by Holby Cindy
Eliane loosened Aletha’s bit and dropped the reins, sure in the knowledge that the mare would stay put. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation as she ducked beneath the arch of the door and greeted Madwyn. Llyr already lay in front of the fire and held a huge bone between his paws. His tail thumped as Eliane removed her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. Overhead, dried herbs hung from the rafters and a loom in the corner held the beginnings of a thick rug. Pelts of several small animals were stacked in a corner, just waiting to be sewn into the lining of a cloak or a pair of boots, and bread sat rising on the hearth. In the back was a huge bed, draped with curtains of deep velvet and piled high with blankets and furs. It sat against a wall covered with a huge tapestry that was so old, Eliane could not even guess whence it came. In the corner next to the window, a snowy white owl perched upon a branch that had been inserted into the daub of the wall. It stirred when Eliane came in and looked at her intently with its great golden eyes.
“I’ve brought a rabbit,” she said by way of greeting.
Madwyn smiled as she took the rabbit and placed it in a basket for cleaning. “That is not all you bring,” she said as she looked carefully into Eliane’s face. “What troubles you this day?”
“Is it that apparent?” Eliane asked. “Will I ever have any secrets from you?”
Madwyn shook her head and took Eliane’s hand in hers. “ ’Tis only because I know you so well,” she said. “Indeed, you are quite adept at hiding your feelings. It is only here that you reveal them.”
Eliane looked into Madwyn’s beautiful face and saw no judgment, only earnest caring.
“Come and sit,” Madwyn said. “Tell me of your troubles.”
Eliane sat at the well-worn table while Madwyn mixed herbs and steaming water together in thick mugs and set one down before her. “The list is long,” Eliane said. “I am not sure where to begin.”
“Begin at the beginning,” Madwyn said as she sat down across from Eliane.
Eliane took a sip of her tea and looked at the woman across from her. She was ageless. She looked the same as she had when Eliane was a child crying in her arms for her mother. Thick blonde hair streaked with silver tumbled down her back to her hips. Vivid blue eyes beneath upward-slanted brows looked at her with concern. Her face was remarkably smooth, with only a few creases around her eyes from laughter, and her hands were as fine and spotless as Eliane’s.
“I saw Gryffth’s son,” Eliane said.
Madwyn’s laugh tinkled merrily. “Is it your intent to find out the details of my midwifery?” she said in reference to one of the many roles she played at Aubregate. “Is that the first priority on your list of troubles?”
“Nay,” Eliane admitted. “It only reminded me that Gryffth wished to bring the babe for Father’s blessing. I bade him wait.”
Madwyn touched her arm to stop her. “This is one thing you do not have to hide from the people, Eliane,” she said. “They know of Edward’s decline. They will mourn his passing with great sorrow.”
Eliane nodded. “I fear they will miss him even more when they see that I am all that is left to protect them.”
“Is that what troubles you so? The responsibility?”
Eliane nodded. “I fear I am not worthy.”
“You have always known what lies ahead for you. Why does it suddenly weigh upon you so much?”
“Because of something my father said this morning.”
“What did he say?”
“He said the time has come for me to marry.” The words tumbled forth now. “Yet I do not know whom he expects me to choose. I have given him leave to choose for me, but there is no time left. There is no one handy, except for Renauld, and I would rather die than marry him. Yet the alternative is to become a ward of the king, a pawn in his political maneuvering. How will that serve Aubregate and its people?” She looked at Madwyn with hope. Hope that the other woman would have answers for her.
Madwyn gently patted her hand and sipped her tea. “Your father is a wise man,” she said. “He will make sure all is taken care of before he passes.” Her answer was not what Eliane had hoped to hear.
“Do you know something I do not?” Eliane asked impatiently. “Do you know where Han is?” She narrowed her eyes. “Papa has bade me to dress as a lady on the morrow,” she added. “Does someone come? Someone I do not know about?”
