Breath of Heaven (3 page)

E
liane Chandler, daughter of Lord Edward and the long departed Lady Arden, stood at the door of her father’s chamber and watched as his man, Cedric, helped him sit up and plumped the pillows behind him. Her dog, Llyr, stood at her side and Eliane twirled the thick dark hairs at the dog’s neck through her fingers without giving any thought to the action. She heard the soft murmur of Cedric’s voice and her father’s raspy reply. Then in a weak voice her father called her and she stepped into the room with Llyr, as always, on her heels.

Her father, once strong, grew weaker with every passing day. His grasp, once mighty enough to hold a broadsword with ease, shook with tremors as she took his hand in hers and sat upon the bed beside him. The days, which had once been bright with his steady gaze, now were as gray as his pallor. Indeed the very land seemed to wither with the lord who no longer had the strength to rise from his bed.

Eliane knew the land was at rest for the winter and would come to life once again with the promise of spring. There was no such promise for her father. His life, which once seemed endless, would now only last for a handful of days.

Then responsibility for the people of Aubregate and
its land would be hers. She would become its guardian, from the deep wood, over the fields and town, to the high cliffs that stood sentinel over the sea. All that inhabited the land would look to her for their protection as they had her father for so many years. She was not sure she was up to the task.

“Tell me of your morning, daughter,” Edward said.

Every day before the noon meal, she came to him after seeing to the keep and townsfolk. Each day he asked and she went over the happenings of life at Aubregate. The simple things of everyday living went on even as the lord lay dying. It was the way of things, the way it was supposed to be. But knowing it should be so did not make the pain any easier to bear.

“It snowed again last night and the well was covered with ice so thick that Goran had to drop an anvil attached to a rope to break it.” She watched his face as she imparted the news. “It took three men to pull it up. I was most relieved to see that the rope did not break on the way down.” She knew, and Goran now knew after the lashing she’d given him with her tongue, that he should have used a chain instead of a rope. She waited to see if her father would offer an opinion upon the matter. Instead a smile flitted across his face, more evident in his eyes than his mouth.

“I was prepared to tie a rope to Ammon and send him down after the anvil,” she added. Her father’s smile grew broader at the thought of the gangly stable boy dangling from the end of a rope over the well.

“I am sure Matilde would be more than willing to hold the rope,” he said.

Eliane smiled at his joke. There was a long-going
war between Matilde, who ruled the kitchens, and Ammon, who was always lurking about, looking for a tidbit to fill the bottomless pit that was his stomach.

“How fare the townsfolk?” Edward asked.

“They fare most well,” Eliane said. “There are stores aplenty. I saw Gryffyn’s new son and he is hale and hearty,” she added. She chose not to mention that the blacksmith had asked to bring the babe to the keep for the lord’s blessing or that she had put the young man off, bidding him keep the babe close to home until it warmed a bit and the snow was not so deep. She did not want the people to see her father like this. They should remember him as the lord he had been, not the wasted man he had become.

“Ferris saw a boar at the edge of the wood yestereve,” she continued. “There will be a hunt later today.”

“And you will ride?” Edward asked. His hand grasped weakly at the hem of her tunic, then moved down to flip the ends of the cross garters that held her chausses firmly in place around her thighs.

She shifted her seat. She knew her position was most unseemly: she had one leg curled on the bed and the other poised against the rug that covered the oaken floor. “I always ride, Papa,” she reminded him. “You taught me well.”

“I fear I have taught you too well the ways of a man and not enough the ways of a lady,” he said. His glance took in her state of dress, which made her look more like a woodsman than mistress of Aubregate. It made sense to dress that way. How could she climb a tree or pull a lamb from a frozen stream if she wore skirts?

Eliane could not tell if he was sad or just weak. She could not stand to think he felt regret, so she hastened
to assure him. “I have found your teachings to be most wondrous, Papa. Indeed I feel that I have fared better than most daughters of lords who are kept as secret treasures and then bartered off in marriage at a very young age. Most of them before they can even comprehend what it means to be a woman.”

