Alicia Roque Ruggieri

by The House of Mercy

  She moved toward a low stool near the fire, close enough to warm her in the chilly cavernous hall. He followed her slowly, taking a seat on another stool facing her.

  “You seem unsure about something, Deoradhan. May I ask what it is?”

  His eyes darted up to meet hers. “I thought, my lady…that I would discuss these matters with my lord. Weylin is his name, aye?”

  Seonaid smiled. “Aye, the lord is called Weylin. But my husband entrusts these estate matters to my judgment. Should any trouble arise, you will see me first. Is that understood?”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  “That’s well.” She folded her hands across the green wool of her skirt. “Now, you will have charge of the horse training, feeding, pasturing, and breeding at Dunpeledyr. Many seek horses from us, including the stables of the Pendragon himself. ‘Tis a difficult job you set out to master, Deoradhan.” She peered at his face. “And by your countenance, ‘tis easy to tell you’ve no more than twenty-five winters behind you. Aye?”

  The young man did not smile but looked at her intently. “I am twenty years old this past summer, my lady. I was born the year Arthur ascended the throne.”

  ‘Tis almost as if he is trying to imply something, but I can’t understand what ‘tis. Seonaid frowned. Something here is odd, very odd.

  She stood. “You realize that you will stay without leave for this entire winter, that you may not quit Dunpeledyr’s territory until spring.”

  The young man furrowed his eyebrows, worried. “Why not, my lady?”

  “My husband keeps this policy with all his servants. He believes that it tries their loyalty. In the spring, you may request and receive leave by me,” she explained. She paused. “Is there a problem with this, Deoradhan?”

  He hesitated. “I left my promised wife at Oxfield and told her I would return for her soon. She is a kitchen servant there.”

  Seonaid thought he flushed a little red at this last bit, and she smiled inwardly. How interesting the differences in class even among servants! “Well,” she spoke aloud, “You may send word to your young woman and let her know you will fetch her in the spring.”

  “That would be acceptable, for me to have a wife at Dunpeledyr?”

  “Aye, of course. There may even be work here for her.”

  He smiled, his first since he’d met her. “Then I agree to your terms, Lady Seonaid.”

  Oxfield

  Wearily, Deirdre lifted the bucket and poured water into the wooden bowl. She rolled up her tunic sleeves and splashed the cold water over her arms, rubbing them to remove the caked flour. Then she shook the water from her hands and wiped them on her skirt. With a sigh, Deirdre picked up the small clay lamp and willed her feet toward the fireplace to see if Cook needed anything.

  Deirdre moved quietly toward the woman, hoping to not awaken her if she already slept. As she neared the fire, however, she could see by Cook’s profile that she was still awake.

  “Cook, do you want water or anything else?” Deirdre asked. “I’m going to bed now.”

  Cook didn’t reply. Knowing the older woman was a little deaf, Deirdre took a seat across from her to try again. “Cook—”

  Her words died as she realized Cook stared blankly, her head slumped back against the pillow behind her. Fear touched Deirdre, and she reached to lay her hand on Cook’s.

  ‘Twas cold as snow, stiff as wood. Deirdre retracted her hand and sat still, her eyes gazing across at the ugly shell that had housed such an exquisite person. Her love for the woman filled her more than it ever had during Cook’s life.

  24

  West Lea

  “I’ll return in a few weeks,” Calum promised. The late morning had seen Lowri’s burial, and now Bethan walked beside him as he led his horse toward the road. Exhausted from weeping, Enid slept inside the cottage. “You have enough food to get by until then?” he inquired.

  “Aye. Thank you, Calum,” Bethan answered quietly. “I cannot thank you enough for every way you’ve helped us.” Her voice soothed him as a mother bird with its hatchlings. Even in sorrow, serenity accompanied her. Could she transmit such peace to me?

  At the road’s edge, Calum stopped and turned to look at her. After a moment, she asked, “What is it, Calum?”

  He paused. Lord, help me to see Your way for me. This is opposed to everything I thought I would do. But my feelings…

  “Have I done something wrong, Calum?” Her face grew serious and pale. She stood there like a child about to be chastened for some error.

  He shook his head. “Nay.”

