The Lost Lady

by Amelia Brown

  A rank odor wafted from an open door, and Luveday looked inside, animal fat was being rendered to cure into soap. Not all of which seemed to make it into the final product at least judging from the smell.

  “Sometimes making the sweet comes from the bitter,” Claudia lifted a delicate hand to her nose as they passed.

  Luveday quickly moved on and noticed that what she had thought were additional buildings were worktables covered like the public picnic areas back home. The structures were large and well built, able to shield the workers from all sorts of weather. Braziers heated areas while women could be seen crushing plants into mortars with pestles.

  “Do you know much about the making of perfumes, Lady Luveday?” Claudia asked.

  “I know the basics, but it was not something we did at such a scale; nor were our soaps so fine.” Luveday looked to Claudia who was quietly speaking with a woman.

  “Leah,” Claudia called aloud a moment later. An elderly woman left a far table to stand before them. “Leah, I must see to something in the house, Lady Luveday has questions about the healing properties of our plants.” Noting her brisk tone, Claudia softened it a bit to look back at Luveday. “Please see to her during her stay.”

  Luveday was shocked at how quickly she was dismissed. One moment they were in the middle of a conversation and the next Claudia was gone. The finality in her words made Luveday wonder if the lady was ever coming back. Whatever trouble was in the house it seemed urgent, then again Benedict was starting his task today, and Luveday was suddenly sure that the lady had never meant to linger so long with her, if at all.

  “Good morning, Leah. I am Lady Luveday, one of the King’s healers.”

  “Good morning, my…” she seemed to start and look at Luveday’s fine but simple attire. “Lady Luveday you said. There was a Lady Luveday, a lady healer that saved the young prince during the battle with Sterling in the north. That be you My Lady?” The older woman was thin and wrinkled, yet something about her seemed kind. Luveday mused that she had been working here her whole life and thought that that could be completely possible.

  “Indeed, the very same,” Luveday admitted a little sheepishly. Though she had told Claudia of the tale, the woman had acted as if she had never heard of Luveday, and that had been fine with her, but it seemed that the tale had reached farther south and much wider than Luveday had ever expected. Then again, she wouldn’t be surprised if some bard was, at that moment, singing about her, which caused Luveday to cringe at the thought.

  “Oh, now lady.” The woman gasped, and others looked around to murmur amongst themselves. “The woman who saved Prince Benjamin is most welcome here. Yes, My Lady, most welcome.” She turned to look at the others, some smiled back, and some grew silent and watchful. “Anything you need, My Lady, you ask me.” She corrected a man who tried to plop a bucket down on a worktable. The man grumbled and took the pale off to another area. “Now, lady, what is it your wanting to know.”

  Luveday liked this woman. “Everything.”

  She was changeable. At least that was what Luveday had come to think of her in the three days that had passed since their arrival. Lady Claudia was as different from Lady Christabel as night from day, but sometimes she saw the childish pettiness, and an unrealistic desire to have ones every want fulfilled. While Benedict went over the accounting books for the domain, and his men not so discreetly made inquiries around the hall and fields, Luveday was behind the scenes. Claudia was under scrutiny, and she knew it, but sometimes her temper got the better of her.

  Smack! The sound reverberated down the hall it was so loud. It wasn’t hard to recognize Gemma, though the girl cowered and gulped as she fought back the tears. Luveday couldn’t make out what was said, but Claudia’s hard and angry tone spoke volumes that morning when Luveday came down to take her morning meal. It was the little things that made Luveday suspect that the people were afraid of their lady.

  Having spent the last few days among the men and women working the perfume house and even some time spent in the fields, Luveday noticed a decided change whenever Claudia appeared. Even when spotted at a distance the people around Luveday would grow silent, turn away, or watch their lady with an intensity that bespoke their fear, like watching a snake devour a mouse. Many watched to make sure their children or daughters didn’t upset the lady. No one spoke ill of the lady, and what praise left their lips was too enthusiastic, too shallow, and repeated too often to feel natural.

  Luveday followed her prey at a leisurely distance, shadowing Claudia’s movements for the second day in a row. Something slammed into the back of her legs and almost knocked her over. Luveday caught her balance but tried to grab whatever had hit her, and the effort of holding on to it caused her to go over.

