by Martin Owton
The next time he opened his eyes his view of the room was more conventional. He tried to sit up but found he did not have the strength.
“Thank the Lady. You’re awake at last.” Aron turned his head to the voice, the speaker was a motherly woman with a care-lined face. “How are you feeling?” She brought a plain earthenware bowl to his lips. “Drink.”
Aron drank and was surprised to find himself thirsty. He drained the bowl which she refilled from a jug and he drained it again.
“How long was I asleep?” he asked as she took the bowl from him.
“Four days. We thought we’d lost you. Now you lie quiet while I fetch milady.”
She smiled and bustled out of the room leaving Aron cringing with embarrassment as he realised that she might very well have had to wash him all over. He tried again to sit up and this time succeeded, though the effort left him feeling light-headed. The weakness in his muscles confirmed that he had been very ill.
He looked around; there was glass in the window and a faded tapestry on the wall; a small charcoal-filled brazier warmed the room. The sheets he lay on were linen, with soft woollen blankets piled on top. This was a much finer room than he had been put in first.
Feet clattered on the landing and the door opened. Lady Alice walked briskly in followed by the motherly woman.
“Thank the Lady, Glynis,” said Lady Alice. She came to Aron’s bedside and laid a cool hand on his brow. “No fever.” She smiled and Aron could see the relief on her face. “You must be hungry. I’ll have something sent up.” She turned for the door.
“Eat, then sleep. Tomorrow you’ll be stronger,” said Glynis briskly. “And make sure you drink plenty of water.”
The women left the room leaving Aron to his thoughts.
Eat! The last meal I ate put me in this state. If it was bad meat surely others would have been affected. And I’ve never heard of bad meat giving such strange dreams or making you sleep for four days. This was something else, something that seems very like poison. But who? Not the Countess surely. If the bizarre vision was true, then she had worked mightily for my recovery, and her relief seems real enough. No, there are other enemies here. Is Caldon’s arm truly so long that it can reach me even in Nandor?
A short time later two maids appeared with the promised supper tray and a small short-legged table that sat comfortably on the bed. There was a large bowl of soup, fresh crusty bread, a slab of pale cheese and a large mug of buttermilk. Aron lifted the lid of the soup bowl and realised that he was very hungry. He put all thoughts of poison to the back of his mind and tucked in.
***
“Will he live then?” asked Earl Baldwin as Lady Alice stepped into his study.
“He will, I think. He’s past the worst of it.” Her brow creased as she looked for somewhere to sit but found all the chairs piled with clutter.
“The Gods nod our way at last.” He reached for the bottle that stood on the table beside him.”
“Perhaps,” said Lady Alice gravely, “But no thanks to Peg.”
“Peg? What has she to do with this?”
“It’s the talk of the kitchens that she was carrying Marek’s child, and now she can’t be found. And Glynis found brown bonnets hidden in her bedroll.”
“Brown bonnets! Then he is indeed fortunate to be alive.” He paused a moment, bottle in hand. “He must never learn of this.”
“Why do you think that?”
“How would he ever trust us enough to join our cause?”
“And how much more would he distrust us if he found that we hid the truth from him? No, we must tell him and he will trust us all the more.”
Earl Baldwin stared at his wife and shook his head.
“Are you sure? We must have him. He’s the finest swordsman I’ve ever seen.”
“I will take care of it. You see to it that you have a plan worthy of him.”
“Oh I will. With him at my side how can we fail?”
“At your side? Baldwin, you will not be going to Sarazan.”
“It’s what father would have done.”
“I have no doubt it is,” Lady Alice said tartly. “But you are not your father. Besides the risk to Nandor is too great. What would become of us if we lost you and Maldwyn? No, it must be someone else. Thalon. He is a proven man and a seasoned warrior.”
“And there is no-one I would trust more, but he is too old for this. It needs a younger man. Tancred.”
Lady Alice pursed her lips in displeasure. “Certainly he’s young, but he’s completely unproven.”
