The Baroness of Clawynd

by Morgan Henry

  She settled herself by the fire with a cup of coffee and prepared to entertain the uninvited party. She wasn’t overly fond of Bruson, hence her continued refusals of his proposals. He seemed charming, but she always had the feeling he was hiding something behind the charm—something not particularly nice. His eyes were never welcoming. They were always flat and didn’t reflect any emotion.

  “It is such a shame it takes so long to travel here, Baroness. I would have preferred to be here for your father’s burial,” Bruson said as he sat opposite her. The rest of the knights appeared to be relaxing around the room, but Aenid had the feeling they were surreptitiously focused on their conversation.

  “I’m sure he would have understood, Your Grace,” Aenid responded politely. “How was your journey? The weather here has been fine for the past few days. I hope you had similar good fortune.”

  “Yes, it was pleasant,” the duke replied shortly. He paused, and then carried on, “You look well, Lady Aenid. It would seem that your servants are taking good care of you.”

  “They always do. I am fortunate to be surrounded with the good people that live here.” Aenid caught Tanis’s eye and gave him a nod of appreciation as she sipped her coffee.

  “Mmm,” the duke hummed in a noncommittal way. “And how is the holding doing? There is a great deal to managing an estate of this size, much less an entire holding.”

  “The holding is quite well. Father had done a good job in preparing me to meet the challenges of being the baroness. I’m sure it will only become even more rewarding over time.”

  “Still, it is quite a responsibility to rest on your shoulders,” Bruson started.

  “One that I am quite ready to accept,” Aenid interjected. “I have been groomed for such responsibility for my entire life, Your Grace.” Aenid was tiring of the duke’s insinuations that she was unable to discharge her duties. She was sure he was going to offer to ‘help’.

  “There is no doubt of that, dear Lady.” Aenid bristled at the duke calling her dear. He went on, “But surely assistance from those more experienced would never go amiss.”

  Aenid was glad she held her coffee cup in her hands, otherwise she would be tempted to slap the smirk of the duke’s face. “I’m sure if I asked for assistance it would readily be provided. I will keep you in mind should I have any questions regarding the holding.” I’ll keep in mind never to ask you.

  “Mmm.” There was that annoying noncommittal sound again. “I find that when one is new to a task, one doesn’t know what to ask for help with sometimes.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m not entirely new to the task then,” Aenid said with forced cheerfulness. “I’m afraid I must leave you if I’m to get ready for dinner in time, Your Grace. Pray, forgive the simple fare this evening. We’ll be more extravagant tomorrow when we’ve had time to prepare.” She stood and curtsied to the duke. The rest of the room stood and bowed to her as she took her leave.

  Aenid went up to her rooms seething with anger. She should have known the idiot would come looking to “help”. She and her father had discussed at length the repeated proposals from Bruson. She didn’t have one iota of interest in the duke, he barely knew her, and, the few times they had met, the man hadn’t shown any interest in Aenid. They had concluded the duke was out for control of Clawynd, in other words, power and land. Well, she would not be giving up control of her holding into his “experienced” hands.

  She managed to make it through dinner that night. Thank goodness that, as the other ranking member of the party, the duke was at the other end of the table and she didn’t need to speak to him directly too often. She was able to maintain polite conversation with the knights on either side of her and contributed to the wider discussion as appropriate.

  The next afternoon, Aenid was in what she still thought of as her father’s study. It was the best place to work from to manage the estate and holding. All the needed documents were there, the servants could access her readily, and it was a good place to receive visitors on business. She had moved most of what she needed to run the manor home from the tiny study adjacent to her bedroom into this room. There was a knock at the door and when she called out “Enter” the duke strode in.

  Aenid stood. “Your Grace,” she offered as greeting. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m more interested in what I can do for you,” he replied without the courtesy of her title.

  Aenid was now on her guard. “It’s kind of you to say so. I can’t think of anything we need right now, but I will keep your offer of assistance in mind.” Her voice was polite but betrayed no interest.

