Thunderlord

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  With this, Dimitra broke down completely. Her body shuddered with wave after wave of sobbing, yet the only sounds that came from her throat were choked gasps.

  Alayna grasped the seat of the chair, hard enough to make her knuckles ache, to keep from rushing to Dimitra’s side. What the older woman had done was cunning and self-serving, but no lasting harm had been done, especially compared to all the kindness and help Dimitra had shown her. Without her, I would have been miserable during those first few days, and then when I learned about Francisco. And even if that were not true, she thought, no one should have to suffer this way without the chance to speak in her own defense.

  Dimitra mumbled something, her words unintelligible.

  “What’s that? You have something to say?” Gwynn’s voice offered no hint of solace.

  “What I did was unpardonable. I have no hope, but for your mercy. For—forgive me.”

  Gwynn held up a hand for stillness. No one dared move as the moment stretched on. “Look at me, woman.”

  Dimitra took a ragged breath, visibly gathering herself, before she lifted her head. Her cheeks were reddened, her eyes swollen.

  “I will not forgive you, for such treachery deserves no pardon. But the future Lady Scathfell may, if she chooses.” Gwynn turned in his chair, indicating Alayna.

  Confusion gave way to astonishment on Dimitra’s face. “My—my Lady Scathfell?”

  “Damisela Alayna and I have pledged ourselves to one another, that promise to be consummated di catenas at Midwinter Festival,” Gwynn said. “Such was my intention, while you were scheming to deliver her into the hands of a lesser man.”

  “I—I had no idea,” Dimitra murmured.

  Alayna could not remain still any longer. “Domna Dimitra, are you sorry for what you did?”

  “Vai damisela, I wish I had never thought of such a thing.”

  “And do you promise to never do it again? To speak and act openly with me and to follow my wishes and those of my intended husband?”

  “I wish I had done so! I wish I had never met Dom Nevin.”

  Alayna went to Dimitra and raised her to standing. “Then I forgive you. I cannot forget what you did, but when I remember, I will also remind myself of how kind you were when I first arrived. I wish to always have your wisdom and experience to guide me.”

  Dimitra kissed Alayna’s hands, much to Alayna’s embarrassment. “Let us put this whole painful episode behind us,” Alayna said.

  After Dimitra had withdrawn along with Ruyven and the guards, Gwynn held out his hand to Alayna. “I was harsh with her, I know. I wanted to make sure there was no chance she would revert to her old ways.”

  “I believe her repentance, but then, I believed her false words before.”

  He kissed her brow and then held her close, her cheek pressed against his chest. “You are a jewel among women, did you know that? No, how could you, coming from the back end of nowhere and then subject to flattery from the like of Nevin?”

  “What if he learns you called him vermin? Although I suppose that as lord of a realm, you may call him anything you like.”

  His laugh rumbled through his chest. “He has been called worse things by me, and to his face. You must stop thinking like a rabbit-horn and more like a lady eagle.”

  “I—I will try.”

  “And do not trouble yourself on Nevin’s account, for he will thrive at King Allart’s court. In fact, I would not be surprised if he himself has been scheming for a way to get sent there.”

  19

  When Alayna arrived back at her chambers, every detail of the sitting room had been made perfect in her absence, from the brightly burning fire to the bouquet of dried strawflowers in its vase of polished green stone. Dimitra herself stood waiting. She curtsied as a servant to her mistress, more reverently than she had done before.

  Alayna began to compliment Dimitra on how pleasant the room was, but then held her tongue. It was Dimitra’s responsibility to ensure that these rooms, and clothes and meals and anything else Alayna might fancy, were all seen to.

  “It’s been an eventful day,” Alayna said, deliberately looking past Dimitra, rather than meeting her gaze. “I’ll rest for a few hours. Be sure to have suitable attire ready for dinner tonight with Lord Scathfell.”

  “Very well, my lady. I wonder—”

  “If it’s about today, you’re not to speak of it.”

  Dimitra froze for an instant, then went on. “I wonder if you would care to bathe beforehand.”

