Faraday clearly understood what she had started and she understood as well that having started it she would have to lay it to rest. She spoke again into the absolute silence about the campfire, her voice gentle, her eyes fixed on Axis. “I have heard that the Princess Rivkah was a woman of remarkable qualities, Axis, and you must surely be proud to have had such a woman as your mother. Yet I am equally sure that she too would be proud to have you as her son, and to have you bear her name through these years that she is unable to live herself.”
Embeth closed her eyes against the tears that pricked up in them. In the eighteen years she had known Axis she had never presumed upon their friendship enough to mention his mother to him so openly. And yet this young woman had spoken clearly and simply of Rivkah’s pride and love for Axis as if it were undoubted fact. Embeth did not often feel so deeply moved, and especially by one so young. She opened her eyes again and looked between Axis and Faraday. Perhaps her reticence in past years had been a mistake.
Axis took a slow, deep breath, profoundly affected by Faraday’s words. “Thank you, Faraday. It is rare that I hear anyone speak so well of my mother.”
Faraday’s beautiful smile lit up her face and Axis’ eyes darkened perceptibly as they looked back at Faraday.
Embeth, watching the two of them, felt a sudden chill of premonition. “Dear Artor,” she whispered to herself. “Not this…not this.” Not with Faraday bound to Borneheld. Not with the contracts signed and the betrothal oaths taken before witnesses. Not with the bitterness that already existed between the two brothers. If it could be stopped before it went too much further then the tragedy might be averted. She would have to speak to Faraday, the sooner the better.
Embeth smiled and spoke lightly, deliberately breaking the look between them. “Axis, it is so rare that I have a chance to hear you play your harp. Will you play for us now? And Timozel, do you have your lute with you?”
There was a collective sigh of relief around the fire as the mood changed.
“Only if the ladies agree to accompany us with their voices,” Timozel said, unsure what to think about the scene he had just witnessed.
For a man so given to the military arts, Axis had an unexpected flair for music and song. Embeth was never aware of who had taught Axis his skill on the harp—he was proficient even when he joined her and Ganelon at eleven. Although far less skilled, Timozel could accompany well enough and the three women were all practised with their voices. The rest of the evening passed pleasantly with ballads and songs of love and adventure.
Gilbert, protesting his inability to keep a tune, sat silently throughout the evening, applauding the musicians and singers whenever they finished a song and smiling at their laughter. His sharp eyes, however, kept returning to Axis and Faraday. Jayme had told him to report everything he witnessed, everything, and Gilbert meant to do just that.
11
UNLOCKED DOORS
Two days later they rode into Tare, the small town which sat on the border of the Plains of Tare and the small Province of Tarantaise. It was poor country, and even assiduous use of the Plough only yielded small returns in grain and vegetables, so Tare relied on the east–west trade across Achar for its primary income. When Embeth had first come to live in Tare as a young bride she had been overcome by the vast spaces of the sparsely grassed plains surrounding Tare. Now, after twenty years, she had come to love the town and appreciate the slow rhythms of Tarian life.
The townsfolk lined the town walls to watch them arrive, waving and cheering as the men rode around the town walls. The Tarians were round-eyed but not displeased to see so many Axe-Wielders. Soldiers, whether Axemen or regular soldiers, always meant money.
The majority of the Axemen would have to camp outside the town precinct, for there was no way they could be billeted in a town the size of Tare, but Embeth invited the women, Gilbert, Axis and Belial to stay at her castle. After some confusion, Axis told Timozel he too could stay with his mother while they were in Tare. It was a concession that pleased Timozel though he was resentful that he needed Axis’ permission to sleep in his own house. Especially when Axis would no doubt make free use of the privacy of Embeth’s home to take further advantage of her.
Axis planned to stop two days in Tare to replenish supplies and rest his men and their horses. After the first few days on a hard march there was always a mass of equipment needing repair, horses to be reshod, and men needed the chance to spend some solid hours at weapon practice. And if the reports drifting down from the north were true, then within a few short weeks they might not have the time to relax, and many might never have the chance to woo a serving girl over a jar of ale again. He told the unit commanders to let as many men as possible enjoy their evenings in town.