  Suddenly sitting on the ground, Luveday found herself gazing into a pair of beautiful hazel green eyes shimmering with tears.

  “Easy now,” Luveday assessed the damage. She was fine, though her bottom was a bit sore and her left leg was at an odd bend, she had managed to sit herself down with the child in her lap thought she was not sure how. “Easy little one.” She heard a sniffle and arm came up to draw a sleeve across the boy’s face. “What’s your name?” Luveday leaned back a little, getting a whiff of the boy.

  “Artair.” Came a gruff voice, she hadn’t expected from such a skinny kid.

  “Artair. I am Lady Luveday…” The boy panicked before she could finish speaking. He tried to get up, legs and arms scrambling. Luveday took an elbow to the face, while a hand braced against her chest and a knee struck her thigh. The boy tramped her skirts leaving behind muddy footprints as Leah’s voice was heard calling both Artair and the lady. Luveday watched the boy disappear none the worse for the collision but noticed a few men throwing him dirty looks as he passed in a dead run. Leah reached her side to help her up.

  “My Lady, what happened? Are you hurt? Do you need…” Gaining her feet, she looked herself over and the child’s footprints were clearly visible on the gray gown. “Oh, my. Your dress My Lady. Oh, my.” Leah looked perplexed and glanced where the boy had gone. “Can it be saved?” She whispered.

  Luveday looked it over, shaking out her skirts, the medium gray wool was light and yet kept out the lingering chill. It was the gown that Ellie had given her the first day she was at Lander’s Keep, and it had seen much worse than mud. “Aye, it will clean up fine. I have gotten some stubborn spots out of this gown. No worries, Leah.”

  “Oh, thank goodness, My Lady.” She moved Luveday aside. “Artair isn’t usually so clumsy.”

  “Was he looking for his mother?” She asked, worried about the little urchin despite the mayhem he had wrecked upon her person.

  Leah’s chuckle lightened the mood. “Nay, if he had wanted me, he’d not have been shy about it.” Luveday did a double take, not believing that Leah, who had seen sixty-eight years was the mother of a boy who looked to be no more than five. Then again, she mused, women had no protection, so it was completely possible that Leah had birthed a child so late in life. “Oh, now I know what you are thinking, My Lady, but Artair is my own miracle, sent to ease my heart so late in life.” She grabbed and patted Luveday’s arm affectionately as she was wont to do when they walked beside each other.

  Luveday took her words at face value and would have thought nothing more about them, except for later that evening.

  “Keep the boy out of sight, Leah. I’ll not tell you again.” Claudia’s words were hard as steel, and though Luveday caught no more of the conversation, she knew a threat when she heard one.

  “Are you sure we aren’t a bore, Lady Luveday?” Claudia asked that evening after Benedict had made it clear that he and his men would be gone for a few days and that Luveday would not be accompanying them.

  “Bored? Hardly Lady Claudia.” The fact that neither of them had assured the use of titles was a fact not lost on Luveday.

  Benedict laughed. “No, I fear, Lady Luveday is much too enthralled by her studies to be bored.” The fact
that his words were only half in jest was not lost to either of them as Benedict locked eyes with her. Luveday was quite interested in the use of flowers to soften or flavor the common remedies and didn’t wish to leave yet, though this parting was a farce to give Luveday some time and space to befriend Claudia. It had not taken either of the spies long to see that Benedict was too much of a distraction for any sort of friendship to blossom between them. Though Luveday doubted such a thing would occur in his three-day absence, she was certain that his absence would change the tide, but she also feared that Benedict was the only reason Claudia was on her best behavior.

  “The blossoms are more than just color and pretty smells, Benedict.” Countering, “they have soothing and healing properties. These varieties do not grow anywhere else in the kingdom, so here is where I must study them.” She heard rather than saw his eyes roll as Claudia stifled a laugh that was not as fake as some that left her lips.

  “Yes, but you need not be so eager about it.” He shot back.

  Luveday humped. “Eager as a lad with a wooden sword?”

  Benedict laughed outright. “Touché! Lady.” His laughter was always contagious. “At least such eagerness has a use.”

  “And here too, My Lord.” Claudia cut in, though her merriment was less evident.