  Bruson was now at her desk. He leaned over it, his hands on the edge. “Baroness, you are obviously in over your head. As your closest high-ranking relative, I feel it is my duty to assist you. Therefore, I have determined that you shall visit Dyfal for a few months where I will assist with managing the holding. You will accompany me to the keep tomorrow.” He looked into her eyes and his mouth was set into a hard line.

  Now, Aenid was worried and more than a little angry. How could she refuse this infuriating offer? Perhaps the best course was bluntness. “Your Grace, I will not accompany you. I am capable of managing the holding and the king will be confirming me as Baroness. He has no issue with my ascent to the title, therefore you should not either.”

  “I don’t think you understand. You will be coming with me. You will not want to face the consequences if you are not ready to leave tomorrow.” There was no mistaking the malice in his voice.

  “Do not presume to threaten me in my own home.” Aenid was now furious and almost shouting.

  “Let me make myself clear, little Baroness.” Bruson’s voice dripped with malevolence. “If you are not ready to go, I will assemble the servants in the front hall. Then for each half hour you delay me, I will slit the throat of one of them and they will bleed to death in front of you. Your few guards have been taken prisoner by my contingent of knights and are unable to help you. If you attempt to send a message to anyone, I will intercept it and punish you further by torturing the messenger while you watch. Do you understand now?”

  Aenid was at a loss to answer. She didn’t think the duke would have stooped so low. She had her suspicions that he was not an honorable man, but this was unbelievable. He was a man that was interested in land and power. She knew that was the motive behind his marriage proposals, hence her refusals. But to stoop to kill the servants as blackmail was beyond anything Aenid could have envisioned.

  “I understand,” she ground out. “But know this. I will ensure you regret this if it takes my last breath to do so.”

  “Don’t make threats you can’t carry out, Baroness. It just makes you look weak in the end.” Bruson turned to leave the room, his voice mocking as it floated to her over his shoulder. “I’ll tell the servants you will be accompanying me tomorrow, shall I?”

  Aenid was both angry and desperate. How could she get a message to the king or Merrin? She couldn’t risk the torture of any of her servants, but there was no one else she could get to that she trusted to help her. She could hope that Tanis realized there was something wrong and get a message to someone who could help, but that could take weeks. She would have to rely on herself to escape from Bruson and find some assistance on her own.

  Setha was packing by the time she went upstairs. The young maid was assuming she was accompanying Aenid to Bruson’s keep. Aenid quickly disabused her of that notion. Though it was rather inappropriate for her to travel without a maid, there was no way she was placing any of her people at risk by taking them. Bruson would only use them against her. She was on her own, but she would find a way out.

  Chapter 6

  The journey to Bruson’s Keep took three days. During that time, Aenid was never alone long enough to even think about escape or find someone who could help her. This was all presented to the public as a guise to keep her safe and looked after. Nothing could appear more proper than the duke’s treatment of her.

&nb
sp; The keep of Dyfal was a dark and forbidding place, suitable for its Duke. It loomed over the demesne and village in front of it. Dyfal’s ancestral home was made of dark-gray stone with little or no adornments on the outside. The structure was set into the mountainside and made for defense. A large moat surrounded it and the only entry was over the drawbridge. The back was apparently unassailable unless you were a mountain goat. There was a large courtyard inside that fronted another, equally forbidding wall that had few entrances but many slits for archers to pick off those in the courtyard with ease.

  Once at the keep, Aenid was placed in a tower room, or prison, as she preferred to think of it, and told to wait for the duke.

  The room was obviously meant to be her residence in the keep. It was more lavish than a servant’s room, but was obviously not meant as a guest room for a noble. It held plain furniture in dull colors. The linens were serviceable, but worn and not as warm as they should be. The fireplace was large but had only a small fire lit for her arrival. The door was heavy and barred as soon as she was placed inside. There was a window overlooking the central courtyard of the keep, not the one just inside the moat. The window was not barred, but there was no way she would be able to climb down the tower and escape anyway.

