by D.D. Chant
They rode through the trees until the grey light of dawn filtered through the bare branches and they came across a creek. Eda sank to the floor, pillowing her head on her arms. Adele sagged against one of the large moss covered rocks and closed her eyes. She was tired, so weary that she felt she could sleep for days if given the chance, and every inch of her felt bruised.
Rafe subjected them to careful scrutiny. Both women looked pale and fragile; he wondered how long they could take the pace before they started to weep and beg for it to stop. Adele opened her eyes suddenly, meeting his considering gaze and disconcerting him.
“How many?”
Rafe continued looking at her blankly.
“I mean how many men were there?”
“I counted twelve.” Rafe turned his face away from her probing stare, he did not wish to scare her with an estimation of those he had not seen.
She looked relieved at this evaluation.
“Where did you learn to use a bow?” asked Rafe suddenly. “For I’m certain that Mistress Ardith never taught you.”
Adele’s face was innocent with no hint of guile as she answered him.
“No, I do not suppose that Mistress Ardith has ever handled a bow.”
“No doubt you will tell me it was one of the other ladies at the fort.”
“Not if you will not believe it.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed, swift suspicion filling his mind. For a moment he said nothing more, but knelt on the grass beside the creek and scooped the ice cold water over his face and neck. He knew that her gaze was upon him, as gentle and unconcerned as it always was.
“Looks can be deceiving can they not, Lady Adele?”
She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them.
“‘Tis not my fault that you conceived an erroneous opinion of me barely a second after our meeting, and without even waiting until I had spoken a word.”
“And your marksmanship?”
For a moment he fancied that she hesitated.
“Randwulf taught me.”
Rafe felt a sudden and uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach, caused by the ruthless removal of all his solid facts. It was disconcerting to have the image of Adele’s spiritless character, and the so called seclusion of her life, ripped from his mind.
“And who is Randwulf?”
“A friend,” smiled Adele softly, looking away.
“A friend?”
Eda struggled upright, listening to their conversation carefully. Adele’s eyes smiled into hers, and Rafe was surprised by a vague idea that her gaze held reassurance.
“A good friend,” Adele answered quietly. Rafe was surprised by an unaccountable dislike for the unknown Randwulf.
He had been annoyed by the disclosure that Adele’s life had been so insular. However, the discovery that this was not so did little to quench his temper; if anything his anger seemed to burn ever more fiercely. He rubbed the tip of his cold nose and looked up at the top of the trees.
“Why did you come with us?”
Her words made no sense to Rafe and it was a moment before he answered.
“You need me to protect you.”
“But you said that it was better for you to make a stand and not come with us.”
“That was before I heard the horses.” Rafe glanced speculatively behind him in the direction that they had come.
“What is it, Finn? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing.” His stormy gaze dropped to her again. “We cannot rest here long, t’would be best if you had a drink.” He hunched his shoulders in the frosty air, rubbing his hands together. “Then, if you are ready, we should keep on moving.”
“We have only just arrived!” protested Eda. “You cannot expect us to carry on like this; we need to rest!”
“You can rest if you like,” shrugged Rafe, “but the horses and I move on in five minutes.”
Eda gasped in surprise.
“You swine!” she choked.
“Eda!”
“Well he is, making us sleep outside and dragging us through this horrid forest, which seems to be inhabited by people whose dearest desire is to kill us.”
“Eda, stop it.”
“Or at the very least if you must feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for the horses. They have as little rest as you do, but in between must carry your dead weight,” reasoned Rafe.
For a moment all was silent.
“Are you suggesting that I am heavy?” demanded Eda. A sound suspiciously like a giggle broke from Adele’s lips as Eda glared at him in indignation.
“You deserved that, Eda.” Adele pushed the tangle of curls back from her friends face. “Come, stop this, ‘tis of little help.”
“But, Adele, ‘tis all so vile!”
“You have said that already, dear.” Adele squeezed Eda’s shoulders. “So perhaps it is a little uncomfortable…”
Eda snorted.
“A little uncomfortable,” repeated Adele reprovingly, “but we are all experiencing the same discomfort and it cannot be helped. Let us not think, or talk, of it anymore.” Eda sniffed and wiped the back of her hand over her cheeks.
