“There is purple only, but there is an ample amount.”
How easily you lie to your friend and king!
The velvet slithered in his grasp as though it longed to return to me.
My mouth longed to cry: Tell me your secrets!
Had I said them aloud?
Before we could say more to one another, we heard voices from the hall. We both listened.
“It is Auberon and the others,” Duir hastened. “Listen to me. You must use your father’s old workroom to compose my vest. I trust not your shop for secrets.”
There were loud raps on the door.
“I will be the first to wear this velvet and none other before me, or they shall know death because of it. I may have been drunk when I swore this to you the other night, but leave it to you to see me through on such a vow.” He rose and reluctantly returned the velvet to me.
“What of Auberon’s wedding? He has asked me to make his vest and the vests of his men, which shall be Briar, Cale, and you.”
“I must think on this, Virago. Do your work, and let me ponder the laws of sumptuary and how best to manipulate them. For now, you must tell no one else of this and entreat your blind brother to keep his tongue or he shall know more than blindness as a sorrow.”
There was more pounding on the doors.
I stood, angered by his words towards Sylvain, but knew better than to attack Duir in the obvious ways. “Wait,” I rushed after him as he strode towards the doors. “If I am to work and complete your vest in time, I must have my brother’s aid. I ask he be granted permission to come to court and assist in my labors.”
Duir reached the door, but stopped. “Ahh, Virago, so you must always be the wiser. I have no care whether Sylvain comes to court. His unwillingness to be in my presence alone stopped him. Bring him and I will pay him as I pay you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace, you are kind to—”
But I didn’t finish. An ominous shift in Duir’s presence made me regret asking for Sylvain.
His face took on a stormy countenance and his eyes narrowed. “Kindness is weakness! I have bid you make me a coronation vest and you challenge me with a bargain?”
Silence begged my words to be still. The velvet begged my body to strike with a seductive, hissing voice.
Must you always bow to his madness? Show him you do not bow to madness!
My fists tightened until the blood throbbed like a war drum’s incessant thrumming.
Luckily, the pounding on the doors resumed and the storm threatening Duir’s atmosphere passed. My hands relaxed. I could only indulge one impulse and I chose silence.
Duir turned from me and went to the doors. He stopped before them, raised his hands so they rested on the massive structures. “Fail to amaze me in this task and you will both be dismissed from court. I, too, can be wily as a fox.”
He opened the doors and was greeted by Auberon, Briar, and Cale. I could see Horace beyond shaking his head with disdain.
Chapter 6
I arrived home to find Sylvain sitting on the steps in front of the shop. His hands were busy weaving pieces of leather together.
“What are you making?”
Sylvain did not raise his head as he often did when he heard my voice.
“I do not know, it is only a way to pass the time. Perhaps it will be a new leash for some animal in need of taming.”
The walk home from the castle had been long. Duir’s threat haunted me and upon seeing Sylvain, I wisely decided not to mention his threat. Now I yearned for dinner, drink, and hoped our earlier argument would not be resumed. I sat next to him. “I’ve been to see Duir. He has seen and fallen in love with the velvet, and so my hands will make his vest and it will be magnificent!” At the last word, I saw Sylvain flinch.
“I don’t doubt it.” He gathered his leatherwork to him and made ready to stand.
I grabbed his hand. “I have other news, good news, and it shall be most happy for you and I!”
“I am beginning to wonder if you can tell the difference any longer between news that bodes well for you or for me.” He yanked his hand from me, straightened himself up, and walked past me into the shop.
Left in the growing twilight, I wondered if somehow he were right. I could smell the orange blossoms from the tree growing behind the shop. I could see the sky turning from shell pink to purple. I could hear the distant cry of a bird, but the only thing I felt was an incredible burn in my fingers to touch the velvet.
“Sylvain!” I found him not in the shop but in the kitchen, sitting before a plate of stew and a large mug of ale. “Why must you say such things? How can you think I no longer know what is good and what isn’t?”