“Han is here,” Madwyn replied. “You just missed him. I am surprised you did not see him on the trail. He is on his way to the keep as we speak.”
“Because I stopped to hunt,” Eliane said. “Which led to something else. Something I must tell Han.”
“What is that?”
“I found a stranger in the forest. A very richly garbed stranger. A knight for certain, possibly even a lord.”
“A lord? Here?” Madwyn’s blue eyes widened with interest. “What happened? What did you do?”
Eliane told the tale, concluding, “I released him. I bade him find his way out if he could. Yet I feel that I should not have done so.”
“He did not discover anything. He could have been merely hunting, as he claimed. He would not know of any reason not to enter the forest if he was not of these parts.”
What Madwyn said made sense except for one thing. “I was not wearing my cap when I came upon him,” Eliane admitted.
“Oh,” Madwyn said. Eliane watched as Madwyn’s hands went to her ears. She pushed the silver and blonde locks behind the fragile peaks so similar to her own. Han possessed them too. Most inhabitants of the forest had the same ears and did what they could to make sure they were not seen by any outsiders. The townspeople and the castle folk were all used to the anomaly; occasionally the strangely formed ears would show up on the new babes born to the townspeople or crofters. None seemed to care. Everyone knew the trait was a throwback to the days of yore when all were of the forest.
Eliane’s mother, Arden, had had ears that were rounded and normal. She remembered as a child touching the curve of her mother’s ears, then her own pointed tips in wonder. When she realized that her ears were different from nearly everyone she knew, she wondered why. Why her?
The only thing that kept the gossips from questioning Eliane’s parentage was the fact that she had the same bright hair as her father, along with his temperament. It was also not prudent to bandy about rumors concerning one’s lord and benefactor.
Madwyn had reassured Eliane many times that it was not strange she had the ears. Her mother’s people had been forest folk going back more generations than she could count. Still it was difficult for Eliane to accept her difference when she realized at an early age that she was the only child in the keep with misshapen ears.
“I thought I would be safe.” Eliane shrugged as Madwyn considered her tale. “I was not thinking clearly,” she added. “It is hard for me to recall the last time I did think clearly about anything.”
Madwyn took her hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “It has been many years since any of us have run across a stranger in the forest,” she said. “You could not have foreseen it happening this day.”
“It is my responsibility to protect the forest and all within,” Eliane said. “What will happen when this strange knight returns home and tells the tale of my ears? Will others come to discover the truth of it?”
“They will more than likely think him drunk or under a spell,” Madwyn replied with a smile.
“That does not reassure me,” Eliane said. “If a spell was cast, they might come looking for the pointy-eared witch who cast it.”
“Eliane,” Madwyn exclaimed. “There are no witches about. And no need for you to worry. No one would think such a thing.”
“People condemn what they do not understand. There are those in the Church who would call us demon possessed. If they knew what lay within these borders, they would condemn it.” A tremor of fear ran down her spine. “They would kill us all and burn the forest to the ground.”
“Hush, child,” Madwyn said. “You are trying to
weave a blanket with nothing more than a thread.” She pushed the mug of tea into Eliane’s hand. “Drink. It will calm you. I will send a message to the huntsmen to look out for a strange man in the forest. If they find him still wandering about, then they can take care that he does not live to tell the tale. And if he is gone, then we will watch to see if anyone takes note of his ramblings. If he has any wit, he will keep his tales to himself so as not to damage his own reputation.”
Eliane let out a sigh of relief. She seemed to be doing that quite a bit lately. It was easy to let Madwyn solve her problems for her. She’d been doing so for most of her life. Could it all be so simple? The stranger, if found in the forest, would be killed.
A vision filled her mind. The strange knight lying facedown in the forest with his body full of arrows. The thought disturbed her for some strange reason.
“Nay,” she said. “Let him be.” She looked at Madwyn, who had already gone to the owl’s perch to send a message. “He is wise enough to find his way out and he should not have to pay with his life for my mistake.”
