Duty: a novel of Rhynan (13 page)

Kurios, spare him. Place a hedge of protection
around him. Please bring him back to me.

Feminine laughter broke through my prayer.

“Don’t worry, child, he will return. Either dead or
alive, he will return.”

I turned to find Rolendis and three strange women
standing in the shadow of the gate. Their bright silk and satin
skirts peeked out from beneath fur-lined cloaks. The widow’s cloak
draped about her shoulders, unfastened, displaying the front of her
elaborately embroidered bodice.

“Hope that he is dead when he does. For if he isn’t,
you will wish you were.”

“Ignore them.” Moriah slid an arm through mine.
“Rolendis does not mourn her husband as we would mourn ours. Would
you walk with me, my lady?”

I nodded, uncertain my tongue could form words
without something foolish bursting forth.

She drew me back toward the keep, but instead of
walking up to the main doors, she led me along the wall to the
right.

“There are some things you need to know.” She dropped
my arm to open a gray door. It blended into the wall so that the
eye passed it over if one wasn’t looking for it. “We will have more
privacy in the gardens.”

I had not realized how I missed greenery until the
moment I set eyes on the paradise beyond the door. Barren climbing
rose vines, plants of every shape and size, trellises of grape
vines, fruit trees, and an herb garden patterned out in a wheel
greeted me. I could feel the tension in my shoulders easing even as
I took a deep breath of the familiar scents of earth and life.
Slipping into the slumber of winter, it wasn’t as fragrant as full
bloom. Still, if the sounds of hooves on stone and the voices
didn’t drift over the wall, I could close my eyes and half believe
I stood in my mother’s garden while she still lived.

“My lady, you are in danger.”

My eyes popped open. “What?”

“You are in danger here.” Moriah’s eyes searched my
face urgently. “Rolendis is bent on revenge. Kolbent’s death robbed
her of power, rank, fortune, everything she sold her body to gain.
She intends to regain what she lost. The fastest way to do that is
through your husband.”

“Are you saying she will try to kill me?” Rolendis
didn’t seem cold enough for that. Bitter, jealous, and manipulative
perhaps, but I couldn’t see her as a murderess.

“No, she will not wield the knife. However, she would
willingly hand you over to someone who wants to get rid of you for
other reasons.”

I peered into her face. “Who would want that?”

“I don’t know who she will enlist, with Jorndar
restrained and watched. But, she will be seeking a way.”

I studied Moriah. She was the wife of one of my
husband’s friends. At least I thought they were friends. Mulling
over Sir Rathenridge and Tomas’ exchanges, they certainly acted
like friends. But, I hadn’t heard Tomas mention Moriah beyond the
single message of greetings she sent through her husband. Was she a
friend of Tomas’ or another woman bent on stirring up trouble?

Her face seemed honest enough. If only I could see
through to the character beneath.

“What do you think I should do about it?”

“Come home with me.” She smiled warmly. “We can leave
word for Irvaine and escape this place. I would love the company.
The children enjoy visitors. You will be safe, and we can look for
our husbands’ return far from Rolendis and her poisonous
tongue.”

“I have to wait for the caravan to arrive. Irvaine’s
son and another child are counting on my protection when they
arrive.”

“Then you must wait. When will the caravan
arrive?”

“I don’t know. It could be any time in the next few
days.”

Genuine concern pulled at her brow. “I can linger no
longer than a day. My children expect my return by a set date. If I
don’t appear when I said, they will grow distraught. You can always
follow after.”

“Even if the caravan arrives in time, I need to stay
here. Irvaine requested I watch over the running of the vargar for
him. He does not trust Horacian.”

Moriah’s eyebrows drew together. “Horacian is
harmless.”

“Perhaps, but I need to stay.”

She studied my face. “Irvaine expects a lot of you,
doesn’t he?”

I considered his requests for a moment. “No more than
I would expect of myself. I have experience with crops and
managing, but caring for the children frightens me a bit. Although
I have been around younger children, I have never been the sole
caregiver for one, let alone two.”

Moriah’s face softened. “Feed them, provide security,
consistency, and above all else love them. Oh, and don’t be afraid
to say no.” She squeezed my hand gently. “You will do well.”

