Lara: Book One of the World of Hetar

by Bertrice Small

  Susanna almost dropped her packages. “How shall I ever make a gown for myself that will not shame your father?” she began to fret. “I know little of the mighty.”

  “I will help you,” Lara told her stepmother.

  “Perhaps we should return to the feather merchant tomorrow, and obtain that white plume for my hair,” Susanna responded.

  Lara swallowed her laughter. “I think perhaps a little less ostentation, stepmother, would serve you best. You must appear an elegant and proper young matron.”

  “It is true,” Susanna worried aloud. “My appearance will be judged as well as your father’s, and yours.”

  “Exactly!” Lara said. “So if you appear in too much finery it makes you look gauche and overproud. It would not, I suspect, sit well with the women whose husbands and fathers are Crusader Knights. Modest but fashionable is what you must be.”

  When they returned to the hovel they found Mistress Mildred with a very hungry Mikhail. Susanna immediately put her son to her bosom, realizing as she did so that her breasts were quite full. Their old neighbor was filled with curiosity, and Lara assuaged it by unwrapping the beautiful brocade, the silk and the velvet for her to see. Mistress Mildred touched the fabrics reverently and nodded. Satisfied, she told Susanna that Mikhail was a very good child, and she would stay with him whenever needed in these next busy months. Susanna thanked her, and Mistress Mildred went home to her own hovel, where her son would be expecting his dinner.

  John Swiftsword returned home after sunset to find his own dinner awaiting him on the hearth. He told them of his search this day for a good warhorse with the help of an old Crusader Knight, to whom he had been introduced by Rafe the armorer. “We may have found one out at a Midlands farm today. He’s four years old, and has had a good year of combat training,” John said excitedly. “I rode him for a time, and we seemed to become friends. Sir Ferris says a man must feel kinship with his beast. We will go back tomorrow, and arrange to buy Aristaeus.” He was very happy, happier than he had ever been in all his life. “What did you two do today?” he asked them.

  “We went to find the perfect material for your garments,” Susanna said. “I do not know what I would have done without Lara. Her taste is frankly better than mine, and she signed all the receipts, thus saving me the embarrassment of admitting I cannot read or write. We found the perfect feather for the cap we will make you. Lara visited Gaius Prospero, and then we came home,” Susanna concluded.

  John Swiftsword turned to his daughter. “You went to Gaius Prospero? Why?” He was still troubled by what he had done, but Lara, it seemed, was not in the least unhappy at the future ahead of her.

  “I wanted to know if I might go to the tourney to see you win, Da. And I wanted to know if Susanna could speak to me of men and women. He is my master now, Da. I believed I needed his permission. He seemed well pleased that I came to ask him.”

  John nodded. “You were right to go to Gaius Prospero,” he said slowly.

  “He says I am to have a beautiful gown, and that he will send two litters that day. Susanna, Mikhail and I are to sit in his private box at the tourney, Da. Tomorrow Susanna and I will begin the process of fashioning your application garments. You will wear the most glorious brocade, Da!” Lara told him.

  He could not bear it. His beautiful golden child would shortly be gone from him, and he did not know if he would ever see her again.

  “Go to bed now, Lara,” Susanna said softly, and the girl arose, kissing them both, and disappeared into the tiny chamber she shared with her baby brother. “She is content, John,” Susanna said to her husband. “She looks forward to her future.”

  “She has no idea of what awaits her,” he groaned. “She is so innocent. Her whole life she has lived here in the Quarter, rarely venturing out until now. How can she envision a future she cannot possibly understand?”

  Susanna sighed. “You underestimate Lara, John. Your mother taught her a great deal more than how to keep a house and sew. You should have seen her today. I should have had little success without her. I was frankly intimidated by those with whom I was forced to traffic. Not Lara. She has the bearings of a young queen. The mercers actually deferred to her. She has a certain assured quality about her they recognized even as they recognized my hesitancy.

