Lunamae

by April Sadowski

  “Someone might be injured,” she shot back from the bottom of the stairwell. “Remember last time?” I bounded down the stairs and arrived at the bottom as well.

  “I’m surprised you do,” I said, panting with exhaustion as we exited the keep. She had slowed a bit as she saw banners from the other side of the Humble Bridge.

  “Who are they?” she asked curiously. She put her hands over her eyes to shield them from the solis which had been setting in that direction. “I’ve never seen those crests before.”

  “Perhaps you have not seen them because they are not from a clan,” my father said behind us. His quick interruption scared me and I jumped. He apologized quickly and continued, “It’s an embassy from Kyrie, although I have no idea why they are here. It has been almost ten years since the Battle of Wortha Hill and I assume they are ready to make peace of some sort with us. Perhaps they want to apologize -- fancy good that would do -- or present a token of humility by offering us something.”

  “Where is my mother?” Lunamae asked quickly. “I can’t see her from here.”

  “She’s probably preparing royal adornments and getting a guard escort together. We can’t trust them to be amicable,” my father replied, “or her for that matter.” I took a look at his hardened face, wearing thin with age. His skin was darkened from the work at the ironsmith shop, preparing shoes. He was in his early forties now and grey hairs were beginning to overtake his brown head. He had wrinkles adorning his face as well. I never really noticed it much. He was still my father and to me I will always remember him with a full head of brown hair and smoother skin.

  Chief Dame Angharad came out of the keep, an ample amount of guards surrounding her.

  “It would be good of you to follow us,” she said, addressing us. “Lunamae, you need to be made aware of our enemies now for when the time comes you must rule.”

  “Enemies?” I thought aloud. “It’s been so long though.”

  “Not long enough,” Angharad said bitterly, toying with the wooden band on her finger. “The chieftain is still dead.” The embassy of about a dozen individuals was led up the bridge by several of the watchmen and soon they were literally face-to-face with us.

  “We come from Kyrie in peace and in the hope of future peace,” one of the men stated in a gentle voice. I looked the group over. The man who spoke was middle-aged, probably not past his twenties. He had a head of short cropped brown hair with only a hit of facial stubble. He had prominent cheekbones and a long, slightly hooked nose. Many others seemed to be middle-aged as well—most likely because of the course of travel taken it would be easier for a younger person to make the trek. They wore unusual clothes. They were more like bed robes than anything else. I didn’t notice any weapons but I assumed they could have been hidden underneath if necessary. “I am Gaius. We have heard about the wondrous birth of Lunamae and offered our best wishes to her. We would have come sooner but we thought things might be—unpleasant.”

  “What is so special about Lunamae’s birth?” my aunt questioned. She shifted under the royal robes she wore.

  “Haven’t you heard?” Gaius said surprised, his eyes wide in amazement. “Her birth is an omen, a sign from the stars that peace is here. A few years ago a rhymester came to us, singing of a song that has come to pass in her. She can unite the clans in this land and we can all live in civility.”

  “Unite the clans?” Angharad said, raising her voice. “Have you not heard of the Wuriven? They came here almost five years ago with the intention of killing my Lunamae. We sent a band over there to converse to get to the root of the matter and it is by the blessing of the Creator alone that my people left with their lives intact. I will tell you what will bring peace.” She paused and shouted to the guards, “Seize them! Lock them in the dungeons.” The chief dame turned to Gaius. “If Kyrie wants peace then they will leave us alone or I will kill you all.” I was shocked by Angharad’s actions although I knew why she did it. She still held bitter feelings towards the people who killed her husband. I wasn’t sure if any passage of time could change those.

  The guards did as they were told. As they were led off I noticed a boy, not much older than Lunamae, being escorted to the dungeons as well. He was so young and didn’t deserve to be sent into the dungeons. Granted, I didn’t think anyone other than criminals needed to be sent to there. It was a cold, dark place and the stench of decay made you want to gag. I had only ever been there once out of curiosity as a child and it was enough for me. I caught Lunamae’s eye and gave her a cautious look.