I wanted to ask her how she could know that, but
before I could, a servant approached from the keep. The girl bobbed
in and out of a curtsey with a wobble. She met my gaze with the
unashamed attitude of one much younger than her covered hair and
long skirt indicated.

“My lady, Steward Horacian is seeking you. He wishes
to escort you on a tour of the fields at your earliest
convenience.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at her. The corners of her
mouth lifted in reply. “Please notify him I shall meet him in the
outer bailey.”

Forgetting to acknowledge my instruction, she turned
and bounded off the way she had come.

“Beware of insolence among the servants. Rolendis
plays favorites.”

I watched the girl-child’s retreat. “I will keep that
in mind.”

Rolendis might have played favorites, but I doubted
she favored a maid as innocent-mannered as that one.

“Farewell, Lady Irvaine.” Moriah took my hands.
“Should you need shelter or support, you send word my way.”

“I shall.”

After a final squeeze, she dropped my hands,
curtseyed, and left in the direction of the keep.

I lingered a bit longer in the garden to pick apart
the mess of emotions roiling in my gut. Seeking a few moments of
prayer and quiet seemed the best way to hush the chaos.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Touring the fields brought my village’s past into
stark clarity. I witnessed well-tended fields, maintained
equipment, efficient workers, and the bounty that came with hard
work, good ground, and the seasonable weather of the past few
years. Wisenvale’s land was just as arable. If my cousin had only
left us to ourselves, we would have made it with food to spare. His
yearly tax of the harvest had cost us more than he realized.

I paused at the thought. No. He had known. I had told
him repeatedly.

“Then there is the seed that we purchased from Lord
Wisten last year.” Horacian pointed to an entry in the ledger
before me. I shifted the book so I could see it more clearly in the
afternoon sunlight pouring in the great hall’s window. A sum
completely out of proportion to the amount of grain received jumped
out from the page. The handwriting of the entry was obviously
different from the normal recorder’s.

“Who kept the accounts then?”

“I did, my lady. Why do you ask?”

“You didn’t make this entry.”

“That is true. The late Lord Irvaine handled that
transaction himself.”

“And you didn’t question the obvious overpayment?” I
studied Horacian’s face. He blushed.

“It wasn’t my place, my lady. I noticed the
disproportion, but no one questioned my late master and kept his
position.”

“Did this happen every year?”

“Now that you mention it, it did. I also noticed that
Lord Wisten left with most of the grain he brought with him.”

“Bribery?” I wondered aloud, not really expecting
Horacian to answer.

“Possibly, my lady. The late Lord Irvaine’s dealings
with King Trentham were not easy. Trentham kept demanding more than
my master wanted to give. He was even reluctant to defend when the
call for arms came. He dallied with the idea of joining the rebels.
Marrying my Rolendis changed his mind. He threw his lot in with the
King.”

I frowned. My cousin sided with King Trentham then.
Trentham demanded complete loyalty. Even unsubstantiated rumors of
wavering could lead to the stripping of title and lands. If Orwin
learned the late Lord Irvaine seriously considered joining the
rebels, he would have leverage. Armed with proof, he would have
drained the coffers dry. Considering the prosperity I witnessed
since my arrival, Orwin didn’t have proof.

“When was the last inventory of your winter
stores?”

“A month ago. Last harvest brought in far more than
we needed.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I need
to know how much Kyrenton can spare.”

Horacian’s expression spoke eloquently of his
disbelief. “My lady?”

“Wisenvale is now under Lord Irvaine’s protection.
Lord Wisten left us inadequate stores to last the winter. Lord
Irvaine wishes to know how much Kyrenton can spare without
hardship. We are not asking for your seed grain, just the excess of
your winter stores.”

“I will see what I can do, my lady.”

“Thank you, Horacian.”

The following day passed swiftly. I barely gathered
two moments together during the daylight hours to realize I missed
my new husband.

At night I fell into the bed we shared for a single
night and found myself wishing he rested there too. It was strange
how I longed for his support and company. In our brief time
together he had become a friend.

