The Blight of Muirwood (14 page)

The Aldermaston’s voice throbbed with anger. “I beg you to excuse me, but I cannot allow that. When I last permitted the king’s men permission to enter these grounds, my hospitality was egregiously violated. You understand full well that these lands do not fall within the jurisdiction of the crown. Your late husband understood this.”

“Then why has there not been an inquest then into my husband’s murder? To see that those who brought it about are punished severely? It is wickedness to murder an anointed king. Your lack of interest in this matter, as you say, is of great concern to me.”

The Aldermaston’s voice became raspy. “Only the sheriff of Mendenhall has the authority to investigate the matter.”

“What sheriff of Mendenhall? There has been no word from him since he came to this Abbey! He was last seen in Muirwood!”

“Correction, Queen Dowager. He was seen riding the road with plans of joining up with the king’s army which was converging on a battlefield. In all likelihood, he was never numbered with the dead or he joined the marauding survivors and is one of them. The young king has not named a successor and what have I to do with that? I have not seen the sheriff since that moment. To insinuate that he met an ill fate here in Muirwood is preposterous. I must bid you good night, Queen Dowager. Your unexpected arrival this evening has caused added concerns for my cook as well as those I am responsible for. There are orders and instructions to be made.”

Her voice sounded dismissive. “I will not be troubled with your inconveniences. As you say, I am unwanted as a guest at this moment. We are waylaid by a storm, that is all. Our destination is the village of Winterrowd. I travel with my men at arms because this Hundred is lawless – a situation that you do nothing to prevent.”

“This is an Abbey, Queen Dowager, not a garrison. I have no resources to speak of, nor do I have jurisdiction in this Hundred.”

Her voice was chilling. “Then best you remember that, Aldermaston. You have no garrison here, as you say. You too are at the mercy of these roving bands of thieves and mercenaries from Pry-Ree. I should loathe to hear of any treachery disturbing the peace of your domain.”

His reply was cold and even. “Then we understand one another, Queen Dowager. I bid you good evening. Prestwich, show her to her rooms.”

The sound of a door closing and voices heading down the hall could be heard. Lia gently prodded open the antechamber door. The Aldermaston was in his chair, brooding, his face a maze of wrinkles and crags.

“Come in, Lia,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow when Colvin followed. “You were unsuccessful in finding Scarseth.” It was not a question.

Lia shook her head. “We followed his trail to the Tor when the Cruciger orb warned us of danger. Men on horseback, dressed in black tunics chased us into the woods. We just came through the tunnels.”

“As I feared,” he whispered. “There are a dozen of her men at arms at the Pilgrim. I have refused them entry, except for one bodyguard and two ladies of the chamber. I dared not let the rest inside.”

“With good reason,” Lia said. “One followed our trail, in the dark, to the tunnel entrance. His eyes were glowing.”

The Aldermaston muttered darkly under his breath. “She has no mastons in her employ. Her husband hated them too. She comes from a strong Family, from the royal line of Dahomey. Though she is young, she is trained in the cunning of statecraft. Be on your guard with her or any of her servants. They may try and befriend you to learn more about the Abbey’s defenses. Be wary. I do not know how long this storm will last, but I need you to be vigilant this evening, Lia. She may try to abduct…”

A knock rapped on the door.

Before an announcement could be made, it opened and the Queen Dowager entered, with Prestwich looking flustered.

“Aldermaston, I warned her that…”

He held up his hand. “What is it now, Queen Dowager?”

She looked at Lia and Colvin, at their mud-spattered clothing. “I was going to ask for fresh horses for our ride tomorrow. But I am told, as you say, that Muirwood does not have sufficient stables? What guests are these, Aldermaston? More arrivals from the storm?”

“You will recognize the Earl of Forshee, I am sure,” the Aldermaston replied, his eyes glinting with anger at the sudden interruption. “The other is the Abbey hunter. They were indeed caught by the storm.”