Sylvain’s blind eyes reflected in the shadows of twilight, giving the eerie impression that he could suddenly see.
“I do not know. I only know about the truth, and in the truth I see trouble forming and somehow it is linked to the velvet you hold nearer your heart than sage advice. I say be done with it, deny Duir and cast the material from this place.”
I laughed in spite of the chill I felt. “Deny Duir? The King? You are mad Sylvain. This material has won you a place in court!” I went about getting my own bowl of stew and mug.
“What do you mean by this?”
“Duir has agreed to my request to have you come to court and assist me in the making of the garment. He wishes me to work there, where no one will be able to see the vest before his coronation.”
“Why should it matter who sees it, Virago? It is not woven of gold, it is not priceless. This is exactly how obsession begins.” He halted to take a drink. After he swallowed, stared at me, his eyes unblinking. “It begins with confusion.”
“You misunderstand me, Brother. Duir is so enamored, he has made the promise that no one beneath him shall wear the velvet until the laws of sumptuary are altered. He has not even given permission for me to make wedding vests for Auberon and the rest. He wishes to be the first to wear such finery and for the coronation to be when anyone in his kingdom sees such a rarity.”
Sylvain made a disgusted grunt and pushed his near full bowl from him.
“Listen,” I continued, my voice rushed in the hopes of winning his confidence. “If it is obsession, let us use it to profit. Duir has long chided you as a cripple and does not know of your own talents with tailoring. Come with me to court. Help me. He has promised to pay you my equal monies!”
“I care not for money!” Sylvain shouted and slammed a fist on the table. “It is not my concern to wallow in the court of a King who values materials above people. I will not follow you to his side.”
“Sylvain, I only—”
“Have you forgotten the horrors inflicted upon me by not only Duir but the men he holds closest to him? The dungeons are familiar to me, Brother. Endless hallways, the cries of those held behind bars of cold iron, the stench of blood, and worst of all, the haunting fear I endured while locked beneath the castle. My voice could never rise above the screams of those held there.”
A pained expression remained on his face. “You do not know the embarrassment and pain I have endured at the hands of Duir and those of the men who now serve as his council.” He swiped at his face with his sleeves.
“We were all children! Children are cruel before they are kind. Surely you know this!” I pleaded, but knew it was in vain.
“You were not there the day it happened, Virago,” Sylvain’s voice trembled. “You were home in bed, sick with fever. You did not hear the way Duir and the rest blamed me for following after them without their knowing. I can hear Duir’s voice clearly telling Father and Killian the lie. I heard it so often it made me ill with rage.”
“And you have always thought I stood by silent.” Regret, when it came to my position at court was something familiar to me when it came to my relationship with Sylvain. “You hate me for being in Duir’s court.”
Sylvain sighed. “I do not hate, but I rage, Virago. I rage and am sorry for it. My seething only ser
ves to empower the memories by which I am haunted.”
Powerless to undo the past, but wanting to comfort him, I went to him. “Come to court. Show them all the fine man you are and always have been!”
Sylvain laughed. “I am no longer a child incapable of escaping the dungeons, or Father’s obligations to the throne. I am in no need of Duir’s approval, nor do I wish it. One day you may find the truth and I pray when you do, you will be spared the pain I endured. No, I do not hate you. I pity you.”
“How do you talk so to me?” I asked, struck cold by his words. “I know you have been maligned, Sylvain, but what am I to do to make things right for you?”
“You mustn’t do anything for me, Virago! I am more than capable of finding my own way.”
Desperately trying to mend a situation unraveling, I went to Sylvain and tried to reach out to him, but he avoided me. “I didn’t mean you weren’t.”
A flash of Therese’s torn dress sprung to my mind. Its careful seams ripped by careless hands. I could mend the dress, and I could mend this. But what thread does one use to repair something torn apart by fear and wrath?
