“Good-good!” Bisch said, clapping Lucan on the back.
Few people could best Bisch in battle, practice or otherwise, but Patrick had watched Lucan do just that in impressive fashion.
“Thank you, sir,” Charles said to Patrick. The boy had a large welt on the right side of his face.
Jakob also voiced his appreciation. “Do you think we’re ready to slay some villains, then?”
Laughter rippled through the veterans.
Patrick froze and leveled a serious gaze at the boy.
“If you’re looking to become a knight just to whack away with your sword, then you’re doing it for the wrong reasons,” Patrick said. “Vanquishing villains, slaying dragons, and rescuing maidens are all fine and good, especially in stories, but the reality is far more unpleasant. Sometimes, a knight’s sole purpose is just to die for what he fights for.”
Patrick wanted to rant further, but stopped when noting all listened intently, not just the squires. Even Geoffrey paused in removing his padding. Lucan especially gave him a peculiar look.
The squires nodded solemnly.
“Fight strong,” Patrick finished, addressing the crowd, beating his breast.
“Live stronger,” came the collective response.
#
After putting away the pads, swords, and shields in the equipment room adjacent to the Avangarde barracks, he made his way to the great hall for morning meal. Before he could arrive, he noted several people walking briskly into the garden. Father Wulfric was among them, a look of concern bunched up in his bushy eyebrows.
Curious, Patrick followed. His boots crunched loudly on the loose gravel of the garden paths as he picked up his pace to catch up. When he did, he found a group of Avangarde, a boy, and Father Wulfric at the fountain at the center of the garden. Normally the site was a frequent location for romantic meetings in the evenings, but today it served as a place of gloom.
“There, you see,” the boy exclaimed, pointing to the ground.
Father Wulfric picked up a dark object and examined it.
Patrick approached and saw the priest holding a dead blackbird, though something about it struck him as peculiar. More dead birds littered the ground and bobbed in the fountain.
“I came across it on my way to breaking my fast,” the boy continued. “That is what happened to the stablehand, right?”
“Indeed,” Father Wulfric replied, sniffing the bird.
What looked like little white flowers boiled out of the creature’s eyes and beak.
“I told you I saw something last night,” Sir Balder said, vindicated.
“Nobody move!” the priest shouted, freezing all with the sudden force of his voice.
He gingerly walked around the fountain, sandals squishing in the mud, as he inspected the dead birds and the area.
At last he came to a cherry tree whose pink blossoms hung over the scene. He reached up, pulled on a branch, and released it so it swayed.
More dead birds rained down, followed by a wispy white thing drifting lazily in the air. Father Wulfric caught it gently between his outstretched palms.
When he looked at it closely, his face lit up with surprise, but then turned to frustration when the gauzy thing fragmented into tiny pieces in his hands.
“What did you see, Father?” Patrick asked.
“I could have sworn I saw the imprint of a face in it,” he responded, frowning deeply. “A human face.”
#
“What a lovely place this is,” Lilliana said, casting her gaze about the thatched and tiled roofs of Aesclinn. Cottonwood fuzz drifted in the sunlight. “Thank you, Kat, for suggesting we come here for our midday meal. It is a very nice change.”
Lilliana belched a very unladylike belch.
“My goodness,” Katherina said, stifling a laugh at the reaction of the people around them. “I’m guessing the sausage and beans agreed with you.”
“Presently,” Lilliana replied, rubbing her stomach. “Soon, I’m afraid, when my wind comes from the other end, it won’t be so pleasing. For those around me, in any case.”
This time Katherina could not stifle her laugh.
“You’re mad. I’ve never met a woman like you,” she said. “How can you be so ladylike one moment, and then so scandalous another?”
“Practice,” Lilliana said with a mischievous grin and put her arm around the shorter woman. “With a little work, you too can walk the fine line between good and evil.”
They laughed as they entered the town square.
