Duty: a novel of Rhynan

by Rachel Rossano

  “What do you wish done with him until then, my lady?” Captain Eirianware asked.

  “See he gets a taste of the women’s captivity until then.”

  I caught the captain’s signal to his men out of the corner of my eye. The six converged on Brevand with surprising speed. Within a few movements, he was bound and gagged.

  I selected one of the women. “Yarni, would you be kind enough to point out the best place to store this man? We will set about making sure he can’t run until Lord Irvaine gets here.”

  Yarni nodded and led two of the men off in the direction of the nearest cottage. They dragged Brevand between them.

  I strode toward the lord’s hall, Loren in tow. Many of the women came with us. A few left to see to their children or set their homes to rights now that the invaders were gone.

  The smoke still rose from my childhood home, eroding my hope of recovering even a small measure of my family’s heirlooms. My mother’s chest full of her prized gowns, linens, and jewelry weighed the most heavily on my mind.

  The lord’s hall stood, barely. Stone walls stripped of all wooden adornment supported a blackened skeleton of beams, half broken, against a sky still marred by smoke. It wouldn’t be safe to walk through the ruins yet, but I could see that hope for recovery was slim.

  I stood as close to the doorway as I could, the heat of the recent flames still radiating from the stone, and tried to grasp the finality of the ended chapter. My favorite tangible connections to my past were gone. The special scent of my mother’s rose and lilac perfume mixing with the smell of sun-warmed linen were now only a memory consumed in the stench of scorched stone and charred wood. I could no longer bring out her perfume bottle and revel in reminiscences of her laughter, her bright eyes, or the feel of her arms around me. Only time would reveal if her jewelry escaped the blaze, but the memories entangled with the cold metal and stone were not as precious as those stolen golden moments of just Mother and me. Orwin, in his typical way, burned away the most precious of my possessions, leaving the less valuable.

  I stepped back away from the wreckage, struggling to control the mixture of anger and grief tearing through me.

  “At least the barns survived.” Loren’s out-flung hand indicated the low structures just visible through the smoke.

  I was not in the mood for counting our blessings. Still, I nodded. “Come, let us assess the rest of the damage.” I led the way off toward the nearest cottage.

  Following my lead, the women set to work, picking up debris.

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I threw my anger into my work. In a few days we cleared out five cottages, lugging out broken furniture, sweeping floors, and cleaning hearths. The women and I labored tirelessly to reclaim a small measure of the life the invaders stole. Red-gold sunlight cast a long patch of light through the western facing door of my current project when I heard someone say my name. The shadow of a woman’s head fell across the moisture-slick stones beneath my brush.

  “Brielle?”

  I pushed up onto my knees and squinted into the light. It was Anise.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning.”

  I couldn’t see her frown, but I could sense it in the tilt of her head.

  “Why?”

  “I cannot hunt down my cousin and hurt him the way he has hurt me and those I love. Durana cares for four children. One is just learning to crawl. She needs a clean floor. So, I am scrubbing it for her.”

  “I saw the lord’s hall.”

  “Then you know that nothing survived.”

  “Not completely true. Some of the men pulled out some furniture from the bedchamber. The linens didn’t escape, but some jewelry and an ornamental sword were spared.”

  I locked my jaw so my chin wouldn’t tremble. “At least it is something.” My voice quavered.

  “I am sorry.”

  Her kindness was too much. A sob escaped. Like a breached dam, the flood followed. Before I could gasp for breath, Anise was there. Strong arms and the scent of lemon surrounded me. I stopped fighting the tears and let them flow. She offered no platitudes and no excuses, just the warm assurance I wasn’t alone.

  My tears dried up at last. She offered me a clean, dry rag and moved back to give me space to use it. “We received word Tomas is on his way back.” She picked up my scrub brush and the bucket of dirty water. “He met up with King Mendal. Apparently Jorndar’s men were discovered before they could attack. Lord Dentin extracted the truth from them and they are all coming to deal with Jorndar.”

  “When will they get here?”

  “Tomorrow. Mendal travels slowly these days.”

  I puzzled over her reply, but she continued before I could ask for more details.

  “Tomas sent word that Mendal and Dentin want to meet you. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tomas has been speaking of you.”

  I would’ve been astounded if he had. If so, what had he said? I ran at the first testing of my strength and courage. Tomas wouldn’t have run.

  “We will need to find you better clothing.”

  I surveyed the ruined mess of cloth that was once a tunic, surcoat, and leggings. The formerly heather gray wool hung stiff with mud and grime and heavy with water. It was salvageable, possibly, but not in time for me to wear the next morning.

  “I have worn everything I brought. The other clothes are not as dirty as this one, but still none are fancy enough to wear before a king. I packed for the road not a court event.” I did not mention that I didn’t own anything fine enough even if I carried my whole wardrobe with me. “My wedding dress and all of my mother’s clothing burned.” Moisture flooded my eyes, but I refused to cry again. They were only things. I would learn to live without them.

  “Surely some of the villagers still have some finery. We shall see if we can find some for you to borrow.”

  I didn’t share her optimism, but I felt obligated to try for Tomas’ sake. I didn’t want to let him down again.

