The Christian & Brina Collection

by Judith Post

  Christian smiled, happy for her. "It appears as though your lands are flourishing."

  Aelio nodded. "Your beliefs are even more liberal than the ancient Greeks', but they work. Look. Our people prosper."

  Christian and Brom turned to watch peasants go to and from their daily tasks, then Christian stared more closely in surprise. "I see no men."

  Aelio studied the two of them. "There are many men who abuse women. Unlike you, they consider the weaker sex inferior. Our kingdom will serve as a place of safety for women of all ages and castes."

  "What will you do for an army?" Brom asked.

  Aelio motioned to women on horses, carrying swords and spears. "We'll use might and magic."

  Brom frowned, uncertain. "It might work, if you have enough magic."

  "More and more witches are coming to our lands," Wymare said. "They've heard magic's safe here."

  Christian looked at the many women working their gardens or sitting on their front stoops, working their spinning wheels. "There'll be no children here without men. How will the serfdom survive?"

  He barely spoke the words before a group of little girls ran toward them from the stables.

  Aelio put out her arms to welcome them, and they circled her, staring openly at her visitors. "There are more than enough children abandoned in the cities. No one wants them. No one protests when we offer them homes here."

  Christian nodded curtly. No child should be left to fend for him or herself. His thoughts returned to his wife and soon-to-be-born child. "Cook believes the next full moon will welcome our baby."

  Wymare sucked in a happy gulp of air. "Throw magic in the air to let us know. We'll come to see him."

  Christian shrugged. "A girl will do as well."

  Wymare gave a secret smile. "Yes, I know, but your firstborn will be a boy. I've seen it."

  "In a dream?" Christian didn't realize she had the gift of sight.

  "It seldom happens, but my visions have all come true." Wymare glanced at Aelio. "I knew I'd meet her someday, that I'd be hers."

  "But you constantly complained about your hair, your complexion…." Brom shook his head, confused.

  Wymare's smile grew wider. "I still do, but Aelio loves me anyway."

  "But you worried that no man would have you," Christian said, remembering.

  Wymare grew suddenly serious. "I thought my vision a curse. I couldn't believe I'd be happy, taking a female for a husband."

  Brom ran a hand through his straight, black hair. "I'll never understand women."

  "I don’t try." Christian was grateful when Aelio motioned for them to follow her into the fortress.

  The stone walls were festooned with tapestries now. Sturdy furniture filled the Great Hall. Flames blazed in the fireplaces, and candles danced in iron sconces. Oil lamps lit the hallways. A long table groaned under fruits and breads.

  Aelio followed his gaze. "We've made great improvements, haven't we?"

  "The castle was empty the last time we visited," Brom said.

  "No longer." Aelio led them to the small kitchen. A lamb hung from a spit over the flames. "I couldn't feed you the last time you came. This time, I'm prepared."

  Servants carried food to the trestle table, and they visited while they ate. By the time Christian and Brom were ready to leave, they were full of good will and good food.

  "Thank you for coming, neighbors." Aelio wrapped an arm around Wymare's waist to wave them off.

  "To health, peace, and prosperity," Christian called.

  He and Brom rode away. On the way home, they looked at each other and laughed.

  "To more happy surprises!" Brom said.

  "As long as they're happy…." Christian thought of the changes that had taken place so quickly after he'd discovered Brina. Would he undo any of them? No. Brom was right. These changes had been good. And maybe there would be more of them. It was too soon to tell.

  Training the Healer

  The Fifth Christian & Brina Novella

  A Lunch Hour Read

  by

  Judith Post

  Christian narrowed his eyes and studied the young woman at his castle's door. Lynet had called for him when a guard escorted the stranger to them. The rule was, no one entered his castle whom he didn't know. The girl, dressed in a long robe with the hood pulled up over her head, raised her chin. Good. He liked strong women, if they came as friends. Her robe was made of rough material, and Christian guessed her to be a serf from one of his villages. So, why was she here?

  "Who are you?" he asked. Hopefully not a witch sent to blast them. Not that she could.