The Lady of Tare lived in a high, thick-walled castle sheltered against the fortified walls of the town and separated from the streets of Tare by a tall private wall. It sat on a small hill so that its walks and gardens looked down over the town. It was a large building and accommodated the women, their servants, the Brother and the three Axe-Wielders easily. Although Embeth had another son and a daughter—twins and a year younger than Timozel—both were still attending the court at Carlon.
Embeth desperately wanted to talk to Faraday before she departed, but Merlion had other ideas. For the two days they stayed with the Lady of Tare she kept Faraday closeted in her room, going over designs for dresses, and describing the duties and responsibilities she would have to assume once she became the Duchess of Ichtar.
Faraday would have liked to spend some time on her own or talking with Embeth. There was also the town to explore and the thrill of watching the Axe-Wielders at weapon practice. But Merlion kept her firmly under control, admonishing her that she would have no time for such frivolities once she was married to Borneheld. Merlion had brought with her lists of the major nobles in the realm, the names of their families out to the third cousin, and the type of property and income that each controlled. All this she would have Faraday learn. By heart, if possible. There were also the towns and villages of Ichtar to memorise, together with the names of Borneheld’s retainers and senior household staff.
By the night of their second day in Tare, Faraday was despairing. They would be leaving at dawn the next morning and Merlion’s demands on her time had left her feeling exhausted rather than refreshed. She sat up in her bed, relishing her privacy, and, gazing through the window at the clouds rushing across the moonlit night, let her thoughts drift towards her forthcoming marriage to Borneheld. Now that there was some physical distance between them Faraday felt she could think about it a little more dispassionately.
Faraday knew she had been bedazzled by her first sight of Axis, but she understood she could not let her fascination with the man ruin her marriage with Borneheld. Axis was surely a better looking man than Borneheld, and his reputation as BattleAxe lent him an aura of glamour that her affianced husband could not match, but Borneheld was no poor choice for husband by any means. As Duke of Ichtar, he was the richest man in the realm apart from Priam himself, and he was also WarLord and current heir to the throne of Achar. It was no wonder her parents were so excited with the match. She could do no better.
Faraday began to feel a little guilty about her behaviour in the palace courtyard. Borneheld had not meant to insult her and had tried, in his own way, to be kind. She thought over what she knew of Borneheld’s life. Perhaps his blunt nature owed much to his lack of a mother in childhood. Searlas had not only not remarried after Rivkah’s death, but had died himself when Borneheld was fourteen, leaving the boy to assume the heavy responsibilities of the Dukedom of Ichtar at an extraordinarily early age. Perhaps all he needed was the gentle hand of a wife. Faraday tried to picture Borneheld as he might be after two years of marriage to her—still predominantly a fighting man perhaps, but with polished manners and easy conversation. Yes, Faraday smiled, perhaps all he needed was a bit of refinement in his life, and she would be the one to provide it.
She wondered what it had been like for Embeth when she first married Ganelon of Tare. Faraday knew Embeth was of a Carlonite family and that she’d married at an even younger age than Faraday was now. Perhaps she’d faced similar problems.
Faraday frowned and played with a tendril of her hair where it had escaped the braid wrapped about her head. She needed to speak to Embeth. Although it was late, perhaps she was not asleep yet. Would Embeth mind being disturbed? Faraday abruptly made up her mind and swung her legs out of the bed, wrapping a warm shawl about her shoulders against the cold night air.
The house was dark and quiet, for everyone had gone to bed early in preparation for the dawn start. Faraday walked slowly down the wide corridor, running her fingers along the wall for guidance, her feet cold where they touched the bare stone between the scattered floor rugs. She held her breath outside her mother’s room, but all was quiet. Mentally Faraday cursed her mother’s lists; if nothing else she would be able to recite the list of Borneheld’s retainers to him on their wedding night. She wished her mother would tell her more about what a husband expected of a wife.
She paused outside Embeth’s room. There was the vaguest suggestion of light coming from between the cracks in the door. Good, Embeth was still awake. Faraday tapped softly, listened carefully for a moment, then tapped again. Embeth’s voice sounded softly, although what she said was indistinct. Faraday took it as an invitation to enter.
