Griffin's Daughter

by Lelsie Ann Moore

  As Dari listened to Magnes’s words of advice, he slowly deflated like a punctured wineskin. Crestfallen, he nodded in understanding. Just then, the boy Pip returned with the mare.

  Dari took the halter rope from the child’s hand and gave his little shoulder a pat. “Good boy, Pip. Now, go an’ get the brushes and picks an’ I’ll let you help with th’ groomin’.” The child’s face lit up like a candle, and he ran to obey.

  Magnes waited in the shade while the two boys groomed and tacked up the mare. After they had finished, he thanked the boys and mounted, turning the horse’s head towards the main gate. The boys waved as he left the stable yard, and he raised his hand in acknowledgement.

  The guardsmen turned at the sound of approaching hoof beats. Magnes hailed them, and they snapped off a crisp salute as he rode past and out onto the switchbacks leading down off Amsara’s rocky eyrie. At the base of the hill, he turned and rode along the outskirts of Amsara village until he came to the road that led south.

  Amsara’s chief game warden lived with his family on a small homestead about half a mile outside of the village, within spitting distance of the verge of Duke Teodorus’s private woodland hunting grounds. When they were children, he and Livie would spend hours exploring every bower and thicket beneath the lush, green canopy. The woods became their own special, magical playground. Later, when they had grown from playmates into lovers, the woods served as their trysting place, enfolding their passion within its protective embrace.

  Magnes still felt angry and guilty that he had had to leave so precipitously, with no time to explain to Livie. She probably thinks I abandoned her,he thought. He prayed that she would be at home and that she would be willing to listen to him. He recalled how he had once resolved to set her free so that she would have a chance for a decent match. He chided himself for his foolishness. As long as he lived, he could never let go of Livie. His body stirred with the memory of the last time they’d made love, just before Sansa.

  Somehow, they would find a way to join their lives.

  He urged the mare into a slow lope. After a while, horse and rider turned off the main road onto a narrow track that led across a small, cultivated field. A neat, thatched cottage surrounded by a wooden fence stood at the far end. A brace of hounds bayed at the gate as he pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted.

  The cottage door flew open and a woman’s voice bellowed forth from the dark interior. “What’s all that racket, then!” The owner of the voice poked her head around the door frame and let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, Lord Magnes, as I live and breathe!” The woman disappeared briefly, then reappeared armed with a broom. She flew out of the door and descended upon the dogs like a stooping eagle, swinging the broom in a great arc. The hounds’ frantic barks turned to yelps of pain as they scrambled out of the way.

  “Get back, you mangy curs! You know Lord Magnes! What’s the matter with you? Go on, get out of here!” she hollered, and the dogs, sensing that the time for a strategic retreat had come, backed off with tails wagging.

  “Hello, Mistress Honoria. It’s good to see you,” Magnes said, smiling.

  Livie’s mother had lost none of her formidable energy, even after twenty-five years of marriage and seven children. She ran her household as tightly as any warship, and she was widely known and respected as the best potter in the district. Livie, as the eldest child, was apprenticed to the trade, and already had a reputation as a fine craftswoman in her own right.

  “Hello to you, Lord Magnes. Come in, come in. Don’t know what’s gotten into those dogs. Truth be told, they’re all bluster and no action.” She swung open the gate to allow Magnes to enter the yard. “I’ve got some of my homemade elderberry wine if you’ve a thirst. I know how much you enjoy it.” Her blue eyes twinkled merrily.

  “I would love some, Mistress. Thank you.” Magnes followed Honoria into the cool interior of the thick-walled cottage. The two dogs tailed them to the door then sat on the threshold, whining and licking their chops.

  “Greedy scoundrels,” their mistress muttered, though not without some affection. “They know I’ve been making meat pasties, and they think they can play me for some more scraps, though the gods know they’ve had more than their share already.” Magnes laughed at the tragic looks on the dogs’ faces. He sat at the well-worn table that occupied the center of the large central chamber and waited until Honoria had poured him a tankard of wine before he spoke.

