“Go to your chamber and lie down. I’ll send someone to see to you in a few minutes.”
“But I’ve hardly noticed it . . . the pain, I mean . . .”
“Go, my child,” she said briskly, pushing me toward the door. “We’ll finish your chores.”
I grabbed a candle and headed to my cell, muttering under my breath. Why had I said anything? I didn’t want to lie down--I was wide awake and ready for dinner and a stroll around the winter garden afterwards. Banging the door shut behind me, I set the candle on the ledge near the battered easel one of the nuns had found for me. Many years ago, a careless artist had painted the former abbess’s portrait and left behind his easel. There was still enough light from the high windows and the candle combined to work for an hour before evening fell. I ground up a tiny bit of the silvery-grayish pigment I had been using for the shadows in the folds of Queen Jazmene’s white gown. I had just touched my brush to the canvas when someone knocked on the door. “Damn it,” I whispered, tossing a cloth over the painting. I didn’t want anyone to see the queen and her lover waltzing on my canvas.
“Abbess said you were supposed to be lying down,” said the mouse of a nun who entered at my summons, her tone reproachful.
“I’m too restless to lie down.”
“You should listen to her--she’s as good as any midwife.”
“I know she is, but I’m not sleepy. I feel fine.”
Her mouth pursed, a thin line of disapproval. “If you don’t lie down, I’ll tell her you’re being willful again.”
“Tattletale,” I hissed as I sat on the pallet.
She gave me a serene smile. “There can be no tattletales when God sees all we do,” she said.
I made a face at her back as she left, hoping God saw me. Then I fell back on the pallet, kicking at the floor with the back of my heel. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, telling me sternly to act my age. I should be grateful I had someone like the abbess to help me. I could be all alone. I gave the floor another savage kick, aching with loneliness and boredom and bad feeling. My back gave another twinge, and I cursed it. Cursed it because Mother wasn’t here, Dagmar wasn’t here, Merius wasn’t here, and I was completely alone amidst strangers, kind though they were. Completely alone and terrified. I clutched my belly then as if I could somehow hold the baby inside for another few weeks. “Not yet,” I whispered to him. “Not yet, please.” Then I laughed at my insane moodiness, begging him to wait while only a few minutes ago I had been longing for his birth. Perhaps the abbess was right--perhaps I should rest, even sleep. Maybe when I woke up, the baby would be on his way, and this swirl of unbearable excitement and terror inside would be gone.
The next several hours passed slowly. I felt like a child again, waiting for my father’s return home from one of his infrequent stints at court. Only then had the time trickled by with the same excruciating sluggishness. I tried to paint in between nuns poking their heads in my cell, but soon gave up because the interruptions were so frequent. I lay down again, drifting in and out of a daze, not quite napping but not quite awake. It was the daze of someone too awake to sleep, but too bored to do anything else.
Night had long since fallen when I finally raised my head from the pillow. What had I just heard? I strained my ears, finally sitting up. A distant commotion of voices and footsteps that grew closer. The deeper rumble of a male voice punctuated the higher voices of the nuns, shrill with panic. I hid my head under the blanket, trembling. A man in a convent--that was unheard of. It must be a guard, come to get me. Unless . . . I raised my head again, every muscle in my body poised on edge. The rumble was nearer now, near enough to hear properly. I leapt off the bed and almost ripped the door off its hinges.
“Merius!” I shrieked.
He came around the curved corner of the hall, and I waddled toward him as quickly as I could, my hands clutched under the weight of my baby. Tears rose in my throat. I sobbed for breath, trying to stop crying. Bad enough he had to see me lumbering around like a clumsy bear--I didn’t need a streaky red face as well.
“Sweetheart,” he exclaimed, rushing toward me. He grabbed me, supporting me as if he thought I was on the verge of falling. I wrapped my arms around him and buried myself in the folds of his cloak, the rough wool still cold and fresh smelling from the outdoors.
