by Alma Boykin
One glance told me why she’d not married. Even Jan wrinkled his nose at her appearance and he was, may Godown forgive me for honesty, not selective about which women appealed to his fancy. Elizabeth’s pale green eyes looked a trifle large for her narrow forehead, but her nose rivaled Quill’s. It matched her overly-generous mouth. She had no chin to speak of. She kept her hair covered at all times, as is seemly for a vowed woman, but I later learned that her apparent modesty stemmed from vanity as much as from decorum. And then she insisted on spending her days with the men, drilling and riding with them when she wasn’t praying. What had Quill sent under my roof?
Matthew, busy patrolling with the men and helping Kemal with Starhart’s defenses, did not meet her. Even so, I began to worry. Would he find Elizabeth interesting, interesting enough to become attached to? He’d reached the age when young men do foolish things for what they think is love, and falling in “love” with a warrior maiden sounded just like something he’d do. I spent that night on my knees in the chapel, praying to Godown and asking St. Sabrina and St. François to keep Matt from doing something foolish. And to keep Quill from giving Elizabeth to Matt or the reverse. Because I still could not imagine what Quill wanted from the Frankonian stranger.
I found out after he arrived. He insisted that she join us for breakfast the second day after his arrival. He loved her! No, not as a man with a maid, but his eyes had the same look as when Matthew had done something praiseworthy. When I asked her about her intentions toward him, he bristled, even as she swore that she had no interest in Quill and that she did not want to cause trouble in the household. Well, she already had. At least she also made it clear that she had no pretentions of marrying Matthew. In truth, I suspected that she followed St. Jenna. After all, even I had heard the strange old stories about women from before the Great Fires who fought in armies alongside men, and none of them had ever married or borne children. Quill forbade any more talk about the matter.
The next night he returned to my bed. Afterward he looked into the darkness and said, “Marie, Godown may have sent the answer to our prayers in the form of a young woman on a mule.”
I thought my heart would stop. “What, what do you mean?”
“She’s been trained in tactics and strategy, thinks better under pressure than almost anyone I’ve met, and isn’t afraid to take the battle to the enemy.” He chuckled, adding, “Even though she gives the credit to her mule.”
“What are you going to do with her?” I imagined he’d send her on to Vindobona and Duke Grantholm.
Instead he said, “Train her to fight, teach her as much as her brain will hold, and thank Godown for sending someone who can help us.” Those were not the words I wanted to hear.
But I kept my thoughts to myself. Instead I asked the more important question. “Do you intend for her to dine with us?” If so, I needed to have words with Lady Ann and Elizabeth about conduct and the role of guests. I did not want a bad example set for my daughters.
“No. It would set a bad precedent.” He rolled onto his side and looked at me, taking my hand and rubbing it. “I cannot ask you to like her, my lady. But I do ask that you and your women treat her with courtesy and patience. She is a foreigner, and sheltered.”
That I could do with a clear conscience. And Elizabeth preferred to keep to herself, thanks be.
Once Elizabeth departed to Vindobona with the servants, life returned to normal, or as normal as living on a battlefield can be. On one thing Quill, Kemal, Lady Ann, Elizabeth and I all agreed: the Turkowi must be stopped. Quill had never asked me to visit the families who’d suffered from raids, or who’d lost men to the unending fighting, but I did, taking them what physical and other help I could. Every day I prayed to Godown to help us, especially the women. Men fight but women suffer. Just how much we suffer I had not known until I came to Starland. Peilovna, blessed by Godown, sits well back from the borders. Starland and Kossuthna Major are the border. And the raids grew worse over the years. I confess, may Godown have mercy, that I gave thanks those years that the Turkowi turned their attention north, plaguing someone else. A year without the stench of burned out homes, of slaughtered livestock, a year without the wails of mourning women, that was all I prayed for. Four times before the siege of Vindobona, Godown granted my prayer.
