"I thought I was to have two servants,” the Lady Merrit said to Jessa, “But so far I have only met you.”
“The other one is my friend Ev,” Jessa said. “She’s finishing up a punishment, a month of peeling potatoes in the scullery.”
“A month of punishment? That’s a long time. What did she do to receive that?”
“She tried to leave here,” Jessa said. “Her punishment for that would have been even longer, but she was burned, too. They figured the pain was the rest of her punishment.”
“Burned?”
“She hid in a laundry cart, but they dumped her into the tub with the sheets.”
“Why did she want to leave?” Lady Merrit asked.
“There’s a old witch, in her family I think. She sent for Ev.”
Lady Merrit had been casual until now. Her eyes suddenly fixed intently on Jessa’s face. “Do you know the name of the witch, as you call her?”
Jessa suddenly realized she was chattering again, and to a Widow, one that she was supposed to be serving. She could hear Sister Mattia’s voice: “A servant is silent, no more obvious than the curtains on the window.”
“I’m sorry, Lady,” she said, dropping her eyes to the tray she was about to pick up. “I talk too much.”
“But the witch, do you know her name?”
The Lady’s voice was so urgent, Jessa looked up at her again. “No, Lady, I’m sorry. You will have to ask Ev.”
“This is my friend, Ev.” Jessa pushed Ev a step closer to the bed, but the strange Lady Merrit just nodded in a friendly way.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Ev,” said Lady Merrit. Both young women waited for the question about the Healer’s name, but Lady Merrit turned back to the embroidery hoop in her hand.
Jessa paused for a moment, but couldn’t stop herself. “Did you know the Queen? Her funeral is today. Head Mother is going. I wish I could, and see all the fine people, in their clothes and jewels …”
“Jessa!” Ev hissed.
Jessa’s fair skin blushed scarlet. “I’m sorry,” she said and dropped her eyes to the floor, turning to do her work.
Chapter 40: Melisande
Melisande had to wait for a few days before the young Woman of the Land came into the room without the talkative Jessa. “Come here for a moment,” the Lady said. As she had with Jessa, she patted the edge of her bed. Ev sat where she indicated, looking uncomfortable. “I gather from Jessa that you have contact with your relatives outside?”
“My family comes to visit me sometimes.”
“Including at least one Healer.” Ev nodded. “Jessa says she’s an older woman.” Ev nodded again.
“She isn’t, by any chance, one of the Old Ones?” Melisande asked. As she expected, the young woman’s eyes widened. There was a great deal of secrecy around the Healers, and no wonder after the murdering rampage the Kings had carried out against the Orders of the People of the Land. This young servant would not expect Melisande to know anything about them, or call them anything but a witch. “You don’t need to tell me,” Melisande reassured her, “But I want to know something. Could you arrange to have a small package taken to one of the Old Ones, a Healer called Mother Peg?”
Chapter 41: Maida
A few nights after Aden’s visit Maida was packing cheese into molds in the kitchen, her hair tied up in a clean kerchief, a fresh apron protecting her dress. Liandra was sitting by the hearth sewing.
“Where did you learn to make such good cheese?” Liandra asked.
“My family are cheesemakers. I was apprenticed to my father before I …” She stopped abruptly, lifted a dipping basket of curds to her stone worksurface. The warm whey ran down its pitted grey surface and dripped into the stone sink.
Liandra’s needle had paused. She watched Maida intently. “Before you what?”
Maida looked at her for a moment, then dropped her eyes in shame. “You might as well know,” she said. “I wanted to be a Healer. I ran away, went to the Healer’s School.”
“And what did they say?” Liandra asked, but Maida had turned to look out through the kitchen window. Her eye had been caught by a single lantern approaching along the path from the West. She rinsed off her hands in the basin on the counter and wiped them on her apron.
The traveller was Aden. “Sir!” Maida exclaimed. “We weren’t expecting to see you again until it is time for the next box of food.”
“No, I was not expecting to come so soon again either.” Aden looked past Maida to Liandra, who was now on her feet, her sewing dumped in a heap beside her chair. “I have news for the Princess, news that I am loathe to deliver, your Highness.”
