The Lioness and Her Knight (25 page)

"Nevertheless, you must set the women free," Ywain said.

"I won't!" Sir Carius declared.

"Never mind, Ywain," Luneta said, chuckling suddenly. She pointed at the main entrance of the castle, where Rhience had suddenly appeared. He had the slender servant who had met them the day before by the scruff of the neck and was dragging him along, while behind him strode the woman Sophia, followed by a flood of ragged and emaciated women. The women blinked and gazed about them as they stepped into the light, but they stayed behind Sophia and Rhience.

"Lady Sophia," Ywain said, as Rhience and Sophia drew near.

"I am no lady," Sophia replied. "I am a miller's daughter."

"Do not contradict me, Lady Sophia," Ywain said. "Welcome back to the world of the living."

Sophia shook her head slightly, but only said, "World of the living, indeed. Until now, we were like the dead, in a tomb. This is no less than a resurrection."

"Please, Father," Floria said suddenly, ignoring Ywain and Sophia. "Aren't the women going to sew for us anymore?"

Luneta looked uncomprehendingly at Floria. She had known all along about her father's slave labor.

"No, they are not," Ywain replied firmly.

"But, won't that change everything?" Floria asked, her eyes wide with sudden worry. "I mean, will we still have nice things?"

Luneta, Rhience, and Ywain stared at Floria. At last Ywain said, "Not the same ones, at any rate." Then, in a ringing voice, he declared, "I claim this castle by right of conquest! I have slain the true rulers of this land; now it is mine to do with as I will!" He raised his reddened sword in the air and called out, "Does anyone dispute my claim?"

Floria tugged on her father's sleeve, but Sir Carius stared at the ground and said nothing.

Ywain turned to Sophia. "Lady Sophia, yesterday you had a chance to leave your prison, but you stayed to protect others. This was the act of a great queen. I give this castle, and all its lands, buildings, and treasures, to you. Do with it as you deem best."

"No!" cried Sir Garius in a wrenching voice.

Sophia ignored him and nodded gravely at Ywain. "I accept," she said. Turning to the other women, she shouted, "You are free now! Whether you wish to go or stay, I will see to it that you are cared for!" A few ladies cheered, but most seemed too weak. They could only smile.

"And what about Sir Carius and his daughter, my lady?" Rhience asked.

Sophia considered them for a moment, then said, "You must leave this land. You may each take a horse and whatever you can pack in one bag, but do not return."

"You are too generous to them, my lady," Ywain said, his voice harsh. "Sir Carius is no less a murderer than the Brothers, even if he
was
just doing as he was told."

Sophia shook her head. "They are losing everything that they care for. It is enough."

Sir Carius stamped his foot and said, "This is not lawful!"

Ywain turned hard eyes on the old man. "Accept the grace that has been offered you. Go pack your bags or leave without them."

Slowly at first, then with sudden frenzy, Sir Carius turned and ran back into the castle, doubtless to fill a bag with gold and precious gems. Weeping with anger and frustration, Floria ran after him, screaming as she ran, "Why didn't you stop them? I don't
want
to leave the castle! Why didn't you
do
something?"

Rhience shook his head sadly. "Whatever they take away, they'll spend it in a month, and then they'll never let each other forget that one time they were rich. It would almost be kinder to kill them now." Then he shook the velvet servant, whom he still held by the collar. "And what about this miserable worm?"

Sophia hesitated, and Ywain said, "May I make a suggestion?" Sophia nodded, and Ywain rumpled Lass's ears. "My friend here is hungry. This fellow promised to feed her last night, but he did not. I would imagine that she could finish him off by evening."

The servant gave a yelp, wrenched himself free from Rhience's grasp, and sprinted toward the castle gate.

Sophia watched him run until he was out of sight, and then looked at Ywain and Rhience. "To say the truth, we're all hungry. Is there any food in this castle you've given me?"

Rhience chuckled. "Is there any food?" he repeated. "Just come with me to the kitchens and see."

