Phaera, uncomfortable with the direction of Bain’s questions, turned away and made a show of organizing her shelf of bottled ointments, though they all stood in a straight line with their label facing forward. “And why does this concern you?”
“I have become privy to certain information that may have a bearing on that. Also, I have some opinions on it.”
Phaera whirled on him, hoping the shadows hid the angry tears that threatened to spill over her eyelids. “Do you imagine I care one whit for your opinions?”
Bain acknowledged that with a solemn nod. “Perhaps not. But I think I have some understanding of your position. Hear me out.”
Phaera turned away again. “You give me little choice.” But she found herself listening more carefully.
“I will not be long … And that is the crux of what I have to say - choice – or rather the lack of it. You see, I too, have lived a life of choice until recent events took that from me. As the bastard son of a peasant healer-woman, my future was not determined by fate. I had several options as to what occupation I would pursue. While none would make me wealthy, I was content. Then, two years ago, without warning, Lord Makin plucked me from my mother’s home and trained me to my current duty.”
Phaera did not turn back to look at Bain, but this strange turn piqued her interest enough that her hands stilled. No rebuttal came to mind.
Bain continued. “Do not imagine that I welcomed my new status, that the wealth and power of it lured me, or that I did not feel the immensity of the burden thrust upon me. No. Henceforth my life will be driven by duty – the duty to safeguard my people, to govern them with justice and what wisdom I can muster, to ally with those who will make it more likely that unrest, even war, can be prevented. If I am to meet the challenges before me then almost all choice has been taken from me. My life is now driven solely be duty. Or rather, any choices I make will be determined by duty.”
When Phaera did not respond he asked, “Do you understand?”
“I am listening.”
“You resist the fate that your accident of birth has placed upon you. I understand that. But what I present to you is that your father, mine, myself, all those who hold the fates of others in their hands, also have few choices. When one is responsible for the future of many, duty must take precedence over desire. I did not choose to be heir to Marston. And I, too, will be required to find a bride and produce an heir so that stability may be preserved for my people. We are not so different in this.”
Still Phaera did not turn to him, shaken by the truth of what he said. He sounds just like Papa.
After a moment’s silence Bain said, “I thank you for listening … and I have more that may bear on how you receive what I have told you. News has come to me, from a trusted source, that there is unrest in Exalon and Belthorn. Since Lord Dern of Exalon is in poor health it seems that it will not be long before Erstine inherits. I have no doubt that you are fully aware that he will not be an effective ruler. Lord Mathune, recently come to power in Belthorn since his father’s death, is ambitious and, I think, devious. My source tells me that he is rallying support and that he plans to overthrow Exalon and annex it to Belthorn. That will place the balance of power in jeopardy and threaten the alliances on which we rely for peace.”
Now, Phaera did turn to face him, surprised. “You know of this? How? I only learned of it yesterday.”
Bain raised his eyebrows. “You are aware of it already?”
Disdain crept into Phaera’s voice. “My sex does not deprive me of intellect. I am aware of events that may affect the balance of power. My father has his informants. And I am well versed in politics and strategy.”
“I do not doubt it, milady, but this news is so recent.”
Phaera could see she had caught Bain off balance. But the flash of surprise passed quickly.
“Now, Milady, as you have made it plain that you wish to work alone I will take my leave of you. I have spoken what I intended, if only to let you know that I have sympathy for your position, and to suggest that mine makes me different from other men. I am not indifferent to your plight as it is not so different from my own.” He gave Phaera a low bow, and left …
Chapter Nine
PHAERA MAKES A PLAN
He stopped short of suggesting we ought to wed. Why? And I must give him his due. It took courage to be so direct with me. Phaera had slept little for two nights. Bain’s speech had added to the turmoil her father had begun. Does he know of my dilemma? Surely not. Papa would never let that slip before we come to an agreement.
She rose before dawn and, after forcing down some bread and honey, followed by a small wedge of cheese and some sage tea, donned the same gown she had worn to the first banquet.
This was the day all the guests would gather at the gate on horseback, dressed in their finest, and ride out in procession to return to their respective home fiefs.
The tradition provided a final grand spectacle to mark the end of each gathering. The people lined the square to watch them ride out. Two chairs, elaborately carved with the Kinterron coat of arms on their backs, stood on a platform just inside to the left of the gate where Phaera would sit beside Lord Danza on the one normally reserved for the lord’s lady. A few other dignitaries would also have chairs under the canopy to watch their guests leave. Every guest would be dressed in their finest - the young lords in court attire, and the men charged with keeping them safe, in dress uniform.
Each party wore its colours and had its family crest embroidered on the blankets that draped their horses’ rumps. Banners fluttered from poles attached to saddles, held proudly in place by the riders. When the gate opened a trumpet fanfare would accompany their departure.