“Then let him prove himself. I don’t doubt his valour, and with this Darien lad to advise him he should do well enough.”
Lady Alice frowned but said nothing.
***
Aron woke to the ringing of the morning bell. Cautiously he eased himself out of the bed and stood on the floor. To his great relief, he was able to stand and, though he was unsteady, he managed to walk to the window. Outside the castle was waking up to a damp grey morning. Hearing footsteps on the landing outside his door, he hurried back to his bed before Glynis came into the room.
“Awake? Good. You’ve got a much better colour,” she said. “No headache?”
Aron shook his head. “No.”
“And hungry I’ve no doubt. I’ll send up a tonic with your breakfast, make sure you drink it all.” With that she was gone.
A short time later a shy maidservant brought up a tray of breakfast. There was fresh bread, cold meat and more of the pale cheese and a tall mug of something warm, dark and bitter-tasting. After a deep breath, Aron took a mouthful of the tonic and, to his relief, found it wasn’t as bad as he had feared. I’ve passed evenings drinking worse ale than this, he thought and finished the mug in three draughts before turning his attention to the food.
Outside the rain fell steadily. Aron put aside the tray and lay back on the pillows. I really don’t mind staying in bed today. The beat of the raindrops on the stones of the keep lulled him to doze. He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept when more footsteps sounded on the landing. He sat up with a start and had just about blinked the sleep out of his eyes when Lady Alice came into the room, a troubled look on her face.
“Good morning,” she said, her tone much more formal than yesterday. “How are you this morning? I hope you slept well.” She paused and looked distractedly out of the window. “I fear we cannot expect much of the day. My maid tells me it will rain until nightfall.”
“I slept well, thank you my Lady,” said Aron. “I feel much stronger today.”
She turned to face Aron and he knew that she was about to say something of great importance. “I must tell you of the shame of Nandor. Your illness was nothing natural. I believe you were poisoned, and by one of our household. This morning a fisherman found the body of one of the kitchenmaids in the river. Her name was Peg. She was Marek’s lover. The kitchen gossip says she was carrying his child.” Aron thought about the wild-eyed maid; was she Peg?
“We searched through her things and found some mushrooms. They’re called brown bonnets. They grow in the woods and everyone knows them to be poisonous. She was seen to be cooking something the evening you dined with us. Those that eat them suffer as you did; they usually die.”
Lady Alice, her face grave, stood by the window waiting for his reaction. Only her hands, clasped in front of her, betrayed her tension.
Aron felt a momentary stab of sympathy for wild-eyed Peg, too young to know any better, another victim of Big Marek’s fondness for a fight.
“It was not of your doing, my Lady, and you have shown me nothing but kindness,” he said and watched her face relax into a relieved smile. “And now thanks to your kindness, I think I am well enough to get up today.”
“It will be a quiet day around the castle with the weather as it is. I’ll send a maid to get your clothes. We must have you decently covered.”
Aron looked around the room and realised that his cloth
es were nowhere to be seen. He started to put the sheet up to cover himself, but then stopped as he realised the stupidity of his action. Lady Alice smiled at him in amusement and, after a moment, Aron smiled too.
“I shall send my ladies to entertain you. Be careful that you do not overtire yourself.” She said and still smiling left the room.
A few moments later a maid appeared at the door with Aron’s clothes and deposited them with a giggle on the end of the bed. Aron dressed and made an attempt at tidying his hair. When he opened the door the maid was standing on the landing. Her mischievous smile made him wonder if she’d been watching through a crack.
“My Lady said I should look after you sir, and take you to the parlour.”
Aron walked a few paces and then accepted her offer of an arm to support him as they made their way down the dimly-lit stairs. At the foot of the stairs he was caught by a sudden feeling of shyness. The women he’d grown up around had been cooks, serving maids and the like, not the daughters of the nobility. He thought about asking the maid to take him back to his room but by then they had reached the door. Feeling awkward, he followed the maid into the parlour.
