Claire Delacroix (6 page)

My sister watched me, her uncertainty evident. I forced a smile for her. “We shall spend Christmas warm and well-fed for a change. How soon can you be prepared to depart?”

* * *

It was bitterly cold by the time we left Kinfairlie village behind us, by the time I had made some excuse to the silversmith Malcolm Gowan and shaken free of his wife Fiona’s shrill demands by persuading her to sell the ale herself. The entire transaction would have irked me more, had I not known that better fortunes lay before us.

No matter how destitute Ravensmuir had become, it would be a finer life for us there than the one we had come to know.

The dark sky brooded, the clouds a leaden blanket too heavy for the sun to push aside. The wind was vicious as it can only be when it rises in the east. There was a storm coming and we walked quickly, that we might reach the shelter of Ravensmuir before the onslaught of rain began.

We were four - Mavella, Tynan, Fitz and myself. And the black stallion, of course. Fitz had offered me the mount, but I know little of horses and this one’s vigor frightened me.

Indeed, closer inspection only confirmed my earlier thought. There was a wickedness in the glint of the eye of that stallion, a restlessness about the beast. It was as vibrantly alive as Merlyn had been. It fought the bit and defied Fitz frequently, as if unfamiliar with the burden of him.

Merlyn’s steed was a beast of a temperament well matched to his own. I refused to think of Merlyn’s visit, refused to consider that I might have prevented his demise by making a choice other than the one I had.

The world was better to be rid another criminal, was it not?

To my dismay, in the shadows of my heart, I was not so certain. The world seemed a darker place without the prospect of encountering Merlyn again. I told myself that the weather solely was at root of my dismal mood but did not believe it for a moment.

I reminded myself that I had made the right choice five years past, the sole choice. I knew that Merlyn and I could not have survived each other - just as the hawk and the hare could not have made a good union.

But surely there is no weakness in admitting that I was encouraged by the knowledge that he sailed onward, boldly conquering all that crossed his path. Surely there is no fault in being glad that some soar as freely as the birds when I myself was securely tethered by concerns and responsibilities. I had borne my burdens more easily, knowing that he flew unfettered.

Our short marriage had not been all bitter, nor even all sweet. No, for all my decision to leave, there was tenderness in my memories of my husband. Merlyn was a man, as few men have the audacity to be - more handsome, more virile, more audacious, more lacking in conscience and more charming than God should have permitted any single mortal to be.

Yes, if he had not been a criminal and a murderer, I would have been in his bed until the end.

Until this day.

And now I would never lie abed with him again. I was shocked to realize that a faint hope of reconciliation had lurked in a dark corner of my mind, a hope that now died as surely as Merlyn had.

Could any man’s sins be sufficient that he deserved such a sordid death as Merlyn had met?

By the late afternoon, the keep rose dark before us, just as the cold onslaught of rain began. Ravensmuir occupies a point of land which juts into the grey of the North Sea. The keep itself rises to an impressive height, presenting a solid stone face to the inland side, the bulk of it aligned roughly north-south. It is built to withstand a considerable assault. The coastline is rocky and treacherous there, wild with the splash of the surf and as untamed as the family that claimed it.

Not a light glowed from a window, not a sprig of greenery graced the gates. All was grey and desolate. The weather made the keep appear even more forbidding than I knew it was and we trudged onward in silence, oddly disheartened by sight of our destination.

There was only the sound of the rain and the crash of the sea as we approached, the thump of the stallion’s hooves. Even Tynan’s incessant questions of Fitz were silenced.

The gate to Ravensmuir’s inner courtyard is a tunnel that burrows through the body of the keep and opens in the courtyard beyond. That tunnel houses not only a gatekeeper’s chamber but three wrought iron portcullises.

I had a moment to wonder whether Fitz had the keys to the gates, for I certainly did not, and another moment to fear that we would spend this night in the cold rain, before I saw that all of the gates stood open. Our arrival must have been noted long before, an unremarkable detail as the last mile of the road is dead straight for precisely that purpose.

A boy and a woman stood just inside the tunnel, waiting, sheltered there from the rain. I knew immediately who they were, though I wished with vigor that I would be proven wrong.

