by S E Turner
Moira looked at them both and tutted into the air. 'Go on then, only ten minutes mind you, and then my maid has to help me with the dishes.'
'Yes ma'am, of course ma'am, thank you, ma'am.' The young man took a flagon of wine. The action didn't go unnoticed by Moira, and he practically bowed all the way backwards while Asher did her best to seal her hair in place .
'Will you sit dear lady?'
Asher looked at the wet grass and tilted her head.
'It's okay, I have a blanket.' He whipped the rug from under his arm and laid it on the ground.
She smiled at him. 'What is your name?'
'I am Dom, Squire Dom... and you?'
'I am Asher, maid Asher,' she laughed.
'I see that you have only been here for a few months... and I have watched you every day from afar.'
She brought up her knees to her chest and dipped her reddening face. He took a swill of wine—she refused the offer.
'How long have you been here?'
The conversation took the edge off her blush, as he took his gaze elsewhere.
'Over a year now.'
'What happened?'
'I was out with my master, we had ventured further than we normally do.' He shook his head at the memory. 'We were hunting game when we were caught. It was so awful. About a dozen soldiers descended on us. We didn't stand a chance. They didn't even ask us who we were. To them we were poaching and had to be punished. So we were taken to the Hall... and given this...' He showed her his branding.
'I have one of those as well,' she showed him her mark. 'But we weren't on anybody else's land, we weren't doing anything wrong at all. I was in the fields collecting vegetables for the evening supper. The mistress and her brother had just returned from a day out, we were all excited to see them return. Then our homestead was attacked. The master's son was killed, the homestead was burned down, it was awful, truly awful.' A tear ran down her face at the memory of Vlavos.
Squire Dom wanted to put an arm around her, but saw Moira watching him with intense eyes. So he abandoned any thought of comforting her. He offered her the wine, again it was refused, so he took her share as well. 'You poor thing. It's such a wretched business all of this. My master is in the mines, goodness knows what it is like in there. I think of him every day.'
'Yes, my master is also in the mines. My mistress—Saskia Von Aiden, is imprisoned somewhere in the stone palace.'
Squire Dom shook his head. 'It seems that when one person achieves status, those without it seek to destroy. Envy is a most grotesque poison. It seeps into men's hearts and turns them into monsters.'
Asher was silent, thoughtful for a few moments. Squire Dom continued his line of thought.
'People have traded for years across the kingdoms. Hezekiah is envious of that power and wealth. So rather than working with us, he seeks it only for himself; and in doing so, is ripping the heart out of the lands.'
'You seem to know so much, have you spoken to the other people here?' She played with a strand of hair.
'I have slowly introduced myself, and know that everyone is in the same situation. The masters are in the mines, the workers are in the fields.' He took another swig. 'They all feel the same way. Tired of the guards watching them from every angle. Fearful which prisoner is going to take the next beating.' He bit his bottom lip .
'Has anyone tried to escape?' she asked quietly.
'Not that I know of. It's far too risky.' He looked around at the ten foot high fence. 'I thought that my master might have been able to buy his way out. He is a very powerful lord.'
'Maybe he has paid the guards to ignore you. You seem able to wander about freely—unlike my friend Tiller.'
'I know, I have seen the treatment he gets, but maybe that is why I can move about freely—the guards are too occupied watching him.' His voice was low.
Asher swallowed the lump in her throat.
'What is your master's name?' She asked.
'Lord Eryk of Condor Vale; a very influential man.'
'Yes I have heard of Condor Vale, and your master. In fact, that is where my mistress and her brother had been on the day our homestead was attacked.'
'Well, it would have been his son, the young Viscount Mattius who took the salute on that occasion. Without His Lordship there, Lady Matilda would have expected her son to sit with her.'
Asher tried to conjure up the image in her mind.
'It sounds such a grand occasion.'
'It is Asher, it is wonderful, and I hope that one day, when we are back in our homesteads, that you will join me at Condor Vale, and be my guest at the summer fair.'
'I would like that very much.' She imagined herself at the Vale. 'Can you describe the palace to me.'
Squire Dom sat back, pleased to share his life with his new found friend. He took a swig of wine, and began to detail his former life .
'Condor Vale is a sprawling creation, covering a hundred times more ground than this place.' He jutted out his chin as he surveyed the ragged domain. 'It has lakes and rivers that are stocked with fish, and outbuildings so large they can hold an entire community. The stables house a thousand horses, its granary is the size of twenty sheds here, its towers reach up high into the clouds, and stairs and corridors go on for miles.'
Asher was spellbound as the Vale took shape in her mind.
'But the most cavernous room of all is the Great Hall, with its tapestried walls, ornate ceilings, huge hearths, carved oak doors, pillared surrounds with endless steps up to the royal dais. It is the most amazing place. I remember how the Great Hall was alive with celebrations on Viscount Mattius' birthday. Its the most celebrated custom of the year, for the sole heir. '
He paused, momentarily, because if he tried hard enough he could conjure up the noise, the colours and the smells that surrounded the inhabitants on that joyful occasion. He remembered how Lord Eryk would hail the finest musicians to play in the Minstrels Gallery, and order the best jugglers and acrobats to tumble their way round the room; displaying fantastic feats of artistry. Colourful clowns and dazzling illusionists would mesmerize everyone with their skilful displays and magic tricks. Dancing bears and birds of prey would be brought in to entertain the revellers. Birdcages full of fine specimens trilling out their delightful tunes were placed round the room .
