The Baroness of Clawynd

by Morgan Henry

  “Where is His Majesty?” he asked Doan.

  “In his study, Lord Merrin,” the man responded politely. “He will be happy to see you home sooner than expected.”

  “Thank you, Doan.” Merrin was genuinely fond of the loyal man.

  Merrin hurried to the king’s study and nodded to the guards. Of course he knew both of the men well. After all, the king’s security was one of his responsibilities. He knocked on the door and entered when bidden.

  King Graydon was a man in his prime. He was close in age to Merrin and as large, well muscled from his exertions in the practice yard, honing his swordsmanship. He had sandy hair and blue eyes. Those eyes could appear warm to his friends, and very, very cold when dispensing justice.

  Right now, his eyes were welcoming. “Merrin, I’m glad you’re back. You’re sooner than I expected.” The king came around the desk and clapped his hands on Merrin’s shoulders in greeting.

  Merrin bowed to his liege. “I am happy to see you as well, Your Majesty. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

  King Graydon frowned. “Yes, I heard about the baron’s death. Such a tragedy.” His voice was filled with regret. The king had known the baron since he was a boy and was fond of the man. “How is his daughter?”

  Merrin thought immediately of how Aenid felt in his arms and how much he ached to be back with her. “She’s lovely,” he murmured. The king raised an eyebrow and grinned at him. “I mean she will do well with the holding, Sire. But our more immediate issue is that the death of the baron is less of a tragedy and more of a murder.”

  Graydon immediately sobered. “There was nothing in her message about that. What’s going on?” He gestured to the chairs in front of the fire and they sat.

  Merrin filled him in on what he had found in the ravine and his concerns regarding Dyfal. “I didn’t tell the baroness about her father’s death. Perhaps I should have, but you needed to know first and I didn’t want to distress her.”

  The king was quiet for a few moments. “You’re absolutely right, we need to go to Dyfal immediately and investigate your suspicions. We will leave in three days. That will be tight for preparations, but it can be done. We’ll travel very light, move quickly, and should be there in a few days.”

  “Yes, My Liege,” Merrin agreed.

  “As for Robal, I too, find it hard to believe he is a murderer, much less disloyal. His father is a good knight and there’s never been a hint of problem. He does come from Dyfal, but his family is on the border with Neath and has associated more with the count than the duke. Yet, you’re not usually wrong. We’ll have to watch him closely, but let’s keep this between us for now. I would hate to destroy his reputation based only on inconvenient curiosity.”

  “Aye, Your Majesty.”

  “And yes, I think you should have told the baroness about her father. She won’t thank you for keeping it a secret, even though it was partly to protect her. If she were her father’s daughter, she would have kept it to herself, had you asked. And since I suspect she has stolen your heart, I wish you the best in your pursuit of her. Has she given you any hope?”

  Merrin smiled. “Yes, Your Majesty, she has. I wish to return to court her when this mess is finished.”

  “You have my encouragement. I’ll try to spread out some of your duties so you have more time to spend with her.”

  Merrin was a little shocked. “Your Majesty, I was asking nothing of the sort—”

  “I know. You would never ask.” The king interrupted his favorite advisor. “But I want you to have the happiness you deserve. You have worked long and hard for the crown, and that warrants some reward. I can’t completely do without you, but I’ll try to make sure you have time to properly woo the baroness.”

  Merrin was almost at a loss for words. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I don’t know how to express my gratitude appropriately.”

  “No need, my friend, no need.”

  Merrin bowed to his King and left to start preparations for the journey.

  It was a ridiculously busy three days. Assembling the men and supplies needed for the journey was no easy task, but when the king ordered, men obeyed. True to his word, the king took only the necessary men, few servants, and they would camp along the way, rather than stay in any of the noble houses or inns. It was similar to mounting a war campaign. Merrin thought it might be good practice. If Torquin were behind this plot, war may not be far away.

