The Blight of Muirwood (7 page)

Martin leaned back, his arms folded. “You should send the girl to Pry-Ree. There are too many daggers in this land. Too much blood. She would be safer among her own people.”

“Thank you for your advice, Martin. You know I trust you and I respect your wisdom. It is not the time for such a course at the moment.”

Martin muttered under his breath and shook his head. “It is not right. It is not right to play such games with the life of someone so young.”

“Martin,” the Aldermaston warned, his voice growing sterner.

“I have heard you. I will obey. But I do not agree. I cannot agree.” He rose from the window seat. “Pry-Ree grovels for crumbs now when she used to feed princes. That ill-made king destroyed us. He is cold under the soil now, and no one mourns him. This girl is the last chance to make Pry-Ree bloom again, by Cheshu. She is the key to its re-birth.”

The Aldermaston’s gaze was icy. He said nothing, only waited for Martin to finish.

With a sigh, Martin returned to the window seat and sat next to Lia. “I speak my mind, Aldermaston. It is no secret I have my opinions. But I will obey as obediently as Prestwich. You can trust that.” He waved his hand at the Aldermaston. “I have interrupted you. There is more you had to say.”

The Aldermaston motioned to Prestwich who withdrew another scroll. The steward’s voice was thick and cultured. “This letter informs us that the Queen Dowager will be attending Whitsunday at Muirwood this year. We expect her arrival in a fortnight. Her retinue will be joining her as well and we have been asked to provide lodging for them at our expense.”

Lia looked at the Aldermaston in alarm. “Does she know that Ellowyn is here?”

“I do not know. I can and must presume that somehow she does know and that her retinue will be prepared for many possibilities. They may try to abduct her, poison her or the earls, or determine what they can about our defenses – to plumb the depth of our commitment to protect her. They may test the strength of our thoughts. That is why the earls are staying here and not in the village. That is why they will only eat from my kitchen. And that is why my own hunter will be responsible for their safety while they are here. If any threat emerges, you are to flee to the tunnels and use the orb to find a safe haven for them. Martin, you do not have long to find your quarry, for you must return before the festival so that I have both of you here when the Queen Dowager arrives. Remember, she was the slain king’s wife. I understand that she has been visiting the towns and Abbeys in surrounding Hundreds in recent months. She is a…cunning woman. Be on your guard with her.”

Martin leaned forward. “It would be safer to move the girl now then, Aldermaston.”

He shook his head. “I would rather she stay under Muirwood’s protection while it still is strong. We have time yet, Martin. There is still time.”

Lia’s mind was burdened with too many thoughts and worries. She folded her arms and looked down at her lap, feeling the weight of her responsibility.

The Aldermaston’s voice intruded on her thoughts. “So you see, Lia. I have not sent Martin on the harder errand after all.”

Lia smoothed the linen napkin enclosing the foodstuffs and carefully packed it inside Martin’s baggage. She included some small pouches of spices that she knew he liked and then cinched it closed and held it out to him. Martin gave her one of his rare smiles. His bow was strung, the two quivers full of brightly-fletched arrows, his hand resting casually on the gladius pommel in a way that made her worry. Anything involving the work of death and war made her slightly sick. The nightmares of the battlefield of Winterrowd still haunted her, though not as often.

She gave him a hug, which always made him scowl and shoo her away. “’Tis you who need the comforting, lass. By Cheshu, I get the joy of wandering again in the fenlands and smashing little bloodsucking flies. Your work is more dangerous.” He looked at her sternly. “I have taught you well enough if you had the mind to listen. The hunter is patient. The prey is careless. You are a good lass. Be wary. Be wise. Be cautious. I will return within a fortnight.” He reached out and smoothed a lock back over her ear. It was a tender gesture, a subtle showing of affection, and it made her swallow.

“I will have Pasqua save you a slice of sambocade,” Lia said. “Maybe a whole dish.”

