Now, Lily focused her efforts on isolating elements she could use to make different types and colors of glass. Her glassblower was turning out excellent mirrors and colored glass window panes, and he was trying his hand at glasses, vases and small dishes. Some of his experiments worked out, and some of them didn’t. Once his results were more consistent, she would talk to her father about selling a line of glassware. As she worked, she thought about what she would call her new venture.
Earton Glass. I like the sound of that, but I’d better choose something else, just in case I have to leave Earton someday.
She reached for a glass beaker and held it over the small flame she kept burning.
Mariella Glass. That’s what I’ll call it! It sounds fancy, and it uses my middle name.
Her mirrors were already selling for extravagant prices. She would have like to make bigger, better mirrors, but the largest they were able to turn out was two feet square. Even that was unbelievable for the nobles in her new world, who had only ever seen themselves reflected in polished sheets of metal.
Lily had other, more far-reaching plans for her glassworks—reading glasses, or even a simple telescope, like the one Galileo came up with.
With Helke’s expert assistance, she had her first prototype lens by mid-winter. Of course, she had an unfair advantage: she already knew about the optical axis and how light bends. Lily felt confident that she would soon have a working telescope. Better yet, she was inspired by the work the blacksmith and the glass blower were doing with their new apprentices. They were already moving beyond what she had taught them and discovering new ways to create useful objects out of glass and metal. It pleased Lily to think that, even when she was gone, her knowledge would live on in this new world.
Lily’s other project was printed books. She had already had success making paper: it was grayish green, but definitely paper. Now, she just needed someone to invent a printing press, and she modestly chose herself for the role.
She had asked her craftsmen to come up with some kind of board that could hold letter squares. Meanwhile, the blacksmith was busy making the squares while Lily tried out various kinds of inks in her laboratory. They would soon be ready to print their first text, which the countess had already chosen. Ativerna’s first printed words would be an excerpt from the Life of the Radiant Marialla. It was a short piece, just ten lines long, in which the holy woman recounted her life before she was visited by the spirit of Aldonai.
Lons Avels and Pastor Vopler were the only other people who knew about the planned printing press. While Lons was too shocked by the project to say a word, Pastor Vopler realized what opportunities a printing press would give the church. As he listened to the countess explain that paper could be made cheaply from hemp and other plants and that a mechanical printing press would reduce the cost of producing a text to almost nothing, he felt the tears come to his eyes.
“My Lady, just think…”
“Yes, pastor. The word of Aldonai will be found in every home. People will be able to read the lives of the radiant ones, the better to imitate them!”
The man sighed and clasped his hands. “My Lady, I believe you must be one of the radiant ones! Such an undertaking!”
Lily looked away, embarrassed. To be honest, she was more concerned about promoting literacy and earning money. The printing press stood to make her a fortune, and Lily had no intention of sharing her profits. If she couldn’t reach an understanding with her husband, she would strike out on her own, with her father’s support.
I’ll found a publishing house that will still be around three hundred years from now!
She knew that she would need a title of her own if she separated from her husband. Expert lacemaking alone was not enough to earn her a title, though. She would have to make herself ever more valuable to the king. Paper, printed books, glass, mirrors… Those were the inventions that would keep her safe.
The countess had been very careful who she shared her experiments with. So far, no one had seen her recipe for making paper, which she had perfected using a blend of nettles, hemp, linen, and hay. Only the blacksmith and the glassblower knew how mirrors were made, and she had explained to them that they would live safer, healthier lives if they kept quiet about all they knew.
Chapter 6
A Visitor Arrives
Rolf Relamo observed Earton Castle from a hill not far away. The castle shone like a diamond on that bright winter morning, in opposition to everything he had been told about the place. What surprised him the most was the glass he could clearly see sparkling in the windows. Glass windows were an incredible luxury because of their extreme fragility How can a mere countess living in the middle of nowhere afford to have colored glass in all of her windows?
Rolf slung his lute over his shoulder and started to make his way down from the trees. He had given much thought to how he ought to present himself to the castle guards. Merchants were rare enough in those parts, and he suspected they might not let him in. A soldier might not be welcome, either so he had decided to arrive in the guise of a traveling minstrel.
***
As it turned out, the guards had no intention of letting in a traveling minstrel. When Rolf presented himself at the gate, they looked at him darkly and told him he wasn’t going anywhere until their commander questioned him. Rolf sat down on his bag and prepared to wait, but he didn’t have to wait long. Soon, the gates opened and four people on horseback rode out. He looked up and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the horse that led the others. A purebred Avarian, it stepped carefully on slender legs, the muscles under its fiery red coat rippling in the sunlight. It seemed proud to carry its rider, and Rolf could see why: the woman on the Avarian was a vision of beauty, with thick golden braids hanging down her back and a scarlet cape trimmed with white fur.
Rolf leaped up and gave a low bow, but in his haste, he slipped and fell face-first in the wet snow. He expected to hear laughter, but there was none. Instead, the vision of beauty nodded to her guards, and they helped Rolf stand and brushed off his clothes.