  “A pitcher of warm water will suffice.” Alayna proceeded to the bedroom. Dimitra followed and in silence helped Alayna off with her shoes and clothes. Neither spoke.

  How many walls we build, shutting one another out, Alayna thought as she slipped beneath the comforter. She missed Kyria even more than ever.

  Alayna and Gwynn dined alone, except for a guard at the door and a pair of servants, who brought out platters of food and then stood along the wall. The food was simple—bread and roasted vegetables seasoned with herbs, and bowls of a nut-grain mixture with a splash of sauce—not the overly rich fare of the welcoming feast.

  After they had been served, Alayna found herself at a loss for what to say. It was thrilling to be here with Gwynn, and she still felt a little dizzy from the speed with which her life had changed. There was so much she wanted to know about him, besides that he was handsome and charming and firm in her defense. Gwynn immediately put her at ease, entertaining her with stories of growing up in the castle. To her surprise, she found there wasn’t much difference between life as a child at Rockraven and here at Scathfell Castle, except that he’d had only one brother, quite a few years older, the one who’d died. Clearly he’d adored his brother. She’d heard the lingering pain in his voice whenever he mentioned his brother or his parents.

  “Your own family was much larger, I believe, very different from mine,” he said, sopping up the last of the sauce with a bit of bread.

  “There was Papa, of course. Mamma died when I was little, so I don’t remember her much. In order of birth, we are Valdir, who’s married to Ellimira and has two boys with another babe on the way, and then Hjalmar, Fiona, Kyria, Rakhal, and me. Fiona went away when she married, so I haven’t seen her in a long time.” At the name Kyria, Alayna felt a pulse of sadness. I will never cease to miss her.

  “Speaking of home, I was wondering . . .” she said, setting down her eating utensils.

  “Yes, my dear?”

  “I would so like my family to know of our happiness. I confess, I was reluctant to even mention sending them a message about Kyria. My father will be so distressed. They all will. But now this news might soften that pain, at least I hope so.”

  “What a kind heart you have, and of course I will dispatch a rider, weather permitting. Is there any other wish of yours I can fulfill?”

  Heartened, she went on. “I have so many questions about what to expect once we are married.” She blushed, thinking he might decide she meant intimate matters. “Things like my household responsibilities as lady of this great castle.”

  “I expect you will be far too busy raising our sons to trouble yourself with domestic matters.”

  “May I not do both? At home, my sister-in-law Ellimira kept the household ledgers, supervised the kitchen and housekeeping servants, counted and repaired the linens, taught us girls to sew our own dresses, and so many other things. She was busy from before dawn until everyone else was abed. Please allow me to be of use. I have some skill in managing a household, though a much smaller one.”

  Gwynn sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “I’ve done without a lady chatelaine for so long, since my mother died, that I haven’t thought about it. Zefano sees to what must be done. I suppose his wife helps him and Dimitra does, as well.”

  Alayna might have forgiven Dimitra but did not want her performing the duties of Lady S
cathfell for one moment longer.

  “Do you not find matters here to your liking?” he asked. “The food? The clothing prepared for your sister, which is now yours?”

  “Yes, it’s all splendid. But people cannot live on festive meals all year long.” She indicated the remains of the meal. “This is more like what we will eat every day, or so I hope.”

  Now he laughed. “I had no idea that such a beauty would have good sense. You are quite right, of course, for the feasts and the balls upon your arrival were a rare occurrence. Indeed, we have had little cause for celebration since I was a child.”

  Alayna gathered her courage and reached out to touch his hand where it lay on the table. “You mentioned having a brother who died. There is so much about you, and Scathfell itself, of which I’m hopelessly ignorant. But I’d like to share your burdens.”

  Gwynn’s expression turned stony, although he did not pull away from her touch. “Some might say it is folly to speak of such things to you, that should you learn what awaits you here, you will flee back to your own family.”

  “Why? What can be so dreadful to make you think that?”