Madwyn smiled. “Your father has taught you well,” she said. “To recognize wisdom in others and mistakes in yourself. ’Tis the mark of a wise ruler.”
Eliane shook her head and then lowered it to the table with a thunk. “What you call wisdom others may call foolishness. You see me as a mother sees her child.”
“I see you as you are, Eliane,” Madwyn said firmly. “Do not think me so foolish as to be carried away by feelings. I have lived many years and seen many things.” She crossed over to the fireplace and peered at the bread in the oven before she turned and addressed Eliane with her hands on her hips. “The problem lies in the way you see yourself. If you see yourself as weak and ineffective, then those you are trying to lead will see the same thing. You must learn to trust your instincts just as you did this day. Something stayed your bow. Something told you not to kill this knight. You must trust that it was the right thing to do and await the day when the reason is revealed to you.”
“What if the reason is nothing more than a lustful heart?” Eliane cried out. She thunked her head upon the table once more as if she could drive the thoughts from her head. “I was weak when I gazed upon him. His face had the look of both angel and devil. He was beautiful, yet frightening, and I felt as if my body was not my own when he looked up at me.”
Madwyn’s lips lifted at the corners and Eliane waited in fear that she would laugh at her confession.
“I am sorry I missed him,” Madwyn said finally. “He sounds…interesting.”
“I feel as if a spell has been cast upon me.” Eliane hit the table again with her forehead. “See how worthless I am? How easily swayed by a handsome face?”
“Pish!” Madwyn exclaimed. “Enough of this wallowing.” She turned back to the oven and, with a cloth, reached in and pulled out two loaves. She placed them on the table before Eliane and slid the rising loaves inside. Madwyn added two short logs to the fire and turned back while wiping her hands upon her apron. “I will send word to the keep,” she said. “You will stay here with me tonight. We will soak in the spring and I will wash your hair and rub scented potions into your skin. Then we will talk of happy things.”
Eliane looked up at Madwyn, who peered down at her expectantly. Her suggestion sounded wonderful. A momentary escape from what awaited her come morning. Her father had commanded her to put away her chausses and tunic and dress as befitting a lady. He must have a reason for his instructions.
“So be it,” Eliane sighed. It was a much better prospect than continuing to beat her head upon the table. “Let us be merry tonight, for who knows what tomorrow may bring?”
Chapter Six
Finally. Renauld Vannoy waited impatiently in the audience chamber for his chance to speak to the king. For weeks he had cooled his heels, hoping to speak to King Henry about his concerns, and now that he’d been invited in, he still had to wait. Renauld knew the delay was intended to remind him that his problems were minor when compared to those of a king.
All this nonsense about Church and state…He had no patience for politics, especially when the Church stuck its long nose into the fray. As far as he was concerned, might meant right. Whoever was strongest was meant to survive. And Renauld was not above using the strength of others when his own was insufficient to his needs.
For his current task he needed the strength of a king. A king who would grant his request because of a small indiscretion Renauld had witnessed as a squire.
Renauld had learned early that it was best to walk carefully and stealthily in castle corridors. As a boy, he’d come upon his father tupping one of the serving wenches with a knife held at her throat.
When the wench slipped away, his father took out his anger upon his son, knocking him into a wall. The wench paid for her escape later that day with the loss of her tongue. She learned to stand his father’s perverted desires and Renauld learned to tread lightly when walking about the halls. He was six at the time. The lesson had served him well.
When Henry was newly crowned and drunk with the power of being king, Renauld had witnessed the king’s transgression. Henry did not want to remember, thus his reluctance to grant Renauld an audience. But Renauld had also learned the value of persistence as a small boy. He was not too proud to take a beating or two if it eventually led to what he wanted.
And Renauld wanted Aubregate. He wanted its fields, he wanted its town, and he wanted the natural harbor that lay at the base of the cliffs. He wanted the keep, the buildings, the livestock, and the vassals that inhabited the land and worked industriously for their lord instead of cheating and stealing and hiding their crops. He wanted the forest and the bountiful game that hid within its borders. He wanted the treasure that was rumored to lie at the heart of the woods.