The Queen Dowager looked at Lia, her eyes running from her tangled damp hair to muddy boots. Lia had never met someone so darkly beautiful before. Raven hair spilled down her back. She wore a raven dress threaded with silver weave and a bodice cut so low that it was shocking. Earrings made of diamonds and ropes of jewelry around her neck and throat, with a large spider-like medallion showing a family crest set against her pale olive skin. She looked amused by Lia’s appearance, her full mouth smiling, but her eyes disdaining.

“A very strange choice in hunters,” the Queen Dowager said mockingly. “I had heard he was an old man.” Then she looked at Colvin and a wicked glint came to her eyes. “So it is Lord Price. I hardly recognized you. I have gratitude to be returning in time for the Whitsun Festival. A quaint tradition in this country. I shall look forward to dancing with you.”

* * *

The sunrise came through a break in the clouds, painting the heavens in orange and gold. The thunderheads loomed over the Tor and another blast seemed destined to arrive shortly after, turning the already muddy grounds into an impassable mess. Lia and Colvin walked side by side from the gatehouse toward the kitchen.

“Thank you for walking the grounds with me tonight,” Lia said, trying not to yawn. “Right now, Pasqua and the girls have been awake for a while getting ready to feed all these guests. Pasqua will be in high dudgeon because it was unexpected and the ovens will be hot. Which means I will get a warm bath. And since she is awake and I have not slept, I will sleep in her bed in the manor house instead of up in the loft.” She smiled at him.

“A bed is better than sleeping behind barrels and listening to Pasqua in high dudgeon. I understand you completely.”

“Get some rest, Colvin. If you leave your clothes with Prestwich, I will clean them when I go to the laundry later.”

“That is thoughtful of you. May I join you there?”

She looked at him. “Washing clothes is not very interesting work.”

“But I enjoy your company. I wanted to share something with you as well, if you recall and preferred to wait until daylight.”

The words sent a thrill through her heart. “What about now?”

He smiled. “We are both exhausted. Later then?”

“Very well. I will be anxious to know what it is. When it comes time for you to move on to another Abbey, you will be tired of me. I have not had anyone I could talk to like this…before. I enjoy being with you.” A question came to her mind and before she could think better, it blurted out. “A few days ago, I saw you and Ellowyn by the laundry. What were you talking about?”

He looked thoughtful, his gaze ahead at the sunrise. “The Medium. I tried to explain it in terms she could understand. That the Medium can channel anything – that the
Leering
nearby could summon water as well as mix with fire to warm it.” He looked at her smugly. “So really I was teaching her something that you taught me. I thought that by putting it in a familiar setting that she would understand better – water and scrubbing and purple flowers – that it would help her.”

“Did it?” Lia asked, already suspecting the answer.

He shook his head. “She is still so frightened by it. You would make a better teacher than my sister or I. That the power of the Medium is already inside of her, just waiting for its freedom. But the Aldermaston forbids it. He does not want anyone else knowing about you.”

Lia was grateful to be spared that. Oh, she pitied Ellowyn’s inability to muster anything with the Medium. But considering her advantages – her noble bloodline, her training in languages and tomes, Lia had difficulty rousing much sympathy for the girl.

They reached the manor and parted ways, Lia waving to him as he entered while she went on to the kitchen. Already the separation from him began to torment her. The memories bonded them together in ways that did not exist with others, not even Sowe. They had shared hunger and thirst, slept on the same prickly ground, witnessed the burning of a grove by a Leering with her face carved in it, buried a man under a pile of stones. They even shared a blood-stained battlefield in common. There were no forced words between them. No inward questioning about what to say next. And he had something he wanted to show her, something written in his tome. She pulled open the kitchen doors, anxious to clean herself before seeing him.

As she had predicted, the kitchen was in an uproar. The smells struck her like a fist and she realized how starving she was.