A quick glance around the square testified to the impact of the Roman visitors on the island. Commerce now bustled in the sleepy village. The edges of the square bristled with carts full of goods, and many of the shops opened their windows to the public. Even shops that normally didn’t cater directly to the general public, like the silversmith, now had their articles on display.
“A trusting bunch,” Lilliana commented, observing commoners examining the glassblower’s wares.
“Thieves don’t trouble us,” Katherina explained. “Oh look, there is the confectionery cart the innkeeper told us about.” She took the taller woman by the hand and rushed her over to a cart full of pastries. A ponytailed girl watched over the little mobile store of sweets, and she curtsied with her apron.
“Oh, they all look so delicious. I don’t know which to choose,” Lilliana lamented, looking over the array of berry filled tarts.
“I’m amazed you still have room in your stomach,” Katherina giggled.
“Always room for sweets,” Lilliana countered, then addressed the girl. “What would you suggest, signorina?”
The girl, perhaps twelve years old, quickly pointed to a tart filled with raspberries that glittered like clear rubies.
“These are my favorites,” she said, “and they are popular, but you might want to take one of the blackberry ones before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?” Lilliana asked.
“In a few more weeks, it will be Michaelmas Day, and then after that the Devil claims them and they won’t be fit for eating until next year,” the girl warned.
“Well, we can’t let that happen,” Lillian said, making a face. “I’ll take one.”
“I’ll take a gooseberry,” Katherina said.
“Ah, I see you like your desserts just as you like your men,” Lilliana said, dropping a couple of copper coins into the girl’s hands. “A little on the bitter side.”
“Jon is not so bitter—quite the contrary,” Katherina replied, frowning as she accepted her tart.
The girl curtsied as the ladies moved toward the square’s fountain.
“I wasn’t speaking of him,” Lilliana explained, struggling with her tart after taking a bite out of it. The berries started to run down her fingers. “I was referring to a certain moody Irishman.”
Katherina scoffed. “I do not prefer my men moody, nor bitter, and Patrick is but a friend these days.” They took a seat on the edge of the fountain and ate their tarts, watching the variety of people in their colorful garments bustle about the square. The water gurgled behind them.
“Then why do you watch him so much when he is not looking?” Lilliana countered, gaining the upper hand on the berries running down her fingers with her tongue.
“I don’t think I do,” Katherina argued, “and if I do, it is for the same reason I catch you staring at him when he is not looking.”
“Touché,” Lilliana admitted. “We have a shared appreciation for fine-looking men. Does it bother you I regard your former beau so? If so, I can stop.”
“Not at all. He is not mine to claim,” Katherina replied, starting to struggle with her own tart. “Though the cardinal may feel differently.”
Lilliana laughed. “There is no harm in looking.”
They touched tarts and together said, “Cheers.”
“How fares the business with him, Geoffrey, the maidservant, and the work with the candidati?” Lilliana asked.
Katherina rolled her
eyes as she finished off her tart.
“It will take a miracle to organize the children,” she replied. “Geoffrey and Patrick have yet to spend time with us, so I couldn’t say what kind of tension that will cause, and the maidservant is useless so far. The little girl, Chansonne? She came into the Hall for Lady Guests covered in mud from the garden yesterday morning. She refused to allow herself to be cleaned. I set the maidservant to the task, but she only managed to chase the girl around the hall, leaving muddy footprints. The poor creature needs a bath. Even though she does not sing, she watches the practices and smells the auditorium up, distracting us all.”
“Sounds like you have your hands full,” Lilliana said, “but I have no doubt your strong will is up for the task.”
Katherina grumbled. “So far my ‘strong will’ has been best used for resisting what people want me to do, and not for making people do what I want.”
“Then why did you agree to the task?” Lilliana asked, genuinely curious.
“I agreed to the challenge of forming the children into a choir—not to all the baggage along with it. I have no idea what I’m going to do when the drama boils over with the knights and the maidservant.”