  She reached a hand to his forearm, her eyes beseeching him. “Tell me, Calum, please. Whatever ‘tis, it can’t be any worse than these past days have been.”

  He inhaled deeply. “I hesitate to say it, lass, because you’re grieving over your mama, and I don’t want to take or seem to take advantage of that. But what I must say…that is, I don’t think ‘twill come as a shock to you. At least, I hope it won’t.”

  Calum observed her carefully. She stood silent, waiting. Speak, lad, while she’s listening. “I care about you, Bethan. Very much.” He sighed. “I never thought I would say that to any lass. But, truth upon my lips, I admire you more than any lass I’ve ever met.”

  She sucked in her breath audibly and turned away from him. Calum felt his insides cave.

  “I have spoiled our friendship, aye?” he whispered, laying a hand on his horse’s neck. That I had kept my feelings to myself!

  After a moment, he saw Bethan shake her head. When she turned toward him, he thought she blinked away tears. She, too, cares!

  “I am promised to another man.” Her words sent the arrow of providence to kill his hopes. “One of the women you met at the burial…’tis her son I’m to wed.”

  “Who is he?” He couldn’t stop the words.

  She cradled the muzzle of his horse in her hands. Calum watched as the animal lipped her fingers in play. “Garan, son of the priest from the next village. I’m to marry him in the spring.”

  The son of a priest. “Is he a good man, this Garan?” He kept his eyes on the horse.

  She swallowed. “Aye, very good. I couldn’t ask for better.”

  Calum nodded. He couldn’t speak. There was nothing worthwhile to say, and he wouldn’t make it worse for them both by vocalizing regrets.

  “‘Twas arranged a year ago.” She met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Calum,” she whispered.

  They stood silent for a moment. Then Calum mounted his horse, handling the reins gently. “I’ll return in a few weeks,” he restated. “Grace and peace.”

  He saw the sadness in her eyes. “Grace and peace,” she replied, and he nudged his horse into a trot.

  Looking back a few moments later, he saw that she’d already returned to the cottage, not waiting to see him disappear.

  Dunpeledyr

  His lips turned up in pleasure. For as long as he could remember, the boy-turning-man had loved sitting by the burn, trying to mimic its childlike laughter in his mind, thinking of songs as he soaked in the warm sunlight. Now Solas moved his hand over the grass and suddenly felt a moist, hot tongue run across his palm.

  “Giant! You came!” The dog rarely obeyed his commands immediately, so ‘twas a surprise to have him come at only a whistle or two. “Good dog. Good dog.” Solas delighted in feeling the rough heavy fur between his fingers.

  “Lad!”

  At the unexpected call, Solas alerted. He felt Giant’s fur rise beneath his fingers and a soft growl begin deep within the dog’s chest. “Easy, boy. Easy.” Solas rose to his feet and turned toward the voice. “Who is it?” he asked, not at all nervous. The fields were his keep, as Dunpeledyr was his father’s.

  “My name’s Deoradhan,” the man said.

  He is on foot; I can tell by the level of his voice.

  “I’ve come from Dunpeledyr, but I think I’ve lost my way. Can you help me with directions?”

  Solas smiled. The new horsemaster. Mother liked him well. �
�I can do better than that. I’m headed back now and will take you myself. Does that suit you?”

  “Aye, it does,” answered the man. “And you are…?”

  “Solas,” he supplied, “Lord Weylin and Lady Seonaid’s son.”

  The man was silent for so long that Solas wondered if he’d decided to try to make it back to the fortress on his own. “Are you still there, Deoradhan?”

  The horsemaster found his voice. “Aye, aye, I am. And you will lead me back, Solas?”

  Solas couldn’t help but laugh at this. “A blind lad, lead you? Nay, man, Giant will lead both of us and see us safely home. Come, Giant.”

  The dog moved forward, and Solas picked up his walking staff. “He’ll bark for me to know where to go,” he explained to his new acquaintance, “but there’s little need of that for you.”

  Solas knew that the man must be nodding, and he began walking toward the barking ahead. “Mother has been pleased with your work these few days, Deoradhan.”

  “I’m glad she’s satisfied, lad,” answered the man.