The third day dawned in cold light and muted silence.
I rolled over to resume sleeping when the sound of raised voices in
the inner bailey jarred me awake again. Men and horses raised a
racket below. It was still too early for that much activity in the
inner bailey.

Grabbing the fur-lined cloak next to the bed, I
lunged toward the window. I thrust aside the heavy curtain which
promptly fell closed again behind me. Then, I threw open the
shutters and stuck my head out. The window opening overlooked the
outer bailey, offering a view of the gate into the town beyond.
Even in the gray dawning light, I could spot a wagon easing through
the gapping gate.

The caravan was here.

Abandoning the window, I flung the curtains aside
again and dove for my clothing. I dressed quickly. My fingers shook
with cold so that I fumbled tying my second boot, but I managed at
last. Taking the stairs two steps at a time, I almost plowed into
Horacian on his way up. I hit the stairwell wall a bit hard with my
shoulder instead.

“Pardon, but the caravan is here, my lady.” He took
in my rumpled gown, twisted surcote, and unbound hair with widened
eyes. “I see you already know.”

“I heard the noise.” I tugged at the surcote in a
futile effort to straighten it.

“I shall plan on you not being available until the
afternoon then. You will want to settle Master Darnay before we
resume our tour of southern borders.”

“Whom do I speak with about quarters?” We hadn’t
reached that aspect of the estate management.

“Sarena Farwyn oversees the room assignments.”

I straightened my shoulders and pushed from my mind
the fact I looked more like a wayward child than a lady of the
manor. “Have her attend me and Master Darnay in my quarters in a
half-hour. Also, see that a proper fire is built in the hearth
there. Master Darnay will need warmth to fend off the cold of his
journey.”

Horacian smiled, a slight lift to the corners of his
mouth.

I blinked in astonishment. It was the first positive
expression I had seen on his face since his obvious relief at Tomas
not punishing him for handing the account books to Sir Jorndar.

“I shall see to it myself, my lady.” He bowed and
continued up the stairs.

Instead of pelting down the rest of the steps, I took
a moment to right myself. I finally reached the great hall a few
minutes later with my surcote straight and rumpled gown covered. I
could do nothing about my hair, having left my leather ties in my
room, but I figured I was within the acceptable range of
propriety.

Crossing the empty hall at a trot, I reached the
outer doors as the last of the wagons halted beyond them. Men
jumped down, women scurried about, and a handful of soldiers moved
among them. I saw no children.

Then the first wagon rolled off toward the stables.
Beyond, I spotted two small figures, unnaturally still among the
chaos of movement.

“Darnay?” The name fell from my mouth in my
surprise.

They both turned my way. Two pairs of almost
identical dark eyes sought my face while a sharp breeze stirred the
dark curls framing the girl’s features. The boy regarded me
impassively as I approached, but the girl stepped closer to her
cousin. Darnay clutched at the wooden sword in his hand.

“Darnay? Elise?”

Darnay studied my face with intensity so like his
father my stomach tightened in a sudden desire to see Tomas’ face.
“Grandma?”

A woman detached herself from the group carrying
three bags stuffed so tight the leather strained at the seams.
“What is the problem?”

“I am Brielle.” I met the woman’s curiosity with a
smile. Darnay stepped back into her skirts, and Elise crowded
behind him. “I am Lord Irvaine’s new wife.”

“Her hair is red.” The girl’s eyes locked on my wild
hair.

“Hush, Elise, don’t be rude.” The woman settled a
lithe hand on the mop of dark curls on the child’s head.

“But it is.”

“I know.” She smiled down at her charge. Then she
turned her gaze to my face. “Tomas asked that I give you this.” She
pulled a piece of thrice folded parchment from her belt. She handed
it to me with a warm smile.

I smoothed it flat.

Beloved, she is my mother. Make her welcome for me.
Tomas.

“He sends his love.”

I looked up to discover the woman watching me. I
returned the regard. She obviously wasn’t a woman to fuss about
appearances with her thick, gray-laced hair pulled back into a
sensible plait. I could see why when I really looked. Buried
beneath the laughter wrinkles and the usual ravages of time was the
fine bone structure of a natural beauty. Her bright eyes and warm
smile gave her an appearance of a woman much younger even now.