Then, the vision spoke. “Who is this man?”
Her voice fit her appearance, low and warm, from deep in her chest.
“R-r-olf Relamo,” he stuttered. Then he whispered, “My Lady?”
Lily smiled. “Yes, I am the Countess of Earton. What brings you to my castle?”
For an instant, Rolf couldn’t remember why he was there. Then he focused his thoughts and remembered his story. “My Lady, I am a traveling minstrel, a man of songs and stories. My wandering brought me to Earton.”
“That’s a long walk,” she replied coolly, and her green eyes were expressionless. Rolf generally considered himself a ladies’ man, but his charms had no power over the countess. He took no offense, however.
“We walk until our legs give out, My Lady. We sing songs, and people feed us.”
“Us? How many are you?”
“I’m alone, My Lady. I parted ways with my companions several days ago.”
He could tell the countess was deciding whether to invite him to the castle or send him to the nearest village when a voice piped up behind her.
“Mama, I want to hear his songs!”
Lily turned to the girl and smiled. He suspected she did not spoil the child, but tried to give way in small matters. “Fine. We will see about having some songs.” Then she turned to the guards. “Have him wait here until Leis can speak to him. We will take our ride and decide what to do with him when we return.”
Miranda’s face shone. “Will you read me a book when we get home?” She was still young enough to believe that one yes could be turned into a string of yeses, Rolf observed.
“Of course. We will read together after our ride.”
Then Lily touched her reins, and all four riders moved off down the road.
The Avarian stallion carried his rider down the snow-covered road toward the forest. Lily noticed that there were no footprints on the fresh snow. The minstrel must have arriv
ed at the castle from over the fields.
Why? What is he up to?
Lily felt she was getting paranoid, but she also felt that someone was watching.
***
For the next half an hour, Rolf was very sorry that he had come to Earton. The castle guards felt the same way. When Leis Antrel arrived at the gate, he raked them over the coals for allowing a stranger to approach the countess. Rolf realized from a few things Leis said that there had been an attempt on the countess’ life. He pricked up his ears but learned nothing else. Soon, it was his turn to catch Leis’ wrath.
“You! Where are you headed?”
“I just wander the villages, sir, wherever people will feed me in return for a song.”
“Where were you before you came to the castle?
“I was east of here. I got lost in the woods, and when I came out on the hill, I saw the castle.”
Lons eyed the minstrel’s small bag. “What did you eat while you were lost?”
“I had some bread and dried fish, and I caught a rabbit or two,” he looked up at the captain of the guards with what was almost a grin. “If you chase me off, at least give me some dry bread. That will last me until the next village…”
Rolf was a convincing liar, and his thin frame and hollow cheeks gave an air of truth to what he said. No matter how much he ate, he had always remained skinny. He could tell Leis felt his dishonesty but couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Finally, Leis told the guards to let the minstrel in and show him to the servants’ quarters for a bite to eat.
He turned to Rolf, “If my men find you anywhere but the servants’ quarters, they’ll snap your neck.”
Rolf bowed and followed the two guards who beckoned. Out of the corner of his eye, he got a close-up view of the fine glass in the castle windows.
There was definitely something going on in Earton; he would find out what it was.
***
What he found in the servants’ quarters was even more interesting. Even the scullery windows were fitted out with colored glass that cast rainbow-colored speckles on the clean, white walls. Rolf was shocked. He could understand that the earl sent his wife money and that she probably turned around and spent it on fancy goods, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand why she would spend it on fine windows that nobody but the cook and the scullery maids would ever see.
He looked around him. The servants at Earton castle had it good. The tables and benches were solid and polished to a high shine, the floor was cleaner than what he had seen in several royal palaces, and the table was set with pewter dishes. True, it was not the finest tableware, but it was unbelievable to see anything of the sort in the servant’s mess hall. In Rolf’s experience, servants ate off wooden dishes or scooped their food with a crust of bread. The miniature pitchfork next to his plate gave him pause.
“My Lady came up with that. It’s called a fork.” whispered the buxom servant girl seated next to him. She proceeded to demonstrate by stealing a piece of fish from the supposed minstrel’s plate.
Rolf picked up his fork and gave it a try. Once he got the hang of it, he found it was better than a crust of bread for scooping up food. Even more surprising was the food—it was fresh fish, roasted with just the right amount of salt and other spices.
He winked knowingly at his neighbor. “I think this is her ladyship’s food you’ve brought me. Will she be angry with you?”
Mary shook her head. “My Lady? Eat this food? Never! This is for the servants.”
Rolf said nothing, but he took note of Mary’s well-made clothes and rosy cheeks. He had seen plenty of servants who worked for wealthy tyrants, and Mary showed none of the signs of hunger or fear that he was used to. It was obvious that she was pleased with her lot.