“Another egg, Bryn. Over there…no, over there! Do not be wasteful.” Pasqua massaged her left shoulder, looking out of breath. She glanced over at Lia and shook her head. “Look at you, child. The Aldermaston had you out all night in that storm, did he? Another flood, I suspect? And here we have five hundred loaves baking, just like before.” She smiled, kneading her shoulder. “We have been busy, but Sowe and Bryn are good girls. They were working before I arrived, and I came early. Let me help you wash your hair. It is a thicket as always. You do not want to look like that in front of Colvin and Edmon. Not my girl.”

Lia almost told her that she had spent the entire night walking the Abbey grounds in the storm with Colvin, who insisted he accompany her in case any of the riders entered the borders of the Abbey grounds. She was so exhausted, she accepted Pasqua’s help because it would bring sleep faster. She hid the Cruciger orb and stowed her hunter gear and garb, while Pasqua went to the changing screen and started fetching warm water from the kettle.

“You heard about the Queen Dowager from the Aldermaston no doubt,” Pasqua said. “I got a good look at her last night. She is a dangerous one, she is. The cut of her dresses. It is shameful, this being an Abbey. Poor learners will not be able to concentrate at all while she stays. Let me hold up your hair, child. Oh, this is filthy. Like you were crawling through brambles and mud on purpose.” Warm water drenched the crown of her head and dripped brown from the muddy ends. With a cake of soap and a good scouring, Pasqua helped clean her hair and neck and talked about the visitors, the food they would serve, wondering how long they would stay, while Lia listened to the chatter from Sowe and Bryn.

It was the softness of their voices that attracted her interest. They were trying not to be overheard.

“I think he will come earlier today,” Bryn said softly. “Earlier than yesterday.”

“It will likely rain all day. He is bored and likes telling stories.”

“You know it is more than that. He likes you, Sowe.”

Sowe was quiet a moment. “He is very kind, but he does not care for me, Bryn. He is just friendly. Lia told me.”

“That may be what Ciana said, but I have eyes! You should see the way he looks at you. He does not look at me that way. Not at Pasqua.” Their voices fell even softer and Lia strained to hear. “How long was Colvin gone before Edmon even realized it? He enjoys coming here. Being with you.”

“Being with
us
,” Sowe corrected. “Besides, he is nearly finished with all his maston training already. He is bored.”

“I do not think so. And stop pretending you do not care, Sowe. I see the way you look at him when he talks.”

“You are acting like you are six,” Sowe muttered, quoting one of Lia’s favorite sayings.

“And you are not acting like you are nearly fifteen. Sowe, this is the year that the older boys start to notice us. Not the ones our age, but the older ones, like Edmon.”

“And Getman,” Sowe said softly.

“What I am saying is that you should watch for signs from him. Look for those little clues. He wants to be here in the kitchen instead of in the cloister with Ciana and Ellowyn. That says something. You should see his eyes light up when he makes you laugh. As if he craves it each time.”

“You laugh at his stories, too!”

“Of course I do! All I am saying is watch for it. Will he come earlier and earlier each day? How many times will he ask you to dance at Whitsunday? Will we…”

“He will dance with me once. Just like he said. He will ask us all.”

Bryn did not sound convinced. “You think so. But I have eyes. Tell me you do not care about him.”

“I do not care about him…not in that way. He is an earl, Bryn. I am a wretched. I do not love him. I do not love anyone.”

Lia remembered the quote Colvin had taught her.
Someone who says o'er much I love not is in love.

As the warm water dripped from her chin, her thoughts turned to Colvin and she winced. It was absurd. It was totally, completely absurd. She enjoyed his company. She had shared with him all those experiences that bound them together in mutual affection and caring. But as she had listened to Bryn’s words she began to wonder if she had been blind. Was Colvin telling her things with his eyes that he dared not say with his mouth? There were many hints. He found Ellowyn’s quiet demeanor attractive in a wretched, not a wife. He craved companionship, being equals with a woman. He wanted to spend time with Lia instead. He wanted to meet her later by the laundry to show her something in his tome. Just the thought of it sent a crushing feeling inside her chest. She could not wait until the afternoon.