  Much to my surprise, the women had some treasures to share. Loren produced a dress she intended for my birthing day. Deep green wool trimmed at the neck and wrists in dark plum-colored purple, it was elegant in its simplicity. Only the hem remained unfinished, a task easily completed in the time allowed. Granny Toren produced combs for my hair, remnants from her wedding well over half a century past. Yarni offered a girdle of green wool so dark it was almost black. She had been trying for a spring green and mixed the dye wrong. We agreed that we could hide my sturdy shoes beneath the skirt of the dress.

  By the time we gathered the selection, the sun hung low in the sky and it was time for the evening meal. The village women spread a lean table, but they made sure there was some for everyone. Anise had Jarvin bring the children from the camp. Darnay avoided me, but Elise offered me a warm hug before running off to play with the girls gathering around the stacks of broken furniture. As far as I could see, they were rearranging it into pretend houses for play.

  Despite my protests that sleeping would bring my hair’s wild side out again, Anise and Loren insisted I bathe right before bed. They predicted I would sleep late and not have time for much beyond eating and dressing before meeting the king the next morning.

  “Now to see to those hands.” Anise rummaged through the satchel she brought from the camp.

  I surveyed my hands in dismay. Chapped and red from work, one of my knuckles was bleeding.

  Anise handed me a salve.

  “When you emerge from the bath, slather it on and then don’t touch anything.”

  She led me into the smallest of the newly cleaned cottages. After the scalding bath and vigorous scrub down from Anise, Loren combed the gobs of knots from my hair. I fell asleep before the fire while she twisted my damp curls into tight braids in an effort to keep them tame for the morning.

  My anxiety followed me into sleep. I dreamed of meeting the king all night. Rather, I dreamed of preparing for the meeting with the king. First my
hair fell out, then my teeth. My dress ripped. I tripped walking across the battlefield to meet them. When I finally arrived, Mendal was an ugly hag, Dentin leered like the guard outside the armory, and Tomas was nowhere to be seen. When I asked about him, Mendal waved away a fly and said, “I had him executed for treason. Now we can marry you off again.” I screamed. He laughed, and Dentin reached for his sword to run me through.

  I awoke cold and tense. Loren was shoving my shoulder.

  “You were screaming in your sleep.” She peered into my face. “Are you well?”

  My neck felt like a bowstring and my shoulders ached as though I was lifting a boulder instead of my hand. Forcing myself to my feet, I began working out the stiffness.

  “I dreamed badly. I will be fine.”

  “Good.” She smiled encouragement. “We need to get you into your dress and start on your hair. We only have a few hours before your honor guard returns for you.”

  “So soon?” I checked the window. Overcast skies blocked the sun.

  “King Mendal arrived early. His camp is growing larger than Irvaine’s. Every time we think they have raised the last tent, the crew lugs out a new bundle of canvas and starts driving stakes into the ground. At this rate we will have no untouched land to plant next spring. We will have to prepare all the fields from scratch.”

  “At least you will be planting in Ryhnan in relative freedom and not under a western baron’s oppressive eye.” I couldn’t turn my head to the left without shooting pain. I quit trying.

  “True.” She dragged a bench into the middle of the room and arranged my dress across it along with a clean chemise and the girdle.

  “Have you seen Irvaine?” I rose, taking the blanket with me, but it couldn’t shield my stocking-covered feet from the winter chill of the hearth stones. It cut through to my skin almost immediately.

  “No word from anyone about anything beyond the presentation.”

  I didn’t know enough to guess if this was normal or abnormal for wives being presented to the king for the first time. Or, it might have simply been a matter of ability. Tomas might be overwhelmed with other responsibilities. My duty was to stand alone if necessary. And stand I would.

  I dressed quickly. Loren assisted with the buttons and seeing to the fall of the girdle and skirt.

  “Lovely,” Anise proclaimed when she bustled in as we finished putting on my heavy shoes without wrinkling the skirt. “Let me see to that hair and we will make Tomas proud.”

  As I predicted, curls escaped the braids in all directions. Thankfully Anise didn’t have an elaborate style in mind. She combed and then twisted it all into a loose braid that fell to my waist like a long red cord and tied the end with a leather thong. Then she brought out my belt with my knife still attached. When she moved to put it about my hips, I stopped her.

  “Won’t it hurt the appearance we are seeking?”

  “No, quite the opposite.” She pulled the leather through the buckle, caught it on the tongue and tucked the excess into the belt so it didn’t hang down awkwardly. “You are a warrior woman from a village of strong women. You are not seeking the king’s protection as a maiden to be bargained with and sold as a political pawn. You come to the king as one who will swear an oath and stand at your husband’s side. He needs to see you can do your part to support his reign.”

  “But to carry a blade into the king’s presence?” I searched her face. To me, it seemed as though to do so would be asking to be cut down.

  “The men carry much more dangerous weapons and skills with them.” Seeing that my concern did not lessen, she offered a compromise. “Glance around, if the men are all unarmed, offer your knife as a show of fealty. The king should accept such a gesture.”

  A thump on the door ended the conversation.

  “It is time.” Anise hugged me briefly. “You will do well.”