But most of all, he wanted Eliane. He wanted her for the same reason that Henry would allow him to have her. He wanted her because he remembered. He remembered the look of disgust on her face that day he saw her watching him from the woods. What business was it of hers what he did? She was just a girl, nothing more than a child. She had no right to condemn him. Yet condemn him she did. She even came out of the forest and killed the dog with her bow. Then she threatened to kill him if she ever saw him torture another helpless animal. He was a squire, about to be knighted, and she was a child. What did she know about the ways of the world? What business was it of hers what he did on his property, with his property?
He would show her what he could do. He would wipe that look of contempt off her face as he should have done ten years ago.
When he was master of Aubregate, he would be master of Eliane. He would do what his father could not do, nor his father before him, or his father before him. All had desired Aubregate and died trying to get it. Renauld would succeed because he would have the help of the king.
“Lord Renauld Vannoy of Chasmore,” a page intoned. Renauld stepped forward and bowed.
“Milord,” he said casually. He dared much, as always. The look Henry gave him told him so.
“Come closer, Renauld,” Henry said. “It has been a while since you’ve come before me.”
“A long while,” Renauld replied. “Since you knighted me.”
Henry nodded. “It seems the years have been kind to both of us,” he said. “And you have been content…until now…”
“I live only to serve,” Renauld reminded him. “And Your Majesty has not had need of me these past years, except for the levies he requires for rebuilding. I have embraced the task of acquiring the funds that you require,” he added, omitting the fact that he’d had to threaten each one of his vassals with death to do so.
“Yes, it has been a time of peace,” Henry said.
Which to Renauld’s ears meant that if England had been at war he would have been long dead and Henry’s secret with him. He graced his king with his best smile.
“Tell me, Renauld, what brings you from your lands in the dead of winter to speak to your king?”
“My concern for my closest neighbor, Edward Chandler of Aubregate,” Renauld replied. “He has fallen quite ill.”
“I am glad to see you bear no animosity toward Edward,” Henry said graciously. “He is, after all, the man who killed your father.”
“My father’s sins are not my own,” Renauld reminded him. “Nor his enemies or his battles.”
“A wise sentiment,” Henry said coolly.
Renauld inclined his head at the compliment. “I am concerned for Edward’s daughter, the Lady Eliane.”
“You know her?” Henry asked, interest written plainly on his face.
Renauld allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. After all, he was the one who’d started the rumors about Eliane’s deformity after he’d seen her ears. It served his purpose for others to think her deformed so they would not seek her out for the riches she would surely possess someday. Someday soon. As he recalled, she was an unattractive wench even without the ears. All skinny arms and legs with bright red hair and spots on her nose and cheeks. He was sure the woman she had become would be much the same.
“We are neighbors, sire,” Renauld said. “We have been at peace all these years. I am concerned about what will become of her when her father is no longer with us.”
“You wish to offer for her?” Henry asked directly.
“I doubt her father would allow it,” Renauld said honestly. “While I bear no animosity toward him, I am afraid he still carries some for me, owing to the nature of my father’s crimes against him.”
“He truly loved his wife,” Henry said. “And he has kept his daughter close at hand.”
“Indeed, sire,” Renauld said. “To protect her. As I would protect her.” His eyes stayed on Henry, to remind him of the secret he knew, while his words were for the courtiers who listened with interest to his request. “It is my greatest desire to keep the peace of the kingdom,” he said. “And what better way to maintain it than by an alliance between two neighbors? We share a border. The Lady Eliane will soon have need of a protector and I have need of a wife. The alliance would benefit both the house of Chandler and of Vannoy, and together we would serve your kingdom well. That is, if you allow us to merge.” He concluded his plea with a bow, yet still kept his eyes upon the king, willing him to see once more the secret he’d carried for so many years.