Phaera’s ladies wove pearls into her hair and arranged it high on her head, accenting her long neck. More pearls hung from her earlobes and around her neck. A heavy sapphire pendant at the bottom of the double strand rested just above the edge of her neckline, where it accented the hint of breasts below. The sash around her waist also had pearls embroidered into it with gold thread.
Phaera frowned at her reflection in the polished silver mirror. Usually she did not even bother to check her appearance. Today she studied herself without knowing why and made an adjustment to her sash. Her admirers had often told her how much pearls accented her raven hair and translucent skin. She had to admit they were right. But she wished even one of them would see the mind behind the decorations. She sighed as she turned to leave. At least Papa will be pleased today – a proper ornament for the dais as the guests all prance and preen before going back where they belong. I suppose I can take some comfort from that.
On the dais as the procession began Phaera found herself searching for Bain in the crowd and spotted him, surrounded by his men. He rode a proud roan stallion that tossed its head, eager to be off. She admired the control Bain had over his mount, the ease with which he sat him. This was also the first time she had seen him in court attire. The dress tunic of deep green, embroidered with the coat of arms of Marston, and the matching cloak, set off his deep russet hair, tied into a neat club at the nape of his neck. There was nothing of the bastard in his bearing. He sat, tall and proud, answering his men with a nod here, a few words there. So… his men show him the respect due an heir to a fief. They have accepted him. Phaera had to admit that Bain cut a handsome figure.
A glance to her left caught her father watching her, following the direction of her gaze. She abruptly sat straighter, tossed her head and stared in the other direction, feigning disinterest. They had not spoken since her father’s declaration. Nor was she ready to do so now.
Bain’s group was second last to exit the gate. As he passed the dais he turned and bowed from the saddle, first to her father, then, a sad smile sketching his lips, another directly to her before sitting straight and signaling his men to ride out.
As soon as the procession had gone Phaera rose and, without a backward glance, strode to her chamber. She needed to take off the heavy jewe
lry that seemed to mock her. Its weight mirrored her dark mood. But donning her comfortable work shift did nothing to allay the burden on her mind.
By midday she reached a decision of sorts. She flung open the door to her father’s chamber, unannounced, and stood, feet planted and arms akimbo, in front of the same table where he had announced she must wed.
It disturbed her somewhat that he did not seem surprised to see her.
Lord Danza indicated the vacant chair beside her with a calm sweep of his hand. “Phaera, how good to see you. Please sit down.” When she made no move to take the proffered seat he simply relaxed into his and waited for her to speak first.
“We need to talk.”
The calm raise of one eyebrow told Phaera her father had expected something of the sort.
He said nothing more; merely clasped his hands loosely together and placed them in his lap. It made Phaera want to stamp her feet and shout at him. This familiar response when her father expected her to say or do something outrageous put her off balance. How dare you not take me seriously. She hid her hands behind her skirt so that he would not see her clenched fists and fought for self-control. An image of Bain, as he had made his speech to her, the dignity with which he had spoken, showed her what she needed to do. She unclenched her fists, relaxed her shoulders and lowered herself into the chair beside her, taking time to gather her thoughts.
“We are at an impasse. You wish me to marry – contrary to your oath to me – and I do not.”
“Go on.”
“We both know there is only one name on your list that I would even remotely consider.”
“I assume you mean Bain of Marston. I expect you understand my reasoning.”
The matter-of-fact way he said it confirmed Phaera’s deductions. I will not fall in line so easily. “Yet, I will not be forced.”
Silence.
When she could bear the silence no longer Phaera said, “It could be very awkward if I refused publicly. I have no desire to cause you such embarrassment so I hope we can come to an agreement.”
She watched a ripple of anger cross her father’s face, gone so quickly she almost missed it, before he answered, once more in control.
“I am gratified to hear it.”
He leaned forward, forearms in front of him on the table, hands still loosely clasped. “Perhaps it will be wise of me to hear you out before I come to the conclusion that I have been too indulgent in not impressing upon you your first duty, which is to our people. Think carefully before you speak.”
That stung. She had come with the intention of holding the upper hand. But her father had neatly taken that from her.
Before she could think of a response Lord Danza softened slightly. “I assume you came here with something to say – a proposal perhaps?”
“I need to know more before I agree to consider a betrothal to Bain. My reputation is at stake. Do you forget that he is a bastard, undesirable by most standards – or that I can have any man I choose?”
“Phaera, such immodesty is unbecoming.”
Phaera bristled at the rebuke. “So honesty is now immodesty? Is that what we have come to?”
Lord Danza studied her a moment before giving his head a slow, sad shake. Without acknowledging her challenge he went back to their original conversation.
“And what is it you need,” Lord Danza went on, “that will help you with your decision?”
Phaera leaned toward him, placing her hands flat on the desk.
