The Stonegate Sword

by Harry James Fox

  Don drained his cup, and she pillowed furs beneath his head as he sank to the cushions. He was dimly aware as she pulled off his boots with strong hands. The warm glow of the coals warmed his feet.

  †

  Don felt a throbbing ache in his temples before he was fully awake. A beam of moonlight was shining across the room when he rubbed his eyes and sat up. He was alone before the hearth, wrapped in furs, lying before a small fire that still burned on the grate. Then there she was, gliding up to him with noiseless feet on the thick carpets. Or was it? The eyes were the same, as were the proud lips and the bold carriage. But her face seemed thinner, her body more slender, a trifle shorter. She carried a candle in a glass lantern. Her hair now looked more chestnut than black—perhaps auburn.

  He stood to greet her, but she silenced him with a gesture. She motioned for him to pick up his boots, then invited him to follow her with another gesture. Copying her silence, he followed her out of the room. He was somewhat confused. She left the room through a small door concealed by richly-worked tapestry, and led him down a dark, narrow hallway. Opening a larger door on the right she showed him into a spacious bedchamber. She looked him in the eye and motioned toward the high, carved bedstead.

  “This is your room. Please rest now,” she said simply, without expression. Before he could answer, she had slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her. He stood there gaping for a moment, a boot in each hand. Then he sprang to the door and opened it. He opened his mouth to call to her, but the corridor was empty.

  He closed the door and turned back toward the bed. Dropping his boots, he paced the floor for a few moments in bewilderment. Perhaps the second was a sister to … Then he realized that he did not know his hostess’ name. The bed was made and the covers turned back. A fire crackled in a fieldstone fireplace. Rugs covered the floor, and heavy, embroidered drapes flanked the window. The window was glazed with real panes of glass, set in lead in a diamond pattern. The room was a far cry from his mattress by the kitchen hearth or his garret at the lore-master’s house!

  His helm, mail and javelins lay on a sheepskin rug, glistening as though they had just been oiled. His shield and bow hung on pegs by the door, with his quiver of arrows. Then he saw his plain war sword and belt hanging by the bedstead, as if to be ready at need. His weapons reassured him much more than the fair treatment he had received.

  He turned the strange events of the evening over in his mind, searching in vain for a pattern. What was the late meeting with the lady about? The warm room made him feel his fatigue, and sunrise was still hours away. He closed the door, disrobed down to his underwear and climbed into bed. He quickly dropped into a deep sleep.

  His dreams were strange and wild, full of blowing snow, convoluted passages, candles burning a great distance away in a large room, and a woman’s mocking laughter. When he awoke, a clear sunbeam lay across the floor. He stretched his arms and yawned. As he did so, he heard a rustle that startled him. He looked to his right over his shoulder and sat up in bed. He looked directly into the eyes of a young woman. She was thickset, and her hair was bound with a brown scarf. Her matching brown kirtle was covered with a long, white apron. She smiled nervously, then gave a half bow-half curtsy.

  “Pardon me for waking you, sir,” she said. “I was bringin’ you a change of clothes. The lady said you’d be sleepin’ sound this mornin’.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” answered Don. “I should be up. What time is it?”

  “Time?” she asked. “Why, it must be about the third hour past sunrise. Perhaps two hours till mid day. But if you wish to wash, I’ll bring a basin of hot water.”

  As she hurried off, Don arose and slipped on a linen under-tunic from his pack, which was laying on the floor at the foot of the bed. He opened the wardrobe and saw a rich woolen tunic of blue wool, trimmed at the throat and cuffs with tawny fur. White linen trousers hung next to them, and his own boots, freshly blacked, placed below.

  After a knock on the partly-open door for politeness, the girl returned, bearing a steaming basin and two thick towels. These she placed on a low table below a small looking glass next to the window recess. The wall with the window was of whitewashed stone with two small tapestries showing battle scenes, the two adjoining walls were white stucco, while the wall with the door was of wood panels, carved in geometric patterns.

  She deftly made the bed, then turned to go. Don Impulsively caught at her elbow. “Stay a moment!” he said.

  “Yes sir,” she answered, half turning. “And what can I help you with?”

  “With information, I suppose,” he murmured, slowly. “What is your mistress’ name and that of this fine house?”

  “Well, I can answer you so much, at least,” she replied, not shrinking from his touch. She turned to face him, and he stepped back to arms’ length. “My mistress is the Lady Lilith. This house was called Ravenstead of old, but now my lady calls it Falcon Hall. She likes not the raven, but the falcon is a noble bird, as you’ll agree.”

  “Falcon Hall—Ravenstead,” Don muttered, half to himself. Somehow the names had a familiar ring.

  “Oh! My lady said that she will be eating brunch soon,” continued the slender girl. “If you wish, I can call you when it is ready.”

  “Of course,” returned Don, absently. “Thank you.”

  She left, almost noiselessly. Don began to feel a sense of unreality about his situation. He was being treated royally, so apparently the sudden change of mood on Lilith’s part had meant nothing. He recalled her warm, purring voice from the night before. That was it, he realized. She reminded him very much of a cat. Her direct gaze, her graceful movements, her bearing, all added to the feline effect. He wondered if she was as cruel to her helpless prey. Best to be gone right after the meal, he decided.