The other years I prayed for winter while preparing for the worst. You cannot imagine how my heart danced when Quill returned alive from his endless fights and counter-raids. Not just because he was my husband, but because if he died, it meant the worst had happened and I would be forced to defend Starheart and to lead the men until help arrived. Of all the things I knew I’d have to learn when I came here, siegecraft and defensive warfare were nowhere near my thoughts. But I learned, studying with Captain Destefani and Quill, reading some of his father’s books, and doing my part to ensure that the keep had enough food and supplies to survive at least three months’ siege. On this alone Lady Ann deferred to me. But it was a relief when winter came that year and we could travel north, to Vindobona and all the pleasures of court.
Ah, Vindobona, the heart of the empire, the city that would take my husband’s life. That winter we attended court. His imperial majesty Rudolph, Quill, and Archdukes Lewis and Arpad kept Elizabeth busy and away from our town palace from dawn to dusk. Because of Miranda’s betrothal to Prince Ryszard Sobieski of the Poloki, our family’s days passed in a flurry of receptions and fittings, celebrations and visits to shops. Quill opened his purse for our daughters, Godown grant him rest, and the Babenburgs contributed as well, lest the empire be shamed by accusations of poverty and miserliness. Despite the cold and storms that winter was the happiest I could recall. Oh, my heart ached at the thought of Miranda going north, likely away from me until we met in Godown’s land. But such a match! How could I not rejoice in Miranda’s fabulous fortune? My daughter would be a princess, married to the second in line to the Poloki throne? For although Ryszard was the second son and not heir, until his brother’s eldest child reached the age of majority, Ryszard remained in the direct succession. Princess Miranda Sobieski has such a wonderful sound, doesn’t it? It pained me that Ann would never find such a match, but Godown knows what is best.
But I’d have Miranda for another year, thanks be. Elizabeth too, as events later proved, much to my dismay. Why dismay? Oh, not what most people would think. No, my dismay came because rather than staying at Starheart as was seemly, she rode out with the men, leading troops under Quill and Matthew’s command. At least Kemal found a way to keep her away from Matt, “suggesting” that his youngest brother Lazlo act as her guard and escort. I appreciated his forethought: I did not need any more worries, because I’d become pregnant shortly before we went to Vindobona. This time I kept my secret until I began showing, and so kept Quill in my bed as long as I could. The child felt quieter at first, and may Godown forgive me, I worried that it might be a girl. But by the seventh month he’d begun to take after his older brother, kicking and squirming. This time I confined myself for the last two months. I’d reached the age where many women have trouble, and I could take no chances.
Godown be praised, Rudolph came into the world healthy and loud, after the easiest labor I had. He nursed energetically, almost as energetically as Quill praised me. Rudolph had my father’s green eyes and Quill’s nose, but without the bend in the middle. I could not have been happier. Then the messenger from Emperor Rudolph arrived with news of the Turkowi moving to the Kidron Valley, north and east of Vindobona. As he prepared to leave, Quill hesitated.
“What is it?”
He took a deep breath. “My lady, I have a request to make of you.”
I thought it would be about defending Starland, or putting up with the foreigner. “What?”
“May I have your permission to cease my marital duties? We have four children, and I don’t want to lose you to a half-birth or childbed fever.” There was something else, something he could not say then.
I considered his request as I nursed
Rudolph. At the moment I had no desire ever to share a bed with him again, because my body ached from the delivery and our son needed my attention. But what about later, would I long for his touch again? Except I had not desired him, not truly, since the previous summer. I had enjoyed our nights of pleasure, but the craving no longer stirred me. And I did not want another pregnancy, not after my mother’s passing that winter. So I said yes, on the condition that if I asked him to return, he would. He agreed, kissed me and our son, and then took his leave.
Two months later he wrote from Vindobona, apologizing for the delay and asking Lady Ann to come north to open the house there. They’d won the battle but he needed to remain at court, “for political reasons.” I did not envy Ann having to deal with Quill: politics brought out the worst of his temper and made him sulky. One sulky male in my life at a time was plenty, and I sent Ann north with a clear conscience and glad heart.
