The Forgotten Mistress: Tales of Misbelief II

by Barb Hendee

  “Leave the dishes where they are,” he said. “Come upstairs and stay with me tonight.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He started, taken aback. “No? Why?”

  “You know why.”

  Standing up, he gripped the edge of the table with his one hand. “I don’t mean… I won’t ask you to…” he trailed off and took a breath. “The apparitions appear only when I’m alone. So long as someone else is with me, they may not. I’ll sleep in the chair, Elena. I won’t touch you. Just… don’t leave me in there alone.”

  At this, it was my turn to be taken aback, and my pity for him returned. I had spent years caring for him, pulling him back from the edge, and I was convinced that he was not returning to madness. Something else was happening here.

  “All right,” I said. “Stay here a moment, and let me tell Beatrice.”

  The utter relief on his face embarrassed me. I’d never seen him afraid like this before.

  True to her character, Beatrice didn’t even blink when I told her I was going to sit up with our lord.

  “Good,” she said. “See if you can find out what’s going on.”

  So, I wasn’t the only one who wondered what was happening.

  A short while after, Stefan and I walked upstairs together, as we had done many times before, and retired to his bedroom. I didn’t lock the door. That way, if there was a problem, James could enter quickly.

  “You take the bed,” I told Stefan. “You’re exhausted. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

  Looking at me, he sank down onto the edge of the bed. “I’m seeing ghosts, Elena… They are horrible, still in the form of their deaths… sometimes headless… and they speak to me, threaten me. I’m not imagining them. They have been in this room.”

  He spoke the last with such vehemence that I believed him and couldn’t help whispering, “Oh, Stefan.”

  At my words, he flinched and held out his good hand. There was no lust in his face, only pain and fear, and I went to him, pulling his head against me.

  “I won’t leave tonight,” I promised. “I’ll stay with you.”

  As I was holding him, the door opened… and there stood Coraline.

  “What is this?” she asked, speaking directly to Stefan. “I am indisposed for one dinner, and you call a servant into your bed? What kind of man are you?”

  I froze for a few breaths, and then I let go of Stefan and stepped away.

  He stood up. “Coraline, please. She is only sitting with me as James did last night.”

  It sickened me that he was pleading with her, making excuses for himself to her. He’d never have allowed Byanka or me to question any action or decision he made.

  “I know exactly what she’s doing here,” Coraline hissed at him, and then she turned her lavender eyes on me. “Go to your room. I’ll not be humiliated in my own house.”

  For all her righteous indignation, I felt no anger or passion from her. I couldn’t help thinking that she simply wanted me out of the room. Still, she’d gone too far, and I expected Stefan to order her away. But when I turned to him, he looked stricken.

  I knew how desperate he was not to be alone tonight, but he didn’t argue with her. He didn’t say anything.

  “My lord?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Go,” he whispered to me.

  With my face flushing, I rushed past Coraline and out into the passage.

  I wanted to leave this place, for he no longer deserved my loyalty or anything else from me. And yet…

  Coraline was up to something. For some reason, Stefan appeared to be teetering on the edge of madness again, and instead of helping him, she was somehow trying to use it to her advantage. What was she after?

  I had to know.

  ·····

  That night was the same as the night before, with the household awakened by Stefan screaming. He babbled of a grotesque apparition, this one diseased with boils. Everyone in the manor was on edge, and I feared that soon the new servants I’d hired would begin to leave.

  The following morning, I walked into the village on the excuse of errands, desperate to get out of the house. The manor was situated among heavy trees a good distance from the village, down a wide path with a bridge that stretched over a creek. Still, I normally enjoyed the walk as it gave me a little much needed time to myself.

  And today, I needed time to think.

  As I approached the edge of Pudúrlatsat—which was almost large enough to be considered a town—my spirits lifted slightly. There was no darkness here, only a community that bustled again with commerce and livestock and an abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables.

  “Morning, Elena,” called Mershan, our tanner, as he headed for his shop near the river. “How are you?”

  His hands were forever red and cracked from his choice of profession, but his smile was open and sincere.

  The question somehow caught me off-guard; I didn’t want to answer but didn’t wish to lie.

  “Hungry,” I said, smiling back at him. “I’ve not eaten breakfast. Do you think Mistress Jenna will have any warm rolls left?”

  “She might, but you’d best hurry off to her shop.”

  Mistress Jenna was one of the most skilled bakers along the river… or so the crews of regular barges up and down the waters had told me. I could not say this myself for certain, as I’d only been away from Pudúrlatsat once and for only a few days. But I did know that her breakfast rolls were delicious, and so I walked the main path through the village until I reached a cheerful shop with a red and white awning and a few tables and chairs set out front.

  For mid-morning, a surprising number of people were gathered outside. Several stood up as I approached, and their anxious faces made me stop.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  An aging widow named Appicotta came to me quickly. “It is true?” she asked. “Is our lord slipping back into darkness? Has he become a danger to himself… or others… again?”

  I tensed at her words. “Where did you hear that?”

  She blinked and stepped back. I was known for my gentle disposition. Everyone at the tables was watching us, listening to us.