A wry smile twisted Edward’s face. “And do you comprehend these things, my daughter?”

Heat flamed her neck and cheeks, almost matching the fiery hue of her hair. “Madwyn has taught me the way of things,” she said softly. “I know what happens between a man and a woman.” She could not meet her father’s gaze. Instead she looked at Llyr, who laid his head upon her lap at her sudden discomfort and rumbled questioningly while he stared up at her with his deep brown eyes.

The silence stretched uncomfortably between them until Eliane could not bear it any longer and looked up from beneath her lashes to make sure her father was still with her. She found him studying her carefully as if something weighed heavy on his mind. Since she did not like the direction the conversation had turned, she gratefully changed the subject.

“Something troubles you, Papa?”

“I will be leaving you soon, Eliane.”

Her throat swelled and she forbade the tears to spring forth. It was hard enough to think of her father’s death without his speaking of it. She liked it better when they both pretended that he was merely ill.

“Do not say such things,” she urged. “You will be better come spring. You are as strong as the earth and merely need the sun to bring you back to life. Indeed, I feel much as you do, and would love to pass the days
lying beneath soft blankets and furs.” Usually her teasing pleased him and she looked at him in anticipation of a quick rejoinder about having worked long and hard for many years and being deserving of a few days of rest. Today her teasing did not please him.

“The time has long gone past for you to marry,” he said. “Are you certain there is no one you would choose for husband?”

“There is no one, Papa,” she assured him.

“No man of the forest or town interests you?”

“Is it not my duty to marry someone of title?”

“Yes, daughter, it is, but I would know if there is someone you care for…someone you could love.”

The heat rose in her cheeks again and she looked away. “There is no one, Papa, I promise you.” How could there be when every man she knew felt as if he were her brother or uncle or grandfather? They were all her people, from the huntsmen of the forest to the fishermen by the sea. There was none who would look at her in any manner other than with sweet caring and respect for her role as Aubregate’s future protector. There was no one she would consider for husband.

“It is my fault for keeping you close at hand,” Edward said. “How can you choose a husband when I have not given you anyone to choose from?”

“I trust you to make the right decision for me,” Eliane assured him once more, yet she could not help the shiver of fear that crept up her spine.

It seemed her father was determined to have her married before he died, yet whom did he expect her to marry? It was her duty to choose a husband who would
protect Aubregate and the secrets that lay deep in the forest.

If he were available, she would choose Peter, for she knew him to be kind. But Peter had had a wife chosen for him at infancy, as most lords and ladies of the realm did. If only her father had chosen someone for her when she was a child, then the problem would be resolved. She would most likely be long married with a daughter of her own.

Yet he had given her the gift of choosing as her mother had chosen him and she’d neglected it all these years. She’d stayed close to Aubregate, as if her very life depended upon it. Many times she felt as if it did, as if she would suffocate or die of a broken heart if she set foot outside its borders.

There was only one other lord she knew, and he was not one she would choose, even if he were the last man on earth. She would never marry Renauld Vannoy. She had witnessed his cruelty as a boy and knew that a black heart like his only worsened with time.

Surely her father would not choose Renauld? It would be most practical for her to marry him, as her lands bordered his along the deep forest. Their union would bring peace to both their lands, healing the enmity that had arisen when Renauld’s father had killed her mother, and Edward had taken his revenge on his wife’s murderer.

To this day the border they shared was not safe. Any of Renauld’s men who dared venture into the forest never returned, and a similar fate awaited the few unfortunate souls of Aubregate who happened to be caught away from its protection.

Her words echoed in her ears as she watched her father’s face. She trusted him to make the right decision for her. Surely the right decision did not include Renauld?

What if it did?

“Ride with the hunt this day, Eliane,” Edward said. “But upon the morrow, I would have you dress as befitting your station.” He tugged on the end of her braid, and his eyes moved up to the wool cap that covered her head.

“Yes, Papa,” Eliane said. She stood and Llyr moved beside her, anxious to be off. He knew there would be a hunt today. He’d seen the preparations.