  Lynet stood slightly behind him, in no hurry to leave.

  The girl's curiosity knew no bounds. Christian turned to shoo her away. "I'll see to our guest. You can go now."

  She grimaced. Since she'd started working in the kitchen with Cook, she'd managed to explore every nook and cranny of the castle. He should say something to her, or Cook should scold her, but Brina favored her and liked her company, so Christian took the girl's wanderings in his stride. Anything that made his wife happy made him happy, but enough was enough. When Lynet only walked a few steps away and still stayed to listen, he pointed toward the steps that led to the basement kitchen. "Go!"

  She scurried from sight, but probably not out of earshot.

  The woman at the door was pretty enough, with long dark hair and large, luminous eyes. Not nearly as fetching as his Brina, but definitely a head turner. His lips turned up at the thought of his wife. She was big with child now, seven months pregnant, and she'd never looked more beautiful.

  "Lady Enid requested I join her today for lunch," the girl said.

  "I see." Christian motioned her inside. "Lynet?" He didn't raise his voice. He knew she'd hear. She sauntered to him too quickly to have been far away. "Would you fetch my mother?"

  Was Mother playing match maker again? Christian tried to think who her poor victim might be. Brom was taken by his dragon lady. Thurstan and Jarman both had their witches. The livery man had a wench on the side….

  A voice behind him interrupted his thoughts. "There you are…. Christian, I want you to meet our guest. I've asked Daralys to stay with me a while. She'll join us at table for meals."

  He blinked, surprised. "You didn't consult me first?"

  Lady Enid curtsied. False deference, she was his equal and knew it. "My friend and I can dine in my rooms, if you wish."

  Like he'd let that happen. But his mother had purposefully kept this woman's visit a secret. It wasn't like her. Christian studied his mother cautiously. "I don't have any available bachelors that I know of."

  She laughed and placed a hand on his arm. "I'm not concerned about Daralys finding a husband."

  Her tone implied that matrimony was a given. What was his mother up to?

  "I brought her here to train her," Lady Enid explained.

  It was the first he'd heard of it. "Train her as what?"

  "A healer. I've gladly performed that duty for decades, but soon, the castle will be full of children again. Thurstan's wife is expecting, and so is Brom's dragon lady. You and Brina won't stop at just one." His mother's eyes gleamed with pleasure. "This time around, Cook and I want to enjoy the little ones without duty interfering."

  She had a point, but her answer was too glib. No, there was something more. Something she wasn't telling him. He raised an eyebrow. She ignored it.

  She did adore children. He knew how much she was looking forward to a grandchild. She'd doted on him when he was growing up, but was called away often to minister to someone who was ill. When the fever plague hit, she was called so often, she could barely function. When he'd taken ill and almost died, she refused to leave his bedside. She'd pumped so much healing energy into him that—combined with his father's mage bloodline—he could now call on fire at will.

  Christian sighed. This was a skirmish, and he wasn't going to win it. He might as well be gracious. "You're not going to make my castle into a nursery, are you?"


  Lady Enid smiled. She'd dodged him and knew it. "I might. You'd love that."

  He pursed his lips, considering. Damn it, he would. He'd never felt anything as wonderful as touching Brina's stomach and feeling a small foot kick. Brom and Thurstan were just as bad. As soon as Brina became pregnant, their wives followed. Jarman—his friend, the vampire—had teased him. "Did you magick the ale so that every man who drank from it got his wife with child?"

  He understood his mother's desire to enjoy this new crop of infants, but she was hiding something. She didn't keep secrets from him, but often tried to spare him from worry. That worried him more.

  Lady Enid stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Relax, my son. Training a healer takes time, but I've sensed this girl's magic since she was tiny. She's ready to blossom."

  Was that part of her motive? The girl's magic was ready? "You've probably drawn a chart for her." His mother studied the signs—the sun and planets, the birds and winds. Her smug look answered him. Of course, she had.

  Lady Enid patted his arm. "You can brood on it until your child is born. Then you'll be too busy to worry yourself."