The woman stepped forward, apparently unaware of the rain, and my heart sank. Ada Gowan had changed little - she was but more taut and more severe, and better at pretending to be wrought of stone. She is not that much older than me, perhaps five years, though she looks twenty years older.

Uncharitable of me to say as much, perhaps, but I will recount the truth here, warts and all.

Ada was garbed in black, a most costly hue. I had never considered that Ada was a vain woman, for she is not particularly comely. But on this day, the expense of her choice was so considerable that I wondered. She was dressed in mourning garb, an affectation of those with considerable wealth. Her black wimple was drawn up to the bottom of her chin. The black veil encircled her sour features along with the wimple, and emphasized the lines carved in her face.

I wondered how she had known so soon that Merlyn was dead.

Her brother, Arnulf, was typically expressionless. He is tall and heavily wrought, larger than one would expect for a youth not yet ten summers. Arnulf is not keen of wit, though he is strong and can labor endlessly. Perhaps he has not the intellect to know when he is tired. I suspect his main advantage in Ada’s view is that he will do whatsoever she bids him to do, and that without a single query.

Ada eyed us all as if we were rats come to her door, or beggars. I was very aware of the faded blue shade of my best kirtle, though I lifted my chin and stood protectively beside my sister as Ada surveyed our small party.

“You have no need to voice your tidings, Rhys FitzWilliam,” Ada said, her tone harsh. “We know the truth of it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Fitz’s surprise told me that he had neither come here first nor sent word here of Merlyn’s demise.

Ada’s eyes glittered. “We know our lord Merlyn is dead.” She gestured to the courtyard far behind her. “The ravens left as one when the light of the dawn touched the sea. It is a sign that our lordship’s quest has failed.”

I shivered at this news, despite myself.

There was an old tale in these parts that any who made their abode upon this point would know the site blessed for them if the ravens took up residence. And if ever the ravens departed, it was a portent that the family would no longer thrive there.

Merlyn’s family took this fable most seriously. He had laughed slightly years ago in his recounting of it, but I had seen the solemnity in his eyes. He had fed the ravens in those days, and had named them all. I had accused him of mingling names and birds, for I could see no difference between the three dozen which occupied the courtyard. I had always thought them ominous birds, though their sudden absence was even more forbidding.

Ada’s tale chilled me, but I was well aware of my brother’s wide eyes. I would not have him frightened so easily as that.

“What superstitious nonsense,” I said disparagingly. “For all we know, they will be back this night.”

“Indeed, they might,” Fitz agreed.

Ada snorted, then glanced suddenly at my sister. Mavella flinched, as if struck by a blow, and averted her face.

A smirk that might have been triumphant touched Ada’s lips, which infuriated me as nothing else could have done. Had she not done damage enough? Ada and I glared at each other, years of antagonism crackling between us.

Then, Ada curled her lip in a snarl. “I suppose you have come to pick the bones clean, Ysabella. It is your nature, after all, to covet what is not yours to have.”

I itched to slap her, as was now my right, but I spoke in my most dignified manner to prove her expectations wrong. “I have come because Merlyn left Ravensmuir to my care. I am Lady of Ravensmuir from this day forward, Ada, by virtue of being Merlyn’s widow and heiress.”

“No!” The color drained from Ada’s face.

“Oh, yes.” I smiled, determined to show more grace than she.

“It is so, Ada,” Fitz intervened with authority. “The documents are all in order.”

Ada’s mouth contorted with rage before she managed to choke out a word. It was one I should have expected, but I flinched all the same. “Witch!”

“Ada...” Fitz began, but I held up a hand for silence. I would hear Ada’s charges against me.

“The omen is come true, then!” she cried, her outrage clear. “Doom has swallowed the Lammergeiers of Ravensmuir, doom that was hatched years past when Merlyn was beguiled into taking you to wife.” She spat on the ground before me. “The loss of my lord Merlyn is but the beginning of the end.”

Clearly, Ada did not believe that I would punish her audacity. It was refreshing to meet some soul who put so little faith in my rumored powers of sorcery.