Liandra sobbed on and off through the night, Maida comforting her as best she could. Aden had left a small decorated box, saying it was something of Liandra’s mother’s that her father thought she might like to have. When Liandra opened it, her tear-stained face took on an expression of puzzlement. “It’s just a necklace,” she told Maida “I thought it would be her wedding ring. It’s traditional that the ring is passed to the eldest daughter.”
Chapter 42: Gleve
Gleve tenderly washed days of dirt and sweat from Keirans body. He had stoked the fire into a roaring blaze and pulled the tin bathing tub as close to the hearth as he could but Keiran still trembled. "More hot water," Gleve barked at Lynna, who stood by tending a huge pot of it set right beside the fire.
"No, stop," Father Mallory said from his chair on the other side of the hearth. "You don't want to cook the poor boy." Gleve shot the old man a worried glance. "It's not the cold that's making him shiver," Father Mallory told him.
Gleve paused in his task and studied his patient for a moment. There were tears running down Keiran's cheeks. No, not cold, upset. "Oh Keiran, what's happened to you?" he asked. When Keiran did not respond, Gleve went back to his careful washing.
It was only later, when Keiran was clean and dry, dressed in Gleve's extra nightshirt and wrapped in a blanket, with a large cup of steaming broth in his hands that he spoke through the tears he couldn't hold back. "I shouldn't have come here. I'm putting you in danger. But I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."
"No. You must always come here when you need shelter," Gleve told him, and Father Mallory nodded.
"Danger?" asked Lynna.
In bits and pieces Kerian's story came out. "You could be executed for giving me shelter," he concluded.
Father Mallory laughed. "My son, you know how far we are from anyone who would tell the constables that you are here and how much warning we get of travellers coming. All you need do is hide in the cellar under the kitchen until we know who it is that approaches our cottage. You'll be safe enough here, as will we. You are not the first person, illegal in the eyes of the King, to stay here." Gleve gave him a sharp look, but the old man gave no sign of regret at slipping out secrets.
Keiran's bed in the loft was now Lynna's, so Gleve gave his own bed to his exhausted friend. He removed the warm stones he had placed in the bed earlier to take the chill off and helped Keiran climb in under the covers. "Roll over," he instructed, "And I'll massage your back. Keiran turned to face the wall and curled up, his breathing rough from the tears that continued to bubble up from time to time. Gleve began gently to work the stiff muscles in his friend's back and shoulders.
Daylight began to peek through the cracks in the shutters. Gleve heard Father Mallory say goodnight to Lynna and close the door to the room next door. There was some rustling and bumping as the Old Man changed and climbed into bed. He heard clattering pots as Lynna cleaned up the kitchen and put the bathing tub away. Then there was some shuffling and swishing. Gleve realized she was pulling the pallet out of the storage closet, unfolding it on the floor in front of the hearth and making it up with sheets and blankets. For him, of course. That was thoughtful of her.
After Lynna's steps disappeared into the loft the cottage fell silent. Keiran's muscles were relaxing, his breathing calming into the regular rhythms of sleep. Wit
h practiced skill, Gleve slowed the movements of his hands, finally stopping so quietly that Keiran would not notice even if he was still conscious, which it seemed he wasn't. The next steps were very familiar--withdraw his hands, pull the covers up and tuck them carefully around the back of Keiran’s neck, tiptoe out of the room. But he did not do this. Instead, he carefully lifted the covers and crawled in, curling himself against Keiran's back. After a moment's pause, he slipped his arm around Keiran's waist.
He instantly regretted this action as Keiran jolted into wakefulness. The tension so carefully soothed from his back muscles returned in an instant. Gleve waited, hoping Keiran would relax again, but he didn't. Instead, he turned to face his friend. The faint light from the cracks in the shutters showed the puzzlement and caution on his handsome face. The two young men studied each other, barely breathing, for what seemed like a long time. Gleve was flooded with love for his friend and gratitude for his return. It filled him to the point of pain. He could not stop himself. He leaned forward and gently kissed Keiran on the lips. Keiran froze in surprise, his eyes flooded with confusion.