  Little did she know. Christian always made time to fret about those he loved. But what could it hurt to have another healer in his serfdom? It would be a boon. He turned to the girl and smiled. "You're going to stay with us a while?"

  The smile encouraged her. She turned a questioning gaze to Lady Enid. "That's what your mother suggested."

  "Mother's always right." And she was, damn it. He'd feel better if he knew what she wasn't telling him. "May I say, you're especially well-spoken for a peasant?"

  A rosy blush burned the girl's cheeks. "Your mother taught me to read. She visited our home often."

  "Really?" Christian's gray eyes glittered with amusement. Maybe there was more to this story. "I take it Mother's been grooming you since you were a little girl?"

  Lady Enid answered. "I could feel her magic. She'll make a gifted healer."

  And what else? He wouldn't know until his mother chose to tell him. Why he even bothered to spar with her and the various witches in his serfdom, he didn't know. He rarely won. Secretly, he loved their strong wills and opinions, but he had to put on a show, or they'd be entirely too full of themselves. "And you think the time is right to train her now?"

  His mother's expression clouded, and worry, once again, niggled through his veins.

  "I know that look. Just tell me. You saw something, didn't you?" When she hesitated, he said, "It's worse for me when I have to guess."

  "The planets will soon be at cross-purposes. When I turned my Tarot, I saw dark times ahead."

  Now they were getting to the meat of the matter. "Brina?"

  "She and your child had good readings. So did Cook and several witches. Magic seems to protect us from whatever's coming." She leveled a gaze at him. "You'll weather this, too."

  She'd have looked at his cards first, he knew. In his mother's eyes, no one was as important as her son. And, yes, he realized how lucky that made him.

  Worries flicked through his mind. "You have no idea what we'll face?"

  She shook her head. "No, that's why I haven't said anything. I was hoping the signs would grow stronger, but they haven't. Whatever it is, it will be up to us to help others."

  She'd always instilled that responsibility in him. Lords protected their serfs. Those who had, helped those without, but usually, the planets gave them more warning, more time to prepare. "This seems sudden."

  "I've been studying it, trying to find more answers before I concerned you with it. I've had no luck."

  The girl squirmed, and Christian shook his head. "Did Mother prepare you for this?"

  Daralys nodded.

  "Then you're a brave person." He motioned her into the Great Room.

  A fire burned in the massive fire place. Even in summer, when it sweltered outside, it felt cool in here. Servants bustled in and out of the basement kitchen and worked on banners at the great room's long, wooden tables. Daralys had come at a busy time. In three weeks, the trade caravan that traveled from west to east across many lands would reach their serfdom. They came in the middle of summer each year, and everyone prepared for it. Christian made it an event, a celebration—with food and flags and music.

  Daralys smiled. "My brothers are hoping the knife salesman comes this year. They're finally old enough, my father agreed to let them choose their own."

  Christian rethought his impression of the girl. Her cloak was coarse with no dye, but cheap knives could be bought at the local market. Her father obviously preferred costlier metals. Christian knew most of the serfs in his villages, and he thought he knew all of the merchants. Who was Daralys? "Is your father a merchant then?"

  "No, he's a farmer. We live near your farthest border, near the forest you gave to the vampires."

  That would explain why he hadn't seen her. "Your father's name?"

  "Arley of Anglostile."

  Christian nodded. "I've met him. He doesn't come to the fortress often, and he never brings his wife or daughters."

  A blush lit her face once more. "Father's afraid that the frippery of the well-to-do will make us willful and wasteful, so he keeps us close to home."

  Christian threw back his head and laughed. "Probably wise of him. Beware, or you'll leave here less pure."

  She grinned at his joke. Thank goodness, she wasn't as timid as she seemed. "I'm nearly twenty and unwed. He'd have sent me with Lady Enid sooner if he thought she'd find a match for me."

  "I have no worries on that point." Lady Enid shook her head.

  "More signs?" Christian asked.