  Two mornings later, the group set off. Accompanying the king and Merrin were Merrin’s brother, Duke Arto of Bridegend, Count Falk of Cordigan, Robal, Deris, and several other knights of the Realm, as well as sundry squires and personal servants. There were plenty of extra horses, both spare mounts and pack animals.

  Merrin was somewhat concerned, and irritated, that Turok had not returned to the castle by the time preparations were made. It was true, he hadn’t told the knight a specific day to be back, but Merrin was surprised Turok would dally so long. Merrin thought he had been clear enough when he told Turok that it could cause trouble if they couldn’t find him. He left a message for him at the castle, should he return in enough time to catch up with them.

  It was close to dawn when the party set off and nearing dusk when they stopped for the day. They camped in a woodlot near a large village. Merrin gave the man who farmed the land a gift of coin as a courtesy, though the king had a right to camp anywhere in his kingdom. Merrin thought the eyes of the farmer’s wife were going to pop out of her head when she heard the king was camping practically on their doorstep. She kindly sent a large dessert of baked apples for the men, claiming they needed something hot before bed. The poor lady’s legs gave out and she had to sit in the royal presence when the king came to thank her personally for the dessert as they set off the next day.

  It was much the same as they travelled to Dyfal. The only break came when they stayed at the castle of the Earl of Neath for a night. It felt like quite the luxury to spend the night in a bed and eat a sumptuous meal for a change. Count Valko joined them the next day as they continued their journey, along with a couple of his knights.

  Hopefully, this visit to the duke was a surprise, and they could catch him out if anything was amiss.

  * * * *

  Aenid thought she might finally have a trick to get around the collar. She had made progress, anyway. For a time, she had been unable to even touch it without feeling crippling nausea and some pain. But she had convinced herself that the duke would want her to touch the collar. He would want her to feel it and know she was his slave. And because it was his wish, his order, she could touch the collar without punishment.

  So, she needed to come up with a way to truly believe that she could leave the room because it was the duke’s wish, or take the collar off, or do something else to finally escape. How to trick her mind into believing a lie was not an easy task, though.

  She was trying to come up with something truly believable, when the door to her tower prison opened. Aenid was shocked when Turok strode through the door.

  “Bruson sending you to do his dirty work now?” she asked rudely.

  “I’ve been guilty enough of that in the past, but no more,” he answered, a grimace on his face. “I’ve done some stupid, terrible things, but I won’t stand by and watch you be used and killed in the manner he plans.”

  Aenid couldn’t disguise the shock on her face. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve made a mess of my life. It’s beyond repair, but I’ll do what I can. I will set you free, but you’ll have to make your own way out of Dyfal. I can’t disappear or he will be too suspicious. I’ll have to make a good show of looking for you, in the wrong place of course.” Turok’s words put on a good front, but his voice sounded slightly defeated.

  “You’re helping me to escape? And what do you mean by a mess? Surely we can find a way to remedy your mistakes.” Aenid’s mind was whirling with the sudden change in her fortunes.

  “I fell for the promises of wealth and powe
r from the duke. I wanted to get ahead, wanted to be more than just a knight. I came from common stock, but had enough talent with kerfios and enough skill with a blade that I worked my way to knighthood. But it wasn’t enough, and it should have been, I see that now.

  “Bruson hates anyone who can wield kerfios. He doesn’t know that I have any real talent with it. He has barely a drop of talent with it in his blood and it drives him mad with jealousy. He’s adopted the beliefs of the Torquins, believing that those who can use it are evil and need to be controlled, but that’s really just an excuse for him to grab more power. He’s thrown his lot in with them, and is about to use Dyfal and Clawynd as a staging ground for an invasion. You must get to the king and stop this madness.

  “I’ll remove the collar and help you out of the keep. Instead of heading for Clawynd, as everyone would expect you to, you must head for Kerfaen and the king. Do you understand?” Turok looked at her fiercely.