The kitchen cooks and pantry maids would prepare the most exquisite dishes; pulled pork and roasted chestnuts, boiled grouse and blueberries, pit roast pheasant and cranberries, sweet pies, tarts and cakes, all served on hand engraved silver platters, and all washed down with the finest wines in solid silver chalices. There would be banners and flags hanging from the intricately carved oak supports, displaying the magnificent coat of arms; and thousands of lanterns positioned on the slender marble pillars to mark each day of the Viscount's entrance into the kingdom.
He was deep in reverie as Asher tilted her head. 'What would his Lordship and Ladyship wear?' she was intrigued to know.
'They would always wear their purple robes and medallions of office; the black condor on a gold background. Her Ladyship would wear the diamond tiara that had been in the family for generations, and the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.'
'And the Viscount?'
'The same, but smaller versions—and there he would sit, on the raised dais, at the head of the hall, greeting the guests; the aristocracy, the nobles and the gentry.'
The image evaporated into the soft light and brought him back to the present; because now he was a prisoner. His master was somewhere in the mine, and he was here, surrounded by guards and encircled with bared wire fences.
Asher's voice brought him out of his sadness.
'What about the summer fair? '
A smile flickered across his lips. 'It's a tradition that we have every year. Communities come from far and wide to sell their wares, as you probably already know, but there are also tournaments and competitions; like jousting, the tug of war, boxing matches. It is all great fun.'
She smiled in
reverie. 'Those from Aiden Hall, who attend it every year, say how marvellous it is.'
He nodded in approval. 'It really is, and then theres the pageantry and the prizes at the end of the day. It is truly spectacular.'
'It sounds amazing Squire Dom. I do hope one day to come with you.'
A light rain was falling now, beading on the surface of the blanket. They hadn't even noticed.
'Please call me Dom,' he asked.
'Of course I will,' she smiled and then caught sight of Moira, beckoning her back.
'I must go now Dom, Moira will be cross with me.'
'Can I sit with you again Asher?' He held out his hand to help her to her feet.
She turned her cheek to take a kiss.
He duly obliged.
'Of course you can, but only if you tell me further tales of Condor Vale.'
'I would love to.' He bobbed his head up and down.
He rolled the blanket up and put it under his coat. His hat was placed back on his head, and he tipped it in a courteous manner.
Moira rolled her eyes as the man put the flagon back on the table; but was pleased to see the young girl smile again.
He lifted his hat to Moira and retreated with a bow.
'Cheeky so and so,' she thought to herself. But there was something about him that she liked, so she nodded back and grinned.
Chapter Eighteen
She woke up and noticed a moth on her window ledge. It was flapping its beautiful wings in an effort to get out. She drew back the sheet carefully and swinging her legs out of bed, put her cold feet to the floor. She stood up and steadied herself as she did so. Her body ached all over and she had to sit down again quickly. She looked at her hands, they were bruised and would take days to heal. She lifted up her sleeves to reveal mottled arms; her legs were a patchwork of different colours as well. She wasn't that different to the moth she thought, with a body that resembled a rainbow of colours and a will that was fighting to escape.
She stood up again and stretched out her limbs. The moth, aware of movement, started to flutter again. It could sense her, it could hear her breathing, it was aware of warmth now. She balanced lightly on the balls of her feet, each movement made her wince with discomfort. Every step used a different muscle that was twinging and screaming for her to stop .
How had this one got in she thought. It was too dark in there most of the time. And at night she closed the toplight so they wouldn't get in. Lured by the light, she had learned to do this back at home.
If she was reading by candlelight she could see them hitting the window. Big ones, like bats would crash against the pane and make her jump. Smaller ones would weave up and down the impenetrable glass like ragged shadows escaping the dark. She watched them all, attracted to the light, fearful of the gloom, terrified of the monsters outside who preyed on them.
And then in the day light, they frantically tried to get out again. These beautiful creatures that undergo metamorphosis, one of nature's most breathtaking processes. The most incredible insect, unlike any other, has four stunning transformations in their lifecycle. How could this amazing creature be afraid?
She could see it tiring, it was sensitive to the changing environment. How long did a moth live for?she thought to herself. Vlavos had told her that some only live for a week as an adult. All that effort for such a little time.
She approached it slowly.
For the moth, it looked like the end.
Two stone walls pressed close on either side of it, and the insect clung on to the blank window pitifully, desperate for freedom on the other side. When she was a foot away, it started to flutter again. The colours in the wings became a blur, and looking more like her sore bruised limbs. It scaled the window pane and back again in a futile attempt to escape. Eventually, it hunched itself into the crevasse of a stone .
One more step, that's all it needed from her.
