by Matt Heppe
And what would she find here in Salador? Would she be a lady again—the mother of a great duke? She had often imagined returning to the life of a Saladoran lady, but had always just thought it a fool’s dream. She loved Hadde and the other villagers of Long Meadow. They had treated her with nothing but kindness, but they were so different. And they all worked as hard as peasants.
Fifty or so villagers lined the road leading to the keep’s gates. It seemed to be the entire population of the village. The Wasting had taken its toll on this village, just as it had on so many others. The outlying farmers’ crofts had the air of having been abandoned, if not collapsed outright.
The villagers stared at Maret and the children as they passed. She heard their murmurs, as well as open surprise at the state of the mercenary company. Clearly the soldiers had cut a more handsome appearance when they had departed two weeks earlier. That and the fact they had lost half their strength.
Maret bit her lip as they approached the keep’s gate. The gate towers were not particularly tall, in truth quite low when compared to the Great Keep of Sal-Oras or even her father’s keep. But then again, the Great Keep had fallen into a charred pile of rubble, and her father’s keep… she had no idea what had become of it, or him. He was an eternal now. Hadde had seen him, although it was hard for Maret to imagine it.
A stream-fed moat surrounded the keep. It appeared shallow enough to walk through, much silted up through the years. To her right, at the corner of the keep, a tower and part of the wall had fallen into the moat. Most of the stones had been cleared, but many remained partially submerged. The damage had not been repaired, the breech instead sealed by a wooden palisade.
The horses’ hooves clattered as they passed over the drawbridge, through a short tunnel, and into the keep proper. The bailey was quite large given the small size of the village and the castle itself. The largest structure, the fortified manor, stood opposite the gate. It was only three stories tall, and clearly built for war, not comfort.
To Maret’s left stood a large, two-story stable and storehouses. To her right were workshops for the keep’s artisans. Nothing special, Maret thought. She had been in many a baron’s fiefdom when traveling with her father in her youth. Before she had been sent off to the Maiden Hall. Before he had been made into an eternal. Before—
Captain Saunder startled her with a shouted order in Idorian. Immediately, men wheeled their horses until a twenty-wide line of horsemen faced him. Baron Tomar’s escorting knights and men-at-arms ignored the formation and rode for the keep. She’d lost sight of his foot crossbowmen back in the village.
“Come along, Lady Maret,” Baron Grax said. “Your time with the free company has ended.”
She glanced over at Kael and he gave her a quick smile. “I’ll bring the lad over to the keep, but then I have duties to return to. I’m sure they’ll give you a proper maidservant to help take care of the little ones.”
He nudged his horse into motion and they followed Grax to the keep.
“What Baron Grax and your captain did to us was wrong,” Maret said to Kael. “They had no right to seize us and take us from our home.”
“I—”
“But,” she said, “I only wish to say that I appreciate what you did for us. I would not have survived without your help.”
Kael smiled and waved her compliment off. “No need to thank me.” He looked down at Orlos, alert and staring at his new surroundings. “I like the wee one. And that one too, although it would please me if she cried a bit less. And you did promise to spare me if the Landomeri had come for us.”
Maret looked over her shoulder at the gate. “There’s little fear of that,” she said.
Four servants greeted them at the entrance to the keep. A groom assisted Maret as she dismounted. Almost immediately a pretty woman of middle age swept up to Maret. The woman was finely attired in a many-layered linen dress, delicately dyed in pale green and pink. Maret immediately though of her own disheveled appearance.
“I am the Lady Alma, wife of Baron Tomar. Welcome to our home. We will see to your care immediately. Please, if there is anything you desire, simply ask and it will be yours.”
Maret remembered enough of her manners to curtsey. “I am the Lady Maret, daughter of Earl Seremar.”
“I am so glad Baron Grax was able to rescue you and your child.” She paused, looking at Maret’s face and then away. “Poor thing. How horrible of them to do that to you.”