She bent to kiss her father and he took her hand. “I love you, dearest daughter. You have forever been a blessing to me.”

“I love you too.” She turned quickly so he would not the see the tears that once more threatened to spill forth. Carefully, she walked away with Llyr at her heels. As soon as she was through the door, she fled as if her father’s pending death could somehow snare her also.

Eliane ran down the curved stone steps and into the main hallway. She heard a maid squeal in surprise as she pounded by and recognized the cook’s voice calling out after her. She ignored them both and did not stop until she reached the inner bailey.

Weak sunshine greeted her, along with a wall of frigid air that made her lungs ache. Her childhood friend Ammon stood with her mare, Aletha. Llyr bounded to the mare’s side and greeted her joyfully. Her bow and quiver hung from the saddle, along with a short sword and belt. No one hunted boar without weapons. To do so would be foolish. A bow such as
hers would not stop a wild boar, but it might give the beast pause until her men could bring it down with their spears.

“Are the men ready?” she asked Ammon as she took the reins and checked the girth on the saddle.

“Yes, milday,” Ammon replied. “They await you outside the gate.”

“Milady!” The cook stood in the door, her ample sides heaving with exertion. “Is anything amiss?” Matilde held Eliane’s cloak in her arms.

“Nay,” Eliane said when she saw the concern on the cook’s face. “I am just anxious to be off.” She smiled gratefully at Matilde as she placed the fur-lined cloak over her shoulders.

Did Matilde hide her fear for the future as Eliane hoped she hid hers? Did she, along with the other people of Aubregate, worry that their lady would not care for them as well as their lord? There was no fear evident in the brown eyes of the cook who had been as much a mother to her as Madwyn. Both had offered comfort to the small girl who’d watched as an arrow pierced her mother’s heart. Impulsively, Eliane gave the cook a quick hug. It was not the proper thing for the lady of the keep to do, but Eliane had never been one to worry about propriety.

Mayhap it was time she started. It seemed as if that was her father’s greatest wish and she could not deny him. Not when he was dying.

“Will you ride with us, Ammon?” He cupped his hands to boost her into the saddle. It was more of a polite gesture than anything, as Eliane’s legs were long enough to meet the stirrup on her own. A gesture born of long habit. Ammon was only a year younger than
Eliane. They’d grown up together. Others might think her chausses and tunic inappropriate, along with her seat astride the horse. Ammon would have been more surprised if she wore skirts and rode sidesaddle. Would he look upon her differently when she became his protector?

He grinned up at her. “I only await your permission.”

“ ’Tis given,” she replied with a smile. He ran across the courtyard and vaulted upon the back of his mount. It was one of the younger mounts, born of her mare’s dam and her father’s destrier, who now awaited her father in heaven so that they might once more ride together. That was her version of heaven, not the one described by the priests. Eliane could not conceive of paradise without the love of a trusted animal such as Hector, Aletha, or Llyr.

They rode through the raised portcullis and into the outer bailey, where the huntsmen waited. The hounds were held tightly in check by Ferris, the hunt master, and they bayed in earnest when they saw Llyr trotting by her side. He ignored them as always. Eliane knew he felt vastly superior to the hounds because he was allowed full run of the keep instead of being chained at night. What other dog slept at the foot of a soft bed but Llyr?

Eliane and Ammon rode through the gate and across the drawbridge that was the final defense of Aubregate Keep. Stags, carved from stone, their features long ago faded from wind and weather, kept watch over the towers on either side of the gate. She should make sure the hinges were oiled and have the chains checked on both bridge and portcullis. It had
been so long since they’d been lowered that she was not sure if they were in working order. It was quite possible she would have need of their protection soon. If her father died before she married, there would be suitors who would come, suitors such as Renauld Vannoy, whose desire to possess Aubregate was bred into him, along with his hawkish looks and indifferent cruelty.

She would come under the king’s protection. The sudden thought nearly caused her to pull up on Aletha’s reins. As it was, the mare danced sideways and bumped into Ammon’s mount. The young stallion reared and fought the bit as Ammon struggled to retain his seat.