It took me a moment to realize we were surrounded by nervous nuns. “You can’t stay here, sir,” said Helanes finally, the tall nun who had greeted me at the door the night I came here. The others nodded in agreement, all of them gaping at Merius, some in obvious fear. I moved as close as I could to him, my arm tightening around his waist. They would have to throw me out if they threw him out--I wasn’t letting him out of my sight again.
“I should never have let you past the door, but I thought you were a member of the watch. You need to leave now, before the abbess sees you. No men are allowed here.”
“I mean no harm. I only came for my wife,” Merius said. He slid the coif from my head, his hand caressing my hair, my neck. I leaned against him--I had little realized just how much I missed the solid feel of him.
“She’s near her time . . .” Helanes began when the crowd of nuns parted, and the abbess swept through. She halted before us, the severe lines of her long face even more deeply etched than usual. Her eyes ran over Merius as if he were a stray tomcat who had been caught pissing in the corner. One would have thought she knew him, the way she looked at him.
“Who are you, young man?” she demanded.
“Safire’s husband.”
“I meant your name. Merius of what?”
“Since I have to leave, my lady, I don’t see how my name is your affair.”
Her eyes flared. “You’re Cormalen nobility.”
“You could say that.”
“It’s obvious, given your arrogant manners. Safire said you were in prison.”
“In a way, yes.”
“We’ll have no liars here. I should remind you that God punishes those who desecrate his holy places.”
“It wasn’t a lie, my lady.” Merius drew up to his full height. “I was in captivity until tonight.”
“How did you get out?”
“I escaped.”
“You’ve endangered us all by coming here then. I order you to leave immediately.”
Merius turned to me. “Are your things together, sweet?”
Before I could answer, the abbess broke in crisply, “She can’t be moved now--she’s too near her time. We’ll care for her--you can return for her in a fortnight.”
“Thank you,” Merius said through clenched teeth. His arm was so tight around me that I could scarcely breathe. “Can we have a few moments? Please?”
The abbess tightened her lips, then nodded. I absorbed this, numb until Merius turned to face me, his hands slipping around mine. His skin was rough, scraped, and I almost kissed the cuts before I remembered we had an audience of nuns. He must have hurt himself escaping.
“Listen, I’ll be back for you . . .”
“No.”
“Safire . . .”
“No, Merius. Baby or no baby, I’m coming with you.”
“I’ll not allow that. She’s right,” he nodded in the abbess’s direction. “You need to have the baby here, where it’s safe.” I remembered then that his mother had died in childbirth—no wonder he so suddenly gave in to the abbess.
“Then you’ll have to stay here, because I’m not letting you out of my sight,” I said.
“What if they try to arrest me again, and you‘re with me?”
“Then that harpy queen will have to arrest us together.” I turned to the abbess, at once both pleading and defiant. “If you’re worried about being endangered, then you should make me leave, not him. I’m the whole reason he was arrested in the first place.”
“Safire, don’t.” Merius gripped my arm.
The abbess crossed her arms, her dark eyes narrowed. “Helanes, come with us into Safire’s cell. The rest of you, back to y
our chores.”
She marched into my chamber, Merius and I following, hand in hand. Helanes brought up the rear, closing the door behind us. In this small, plain cell, I understood suddenly why the nuns seemed in awe, fear even, of Merius. His raw male energy was a completely foreign force in the arid space between convent walls. The abbess turned to face us, the swirl of her robes making a grand shadow on the wall. She was a proud empress in the light from the single candle, the hawk-like lines of her face thrown into sharp profile. “I rarely hear any news from court. We’re one of the simpler convents, and the less the world intrudes here, particularly the world of the powerful, the better. But I am of noble birth, and avoiding my origins completely has proven an impossibility.”
“Noble birth?” Merius’s tone was suddenly veiled, his court voice.
“Yes, Sir Landers.” We both froze, huddled together, vulnerable in our shock. “Your father arranged for Safire to stay here--he sent a message soon after her arrival,“ she continued. “It’s been twenty years or more since I’ve seen him, but I remember him well. You look like him. Are you as godless and wicked as him?” she demanded suddenly.