Confused, Maret wondered at what them Alma was referring to. And then she realized Alma was referring to her scars. “The Landomeri didn’t do this to me,” Maret said. “I was attacked by a Saladoran nobleman.”
“Oh, my dear child. How horrible.”
“It was, but I try not to think of it now.”
“Well, things are much better for you now. At least your child was saved,” Alma continued. “Our future duke.”
Before Maret could speak, two horsemen rode up, one a lord and the other a standard bearer. The lord dismounted and greeted Alma. “My lady, it is good to see you.” He took her hand and kissed it. The man was not particularly tall or impressive in bearing. His armor was well-worn and he had a simple arming cap on his head. But despite his personal appearance, and the rough appearance of his holdings, he smiled broadly and cast an air of contentment.
“Tomar,” Alma said. “This is the Lady Maret, daughter of Earl Seremar and mother of our future duke. She is safely rescued from the wild Landomeri.”
As she spoke, Baron Grax joined them. “It was difficult for her amongst the savages,” he said. “But she, her son, and her ward are safe with us now. No harm will come to them.”
“The western Landomeri must be so different,” Alma said. “The ones who live near us are so peaceful. How dreadful it must have been for you, Lady Maret.”
“She bore it well,” Grax said before Maret could speak out in defense of her friends. “She bore it in true Saladoran manner. Her life will be different now, for her and her son.” Grax locked eyes with Maret. “It could be so much harder. But with our support, they will never be in danger again.”
Maret flushed, wanting to speak out. But she got his message clearly. Her old life was over. And if she wanted her and Orlos’s new life to be better, she would play by Grax’s rules.
“Well dear,” Alma said, “oh my, I suppose I shouldn’t speak that way. Not to the mother of the next Earl of House Valens and Duke of the South Teren. Lady Maret, let me take you inside. You have plainly had a difficult journey.”
“It is very gracious of you,” Maret said. Lady Alma took Orlos from Kael, and with servants trailing them, led Maret up a narrow flight of stone stairs and into the keep.
The small entry hall was hung with ancient tapestries so faded the scenes could not be made out. Alma led them up two flights of stairs and into an apartment.
The chamber reminded her of her childhood home. Ancient furniture, black from hundreds of years of oiling, gleamed in the sunlight streaming through an open window.
“The room is beautiful,” Maret said. It was no lie. It was far finer than the room she had had in the Maiden Hall in Sal-Oras. Finer than she expected from what she had seen so far. She walked to the window and saw that she had a view of the bailey. It was much like King Boradin’s Great Keep, where only the highest rooms had windows and balconies. On lower floors there were only arrow slits.
“We had word that you were coming,” Alma said from behind her. “I had a bath brought up to the room and prepared for you.”
“A bath?” Maret turned, and for the first time noticed the corner of a wooden tub behind a wooden inlaid privacy screen. “You are too good to me! That is what I most want! And that bed, it looks wonderful.”
“Goose down,” Alma said with some pride.
Enna yawned and fussed in Maret’s arms. “Ah, I suppose it must wait a bit longer… the children need attending to.”
“I will call my servants. They will bathe and care for the children. There
is even a wet-nurse.”
“I, ah…” Maret didn’t know where to begin. She had nursed both children since they were born, well, Enna since she was three months. With the Wasting only just ended, Hadde had returned to her duties as a huntress. But Saladoran ladies didn’t nurse their own children. There were servants for that. She knew she should feel relieved, but she felt nothing of the sort. They were her babies. It was for her to do, not some stranger.
“If you don’t mind, Baroness Alma, I will…” Maret felt herself reddening, and was furious at herself for being embarrassed about it. “I will attend to the children’s needs. If I could only have some towels and diaper cloths.”
“Oh! Um.” Alma was clearly taken aback. “Certainly. I will call for them at once.”
