before worry clouded them again. “Someday I will fill you in on all the details.” He leaned back with a groan. “Right now a crate worth of documents awaits us. I hope your recordkeeping skills are as good as you claim. It is going to be a really long afternoon.”

  I pushed back my chair. “Then we should get to work.”

  Irvaine signaled a servant. After requesting a second chair be brought to the study, he offered me his arm.

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Chapter Eleven

  A bathtub! I stared in wonder at the luxury. Not a quick wipe down with tepid water from a bowl before the fire. The metal tub came to my hips and steamed even in the radiating warmth from the hearth. My aching joints and muscles called out in a chorus of joyful anticipation.

  “Where is my tunic, Jarvin?” Irvaine shoved the bedroom door closed and promptly began undoing his armor.

  My face burned as I hurriedly looked away.

  “I laid out the best for you to choose from.”

  “They brought the bath. Good.”

  “The pitcher and basin you requested came too, my lord. Lady Rolendis sent gowns and soap for Lady Irvaine. She also included some of her husband’s personal effects so that you might use whatever you wish.”

  “Come and choose what you wish to wear, Brielle.” Irvaine’s order was punctuated by the clunk of his chainmail hitting the floor. I turned in time to see him pull his tunic over his head with his back to me. Scars crisscrossed his shoulders, faded with age, but deep enough to never heal completely. A gash across the back of his left ribs spanned the length of my forearm. A third, more recent, scar cut an angry crescent around his right shoulder blade. Despite the obviously whole muscles moving beneath the marred skin, I shivered to think of the events that had scarred him.

  A mixture of fear, nerves, and pity churned in my belly. The indelible markers branded forever across his back spoke of a man who had fought his way through life. I tried to reconcile them with what I had witnessed of his character over the last few days.

  The rough, calloused hands that rubbed warmth into my fingers were also hands that weilded a blade with skill and deadly finesse. They were the hands of a father. I tried to envision them cradling a child.

  “Brielle?”

  I blinked.

  Jarvin had left. We were alone. Irvaine gazed at me quizzically. I must have missed his question.

  “Pardon? I didn’t hear you.”

  “You should choose a gown and begin washing. We have to be down in the hall in an hour or so.”

  “Yes.” I nodded, but made no move toward the silks cascading over the far side of the bed. Instead my mind wandered back to the tidbits of his past I discovered today. I could see him as a slender child with no father to protect him from the world and with a mother to defend. I wondered how he had dealt with Jorndar then.

  “Brielle?”

  “Hmm?” I pulled my thoughts together and focused with effort. Exhaustion fought back.

  “Are you going to make it through the meal?”

  I jumped at the brushing of his fingertips under my chin. When did he move? He now stood over me. The musk of his sweat filled my nose. It was laced with a scent I could not name.

  “Brielle, go to bed.” He eased my face up so our eyes met. “I can face them alone if you need the rest. I know these past few days have been difficult for you. They…” He hesitated. Raw emotion tightened his features. “None of us have had an easy time of it. I understand if you prefer to rest here instead of facing a host of strange faces.”

  After an afternoon of studying documents, consulting with the cook, and supervising the organizing and counting of supplies with Horacian’s help, I did long for bed. However, when I looked into Irvaine’s face, I hesitated.

  Dark circles and dirt ringed his eyes. New creases marred the bridge between his eyebrows. The brackets around his mouth deepened with worry as he scanned my face. Somewhere behind those searching eyes he still faced the world alone.

  “No. I can make it. I want to help.”

  “I have Rathenridge.”

  “You need me to show them your domestic side. I represent hope for a peaceful future.”

  He tilted his head. “Who told you that?”

  I smiled up at him, hoping to cover up the weary grief that swelled behind my words. “My mother epitomized nobility and duty.”

  “She was a wise woman.”

  I nodded and turned away. He let me go. I walked toward the tub, untying my surcoat. A few tugs at the laces and the neck opened enough for my head to slip through. My belt followed, the worn leather slipping easily through the buckle loop once I untied the excess.

  The scrape of wood on wood halted my undressing. Irvaine dragged a screen across the floor. As tall as me and six arm lengths wide, its elaboratedly painted panels blocked the tub from the rest of the room.

  He stepped back, studying the screen. “I will use the water in the bowl; you take the tub. You need it more.”

  “Are you saying I stink?”

  He smiled. It wasn’t a laugh, but it lightened the lines of his face slightly.

  “No more than I do.” He walked toward the basin of water resting on a heavy table along the wall.

  Taking that as a sign to tend to my own washing, I slipped behind the screen and began undressing in earnest.

  The bath lived up to all my expectations. I didn’t emerge from the water until my fingers resembled the walnuts my father once purchased from a foreign traveler. My muscles no longer ached and the tension in my back eased. My return to comfort brought a fresh burst of energy. Familiar hunger grew urgent now that pain no longer claimed my foremost attention.

  A midnight blue gown of soft wool hung over the screen. It slid on with ease but fit loosely through the chest and hips. An inch of the silver-trimmed hem lay on the floor. I needed a sash so I could loop it up a bit. Thankfully the fall of the material and the ties at the back allowed for adjustment from bust to hip. Though, I needed help to lace it properly. Gathering the excess skirt in one hand and my damp fall of curls in the other, I stepped from behind the screen.

  “My lord, could you–“

  My tongue stumbled to a halt at the sight of Irvaine. The hue of his dark blue tunic almost matched my gown. The soft wool fit the width of his shoulders like it had been tailored for them. The only decoration, a sim
ple silver pattern accenting the neckline, drew the eye to his face. He looked less exhausted clean-shaven as long as I didn’t look into his eyes. Weary and worn, they betrayed his anxiety about the evening ahead. However, the worry melted as he focused on me.

  My cheeks flamed beneath his approval.

  “The color suits you.” His gaze traveled my length before he stepped closer.

  “It still needs some adjustments.” I offered him my back. “Could you tighten the laces?

  He set to work fitting the waist of the gown. “Is there anything you need to know about tonight?”

  “My mother taught me how to behave at public events.”

  “Even an Earl’s table?”

  “A duke and three earls courted her before she married my father.”

  He stopped tugging. “Your parents were a love match then?” Lifting my hair from my hand, he spread it about my shoulders. The still damp curls were tightening. I didn’t have time to comb them out. I hoped he didn’t mind my mane in all of its wild glory.

  He turned me so we faced each other. Bracketing my face with his hands, he tilted it back so he could see the whole at once. Dark eyes studied my features. A shiver flicked my spine. I shuddered as his attention fell upon my mouth.

  “I am not sure how to shorten the skirt.” By sheer will I kept my voice steady.

  “Recent fashion calls for overlong skirts.” His eyes continued to examine my face. “Remember our agreement about affection in public.”

  “Yes.” I willed my gaze to meet his steadily. Warmth filled my belly despite its hunger pains. “Should I initiate occasionally?”

  The heat in his half smile made my heart rate accelerate. He opened his mouth to speak, but a tap at the door interrupted him.

  “Come.” He stepped back, suddenly aloof again.

  Jarvin opened the door and leaned inside. “They are awaiting your arrival, my lord.”

  “We are coming.” He strode over to the table where the abandoned bowl and pitcher lay. Picking up the dagger lying next to them, he placed it in its sheath before turning back to me. For the first time, I realized his sword hung from his belt.