  “You have a right to know what you are sealing yourself to in marrying me,” he said, and his bleakness made it sound as if she had just consigned herself to Zandru’s coldest hell. Her heart went out to him. When she said nothing, he went on, “For a generation now, as you may know, my family has waged a feud with the neighboring realm of Aldaran, who are also our kin. My elder brother, heir to Scathfell, was betrothed to Dorilys of Aldaran when they were but children. He died, and although it was never proven, my father suspected the girl herself of some vile sorcery.”

  Alayna nodded. She’d heard of that ill-fated betrothal, enough to make her feel ashamed that Dorilys, the Witch-Child of Aldaran, was the daughter of her own Great-Aunt Aliciane.

  “I was too young to understand, but even I saw how it changed my father. He never forgot, and he never forgave,” he said in a tightly controlled, almost expressionless voice. “Then one thing led to another. War followed, and in the end, he was forced into a humiliating surrender. He returned home so broken, he barely knew me. He died a short time afterward. My mother was so consumed by grief, she did not long survive him. I blame her death on the Aldarans, as well.”

  “So you lost both your parents and your brother—your entire family.”

  He nodded grimly. “You wonder why I keep so many soldiers. It is because the Aldarans are not to be trusted, not a single one of the lot. The feud is not over, my love, not while I remember what was taken from Scathfell. Not while there is an Aldaran heir perched in his fortress.”

  Blessed Cassilda! Alayna forced herself to remain calm. “So you—we, I mean—are we still at war?”

  “At present, we are technically at peace, having been forced into a humiliating surrender. But this peace cannot be relied upon. I cannot build Scathfell’s future on quicksand, apt to dissolve at a moment’s notice and plunge us all into bloodshed. Until now, I could do no more than be vigilant and prepared. So many lives have already been lost to Aldaran witchery that to go against them by ordinary arms would be suicide. I would not lead my men into senseless slaughter. Long have I searched for an answer to this impasse.”

  The muscles around his eyes tensed, and his vision seemed to turn inward. “I kept my heart guarded, except for Ruyven, for how could I take a wife and sire sons, knowing that they might face the same hideous death as my brother—blasted by sorcerous lightning?”

  By this time, Alayna’s head was spinning with sad history, the schemes and counter schemes, and most of all, the grief and fear that gnawed at him.

  “Then it came to me,” Gwynn went on, “the old proverb about fighting fire with fire. The Aldarans had the advantage, the Gift of lightning control, whereas we have had only a little laran—only enough to sometimes sense the truth of another’s words or to feel another’s emotions if they are strong enough.” He paused, his face softening in a tender smile. “This is why I know you are so sweet, so . . . good.”

  Alayna flushed. In the past, others had called her pretty, but never good, not in the sense he meant it. She understood now that none of her peccadilloes mattered. What Gwynn referred to was an essential aspect of her character, one she had never considered had value. Suitors wanted golden curls and flirtatious smiles, didn’t they? Not . . . goodness? Courtship, like life itself, turned out to be nothing like her childish imaginings.

  “Then it came to me,” he went on. “I may not have power over lightning, but I can ensure that my sons do. That Gift came to Aldaran through a Rockraven woman the old lord kept as barragana. It was never part of the Aldaran genetic heritage. So I sent to your father with a marriage offer for one of his daughters, to bring that Gift to Scathfell, with all its power to defend my lands and people.”

  She’d been a fool not to have realized it earlier. Gwynn had said he sought a Rockraven daughter, any Rockraven daughter. No one at home had questioned why such a powerful lord would choose a wife from a penniless house, and Father had been too glad of the bride-price to ask too closely.

  Gwynn gazed at her, his formerly somber expression melting into one of tenderness. “Couples often begin their married lives with little knowledge of one another. I thought that was my lot, too. I never expected fate to bring me someone like you, Alayna. When you came to Scathfell, I thought you charming. And the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But when you had the courage to refuse Nevin, and then when you pleaded for Dimitra, I knew I had found much more. You are not only sweet and lovely, you have courage and insight. And compassion. Until you agreed to marry me, I had no notion of how much I needed those things—how much I need you.”