“I hope not, my lady.” For the first time since I had known him, Merius sounded meek.
“Good--a little humility. I’m glad to see it.”
“Forgive me, my lady, but I can’t place you so easily.”
“I’m Lord Toscar’s cousin, not that I claim him as such anymore.”
I sensed rather than saw Merius blink, his mouth firmly shut to block the expletive he almost uttered. The abbess watched us steadily, though I fancied I caught a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Why don’t you claim him anymore?” I asked finally.
“Because he’s a murderer and an adulterer.”
“So you kept Safire here? That was most generous and brave of you--if Queen Jazmene had discovered you were concealing her . . .” Merius began.
The abbess shrugged, her hands clasped behind her back. “If someone had discovered her here, I would have plead ignorance as to her true identity.”
Helanes was taken aback. “But, my lady, that would have been a . . .”
“There’s no sin in telling a lie to protect an innocent, Helanes.”
“Thank you, my lady.” I swallowed, thinking how close I had come to discovery, but for this stern woman’s kindness. “I’m sorry now I argued with you about the birds.”
“Sorry now? You should have been sorry before. You’re a heedless, disobedient girl. I wish you were staying here for awhile--a few years in the discipline of a convent would do you some good.”
I smiled at Merius. “I’m sure you’re right, my lady.”
“Your husband here needs you to be a good example for him. How else can he learn temperance?”
“That’s why I married her, my lady. Temperance.”
“Mockery holds no charms for me, young man. However, I can’t presume respect for virtue from one with your unlikely upbringing. Despite your failings, you’re both good of heart, and you seem devoted to each other. I suppose that’s enough for now.”
“My lady, why do you think Queen Jazmene wants Safire?” Merius’s grip on my hand reassured me, kept me grounded as my head grew light. I felt on the verge of fainting--if these walled virgins suspected I was a witch . . .
“Of course I know,” the abbess said, neatly dodging the trap in Merius’s question. “It’s my duty to know who’s under the roof of this convent. I wouldn’t have let Safire stay if I found out she was guilty of a crime.”
“How do we know you’re not secretly in league with Jazmene and Toscar?”
A faint smile flitted across the abbess’s dry lips. “You’re rude, but I appreciate your directness. I’m afraid you’ll have to trust your father’s judgment for now.”
“Merius, trust my judgment if you don’t trust Mordric‘s. I’ve been here for weeks, and these women have shown me nothing but kindness. Don’t you think that I of all people would know best if they were guilty of some duplicity?”
“Sweetheart, I know you’ve been here for awhile, but . . .”
“Young man, don’t doubt your wife. She has ways of seeing you can’t even imagine,” the abbess said, confirming my fears. She knew I was a witch.
My body started to shake, the dull ache in my back whetted to sudden sharpness. I hung on Merius’s arm. “I’m at your mercy,” I heard myself say, my voice shrill as I tried to keep the quaver out of it.
“Safire?” Merius demanded, turning me toward him as his eyes searched my face.
The abbess hurried over, seizing my shoulder from Merius. “Is it time, my child?”
“I don’t know.” I gripped her elbow, swallowing over the dryness of my throat. “You know what I am?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know I’m a witch, yet you keep me here?”
“I asked you if it was time,” she said firmly, as if she thought I’d gone soft in the head. Her grip tightened on my shoulder. “Is it?”
I shook my head. “If it is time, it’s only the first pain, nothing to worry about yet, not until the waters break . . .”
“We’ll see if you’re so calm in an hour. Helanes, fetch Verea and tell her it’s time. She knows what we need.” She started to tug me towards my pallet.
I resisted. “I don’t want to lie down, not yet.”
“Stubborn--you’ll wish you listened better soon enough.”
“Safire, love, please do what she says,” Merius said, his voice calm but his face grayish--he looked like he was about to be sick.