  Her current plan was to use kerfios to escape. Her talent with healing was so strong she had the ability to render whomever she was healing unconscious. It was unethical to use this skill on someone who didn’t need it and it was difficult to accomplish on someone who was awake and not suffering. As it was, she felt terrible for planning to knock out the first person she thought it would work upon. It would be worth it to escape, though.

  She whirled around as the door opened and the duke strode into the room. He was still dressed in his travel clothes. Aenid could see two guards at the door before it closed. Bruson gave her a thoroughly evil smile and held up a silver necklace to her. “I have a present for you, my dear fiancée,” he said.

  “Since when did I completely lose my mind and agree to be your fiancée?” Aenid retorted.

  “Don’t be rude. You will learn that such behavior will be punished.” He walked closer to her, and she moved away from him. “Stay still!” he barked at her as she moved about the room evading him.

  She ignored him, not wanting to let his hands touch her body. He narrowed his eyes at her and called one of the guards in.

  “Hold her,” he ordered sharply and the guard grabbed both her arms and held her still, despite her struggles.

  Bruson then fastened the necklace around her throat. It fit snugly, like a collar. Aenid immediately felt ill. The room whirled and she gagged a little. The guard let her go and she fell to her knees, breathing heavily.

  Bruson got down on one knee and held his right hand in front of her. He wore a plain silver ring on his pinky finger. “This ring and collar are linked. It is a Torquin collar of compulsion. The wearer of the collar is compelled to obey the orders of the wearer of the ring and renders those that are collared unable to use their power unless allowed. The collar only works on those that can wield kerfios. It’s how the Torquin people keep their mages and such in line. It works very, very well. Would you like a demonstration?”

  Aenid couldn’t answer him. She was equally appalled and nauseous. Then she was gripped with staggering pain that caused her to collapse fully onto the floor. She had no idea how long the pain gripped her, but when it stopped she was soaked with sweat.

  Bruson looked down on her with those dead eyes. “You will do as you’re told from here on in, or suffer. It’s your choice.” With the finality of those words, he left the room.

  Aenid was left on the floor, shaking and exhausted. A young maid entered with a basin and fresh clothing. The maid looked at Aenid with pity in her eyes and helped her up. “I’m so sorry, My Lady,” she whispered.

  The maid, whose name was Deni, helped Aenid wash and dress herself in fresh clothing. Aenid tried to ask her questions about Dyfal, but the maid was terrified to answer. She told Aenid in her little whisper that she wasn’t supposed to speak at all. Aenid gave up. She didn’t want the girl hurt because of her questions.

  Aenid slept that night, mostly because she was exhausted from her ordeal with the collar pain. Several days passed with Aenid seeing no one aside from Deni. She counted herself lucky that she didn’t see Bruson, at least.

  At first, she spent her time trying to get the damned collar off. She couldn’t undo the clasp for some reason—it was like it was fused together. She couldn’t use her power to unlock it. She couldn’t even sense kerfios, much less draw upon it. After a while she couldn’t even stand to think about trying to get the collar off without feeling nauseous. Eventually, even if she tried to touch the collar she started to vomit violently. The thing was well and truly enchanted.

  When she wasn’t trying to get the collar off, she was trying to figure out what the duke’s endgame was. He obviously wanted her land, but why? Yes, Clawynd would extend his holding and add to his wealth, but there had to be more to it than that. It was a risk to hold her against her will and marry her when she had turned him down repeatedly. If he were found out, the repercussions would be severe. The king had no leniency for kidnapping, blackmail, and torture. He also wouldn’t look on approvingly if Bruson tried to unite the two holdings into one larger fiefdom.