  Solas paused. “You met my sister at court, did you not?”

  “Aye, I met her.”

  “She spoke of you highly and said you’d studied abroad.”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “But grew up in Camelot, at the high king’s table? How did that come to be?” asked Solas.

  “Through a difficult circumstance,” the horsemaster answered. “And you, Solas. Lady Fiona told me that you come to court but rarely.”

  “Aye, ‘tis a far distance for a blind lad. And my mother never goes. I don’t care to go with my father alone. You’ll see the fortress just over these hills, I’m told,” Solas said as he felt the ground rise under his feet.

  Oxfield

  The young nobleman turned in his polished saddle and raised one hand in a wave. From her place on the steps beside Drustan, Tarian saw that Lancelot’s mouth carried his perpetual half-smile and that his eyes gleamed even more brightly than usual. He anticipates court life eagerly. She glanced over at Drustan, who held his hand up in send-off.

  “So departs Apollo,” commented the lord, his eyes following his nephew as the horse and rider cantered through the gate. The hooves sounded sharp as lightning on the cold stones. “Ah, well, I’m sorry to see him go,” he sighed.

  Tarian stayed silent, watching him. He looks as if he would go with Lancelot if he could. I am a noose around his neck. She swiveled her gaze back to Lancelot’s retreating back and heaved her own sigh of relief, not yearning. Never have I been so glad to see someone leave. What a bad influence. Though I don’t know how much worse Drustan can get.

  With a shiver, Tarian turned toward the hall entrance. Her husband’s voice stopped her. “Do you want to begin seeing candidates for a new head cook this week?”

  Tarian spun in surprise. “What do you mean? Meghyn is our head cook.” Surely the older woman hadn’t quit. Not at the beginning of winter.

  Drustan furrowed his eyebrows. “Meghyn’s dead, Tarian. I thought you would have heard.”

  Dizzy with sudden distress, she shook her head, clutching her thick shawl around her shoulders. “When did she die?” she managed.

  “The day after Samhain,” replied the lord.

  I spoke to her only days before. “And where have they buried her?”

  “In the cemetery outside the gates.” He shrugged. “At any rate, we need a head cook as soon as possible. You’ll take care of it right away?”

  Of course. You wouldn’t want your meals disturbed, Tarian thought bitterly, feeling guilty and justified at once. God forgive me, but he cares for no one but himself. I know that now. Forcefully, she turned her thoughts to the present. “Aye, but I don’t think I need to see anyone. I have a person in mind already.”

  “Who?” Drustan frowned. “I hope ‘tisn’t one of your upstart religious friends, Tarian. The head of the kitchen needs to know what she’s doing. And don’t try to deny you have such friends.”

  Anger mingled with her sadness over Meghyn’s death. “I won’t deny it, Drustan.” She raised her chin. “And I think you know me well enough to believe that I will choose someone competent, my lord.”

  Drustan nodded. “See that you do, then. I’ll leave it in your hands.”

  Dunpeledyr

  “Deoradhan, Lord Weylin has returned from the south and wishes to see you.”

  Deoradhan paused with the soft brush half-way down the length of the bay horse. Finally. Heart thundering, he turned to the young stable lad. “Jamie, you’ll finish—”

  “Aye, I’ll finish him!” the boy snatched the brush from Deoradhan and began to draw it over the horse with long, gentle strokes.

  Not bothering to thank the boy, Deoradhan rushed from the stable, slipping on the straw under his leather shoes. The sun blinded him as he came into the light, and he suddenly realized that he hadn’t asked where Weylin would meet with him.

  Never mind. I’ll find him. And one day, not today, but one day I’ll… He let his thoughts trail off, not daring to complete them yet. When he had allowed his mind to travel down that path in the past, the idea had paralyzed him with desire. I will have what is mine by right. And he will be no more. No more a torment to my mother, no more an obstacle in my path.

  But for the first time, one corner of his mind played the traitor. But what of Solas? And what of Fiona?

  The questions tore him in two without warning, freezing his will with an indecision he’d not known before.