  His mother evaded the question. "If we're wise, we'll make our way downstairs to eat lunch before Cook chastises us."

  Interesting. His mother had sidestepped the matchmaker question twice now. They went to the large, basement kitchen to find bread, cheese, and cold meat laid out for them. Cook placed her hands on her generous hips and glared at Christian. He couldn't help it. He felt his lips curl at the sight of her. She reminded him of a kettle about to boil over.

  "Your Brina's been waiting here so long, she gave up and went to help with the bread. I'll call her back."

  Christian sighed. His wife had started her life in his kitchens, but she didn't have to work there anymore. Try telling her that. She derived some kind of pleasure out of kneading and baking breads. She had the oven scars to prove it. He'd tried to gently remind her that she was no longer a scullery girl, but she just waved his words away.

  "I grew up under Cook's scoldings. I can't change now."

  They took their seats at the worn, work table, and while Christian cut slices of bread and beef for them, Brina entered the room. As usual, he paused to look at her. With her honey-gold hair and saucer, blue eyes, she took his breath away—every time.

  "Quit drooling on our food," Cook snapped. "Eat your lunch and let me get back to my preparations."

  Daralys's jaw dropped, and Brina laughed. "Christian and I both fear the threat of Cook's wooden spoon. We adore her."

  Darlys stared at the short, round woman who bustled around the kitchen. "And she still talks to you like that?"

  "It's her waspish personality," Christian explained, and Cook turned to smile at him.

  Daralys laughed. "She adores you back."

  Cook waved the spoon in her direction. "Be careful. Those who enter my domain become one of my own."

  "I'll remember that." Daralys sounded more pleased than frightened.

  They made small talk while they ate, but Christian's mind kept returning to his mother's visions. She was never wrong. What could harm his serfdom that only struck mortals and left magicks safe? There were too many options to choose from. How could he prepare when he was unsure of his enemy?

  * * *

  Lady Enid sighed as they left the castle to attend the festival of wagons. The caravan had arrived with its exotic goods from other places, and his mother was in a better mood than he'd seen her in for weeks.


  "Did you get a better reading?" he asked as they rode outside the high, wooden fence that circled the villages.

  "No, but I'm determined to enjoy this day. You should, too."

  Her words chilled him. "It's coming soon then?"

  "It's nearly upon us." She glanced at Brina, on the other side of Christian. "I've been training your Lynet. She's good with the Tarot."

  Brina smiled. "She's going to help with the baby once it comes. She'll be a perfect nursemaid."

  "And Daralys?" Christian asked. "Is she learning?"

  People walking to the hill where the event took place moved aside to let them pass. They bowed their heads in respect and tossed them smiles. His mother studied their faces as though trying to remember people she might not see again. It unnerved Christian. "Daralys?" he reminded her.

  His mother glanced at her student, riding slightly behind them and laughing at something Lynet said. "I've never taught anyone who learns so quickly. It's like all of her powers have been pent-up, and she's opened a floodgate to free them."

  "So she's powerful?" Brina sat side-saddle on her horse. Her stomach was too large to straddle her mount, and the baby would kick in protest. She was riding the white mare, a beast as gentle and calm as any horse in Christian's stables.

  "She doesn't have your raw power," Lady Enid explained. "You're the only witch I've met who can drain energy and restore it. But her healing gift is massive. We're lucky we found her."

  Music greeted them as they climbed the hill. Thurstan—Christian's scribe and minstrel—was performing here somewhere. Isolda, his wife, used her magic to weave such beautiful cloth that the merchants would be hard put to compete with her.

  The aromas of venison on spits—provided by Christian's soldiers—along with pheasants and rabbits, filled the air. Baskets of long loaves of bread and rounds of cheese sat on wooden benches—all from the castle's kitchens. Voices and laughter drifted toward them. Children ran, holding sticks with ribbons tied to their ends. Banners hung from tall poles, surrounding the wagons—which were more like homes and shops on wheels. Each was elaborately painted, some shaped like barrels, others long rectangles. His people jostled from one wagon to the next.