The next few days were busy for Luneta, Rhience, and Ywain. Having given Sir Carius's castle and lands to Sophia, Ywain couldn't simply ride away and leave her to get established on her own, so they all stayed and pitched in. To begin, they had to go through the whole castle and explain to its inhabitants the change in their circumstances. A few servants and guards left, but not many: nearly everyone was so pleased at the death of the cruel Brothers and the departure of the weak Sir Garius that they were inclined to accept any alternative without question. Once they had met Sophia, they accepted her for her own sake.

After that, the freed women were given the choice of returning to their old homes on the Isle of Wight or of staying in the castle with Sophia. Since the king of Wight had generally selected orphans and childless widows to send away, though, few had any reason to return to the king who had handed them into slavery, and all but a dozen or so decided to stay. Those who chose to return were given gifts out of Sir Carius's amassed wealth and sent home with an escort, and those who stayed were fed and clothed and given their own rooms. That was the next task: to open up all the closed and dusty bedchambers. There was a great housecleaning throughout the castle as servants and women aired and dusted the rooms and carpenters cut all the bars away from the doors. The day after this was done, though, a small delegation of the women brought a surprising request to Sophia, who was sitting with Luneta and Rhience in Sir Carius's old parlor. The women wanted to begin sewing again.

"Can you be serious?" Sophia asked with astonishment.

"Yes, my lady," said the leader of the delegation, a middle-aged woman named Anna. "It
is
what we're good at."

"But it's what you did as slaves! And, besides, not
all
the ladies were good at sewing. I know I wasn't."

"No, my lady," Anna replied. "But nearly all of us are. You see, the ones who weren't good at it were the ones who..." She hesitated.

"Who were beaten and died," Sophia said.

"That's right, my lady."

"Anna," Sophia said seriously, "I hope that you aren't offering this labor with some idea of paying for your keep. Because you don't have to pay for anything. Every farthing that I spend on your food and shelter has already come from your labor."

"I won't deny that that's a part of it," Anna said steadfastly. "We
would
like to do our bit to support the castle. But that's only part. You see, one of the sisters heard the Knight of the Lion say that he knew about our work, so we went to ask him about it. He says that the tapestries and embroideries of Diradvent are famous all over England. That's our work, that is. We're famous for what we can do, and it's a proud feeling." Sophia opened her mouth to argue, but Anna pressed on determinedly. "So we were wondering. There are two big sitting rooms on the second level here, connected by a big door, and those rooms have rich chairs to sit in and big fireplaces, and we wondered if you wouldn't mind giving us those rooms to sew in."

"Everything here is yours, Anna," Sophia said. "But are you sure?"

"My lady, when I think about spending the rest of my life sitting in a comfortable room by a fire, chatting freely with people I like, doing what I'm good at doing, and never having to worry about where my next meal comes from, it feels more like heaven than anything I've ever dreamed of."

Sophia seemed struck by this and was silent. Rhience said quietly, "A wise holy man I know says that the secret of life is to enjoy your food, enjoy your work, and give thanks to God."

Sophia smiled. "The salons are yours," she said. Anna and the other ladies in the delegation beamed at each other and hurried away to lay claim to their new workrooms. Sophia turned to Luneta. "I would never have imagined this—a life spent sewing doesn't sound like any sort of heaven to me—but this may help me to solve another problem. Luneta, could you come with me?"

Luneta willingly followed Sophia, who led her down the dark corridor to the door where Luneta had first heard the sound of crying women.

"Why is this door still barred?" Luneta asked. "I thought all the bars were cut off."

Sophia sighed. "We tried, but she wouldn't let us."

"Who?"

"Dorothea. Come inside. I'll show you."

Sophia removed the bar and pushed the door open. For a moment Luneta saw nothing in the gloomy, cavernous room, but as her eyes adjusted to the dark she discerned a single torch burning against a far wall and, beneath it, a woman diligently sewing. Sophia led Luneta down the stairs and across the empty room to the lone laborer. "Dorothea?" Sophia said gently.

"As you can see," Dorothea replied without looking up, "I'm very busy here."

"That's a magnificent dress," Sophia said. "No one can sew like you."