“You will know what to do. You are strong.” Lilliana took Katherina’s hand and confided, “Men are simple creatures, easily maneuvered. Certainly as women we cannot be expected to fight in the same arenas as they, but we have our weapons: guile, beauty, relationships. All one must do is find what motivates a man, and use it against him. Or, find who his enemies are, and motivate them against him.”
“Yes, I understand,” Katherina said distantly as she gazed across the square. “Those are time-honored techniques, but there are certain... situations I am not suited for. Certain things that frighten me.”
Lilliana followed her gaze to one of the benefactors who stood across the plaza. Count Fulk of Anjou, one of those associated with the Merchant’s Guild, watched them.
“What’s wrong with him?” Lillian asked, frowning. “What could possibly frighten you about an old man with a silly mustache?”
Katherina shifted her gaze to Lilliana and met the elder woman’s eyes. “He reminds me of my uncle. The only man in the world who truly frightens me and makes me feel helpless. The way the Count looks at me is the same way my uncle looks at me. He makes me feel... dirty. Especially when he toys with his belt to loosen it. It reminds me of when he... well...”
Katherina closed her eyes, trying her hardest to not show the tremble coming over her.
Lilliana reached up and stroked Katherina’s cheek. “Your uncle is why you are in Avalon, yes? Your mother sent you here in exile when he usurped your father’s throne in Kiev.”
Katherina nodded.
“Not long ago, a similar man came to Greensprings,” Katherina continued. “With him I felt strong, in control, but it was a lie. He manipulated me and caused me to make poor choices.”
“Loki,” Lilliana said quietly.
Katherina nodded. “I felt ashamed. I’ve lost confidence in myself ever since then. I’ve been avoiding Count Fulk since he first came to Avalon and I noticed him watching me. I should march right over there and tell him to stop, but I can’t.”
Katherina breathed out heavily in an almost shuddering gasp and took Lilliana’s hand, despite it feeling like a chicken’s foot through the lacy half-glove.
“I’ve never admitted that to anyone,” she finished.
“I feel honored you can share that with me,” Lilliana replied, picking up Katherina’s hand and kissing it, then added, “and I’m going to repay you for it.”
“Oh, how’s that?” Katherina asked, squeezing her hand.
“I’m going to show you how to deal with such people, accomplish what you want, and have a bit of fun while you're at it.” Lilliana maneuvered behind Katherina, placing her arms around her. She pulled back Katherina’s hair with one hand and whispered in her ear. “Take a good look at this silly old man. What does he look like to you?”
Katherina struggled to maintain her gaze on the leering Count Fulk. “A creepy uncle?”
Lilliana snickered and with her hand gently took Katherina by the chin and shifted her gaze in another direction. “You see that next to the farmer’s cart? Look familiar?”
Katherina noted the billy goat tied to a farmer’s cart. It took her a moment to understand what Lilliana meant, but then it struck her. The white goat’s scruffy beard and long face did indeed remind her of Count Fulk and she laughed, especially when the animal chewed. The way its mouth moved reminded her of Fulk at mealtime.
“You see?” Lilliana instructed. “All you need do when dealing with disagreeable people is make an association in your mind with their most harmless feature. Everyone has one. A resemblance to a silly or harmless animal. A lazy eye. A speech impediment. Focus on that. Use it. Then attack! For instance, I have it on good authority the count is attempting to bribe several benefactors to sway their decisions toward the Merchant’s Guild’s interests. I’m sure, armed with this knowledge, you can get what you want.”
To Katherina’s horror, Lilliana motioned Count Fulk over with a flirtatious smile.
The lanky old Frenchman sauntered across the cobblestones to the women. A graying blond mustache swam over his lip like a furry eel, mostly hiding his smarmy smile.
“Count Fulk,” Lilliana said, back erect, and eyes leveled confidently at him. “I believe the Lady Katherina has something to say to you.”
Katherina coughed, her voice catching in her throat.
“Splendid,” Fulk answered, turning to Katherina and smiling in anticipation.
From behind, Lilliana nudged her back and quietly bleated like a goat.
An involuntary giggle erupted from Katherina as she pictured a cud-chewing goat before her.
