That day never came. After four days had passed, and neither of us had yet shown any sign of disease, I deemed it safe for us to finally leave our self-imposed isolation. To be safe we burned the clothes we wore and the bedding we had used; we turned our backs on one another to hide our nakedness until we could gather up the new garments that had been left for us outside the door. And then, finally, we walked back out into the fresh air once more, and stood there for a long while, reacquainting ourselves with the feel of the breeze in our hair and the pale winter sun on our cheeks.
Lord Shaine approached us then, and smiled. “It is good to have you with us again, Mistress Merys,” he said formally, and his gaze shifted to Brit, who stood off to one side, fidgeting and looking worried. “And Brit—you have a home here for as long as you need it. No one will challenge your freed status. Master Breen wondered if you would be interested in assisting him in the mews?”
“Oh, I would, my lord,” Brit exclaimed. His plain, honest face glowed. To be trained in the arts of falconry would one day accord him a high standing in another household. Lord Shaine could not have thought of a better place for him.
“Well, then,” said Lord Shaine. “Run along to Master Breen, and tell him I sent you. I must return with Mistress Merys to the house.”
Brit bowed his head and then turned and ran off in the direction of the mews. I could feel myself smile as I watched him leave. Poor boy, he had done his best over the past few days, but I knew the forced inactivity and constant worry about whether the plague boils would begin to show at any minute had worn on him.
Of course, it had worn on me, too.
But now I was free, with Lord Shaine watching me, and the wind in my hair once more. I had the absurd impulse to whirl about in the courtyard, to open my arms to the half-clouded winter day and embrace its beauty. But of course I did no such thing. Instead I followed Lord Shaine back into the keep, where I was immediately surrounded by Auren and Elissa, Merime, and even young Lord Larol.
“So are you truly all right, mistress?”
“Father said they were all dead. Is it true?”
“How could you not get sick, when everyone else did?”
For a moment I could only stare at their faces, confused by the babble of voices after my long isolation.
Lord Shaine held up a hand. “One at a time, I beg you. Mistress Merys has been through quite an ordeal, and we need to give her time to think things through.”
I shot him a grateful look and then smiled. “I’m fine. But the sad news is true as well. The plague took the entire household. My Order teaches precautions to take to avoid the spread of infection, and that is why neither Brit nor I took ill.” I looked past their inquiring faces to Lord Shaine and asked, “And have we had any other news of the world?”
“Some, and none of it good.” His mouth thinned. “A rider came to our gates the morning after you left. No, of course we did not allow him in,” he added, in response to my sudden worried look. “I spoke to him from the second story of the guard house. But the plague is spreading—it has gone forth from here and on into Myalme, where the devastation is great. Or so we are told.”
He fell silent, and I could see his brooding gaze take in the young people who stood by him, the slaves who lingered just within earshot but far enough away so as to be unobtrusive. The hall looked much as it always did—although some straggling greens still decorated the fireplace, the only reminder I could see of the Midwinter celebration—and I thought then of what an island of safety it was. So far we had survived. Could we continue to maintain our isolation and come through this unscathed?
“But we are safe,” I said firmly. We could not allow ourselves to be overcome by doubts and fear. We all had to remain strong.
“Yes, we are safe,” he repeated, and his expression softened a bit as he looked on his daughter and her betrothed.
The remainders of the Midwinter decorations jogged my memory, and I held out a hand to Auren. “My lady, in all the confusion, I quite forgot to give you your Midwinter gift. Would you come with me and receive it, although it’s quite late?”
“More presents?” she asked, her face lighting up. “It sounds like that celebration in Keshiaar, where they give presents for seven whole days! Have you ever heard of that?”
“I believe I read something of it once,” I replied with a laugh. “But you will have to do with only one from me, I’m afraid. And you, too, Elissa,” I added. “I have something for you as well.”
“Me?” she asked, her delicate face flushing.
In answer I held out my hands to both of them, and they gaily followed me up the steps to my tower chamber. I caught a glimpse of Lord Shaine’s approving look before we left the hall, and I knew he must be glad that I had found some way to distract them from the rumors of plague and death.
Auren and Elissa waited in Auren’s chamber as I bade them to stay there while I climbed the extra flight of steps up to the room Elissa and I shared. It would have been far too crowded in there for all three of us.
The gifts lay where I had left them, securely wrapped in an extra length of fabric and pushed up against the wall at the head of my bed. As I drew them out and pulled the linen away from them, I saw the brooch I had placed there as well, awaiting a time when I could give it to Lord Shaine. That opportunity had not yet presented itself, although perhaps I could find a time later tonight when we could be alone. But for now I slid it down underneath my pillow and gathered up the two girls’ gifts. Then I hurried back down the stairs to Auren’s chambers, where they both impatiently awaited my arrival.
Both girls showed their appreciation for their gifts, although in very different ways. Auren tore away the linen wrappings that held the hood I had made for her, took one look at the rich brown fur trim and elegant embroidery, and immediately leaped out of her chair, throwing her arms about my neck before I could stop her.
“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “It’s the best Midwinter gift I’ve gotten!”