  “Where is Livie, Mistress? It’s vitally important that I speak with her.”

  Honoria sat opposite Magnes and folded her graceful, long-fingered hands on the table in front of her. She fixed Magnes with a sad, knowing look that immediately filled him with foreboding. “There’s no easy way of saying this, milord, so I’m just going to say it. Livie’s gone. She’s in Greenwood now, where her sister and her family live. She’s got her own shop there, started up just about one month ago. I’ve heard tell that folk are already placing so many orders, she’ll need an assistant before too long.”

  “Then I’ll ride to Greenwood tomorrow to see her. She has to know why I left so suddenly without telling her. She must think I abandoned her, but that’s not true! I would never do that, Mistress. I know you know how I feel about Livie. I never tried to hide it from you. I love her, and she loves me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted is for us to be together.”

  Honoria shook her head sadly. For a moment, she seemed too overcome to speak.

  Magnes rose from his chair in alarm. “What is it? Please tell me what’s wrong!” he cried.

  “Oh, Lord Magnes! You can’t go to Greenwood to see Livie now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s a married woman!”

  Magnes sat down, hard, like a puppet whose strings have just been cut. He stared straight ahead, unblinking, his jaw working as if words were trying to push their way out of his mouth but were unable to breach the barrier of his teeth.

  Finally, he managed to speak. “Tell me everything,” he whispered.

  “She met him when she was visiting her sister, around the time you disappeared. His name is Jonus, and he owns his own land…a fine, large parcel. He’s a good, kind man, and he loves her. Oh, Lord Magnes! What was she to do? She had no hope with you, none at all, and we all know that’s the truth. You are the future duke! Your father would never consent to a marriage between my daughter and his Heir. When she found out that you’d gone off without a word to her, she cried for days. Her father and I were frantic. We feared she’d kill herself!”

  “I couldn’t get word to her. There was no time,” Magnes murmured.

  “Then, one day, Jonus showed up at our door, asking to speak to us about a proposal. He’d come all the way from Greenwood to make his case for our Livie. Well, we told him honestly that we didn’t think she was ready to marry, but Livie came out, dry-eyed and steady, and listened while he told her all of the reasons why he would make her a good husband.”

  Magnes could not bear to look into Honoria’s eyes. “And she said yes.”

  “Lord Magnes, Livie is eighteen years old. She needs to get started on a family of her own. She had a good man willing to make her an offer, a man who was right there and able to marry her. What could you have offered my daughter? Certainly not marriage!”

  Magnes laid his head down on his hands. Mistress Honoria’s words felt like knives cutting into his flesh, but what made the pain so much worse was the truth of those words. He could see now, with such brutal clarity, the selfishness of his assumption that Livie would always remain willing to accept whatever crumbs of his life he could throw her, never demanding any more of him. How could he have been so cruel, so uncaring, so completely oblivious to the realities of what she needed?

  Livie deserved a man who could love her and be a husband to her, a man who could give her legitimate children and help her build a secure life for their family.

  The time had come to let Livie go.

  He sat up and wiped his streaming eyes.


  “The truth is often something that we don’t want to hear, yet we need to hear it, nonetheless,” he said.

  Honoria nodded and patted his hand. “Jonus is a good man. He’ll cherish our Livie, I promise you.”

  “I know he will because you have said it, Mistress Honoria.”

  Magnes tossed off the tankard in one gulp and rose to leave. Honoria saw him out to the gate and waited while he mounted up. The two hounds sat quietly at her feet, watching mournfully, as if they could sense the great sadness that hung in the air.

  “Farewell, Mistress. Give my regards to the warden,” Magnes said.

  “Gods bless you, milord,” Honoria replied.

  Magnes turned the mare’s head and urged her into a trot towards the road.

  He did not look back.

  Chapter 22

  The Price Of Love

  When Magnes returned to Amsara late that afternoon, he headed straight up to his rooms and locked himself in. The servant Conrad knocked shortly after nightfall. When Magnes opened the door, he gasped in dismay and said, “Young Master, what’re ye doin’ standin’ here in the dark for?”