“Count Fulk,” she said, regaining her composure and raising her chin. “I do not like it whatsoever how you brazenly leer at me and I want you stop immediately.”
The Count groused and his bushy eyebrows closed in around his dark eyes.
“I am not ‘leering’ at anyone, and what if I were?” he sniffed. “What of it? You obviously like the attention of men. I’m merely providing it.”
Katherina imagined the billy goat in her mind with its horns caught in a hedge, struggling and bleating pathetically. She suppressed the desire to laugh again. “I disagree, and in any case, certainly do not wish your attention. As I said, you will stop immediately. I’m certain you are perfectly aware of who my friends are.” She gestured with her chin to Lilliana. “And by extension, so is the cardinal. You wouldn’t want a full investigation into the rumors of bribery. Leave me in peace, and I needn’t insist on one.”
Count Fulk’s eyes widened and his knees almost buckled.
“Very well, mademoiselle,” he said stiffly, smoothing out his mustache in a nervous gesture. He bowed deeply, making it a point to avoid eye contact with Katherina, and then turned on a heel and disappeared into the crowd.
“You see? Picture them as harmless. Lure them in with charm, threaten them with facts, and spell out their certain doom if they don’t comply,” Lilliana said.
“It worked!” Katherina smiled and let out a guarded breath, but the smile quickly fled from her face. “But this was a stranger. My uncle is a different matter. I can practice this technique until I vanquish a thousand Fulks, but I’m certain once confronted by my uncle, I will cave like a scared little girl.”
Lilliana cradled Katherina’s face in her hands and looked her in the eyes. “Trust me—you have it in you. Can you imagine? If you support Teodorico’s desire to bring the cup to Rome, he would certainly support you in any way he could to return your father’s throne back to you. That would put you in the position of strength you would need to face your uncle. You could go home! Then imagine what you could do from there. It has long been a goal of the popes to reunite the Roman Catholic Church with the Orthodox Church. Sitting on the throne in Kiev, you would be in a perfect position to f
acilitate that. You could be the great unifier! And a woman!”
Katherina’s eyes glazed over as her thoughts turned inward to visions of home. Of freedom. Of independence from overbearing men in her life.
While distracted by such thoughts, she felt Lilliana lean in and touch her lips to hers, lingering longer than expected from a friendly gesture.
Katherina pulled away, heat rising in her face.
“I imagine your uncle is the furthest thing from your mind right now,” Lilliana laughed.
Katherina cleared her throat and smoothed out the front of her dress. “Yes, now that you mention it.”
“Good, then. Mission accomplished,” Lilliana said.
In need of another distraction, Katherina noted several children frolicking through the crowd, laughing. Despite the perfectly sunny day, wet hair and clothes clung to their bodies.
“Children,” Katherina called to them as they passed near the fountain, “why so wet? It’s not raining.”
“We were at the swimming hole,” an eight-year-old girl replied, lisping through the gap where her two front teeth had fallen out.
“Swimming hole?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said a boy who looked to be the girl’s brother. “Over yonder, near the hill with the ring of standing stones called the Shrugging Giants.”
“Well, imagine that,” she said, surprised. “You best go dry off before you catch your death.”
“Yes, ma’am!” The children curtsied and bowed, and then scampered off.
“Kat?” Lilliana said, curious at Katherina’s thoughtful silence. “Something on your mind?”
Katherina smiled. “I have an idea.”
Chapter Ten
“No! No! No!”
Katherina slammed her hands onto the plinth, scattering black and white pebbles in every direction. She addressed the fidgety candidati on the auditorium stadium seats. Her voice echoed in the acoustic chamber, causing others in the room to turn their heads in her direction.
“When Candace finishes, then the rest of you begin on the very next note,” she explained, exasperated. “Emilie, I know you can sing louder than that. I’ve heard you scream when Stuart pulls your hair. Martin, moaning randomly is not singing.”
Ripples in the Chalice: A Tale of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 2) Page 25