  The wardrobe Dimitra presented for Alayna’s consideration comprised the cream spidersilk ball gown and three tunics with underskirts, one of them a horrible shade for Alayna’s complexion. Alayna paused in looking over the garments spread out over bed and chest. At home she’d had one holiday gown, one everyday dress, one split riding skirt with jacket, and one nightgown, all of them hand-me-downs. Plus a cloak, assorted shawls, hats, scarves, and mittens, none of which truly belonged to her, the way the rest of the family members snatched them up whenever convenient.

  It occurred to her that this array might represent an enormous expenditure on Gwynn’s part. She remembered what Francisco had said about the farms not being able to support so many fighting men. This feud with Aldaran must end.

  The first matter to tackle was the bridal gown. She could not in conscience have a new one made up for her, but perhaps if she altered the cream spidersilk, it would serve. Her gaze lit on pearls set in the embroidery of the russet tunic.

  “This will do,” she told Dimitra. “We’ll pick out the pearls and stitch them here and here, like this . . .”

  Dimitra’s expression of reserve, which she’d worn like a mask since her humiliation, softened. “Instead of scattering them, for they’re so small they can hardly be seen, we might place them along the neckline and down the center of the bodice.”

  The woman had a good eye, Alayna admitted, finding the best way to show off not only the pearls but the décolletage. She blushed to think of how grown-up she’d felt at that first ball and how naïve she’d been. On Midwinter, she would become mistress of this castle and wife to a great lord. If Evanda answered her prayers, a year hence she would also be mother to the heir of Scathfell.

  Gwynn looked tense when Alayna came down to dinner, but she was in such a good mood that he eventually softened. “And what have you been up to that has so pleased you?”

  “For that, you must wait for your wedding day,” she teased.

  “Lord of Light! Not married yet, and she’s bossing me around.” At her wide-eyed expression, he added, “My love, I was joking. Since I outgrew my childish breeches, no woman has ever been able to persuade me against my wishes.” He spoke lightly, as if the ma
tter were a joke, but Alayna caught the hint of steel beneath his words.

  “I will of course defer to you in all things,” Alayna said, lowering her eyes.

  “I see I’ve offended you. Forgive me, for I am accustomed to giving orders to men, not my intended bride. Their duty is to obey me, not to debate the wisdom of the courses I have chosen.”

  “You do not ask others for their opinions?” And sometimes realize that they are right and you are wrong? What a mismatch he and Kyria would have been, she who never hesitated to make her own thoughts known and to browbeat her brothers into agreement.

  “Certainly, but that does not give them, or anyone, license to defy me, or Dimitra to contradict you.”

  “That is not a fair comparison,” Alayna pointed out. “When I first arrived, I knew little of castle life. I consulted her in many things. Other than the one misstep, Dimitra’s counsel has been sound.”

  “Perhaps your trust was not well placed. Had you commanded her according to your own wishes, she might never have had the audacity to interfere with your private concerns.”

  Alayna sat back in her chair, taken aback that he should blame her for Dimitra’s treachery. He must not understand how overwhelmed she’d felt on learning of Kyria’s death, how inattentive and malleable. But when she opened her mouth to explain, she found she could not do it.

  Gwynn drained his goblet and smiled at her. “Come, do not take offense. Winter will soon be upon us, and then Midwinter Festival and our nuptials. Let us be easy with one another. Scathfell has enough enemies in the world without our creating strife within these walls.”

  “I presume you mean Aldaran,” Alayna replied, still fuming. “Why must Scathfell and Aldaran still be enemies? You’ve said yourself that the feud happened in your father’s time and that the present Lord Aldaran has made no hostile move against you. Then what point is there in maintaining an army—” and impoverishing the people in your care, “—when it may never be needed? Has it occurred to you that just having such a force makes it all the more likely that it will be used? You’re like the man who has already drawn his sword—one peep out of Aldaran and you’ll use it without even thinking, without even talking to them.”