He shook his head and pounded his stomach. “It would not settle right to eat the whole thing. But a slice – that would be worth returning to. Keep an eye on the learner quarters. I think there are several of the first years who are getting a bit daring now that the year is finishing. I would not scold you if you dyed some of their hair blue if they wander at night. Woad is a useful plant for that.”

Lia laughed and gave him another hug. Then she opened the pouch at her waist and withdrew the Cruciger orb. He peered at her, his eyes suddenly fierce and penetrating. The scowl was still there beneath the bushy cropped beard that was mostly silver and black. He grimaced, his teeth showing. It was as if he wanted to say something, but could not.

“Show me the way to the man known as Scarseth,” Lia whispered, unnerved by his gaze.

The orb twirled and spun in her hand and pointed northwest, towards the Bearden Muir. He looked at the spindles, at the writing that appeared on the surface of the orb, but he could not read either. He nodded to her and then departed, tugging up his leather cowl to shade his face from the noonday sun.

After he was gone from sight, she looked down at the orb again.
Show me Colvin
, she thought, and again it directed her, pointing towards the Cider Orchard, where she expected him to be. Carefully, she placed it back in the pouch and headed off towards the orchard. So many thoughts collided in her mind, that she nearly stumbled as she walked. Of the many threats and dangers, it was difficult untangling them all. Mastons were still being murdered. The Demont girl had enemies. The Queen Dowager would be arriving soon at Muirwood. How could she, one person, handle it all? Part of her had been dreading Whitsunday for weeks, and that had turned to excitement when she learned Colvin had arrived. But instead of enjoying the dance, she would be worried about him.

“Lia!” called a voice from behind. She turned in annoyance and saw Astrid running towards her. He was eleven years old and very short with spiky dark hair.

She stopped, frustrated. “Does the Aldermaston want to see me?” she asked.

He shook his head when he approached, out of breath. “I thought you should know,” he said, then stopped, panting. “I overhead Getman Smith talking to some of the stable hands. He did not see me. He warned them against dancing with Sowe around the maypole. He said…he threatened them, Lia. If anyone asked her but him, he would thrash them.” His little face bunched up in distaste. “He really is a coxcomb. Tell her, Lia. It is not fair that he should be the only one to dance with her.”

She scowled and nodded. “Thank you, Astrid. I will tell her.”

“What happened to your face, Lia?”

“Nothing. It is healing. Thank you, Astrid.” As he ran to his next errand, she continued on, worrying about how ravaged her face looked before seeing Colvin. The skin was peeling and coming off in flakes, especially her nose. At least the itching was gone.

She entered the orchard from the south side, crossing the even rows towards the Leering guarding the trail downward. But before she reached it, she encountered Colvin part-way. The orchard trees were thick around her, forcing her to duck and weave beneath the claw-like branches.

She tried to keep her voice light, to not betray her excitement at seeing him. “I did not bring you any food this time. If you are hungry, it is your own fault. But there may be some apples in the higher branches.”

He held up his hands and she saw he was holding two. “Muirwood apples suit me now. I have not tasted one like these since I left. The ones that grow elsewhere are either red or yellow, sometimes juicy, sometimes mush - but never this blend of colors, and never this particular taste.” He tossed one to her. She caught it, noting the blemishes and blotches around the stem.

She smelled it first, inhaling its subtle fragrance – noting the way he watched her. There was a look in his eyes that she could not make out. No anger or impatience. He seemed very calm and self-assured.

She bit into the apple and enjoyed the burst of flavor. “It is a pity you did not arrive in the spring,” she said, “when the whole orchard blooms. It is my favorite season here on the grounds, when all the oaks are budding and the apple blossoms fall so thick you think it is snowing. I think I told you before,” she said seriously, regarding the bitten piece of fruit. “That we must be near the garden where the first Parents met. It was probably the garden where we found Maderos, remember? Imagine if that was it.”