Maret took a deep breath. Did she dare confront Alma with the truth of her ordeal? Would she and her husband offer her any support? And what could they even do? Grax would certainly retaliate if she tried anything. For now, she would bide her time and earn the sympathy of Lady Alma. Only when she knew where all the players stood would she take action.
“You understand,” Maret said, “when I was… with the Landomeri these children were entirely my responsibility. They did not treat me as a noble woman and I became… accustomed to their care. And the children have known no one but me. I fear they might become quite upset at a change and they have been through enough.”
“Of course! Let’s not upset the flower basket.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
In short order towels, diaper cloths, and clean clothes were brought up for the children. With the help of a servant, both children were bathed and dressed and given to Maret for feeding. Lady Alma had politely dismissed herself from the proceedings, leaving a young maidservant named Renae to assist Maret.
If the girl was surprised by Maret’s appearance or actions she had the good grace, or was well trained enough not to mention it. In fact Renae hardly spoke at all, besides enquiring of what else she could do to assist Maret.
Renae disappeared with the shallow tub they had bathed the children in and returned a short time later with a second girl. Both bore steaming buckets of hot water they added to the large tub behind the privacy screen. By this time Maret had placed both sleeping children in the chamber’s large bed.
“Will the lady need any assistance?” Renae asked.
“No,” Maret replied, “I will bathe myself. Please have my clothing laundered.”
“I will, Lady Maret. And Baroness Alma has selected a few dresses for you to wear until you have new attire made for you.”
“That is kind of her. Please send her my thanks.”
The servant girls curtsied. “I will be in the hall if you need me,” Renae said. “Please call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
The girls departed. Maret checked on the children as she disrobed. Both were sound asleep. She let her tattered clothing fall to the floor, but carefully placed her Spiridus Token on the table next to the bath. Gingerly, she stepped into the tub. Warm, but not hot. With an utterly contented sigh, Maret sank into the tub. So wonderful. And I didn’t have to do a thing.
She had bathed in Long Meadow, but it had not been the same. Her wooden tub was not this large, for one. Worse yet, she had to fill it herself. There was never enough hot water to make the experience truly enjoyable.
Next to the tub sat a short table with lavender soap, washing brushes, and tortoiseshell combs. Maret picked up the soap and brought it to her nose. Is this how Hadde felt when she came to the Great Keep the first time? After a year and a half in Landomere the luxury was overwhelming. Maret had thought she would never experience it again.
Maret slid under the water and thoroughly soaked her hair before lathering it. Late afternoon sun poured into the bailey and through her window. Hot summer air blew the curtains inward. As she washed she listened to the sounds of castle life coming through the open window. Men shouted and joked as they hammered in tent posts and cared for mounts hard pressed by their journey.
Some soldiers demanded wine and ale, but someone, she thought it was Kael, told them they wouldn’t have any until their work was done. And then someone called him a nanny, and she knew it was Kael. She couldn’t help but smile at his nickname. She couldn’t have managed the journey without him.
Journey? Capture? Which is it? She glanced at the sleeping babies. If Baron Grax remained true, she and Orlos could live well in Salador. She took a deep breath and sighed. But he won’t remain true.
Maret sank under the water again, this time to rinse the soap from her hair. She rose to catch the words, “Landomeri at the gates.”
Maret sprang from the tub, splashing water over the wooden floor. She snatched a linen towel from the privacy screen, and wrapping herself, went to the window to peer out. Ten tents had appeared since she had first arrived, and a dozen or more horses were corralled behind a rope-line near the gate.
And then she spotted a single Landomeri being escorted across the yard. As first Maret didn’t recognize her as Landomeri, as she wore trousers and a Saladoran tunic. But her long black hair and the bow she carried gave her origins away.
Not Hadde. But what had she expected? That Hadde would march through the gates of a Saladoran castle?
A man-at-arms met the Landomeri woman at the steps below Maret. Clutching a curtain to hide behind, Maret peered down at the pair.