The abbess examined him, her gaze appraising. “She’ll be fine,” she said finally. “She’s young and healthy, and although she seems dainty to you, she’s actually quite strong. There should be no problems.” The abbess turned to me. “Now lie down before we force you. It’s unnatural, you still staying on your feet like this.”
“It’s unnatural that a convent shelter a witch, yet you did,” I said without thinking.
“We don’t condemn your kind here--your gift is from God, meant to enrich the world if used properly. We’re not like those barbarians who call themselves God’s believers in your home land and then burn innocents at the stake. Silly girl. Now, for the last time, will you lie down?”
Tears rose behind my eyelids and slipped silently down my cheeks. This abbess was the first person, besides Merius and my mother, who accepted me and my dark talents fully, without question or demand. And she was a holy nun, no less.
Merius saw me crying. “Is it another pain?” he demanded, his hair wild as he ran both hands through it. The night had barely started, and already he was balanced on the edge of a blade.
“No . . .” I broke off in a sniffling wail.
“Here, blow your nose,” the abbess ordered, stuffing a handkerchief in my face. “You,” she said to Merius. “Quit upsetting her. You should leave.”
“But where am I to go? The nuns are terrified of me . . .”
“I don’t doubt that. Carrying weapons in a convent--who ever heard of such?”
Merius went on like he hadn’t heard her. “And if I go out on the streets again, I’m sure to be captured. Safire needs me here--I’ll not leave her.”
“She needs you?” The abbess crossed her arms. “All you’re doing is upsetting her.”
“He’s not upsetting me--nothing’s upsetting me. I’ve not even had another pain.” I grabbed her sleeve so she would look at me, listen to me. “It’s just you don’t understand what you said . . . how you protected me even though you knew my true nature. I can’t tell you what that means to me, to my children.” I clutched my belly. “I can‘t thank you enough.”
She looked down at me for a long moment. Her hand rested lightly on the ladder of scars on my forearm, a knowing presence. “You’re welcome, my child. I trust you’ve suffered for your gifts, and you’ll suffer more before the end. Know you always have a haven here.”
I closed my eyes and squeezed her arm through the folds of h
er loose sleeve.
“You,” she shot at Merius, “Do you have a pocket watch?”
He nodded, shrugging aside his cloak and pulling his watch from his vest pocket. “Note the time,” she said. “Count the pains till I return.”
She stalked from the cell--if she wasn’t an abbess and above such behavior, I would have said she slammed the door behind her.
“Righteous old cat,” Merius muttered.
“If not for her, I’d be having this baby in a snow bank.”
“True enough.” He leaned over, and our mouths met, his fingers splayed against my neck, in my hair.
“Don’t forget where we are,” I said hoarsely, breaking away long enough to touch my lips to the cuts on his hands. His skin tasted of stone and metal and cold air.
“What we do together, do for each other, is just as sacred as what these nuns do,” he retorted, his voice husky as he leaned down for another long kiss. He somehow ended up sitting on the pallet beside me, his back against the wall behind us, his long legs stretched out, his arm around my shoulders.
I snuggled against him, my arm across his midriff. “I’ve worried about you every minute. How did you escape?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve time.”
“Those nuns will be back shortly.”
“I suppose you’re right.” My eyes slipped closed. I yawned, my arm tightening around him. His stomach rumbled under my ear, and I grinned. “You’re hungry.”
“I missed dinner.”
“I’m sure they would bring you something . . .”
“Maybe later. What I really want now is Father’s whiskey.”
“Nervous?”
He shrugged. “No. Well, maybe a little.”
“You don’t have to stay, you know.”
“Don’t you want me here?”
“No.” I jerked up, looked at him. “No, of course I want you here. I just meant that with what happened to your mother, maybe it would be too hard . . .”
“Shh.” He pulled me back down, cradled me on his lap. “Be still now, sweet. Don’t worry about my mother--that was a long time ago. Besides, if . . . if something were to happen, I’d want to be here.”
Tapestry Lion (The Landers Saga Book 2) Page 33