“I do be almost twenty one, my lord”
“Hmm” said Gyrfalon. “Very well let us be on our way; here is Sir Lyall with your pack that we need delay no longer,” and he strode forward as though nothing had occurred.
“Lukat can’t go at your pace, my lord,” chid Annis.
Gyrfalon sighed, stopped, read what she expected in her smoke-blue eyes and swept up the child in his arms.
“Don’t get used to this,” he said.
“Oh my lord! It do shame me that you have to carry me! You do be such a wonderful warrior, I wish my foot was not twisted that I might learn to be your man!” said the boy worshipfully; for he knew not who Gyrfalon might be, only that he and his lady had rescued his mother and him.
Gyrfalon laughed.
“Well we shall see what Annis and her salves may do,” he said as they entered the castle. “There; off you go and find your grandsire, Lady Annis will see you later.”
Falk looked at Sir Lyall, taken aback; then said,
“He let me think he had killed you for one that attacked him.”
“He rebuked me,” said Lyall “I am to report to you for my negligence. My first meeting with the warlord Gyrfalon is most confusing, my lord. Have he care of his own peasants, think you, regardless of what he do to others?”
“Methinks he plays some deep game,” said Falk darkly.
Chapter 11
Annis cast herself into Gyrfalon’s arms on their return to the castle and he kissed her roughly.
“At least we get rid of some of the besiegers,” she said. “If only your brother had the sense he were born with we might have been left in peace.”
“My brother will never be at peace until he has killed me,” said Gyrfalon. “There is no other way about it; he and I hate each other too much.”
“Pardon the interruption,” said Father Michael, “but is not hate next door to love? It is loathing and despising that are its opposite.”
Gyrfalon gave a harsh laugh.
“Oh you are quite right, priest; once Falk and I loved each other as brothers should; until he deceitfully stole my betrothed while I was away doing my duty; and when I drew sword on him for his deceit, the silly wench got in the way and she died instead. And that is what lies between us; a faithless woman who encouraged my idiot brother not to tell me that he had feelings for her; and who then destroyed all the rest of our brotherly love by sacrificing herself. There’s a bit more; but that is the gist. There was wrong on both sides; but for Falk it was all my fault. And that was his mother’s fault; my stepmother always insisted that anything I had that my brother wanted, it were to be given to him. I suppose he thought my betrothed might also be ordered thus. Only I have got over her and am happy with Annis; and he still suffers.”
“Then, my lord, you might pity him for his unquiet spirit,” said Father Michael “And pr – hope,” he amended as Gyrfalon started scowling, “that some day you might be reconciled. He is spoken of as a good man who does his utmost; and he meant well at the parley, though he were plainly entirely missing the byplay betwixt yourself and Lady Annis for the blindness of his despite.”
Gyrfalon stared; then roared with laughter.
“And you a celibate priest picked it up? Why, priest, I do believe that I do not dislike you as much as most; you are no fool. Is reconciliation possible? I know not; but I doubt it. Annis, I suppose you’ll be seeing to that young fellow’s foot; the tears were of pain, methinks, and anger, not fear.”
“He does seem a brave lad,” said Annis, interpreting Gyrfalon’s words.
Lukat was with his grandfather’s family; and his grandfather was Bullard the reeve.
Annis examined the foot.
“He were born scrog footed,” volunteered Loveday.
“How much do you want it to be straight, Lukat?” asked Annis.
“More’n anything, Lady,” said the boy.
“Even if it hurt you cruelly?”
He nodded.
“It hurt anyway; if it hurt more but I walk straight it be worth it,” said the boy.
“Very well; I’ll make up an oil to rub it with and pull it straight,” said Annis, “and I’ll have the tanner see an he might make a heavy sheath for it to hold it straight; that you must then exercise despite the pain to strengthen it. Will you be prepared to do that? It will be held thus” and she pulled the foot towards straightness. The boy winced, but nodded.
“I will,” he said. “And will then My Lord teach me to fight like him?”
“What, a glutton for more pain?” said Annis “I have been learning from my lord; and you will get bruises in places you know not that you have places. You can practice for that however as your foot strengthens by weight training to improve the muscles in your arms.”