“Would you have me ignore my own professional duties to run off and make vests for a man who has long tormented me?” he accused.
Adequate words escaped me. Therese’s dress was damaged because something that didn’t fit was forced into it. I could almost hear the seams first straining, snapping, and tearing. Now I faced the same predicament. The seams were straining. In the hopes of avoiding the tearing, I kept my peace.
“I see it is true, Virago, you no longer know my best intentions.”
I stood only a moment before I left the kitchen, and retreated to the shop. The shadows had grown long and the worktables and other furniture took on the shadow cast of evening. I lit candles, closed all the windows, and locked the door. I took a breath and when I exhaled, found myself choked with sadness and regret. I knew of Sylvain’s torment by Duir, and also knew much guilt for not having done more to stop it. I went to the larger of the worktables. My fingers sought tools and loose scraps of fabric and upon finding these, I felt comforted.
I remembered my father sitting in this very room, hunched over some garment. I went to him and asked why he must work so long into the night.
“Many people think a tailor’s job is simply putting thread to needle, but they are wrong. It is much more.” He beckoned me closer until I could see the torn clothing he mended. Recognizing my curiosity and awe, he held it up so I could see virtually no sign of the work he’d done; it appeared flawless. “We are able to fix what has been damaged, and make it whole. You will see much of life because of this trade. Be strong in work and you will be strong in spirit.”
“Let me be strong in work and spirit,” I repeated these words, then went to my worktable and laid the purple velvet out before me. It shimmered in the candlelight, and in its magnificent presence, I felt the tension in my mind begin to ease. My work had always been a balm to my troubles, and tonight, I sought the comfort of my familiar tools and the forthcoming challenge this new fabric presented. My doubts were short lived as I carefully caressed the velvet. It would be a splendid vest with black onyx buttons and perhaps pieces of the gold velvet cut and stitched like filigree over the front panels. I felt my imagination soar with vivid images and ideas.
“What are you about?”
I jumped when I heard Sylvain’s voice come from behind me.
“Thinking and dreaming, I guess.” I carefully folded the purple velvet. I would bring it all with me tomorrow when I started my work at the castle. I heard Sylvain sigh and immediately felt the earlier unease between us return and tighten.
“I realize I am jealous of your inclusion in Duir’s world, partially anyways, and I allowed my anger to color my words. You must forgive me, Virago. I only mean you the best, but surely you must understand my points as well.”
“There is nothing to forgive or be jealous of, Brother. We are different, but you are my family and I will never forsake our bond. Duir is duty, and as you must follow your duties, so must I follow mine.” I smiled as I felt his arm come around my shoulder.
“Indeed you must. I am no seer, but a blind animal trainer with some minor skills as a tailor, and in both of us we must find contentment.”
There was a look of tense consternation on his face.
“Sylvain?”
“I am troubled and wish the warnings in my mind would leave me. They are dark and it is horrible to not only live in a world of darkness, but feel it at the same time.”
I clasped a hand to his arm resting on my shoulder. “Let tomorrow bring what it may and in the end it will all be as it should.”
“Aye, truer words have not been spoken.” He withdrew his arm and added, “I met Therese earlier, and she told me of her visit. She has acquired some new pets she needs help with.”
“Do you mean the peacocks or the man?” I asked, thinking of Claus.
Sylvain smiled. “Therese told me she dresses him in her gowns. I wouldn’t be surprised if she buggers him with a phallus for her own, and the other whores’, entertainment.”
I laughed. “I am aware of this fancy. She brought me the results of Claus’s dalliance in dressing up. The jade dress I so painstakingly made for her last autumn now rests on the chair by the window with its seams split.”
I watched Sylvain make his way over to the chair, and finding the gown, gathered it to him and searched for the damage.
“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you about Therese’s peacocks. It’s been a day, and I am weary.”
Sylvain found the rip. “But the seam is completely destroyed. He must have been forced into this garment like a bull into a pen too small!”