Quill returned a month later, without the foreigner or Lady Ann. I’d sent a message with her, telling him that from now on I alone would order our household. When he came in without Ann, I thought perhaps he’d found someone willing to marry her. Or, as unlikely as it seemed, perhaps she’d developed a vocation and had joined the Sisters of Service. “Ann is at the house in Vindobona,” Quill informed me the evening of his return. “She and Colonel Elisabeth von Sarmas will depart to Windthorst in the next few weeks, if they have not left already. She’s acting as Elizabeth’s chaperone and chatelaine.”
I blinked. They’d be only a river’s width away from Peilovna! But Windthorst? Had Elizabeth married the count? “Windthorst, my lord?”
“Yes. After the former owner’s death, it reverted to the crown, and his majesty has given Elizabeth the property to manage for the crown, under the supervision of Archduke Lewis.” Quill smiled and sipped his wine, waiting for my question.
“What happened to Eric Windthorst?”
The smile turned into an angry growl. “He turned traitor. He’d been worshipping Selkow and aiding the Turkowi. He tried to have Elizabeth executed for his own crimes, but Lewis and I had evidence enough to stop him. He then attacked Rudolph with a star knife and died for his crimes. His name is not to be mentioned again.”
A star knife? I shuddered and made St. François’s sign. Ugh! Perhaps that was why he’d made me uncomfortable the few times we attended the same receptions and dances at court.
Quill continued, “I ordered Lazlo Destefani and some of the others to go ahead of Elizabeth and Ann, in case any more of those creatures are hiding at the estate.”
My stomach churned. As little love as I had for Ann, the last thing I wanted was for her to encounter more followers of Selkow. Thanks be that she did not. She sent word not long after that the property, now called Donatello Bend, had been cleansed of the taint of that horrible false deity called Selkow.
The next eight years passed without incident, aside from the usual. Managing Starland occupied more and more of my time, and I saw to Rudolph’s upbringing as well. Quill did not return to my bed, although he assured me that if I asked him to, he would. Did I know what went on in his quarters? I suspected but I never asked. And matters with my brother so overshadowed Quill’s nocturnal habits that I doubt I would have cared had he been taking shahmas to bed. (If it had been pigs, however, I would have divorced him on the spot.)
My father’s child bride, younger than Jan, gave my father a son. Theobald Gerald they named him. My head understood why father had done it, but when the letter came I read it, dismissed my women, and screamed, pounding my fury out onto my mattress until my arms ached and my throat was raw. How dare he? He’d killed my mother trying to have a second son, and now he’d taken a girl to wife. When the news came of Jan’s behavior at the battles along the Plate River delta, I cried. I knew what would come next. Quill refused to tell me details, only saying that Jan had “suffered difficulties” during the battle but appeared mostly unharmed. Father’s letter laid out my brother’s shame in detail before ordering me not to say anything about my brother’s despicable conduct to anyone and informing me that he’d displaced Jan in favor of baby Theobald. The letter’s words hurt and I burned the missive, tossing the ashes onto the manure pile.
Would that the flames could have sealed away the pain in my heart. Would Quill turn on Matthew as father had turned on Jan? No, my husband doted on Rudolph, as did Matt, but Quill never said a word about setting Matt aside. Quill did make his disgust with Jan clear, however. “I would prefer that your brother not set foot in Starheart again,” he said one evening after supper, when we’d gone to my keeping room.
“He’s my brother. If he asks for help, am I to refuse him?” Instead of the needlework in my hands, I saw Jan as a baby and small child, laughing and playing, or running to me when he fell and scraped his hands and knees.
Quill looked into the fire. “You are not Marie Peilov any more, my lady. Duchess Starland cannot be seen sheltering Jan Peilov now that he’s been disgraced and banished from Peilovna.”
But I could do things quietly, or so I took his words to mean. In his angry pride, Jan left the empire rather than ask for help. My heart ached for the boy I’d helped raise, and several times when he wrote, I asked Quill to allow me to send Jan money.
