by Amelia Brown
Despite the cold, Luveday accompanied Paige to visit Sir Chadric and Catherine. Catherine’s health had rallied, but it was clear that the couple was struggling. The few supplies she brought were excepted graciously as Luveday surveyed their winter garden. Paige stayed behind to do the washing, but Luveday returned to the keep after a few hours, chilled to the bone in the old drafty house. Something would have to be done, or she feared the Lander’s would not survive until spring.
A week had passed without news. Lander’s Keep housed a number of wounded knights who had come looking for aid. With nothing more to do, talk turned to De Lane and the upcoming wedding.
Luveday found herself thinking of the night she had shared with Iain and couldn’t quite stomach Christabel on those occasions. A part of her cringed at wanting another woman’s future husband, but the reality of the situation was not lost to her. Both parties were being forced to wed, and Luveday tried to make her attraction to the man disappear, but the saying proved to be true, absence did make the heart grow fonder.
Thoughts of their wedding turned to contemplating Elli and Gregori as the girl seemed to be pining for the missing warrior more each day. It was as she ascended the stairs, thinking of ways to decorate the chapel for such a happy occasion that she ran into Adela. Christabel was curiously absent.
The nurse seemed surprised and yet happy to see her. “Lady Luveday.”
“You may call me Luveday, if you wish, Adela.” The old woman had recently asked to drop the formality with the young woman but still called her Lady Luveday.
She laughed, having forgotten herself. “Luveday, if you would be so kind.” She pulled from her apron pocket a necklace made to resemble spring flowers. Luveday had always liked the piece though it suited Christabel’s coloring more than her own. “I retrieved a bobble for My Lady and found this,” holding up the necklace so that Luveday could see that the chain was broken and some of the flowers hung precariously from the rest. She continued, “and I have no notion of how to fix it. I know the keep has no jeweler and though the piece is only glass and metal it is one of My Lady’s favorites…”
Luveday got the gist of the plea and took the item to look at it. “This has seen some rough ware.” The flowers were an intricate lacework of metal accented by colored glass made to resemble more precious stones though the glass itself was something few could afford. “May I keep it and ask the other women if they have any ideas?” With Adela’s approval, Luveday pocketed the necklace and went about her duties remembering throughout the day to ask many about their opinion on how to repair the precious piece.
“Aye, I think I can manage it.” Barth had surprised her by admitting that he had been trying his hand a more delicate work over the years. “The link is easy enough, ‘tis the fine-work that will take some time. A hard hand could cause more damage. May I keep it for a spell?”
She didn’t have to think, Luveday trusted the blacksmith. “Of course, Barth. If you think you can repair it, keep it as long as it takes.” She smiled openly at him and was surprised to see the man blush.
“I swear ‘tis in good hands, My Lady.” Luveday was reassured, but his demeanor was too serious.
Nodding, she tried to encourage him. “I know it is, Barth. Thank you.”
The blacksmith only nodded and returned to his worktable near the forge. Luveday left him to contemplate on his own.
It was later that day that riders appeared proclaiming the King’s victory. Sterling had fled the country lest he loose his life, his supporters were left to make a stand, but with the head cut off of the snake, their endeavor was doomed at best. Luveday stopped listening when the herald began reporting the list of gruesome deaths and punishments. The two good things she got out of the whole ordeal was that the battle was over and that De Lane would be returning home soon. The riders rested, took a meal and were on their way again before the night was over. Their task was to stop at every keep from the King’s tent to town spreading the news of Sterling’s defeat.
Emmalyn seemed as happy to see them go as Luveday was. Excitement was in the air as mid-winter solstice drew near and many prayed the lord of the keep would return to join in the festivities.
It was the day after that Barth sought her out to return the necklace. She made the blacksmith blush again as she complimented his work. Indeed, the piece looked as good as new. She put it in her pocket to return to Adela when she next saw her and promptly forgot about it. It was only as she emptied her pockets searching for a bobby pin that Luveday came across the necklace instead. It happened to be in the carding shed, where several women worked to turn the remnants of last year’s sheering into thread.