“I do not believe that oaf could possibly be feeling it the same as I,” mumbled Eda, her tone a little lighter.
Rafe grunted. Adele shook her head at them both, and sank to her knees before the pool.
“I believe that we will find Finn to be true his word; you’d best have a drink and a wash Eda.”
“I do not think so; ‘tis far too cold.”
“Eda!”
“Alright, alright,” placated Eda, sitting next to her at the water’s edge. “I meant that of course there is nothing that I would like better than a wash in cold water in company with the dear little icebergs.”
Adele laughed and flicked an infinitesimal drop of water up at her friend. Eda screamed and recoiled with a shudder, but she was laughing.
The water was cold, acknowledged Adele, but it quenched her thirst quickly. She pulled a handkerchief from the bodice of her dress, wetting it in the water and wiping her face. Rafe watched her, not out of admiration, although she did look appealing ensconced in the mossy bower, but with a kind of approval. It was the same approval that he would have shown to a foot soldier that had behaved well under duress.
Adele did not look up but knew his gaze was upon her, she wondered what he was thinking. She didn’t believe he was angry, there was no stiffness about him. However he was completely still and this, she already knew, was out of character for him. He was always restless, it was in the line of his body when he sat upon a horse and in the concise, blunt way he stated his thoughts.
“What will we do?” Adele asked, standing.
Rafe turned and began to walk away, pondering the wisdom of telling her all.
How had it come to this? Hesitation was not an emotion he had previously experienced in such vast quantities, nor was it a feeling that he was fond of. He had allowed it free range in the uncertainty of his dealings with Adele, but no more. Adele was his bride and her life was also in the balance, therefore he must trust her. However, she was a female in his sole protection and undertaking an arduous journey. She did not need the complication of his fears. From now on he decided that those two thoughts were the only rules that would govern their relationship. He would tell her the facts, but his suppositions he would keep to himself.
“Those following us will suppose that we will attempt to journey on to Valrek, if we were to try we would be most likely to fail. We will go to Merrodon; Lord Rafe’s army is there at present. It seems that we will need their protection as we travel home.”
Adele noted the familiarity in his use of the word ‘home’ and was envious of it. She had never felt that sense of belonging. The fort had been a place of refuge, a safe harbour until the day of her marriage, but it had never really been her home. The ladies contained within its walls had been her friends, but there had always been the knowledge that it was not permanent and that one da
y she would leave them. Nothing had been constant for everything had been part of preparing her for departure, for becoming a Lady of Valrek.
“What is Valrek like, Finn?” she questioned softly.
“How do you mean?”
Adele was thoughtful for a moment before shrugging her shoulders slightly.
“Well… what is the village like, the grounds?”
Rafe struggled, trying to decide what she would be most interested in. His interest lay in Valrek’s defences, in the strength of its fortifications, but Adele was unlikely to crave such descriptions.
“The village is built upon a hill and is extensive. ‘Tis surrounded by a wall, but there are gardens within and nearby there is a river; I used to play by it when I was a boy.”
“We had apple trees at the fort.” Adele braced her hand against his shoulder as he helped her to mount. “In spring they were white with blossom, and when the petals fell it looked like falling snow.” Her face broke into an appealing smile. “They were excellent for climbing. Eda once slipped, and it was only the fortunate circumstance of her petticoats becoming caught in the branches that prohibited her from falling. Do you remember, Eda? You looked vastly amusing hanging upside down with your skirts covering your face! I had to run and fetch Mistress Odette to untangle her, and Mistress Ardith gave us such a scold. She said that it was not fitting behaviour for a lady to climb trees. After seeing poor Eda caught betwixt heaven and earth with her inexpressibles on display, I must own myself to be in agreement with her.”
Adele was obliged to pause and lean over the horse with her hands pressed against the bodice of her dress as she laughed. Eda shook her head, however, and regarding her friend indignantly, not amused by the recollection.
Rafe considered Adele silently from beneath lowered brows.
“I fell from an oak tree once.”
This admission took Adele somewhat by surprise. She had not thought that Rafe was attending or that, if he was, he had merely been suffering her conversation.
“Really, how old were you?” She smiled placidly down at him. “T’was not last sennight was it, Finn?”
Rafe grinned and set Eda behind her on the horse.