“No. Send him gifts appropriate for your brother, but Starland cannot help him unless he regains the emperor’s favor.”
So I sent clothes and comforts as best I could from my pin money. In public I supported Quill, agreeing with him and the emperor, acting pleased when I met little Theobald Gerald or crossed paths with now-Countess Colonel Elizabeth. But if Quill had not already left my bed, I would have denied it to him. I loved Jan, my little brother, and detested our father. When father died I sent a condolence note to his widow but I did not mourn. I’m glad I saved my tears, because I soon had more than enough to weep for.
But first Quill and I had the surprise of our lives. I remember it well. The letter came on a beautiful spring day. I’d ordered my women and as many of the men as I could find to carry, drag, or otherwise move all the bedding, carpets, hangings, and winter cloaks and coats out into the courtyard and even the wall-walk to sun and air. Ugh, the dirt that came out of those carpets! For a moment I could see why Lady Elizabeth interested herself in Lander technology, since (according to what Lady Ann reported) they had possessed devices that pulled the dirt out of floor coverings, even if the carpet remained on the floor!
But on with the story. The servants had just started taking the first things back into the residence when Quill arrived. He’d met the postal rider and had collected our letters. He dismounted and began sorting through the small batch. Quill stopped, holding up a letter with the imperial seal on it. “From Archduke Lewis, at Donatello Bend,” he announced, handing it to me. I broke the seal then slit the envelope with my pen knife. Out came a copy of a Diligence and a wedding announcement. Lady Ann had married Archduke Lewis!
I reread the announcements, turning them over to find a message from Lewis saying that Ann would send a letter shortly. “Did you know of this?” I demanded, waving the cards at Quill.
“Know of what?” He took the announcement and read it. His eyes bulged and he blinked. “Blessed St. Gerald, I …” He looked at me, shaking his head. “No, my lady. I had no idea. Rumor has it that he’s been courting Elizabeth, not Ann.”
I snorted a little at that. Everyone knew that Elizabeth followed St. Jenna as well as St. Gerald. Everyone but Quill, it seemed.
Ann’s letter came the next week. She described the wedding and explained that their marriage was morganatic. That relieved me, not that I expected her to bear Lewis any children. Neither were young. She also said that she’d spend most of her time at Donatello Bend rather than in Vindobona. That also relieved me. Especially with what came next.
Everyone knows the story of the siege of Vindobona, of how Aquila and Matthew Starland, and Duchess Elizabeth von Sarmas, along with the Poloki and Magwi, rode to the rescue of the city, saving the empir
e and driving the Turkowi back to the sea. No one knows how my heart broke when I learned that our father’s harsh words had driven Jan to convert to the worship of Selkow. When Jan became heir to the Duchy of Tivolia, I had rejoiced. He now had rank and status. Now he could show everyone his true worth. He’d regain what our father had denied him and (perhaps) help secure the southern border. Instead he betrayed all of us, opening the gates to the Turkowi and turning a blind eye to their massacres and raids, even stripping Tivolia to support the attack on Vindobona. For that he died. Quill did not tell me how. No one has ever said a word in my presence about Jan’s death, and I choose to believe that he died in the battle, the first of my losses from that cursed summer.
When the Turkowi fled south, I still had not heard anything from Quill. Not until two weeks after the battle did I learn that he’d been injured and had come down with a fever. I assumed it meant wound fever, and worried greatly. We offered special prayers for his safety and that of the men from Starland who’d gone with him. The rest of the news trickled south slowly over the next weeks, as summer turned to autumn and then winter. First came news of the victory and of Quill’s health, followed by pages and pages of the names of those who would never return. Over half the women in Starland wore mourning that fall and winter, and we brought the harvest in ourselves, aided by old men and the older children. I visited and mourned with the other women until I felt as if I were the one who’d lost husband, brother, son. Then came the news of Jan’s death. I wept in secret. Duchess Starland could shed no tears for a traitor, but Marie sobbed for her little brother until her eyes burned. And then Quill summoned me to Vindobona, as soon as harvest ended and winter began.