He nodded eagerly.
If Gyrfalon would not train him, Annis determined that she would.
Meanwhile she had a gift for the warlord; and took it to his chamber.
“My lord; I have been sewing on this; it will make a good betrothal gift,” she said.
He held up the robe, marvelling at her skills he knew nothing of.
“Annis! I – I do not know what to say….. it is very fine!” he said. “Where did you get the fabrics?”
She laughed.
“Why, my lord, do you not recall that I asked about the chests of clothes the previous lord – several previous lords as I guess – had left and you said I might do as I pleased with them? This is what I pleased. There are other fur coverlets but as I shall not sleep cold and alone those I shall also make into clothing. You do like it?”
“It is the best gift – bar your love and your healing – I have ever been given,” he said.
“Try it on,” she said “And then I shall have the pleasure of taking it off you.”
He laughed and complied; and started at his reflection in the mirror that he had not had taken out.
“I look rather fine,” he said.
“You look magnificent,” she said. “And now, my lord, methinks it be time to disrobe…..”
There was very little further conversation after that.
Much later he said,
“I have nothing to give you as a betrothal gift.”
She laughed.
“When you give me freedom, and teach me so much? Say not so my lord! You use your skill in passing on warcraft; and I use my skill with a needle to dress you. A fair exchange, surely?”
“You give me so much; and you are mine!” He said savagely; and started kissing her again.
They loved far into the night and rose tired but yet refreshed.
Meanwhile Peter Haldane prepared to depart; but found that some of his troops elected to stay, swayed by Falk’s speech that such was their duty to Lady Annis. Truly they believed that it was her need for aid that must hold them; and they threw in their lot with Falk. Falk’s own army had started small but all who felt that there might be a chance to destroy Gyrfalon had joined him. Seizing a rich castle and looting it may have played a part in the motives of at least some of them; as Falk well knew, and deplored, but sighed and accepted. The siege remained.
Marfey had departed once it became clear that Falk planned to hang him as soon as he had proof of the man’s perfidies; to which end he had sent a small party to find out. Marfey knew that Falk would find his evidence and much as he failed to understand why a fellow nobleman should make such a fuss about a few peasant brats he knew Falk’s implacable reputation and fled, to barricade himself into his own castle.
That Falk had hanged the remainder of those who had attempted to rape the woman Loveday had helped convince him.
Annis sighed that the siege remained; and spoke to Father Michael of banns.
The little priest was still a little dubious; though Annis at least had the permission of her father, that meant no man might blame the priest, only his own conscience.
“You love him truly daughter, and are not swayed by the physical attraction that so magnetic a man must n
eeds exert?” he asked anxiously.
Annis chuckled.
“Why I shall tell him you asked that,” she said, “for he was convinced that the scarred face I have been treating render him too hideous to attract a woman’s regard! Aye, Father, I love him; faults and all. I should love him for the joy of friendship with him , were our relationship celibate. Though the physical do sway me too,” she blushed.
“And so it should within marriage,” said Father Michael. “I understand that the impediment be that he is excommunicate?”
“By which Pope?” asked Annis.
Since religious upheaval and corruption had left a sufficiency of factions to raise two credible and one disreputable popes, the argument was cogent; and Father Michael shrugged and read the banns accordingly.
And Annis continued to treat Lukat who ran about painfully but straight in his cuirboilli sheath that the armourer had declared was his job, not the tanner’s; all men vying to please Annis. He strengthened his little arms assiduously too and managed to get himself under foot to try to help disarm Gyrfalon when he came off the walls.
“What, thou whelp, dost think art a page at thine age?” roared Gyrfalon, half amused, half irritated.
“I would be if you would have me, lord!” Lukat said, standing up to him.
“Hah! Art too small and fubsy as yet; shalt be page to Lady Annis and run her errands!” said Gyrfalon “And if you do well in a year or two shalt then be my page, importunate brat!”
“Thank you my lord!” said Lukat.