Somehow I doubted that, although I knew her current enthusiasm was genuine. Auren lived in the moment; of course it was the best present she’d gotten, because she’d received the others days ago, and they had already lost their novelty.
I managed to disentangle myself from her clumsy embrace and said, “I’m very glad it pleases you.”
She reached out to stroke the soft fur that framed the hood, and then ran a finger over the leaves I had embroidered along the fur trim. “You do such lovely work.”
Elissa spoke for the first time. “Yes, mistress, truly you do.” She looked down at the embroidered handkerchief I had given her. Of course her gift was not quite so extravagant as Auren’s, but I suddenly got the feeling that the little piece of embellished linen was the fanciest thing she had ever owned. The light in her eyes dimmed a bit. “But I have nothing for you.”
Truly I had not expected anything, and I said gently, “Midwinter is about giving, not receiving, Elissa. That you are pleased with your gift is enough for me.”
Elissa’s words seemed to have affected Auren as well. “I wanted to give you something, mistress,” Auren said, “but I could not decide what would suit you best.”
Luckily I had always found Auren’s heedlessness to be a source of amusement rather than irritation. So I smiled and replied, “Did not your father already give me the greatest gift your family could give, the gift of my freedom? Surely I have no need of anything else.”
“That’s right,” she replied. “In all the confusion, I had forgotten.” A frown troubled her brow. “So you will be leaving us?”
“Not until spring. I would not wish to travel so far in winter, and besides, now there is the plague....” My words trailed off. For a brief moment I wasn’t sure whether in the remotest corner of my soul I was happy that the plague had trapped me here for the winter. At least no one would question my decision to stay.
Both of the girls looked distressed by my words, and I realized that for a few moments they h
ad probably forgotten about the plague. Still, I could not pretend it did not exist.
“But we are all well and safe here,” I said, echoing the words I had stated earlier down in the hall. “And now I think I smell Merime’s pigeon pie. It must be time for supper. We should make ourselves ready.”
Auren immediately set the fur-trimmed hood down on her bed and stood. Elissa folded up her handkerchief with exquisite care and tucked it into her bodice, but then she shot me a nervous glance, looking from me to Auren and then back.
For a moment I wondered what ailed her, and then I suddenly understood the reason for her diffidence. This would be the first time I entered the hall as a free woman. I somehow doubted that Lord Shaine would have me sit at the high table, but I also felt certain that I would no longer take my place among the more exalted of the household slaves, the ones who were lucky enough to eat at the long table in the kitchen instead of out in the drafty slave quarters.
At that thought a sudden wave of nervousness passed over me, but I knew better than to betray my own unease. I could not control what would happen, after all.
Instead I forced a smile, then said, “Let us go down.” I could not allow them to see how important this meal was to me.
I could not allow them to know how much I cared.
Chapter 11
I should have known my fears were baseless. As soon as Auren and I entered the hall, Lord Shaine stood up from his seat at the high table and came toward us. “If you would do me the honor, Mistress Merys?” he asked, and gestured toward an empty seat several places down from his own massively carved chair.
Nodding, I took the seat he specified, trying to ignore the sharp-browed glare Lady Yvaine shot at me. Though of course I could not have expected to be seated immediately next to Lord Shaine—that honor had been given to Auren, who sat on his right, and Lord Marten, who had the place to his left—still the position I occupied put me on a level with her ladyship, and I could tell Lord Shaine’s solicitude toward me had definitely raised her ire. But of course she could not publicly voice her disapproval, and so instead she settled for a few more baleful glances in my direction before the servers arrived with the food.
This was no feast such as Lord Shaine had offered his guests at Midwinter. Young Lord Larol and his family might be with us for an extended time, and Lord Shaine apparently had decided not to bother with the niceties for such a lengthy period. The meal we ate was simple enough—Merime’s pigeon pie, a dish of sweet tubers and onions, bread and butter.
In Farendon, we have a saying: “The most welcome visitor is unwelcome after four days.” I could tell that held true here as well. Lord Shaine might feel duty-bound to keep his daughter’s affianced groom and his family safe here at Donnishold, but I got the impression it was a duty he found more and more of a burden each day. His expression was pleasant enough, but he seemed little inclined to speech, and there was an uncharacteristic restlessness in the way he played with his knife and fork.
Although I certainly understood how he felt, I knew there was little he could do to remedy the situation. It might be weeks or even months before it was safe enough to resume contact with the outside world. It actually worked in our favor that the estates of Seldd were so isolated from one another; as long as we were careful, we could avoid contagion. Lord Shaine and his overseers had made sure that we had sufficient stores to last out the winter. The men would still go out and hunt when the weather permitted in order to augment the mounds of smoked meat, poultry, and fish that had already been laid down against the coming of the cold season. Now it was simply a waiting game.
Even as I sat and ate the simple but filling food, however, I felt uneasy. It somehow seemed wrong to sit there and feel warm and safe and satisfied when so many others might be suffering and dying at that very moment. Had I not taken a vow to succor the sick? Should I not have immediately left this place once I knew I was free of infection, and gone out into the world to see what little relief I might bring?
And how much could you do? the practical side of my mind asked. You are one woman, and they must number thousands of sick. Surely you are not arrogant enough to think you could help them all?