  He stripped and sponged off his body in the warm, soapy water, taking off several layers of wood smoke and horse sweat. When he pulled on his fresh clothes, topped by the tunic from the wardrobe, and combed his now clean hair and beard, he decided that he cut a decent figure. Almost fine enough to match his guest status!

  Brunch was a warm occasion. Lady Lilith was cheerful and chatty and Don found himself talking about his past life as a lore-man. The steward joined them late and cast a sour look at Don. He said little and little was said to him. They had tea after the meal, and before the dishes were cleared, the older man excused himself and left the table. He mentioned that he had accounts to be figured. She laughingly mentioned that the steward, whose name was Gregory, was apparently in a bad mood.

  Don had intended to make his excuses as well and be on his way, but one thing led to another and when he went to the stable to check his horses, he decided to stay another day. He realized that the rest would do the animals good, and he would do well to accept the invitation to stay another day.

  The keep was large, perhaps covering two acres. It was ringed by walls of hewn stone. Cleverly designed, the walls topped high cliffs on three sides that made attack from those directions almost impossible. A natural promontory within the walls provided the base for a watchtower, also built of quarried stone. The main house was walled with stone, gray granite, and roofed with equally gray slate. The stables and outbuildings were of similar construction, making them almost fireproof. The placed seemed well ordered. As Don watched, the latest snowfall was being shoveled onto carts and hauled out the front gate.

  Don returned to his room in the late afternoon and busied himself putting his gear in order. A knock at the door revealed a servant with a tray of food. It seemed that the mistress was indisposed, and no common meal was being served. Don did not mind, however, and enjoyed the hearty soup, accompanied by bread and cheese.

  †

  He awoke with a start to find a hand over his mouth. He grabbed and found a wrist, and would have struggled, had the wrist not been so small and a tiny cry warne
d him to take care.

  “Shhh,” came the warning from lips near his ear. “We must talk, but be very quiet. Make no light.”

  The voice did not sound like Lilith. Or was it? “Who are you?” he whispered. He sat up and swung sideways, still holding on to the wrist. His other hand found a shoulder and brushed against locks of hair. The room was almost black, with only a gray glow from the window.

  “A fool, I fear,” the soft voice answered. It was definitely not the lady. Somehow he felt a tug of disappointment. “You are hurting me.”

  Don relaxed his grip on her wrist, but did not release her. “If I cannot have a light,” he hissed softly, “then I want to know who you are.”

  “My name is Deborah. I need to talk to you,” she said. “It is for your own good.”

  “What do you mean? Why do you have to come here at night?”

  “Because if she knew I was speaking to you, she would—”

  “Very well,” he said. “Sit down here next to me, and I will hold your wrist only lightly. I don’t want to hurt you, and I would hear more.”

  Don pulled his legs back under the covers and sat cross-legged on the bed. He could feel her turn, and she sat with her back to him, on the edge of the bed. He shifted his grip and held her left wrist in his left hand. She turned slightly, so her lips were only inches from his ear.

  “You think Lady Lilith is your friend. She has a way with men. But be aware that she will be your ruin, in the end. Whatever happened between you and her in her bedroom—it means nothing.”

  “How did you know?” he began.

  “Shh! Not so loud,” she answered. “She treats all her victims with intimacy at first—those she plans to use. Why do you think all these warriors attend her and await her orders?”

  “Nothing happened between us!” he whispered, a bit indignant.

  What had happened, anyway? He seemed to have a gap in his memory. “What warriors?” he said aloud. “I have seen none.”

  “There are fifteen to twenty warriors of renown guesting here at any one time,” she answered. “I forgot that you have never eaten a common meal with the company.”

  “She sleeps with them, is that what you are saying?”

  “I said she is intimate with them, and that very rarely. Each is told that he is her true love, and that she is polite to the others only for show.”

  “She uses these wiles to hold her followers? Why?” asked Don. “Does she not rule by right of birth?”

  “She is of the royal line. But from her youth, dark things were spoken of her. She was careless as a girl and flirted with men from a young age. Her two older brothers would have ruled, but both died. One fell from a cliff under suspicious circumstances. The other brother was killed by a friend of hers. Some said that they were more than friends.” She paused.

  “Go on,” encouraged Don, trying to keep up with her rapid whisper.

  “She cried for her friend’s blood with all the rest. He was slain on the spot, at her command. Some say she was a bit too eager to see him silenced.”

  Don’s mind jumped ahead. “Her father,” he asked. “What of him?”

  “He also died. A long illness, it was. He may have been poisoned as some think, but perhaps not. At any rate, her mother did not long outlive her father.”

  Don’s mouth felt dry. What in—have I gotten myself into?

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “The council at first wanted to give the rule to her cousin, the late king’s nephew. But she had ardent followers on the council who finally prevailed. When she took power, the cousin and his supporters had to flee for their lives, as you must do!”

  “What?” exclaimed Don.