“He is of slight build, so perhaps it was some other incident that ripped the dress so badly. How can I guess?”
“There is no guessing.” Sylvain replaced the dress to the chair and followed me out of the darkened shop and into the warmth of the kitchen, where a fire glowed. “So is my life to be among peacocks and yours among the strutting cocks of Duir’s castle, he being the biggest cock of them all?”
I smirked but forbore to comment, and was about to depart for bed when I remembered Therese’s real purpose for a visit.
“I also forgot to mention Claus has a brother who he wishes me to present to Duir. A musician if you can believe it. He stood with the ripped dress and begged a favor of me!” I started to laugh, but stopped when I saw Sylvain’s face grow taut.
“What is it?” I asked and went to his side.
“I don’t know, but I got a chill as if a ghost walked past me.”
The shadows of the fire flickered on the wall and I felt the heat of its flames reach out from the grate like devilish hands. I wiped my cheek and felt damp sweat.
“It’s nothing.” Sylvain’s voice broke the spell. “I am tired. It has, as you say, been a day.”
With a pat on the shoulder, he left me. I stood alone long enough to hear his door close. I followed suit to my own bed.
Chapter 7
The next day I woke to the sun streaming through my open bedroom windows. With it came the smell of the honeysuckle vine my mother planted when my father first brought her to the house. The sweet fragrance made me think of my parents, of their love, how they cared for one another and how he mourned when she passed. I remember finding him one day lingering by the honeysuckle, his face pressed into the blooms, eyes closed and face full of pain. He loved her truly and honestly. I could only hope I would one day find such love.
But not today. Today I would retreat into another passion, my work and the making of Duir’s vest. The echo of Sylvain’s concerns lingered in my thoughts, but I could not let his worry overshadow my task.
Getting up, I made my way over to the window with the intention of gathering a clipping of my mother’s honeysuckle for the shop, but stopped when I noticed a man walking up to the front door. I couldn’t quite make out his face from where I stood, and before I could
imagine whom it could be, I heard a tentative rapping on the door. My pants were on top of an old chair opposite the window. I leaned over, bent to put them on, retrieved a shirt, and then made my way to the kitchen. Sylvain had gone to his work, probably to help Therese with her peacocks. Alone, I felt strangely naked. I even glanced down to assure that I’d gotten fully dressed.
The knock repeated.
I went to the door and opened it. I found myself looking into the eyes of one of the most beautiful faces I’d ever seen. For a moment I was stunned into silence, and couldn’t pull my gaze from those eyes. They were blue-grey like a sky tormented by the rain. My heart pounded and I struggled to find my voice beyond my inexplicable muteness.
“I meant no trouble or to disturb. I am looking for a man.” He hesitated, his eyes searching me for some sort of reply. “A tailor,” he added hopefully.
“Yes,” I answered, the word tumbling from my mouth.
The man offered his hand. “I am Seton. I was told the tailor, Virago, lives here. Is he at home?”
My eyes lingered on the offered hand, his skin a shade darker than my own, with long, slender fingers. “Yes,” I repeated.
He took my hand and shook it heartily.
“Are you Virago?” he asked, this time letting his eyes drift from my face to our clasped hands.
“I am, I am indeed, Virago.” I released his hand and shook my head. “I’ve just woken, forgive me.”
“It is I who should beg your forgiveness. I was out in the streets early and found myself overwhelmed with a curious recklessness, and here I am. Did my brother not come by with Lady Therese? He told me he mentioned my name to you.” His eyes searched mine for recognition. “Though Claus is not to be relied upon for more than lustful trysts and too much indulgence.”
“Yes, your brother did make mention of you. Please, come inside.” I moved aside and as he passed and saw a lute strapped to his back; he smelled of fruit and sun.
His smell enflamed the thousand secret desires trapped within me. I caught the sweet breath of honeysuckle which reminded me of my yearning for love. I sighed heavily and closed the door behind us.
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