The room was small and snug, hung with tapestries and a cheerful fire burned in the grate. The Ladies Celaine and Edith sat on stools before the fire with sewing baskets at their feet. Both stood up with welcoming smiles as Aron came in. Glynis came forward to take his arm.
“It’s good to see you up on your feet,” she said. “Come and sit down here by the fire.”
“Everyone’s been so worried about you,” said Celaine. “We were all praying for you.”
“All of us,” said Edith, her blue eyes shining. She was slightly shorter than her sister, Aron noticed, and her blue woollen gown showed signs of having been darned in several places.
Glynis guided Aron into a comfortable chair. “Now ladies, what shall we do? It would be very dull to watch Lady Edith unpicking her embroidery. Do you play cards, young man?
“I do know some card games,” Aron said, thinking that the games he had learned from the soldiers of Darien would be most unsuitable for playing with nobly-born girls.
“That’s settled then. Bring the cards, Edith.”
Edith produced an ornate wooden box from a shelf behind the hangings and they settled down beside the fire around a low table. Edith dealt out the cards and the game began.
Glynis, Aron learned, was very good at cards, and he was glad that no coin was involved. Her lined homely face betrayed nothing of her thoughts and she won consistently. Lady Edith was quite the opposite; she was reckless and flighty, taking great delight in the few hands she won and teasing Aron when he lost. Lady Celaine was quieter than Edith and a cautious player, but as the afternoon passed her reserve melted, she smiled sweetly at Aron and sometimes glanced at him with the same dangerous blue eyes as her sister.
As the afternoon stretched into evening and the candles were lit Aron began to grow weary.
Glynis caught his eye and frowned. “Bedtime for you, young man.”
“Oh no. Not yet,” cried Edith. “Can’t he stay for dinner?”
Aron yawned widely and the argument was settled. The cards were put away and, after bidding the girls goodnight, Aron made his way back up to his room. He undressed and climbed into bed; his mind filled with mischievous smiles and sparkling blue eyes, and was asleep before the maid arrived with his supper tray.
CHAPTER 5
The ringing of the morning bell again woke Aron. He walked to the window and was relieved to find he was much steadier on his feet than yesterday. Outside the sky was grey with cloud but it was not actually raining. He dressed slowly, wondering what the day would bring. His stomach reminded him that he’d missed supper last night. He pulled on his boots and cautiously made his way down the stairs to the main hall, where a handful of people sat at breakfast. Aron did not recognise any of them. He helped himself to fresh bread and white cheese and sat down to eat on his own, conscious of being looked at.
He had just finished and was on his way out when Lady Celaine walked in. She smiled sweetly at him. “Good morning, Aron. I trust you slept well,” she said.
“I slept very well, thank you,” Aron replied politely, trying not to grin like an idiot.
“My sister and I did so enjoy our games yesterday,” Celaine said and stepped closer.
Aron caught the tantalising scent of sweet roses. And which games did you enjoy most? The cards or the flirting? he thought.
“It would please me if you would walk with me this afternoon.” She looked up to give him maximum benefit of her blue eyes.
Indeed it would, thought Aron. It would also annoy Edith, I’ll wager. He was not best pleased with the prospect of being a toy for sisters to fight over, but a refusal would definitely seem churlish.
“If my duties permit, I would be honoured,” he said, half-hoping that duty would not permit.
Duty approached in the person of Captain Thalon. He nodded briefly to Celaine. “Milady.” Then he turned to Aron. “I heard you’re well again,” he said, with no trace of sympathy. “Are you fit enough to be useful?”
“If nothing too vigorous is involved then I believe so, Captain.”
Thalon frowned at him as if he suspected Aron of malingering.
“Training,” growled Thalon. “I know you can beat them, now I want to see if you can teach them. Not too testing for you, is it?”
“I should be able to manage,” said Aron. He nodded to Celaine and was rewarded with another mischievous smile and blaze of blue eyes before she turned to walk away. Thalon grunted impatiently and Aron fell in beside him as they set off for the practice ground.