“Brat, hast none told thee that shouldst be afraid of the evil warlord Gyrfalon and stay out of his way?” demanded Gyrfalon.
“Oh yes my lord, any amount of people, but I ignored them,” said Lukat.
“You – Hah ! He ignored them forsooth! Hast more balls than half my company, little whelp; and more balls for bearing pain in good cheer too,” he added. “Very well; hast talked thy way into being my page; and shalt take the odd blow from me if you fail me in any matter, and harsh words many. I am not a douce man.”
“No lord; but a douce man were not perhaps so good a warlord,” said Lukat.
Gyrfalon laughed and ruffled his hair; and proceeded to mostly ignore the boy save to throw out rough words of instruction from time to time. But he let him be around him and help with simple tasks.
“My lord, you are right indulgent to my grandson” said Reeve Bullard.
“Indulgent? No Bullard, I am intolerant at the brat,” said Gyrfalon, “and push him hard. He is a good lad. Methinks one day he will do well.”
“Th-thank you my lord,” said Bullard who knew indulgence when he saw it but also know better than to contradict Gyrfalon.
The boy Lukat reminded Gyrfalon much of his little brother Falk at the same age; determined despite physical frailness to do all his elder brother did; and of this he spoke to none, even Annis.
She, he suspected, had guessed well enough.
Annis had guessed; and thought it good for her love to take an interest in a lad under his training as well as in her. He continued to push her hard; and one of the most avid spectators was Lukat who cheered them both impartially and learned almost as much by watching as by the relatively gentle bouts Gyrfalon indulged him with two or three times.
At times Annis felt almost guilty of her own happiness as she spent the days ordering the castle, working out, and sewing in Gyrfalon’s chamber in the evening discussing many matters, though mostly warcraft and the problem of the northern barbarians. And then there were the lengthening nights spent in happy surrender in her lover’s arms.
And yet nothing much happened between the two sides; and within the good harvest provided well enough for all, even being careful to eke out the supplies. If tempers were shorter than usual for the confinement, at least none suffered much from Gyrfalon’s uncertain temper that appeared to have healed – unsurprisingly – with his face. Indeed he too seemed to be enjoying himself stalking around in the gown she had sewn, taking a quite boyish delight in instructing Annis in the finer points of siege-craft and military architecture, delighting in her eager interest and intelligent questions. That Lukat often trotted at their heels, with less and less pain to his gait did the lad no harm either; and when he asked questions Gyrfalon cuffed him, but answered them.
Foregrim nodded sagely and expressed the opinion to any who would listen that my lord found as much of the son in my lady as would-be bride. Those who had known the ill-fated Buto agreed. Their lord had given a love not returned to the sullen boy, he had adopted and who never had the interest or ability to learn that Annis had. Unbeknownst to her, she became the soldiers’ darling, a mascot, and not just for the healing she gave freely. Her influence on Gyrfalon was welcome; and her presence was felt throughout the whole castle, for her disapproval was accounted to be a great shame on a man and efforts were made to please her. There was even an increase in attendance at Mass by those who had abandoned the church or had never known it; for if Lady Annis worshipped there was felt to be some value in it. Annis smiled approval on the new converts; and put it down to Michael’s excellent, down to earth – and brief – sermons. Certainly the priest’s practical approach did much to hold the attention of the soldiers who came!
Lukat’s attempts to be useful too amused the men; and that he was indulged by Gyrfalon and Annis led to the club-footed lad being treated with more gentleness than he might have otherwise been, sent about his business by kindly word rather than harsh language and a blow. And his brave striving to be a warrior despite his foot won the child some grudging respect; even as it earned Gyrfalon’s respect too. And Loveday was but relieved that her son not be a butt for cruel jests as he had been by many in their old village. And when Gyrfalon demanded to know why one of his troops had beaten a villager into unconsciousness that was a matter brought before him, the man replied,
“He never stopped taunting your page, my lord, as would scorn to complain; and I lost my temper.”
Gyrfalon nodded.
“Learn to control your temper; no further action”.