  “Where?” I insisted.

  “I… I think from Mistress Jenna.”

  Striding in among the others, I went straight to Mistress Jenna as she set a cup on a table, but I fought to calm both my voice and manner.

  “Jenna, where did you hear such rumors of our lord?”

  She shifted her weight uncomfortably between her feet. “Yesterday… from the new lady’s maid, Olga. It is not true?”

  “No,” I stated flatly. “It is not.”

  I knew she wouldn’t believe me and neither would anyone else here. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore, and I turned away, walking swiftly toward the river.

  Not only was Coraline doing everything possible to convince everyone in the manor that Stefan was losing his hold on reality, but now her maid was visiting the village and spreading gossip that he was a danger to himself and perhaps others.

  I was frightened for the manor… and for Stefan.

  What did anyone here know about Coraline and her father, Luciano? Had Stefan bothered to learn anything other than that they were rich?

  I knew they had a home in Enêmûsk, but that was all. My thoughts flowed and continued to return to the same word.

  Enêmûsk

  As I thought, I walked between the clusters of huts spreading along the Vudrask River to both sides of a landing where barges stopped every few days. These barges were the life-blood of commerce in northern Droevinka. Each village all along the river kept a small shed close to the landings, large enough to house at least four mules, and the villages paid for their feed and care. However, no village had the same mules for very long. These animals were necessary for pulling goods up river, so if a vessel came through with exhausted mules, the barge master was welcome to trade out for fresh ones. This system served everyone.

  Nearing the landing, I saw a f
amiliar barge in the process of docking. Three men with poles worked carefully together to guide it in. When my gaze stopped on the man who hopped to the landing to tie off, I had a moment of crystal clarity.

  I knew what to do.

  As I approached, he straightened, and his eyes locked on my face.

  “Cooper,” I said simply.

  He was about thirty years old, with a broad, slightly flat-featured face. His hair appeared to be dark brown or even black, but he wore it cropped so close to his head it was hard to tell which. He wore boots, tan breeches, and a loose shirt of faded blue. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the sinews of his hardened forearms.

  Besides Beatrice, Cooper was the only other person I considered my friend. Though stoic, taciturn, and easily annoyed, he’d once helped me when I’d badly needed help. He’d been kind to me when I’d needed someone to be kind.

  “What’s wrong,” he asked without a greeting.

  “Are you heading west to Enêmûsk?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Can I come with you?”

  He took a step back, as if caught off guard, and then stammered, “You want to leave here… and come with me?”

  I nodded. “I need to find out more about a family there.”

  This appeared to confuse him further—though I was being perfectly clear—and he shook his head.

  “What family?”

  “The family of my lord’s new wife.”

  His eyes widened. “Lord Stefan took a new wife?”

  I’d assumed he’d have heard by now, and I would have preferred not to be the one to tell him. He knew only too well of my prior relationship to Stefan. To my shame, Cooper’s face filled with pity.

  “Oh, Elena.”

  He sounded just like Beatrice. I needed no one’s pity.

  “Will you take me?” I asked.

  Still absorbing the situation, he frowned. “You’re seeking information about the bride’s family?”

  “She’s trying to convince everyone that he’s still mad, that he is a danger to himself.”

  “Is he?”

  “He was fine until she arrived.”

  At that, I could see Cooper’s face closing up. The sight was painful. Like almost everyone else, he probably thought me a jealous, jilted mistress.

  Stepping closer, I touched his sleeve.

  “Please, Cooper. There is something very wrong here, and I’m not just worried about Stefan. This woman has some kind of power over him, and I’m worried about the people in the manor and the village should she gain power over them.”

  He glanced down at my fingers on his sleeve.

  “I’m not given to fancies,” I added. “Will you take me?”

  Looking away, he sighed. “You know I’ll take you.”

  ·····

  Cooper had only a small cargo exchange to complete, so I wasted no time in running back to the manor and preparing to leave. Though I did plan on bringing a few things, I wasn’t as concerned about packing so much as whisking Beatrice off to our room and giving her careful instructions. Once we were both inside, I closed the door and told her of my plans.

  “Tell Lady Coraline that I’ve gone to Kéonsk for supplies that cannot be purchased locally. Tell her this is something I do twice a year or so. I don’t want her knowing I’ve gone to Enêmûsk.”

  Beatrice nodded but appeared worried at the prospect of me leaving. “What do you hope to find out?”

  “I don’t know, but we need to know who she is. For all her money, she doesn’t behave like a… lady. We can’t fight her blind, and all we know is that she’s trying to make everyone think Stefan is losing his mind.”

  “What do I tell our lord?”

  She and I both knew that if I told him I was leaving, he might stop me.

  “Get him alone somehow and tell him I’ve gone off for a few days to find a way to help him… as I did once before. Tell him not to say anything to Coraline—and hopefully he won’t. We both know he won’t believe that I’ve gone to Kéonsk for supplies, so it’s best to be as honest as possible.”

  I rushed over to grab my travel bag.

