by Sandra Elsa
Bella went to the stables to get the gear she had been issued and the few personal belongings she’d collected since she began traveling with Johann. She pulled a carrot from her pack and fed it to Angel, asking him, “What have you gotten me into?” He radiated love and caring, soothing her fears. After throwing him some hay, and topping off his water, she brushed him down. Then she picked up the gear and headed back toward the cottages.
She passed Trace on his way to the stables. He stopped her and asked, “Can I still call you Sis? Some of these guys want me to introduce them, and we do have the same last name. It might be good if they think I’m here to protect your virtue.”
Smiling she said, “I'll have protection, don’t forget, Conall is coming in tonight. But I would very much like you to remain my brother, and protect my virtue.” She smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
With a faint blush, he turned rapidly to the stables. She hadn’t considered the possibility he would be embarrassed if she kissed him. She caught a stray flare of emotion from Conall, strong, but quickly muffled as though he didn’t want her to notice it.
Passing the barracks she caught the stares of several young men. At that moment, Captain Torel stepped out of the first cottage carrying an armload of books. He scowled at the men staring at her and they suddenly all found things to do, even if it was just staring fixedly at the ground.
He walked over to her cottage and followed her in. “Don’t lead them on,” he said as soon as the door was closed. “They are very good soldiers, but they are only men. You will make certain they realize you are not interested.”
“Is that an order, Sir?” she asked. He had not yet raised his voice to her and his attitude confused her. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Yes Corporal, it is. The task of maintaining discipline within my ranks falls to me, and you could easily destroy that. I don’t care if you tell them you’re engaged to a boy back home or that you prefer the company of women, but you will make it clear to them, that you aren’t interested. Do I make myself clearly understood?”
“Yes, Sir!” she replied in a very good imitation of every other soldier she had seen answer one of his questions.
“Very good, Corporal,” he said and then the glowering Captain was gone and Torel was back. “Since I'm forcing you to become a recluse, and you won’t be permitted to participate in a basic training program with the Regular Army, I’ve brought you a little light reading. If you’re having trouble sleeping, these will help. Most of them are rather boring, but you might want to start with the one on top, it will explain general military terms and acronyms. Once you have that figured out, you might want to try the one on rules and regulations, although you will learn those rapidly in my unit. Here’s one book you may find interesting,” he said as he shuffled through the books. He pulled one out bound in worn leather with the gilded title History Of The King’s Guard. “When you’re through with them I’d appreciate it if you’d return them, they’re my personal copies.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She saluted him in what she hoped was a reasonably good imitation of all the other salutes she’d seen in the last couple of days. But he walked over to her, folded two fingers down tighter and turned her hand a bit.
“Sloppy, Corporal. Work on that, and notify me when your visitor arrives. I’m right next-door. I’ve assigned a female sergeant to show you around, she’ll be here shortly.”
“Can’t Trace show me around?”
“And who will show him? This is not the Army he knew. Don’t worry, you’ll like Sergeant Alva.” And with that he left her alone to settle into her new home.
The cottage could best be described as Spartan. Nothing adorned the walls, nor was there evidence that anything ever had. The windows were covered with heavy, eggshell colored drapes. There was a bed with linen sheets and a blanket that matched the color of the drapes, neatly folded on the end of it. She placed the mail, shield, sword and helm she had been issued in a plain cedar chest at the foot of the bed. The black and gold Guard uniforms she hung carefully in the pine armoire, which occupied one corner. Her undergarments, including the padding that went under the mail, she folded and placed in the top drawer of the dresser by the wall. Her personal clothes went into the middle drawer and her personal weapons in the bottom. There was a washbasin—that also matched the eggshell color of the drapes—in the corner, but there was no bucket to carry water. Well, she supposed Sergeant Alva would show her that.
She took one of the uniforms back out of the armoire and put it on. The material was sturdy but soft. The trousers were black with gold piping down the sides they were a little long and loose, they had been the smallest supply had. The tunic was long sleeved with gold braid on the shoulders, a golden unicorn emblazoned on the back. The tunic was also large, a bit broad through the shoulders, the sleeves covered her fingertips and it fell nearly to her knees.