“Time. I need time to let my patients know I will be leaving. And I must know more about Bain, to see how he acts - as heir to Marston, as a man, a leader. Three short conversations are not enough to tell me if I can tolerate him – if I can ...” She lowered her head to hide the blush she felt rising in her cheeks. “I need to know more about him, about Marston, about how he is with his men, at court … and more about his mother. How does the court treat her?” Her voice cracked as she added, “And how can I give up my life’s work? It is too much to contemplate. I need time to prepare myself…to grieve.” She buried her face in her hands.
“Indeed. And the losses will not be yours alone, but mine, too, and that of the people you serve so faithfully. I cannot say how much I will miss you.” He unclasped his arms and opened them on the desk, toward her. “I, too, have been thinking. It is yet early spring. We have a little time still – though the decision must be public before winter makes travel difficult. Perhaps a state visit to Marston, you and I, would help. You can become reacquainted with the area, the court, with Bain - possibly even his mother, before a formal decision is announced.” He brightened somewhat, adding, “I have seen that Bain has eyes only for you. You may find him more attractive than you expect.”
“Do not distract me with romantic nonsense. I care nothing for his ‘eyes’.”
Lord Makin’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “You may be surprised by what such things can achieve. You must at least allow for the possibility.”
“And if I refuse to wed him?”
Lord Danza sighed. “You know, according to the law, I can force you … You also know that I cannot bear to send you into any union with a man you despise.”
The admission surprised Phaera, though she knew in her heart he was correct. Relieved by his confession she took a moment before responding.
“Then I will travel with you to Marston. Bain’s mother is a healer. My hope is that she will become my friend, that I will find someone who will understand my … will understand me.”
“My hope is that Bain will become that person.”
Phaera had no answer for that. She knew he was right. Yet she could not bring herself to consider how that might happen. “Lord Makin will conclude that we are already considering a match.”
“Then I must make him understand that nothing is decided. I also need a promise from you.”
Phaera’s head shot up, a prickle of warning creeping up her spine. “What sort of promise?”
“That you will behave in a manner that befits your position and your duty to our hosts. With me you are free to speak your mind. There you must remain circumspect. Show them the respect they are due. Do I have your word?”
“I will do my best not to embarrass you ... and I must have some time privately with Bain’s mother.”
“I will make the request. More I cannot do.”
“How soon must we leave?”
“I will show you the scroll tomorrow before I send it. I think we must allow them two weeks to prepare. You will not be able to avoid some public banquets and such.” He sent her a warning glance. “I think five days there will suffice. Else they will surely assume a match is already decided.”
Phaera gave a resigned nod, rose, and made to leave. “I will prepare myself.”
As she opened the door she heard, “Please join me at dinner tonight, daughter of my heart.”
The softness in his voice made her throat catch. Without turning back, so he would not see the tears that threatened to spill, she said, “I will Papa.”
Chapter Ten
BAIN’S QUANDARY
“Father, I cannot, in good conscience, wed a woman who has no feelings for me, who has no wish to wed. Nor can I lie with a woman who does not wish it. Lady Phaera has my heart but if she is pressed to wed me against her will she will hate me. She has shown nothing but disdain for me – and for marriage.”
Lord Makin remained firm. “Time often changes such feelings. She will come to see that you deserve her respect. And she will understand that it is best for her people and the alliance.”
“Even if that should happen, it is not enough.”
“It must be enough.”
Bain shook his head. “I will not put her in such a position. If she will not have me willingly, then I shall endeavor to find another who will.”
Lord Makin remained impassive. “Perhaps. You have some time yet – though it cannot wait much longer. Do not try my patience too far. ”
“Besides, she has a bad
temper.”
Lord Makin’s laugh followed him out the door.
The conversation had taken place in his father’s private chamber on Bain’s return from the Gathering.
He had a similar one with his mother, Nurias, the next day. She listened with care, eliciting details he had left out with his father.
The scent of herbs hanging from the rafters, the humble hearth, that even in this warm weather was kept lit, lent a comforting warmth to the familiar cabin. It soothed some of the tension out of his body.
Nurias put an arm around Bain’s shoulders. “Duty can be a painful burden. Your father and I were very much in love when you were conceived. But we were young and soon he was called to his duty - as are you, now. And, in time, he too found another to whom he could give his heart.”
“But you did not.”
“I had offers. But I had you. I had my work … and I was never again so foolish.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze before dropping her arm. “But you have no child, no union with her. You will get over her and accept another.”
“Was one of them the millwright?”
Bain watched a wistful smile cross his mother’s face. “Yes, he was a good man. But he could not give us the life we needed. He needed a mother for his sons and I needed to continue my work. He found another.”
Ten days later the scroll arrived from Kinterron with the request for a formal visit. When Lord Makin showed it to him Bain was incredulous. “This must be due to pressure from Lord Danza. She would never agree otherwise. It changes nothing.” Does it? Surely not. He shook the thought away along with a frisson of excitement and hope.
Lord Makin’s voice was stern. “Do not discount fortune. We both know you are the logical choice for her. And you must have a bride.”
Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn Page 6