None of the soldiers looked pleased to see them, and they took their time when the Captain formed them up in two ragged ranks.
“Right. Pay attention,” he bellowed. “The last practice session showed you up as a sorry bunch of clowns, so we’re going to work on your basic bladework. You will listen to Aron and you will do what he says.” There was a mutter of dissent from the ranks. “Silence. Does anyone want to argue? There’s a month’s guard duty waiting.” The muttering died. “Now.” He turned to Aron. “What do you want?”
“Take two men to give me an example,” said Aron. “I’ll work from there.”
“Right.” Thalon turned back to the soldiers. “Jako and you, Vini. You were particularly poor last time. Step forward.”
The two men reluctantly came forward, picked up practice swords and stood facing each other.
“Begin,” ordered Thalon.
It took only a few exchanges before Aron intervened.
“Stop.” He stepped forward. “Your feet are in the wrong place. That means that your weight isn’t behind the block.”
He took the practice wood from one of them and demonstrated the stance just as his father had taught it to him, ten or more years ago in Darien. The soldiers looked towards Thalon as if seeking reassurance that what they’d been doing was not wrong.
“He’s in charge,” said Thalon. “Now, try it again.”
Aron handed back the practice wood and stepped out of their way. The two men resumed their practice, showing some signs of having listened.
“Better,” said Thalon. “Now, all of you. Break into pairs and practice this.”
The men did as ordered, and Aron went from one pair to another observing and correcting, the Captain’s eyes on him all the time.
Other drills followed and Aron spent the morning taking the Nandor soldiers through the basic exercises of bladework as he had been taught them, but as Marek clearly had not. Eventually Thalon called a halt.
“Enough,” he ordered. “Adequate, I suppose, 'til Tancred gets here. You’re dismissed.”
Aron caught the name, but decided that now was not the time to ask who Tancred was.
With no duty to go to after his meal, Aron was hoping that Celaine had forgotten about their walk but, as he left the barracks hall, a
maid stepped towards him.
“The Lady Celaine would speak with you, young master, if you would follow me,” she said. Aron followed half reluctantly, aware that his clothes were splashed with mud from the morning’s coaching.
The Lady Celaine did not appear to notice the mud and, in fact, seemed very pleased to see him. She had changed her gown from the morning and, Aron suspected, had put on her best and had artfully twisted a dozen pale flowers into her dark hair. She dismissed the maid who returned to the castle. Aron looked around for a chaperone, but there was no-one in sight. They do things differently in Nandor, he thought. I would certainly not be strolling alone with an Earl's daughter in the Holy City. Not if she, or anyone in her family, cared about her reputation.
“Would you like to see my herb garden?” Celaine asked demurely.
“I would be delighted,” said Aron. Celaine led the way out through the postern and a short distance away from the walls to where a stream ran through a small valley. Ahead of them was a cultivated area enclosed by a low fence.
“This was my mother’s garden, and when I was little I used to help her with it,” said Celaine. “She gave it over to me five years ago, and I’ve planted it with as many herbs as I could find would grow here. I’ve always loved growing things.” She opened the gate. “We must have a fence to keep the sheep out. They would eat everything.” Inside the fence healthy green plants flourished in neat rows, on one side in beds raised up from the surface on piles of broken rock. “The raised beds give better drainage to those plants that prefer a dry soil.”
“I don’t know much about herbs,” said Aron, walking down beside one of the beds. “What is this one?” He stopped beside a clump of knee-high plants with feathery leaves.
“That’s tansy,” said Celaine. “It’s really useful. You can cook with it in stews, make a draught for treating worms and stomach aches, and if you mix it with elder leaves, it’s really good for keeping flies away.”
“Really. I never knew,” said Aron. “What’s this next to it? It looks like a daisy to me.”
Celaine smiled at him. “That’s feverfew. It treats pain and nervousness, and next to it is costmary.” She knelt and plucked a broad leaf from the spindly plant before her. She rolled it between her fingers and held it out to him. “Smell it.”