With a sigh she started digging for her thread and needle. Just as she found it, a knock came at her door. The woman standing in the doorway was tall and bronze with close-cropped black hair and weather-roughened skin. Not a beauty—plain in fact—but her face was friendly and open. Her uniform was immaculate, with creases in the trousers and not a speck of dirt to be seen, even on the boots.
“Corporal Gunter?”
At Bella’s nod, she continued, “I’m here to show you around. My name is Sergeant Alva but you can call me Robin.”
This went counter to the little, Trace had told her about military traditions and formality. Her thoughts must have showed on her face because Robin continued, “Unless we’re on duty at the palace or in training, we don’t stand much on the formality of rank. Don’t get me wrong, if a sergeant orders you to jump, the correct response is, ‘How high, Sergeant?’ and then you will endeavor to perform as well as you might. But the Guard is closely knit, we’re all friends.”
Bella, stretched out a hand that was accepted warmly, and introduced herself.
“Captain Torel told me you won’t be doing basic and I’m to help you as much as possible.” She took a long look at Bella then shook her head. “First stop is the seamstress to get those fitted. You look like you’re playing soldier in your big brother’s gear. How did a little bitty thing like you ever get first strike on our Captain while sparring?”
Bella blushed and said, “I think he let me.”
“Never, girl.” Sergeant Alva’s husky laugh, was more of a snort than a downright guffaw but the humor was there. “If there’s one thing you’ll learn about the Captain it’s that he plays to win. I call it playing now, but when I was first assigned to the Guard, I’d been RA, that’s Regular Army, ten years, and his fun and games like to wore me out. Trust me, you stung his pride the other morning.”
When Bella declaimed, “It was only luck.” Robin shook her head in disbelief.
“You believe what you want then. Grab those other uniforms, let’s move.”
Bella rolled up the sleeves of the tunic she was wearing, then took down all the uniforms she’d just hung. There were six tunics, two long sleeve, and two sleeveless dress uniforms plus two solid black sleeveless work uniforms, and a pair of trousers for each tunic. She was wearing one of the long sleeved tunics.
“Leave the solid tunics, “Robin told her, “When the Captain, or the Weaponsmaster is chasing you around the salle you’ll want those loose enough to move in.”
Captain Torel was in front of his quarters as they left, speaking to two older sergeants. One of them had twenty-five year marks sewn on the side of his sleeve, Robin whispered and pointed, “That’s First Sergeant Corwin.” The other had only fourteen year marks but he looked very much the battle hardened veteran. A scar running from the corner of his right eye, back through his hair to where the lobe of his ear used to be, made him frightening to look at. He carried himself with an air of graceful competence. With a nudge, Robin added, “The weapons instructor, Master Manlin. He prefers to be called, Weaponsmaste
r.”
Torel stopped them and with a nod said, “Sergeant Alva. Corporal Gunter. On your way to the seamstress I see. Please give this to her,” and he handed Robin a sealed letter. “Tell her she’ll be paid from the Guard treasury.”
“Yes, Sir!” Robin snapped a salute and Bella followed suit. A shake of Torel’s head as he returned the salute told her she still needed work.
They went into the palace and in a small room on the ground floor was the seamstress’s shop.
Bella found herself surrounded by bolts of cloth of every color and type imaginable, from the finest silks to a coarse brown material she had only seen used in feed sacks. Bolts of black material, of the same quality as her new uniforms, took up an entire corner of the room. That told Bella who one of the seamstress’s largest customers was.
A small woman with silver hair looked up from where she was hemming the skirt of a beautiful emerald dress, when they entered the room. One look at the ill fitting uniform told her why they were here.
“Sellene,” she called brusquely towards the door of a second room. A girl of about twelve, popped out in response to the summons.
“Yes, Grandmamma?” she questioned.
“Measure this young Guardsman for alterations.”