  “And she treated me with such great and public respect, husband, suggesting I wait in the fresh air while she concluded our transactions. And knowing with the certain instinct that she has suddenly displayed that she should go to Gaius Prospero. And she wasn’t one bit frightened. When I first took her to him I was terrified, but not your daughter. And not today. Nay, John, Lara knows precisely what she is doing, and you need feel no guilt in having sold her so you might have your chance. She has no regrets.”

  “What will you tell her of men and women?” he asked his wife.

  Susanna laughed. “Now, husband, sooner or later this conversation between your daughter and me would have had to be voiced. I know what to say. She will know what she needs to know, and learn the rest as her life moves forward. Now tell me about this Sir Ferris you met today.”

  “Sir Ferris Ironshield,” John began, “is one of the oldest and most respected of the Crusader Knights. He is sixty, wife, and still active. He is a client of the armorer’s, and Rafe asked him if he would be interested in helping me. We met today outside the City on the road to a Midlands horse farm, but before he would take me on he said he had to test my mettle with the sword for which I have earned my fame. He warned me not to hold back, but to fight my best. He’s the finest opponent I have come up against in years, but I beat him, Susanna. He laughed and said my reputation was justly come by, and he would be happy to sponsor me, for it seems I must have a sponsor’s name upon the application. I have so much to learn, wife!”

  “And you will,” she encouraged him. “So you found your horse?”

  “Aye. And while I am good with a sword and a spear, my skills with the axe and the mace need work. Sir Ferris says we will work on them over the next few months.”

  “Then all is as it should be now, husband,” Susanna replied.

  It was autumn and as the days lengthened Lara and her stepmother began the process of creating and sewing the garments that John Swiftsword would wear on the day of the applications for entrance to the rank of tournament goers. Lara carefully cut her father’s tunic out from the beautiful silver brocade they had purchased. Then she cut the trunk hose from the sky blue silk. Only then did they begin the sewing. Susanna carefully stitched together the hose, taking her time, and working hard to make her stitches as fine as Lara’s. An impossibility, she decided, but she tried anyway. Little Mikhail sat on the floor of the hovel playing with pieces of discarded material, and quite content to do so. He was his father’s son in all ways.

  Lara had returned to the old mercer’s shop twice to purchase other materials as she considered how she would decorate her father’s tunic. She had also found a lovely lilac cloth for Susanna’s gown, which she would make only after the tunic was done. She had designed the tunic with a round neckline. Around it she sewed a wide band of cloth of silver she had embroidered with gold, silver and dark blue threads. She then added tiny gold and silver beads. The small straight opening in the neckline gave way to a short stretch of the same embroidery down the front of the tunic. The garment was slit on either side and the slits, as well as the hem of the tunic, were decorated with identical embroidery, which also curled about the cuffs of the full sleeves. Lara also made a wide embroidered belt to hang low on the garment. It was a labor of love that took weeks to accomplish. While she toiled over the tunic, Susanna made her husband’s trunk hose, and the velvet cap with the hawk’s feather he would wear. She had also gone to the cobbler and had a pair of soft leather shoes with turned-back cuffs made along with a pair of fine leather boots for her husband. Lara took the shoes and embroidered their cuffs to match her father’s tunic.

  And then to their surprise, one day Sir Ferris Ironshield arrive
d at the door of their hovel. “I have come to inspect the application garments,” he said in his gruff voice.

  “My husband is not here,” Susanna said nervously.

  “Of course he isn’t!” Sir Ferris growled. “He is on the practice field where I left him with Sir Ajax and Sir Iven. He has improved tremendously under our tutelage, mistress. I have no doubt that in a few weeks he will be one of us.”

  “Come in, sir,” Lara beckoned, giving her stepmother a moment to recover. “I will fetch Da’s garments, which we have completed only yesterday.”

  “Yes,” Susanna finally found her tongue. “May I offer you a bit of cider, Sir Ferris, while Lara brings my husband’s clothing?” She ushered him to the bench by the fire. “Sit down, please.” She bustled to pour the cider into her best wooden cup, and handed it to him quickly.