  Magnes shrugged listlessly in response.

  “Well, can I at least come in an’ light a lamp or two?”

  Magnes shook his head. “Just bring me a couple of flagons of wine…The Rhandon should do. It’s good and strong.”

  Conrad’s eyes flashed with worry. “Yes, sir. Straightaway,” he said and left to do as he was bid. Magnes waited in the dark, slumped in a chair, eyes tightly shut.

  The servant returned quickly with the wine, a tankard, and a small tray of cold meat and bread. Magnes took the wine and told the man to return the food to the kitchen. He closed the door in the bewildered Conrad’s face and returned to his chair by the open window.

  The moon hung low in the sky, a tiny sliver of silver, barely visible above the castle roofs. Magnes didn’t bother to fill the tankard and drank directly from the flagon instead. The wine, dark and strong, soon took hold, and the unbearable pain that gnawed at his insides quieted down to a dull ache. He drank up the first flagon quickly and then started on the second, sipping until he felt completely numb. After a time, he slept.

  The discomfort of a full bladder woke him several hours later. Staggering to the bedchamber, he groped beneath the bed until his fingers snagged the chamberpot. With a sigh, he relieved himself, then wobbled back into the outer chamber to retrieve the wine flagon. With almost no light to see by, virtually blind and still drunk, he blundered into the heavy armchair and crashed to the floor.

  Cursing softly, he hoisted himself back up into the chair and sat quietly for a moment until the pain of his cracked shin subsided. When he could breathe again, he groped for the unfinished flagon on the table to his right and managed to grasp it without knocking it over. He shook it gently, and the sloshing sound told him he had enough wine left to sustain his drunken state for the rest of the night. He raised the flagon to his lips and swallowed deeply, then passed out.

  He awoke the next morning with a vicious headache and no memory of having fallen asleep again. The empty wine flagon lay on the floor at his feet, a small red blotch staining the carpet beneath its lip.

  A soft knock at the door brought Magnes unsteadily to his feet. He swayed a little and sat back down as his stomach threatened to rebel. He breathed deeply for several heartbeats until the wave of nausea passed, then once again tried to stand. This time, he met with success and made it to the door without falling.

  “You look like hell!” Thessalina exclaimed. Magnes waved her in and closed the door. “Conrad was worried about you. He asked me to look in on you this morning, and I can see that he was right to worry.” She sat down in the window seat with her back to the morning sun. “Magnes, talk to me. All I know is what Father has told me, but I want to hear it from you. Is it true that you took Jelena to the Western Lands so that she could get away from Duke Sebastianus?”

  “It’s true,” Magnes answered. His tongue had grown fur overnight and seemed to be twice as thick as it ought.

  Thessalina shook her head incredulously. “But why would you risk so much for her? She was getting a very good deal. She wasn’t worth shaming Father and running out on your own obligations, Brother.”

  “Please, Thess. I…I’m just not up to this conversation right now. Leave me be.” He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

  Thessalina clicked her tongue in dismay. “You’re hung over. I’ve never…I’ve never even seen you drunk before! What’s going on, Magnes? I know you. This is notabout Jelena…Tell me what’s wrong with you!”

  Magnes sighed deeply. Like a terrier with a rat, Thessalina had him cornered, and she was not about to let him go until she had shaken every last detail out of him. “Livie’s gone,” he said. “She married a farmer from Greenwood. I’ve lost her for good.”

  “I’m so sorry, Brother,” Thessalina murmured. “I know you loved her.”

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “Gods, Thessalina! I don’t know. I can’t…no, I won’t marry that stupid creature Father has chosen for me. I’ll renounce all claims to the ducal coronet and take priestly vows before I let him force me into such an intolerable match.”

  “That’s foolishness, Magnes. You know you can’t just put aside your inheritance.”