Robin pulled out the letter from Captain Torel and handed it to Sellene. She broke the seal, scanned the contents of the letter and turned to her grandmother, looking confused.
“Grandmamma, this is from the Captain Prince, he says we’re to make four dresses for her as well. Two in the style of our Court and two in whatever is the current fashion in Telgar. How are we to know that?”
“I will have to look into it. Does he say when they’re to be ready?”
“The two for our Court he says you're to drop all other work to complete as soon as possible. The other two he does not need until spring.”
“Very well, take her measurements and find a color that will go with that hair and those brown eyes.” The old woman’s sharp gaze focused on Bella. “You’re not from around here, are you?” She asked, and then answered herself in the same breath, “No, no, not from Telgar either.” She paused briefly for Bella to acknowledge she was correct, then continued, “Burgundy, start with burgundy.” Then with a disgusted shake of her head and a glance around the room she said, “Of course, these days they’re all wearing bright colors whether they look good in them or not.” She held up a skirt from the dress she was working on. “This color for one of them, and maybe yellow or scarlet. What are you waiting for, get on with it girl,” she turned back to her work, dismissing them as though they’d never walked through her door.
The next hour and a half were exciting for Bella. She had never owned new clothes in her life. Even when her father had been alive her clothes had been second hand from the merchants’ daughters. To be able to pick the color and material of new dresses was beyond the dreams of a slave, yet here she stood.
Robin had a very good eye for color and while Bella preferred the burgundy that the seamstress had recommended first, both Robin and Sellene assured her it was not what young ladies were wearing these days. She ended with an emerald green as Mistress Senta suggested, and a bright pink with vertical pinstripes of burgundy.
She couldn’t quite stand still while the girl measured her. Several measurements had to be taken more than once.
When Sellene had everything she needed, Robin led her on a tour of the lower level of the palace, which in this area consisted of many small shops.
From what Bella could see, most of them were kept in business by the Guard.
They left the palace and went to the mess hall. This one was very much like the one for the RA but only one quarter the size.
“All the Guard are expected to take their meals here, we all get to pull duty here too,” Robin informed her.
“What type of duty?”
“You name it. Anything Master Rull needs, from serving food, to washing dishes.” She made a face at the last.
“I don’t mind washing dishes—I used to do plenty of that. Especially when the Mistress threw a party. I’d wash dishes, set the tables, clear them afterward, serve food and anything the cook might need help with.”
“Rull will love you. Let me introduce you to him.” They went back in the kitchen where a tall, portly, middle-aged man with black hair was trying to organize the evening meal.
His eyes lit when he saw Robin. “Ah, my favorite dish washer.”
Robin smiled at him and shook her head, “Not tonight Rull. I just wanted to introduce you to Bella. You may find her more useful than the rest of us—she used to be a servant in a large household.”
The man’s eyes lit up. “It is a great pleasure to meet you. Most of these young people don’t have the slightest idea how to do anything in the kitchen, or at least they won’t admit to it. I look forward to seeing you here. Now I must go knock some heads before all my food is ruined and dishes broken.”
With that he scuttled off to bring order to his domain, brandishing a wooden spoon.
Robin led her back outside and they walked to Bella’s cottage. As they passed a long low building, Robin pointed to it and said, “Those are the showers.” Then her finger swung to another building. “Those are the barracks, females on that end, males opposite.” She looked at Bella with a curious smile, “So how did you talk the Captain into giving you a cottage? It’s not like the female barracks are overcrowded.”
How to put this… She could feel Conall waiting to hear her explanation. What was he waiting for? “I’m expecting a companion, who will be staying with me. He doesn’t exactly socialize much, but the Captain wanted to meet him.” She felt disappointment from Conall. What had he wanted?
“Friend.” She heard clearly, “I’d hoped you’d call me, friend.”
“So there is a male friend then.” Robin’s eyebrows arched expectantly waiting for more gossip she could pass on later. “Don’t make me pull it out of you, we Guards don’t have secrets from each other.”
“Well he is male, and he is a friend,” Bella agreed, smiling at Conall’s happiness.