  “Shhh!” she exclaimed again, putting her free hand on his mouth.

  He could dimly see her outline, and realize that he still did not know who she was.

  “Who are you?” he asked again. “Have we met?”

  “Yes, of course,” came the answer. “I showed you to this chamber. Do you understand me?”

  “Why do you say that I must run away?”

  “You fool. Men say women are ruled by their emotions. Forget your passions for a moment and listen! This woman is a monster. She is totally amoral and would kill us both in an instant. Even now it may be too late for you, as it is for me.”

  “What do you mean? Tomorrow, I will simply ride out as I came in. You are welcome to come with me.”

  “Please believe me when I say that you are wrong, wrong, wrong. Don’t you understand that you will never be allowed to leave, until she is sure of you? You could be a threat to her. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes,” answered Don. “No—I don’t know. I have to think. Perhaps you are mistaken …”

  “I don’t know why I bothered. Please let me say one more thing, then I will have to go.”

  “I did not say I did not believe you. But you said I could not ride out. If that is true, what good does your warning do?”

  “I have a plan, but it must be done quickly. If you wait even another day, you may never escape.”

  “Say on,” he whispered.

  “In the morning, before breakfast, come to the stable in full armor. I will see that six horses are saddled, and your horse will be one. The girths on the other horses will be cut almost through. Give orders to the stable boys to lead all the horses out into the courtyard. Then mount yours and ride slowly out. The gate will be open. Then ride away as fast as you can.”

  “What about all my equipment and my other horse,” asked Don. “And why saddle six horses?”

  “Think this through. The other warriors often go out on various errands, but never alone. You would be stopped if you tried to leave with all your horses and equipment. But if it appeared that you were going for a ride with a number of her other retainers, then there would be no suspicion. I will give orders early this morning saying as much.”

  “What about my equipment and other horse?” Don repeated, stubbornly. Was this a ruse to rob him? “And what about you? Will you not be punished?”

  “As for your other horse—It adds danger, but for a small fee, one of the boys could take it out for some early exercise. When you leave, you could take it along. You will have to leave your equipment, I am afraid.”

  “Fine, but what about you? What if you were to be the boy?” asked Don. “You are slender enough. Get some boy’s clothes. Go to your room and cut your hair. Then ride out. You can ride?”

  “Yes, yes, I can ride. But it would be too much risk for you.”

  “I will not go if you do not go with me. Otherwise, how do I know that this is not just a trick to rob me?”

  “Very well,” she answered at last. “I will try. But I will have to be very fast. I will have to give the stable boys their orders dressed in my regular clothes. Then I will have to go back to my room, change, and return as a boy. It will all have to be done very quickly. And the ‘boy’ would do well to not be found in the women’s quarters!”

  Don thought furiously. If only he knew more about the situation. “Tell them that there is a new stable boy who will exercise one of the guest’s horses,” he suggested.

  “Yes. Good idea,” she agreed. “But I do not see how I can cut the girths as I had planned. You will have to do that. Use a sharp knife or a razor, and cut them almost through. Cut where the saddle skirting will hide the evidence. And be very careful. You must go out before breakfast, before sunup.”

  “I’ll leave before breakfast,” he said.

  “Good fortune,” she returned. Then she kissed his cheek as lightly as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. He opened his hand to release her, and she was gone. He was alone, but with thoughts swirling through his head like a dust devil. He debated the wisdom of the scheme in his mind, over and over. But no matter how he we
ighed the evidence, and despite the kindness with which he had been treated, he always returned to the same answer. Her story may be false, but to fail to try to leave was too big a risk. And he could see no reason that his leaving should benefit her. Sleep, usually a familiar friend, now became an elusive stranger. He tossed and turned until the first gray light of dawn brightened the stone window sill.

  He rose and dressed warmly with his traveling clothes. He cross gartered his legs above his riding boots. Just then, a knock came at the door. He opened to see the maid who had made his bed before the hearth when he had first arrived. She seemed startled to see him dressed, as if for a journey.

  “My mistress wants to know if you would like any special dish for breakfast. She suggests the cured pork and eggs,” said the girl, quickly, as if she had memorized the message.

  “That sounds delicious,” returned Don. “Please tell her that I will be somewhat late for breakfast, as I must first discuss a problem with one of my horses with her stable boys.” His mouth was dry. It seemed strange that the servant had come to his room so early. Did Lilith suspect something?

  “Yes, sir,” returned the girl, uncertainly. “Will you be riding today?”

  “I probably will, but this is probably something that I should discuss with your mistress after I have met with her servants,” said Don, firmly.

  With a slight nod the girl withdrew and closed the door. Don worked feverishly. He quickly donned his padded over-tunic and mail coat. He girded on his sword, and then threw his heavy gray, hooded cloak over his shoulders. Finally, he laced on his steel helm. He had already packed his saddlebags with spare clothing and dried meat. He swung his bowcase, quiver and saddle bags over his left shoulder, his shield over his back, and held the case of javelins in his right hand. Anyone that saw him would know instantly that he planned a hard ride, but he dared not make two trips, even though each would have been less obvious.