To the moth, she must have looked like a monster, with huge eyes and jagged teeth; a hideous ogre that was about to devour it in one go. Something that was much more terrifying than anything it would face outside. She could almost hear its heartbeat now, she could feel its fear, she could see it twitching, unsure what to do; predator and prey. And to the moth, death was a moment away.
She opened the window and the moth took a courageous leap onto her hand, then on to her finger. The monster was still there, but its fear had gone. Freedom was worth the gamble.
Saskia held it there for a moment and admired the breathtaking beauty, the power of nature, the artistry of camouflage.
'Off you go little moth, go spread your wings. Take flight into the unknown. You are fearless really aren't you.'
The moth opened its magnificent wings and took to the air.
'Enjoy your freedom little one, and watch out for the monsters.'
Chapter Nineteen
The plains stretched out for miles, a vast expanse that reached to the distant horizon and beyond. Here, the hills and mountains morphed together as one, and the forests, and tall whispering grasses, swayed in the nocturnal breeze of a twilight air.
For the past few months, everyone in the fields had been busy with the harvest and the preparation of winter. The animals had been brought down from the slopes, the orchard trees had been stripped of their fruit, which was then stored ready to be made into wines. Fish had been taken from the lakes, and honey taken from the hives. When the stores had been filled, there existed a short time of contentment between the vibrant tones of autumn and the harsh brutality of the winter. On this fine evening, the gold and scarlet rays of the setting sun, shone brightly over the camp, and brought a welcome glow to the otherwise piteous environment .
He stood in the queue of workers, waiting in turn for their supper. He was talking to Winta, his dearest friend.
'It's so green,' she said.
'It really is,' said Tiller following her gaze. 'Look at all those grasses out there, and they are already beginning to change colour.'
'So beautiful. I always like this time of year when the colours change to gold and bronze.'
'And the chill in the mornings. That's always embracing, to see the cows breath rising in the fields.' He felt for her hand and knitted his fingers in hers. They held the moment, reliving happier times.
His voice dropped very low to a whisper, and he leaned in to her. 'I love you Winta.'
'I love you too,' she answered back.
'I should have married you years ago.'
'Wouldn't have made much difference here though would it.' Her face looked sad.
'We will get out of here, and when we do, we will get married and we'll have a huge celebration and invite everyone to our nuptials.' His voice got louder with each added detail.
She laughed at his enthusiasm and reached up to kiss his cheek.
Everyone noticed their happiness and smiled.
Except Yurg.
'Tiller come here!' He demanded.
'Oh no, what have I done now?'
'You laughed,' said Atilus wearily. 'You know that you are not allowed to show any emotion other than fear. '
'Don't go to him Tiller, ignore him.' Winta was anxious.
'I can't ignore him. He watches everything I do as it is. I can't anger him any further.'
'He has beaten you up five times in as many months though.'
'I know... I am getting used to it now.'
The rest of his party wanted the ground to open up. Or some terrible catastrophe that would swallow Yurg in one go. No one wanted to witness another beating. And Coben was nowhere to be seen.
'I said come here boy, how much longer are you going to keep me waiting?' His voice was raised.
Tiller hunched into submission as he walked towards Yurg, he saw the bullwhip itching in his hand.
'How many times do I have to tell you not to talk in line?'
'But it's the end of the day. I have done all my work.'
Yurg pulled back his arm and delivered a heavy backhander to the young man's fac
e. Tiller staggered from the brutal blow but managed to remain standing.
'How dare you answer me back with such an insolent tone.'
'I wasn't being insolent.' Tiller was still reeling from the swipe and struggled to speak.
Another blow knocked his jaw from under him and he crashed to the ground.
'No! No! Stop!' Winta ran out of the line and tried to get to Tiller. She was held back by the other brute of a guard.
'Let him go! Leave him!' she screamed out loud .
'Get that woman out of here before she gets my fist in her mouth.' Yurg spat out his rhetoric.
Moira came forward to lead Winta away from the punishment.
Tiller was cowering on the floor.
A boot crushed his ribs. He doubled up in pain. He tried to stand up but the boot engaged with his jaw again.
'Sadistic bastard,' seethed Moira. 'He's getting pleasure from this.'
'I can't watch,' sobbed Winta. 'Why are they doing this to him? We were only chatting and laughing.'
'I don't know my love. I cannot tell you what goes on in the minds of these kind of brutes. I just can't tell you.'
Tiller stood up defiantly. His jaw looked broken. His ribs were undoubtedly fractured if not cracked.
'Now then, when I see you next time, will you be talking in line?'
'No, I won't.' His swollen mouth couldn't say the words properly. Bloodied dribble ran down his chin.
'I didn't hear you,' seethed Yurg between gritted teeth.
'No, sir, I won't talk again.'
Because if I see you talking again, I will see that as disobedience. I will see that as defiance. And I don't like defiance. Do you understand?'
'Yes I understand.'
'Yes I understand—what?'
'Yes I understand, sir.'
Yurg gestured for him to join the queue again, but Tiller went on by.
'What's the matter, aren't you hungry? '
Tiller turned round. His face was a bloody mess from the vicious fist. He could barely see from his puffed eyelids. His head was swimming and he couldn't breathe properly. So he stooped to lessen the pain.