“How old is he? Where’s he from? What’s his name? Is he also a Guard? Let’s have it girl.”
“Let’s see,” Bella bit her upper lip considering how to tell Robin about Conall, ultimately deciding to keep it light and vague. “Age; much older than I am. Last residence; the mountains north of Trell. Name; Conall, unless he remembers his real name, and also a Guard… well he used to be.”
Conall snorted laughter. “That’ll teach her to be nosy.”
“Let’s just get the rest of the questions out of the way. Hair color? Tan and silver. Lover? One great mental connection but not much else. Build? Tall and lean, an excellent example of his species. Have I missed anything? Oh, eye color? Gray.”
“Sorry I asked,” Robin said laughingly. “Will we get to meet him?”
“That would be entirely up to him. He’s been something of a recluse.”
“Don’t think I didn’t catch the odd responses, but I’ll let it go for now.”
Bella opened the door to her cottage. “Here we are, home sweet home.”
“There’s a pump out behind the fifth cottage. You can fill the wash basin and we’ll clean up, then go eat,” Robin told her.
In her absence a bucket and towels had been placed inside. She carried the bucket to where Robin had indicated the pump was, filled it, and returned to find Robin paging through the manuals Captain Torel had left.
She looked up, “Well I guess you won’t have any problem drifting off at night. How nice of the Captain to loan you his own personal sleeping remedies. It was bad enough sitting through classes on this stuff. I couldn’t imagine trying to read it. If you like, I can help you learn it so you don’t have to read the manuals.”
As she emptied the water into the washbasin, Bella said, “I may just take you up on that. There’s one in there I’d like to go through. Torel said, History Of the Guard, may be worth read
ing.”
Robin looked sympathetic, “It’s still a text book, dry as a bone. Come over to the barracks and we can fill you in on history. In fact Bethany, Sergeant Nunia, is a history buff. She knows the text inside and out and can lighten it up with some knowledge of the personalities behind the deeds. All she ever does when she’s off duty is study. If you’re interested in history you two will get along great.”
Bella threw a towel to Robin and they washed up. “Did you need to stop at the barracks on our way to the mess hall?” Bella asked.
“I’d like to stop and see if Eleyn has already gone.”
“Great.”
The sun was setting when they left for the mess hall. Bella felt anxiety settling on her like a cloak, and she wondered if the anxiety was hers or Conall’s.
They went to the barracks. Robin’s friend was still getting ready. As they waited for her to put her hair up, Bella looked around the room she was in. It was one long open bay with a low ceiling. Beds lined the walls. A chest sat at the foot of every bed, and a locker with four drawers in the bottom, against the wall.
The beds were all done up as neatly as Mistress Sarra, Mistress Henna’s head housekeeper, had ever made one. Inwardly Bella groaned. That was one task she had never been able to perform good enough for Mistress Sarra. It looked like she’d have to try again to learn. Tying up a bedroll was so much easier.
There were a few personal belongings set out on the chests at the end of the beds, but by and large, every bed mirrored every other and by the time they were ready to go, all personal items had been stowed away in either the locker or the chest. No hint of the owner’s personality was to be deciphered from their living space, although some of the lockers had been much more neatly maintained than others, from the brief glimpses she got as doors opened and closed.
There were nearly sixty beds in the barracks but less than half of them had sheets and blankets. Bella wondered if this meant the Guard was not up to strength or if the ranks were just filled instead with men. Surely numbers varied throughout the years.
Noting her glance Robin said, “The last couple of years have not been good for recruiting women in the Army, at least not of the type the Guard requires. There are still plenty in the RA but the Guard requires certain characteristics and values that are not always easy to come by. Numbers fluctuate. This is the lowest we’ve ever been. The Guard is still full strength, but there are so many men, they have bunk beds and share lockers. There’s talk of moving the wall this way if things don’t change soon.”
Conall was in her head surveying the empty bunks. “This is all wrong. Torel must keep it balanced.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know…”
Chapter 31