  “Aye, Lady Claudia is right, My Lord.” Luveday agreed. “Who knows what ailments we may learn to cure. These flowers may hold untold answers.” The gleam in Claudia’s eye did not go unnoticed, but Luveday wondered what it meant.

  ‘So tired,’ thought Luveday as tried to work the kinks out of her back muscles from hours spent over a worktable. Today wasn’t just for show. Luveday had helped make perfumed soaps and oils and brewed a few batched of syrups for common ailments. The mild seasons and coastal weather brought on lung congestions in many of the workers. Fever Foe and healing salve were the first she had started. Adding a few calming flowers to the mix made the salve more of a balm, and Luveday wondered if she couldn’t start making something like the creams back home.

  Home, she paused looking out as people cleared up the work areas and prepared to go home. Home was not something she thought of much anymore, except for the longing to see her family, the life she led in that other world seemed so far away from the woman she was now. Not for the first time, Luveday counted her blessings while she imagined what kind of life she might have had if she had been born here. She could have been Leah’s daughter, or granddaughter because with a certainty she couldn’t shake, she knew that she wouldn’t be part of the nobility. That truth was one she would never voice aloud. It bothered her; the gaps that raised up the few and sunk the masses into servitude. What could she do, but show compassion, spread kindness and hope that someone would take note and carry it forward?

  Leah’s voice came from somewhere behind her, and Luveday turned around a smile lighting her countenance, but it was not Luveday the old woman was after. No, she saw her talking heatedly with Bea. Grabbing the last of her things, Luveday headed toward the hall, but took an indirect path, so that she could get closer to the two women without being seen. Since they had moved off the main path back through the hall’s gardens, she was able to gain the shadows of the gate unseen.

  “This is foolishness, girl.” Luveday’s new friend berated the younger woman.

  Near tears, Bea whispered, “I know, Leah, but she won’t see reason. I try to talk to her, I do, but she’s set to do what she wants, and there is no one to stop her. Oh, if Sir Henry would return, or Sir Marcus, she would be calmer.” Bea’s eyes overflowed with silent tears as her breathing grew heavy under the weight of her emotions.

  “You hush now.” Leah tried comforting the distraught woman. “Hush, child.”

  “What will happen to us, Leah?” Bea pleaded. “What will happen?”

  “Oh, dear. I don’t know.” Leah looked out over nothingness, “but I do know that we can’t keep going on the way we are.” Leah sighed as if the future were too heavy a burden for her, though Bea practically wept in her arms.

  “She won’t stop, and him…” But Leah cut her off without letting her finish, shushing the whimpering woman. Luveday watched as Leah’s back went straight and she stepped further into the shadows. Following Leah’s gaze, Luveday could see that her absence was finally noted. Quietly and as quickly as she dared, Luveday picked her way back to the hall, stopping into the kitchen to collect her tray and ask that hot water be brought to her room as soon as possible.

  Pieces continued to fall into place, but something worried Luveday, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. As she ascended a back stairway to take the long way to her room, Luveday had a sinking feeling that she was running out of time.

  Early morning and evening were the times when most people were about, and Luveday knew she was taking a chance by being where she was not supposed to be so early in the morning. Dressed in simple garb and with a work cloth around her waist she hoped that at a glance she would appear just another servant about their duties. It was the tower she wished to get access too, as it was the one area of the manor that she had been politely, but continuously steered away from.

  A heavy outside door opened silently as Luveday let herself into the tower. The base was larger than it looked, from the outside and seemed to have little room as it narrowed toward the top where it ended with a battlement and a cone-shaped roof. There was an anteroom of sorts that met the tower; a narrow hall led to the room at its base. Traversing the hallway, she was shocked when she realizes that the stairs went up and down. Thinking that doing down might be better, Luveday was shocked again when she realized that the way down was already alight.

  Fear tingled up and down her spine, but Luveday silently descended into a room with a stone floor which is empty except for a stool, and three sets of manacles that hung off the perimeter of the round walls. The room must be at least twenty-five feet in diameter as this was the widest area of the tower. The manacles were blessedly empty, and Luveday was ready to leave the dungeon behind, but her steps echoed through the cell, and a muffled voice called out.