  “It would be for the best, at present, if we do not try to interfere with your mother’s wishes. She is a hard woman,” I whispered. “Perhaps we should see to it that the prisoners are kept in good health and are well cared for.”

  “So you think we could visit today?” Lunamae asked excitedly.

  “It would be too late I think. The lunalight will be fast approaching and I don’t like being out after dark,” I answered, adding, “Especially not in a nasty dungeon.”

  “Very well Muirenn, I’ll do as you ask. Can we get something to eat now? I don’t think there will be a family meal with all of the commotion.” I nodded and led her back to the house. My father went back to the stables to finish shoeing one horse. When I entered I saw Logan and my mother at the table, deep in conversation.

  “It’s not right, they didn’t do anything wrong by coming here,” Logan said angrily. “It’s been ten years; you would think Angharad could get over it by now.” I was surprised that even my brother had lost his hostile feelings towards Kyrie, but perhaps seeing as how he had moved on with his life and had a proper career now changed things.

  “That’s my mother you are talking about!” Lunamae said, her arms crossed in the doorway.

  “Sorry Lunamae, but it is true. Your mother has had a grudge towards them ever since your father was killed. It is not healthy to keep all her anger stored up. Those Kyrians have not done anything wrong. There is no reason why she should act like they had. We know what it like to lose a family member as well,” my mother, Adelle, stated plainly. Lunamae huffed. Being nine there was no way she would be able to just run out of the house so she went up to the loft we now shared and flopped. My mother turned to me. “Would you fancy some tea, Muirenn?”

  “Yes, thanks.” My mother was home more frequently now. Angharad was very bitter and there was only so much my mother could palette. I watched her take an herb bag down from one of the shelves. She put it in a pot of water and set the pot in a spit over the fireplace. Then she prepared a fire since it was Julna and we still had a while before the cold of night was upon us and the fire would need to be kept at all times. The spit was designed so it was two pieces combined. The two pieces branched in the center and rejoined allowing for the pot to sit within. It was one of my father’s inventions and it helped speed up the boiling process tremendously. Having the kettle near the hearth took longer.

  My father returned after shoeing a horse, his hands were a little dirty and so he washed outside before entering. “I hear you plan on visiting the dungeon. You spoke a little too loud,” he said as Mother handed him a towel to dry off. “I won’t tell. I think it is a good idea. Perhaps Lunamae can soften up my sister. I obviously can do no good with her. Leofric was a good man and didn’t deserve to die but the Kyrians lost plenty too in that battle. You can’t blame them all, especially not the boy I saw with them.” Father then headed to his room and shut the door. I heard Lunamae overhead mumbling something.

  “Is there something you wanted to add, Lunamae?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. I rolled my eyes and waved my mother and brother off and I headed up the stairs to the loft. Lunamae was on a pallet next to mine and was laying with her chest to the roof, staring up in a pout. “What is wrong with her?”

  “With who?” I asked, although I knew exactly who she meant.

  “My mother,” she said firmly. I took off my overdress and laid down on my pallet. She rolled over to l
ook at me. “Mothers are supposed to be kind and loving.”

  “She thinks she is,” I said. “She was doing it for you, to protect you.”

  “From a boy?” Lunamae wondered.

  “Kyrie was responsible for the death of your father,” I said.

  “The boy wasn’t. He would have been a toddler,” she retorted.

  I sighed in frustration. “Perhaps his father, then.”

  “They don’t seem like the type of people who go to battle. They are calm and have soothing voices,” Lunamae said with a yawn. I was getting tired as well.

  “Get some rest. I told you we would see to their care and well-being tomorrow. We can find out more then,” I said and she nodded.

  “Good night Muirenn.”

  “Good night Lunamae.”