“I must speak with Baron Tomar!” the woman said. “It is very important.”
“He has important tasks to attend to. He is not receiving visitors,” the man-at-arms said.
“He’ll want to see me and woe to you, Keth, if he isn’t told I’m here. It is about the Saladoran lady and children taken from the forest.”
Keth paused only a moment. “Very well. Come inside.”
The two disappeared into the hall. Maret stepped away from the window, wondering what news the Landomeri brought. Was it about Hadde? But why would a Landomeri woman bring news to a Saladoran noble?
Maret clutched her towel to her at the sound of a knock on her door. “Who is there?” she called as she moved behind her screen.
“It is just Renae. May I come in?”
“Come.”
Maret peeked out from behind her screen as the girl entered. “You are bathed so soon? I have some dresses for you to try while yours are mended.”
“Thank you,” Maret said.
Renae brought her a fine linen chemise, averting her gaze as she handed it to Maret. “I brought three dresses as well, lady. I hope one fits.”
All three were linen summer dresses. Maret could not imagine wool in the summer heat they were experiencing. She chose the light red dress and was pleased to find it fit well enough. Renae helped her cinch it up to improve the fit.
Maret gasped as Renae tightened the drawstrings. “It has been a while since I wore anything that fit so close. It was a wonder I could breathe.”
“It suits you,” Renae said, appraising Maret. “You look a true Saladoran lady again. At least you will once I fix your hair.”
A true Saladoran. It is what I am. She glanced at the sleeping children. It is what Orlos is as well. Each moment she spent in the keep the truth became more real to her. There would be no return to Landomere.
Maret took the golden token from the table and put it on before sitting down on a stool. The red dress complemented the gold. “A wonderful piece, lady.”
“Just a bauble,” Maret said.
Renae took a comb and began to brush out Maret’s hair. “I brought in a few summer bonnets for you to try. They all have veils that will hide your scars.”
Maret stiffened. The Landomeri never noticed her scars, or at least never made any mention of them. It would not be the same in Salador. It would be her defining feature.
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Maret said, but the words were hollow. It shouldn’t matter, should it? “But I’ve grown used to not wearing a veil.”
After
a pause Renae said, “Very well, lady. And how shall I dress your hair? The queen favors the twin loops, as you know.”
“No, I don’t,” Maret said. “I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. Landomere is a world away from court.”
“Well, lady, the twin loops—”
“It doesn’t matter. I’d rather hear of the goings on of court. What of the king and Salador?”
“King Boradin is still ill, or so they say,” Renae said as she brushed Maret’s still-damp hair. “He hasn’t been seen by any but the queen and his surgeon for over a year.”
“What? I knew he was hurt… but a year? Queen Ilana rules in his place?”
“She does, lady.”
“And Prince Handrin?”
“They say he will be a great elementar. I would so love to see magic.” The brushing paused a moment. “Do you think it’s real?”
“More real, and more terrible than you could imagine.”
“You’ve seen it? Real magic?”
Loud voices outside the window interrupted her response. Orders were shouted. Maret heard calls for weapons and horses. Was it Hadde? No, she heard no sound of alarm. But men were preparing to ride.
“Wait a moment,” Maret said. She stepped to the window, keeping out of sight.
She was just in time to see the Landomeri woman ride from the keep. Closer, Captain Saunder argued with Baron Grax. Baron Tomar stood close by Grax’s shoulder. Both noblemen’s squires struggled to arm them.
“I need your men,” Grax said. He leaned forward as he spoke, his face red.
Saunder held up his hands. “I haven’t been paid for my last contract with you, Lord Grax. I see no reason to enter another.”
“I’ll pay you a royal for each man.”
“No. We’ll take our pay and be off.”
“Dammit, man. I need them for only a quarter day at most.”
Maret glanced around the bailey. Many of Saunder’s men watched the exchange. Close by the stables four of Baron Tomar’s men-at-arms stood, fully armored, by their horses.