  He had been speaking so rapidly, it took Aenid a few seconds to process all of it. She finally nodded. “Yes, head to Kerfaen and tell the king of Dyfal’s betrayal. But you haven’t completely betrayed the king, you can still be redeemed.” Aenid was determined to help the man who helped her.

  Turok shook his head. “No, I have done worse, but I cannot tell you.” His eyes were haunted as he turned her around and put his fingers on the hated collar. She heard him take a deep breath and exhale. The collar tingled then fell to the floor. Aenid thought it looked like an evil serpent, coiled on the rug. She leaned over to pick it up, intending to take it to the king.

  Turok stopped her. “No, leave it. Bruson can tell by the ring if the collar goes too far away. He might even be able to track you with it. But he won’t know how you got the collar off and it will drive him mad when he discovers it. Now come.” He grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the stairs. They slipped through the castle using the servants’ passages and stairs. They finally entered a small storage room where a young woman was waiting.

  “This is Hara. Her brother’s leg is broken and has been set wrong. There are no healers left in the village to fix it,” Turok explained. “Bruson has driven anyone who can use kerfios away. She will help you out of the castle and out of the village if you will heal her brother.”

  “I would heal him regardless,” Aenid said. “But thank you for helping.”

  “It’s not right, what the duke is doing,” Hara said softly, frightened to speak such words aloud. Aenid could see her tremble a little and Hara’s eyes were wide with fear. “Please put on this, My Lady.” She held out a servant’s gown.

  “You’d better not call me ‘My Lady’,” Aenid noted as Hara helped her slip out of her finer gown and put on the servant’s livery. Turok politely turned his back on them as she changed. Hara mussed Aenid’s hair a little and smudged a bit of dust on her face.

  “She’s right,” said Turok. “You’re now ‘Nan.’ Do you understand, Hara?”

  “Yes, My Lord,” she murmured. “Come. Nan. We’re two maids on our half day away, and we don’t want to miss a minute of it.”

  Turok left them, and Hara and Nan made their way to the drawbridge. Hara found her courage and chatted and flirted with the guards like nothing was amiss. She introduced Nan as a new maid. The guards commented on Nan’s shyness, and how they would work to get her over it. She blushed at their comments, which amused the guards greatly.

  They continued to the village, where Hara took Nan to Hara’s family home. It was a modest yet cozy house for the small family. Set at the edge of the village away from the keep, it had a small kitchen garden and a little bit of privacy from the neighbors.

  Her father and two other brothers, all smiths, were working, and Hara’s mother was away visiting Hara’s aunt. She took Aenid upstairs where her injured brother, an apprentice carpenter, was in bed.

  “This lady will heal you,” she told him. “But you can’t get up for another week, and you’ll tell no one what happened. If you do, we’ll likely both get the noose. Do you understand?”

  “Aye,” he agreed, his eyes wide.

  “Good. Don’t say another word,” Hara commanded him.

  Aenid said nothing. The less the young man knew about her the better. She went over to the bed and lifted the blanket off the youth’s leg. It was a mess. The bone was indeed set poorly, it wouldn’t heal straight the way they had it. There were also wounds where the bone had punctured the skin, which were now infected and oozing foul-smelling pus. It would take a great deal of her skill and strength to heal this.

  She knelt by the bed and centered herself. She placed her hands on the leg and started to extend her power. First, she entered the lad’s mind and took away his pain and slid him into a deep sleep. Then she turned her attention to knitting the bone straight and making the repair as solid as possible. Next, she worked on the soft tissue, driving out the infection, repairing the muscles, skin, and supporting structures. To keep up the fiction that the leg had healed without a Healer, she left the superficial scabs of the wounds in place. Now they would heal properly since the infection and deeper wounds were dealt with. Then, in an attempt to protect the young man, she erased the memory of her presence. She left him unconscious, in a deep healing sleep that would help him continue to recover.

  She and Hara wrapped and splinted the leg to cover the fact that it was healed. Hara planned to tell her family that she had persuaded a man from the keep to help heal it without kerfios. That fiction would hopefully help keep the family safe as well as hide Aenid’s tracks.