“I was eleven and there was a black bird’s nest in the aforementioned tree.” Rafe mounted with an ease that Adele regarded enviously and then, touching Valliant’s flanks with his heels, urged the horse forwards. “I would not have fallen but for F…” Rafe stopped abruptly.
How close he had come to giving himself away. He had been going to say that Finan had startled him. Even as he recoiled from the mistake he wished that he had made it.
“But what, Finn?” asked Adele tentatively.
“My friend startled me and I lost my balance.”
He could take no pleasure in sharing the anecdote now; somehow it too had become a half lie.
“I hope you did not hurt yourself.”
“I broke my arm,” he answered curtly.
Adele sighed; it seemed as though the conversation had finished, and who knew when he would deign to speak to her again.
------
Finan knew he ought to do something even as he stood speechless. His startled eyes met the similarly startled eyes of the man before him. He knew he had to think and act quickly, but his mind was blank. Every thought scurried away into the dark recesses of his brain, save for the one that told him he was in deep trouble.
“Finan! I thought, at least I was told, that Rafe was in here. Did I miss him?” The young man looked over his shoulder as if he expected Lord Rafe to spring upon him from behind a bush. Finan opened his mouth but was obliged to close it again and swallow twice before he could reply.
“Lord Rafe was unable to come, Lord Leofric.”
“Unable to… but one of the men told me he was in here.”
Finan found that after all it was possible to move his limbs, and directed Lord Leofric of Drogand to a chair.
“The young scoundrel; I dare say he thought it a grand jest to fool you so!” smiled Finan with creditable ease. The surprise he had at first felt when seeing Leofric of Drogand lessened and he relaxed a little.
Lord Leofric’s perturbed face lightened and he flung himself into the chair with a laugh.
“I dare say he did. How did King Ine take Rafe’s delegation of duties?”
“King Ine is unaware of it, my lord,” answered Finan.
“Unaware, eh? I should think he is!” grinned Lord Leofric. “And do not begin to worry that I shall tell, him for I shall not. He would listen to me anyway; nobody ever does!”
In this statement Lord Leofric did not do himself justice. He was some years younger than Lord Rafe and Finan, and had a levity of manner that some might say was inordinate. However, he could always be counted upon to act with wisdom no matter how tight the corner.
He did not have Rafe’s talent for diplomacy, having little time for the petty differences of others. Oftentimes he had remarked to Rafe that he could not understand how Rafe could stand his chosen task. He had often been heard to say when in a dispute himself, Rafe was more likely to come to blows than come to terms. It seemed to be an endless source of amusement to Leofric that Rafe had been given the task of intervening diplomatically on King Ine’s behalf.
In short Lord Rafe would have entrusted Leofric with all he possessed, and suffered no qualm as to the result of such an action. They had known each other from childhood, Lord Leofric’s father having journeyed in Lord Valrek’s train to Calis in order to defeat Lord Targhe. Their fathers’ friendship had strengthened the bond the boys shared, and Finan had a great fondness for Leofric.
He had not, reflected Finan, changed so very much from those long ago days. Leofric was as easy going as ever he had been. Though he was not as handsome as Lord Rafe was held to be, his friendly face and ready humour made him just as popular.
“So, what gives, eh?”
“A small matter that King Ine wishes to have dealt with, my lord.”
“Let be, Finan,” protested Leofric. “Need you fling my title in my face like an insult every other second? ‘Tis not friendly and makes me feel as though I had vexed you somehow.”
Finan smiled and sat in the chair across from Lord Leofric.
“What brings you here anyway, Fricka?”
The anxiety disappeared from Leofric’s face and he smiled.
“My father thought I might benefit from learning to dance the diplomatic.” Leofric grimaced. I did not want to disappoint him and besides; we three always manage to have a lark when we are together. I did not know then, of course, that Rafe had managed to duck out and left all to you. Where is he anyway? He is not ill is he?” Leofric straightened as he asked this last, real alarm and concern contorting his features.
“No ‘tis naught like that.” Finan deliberated if he dared to confess his master’s secret to Lord Leofric. If Rafe had been present Finan was certain that he would have no scruple in confiding in him. Yet Finan could not. It was not a matter of trust, for Leofric was one of the most trustworthy men he knew. It was simply that it was not his secret to confide.