  The sound came from the room, and not from somewhere above, so Luveday steps closer and only then did she see the large wooden door set in the floor. Hurrying closer, Luveday looked over the door. It was too large to open and too heavy for her alone. Only a bolt held it closed, but if it is as heavy as Luveday expects, it would probably take two men to open the hatch.

  Whoever was below called out again, and banged against the door. Leaning over it, Luveday finally saw a small hatch cut in the door and open it calling out. “Be still, shush.” The man below stilled instantly. Luveday can’t see anything beyond the darkness, but she hears splashing and knows that whoever this prisoner is her is in serious trouble. Never did Claudia mention holding someone. Never did she or Benedict hear of someone held at the hall. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

  “You are not Lady Claudia.” He whispered and Luveday could barely make out the glitter of eyes beyond the small iron grill that made it impossible for him even to reach her.

  “No, I am Lady Luveday, now answer quickly.” Should she tell him that she isn’t supposed to be there?

  “Lady Luveday, Luveday…” He murmurs. “Lady Luveday of Lander’s Keep.” He asks hesitantly.

  Shocked at no having been called that in some weeks she answers cautiously, “Aye. The same.”

  A gust of wind lefted him, and Luveday was hit by a blast of foul breath. “Lady, it is I, Minstrel Hardin of Northelm.”

  Luveday had to think a moment and gasp. “The minstrel from Ellie’s wedding, the young man from Northelm. You brought news of squire Coll’s family, no?”

  “Aye, Lady you remember me.” He sounded so relieved.

  “Why are you here, Hardin?”

  “I but tried to leave after singing for my super for a few nights. The Lady grew angry and raged at me.” He whispered as if she might hear. “I never saw a face so changed.” He spoke to himself more to her.

  “Har
din,” Luveday moved to cover the few fingers on the grate with her own. “Hardin, listen carefully. I am not supposed to be down here, but I will not forget you. Lord Benedict of Lion’s Gate will return in a day or two.” She could see that while the mention of Benedict hard heartened him, the time he must wait was a heavy burden. Lord, how long had he been down there, she wondered. “Stay strong; I will come back for you.”

  “Lady,” He desperately and she grasped his fingers, and Luveday squeezed with all her might, hoping to impart some strength to him.

  “I will be back, Hardin.” She moved to back away, sorry she must close the little door on him to leave him in the dark again, but she never got the chance. A large hand clamped onto her left shoulder. Luveday nearly jumped out of her skin when a sickly familiar voice whispered from behind her.

  “Aye, back to keep him company.” It rasped, and Luveday felt the brush of lips over the shell of her right ear. “Only after I am done with you, little healer.” It was barely over the sound of her dread that she heard the screaming and rattling of the hatch as Hardin bellowed below them, venting his impudent rage.

  It was the face of a man too smug for his own good. The face of a man who was never to set foot on this soil as long as King Edward’s line lived. It was a face Luveday had hoped never to see again, but Ladislaus Sterling was standing before her. Her hair still hurt where he had grasp handfuls of it to drag her up the stairs.

  Luveday had called out for help and received a fist to the gut for her efforts, but her screams met with the noise that carried up from below and footsteps had come running. One look at the situation and Bea had fled to find her mistress, but Luveday guessed no help would come from that corner. Was this the mysterious ‘he’ the serving woman had mentioned to Leah last night? How long had Sterling been there? How long had Claudia been cavorting with the enemy?

  “Well, little healer,” he looked down at Luveday as she tried to scramble to her feet but ended up throwing herself into a large oak chair in what looked to be a man’s study. “What providence has delivered you to me?” He mused darkly. Luveday had no trouble identifying the gleam of violence in his eyes as he moved closer. “You have evaded my grasp, but it was only a matter of time before you were mine.” He licked his lips as if looking at a choice piece of meat and savoring the taste. “Yes, time; passed time you paid for the wrong you have done me.” He moved forward and grabbed Luveday by the shoulders, she was fumbling, having already lost her meat dagger, the small blade she kept strapped to one ankle would have to do, or perhaps there was something around her, but a glance revealed nothing within reach. Sterling was haling her to her feet when the door burst open, and Lady Claudia came gliding into the room, followed by a distraught Bea.