  The next morning we headed to the cook house with Lunamae leading the way. She asked the cook for a whole feast of dishes and I told her that might be too much and stir up suspicion so perhaps it would be better to limit it to a couple … a couple very loaded plates. While we waited for the kitchen staff to prepare them we took our leave outside where it was cooler, away from the cooking fires.

  “Does our village have any mages?” Lunamae asked me. I had never heard her talk about magic before, it was odd she would bring it up now. “I was wondering because one of the manuscripts I found in the library mentioned them.”

  “Occasionally some are found with a gift,” I said, nonchalantly. “If they are discovered, they travel to Fanarion where they can be more properly taught to harness them. Magic is not as strong here as it once was. It has been forbidden altogether in Chalos.”

  “I was wondering. I thought perhaps a mage could get the Kyrians out,” Lunamae said.

  “I don’t think it would be a good idea,” I said, sniffing the air. I could tell something had been put on a spit in the kitchen because the smell of cooking meat reached my nose.

  “Why not?” Lunamae inquired, brushing a few blowing strands of her locks away from her face. The morning wind had picked up; a storm was probably coming our way.

  “It would lead suspicion in town that there were traitors about. Anyone who wouldn’t obey the commands of your mother would be considered a traitor. We wouldn’t want nosy people hindering our helping the prisoners,” I stated. She nodded in realization.

  “Is there something we could do while we wait?” she asked me, shifting anxiously. “I’m bored.” While not the most amusing or entertaining thing to do, I offered her the suggestion of working on her mother’s tapestry to which she agreed. It made sense to do so, as some distraction. We walked to the keep and headed up to the sewing room. My mother was inside, working on something for herself. She tucked it away as we entered. I assumed she wanted to help us with the tapestry as that was our most current project.

  “Good day to you both,” she said warmly.

  “Good day,” we replied formally. We found the tapestry loom where we had last left it. Lunamae had been doing the hard part, weaving back to front, and I had been guiding her through. I had to make sure she kept the threads a little loose so the tapestry sides didn’t get narrower. My mother was there to offer additional assistance as she had helped with the one at the main keep entrance. The women had taken turns with it. She also had made embroidered motifs to be added onto the tapestry later.

  “What are you two up to today, besides you-know-what?” Mother questioned.

  “I hadn’t thought past it yet,” I uttered. After a couple of hours or so, gauging from the solislight, we stopped our work and Lunamae put the loom away. We headed back to the cook house to check up on the status of the foods.

  “Here are your two plates of freshly cooked braised beef, a bit of the beef stew, and a leg of lamb as requested,” the cook said, displaying the food in front of us in a very professional manner. Lunamae took one dish and I took the other. I made sure she took the lighter one because of her stature.

  “Perhaps we should cover it,” I said, thinking that bringing such delicious food down to the dungeons might arouse suspicion. If it was covered, the guards wouldn’t know what it looked like and they could smell it was obviously food.

  “Whatever for?” the cook inquired, a bit annoyed.

  “We would like to retain the heat,” I affirmed, raising my head like a maiden of the keep.

  “I see,” the cook said. We waited as he clambered about in the kitchen, looking for something appropriate. He procured two lids and placed them atop the dishes. We issued our hearty thanks and headed back towards the keep. The dungeons were obviously in the lower depths of the keep and were accessible through one narrow passageway that was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the walls in low light. We entered the keep and walked towards the passageway. There were no lit sconces as there had been last time I had been there.

  “I hope you aren’t afraid of the dark,” I said in all seriousness.

  “I will manage,” Lunamae said proudly. She followed my lead as I walked down carefully. The farther down we went, the more the smell of decay filled our noses. Thank goodness we were carrying food which helped conquer the nasty smells. As we approached the celled area we noticed a faint light getting stronger and brighter. The sconces were lit so there were guards down there. There were only a couple and they approached us slowly. They easily picked up the features of Lunamae and I, and inquired on why we would be in the dungeons.