As quickly as he had filled with love, Gleve suddenly filled with panic. This was dangerous. This could not happen. It was what he had held back for all the months Keiran had lived with them while he gradually healed from his injuries.
Gleve scrambled to escape from blankets that suddenly conspired to hold him captive. Thrashing himself free he hit the floor with a thump and ran from the room, controlling himself just enough to shut the door quietly. He dived under the covers Lynna had carefully arranged on the pallet, pulling them over his head. He curled there, frozen with panic and regret.
Chapter 43: Anglewart
“And how did she take it?” King Anglewart asked Aden, his most trusted Bailiff after Ermin, who stood, as always, a wary presence by his side.
“Just as you would expect, Your Highness,” Aden said, “Consumed by grief.”
The King nodded. “As we all are,” he said. Aden never removed his eyes from the floor in front of his feet. Was he genuinely sad for the loss of his Queen and the grief of her daughter? Melisande was popular among the servants, he knew, for the same reason she was popular among her vast network of friends--her kindness, her thoughtfulness, her sense of humour. Even knowing she was not dead, he was surprised to feel her absence, and he did regret that Liandra was left to grieve in exile for the mother he knew she truly loved.
The right amount of time had passed to change the subject. “And the reward—have any come forward?” Aden had been assigned the responsibility of questioning anyone who responded to the King’s offer of payment for information about the Little Dragons and the Dragon Priestesses.
“Yes, Your Highness, some have come forward.”
“With any information worth getting?”
“Not yet, Sire. All have stories, but nothing we have not heard a hundred times before.”
The King allowed another silence to fall between himself and his retainer. Aden did not become uncomfortable as some did, which the King took as a sign of steadiness and honesty. “Keep on with it, then,” he said. “You are dismissed.”
Aden bowed his grizzled head and backed away the requisite number of steps before turning and striding from the room.
Chapter 44: Maida
Comfort came quickly to Liandra. After sleeping through the next day, she came down the stairs from the loft looking peaceful and composed. “Are you all right?” Maida asked her.
“My mother is still alive,” Liandra told them. “I don’t know what’s happened, but I know she’s all right.”
“How do you know that?” Peg asked her.
“Rafe told me, and I believe him.”
A few days later, confirmation arrived in a small, paper-wrapped package carried by a drover from the west. “This is for you, Mother,” he said to Peg. “It comes from the Women’s Retreat House, with a message. I memorized it. Hope I’ve got it right still: ‘The Lady is well. Tell no one.’”
Peg thanked the man and asked if he would stay for a meal, but he was in a hurry to move on. When he had gone, Peg opened the packet. She frowned in puzzlement as a gold ring slid into her hand.
“My mother’s ring!” Liandra leaped to her feet and came across the room. She showed Maida and Peg the inscription in the ring, “Anglewart” and “Melisande,” joined by ornate scrollwork. “She found a way to send it to me.” She clutched it to her heart for a moment before slipping it onto her finger.
“What is going on here?” Maida asked Mother Peg as soon as they retreated to the stable at chore time. “She thinks she’s reading Rafe’s mind somehow. And how would he know?” The Healer shook her head, looking as puzzled as Maida felt.
Rafe, hearing his name, stopped in his task of carrying a pan of water into the chicken pen. Maida turned to him. “Rafe, Rafe, I wish you could talk to us.” Rafe grinned broadly and looked back and forth from Peg to Maida.
Peg sighed, “Go on with your work, lad.”
To Maida she said, “I’m preparing a package to send to the Healer’s School. Word has spread that I am looking for information about the Dragon Priestesses and now I’m getting messages that various people farther east would like to talk to me, although most of what they want to talk about is probably their ailments! At any rate, I want to take Rafe and make a journey of a few nights into that part of the Forest. That will take me very close to Sister Loka’s practice, and I know she plans to travel to the School soon. I want to send the interviews I’ve done so far with her, and I also plan to ask if others have noticed activity among the Dragons. I think more are going over here than have for some time.”
“I think so too.”