Colvin shook his head. “That has not changed. You still mock subjects that you know little or nothing about.”

With a sweet smile, she asked, “How could I know all that, if no one will teach me to read?” She took another bite. “We know so very little about those ancient days, Colvin. What would have happened if our first Parents had not bitten the apple together, at the same moment?”

“You presume it was an apple. The tomes only say ‘fruit’. There are, after all, other things they might have eaten.”

“Yes, but there is something less than forbidding to the imagination about biting into a pumpkin. What would have happened if they did not eat it at the same time? What if Father ate it first?”

“There still would have been a punishment,” Colvin countered. “That is the point, Lia, not who ate it first or what fruit it was. Maybe in another world,
she
took the first bite and suffered the first punishment. But you did not come all this way here to talk about the fruit of knowledge and what it means. Sit down at that stump. I owe you an explanation for my actions. You may not believe me, but I do regret that it happened. You probably believe I was a faithless knave – I am sure you did. Please…sit while we talk.”

There was a patch of grass that looked much more inviting, so she sat there, enjoying another taste of the apple and the fact that Colvin had climbed a tree to find it, and then waited for him to speak. Because of what the Aldermaston had explained that morning, she thought she knew most of it already.

He did not join her on the grass, but stood nearby, examining a branch crowned with leaves. “The day I left you, I told the Aldermaston that I would pay for your learning. He knew I was to be invested as the Earl of Forshee. It was not an issue of money that he refused me. He said he did not want to draw attention to you more than had already been done. After Winterrowd, I thought it would be safe, but he warned me that I was mistaken. Other earls would oppose Demont and rise in rebellion. It came to pass just as he said. He warned me not to reveal what you had done for me to anyone, not even Demont. It was for your protection and the protection of Muirwood. The only exception I negotiated was my sister. She knows.”

Lia frowned. “Am I forbidden to see you?”

He looked down at her and shook his head. “No, the prohibition is over. I am a guest now, a personal guest of the Aldermaston. It is only natural that his hunter would be asked to accompany me or be seen with me. It is not an uncommon practice among my peers to hunt and hawk. I enjoy it myself. There is more, though. When our little army returned to Comoros with the young king for the coronation, Demont gave me a formidable task. He had depended on me during the battle and knew that my father had sworn, at one time, allegiance to his father. He told me about the existence of his niece – a secret that I knew from my father. I had been told of it as a child. You see, when the old king destroyed Pry-Ree, he wanted to ensure that no prince would rise in the future to unite the people against him. Years ago, the lord prince of Pry-Ree married Demont’s sister. They were husband and wife when the old king began his invasion. She was great with child at the time, and he had to leave her to defend his lands. During the war the child was born – a daughter. Sadly, the birthing killed the mother.” He looked at her seriously and Lia swallowed, unable to keep eating.

Her heart burned inside her.

Colvin’s voice was soft. “Much we do not know. Those who survived say the lord prince was so bereft losing his young wife that the Medium ceased aiding him. He fell into an ambush and was killed by the king’s men. His head was fixed to a spear in Comoros. The Pry-rians were crushed. The child was taken into the king’s custody and hidden in an Abbey. She was to be raised a wretched.” His eyes were intent on hers. “Lia, I was asked to find this child. I believed…I truly believed it was you. You were about the right age. The orb spoke to you in Pry-rian. I did not think it likely that they would put the child so near Pry-Ree as Muirwood, but that alone does not invalidate it. You do bear some resemblance to the Demont family. Not your hair but your face, your countenance – it is hauntingly like that family’s.”

It took a moment for Lia to swallow. “Almaguer thought so,” she whispered.

“Demont told me that I needed incontrovertible evidence. He sent me to the archives. I was not to tell anyone of my mission – only to search the records to find out what happened to the prince’s daughter. I knew the year when Pry-Ree was lost. I found a tome written in the king’s own hand after much searching. The child was taken by the king and banished to Sempringfall Abbey.”