  “We have brought food. For the prisoners, of course,” I said, as if the guards were dumb. Expressions of confusion danced across their faces in the dim light of the sconce fire.

  “They have already been fed,” one of the guards said, his deep voice bouncing off of the stone walls.

  “Perhaps you think so, but the food they are given wouldn’t fill you well I am sure,” I said. I had to give away our secret because otherwise our presence would have made no sense and I didn’t want it getting back to the chief dame. “We want to see they are cared for properly. If the prisoners ever survive and are returned we don’t want to be known as being savages.”

  “Indeed,” another guard said. “By all means, feed them ‘properly’ then.” The guards let us by and we looked into the cells. Only a half a day had passed so the people didn’t look sickly or starved. I could imagine from the amount of traveling they did they would still be in need of decent food. I offered them my plate and Lunamae offered hers through one of the bottom grates which was shaped in a rectangle for such uses.

  “Thank you,” the one called Gaius said to me. They gave most of the food to the boy who ate hungrily.

  “Why do you not share all equally?” Lunamae asked. Even in the dim light I could see a look of surprise appear her face.

  “Marcus requires it more than us,” Gaius said. With the food in the cells, the musky odors of the dungeon were becoming overly pungent and I covered my nose with my hand.

  “— Because my father is a Dominar,” the boy stated, munching on a bit of the beef.

  “Shh, they aren’t supposed to know that,” Gaius said, unnerved.

  “It’s all right. I won’t tell,” Lunamae assured. “My mother wasn’t right to stick you down here.”

  “Your mother?” Gaius wondered curiously.

  Lunamae nodded. “The chief dame.”

  “Oh, that bit—” Marcus started to say, but was cut off by Gaius who told him to watch his tongue.

  “I am sure she has some valid reason for putting us down here because the explanation she gave didn’t make sense,” Gaius said, taking a potato from the stew and plopping it in his mouth. I tried not to think about the dirtiness of his hands.

  “So a Dominar is one of the decision-makers of Kyrie?” I inquired as the word was unfamiliar to me. Gaius nodded and swallowed so he would be able to speak.

  “Yes, but Marcus’ father wasn’t involved in the decision to go to war with Frys. That was made by one of the radicals who has now been replaced. Unfortunately the votes were somehow miscounted or rigged to where the majo
rity of the Dominar Delegates were of this unconventional way of thinking. Kyrians on the whole have always been a peaceful people. The radicals wanted your territory,” the man explained.

  “So what are you?” Lunamae asked. “I mean, what is your title?”

  “I am an ambassador. I represent all the Dominar Delegates of Kyrie and I initiate peace and trade between people groups. As I had said before, they wanted to have peace with Clan Frys. All of the corrupt Dominars have been removed from office. They will not pose a danger to you any longer.”

  “I see. If only my aunt could get past her anger,” I said sympathetically. “We can’t do any good in getting you out of here. Lunamae can’t address her mother—she is much too young. She is under my care and if she were to get into trouble my family would be at fault and take the punishment. All we can do is see to your health and make sure that you don’t starve.” I realized that part of the smell in the air was body odor. The Kyrians were dirty from their travels and living in close quarters only added to it. “I will see that clean water is sent down for you all to bathe—at least three times a week. We will also see to your nourishment.”

  “Marcus, will you be all right?” Lunamae asked the boy. He stopped eating for a second and their eyes met.

  “I will manage,” he said, though not forgetting to add, “Thanks.” It almost made me laugh that he used the same phrase that Lunamae had said earlier.

  “We must leave because we don’t want to attract too much attention by our absence. You understand,” I said. The ambassador nodded and motioned us to leave. We passed by the guards on the way up to the main level of the keep.

  “He seems nice,” Lunamae said.

  “Gaius is nice,” I stated. The ambassador left a good impression with me and I wished my aunt could get past their differences in the hope of peace.

  “No,” she said firmly, correcting me. “Marcus.”

  “He sounded like he was a spoiled brat,” I said.