“‘Tis a private matter that Lord Rafe wishes to attend to himself.”
This statement could not but arouse Lord Leofric’s curiosity. However, after some time had elapsed and Finan had not elaborated, Leofric realised that for some reason the subject was taboo. Between two people who were not such good friends this fact might have occasioned some awkwardness, but Leofric understood Finan better than anyone else. He did not feel in any way slighted and was therefore not ill at ease.
“How long do you stay?”
“I know not,” replied Finan with a shrug. “The dispute between Lord Merrodon and Lord Coughly is petty, but they are intent upon forcing a quarrel upon each other and neither will budge.”
“There has never been trouble between them before,” observed Leofric.
“No, I am sure that even they cannot recall the cause for this sudden enmity, but
the quarrel is fierce now.” Finan stared moodily at the floor. He had spent a trying day sitting between two angry men who had, with every passing second, become more irate. Not that they hadn’t listened to him with respect. They had believed him to be Lord Rafe after all, a circumstance that had proved even more detrimental to his peace of mind than he had supposed. That fact had not stopped them from pursuing a hostile course toward each other. Now, adding to his problems, here was Leofric. Their foster brother would no doubt be surprised to find that Finan of Gournay had become Lord Rafe of Valrek. After a moment of thought he decided that Leofric’s natural dislike for anything to do with diplomacy would keep him from discovering the deceit.
“What will you do?”
Finan shrugged.
“I do not know; ‘tis not my wish to threaten them with King Ine’s army if they find no solution themselves and desist from this ridiculous posturing, but what else can I do? King Ine wishes to put an end to any disputes in his realm before they turn into blood feuds. He remembers Calis still.”
Finan’s voice was roughened with emotion. The battle of Calis was a memory that would remain etched painfully on his soul with the agony of all he had lost.
“We all do,” replied Leofric softly, his voice conveying sympathetic reassurance.
Finan smiled vaguely.
“As I recall you were barely crawling!”
“That is not true!” protested Leofric mock indignantly. “I was almost five years old at the time.”
Finan smiled again and shook his head. For some time there was silence between the two men as each remembered the horror that had been the battle for Calis.
“My father said it was the worst battle in which he ever fought,” murmured Leofric at length. “So many men lost to both sides, such needless bloodshed.”
“It could have been much worse,” replied Finan with a raw undertone to his voice. Leofric heard it and compassion spilled over from his eyes. “When Lord Targhe escaped from Calis back to his own lands there were those who wished to pursue him and carry the fight to his lands. They wished to bring Lord Targhe to justice for the slaughter on the House of Berron.”
“‘Tis a mercy that King Ine had sense enough to see that it would only have led to a lengthy and bloody war with King Aethelbald, thank goodness we were spared that!”
Finan heaved himself from his seat with a growl.
“Trust Lord Targhe to have had the forethought to align himself and his lands with King Aethelbald before embarking upon his murderous spree!” He roamed angrily with the force of his convictions. “The evil knave! Did you ever hear ought to equal it? The cold blooded turncoat! To secure his own safety before lashing out in vile premeditation. A more cowardly action I cannot conceive, for he knew King Ine would not risk the lives of his subjects for the sake of pride.”
Leofric shook his head, he did not like to think that one mad man could wreak such havoc, havoc that other, better men, paid for with their lives. He could neither understand nor comprehend that a man could kill innocent women and children.
There was no answer and thinking of such things only made him agitated and uncomfortable. He was young enough to hope that he was in perfect control of his own life, and yet wise enough to know that his control was only partial.
No one directed the path of their life absolutely. There were only two courses open to anyone; the roads of good and evil. Just the two. No matter what anyone else said, there was no opaque grey area. No sitting on the fence.
Once a path had been chosen, there was no longer choice left, only the correct and right action on one side, and slavery to the depraved on the other. God was always there to give lives direction, knowing in his infinite wisdom that which was best for each and every person. In the case of those like Lord Targhe, the Bible was clear enough; they were from their father the devil.
He shivered uncomfortably, as though just discussing the atrocities of the past had brought an oppressive atmosphere of evil into their midst.
“’Tis strange, how far reaching it all has been, how even now its effects are felt.”
Finan’s eyes met Leofric’s with great sadness in their depths.
“Such things should never be forgotten.”
Chapter Eight