  Oxfield

  “Her mother is dead, my lord,” Calum informed Lord Drustan. The two men sat in the lord’s private chambers. Having traveled all day from the West Lea, Calum wished he could have retired immediately, but he knew that business came first at Oxfield. After handing over his horse to a stable boy, Calum had reported to his lord without delay.

  “And her father?” Drustan asked, sipping his wine. His slippered feet stretched out toward the hearth, and he had wrapped a heavy robe around his shoulders against the early winter’s chill.

  “Away working at another farm. No one knows where. He told some of the neighbors that he planned to return after the harvest.”

  “And he hasn’t come back yet? And no word from him?”

  “Nay, no word.”

  The lord raised his eyebrows. “Either he’s dead or a deserter.”

  “I’m sure he’s no deserter, my lord,” Calum asserted.

  Lord Drustan smiled. “Nay? Well, then, he’s dead, aye?”

  Calum stayed silent. Lord, let him be alive, for Bethan’s sake.

  “And if he’s dead, he died with a debt on his land. His daughter realizes what that means, aye?” asked Drustan.

  “The land will revert to you, my lord.” Calum shook his head. “Nay, I’m sure the girl hasn’t thought of that. But I’ll tell her.”

  Lord Drustan nodded and stood. “So I’ll see you in a week or so?”

  “Aye.” Calum rose to his feet. “My lord, Bethan has no relatives nearby that I know of, and she has a little sister in her care now. Would you retain both of them in your service, my lord?”

  The nobleman thought for just a moment. “Aye, aye, bring them back with you. You’ve said the girl is a fine worker in the kitchen?”

  “Aye, the finest I’ve seen.”

  “Good.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Tarian accepted the cup from Deirdre with a smile of thanks. A cup of warm mead in her own hands, the kitchen maid sat across from her. Deirdre’s eyes roamed over the other servants in the kitchen, silently supervising them as she talked with her mistress.

  “I was very sorry to hear about Meghyn, Deirdre,” Tarian spoke. “Did she have any family nearby?”

  Deirdre shook her head, then paused. “Well…aye, I suppose Deoradhan could count himself her family. She raised him from a small lad, I understand, as his nurse. You ken, Deoradhan, the lord’s messenger.”

  Recognition came to Tarian. “Aye, I do. I hadn’t realized that he and Meghyn
were connected.”

  “Aye, but he knows naught of her death, I think. He’s away who knows where.”

  The two young women sat silent before the hearth for a few moments before Tarian spoke again, “Were you the one who found her?”

  “Aye, ‘twas I.” Deirdre smiled. “But she’s with the Lord now, my lady. And we press on here.”

  “Aye, I can see that you do. You run this kitchen very efficiently, Deirdre,” Tarian commented.

  “Thank you, my lady. We all work hard.”

  Tarian paused. Would the girl accept? “I wonder if you would take Meghyn’s place as head of the kitchen, Deirdre.”

  She heard the girl suck in her breath. Deirdre leaned back in thought, the chair creaking as her back pressed against its frame. “I don’t know if I could do it, my lady,” she finally said. “You don’t realize how much Cook actually did in the kitchens.”

  “But I thought you’d taken her place as she became more and more ill,” put in Tarian.

  Deirdre shrugged. “I did, somewhat. But always under her supervision and guidance, my lady. It’s not the work, don’t mistake me. I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  “I know that, Deirdre. But I’ve seen you with the younger maids, managing them, instructing them. You have an eye for detail and getting things done well. I believe that you are very suited to this position,” Tarian urged.

  Deirdre stayed silent for a moment, staring into the glowing fire. Tarian held her breath when the servant turned back toward her. “Give me a few days, my lady. I need to pray about this. If I take the job, I want to do it well and that will take commitment on my part,” she explained.

  Tarian nodded a little reluctantly. I wish she’d agreed right away. ‘Twould have made my heart rest a little more easily. “Alright,” she said aloud. “May I return in a few days’ time for your answer?”

  “Aye, a few days, my lady.”

  Tarian smiled and rose to go. Suddenly, she decided to act upon something she’d desired but been afraid to do. ‘Tis only fear that holds you back. A fear of man that is sin. “Deirdre,” she spoke, “would you mind meeting with me to pray every now and then? Maybe every week?”