Beatrice, who still held a grudge against the Lady was visiting a friend and one of her men at the keep happened to see the lady pull the jewelry from her apron and quickly shove it back in. Curious, and knowing exactly who the item really belonged to, the tavern wench went in search of the future lady De Lane and conveyed what she had seen with her own eyes. Beatrice was thanked for her information and couldn’t help but smile at the cold and hard aspect that had settled over the lady’s countenance as she went in search of her missing necklace. The tavern wench almost skipped back to the Boar’s Head, laughing all the way, as she thought of what might befall the little-lost lady. Christabel was sure to put her in her place if only Beatrice could be there to see it!
Christabel watched as a small group of women left the weaving shed. It was winter, and a half-dozen women spent the short hours of daylight turning wool to thread and thread to cloth. Proper ladies were found by the fire, sewing cushions and decorating clothing, but not Luveday. No, Luveday wanted to learn how everything was made. She helped to spin and dye the wool, and for once Christabel was glad that she couldn’t keep her nose out of things. As the women left Luveday alone in the shed and returned to the kitchen for a hot mid-day meal, Christabel and her two guards moved in.
The room was empty when they arrived, but the rustling and a melodic humming could be heard from the next room where the raw wool was stored. It was with a hard smile that Christabel greeted her rival because that was what Luveday had become in her eyes, everything that Christabel was not. The castle and its stupid people seemed to love the poor woman for it, while she was despised. Christabel had always felt there was something odd about the lost lady, and now she knew. Luveday was a liar and a thief, and oh how the people would hate her when they found out the truth.
“Lady Luveday,” Christabel emphasized the word, feeling she no longer deserved such a title. “Busy I see.”
Luveday was clearly surprised by her presence there and straightened from looking at a bale of wool. “Lady Christabel, what are you doing out here? Have you come to check on the dye colors for the new tapestry? Henna assures me, we will get dozens of shades this season thanks to Tinker Thom’s timely arrival.” She chatted happily, not really taking note of the men slowly circling behind her.
Christabel sniffed at the odor of unwashed animal the clung to the shed; the wood structure reeked of it. The room was full of bundles of wool stuck in nooks and crannies to keep it dry even as a few rays of light peeked through holes the roof. Luveday moved to the center of the floor but kept the post that held up the arched roof between them. “I am not here to talk about wool, girl.” The widening of her prey’s eyes was very satisfying, and so Christabel moved closer. “I’m here to speak of another matter. I will give you a chance, only one chance,” she held up a slim finger, “to redeem yourself.”
Luveday’s look of wide-eyed innocence was very convincing as she protested. “I don’t know what you mean. Redeem myself how? What have I done?”
Christabel wouldn’t let herself be fooled by this woman again. “This is your only chance, Luveday. Confess, and I will see that they are lenient with you. It will be much kinder this way.”
“Christabel, I don’t know what you mean.” Luveday’s informality grated on her nerves, and she ground her teeth. If it were any other woman, she would prob
ably have slapped her by now, but this game wasn’t over yet. She still had to retrieve the necklace.
Sir Peter and Sir James were now behind her foe, and she gave the signal. One man grabbed each arm and held her still while Luveday protested and struggled. “Let me go. I don’t understand. What are you doing? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Christabel reached into her apron pocket and was rewarded. She pulled the necklace free, examining it closely, only to sigh a moment later. It was undamaged by Luveday’s grubby hands. The necklace dangled from her finger in front of Luveday’s face which was a mix of emotions. Confusion furrowed her brow, and Christabel’s anger piqued.