“I’ll also write a letter to Sister Holly, the Librarian, and ask if she knows of anything, in any of the Journals there, about mind-to-mind communication, or strange knowledge in someone who doesn’t even seem to register normal everyday things.”
Chapter 45: Melisande
The smell of candlewax and the music of women’s voices drifted in from the Chapel where all the Sisters and Widows had gathered. In the anteroom behind the Chapel, Melisande and Imelda sat side by side on wooden chairs. They were dressed for the first time in the grey gowns of the Women’s Retreat House,. The snip snip of a pair of scissors echoed against the walls as lock after lock of long hair landed on the floor, Melisande’s golden blond mingling with Imelda’s white. The ceremony was solemn, for Melisande, a mixure of sadness and relief.
When the quiet Sister with the scissors was finished, Melisande and Imelda studied one another, taking in their newly shorn heads. Two Sisters approached with their veils, black for Melisande, to signify her Widowhood, grey for Imelda, who had decided to begin the long process of becoming a Sister. They offered their hands to lead the new entrants to the back of the Chapel aisle.
Beneath a statue of the Warrior God and his dead Dragon, the Head Mother stood at the foot of the altar steps, waiting for them. There was a pause in the choir, a shuffling of feet, a clearing of throats. The Sister who directed the singers raised her hands. When she brought them down the Chapel filled with a joyful hymn of welcome.
Melisande, now Merrit, and Imelda walked back to their adjoining rooms hand in hand, equals. As they turned into their hallway, they heard young voices and paused. It was Jessa, telling Ev what rumours she had heard about the Queen’s funeral, who was there, what changes have come about in the royal and noble families, what they wore.
Her cheerful chatter disappeared down the hallway in the other direction.
Imelda gently squeezed Melisande’s hand, but the former Queen burst into laughter, quickly controlled. “I shouldn’t laugh at her, poor child. How ironic that I have just shed all of that, with relief and gratitude, and she craves it!”
Chapter 46: Gleve
The next evening Father Mallory gave Gleve a critical look. Gleve realized he must be haggard and hastened to excuse it. "I didn't sleep all day," which was true.
Father Mallory nodded, but assessed him for another moment or two. "You should look in on your patient."
"He's exhausted. I think I'll just let him sleep."
A brief frown crossed Father Mallory's brow, but Gleve ignored it. Lynna also gave him a look, a concerned one, but said nothing as she placed a basin of warm water on the counter for him to wash his face and began to prepare breakfast.
A couple of hours later, Father Mallory raised the issue again of checking on Keiran. Gleve knew he could avoid it no longer. He picked up a small lantern and carefully entered the bedroom. "Keiran, are you awake?" he asked as he closed the door behind him. There was a rustle as Keiran turned toward the wall. "How are you feeling?" Gleve asked. No response.
Gleve sighed and stood uncomfortably beside the bed. He didn't even set the lantern down on the side table. After a few moments, he spoke again. "Look, Keiran. What I did, I shouldn't have. It was unprofessional, for a Healer, that is. I …" His words died away. What else could he say?
Keiran's rusty voice emerged from the piled blankets. "I know what you think I am."
This took Gleve completely by surprise. "What do you mean, what you are?"
There was a long pause, then Keiran pulled back the blankets from his head and turned to look at Gleve. Now his features were distorted by anger, hurt and shame. "You think I'm a faggot."
"A faggot? Keiran, no. People of the Land don't use that word. We don't think there is anything wrong with men loving men. We don't have insults for them, I mean, us."
"Us?"
"I mean, me. I am a man who loves men, always have been. So is Father Mallory. It's not a problem for our people. I'd forgotten what it would mean, for you, that is. I'm so sorry."
There was a movement behind Gleve. He had not heard the door open or close, but suddenly Father Mallory was there beside him. He studied Keiran's troubled face for a moment, then asked, "What have you remembered now, my son?"
Keiran's face crumpled. He curled up again, although facing them this time, and released a deep, desperate sob. Father Mallory lowered himself to the side of the bed and laid a calming hand on Keiran's shoulder through the covers. "It's all right. Tell us."
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