  He drank it appreciatively. “It has been a long time since I have visited the Quarter,” he noted. “Nothing here seems to change, I fear. It is still a poor place, and I hear the Mercenary’s Guild is now taking a fee from its men to provide them with work. Shameful, but what can you expect with so much of their custom going to nonmembers?”

  “I did not know,” Susanna said softly.

  “Nay, I expect your man would keep it from you. Well, not to fret, mistress. You’ll soon be ensconced in the Garden District where you belong.”

  “Here are my da’s garments, sir,” Lara said as she brought forth the tunic, and held it out for him to see. “The trunk hose are sky-blue silk, and my stepmother will fetch his cap that you may see it.”

  Sir Ferris carefully looked over everything they displayed to his view. The tunic was quite magnificent, and the shoe cuffs were a nice touch. The application officers would be very impressed. Without a doubt it was the garment of a Crusader Knight. When he saw the velvet cap Susanna showed him, he nodded with a pleased smile. “Excellent, mistress. And you have been wise enough to avoid those damned white plumes almost every applicant feels he needs to put in his cap. The hawk’s feather is elegant, and most manly. John Swiftsword would stand out with just the cap alone.” He stood up. “You have done well, and I am content that with a good performance on the field John Swiftsword will soon become a Crusader Knight. I thank you for the cider.” Then with a stiff little bow to them both, he departed the hovel.

  “Imagine,” Susanna finally managed to say, “he came to us. He must really like your father and think well of him. I am so proud. When we are settled in our new home I shall ask him and his two friends to dine with us.”

  “I must begin your gown tomorrow,” Lara said.

  “You would not show me the material you obtained,” Susanna complained. “Will you show it to me now?”

  Lara laughed. “Very well, but you must swear you will trust me to make the gown for you.”

  “I am in your hands,” Susanna chuckled. “Now show me the fabric!”

  Lara went to the chest on the far side of the room and lifted out a carefully wrapped packet. Bringing it to the table she undid it, and Susanna gasped.

  “It’s too beautiful,” she cried. “I am not worthy of such loveliness!”

  “It is perfect,” Lara said. “I have planned a simple design, for a more elaborate garment would not be suitable for an applicant’s wife.”

  “But the fabric itself…” Susanna held it up and against her. The lilac silk had a shimmering and iridescent quality to it. It was quite unique.

  “The fabric,” Lara told her stepmother, “is perfect with your dark brown hair and eyes. And your skin has a lovely rosy glow to it. When I saw it I knew it was for you.”

  Susanna began to cry, and Lara snatched the material from her lest her tears stain the fabric. “I wish you didn’t have to leave us,” she said, and thought for the first time that she actually meant it.

  “My fate isn’t with you and Da,” Lara replied. “I do not know where it will be, but I know it isn’t with you. Perhaps that is my faerie blood speaking.”

  And then the winter was over and Lara celebrated her fifteenth birthday with the spring. The day of the applications was upon them. Her father had risen early, and Susanna with him. He had bathed himself completely in the wooden tub, not just his body, but his hair as well. Susanna had shaved his handsome face smooth, being careful not to nick and bloody her husband. She called for Lara to come and put the tunic on her father when he was garbed in his sky-blue trunk hose, and the dark blue shirt whose sleeves would show from beneath the tunic.

  Together Lara and Susanna drew the tunic over John’s head. The garment fell, and Lara carefully closed the little silver frogs at the neckline. She stood back and smiled, pleased. “Da, you have never looked so grand. Sir Ferris told us that these are the garments of a Crusader Knight, and he was surely right.” Fastening the embroidered belt about the tunic, she knelt and fitted the soft leather shoes to her father’s feet.

  Susanna handed her husband his velvet cap. He placed it on his head, drawing it to one side, and the hawk’s feather jutted jauntily. He strutted about the hovel proudly, and then turning to his wife and daughter he said, “Thank you.”

  Lara went to the door of the hovel and unbarred it.

  “Go now,” Susanna said. “When you return I will have a meal for you.”