“And what is this, pray tell? Helping yourself to my jewelry, Luveday?” She laughed. “Of all the things you could have taken, you chose a bobble worth nothing at all.” That pathetic look was still on her face and Christabel couldn’t help herself. She backhanded the woman across the face. There were no tears or screaming, only a shocked pain that lent a shimmer to the other woman’s eyes. “You will find out what it means to steal from the House of Sumerland.” She looked to Sir Peter who had a sparkle in his dark eyes, that was brighter than his usual admiration for her. She had been perplexed when her father had ordered men to stay and keep watch over her, but Sir Peter was perhaps, the best she could have hoped for. The man had a fascination with her, and it took very little for him to do her bidding. Sir James looked troubled, but he was too young and too eager to prove himself, he would follow Peter’s orders, or her father would hear about his disobedience.
“Get to it, good sirs.” And she left the shed, happy to have fresh air in her lungs, as she put the necklace on. Foolish, girl, she thought, if you have taken any other piece I might have been able to forgive you, but never this. She stroked along the edge of the delicate flowers. Never this. Christabel’s hatred burned hot and would only be cooled once Luveday was punished properly. The smile that curved her lips was beguiling and utterly cold.
Luveday fought and tried to call out, but her efforts were quelled by a fist connecting with her stomach. Using their names seemed to only make one of the knight’s madder. Sir Peter and Sir James, Sumerland’s men. She had wondered if it was a miscalculation on the Lord’s part, to let two men so devoted to Christabel be her guards. It was clear that Peter was obsessed with his lady. Luveday had kept a watch on him, fearful for the girl, what a fool she had been.
All the air left her chest in an involuntary gasp. Pain radiated through her so quickly that she couldn’t even speak. Her statements of innocence fell on deaf ears as she was bound to the beam in the center of the room. Her two attackers exchanged words, but Luveday was still reeling from the pain they were inflicting, and trying to figure a way out of this. She continued to struggle as she tried to catch her breath, but another blow nearly sent her to her knees, if not for the belt that bound her hands high on the support beam she would not have continued to stand. Her shoulder caught the beam as she tried to rise back to her feet and that was when she heard the ripping and felt cold air touch the skin of her back. Pain and panic raced through her as she fought her own mind and body to stay focused and be ready for any chance of escape.
It was only a moment later that the larger man’s laughter and words registered in her mind. The young one seemed to have doubts, but the other knight’s tone sent another wave of nausea rolling over her. “The lash is the only thing good enough to deal with a thief.”
She shook her head, but the first stroke fell. Luveday found her footing and tried to wrestle her hands-free. She opened her mouth to scream in frustration and defiance, but hands clamped around her neck like a vice. Blackness formed at the edges of her vision and stars twinkled in the dim light that penetrated the room. The hands left her, but what was happening to her was strangely distant. Luveday realized she was very close to blacking out, had been for some time because the pain in her back seemed far away though she knew Sir Peter had landed several more blows, but how many she couldn’t remember.
Though Luveday fought to keep conscious she didn’t know how much more she could take and realized that while she couldn’t speak or scream, a river of tears poured from her eyes. She refused to beg, she knew it would not help and tried to hold on to herself fearing what they might do to her when she was unaware.
Harsh voices spun around her and then silence. On the wind was a ringing tone that filled her with hope. It was her name, someone was looking for her. Sir James suddenly appeared before her and loosened the belt on her bound wrists; she was bruised and bleeding there. His eyes were full of sorrow and compassion even as he fought off Peter nearly knocking the man out. “You can’t do this to a lady. I won’t let you.” Luveday was suddenly free and sank to the straw-lined floor. Overhead she watched a blurry scene unfold as she drifted towards unconsciousness.
Peter’s furious retort was slurred as blood filled his mouth. “She’s no lady, ‘tis better than she deserves.”
“You’ve gone too far, Sir Peter. Ten lashes are all a woman would receive, and you’ve given her many times that over.” The older knight lunged for his subordinate, but the boy was fast and had more spunk than she would ever have imagined. James landed a heavy blow, but both of them stalled when voices drew closer. Suddenly, something seemed to come over the two. They glanced down at her prostrate form and decided it was time to flee. Luveday heard rather than saw them go, and as familiar voices called her name, she finally lost the battle giving oblivion the field.