No, of course not, but the Order had taught me that one life saved was a multiple blessing, for of course each life touched many others. Who was I to remain safely here in Donnishold, sheltering myself from the plague? How could I ever face my peers again if they should learn of my cowardice?
How could I ever face myself?
I set down my fork, knowing I had no stomach for any more of my meal. Around me the conversation ebbed and flowed—carried on mostly between Auren and the Lady Yvaine as to the preparations for the wedding, with a few asides contributed by Larol and his sister Alcia—but I found I could not participate in it. Instead, I stared off toward the dark doorway at the far end of the hall, the one which led to the keep’s main corridor and the entrance to the castle. Did I possess the courage to walk down it one last time, to face horror and death and the very real possibility that I would never see this place again?
Several times I noticed Lord Shaine’s keen blue-eyed gaze resting on me, but as he sat several places away, of course he could not engage me in conversation without the rest of the table listening in. No one else seemed to notice my abstraction, and it was with an immense feeling of relief that I saw the kitchen slaves come in at last to clear away our table settings.
At this point in the evening, Lord Shaine would usually retire to his study, and Auren often would come up to the tower to join Elissa and me for an hour or so of needlework before we went to our respective beds. Unfortunately, I had no idea of how the evenings had been spent in my absence, now that the household numbered young Lord Larol and his family.
So I waited, hands folded in my lap, as the table was emptied and I watched Auren to see what happened next, hoping that I might take my cue from her. To be honest, I mainly wished that I could slip away, quiet and unnoticed, so I could go to my room and decide what I should do. My conscience told me I should prepare to leave the next morning, after I had gathered together as many supplies as I could, but I already felt myself resisting that course of action. What difference could one day make, or two? Such a mission would require rest, and preparation, and was not something to be undertaken lightly.
But those were specious arguments, and I knew it. Better that I should admit to my fear. Fear can be healthy, after all, if it makes one more cautious. However, I knew there was more to my reluctance than a simple desire to avoid the misery and death which surely awaited me beyond Donnishold’s borders. I hadn’t imagined that small but telling hesitation as Lord Shaine had bade me farewell before I departed for Arnad’s estate. Could I really leave this place without knowing anything of his true feelings for me?
The others at the high table stood, and I did so as well, watching out of the corner of my eye as Larol and Auren stepped closer to the hearth, their fingers intertwined. They shot a few furtive looks in their respective parents’ direction. No doubt they plotted to see if they could slip off to a secluded corridor where they might share a few stolen kisses. Lady Yvaine fixed her son with a disapproving glare, however, and Larol blushed suddenly, while Auren seemed to find something of absorbing interest in the wilted greens that still adorned the mantel. I surmised that the two lovebirds weren’t feeling quite brave enough yet to face her ladyship’s wrath.
Meanwhile, Lord Marten and his daughter wandered off in the direction of the hearth as well. His lordship didn’t seem to be particularly perceptive, so his movements most likely betrayed only a desire to stay warm in the drafty hall, and not any particular interest in his son’s and future daughter-in-law’s doings.
No one seemed to be paying any attention to me, so it seemed the perfect opportunity for me to slip out of the hall unseen. I stepped down from the dais and began to move in the direction of the tower stairs. But I had only gone a few paces when Lord Shaine’s voice stopped me.
“Mistress Mery
s.”
With some reluctance, I turned. He stood next to his seat on the dais and regarded me carefully, a half-amused look on his face. “Away so soon?”
“I thought I should leave you to your family’s company.”
He glanced at Larol and Auren, and at the other members of Larol’s family who clustered near the hearth. “They seem to have some occupation for the moment. I would speak with you privately.”
At his words my heart began to beat more quickly in my breast, but I merely bowed my head and said, “Of course, my lord,” then waited for him to step down off the dais and come to stand beside me.
Gesturing toward the doorway, he indicated that I should follow him, and I did so, feeling increasingly puzzled. I would have thought he might prefer to speak to me in his own chambers, as we had done so many times before, but instead he led me out through the corridor, on into the open courtyard.
It was bitterly cold. The stars glittered like chips of ice against the night sky, but I saw thin ribbons of cloud beginning to drift overhead. From that harbinger, along with a shift in the wind’s direction, I guessed that another storm had begun to move in from the east. The signs did not bode well for my travel plans. I knew little of Seldd’s geography or its roads, such as they were. I had reached Lord Arnad’s estate without incident only because I had a native to guide me. What would I do in a midwinter snowstorm, if I found myself stranded far from everything I knew?
Lord Shaine paused just outside the entrance to the keep. A faint breath of air from inside the hall followed us, like a ghostly memory of summer’s warmth. The freezing air in the courtyard seemed to settle on my body, heavy as a leaden cloak. Although I could not deny a small thrill at being here alone with him, I knew we could not stay outside for very long.
“You seemed very far away at supper,” he said.
A little startled, I risked an upward glance at him. Only one torch relieved the darkness, and so I saw little in his face—just a chance gleam from his eyes, and exaggerated shadows below his brow and cheekbones. “Perhaps I was,” I admitted. “I have much to occupy my mind.”
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