Still dragged the siege; and the first bright, sharp frost lay on the ground on the day before that designated for the wedding. Annis thought brief pity for those encamped around, especially those near the marsh with its attendant chills and fevers. A mild autumn and early winter had failed to kill all the midges and mosquitoes that carried the disease; though that was unknown to any healer, Annis among them. But even though she pitied those without, it was their choice to be there; and nothing could destroy her happiness in being about to be joined irrevocably to Gyrfalon at a time when she suspected and hoped that she might be in a position to please him yet further with news that he would be bound to welcome.
Annis awoke on the dawn of her wedding day with the hollow-excited feeling in the pit of her stomach; and, being cold, she reached for Gyrfalon. She came fully awake on not feeling him in remembrance that she had spent her last unwed night in her own little turret room by way of preparation; and as sleep eluded her now she got resolutely up in the chill autumnal dawn.
Fog lay across the castle in a chill grey blanket that showed little intention of lifting before the sun’s face. Annis pulled a face; then shrugged. The weather was immaterial on her wedding day! She pulled on an ordinary homespun woollen gown to break her fast in and ran lightly to the battlements first, with her heavy cloak pulled securely around her. She knew that Gyrfalon customarily prowled round in the fog and rain, encouraging his men and urging them to greater vigilance. She found him peering into the sea of shifting greys, helmet discarded for better vision and hearing; his sharp eyes picking out glimpses of the enemy as the misty droplets shifted in the light wind before being repulsed by more tendrils of fog seeping up from the marsh. He extended his own cloak around Annis’ slight figure for a double layer and she wrinkled up her nose.
“Wet wool and rust” she commented “You are lumpy and smelly to cuddle inside armour, dear one.”
“I am also cautious to a
fault that I not be a corpse; that would make you a very fine bedfellow, my dear!” he retorted.
She sighed contentedly and laid her head against his chest.
“I wish the idiots would go away” she said “Then it would be just perfect. Why must they insist on wanting to rescue me?”
“Perfect? Smells and all and in November?” He teased “Ah, Annis, now I do know that you do love me, smelly armour and all! But,” he added seriously, “it is not really about rescuing you; save for a few idealists. It is me they want; me they want to destroy.”
“I suppose I realised that; or for your safety, and that of our men I might have suggested giving myself up into the protection of Falk – who would not, methinks, try to treat me with anything but his clumsy courtesy – for better peace, that I might subsequently slip back to join you. But methinks it were for nothing; so I shall not consider it.”
“You are a good pragmatist, my dear,” said Gyrfalon “Not letting Christian virtue and self sacrifice – that were a worse sacrifice to me than dying at my brother’s hand – stand in the way of realism and common sense. It would not break the siege; it would but break my heart.”
She slid her arms around him.
“I will never leave you willingly my dear lord,” she said. “I am yours. They cannot take that away from us.”
“Aye” the sardonic lines on his face sneered into the fog at the unseen besiegers. “Let them come; I care naught for any of them.”
Annis held him closer.
“I wish they hated you not,” she said.
He laughed nastily.
“Oh, do not waste sympathy on me,” he said “I have been at loggerheads with the church and with Falk so long I could not care less.”
“I care,” said Annis; but she said it inaudibly into her lover’s chest.
Some hours later Annis had changed into her best, deep blue, gown ready for the ceremony; and met with the reeve Bullard, who had agreed to give her away in lieu of her father. Lukat pranced as well as he might in the clothes of a young lordling Annis had found in the chest for he was to be her page and he was tremendously proud of the long tunic of fine white wool embroidered in blue and scarlet thread about neck and hem that he wore over his own best breeches. Elissa had at first refused to be a bridesmaid, in tones of scorn; then rather sheepishly asked if she might change her mind. She wore one of Annis’ own gowns, the blue linsey-woolsey and Annis had threaded a filet of ribbon through the warrior’s short locks to decorate her head and Elissa had to admit she scarcely recognised herself; and fellow warriors who had been inclined to scoff at the idea of Elissa as a bridesmaid changed their minds and whistled instead. And Elissa found that she did know how to blush, though she thought she had forgotten!
Falconburg Divided (The Falconburg Series Book 1) Page 15