  The alcoholic fog dampening Magnes’s brain suddenly burned away in the light of revelation. He abruptly sat up and leaned forward. “I can, and I will. I never wanted the position anyway.” He stared into his sister’s eyes, trying to gauge her reaction to his words. She seemed genuinely shocked. “Don’t pretend that you’re surprised, Sister. You and I both know that you should be Father’s Heir, not me. The only reason you aren’t is because you had the misfortune of being born second in a land where the firstborn inherits everything. Never mind talent or temperament! It’s only fitting that I should step aside. If I openly declare my intention to take priestly vows, Father can’t stop me. He’ll have to make you the Heir.”

  Thessalina stared, mouth agape in astonishment, unable to speak.

  “Where is Ghost?” Magnes abruptly asked. Thessalina blinked rapidly, and he could see her mind start to shift and turn. She now realized the implications of his words, and they pleased her.

  “Ghost… Where is he?” Magnes repeated.

  Thessalina refocused. “He was an old dog. He died while you were gone. Don’t worry. I saw to it that he got a decent burial. I had him put under the old chestnut tree in the back garden—the one we used to climb as children.”

  Magnes closed his eyes again and leaned back into his chair. He resolved to go say goodbye to Ghost, just as soon as he could stand without retching.

  “Would you have someone bring me some willow bark tea, please,” he whispered, massaging his temple in a vain attempt to stop the hammer blows inside his skull.

  “I’d think long and hard about all of this, Brother,” Thessalina suggested, but Magnes thought he detected an undercurrent of eagerness in her voice. He could not fault his sister for her ambition. They both wanted the same thing.

  He felt, rather than saw, Thessalina leave the room. A strange lassitude gripped him, and he allowed it to carry him under. He stirred long enough to notice that a steaming mug of willow bark tea had appeared as if by magic on the table by his right hand. He drank it slowly, thankful that someone had thought to sweeten it. When he finished, he heaved himself up out of the chair, made his way to the bedchamber, and collapsed across the quilt, surrendering to sleep.

  ~~~

  Duke Teodorus’s ice-chip eyes narrowed when Magnes entered the study. The duke sat at his desk, a small oil lamp illuminating the stack of reports before him. Outside, the castle bell chimed out the hour of Nonis, the last before midnight.

  “Details, so many details,” the duke muttered. He picked up a large piece of vellum affixed with an ornate seal and waved it at Magnes. “Y’
see this? Came today from the capital, signed by Empress Constantia’s own hand. It says I’m to prepare and send a report with all speed detailing the strength and readiness of my forces. Bah! We’re not anywhere close to being ready for a war, but it seems that the empress is growing impatient. She wants the armies of the Imperium to be ready to march against the elves in fourteen months time—less, if possible! Wishful thinking, I say. Lucky for us, though, you’ve seen the inside of that elf castle. I’ve no doubt the empress’ll want me to secure it early on, since Amsara lies so close.”

  “Father, there are things I need to discuss with you,” Magnes said quietly.

  “And I with you, Son. I have written to Leonus to tell him that our contract can go ahead as planned. With the gods’ luck and a little good timing, you should have Leonus’s daughter wedded, bedded, and pregnant by fall’s end.”

  “That is what I need to talk about, Father. I don’t want to marry that girl.”

  “What you want doesn’t matter,” the duke sniffed. “You’ll do as you’re told. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

  Magnes pulled his hair in frustration. He could feel the pressure building within him, threatening to boil over in an explosion of fury. “Father, listen to me!” he cried. “I will notmarry Duke Leonus’s daughter!”

  “I strongly advise you notto defy me,” the duke growled dangerously.

  The dam within him burst and swept Magnes along on the crest of the wave. “I will abdicate my position and take priestly vows if you insist on this marriage! We all know Thessalina should be your Heir, anyway. Give it to her, Father. It’s what we both want. Set me free, I beg of you!” he cried.

  Without warning, the duke rose from his chair and rushed Magnes, pinning him against the wall by the fireplace. Magnes gasped in surprise, alarmed at how easily his father could hold him. “Please, Father,” he croaked.

  “Shut up!I know what this is all about. Don’t think I don’t know about you and my game warden’s daughter. Who d’you think had the little whore packed off to Greenwood in the first place, eh?”