  He strode from the dwelling, and when he was out of sight Susanna turned to speak to her stepdaughter, but Lara was nowhere to be found. Susanna chuckled. Her stepdaughter, she had not a doubt, had followed her father that she might stand in the crowd in the City’s main square and watch John Swiftsword as he made his application to the tournament of the Crusader Knights, and was formally and publicly accepted. She was entitled to this little triumph, Susanna thought generously, for it was Lara’s sacrifice that had made this all possible.

  Lara had snatched up a dark cloak so that she might remain anonymous as she hurried through the streets. Already the citizens were gathering to witness this rare event. Reaching the square she pushed herself to the front of the crowds, but no one seemed to mind. Her slender form was no more than a breeze as it brushed by them all. She saw her father standing in the long line that already stretched halfway across the square. Listening, she heard comments of the onlookers. They seemed to know most of the applicants either by name or by reputation.

  John Swiftsword felt his heart pumping with excitement. Looking about him he decided that he was the best dressed of all the applicants, and he smiled at the prevalence of white plumes. Susanna had told him the story of shopping at the feather merchant’s, and Sir Ferris’s comment when he had visited the hovel. He tried to calm himself for the interview ahead. He didn’t want to sound like a bumbling idiot. It wasn’t just the honor of belonging to this order that thrilled him, it was the opportunity to truly serve Hetar.

  The Crusader Knights were retained by the High Council as a deterrent against savages and chaos. They had always been, and they would always be. While there had been no great wars in many years, and Hetar was a peaceful kingdom, only the presence of the Crusader Knights protected Hetar from those in the Outlands. The Outlanders were barbarians with no rule of law, and he often wondered why the Celestial Actuary had created them at all.

  The sun rose over the square, and the chill of the spring morning was warmed by its rays. Then suddenly John Swiftsword found himself facing a Crusader Knight, and his attempt to step into a better world began.

  The knight behind the table looked him over very carefully. “Name?” he barked.

  “John Swiftsword of the Mercenary Guild.” Was his voice squeaking?

  The Crusader nodded and wrote it down. Then he said, “Turn about, please.”

  John swung around slowly.

  “Appearance, excellent,” the Crusader Knight said, and checked off a small box on the parchment application. “Place of origin?”

  “The Midlands.”

  “Father’s occupation?”

  “Farmer.”

  “How long a mercenary?”

  “Since age fifteen.�
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  “Your age now?”

  “Thirty-one.”

  “Married?”

  “Yes.”

  “Children?”

  “Two.”

  “Have you sired sons or daughters?”

  “A son with my wife, and a daughter with a Faerie woman,” he replied.

  “And you desire more sons?”

  “Aye!”

  “Who is your sponsor, John Swiftsword?” the Crusader Knight asked.

  “Sir Ferris Ironshield,” he replied. His throat was getting dryer by the minute.

  “Any secondaries?”

  “Sir Ajax and Sir Iven.”

  “First battle skill?”

  “The sword,” was the proud reply.

  “Secondary skills?” the Crusader Knight demanded sharply.

  “Lance, mace and axe.” Was that sweat running down his back?

  “You are a talented soldier,” the Crusader Knight said with a small smile. “Your application is accepted by the tournament committee, John Swiftsword. What colors will you wear when you fight?”

  “Green and gold,” John said. Green for Lara’s eyes, and gold for her hair. He would honor his daughter in this fashion.

  The Crusader Knight marked it down on the application, and then wrote in large letters across the face of the parchment, ACCEPTED. “I shall look forward to seeing you on tournament day. You will draw a number now to determine the day upon which you will do battle.” He held out a velvet bag to the applicant.

  John plunged his hand into the bag and drew out a tile. He handed it to the Crusader Knight. “It says one,” he noted.

  “Then you fight on the first day. That is good. You will have time to rest up for the final battle. Congratulations! Step aside. Next!”

  He stepped away from the table half-dazed, and walked into the crowds pressing in about the square. Suddenly he felt a small hand slip into his, and he knew at once it was his daughter’s. “Were you able to see?” he asked, not even bothering to look at her.