  I didn’t share her confidence, but I smiled my thanks all the same.

  Loren’s hug lasted longer. She pulled my cloak around my shoulders. As the heavy layers settled, I was reminded of the first time Tomas threw it about me.

  I stepped out into the cold.

  “My lady.” Captain Eirianware greeted me with a bow. His six men were still with him. They all appeared well rested despite the rotating shifts they must have taken outside my door.

  “Have you spoken to Lord Irvaine?”

  Although puzzled at the question, Eirianware answered glibly enough. “Not since you have, my lady. I have heard that he arrived with the king, but other than that, I have heard nothing.”

  I nodded. It was well known where I slept. I sent word to Jarvin the first night. Anise had been back and forth from the camp to the village since Tomas’ departure. If he sought me, he would have found me.

  “So, which way are we walking?”

  Eirianware led me to the southern edge of the village. The battlefield, still a mess of mud and frozen slush, spread across the gully between the village and the southern-most fields, which were occupied by Irvaine’s camp. The banners of Rathenridge and Landry flapped in the wind beneath Irvaine’s emblem of a golden hart on a field of green.

  The king’s camp lay sprawled across the eastern-most fields. A great flag on a pole twice the height of a man marked the edge of the camp. A hawk, wings unfurled and claws spread, shown red on a field of caramel brown. Gilt highlighted the bird’s claws and crazed eyes. The sight of the banner was enough to slow my steps.

  “Where am I to present myself?” I asked Eirianware.

  “Outside the king’s pavilion. I was told we would be met at the edge of camp.”

  As he spoke, I spotted a group of men lingering beneath the crimson bird. As we approached, they fell into formation, a tall but unassuming man at their head. He was the man who stepped forward to greet us.

  “Lady Irvaine, I presume.” He bowed with the practiced air of a man who performed the movement often. As he straightened, we locked eyes.

  “Lord Dentin, I presume.”

  “Why do you assume I am he?”

  “You have the look of a man more accustomed to the background than the focus of attention. Also, you wear the colors of Dentin’s household.”

  His eyebrows rose in what I hoped was appreciation. “Tomas said you were bright, but he didn’t mention observant.”

  A burst of warmth flooded my chest. Still, I remained outwardly reserved. Tomas indicated Lord Dentin could be a valuable ally or a dangerous friend. Considering the complicated depths of my husband, I expected the same of his friends.

  “I don’t know whether to be afraid or flattered.”

  “Why?” He smiled, but his eyes narrowed.

  “The king sent the man responsible for the security of the realm to escort me to my presentation. Does he think I intend to assassinate him?”

  “You are armed.” His eyebrows rose and his eyes challenged me, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

  “It is intended to be for show. You may take it.” I offered the knife, but Dentin made no move to accept it.

  “Keep it. Tomas sent me.”

  I returned the dagger to its sheath. “Is he afraid I will assassinate the king?”

  Dentin laughed. “Hardly. He thought you would need support, a conclusion I do not share.”

  “So you are here as a friend?”

  “In part.” He offered his left arm to me.

  “The other part?” I laid my hand upon his forearm.

  “Parts, my lady. First and foremost, I am a loyal subject of the king.” He led the way through the tent city. Our men fell into formation behind us like the train of a regal gown.

  “I am as well.”

  “So, treason does not run in the family?”

  I tensed. “I am not my cousin, my lord. We are nothing alike.”

  He turned to scan my face with a care. I met his scrutiny with a steady regard. His brown eyes were pleasantly shaped. He had even features, a strong jaw, well-proportioned nose, and a pleasing smile hidden be
hind the tension of the moment. I returned my gaze to his eyes. I had nothing to hide from this man.

  “The king sent you, didn’t he?”

  He focused straight ahead. “No, he didn’t, but I wouldn’t be much of a defender of the realm if I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity allotted me.”

  “So, you are searching for an assassin?”

  “Always.”

  “How do you live in constant vigilance?”

  “Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?” He turned his head and regarded me for an instant out of the corner of his eye. “I haven’t decided whether or not to trust you yet.”

  “Why would I want to kill him?”

  “He accepted you as part of your cousin’s loyalty demonstration.”

  “My cousin sold me to save his life. I have much more reason to hate Orwin than the king.”

  “He gave you to Tomas.”

  The awarding of my life into Tomas’ hands as though I was a possession still irritated my pride, but I had to admit the truth. “Tomas has been a kind and dutiful husband, better than any I would find on my own.”

  “I think it is much more than duty that drives Tomas’ actions. He is always the dutiful man, sometimes to a fault.”

  Thinking of Rolendis and Jorndar, I had to agree. “His best attribute and his worst.”

  “Not his best. Once he loves, he loves for life.”

  Before I could ask him what he meant, we stepped into an open space among the tents and the opportunity for speaking passed. A great space spread before us. Contrasting the mud and slush underfoot, all the men awaiting us stood about in court dress.

  Gold, scarlet, and brown were the basis of every man’s clothing except for three. Tomas, Rathenridge, and Landry stood out in their house colors. It took me a moment to locate the king in the similarly dressed men. Then I realized only one man sat.

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Chapter Twenty-Two