But then, if anyone should know that the rumors of my arcane abilities are nonsense, it should be Ada Gowan.

“I appreciate that your grief at the loss of my lord Merlyn may have affected your greeting,” I said coldly, letting Ada see that I appreciated no such thing. “But I and my siblings are in need of a hot bath and a hot meal.”

Ada’s lips drew to a line so tight that they disappeared. “We were not prepared for your arrival.”

“But you had made arrangements for Merlyn’s return, for he was so recently in residence.” I was well aware that my siblings eyed me with surprise. I dredged up my memory of every lesson Merlyn had granted me in noble conduct, and thought I did passably well.

I let my voice drop. “I counsel you to play no games with me, Ada. You will prepare a bath in the bathing chamber, you will ensure that chamber is warmed, you will see that a hot meal is prepared, that wine is poured and that both the great hall and the beds are made ready. And you will do this promptly.” I smiled a smile that was more akin to baring my teeth. “Your pledge of obeisance to me can wait until the morning.”

Ada’s eyes flashed fire. She opened her mouth and closed it again, spots of color burning in her cheeks. “I will not...”

“Then you may leave now and seek employ in another household. It will not trouble me.” I spoke with indifference when once I would have shouted. “I believe Dunbar might be the closest keep, and surely you could reach it in several days of hard walking.” I smiled again. “Of course, I could not grant a steed or a wagon to someone fleeing my service.”

She glared at me, her outrage worsened by my composure. I was delighted that I was finally better at her ploy than she. My siblings were silent. Fitz coughed into his hand and, if I had not known better, I might have thought he disguised a chuckle. Ada’s brother watched us, his gaze flat.

Finally Ada straightened, then inclined her head stiffly. “As you wish, my lady,” she said, as if the words were poison upon her tongue.

With that, she pivoted and marched back through the gates. Her brother hesitated but a moment before he ambled after her, leaving the four of us in the rain.

Another soul might have been daunted, but I was bolstered. The first clash in this latest battle with Ada had fallen in my favor. I fully expected that Ada would flee that night, but I did not care. She could not steal all of Ravensmuir and whatsoever she left would be more than we had had this very morning.

“Do you intend to linger in the rain all the night long?” I demanded gaily. Fortune had smiled upon us and I was determined to make some merriment, the better to forget my misgivings about Merlyn’s demise.

I beamed at my silent siblings. “It is Christmas Day, after all, and our circumstances are vastly improved. Surely that is cause for some cheer?” I nodded at Fitz, then strode into the hall of Ravensmuir as if it were my own.

Because, of course, it was.

* * *

III

There is something in the wind when foul fortune is pending. Dogs are made uneasy with it. Cats will coil themselves into watchful balls before the fire when they sense it. And I, too, since my burn was inflicted, feel it in the wound.

Indeed, I began to itch with it as soon as we crossed the threshold of Ravensmuir. I was certain that I was watched, that some hungry gaze kept vigil over me. It was an eerie sensation and made the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.

I attributed it, though, to Ada’s sour welcome and refused to bend to her malicious will.

The great hall was cold and barren, not so much as a candle lit within its echoing expanse, and it seemed to me to be haunted by Merlyn. He must have stayed here recently, if not several nights past, and the yawning emptiness of the keep seemed to echo with that.

I peered into every corner, expecting to find him laughing at me. I glanced over my shoulder a dozen times, anticipating that he would be lurking in the shadows, a gleam of triumph in his eyes that he had made me the butt of his jest yet again.

There was nothing but dust in the shadows.

Dust and memories.

Unexpected tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. I would not weep for Merlyn Lammergeier. I knew too much of his dark secrets to mourn his passing.

All the same, I was uneasy. Perhaps Merlyn’s ghost would have preferred that I mourned him as diligently as Ada. His specter would have to wait an eternity for that.

Indeed, I sought festive cheer with a vengeance, as if I would thwart even this meager expectation of me.

“Look at this old hall,” I declared to none in particular. “It has not seen a merry Christmastide in years. Matters shall be different now that we abide here.”