  “Then tell him he must give orders that James is to sleep in the chair in his room every night until I return. He must do this no matter what Coraline says. Can you convince him?”

  “I’ll try,” Beatrice answered, and when I stared at her, she straightened. “Yes. I’ll convince him.

  On impulse, I embraced her. I’d never done that before, but it was such a relief to have someone to count on besides myself.

  “You’ll be home soon?” she asked.

  “As soon as I can.”

  ·····

  By late afternoon, I sat at the back of Cooper’s barge as it drifted down the Vudrask River on a steady current. Though the vessel and cargo business belonged entirely to him, it took three people to manage the barge. His two hired men were positioned at the front with wooden poles, and their job was to keep us from drifting too near either bank. Boxes and crates of cargo were stacked in the center. Cooper stood at the back with me, gripping a long pole.

  “How far to Enêmûsk,” I asked. I’d only been outside of Pudúrlatsat once in my life, when Cooper took me upriver to Kéonsk.

  “Downriver on a good current, about two and a half days or less, depending on how many stops we make,” he answered. “But the city isn’t positioned directly beside the Vudrask, so we’ll need to make a short journey inland.”

  I hadn’t expected that and feared he would think me ignorant of the lay of our country, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “It’s not far,” he went on. “I normally rent a team of mules and a wagon for cargo transport, and I can make it from the river to the city in less than half a day.”

  I nodded, and we fell into a comfortable silence as I raised my face to the sky.

  Droevinka was almost always overcast, and in early autumn it often rained, but the day was fine, and the sun peeked through the clouds ahead. After the past moon inside the manor, I felt almost guilty about the peace and relief spreading over me. It was good to be outside under the open sky. But soon my thoughts drifted to what I would do when I reached Enêmûsk.

  First, I’d need to find out where Coraline’s father lived. Then somehow, I’d need to learn more about Coraline herself. Who was she? What did she want? Since she had married Stefan for his title, I couldn’t see any advantage in her casting his sanity in doubt. I clung to the belief that if I could answer that one mystery, I’d understand what she really after.

  And perhaps I could stop her.

  “Look there in the rushes,” Cooper said, breaking through my anxious thoughts.

  Following where he pointed, I saw two large geese with three goslings in a nest. It was a sweet sight, though brief, as the barge floated past. I smiled up at Cooper.

  “It must be pleasant to see such sights all day.”

  “It is.”

  “That must be why you chose this way of life, instead of roofing houses or shoeing horses.”

  He stared down at me for a moment, as if I’d said something important.

  “It’s all I know,” he finally answered. “I grew up on the water, as this barge was my father’s. Now, he and my mother own an eatery in Kéonsk. I winter with them, as it’s too cold to sleep outside on the river… but yes, I think I would lose my wits if I had to stay in one place all day, every day.”

  That was by far the most personal thing he’d ever said to me. I wasn’t certain how to answer, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to expect me to.

  About an hour before dusk, we docked at a village, and the barge hands began tying off while Cooper stacked two crates and hefted them both.

  “We’ll spend the night here,” he said, “but I have some business to conduct before supper: one delivery, one sale, and I need to buy apples if there are any to be had. Apples are always in demand in Enêmûsk at this time of year.”

  I stood up, wondering if I could help, but the cr
ates he carried looked too heavy.

  Barge masters like Cooper earned their livings by several different means. Sometimes they were paid to transport and deliver goods. But for the most part, from what I understood, Cooper bought cargo in one place and then sold it for a small profit where the item was scarcer. Goods such as cloth, thread, pottery, and cookware were needed in the villages, while fresh fruits and vegetables were needed in the cities. Small taverns were always in need of casks of ale or wine.

  The trick for Cooper was to buy low—without cheating anyone—and sell later for a profit—again without cheating anyone. Barge masters were only successful if they were viewed as absolutely trustworthy. From what I’d seen back home, everyone trusted Cooper, and he conducted a good deal of business in Pudúrlatsat.

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer at first. Like me, I don’t think Cooper was accustomed to depending on anyone else. Then he set the crates down and pulled out what looked like a bound journal from inside his shirt. A thin stick of paper-wrapped charcoal was tied to its spine.

  “Do you know how to keep accounts?” he asked.

  That struck me as a foolish question, as I’d kept the manor’s accounts for years, but I simply answered, “Yes.”

  “I try,” he said, “but I’m not as skilled as my father. Sometimes I forget to write down what I paid for a purchase and then I can’t calculate the profit later.”

  For some reason, his request pleased me, and I took the journal from his hand. Perhaps I gained a vain pleasure in feeling needed, and the prospect of keeping Cooper’s accounting books made me feel necessary.

  “I would be glad to keep today’s accounts,” I told him.

  Cooper hefted the crates again and headed off into the village with me following. Both his hired men remained on the barge.

  It was a grubby little place with a mix of wattle and daub dwellings and shabby shops, but several people saw Cooper coming and paused to greet him.

  “Cooper,” an aging man called, showing no teeth when he smiled. A younger man and little girl trailed after him.

  “Patrick,” Cooper answered. “You look well.”