His eyes went to her plump breasts and the lace flowers that adorned the neckline of her dress. All Rolf knew about lace was that it was sold by the yard for shockingly high prices, but even he could see that Mary’s lace flowers were something special. It was unbelievable, like everything else he had seen in Earton. Rolf had never even held a needle so he couldn’t tell that half of the petals on Mary’s lace flowers were misshapen practice stitches.
He wiped his plate with a piece of bread and listened as Mary praised the countess to the skies. As he chewed, he observed that the bread was real and tasty, made from flour, not the flat meal cakes that most people in those parts ate all winter. Mary told him the countess was very interested in making sure everyone ate well and had gone to great lengths to ensure sufficient stores for the winter. She hadn’t always been that way, Mary said. When the countess first arrived in Earton, she spent most of her time sitting in her room. However, after she lost her baby, everything changed.
Mary said the first thing the countess did when she was well again was fire the estate manager. Rolf was confused by Mary’s telling of the story—especially regarding whether or not the man was still alive—so he made note to ask someone else when he had the opportunity.
The second thing the countess did, according to Mary, was ride out to the market at Altver, where she sold everything she could—even many of her own dresses—to buy livestock for the estate. While she was there, she hired the Virmans, who were now in charge of catching, salting and smoking fish for the winter.
Rolf listened intently at this point, but Mary knew nothing about the actual process for obtaining salt from seawater. All she knew was that the countess was kind and generous to a fault, as long as the castle was kept clean. Once a ten night, the servants cleaned the castle from top to bottom. There was no way to get out of this ritual. If you were sick or busy, the countess still made you march.
“Why march?” Rolf asked.
“Oh, that’s just what the countess likes to say. ‘March!’”
He could see that the lady of the castle was much loved by her household. A few of the servants had sullen faces, but Rolf knew from experience that you can’t please everyone.
After eating, he made himself comfortable by the fire and played his lute for the servants as they wandered in and out. In between songs, he asked questions.
Forks?
Her ladyship had ordered a fork for herself, and the rest of the household followed her lead.
Glass?
The countess had hired a glassblower in Altver.
Lace?
Skilled dressmakers from the same trip.
The countess was rumored to spend a great deal of time in the workshop with her lace-makers, but none of the servants knew what she did there. And in general, they told Rolf, the countess was strict and frowned on unnecessary curiosity. Anyone caught loafing risked being sent to clean the privy. They all shivered as they remembered the countess’ wrath after someone had tried to kill her and the count’s young daughter.
Attempted murder?
None of them knew the whole story. They had seen the king’s envoy poking around with questions, but whatever he found out he kept to himself. Several of the servants hinted darkly that the Virmans knew more than they were saying. Leis Antrel was another privileged figure whose role the servants could only guess at. He had come to the castle as a simple soldier, and now he was captain of the guards and well paid, by the looks of it. There were even rumors that he had plans to marry one of the lace-makers in the spring.
Rolf turned the talk back to the Virmans. He learned that the locals tolerated them on threat of punishment from the countess, who took the time to resolve any disputes, however minor, involving her Virman guards.
It was not hard to get the servants to talk about their mistress, but Rolf had no way of knowing how much of what they said was true. He picked up his lute and shook his head. How long will I need to stay in Earton to separate the truth from the fiction in all the stories circulating about the countess? After all, the servants had experienced the events they spoke of gradually, while Rolf was learning of it all in one day. He strongly suspected that no woman in the world was capable of everything Lilian
Earton had done, and yet here he was, sitting in servants’ quarters with glass windows and eating good bread off pewter dishes.
How did she do it? Instead of an answer, all he had was a blend of rumor and gossip. Rolf felt lost as he sat strumming a tune by the fire. He would have to wait until he could see the countess up close again.
***
He didn’t have to wait long. A servant came down and informed him that he would be entertaining the countess and her guests at the table that evening. An hour later, he was led upstairs to a modest dining room that was pleasantly warm and comfortable. The table was set for eleven. At the head of the table was the countess. She was surprisingly beautiful, with a long, thick braid of gold hair over one shoulder and her arm around her stepdaughter. The earl’s daughter had dark hair and blue eyes, just like her father. At the countess’ end of the table sat a man in a priest’s green robe and a young boy who looked just like him. Rolf assumed the boy was the priest’s son. He bent his head over his lute as he tuned it, all the while stealing glances at the rest of the party. The captain of the castle guards was there, seated next to an elderly Khangan with piercing eyes who looked, to Rolf, to be quite learned. He noticed right away that the countess called the man “Tahir-jan,” using the Khangan way of showing respect, and that the man did the same, calling her Lilian-jan. Rolf frowned. He was widely traveled enough to know that the Khangans did not generally speak to women that way. The old scholar must see the countess as his equal. Strange and stranger!
Suddenly, Rolf recalled something Mary had said, “There is a foreign healer here who has the greatest respect for her ladyship. He says that people like her are only born once a century…”
Palace Intrigue (Medieval Tale Book 3) Page 23