  She suspected it had something to do with Torquin. Why else would he have a collar made in Torquin to control wielders of kerfios? Was the duke in collusion with the emperor of Torquin? She knew the duke had little or no talent for wielding kerfios, so could it be as simple as jealousy of those that could? It seemed so ridiculous to be jealous of a talent that was bestowed in a seemingly random fashion. Then again, people were jealous of less. But would he really betray his country over jealousy?

  She would have to find out what was going on, in addition to escaping.

  On the fifth day, Deni dressed her in an elegant gown and put her hair up in a complicated fashion. The gown was a deep blue and cut to reveal far too much of her breasts, in Aenid’s opinion. It was also pulled tight around her waist, emphasizing her hips, and left some of her back bare as well. She felt far too exposed.

  Two guards appeared to escort her to just outside what Aenid presumed to be the dining hall. Bruson awaited her. Aenid didn’t give him the grace of a greeting.

  “Look happy, my dear,” he said mockingly. “It’s the dinner to celebrate our engagement. The beautiful necklace around your neck is my present to you. All will admire its simple elegance, I think.”

  “You make me ill,” was Aenid’s reply.

  “Mmm. Yes, you are a little under the weather. That’s why this dinner has been delayed for some days, and why you will leave a bit early. But, of course, you’re overjoyed for now, and looking forward to the wedding. Frankly, I myself can’t wait to fuck you, and likely won’t wait until the wedding.”

  “You’re delusional if you think I will say the words in front of a priest and marry you, much less have sex with you willingly.” Aenid put as much scorn as she could into her words and immediately gasped in pain. The intensity of it made her stagger and the duke grabbed her arm to steady her. As fast as it came, the pain was gone.

  “I won’t cave to your administration of pain as punishment,” Aenid managed to say.

  “But you will. The pain will be unrelenting, but not damage your body in any way, but your mind will break with the strain. It will be tremendously sad that the baroness is mad, but I will produce documents to show you married me in a small, private ceremony earlier. It will be better to have a public ceremony, but I can make do. And I can still get you pregnant, even if you’re mad.” He gripped her arm so tightly that Aenid knew she would have bruises later. “Now smile and show the people how happy you are.”

  Aenid bared her teeth at him in more of a grimace than a smile. She hated to comply with the duke, but she needed to stay sane and alive if she were to escape. She hadn’t given up yet.

  The dining room had
about thirty guests. Aenid recognized some the knights from their journey and it appeared many of them had their wives or ladies with them. She was surprised to see Sir Turok present. At first she felt a flare of hope that he could help her. Then she noted he was seated at the duke’s right, indicating he ranked high in the duke’s esteem. She was seated on the duke’s left. Normally, she would be at the other end of the table as his fiancée, or wife eventually. Bruson pulled her to his side at the head of the table.

  “You have my apologies about the seating, my dear,” he said smiling down at her in his oily way. “But forgive me for wanting you close on this celebratory evening.”

  Aenid felt ill and said nothing at first. A little flare of pain flashed through her and she gritted her teeth and said, “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Bruson gave his fake laugh. “So formal, my dear. You will make the perfect hostess, as you do everything so well.” He seated her at the table and the party all took their chairs.

  Aenid barely managed to choke any of the food down, but she made the effort. She was determined to survive and find a way out.

  Chapter 7

  Lord Merrin strode through the castle of his King, the dust of his journey still on his clothes. He had finally arrived, four days after leaving the baroness. He had set a fast pace for the journey, wanting to see King Graydon and discuss his suspicions about Dyfal. He had a bad feeling about Duke Bruson. Merrin knew his duty was to protect the king, and part of that was rooting out any disloyalty or conspiracies, but he was not normally quick to jump to conclusions. He was sure there was something about Dyfal, however. There were too many nasty rumors and strange co-incidences involving the duchy of late.

  Merrin was one of the few that had more or less immediate access to the king when he wished. He strode through the king’s private wing of the castle, oblivious to the simple elegance surrounding him. There were servants quietly going about their duties. He caught the arm of the king’s personal servant.