The compliment was calculated to please, Luneta knew, but for all that, it was no lie. The dress that Dorothea was embroidering would have been the envy of any lady at Camelot. Dorothea allowed herself to peek up at Sophia, then grunted noncommittally and returned to her work. "It's nearly done," she said. "So I hope you haven't come down here to waste my time again, trying to get me to leave my work."

"Not this time, Dorothea. In fact, I've come to ask if you would like to work with the other women."

Dorothea hesitated, then looked up at Sophia suspiciously. "Depends," she said. "Do they really want to work again? They seemed ready to drop everything the other day when that jester fellow opened the doors and said the Brothers were dead. Give laziness an inch, and it'll take an ell."

"Indeed, they want to work," Sophia said. "But not in this dark room."

"I've plenty of light," Dorothea said.

"They are setting up a new workroom in the castle above," Sophia continued. "It's a comfortable room with great windows and fireplaces, and they will sit there and talk while they work."

"Harumph!" Dorothea snorted.

"They would love for you to work with them, and if I might say so, they could all learn from watching your skill."

"And who will make them work when they get lazy?" Dorothea demanded.

"No one will make them work at all," Sophia replied. "They will work because they want to."

"Who will be in charge? Who will set the hours? Who will make them pay attention to their work when they start gabbling?"

"No one, Dorothea," Sophia said. Her voice was sad.

"Not one of them will get as much done as I will," Dorothea snapped irritably. "Go away and bar the door behind you!"

Luneta stared at the old woman with horror. She tried to think of something to say that would help Sophia persuade the poor woman to leave her prison, but nothing occurred to her. Sophia stepped back beside Luneta and sighed softly. "Can you help?"

Luneta shook her head. "I can think of nothing else to say."

"I mean, is there anything else you can do? Something magical? I know that you have powers that the rest of us don't have."

"Oh, that's why you asked me to come," Luneta said slowly. Then she shook her head again. "But I can't. Not even the most powerful sorceress could help. One thing that none of us can do is change a person's will."

Sophia closed her eyes sadly. "Then we must leave her here in the darkness."

Luneta set her lips and said suddenly, "I can at least do something about that. Here, bring me that dead torch over there." Sophia brought the torch to her, and Luneta explained, "I can dust this with a special powder and light it. It will give much more light than that torch Dorothea is working by, and it won't burn out, either."

They set the torch in a sconce on the wall opposite the old woman's other torch. Luneta performed her charm, and the new firebrand leaped into brilliant light, illuminating the gorgeous dress that Dorothea was creating and casting sharp shadows around the room. But without a word, Dorothea turned her back on the new light, continuing to work in her own shadow, sewing only by the dim light of her old, flickering torch.

Neither Luneta nor Sophia spoke as they returned to the castle.

It was three days after the battle with the Brothers before Luneta and Rhience had time to explain to Ywain why they had come looking for him. They told him about Philomela's inheritance and about her sister's attempt to steal it by deceit—perhaps even by murder—and they explained why Philomela needed a champion to defend her rights in a trial by combat.

"It sounds like exactly the sort of thing I'd rather have nothing to do with," Ywain said frankly when they were done. "Don't think that I don't feel for this Philomela. It does sound as if her sister's done her wrong—well, having her stabbed in the back is a good sign of that—but I don't like the whole trial-by-combat business."

"I agree with you there," Rhience said. "And so does King Arthur. I hear that he's tried once or twice to put an end to the practice, but it must be hard to change an old tradition. Some barons feel very strongly about the custom, and the king's always stopped short of issuing an outright ban that wouldn't be obeyed anyway. At least he's changed the rules so that it isn't a fight to the death anymore."

"Any time you fight with real swords, someone can die," Ywain said gravely. "Who is the sister's champion?"

Luneta and Rhience looked at each other, then shook their heads. "We forgot to ask," Luneta admitted. "But Philomela said that her sister had chosen a good knight."

"There, you see? I don't want to be hurt, and I don't want to hurt a good knight. This should all be settled in some other way. Justice achieved by force is only partial justice."

"Isn't that a tad inconsistent of you, my friend?" Rhience asked. "After all, less than a week ago, you took a castle away from an old man by force."