  The two women went silently downstairs. Hara produced another dress, this one a simple homespun that a village woman would wear, with the skirts divided for walking and riding. She put up Aenid’s long hair and wrapped a kerchief over it. Hara made Aenid a simple meal to help restore her strength from healing, and Aenid rested for an hour or so in one of the beds. When she awoke, Hara gave her directions to set her on the road to Kerfaen and a small sack of coin from Turok to help along the way. There were no horses in the village for sale, but Turok hoped she could buy one along the way to hasten her journey.

  “I can’t thank you enough for healing my brother, My Lady,” Hara said, her eyes shining with tears. “When I saw the foulness in his wounds, I knew he was as good as dead unless we could find a Healer.”

  “No, Hara,” Aenid corrected her. “I am in your debt. I would have healed your brother if given the opportunity. It is you who risked everything to save me. Your Duke was set on making me his slave, and I likely would have ended up dead at his hands. Thank you, Hara. You’re a brave young woman. Now go back to work, and forget about me.”

  Aenid left the house and followed Hara’s directions to leave the village. It was mid-afternoon, so there was time to get away from the village and find a place to hide for the night. The dress Hara had given her was warm, and there was a cloak to go with it she could use for a blanket. The coin would do her little good tonight, as she wouldn’t be close enough to another village to find an inn.

  Aenid spent the night burrowed into a haystack in a field. It was warm enough through the cold night, but she felt like she would be picking straw out of her dress and underthings for the next year. She was fairly certain a mouse had tried to nest in her hair at some point in the night.

  The next morning she was tired and hungry but carried on as if the duke’s men were on her heels. For all she knew, they were, despite Turok’s efforts to steer them in another direction.

  She managed to buy some food at the next tiny village she went through, and that did much to restore her strength. She even got a ride for a bit on a cart travelling back to a farm after delivering vegetables to the village. By late afternoon her strength was waning again, but she pushed on. The duke’s men would have horses and be able to catch up with her in a few hours if they got wind of her direction.

  She was travelling through a rocky pass that was part of the descent from the heights where the keep was located, when she heard the tramp of hooves and t
he jingle of horse tack. It sounded like a large party. She froze and listened, unsure whether the sound was coming from ahead or behind. There were too many echoes in the rock passageway. She began to panic, as there was nowhere to hide. The sides of the pass were steep so she couldn’t climb her way out. She would run, but what if she went the wrong way and encountered the party? She couldn’t believe it was anyone other than the duke’s men, regardless of the direction they were heading.

  Aenid felt sick with terror. She couldn’t allow the duke’s men to capture her. She would not have that hated collar put back around her neck. She would not be forced to obey the duke by means of torture. She was shaking with fear, but she had to find the courage to carry on.

  She would just have to pull her cloak up near her face and try to brazen it out. She was a village girl named Nan trying to visit her aunt in the next village. If she kept her head down and curtsied clumsily, they would likely not take any notice of her. She hoped.

  Chapter 8

  She walked steadily through the pass. The horses were definitely ahead of her—she could tell that now. As she came around a slight bend, she got her first glimpse of the riders. It was a large party that appeared to be of knights.

  Aenid just about sobbed in terror. They had to belong to Bruson, heading to his Keep to plot against the king. She moved to the side of the pass, as any commoner would do, and tried to be inconspicuous. She tried to convince herself that most of them wouldn’t know her face. She wasn’t often at court, and Clawynd didn’t receive many visitors from Dyfal.

  The vanguard of the party passed her and she curtsied, daring a look at the large men on horseback. She wasn’t really scrutinizing them, but one man caught her eye for some reason. She looked closer at him.

  “Merrin!” she cried. Thank the god and goddess!

  Merrin’s head whipped around at the sound of his name. He looked at her, frowning for a second, then recognition dawned in his eyes. “Aenid!” he cried and leapt off his horse, rushing toward her.