Screams filled the kitchen and the hall. Emmalyn ran in search of the cause, troubled that she could not find Luveday at all. As she entered the kitchen women gave way as Sir Fuller and Agnes tried to stop their lady from coming any closer. On one of the large tables was something covered in rough cloth. The form moved slightly, and a pale hand came into view. Ellie who was only a few paces behind her lady had frozen at the sight. The wail that left the girl pierced through the heart of the castle. Emmalyn was galvanized into motion. She pulled back the cloth, trying desperately to find the calm that often engulfed her as a healer, but the bruised and bloody mess that was once her beloved friend’s back sent her to her knees.
Fuller caught his lady, supporting her as she looked around. Through the tears and quiet sobbing, she demanded that they take Luveday upstairs. “Get her out of here.”
Mistress Adela was exiting her lady’s room when she heard unfamiliar sounds erupt through the hall. Looking up, she spotted Christabel coming toward her and noted the almost serene expression on her lady’s face. She was caught off guard for a moment, and instead of asking what commotions were taking place below, Adela noticed the repaired necklace that hung around Christabel’s neck. Relief swept through the old woman. Luveday had found a way to repair it, and the old nurse owed the lady a great deal for only Adela knew who had given her lady the bobble and why the girl treasured it so dearly. “I see Luveday has given you back the necklace, we must thank her somehow.”
Right away, the Mistress knew something was wrong.
Christabel looked at her with a cold gleam in her eyes, something she had not seen aimed at herself in many months. “Why would Luveday have my necklace?”
Adela tried to ignore the lump that formed in the pit of her stomach. “I gave it to her, My Lady. Remember the other day, it got snagged on your dress. It must have broken when you took it off, for when I went to put your ruby comb away, it lay broken in your chest.” The old woman watched as a strange expression seemed to wash over the girl’s face, as she continued speaking. “I gave the bobble to Lady Luveday thinking she would know some way to fix it. Did she not return it to you?”
A pale hand fluttered to settled over Christabel’s stomach. The other was flown wide to brace herself against the wall, but despite the pose of distress, the lady’s face remained as smooth as if it were carved from stone.
Voices cried out from below. The sound of many feet running toward the chaos echoed up the stairs. Adela grabbed her mistress in a vice-like grip, whispering har
shly, “what have you done, child?”
Christabel grimaced, and Adela rushed them into their room before anyone else could take note.
Luveday floated for a while just beyond the pain, but close enough to the surface that she could occasionally hear the voices that comforted her. She knew that she was safe and that she would not be able to stay in this in-between state for much longer, though she thought that she had not been there very long at all.
Everything hurt. Her head, her skin, her muscles and her bones. Her face and her back throbbed though something had dulled the ache in areas; it was not enough to take the pain away altogether. It took herculean effort to move anything, including her eyelids which felt like lead weights, but she finally managed it.
The first thing that met her eyes was Emmalyn, leaning over her and talking quietly to someone beyond Luveday’s line of sight. It took her foggy mind a moment to realize that the room was full, which wasn’t hard considering the cramped nature of her chamber. People peered down at her with intent faces, many marred by tears and concern. Hands arrested her movement as she tried to continue rolling onto her back and getting a better look at the room and its occupants. It didn’t take her body more than a heartbeat to decide that such an idea was not a good one. Nerve ending shot fire down her spine. She gasped and returned to her stomach, noting the warm sensation on her cheek as her face groaned into the pillow.
Luveday realized that Emmalyn was talking to her, not just talking but was repeating, with infinite patience the same question she had been asking for several minutes.
“What happened, Luveday?”
For an instant, Luveday didn’t know. She couldn’t remember why she felt this way, but as she turned to the elder lady a face came to her like a ghost out of her memory, and everything rushed at her. Her breath caught in her lungs at the remembered pain echoed in her current state. She felt the heavy hand again and failed to speak. Emmalyn gently moved a hand behind her head and raised Luveday almost to a sitting position, yet slightly more awkward, as she was on her hip as they tried to protect her healing back.