She twisted the door handle and stepped quickly into the room. Embeth was sitting on the edge of her bed swathed in a green woollen wrap, with a look of utter shock and disbelief on her face.
“Embeth,” said Faraday, halfway across the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late but I want to ask you if…”
Too late she saw Axis standing naked by the fire. She stopped, stunned, unable to tear her eyes from him.
“Faraday,” Embeth said desperately, rising from her bed and stretching a hand out towards the girl.
Faraday dragged her eyes back to Embeth. Her hands started to tremble where they held her shawl about her shoulders. How could she have been such a fool! Her eyes filled with mortified tears and she started to stumble back towards the door. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Please, excuse me!” Then she turned and fled before her tears could spill down her cheeks.
Axis took a step forward but Embeth stopped him with a look. “Wait here, I’ll talk to her.”
Embeth hurried as fast as she dared down the dark corridor. She dared not call out for fear she would wake Merlion and prayed that Faraday was not so angry that she would slam her bedroom door or, worse, bolt it after her. Fortunately Faraday did neither, and Embeth was able to hurry into the bedroom after her, closing the door securely behind them.
Faraday was huddled into her bed, her hands covering her face, her shoulders convulsing with sobs. Embeth sat down and wrapped her arms about her. “Faraday?”
Faraday dropped her hands from her tear-stained face. “Oh Embeth! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise…that…”
“Shush. It’s all right. You did nothing wrong, Faraday. Axis and I were just foolish to take such a risk with so many guests here. Shush.”
Faraday took a deep breath and made a determined effort to stop her tears. Artor, what a simpleton she was! “How long…how long…?”
“Oh, on and off for about three years. Faraday, listen to me. Axis and I have been good friends for many years; now and again we are lovers. But we are not in love. Do you know what I am saying?”
Faraday nodded, drying her tears with the back of her hand. “I think so. But I still feel so stupid.”
“Well,” said Embeth dryly, “at least you have learnt one of the more important rules of court etiquette—not to go bursting into bedrooms late at night, even if the person inside is supposed to be alone.”
Faraday smiled a little. “Mother didn’t teach me that one.”
Embeth squeezed Faraday’s shoulders and then let her go, sitting back a little. “What did you want to see me about?”
“Well…can I ask you another question first? About what just happened?” Embeth nodded. “Do women at court sometimes take lovers, even though they are married to another?”
Ah, thought Embeth, and right here is where I have to be careful. It was not unusual for married noblewomen to take lovers, as did their husbands, but Embeth could foresee disaster should she tell Faraday that. “Faraday, sometimes it is not unknown for women to take lovers, but usually only after they are widowed.” And may Artor forgive my dissembling tongue, she thought to herself.
“So you and Axis were not lovers while Ganelon was alive?”
“No. We only became lovers some time after Ganelon died. And, should I remarry, then I would be true to my husband.” At least that is the truth, Embeth thought.
Faraday was silent for a moment. “I wanted to ask you about marriage, Embeth. How you felt, what it was like.”
“Are you having doubts, Faraday?”
Faraday nodded a little, her bright hair slipping free of its braid and over her eyes.
“It is not uncommon for a girl to have doubts before her marriage. So much is unknown and uncertain. But Faraday, your parents have already signed the contracts between your family and Borneheld. Although you have not yet actually spoken the marriage vows, or consummated the union, there is no turning back. Legally you are now bound to Borneheld, as Borneheld is to you. Only death can break the bonds between you. You both freely consented to the marriage before witnesses and before Artor.”
Faraday sighed and twisted her hair up out of her eyes. “I know, Embeth. But…but what if we are not happy together?”
“Faraday, your duty is to your husband, to look after his needs and his estate and to bear his children. If love also comes, then that is good. But whatever happens you must always respect and honour him. You will be Duchess of Ichtar one day, and possibly Queen. You will have responsibilities to many other people as well as to yourself and your immediate family. Happiness?” Embeth shrugged. “Happiness is not everything, but duty and respect surely is. Your duty lies clear before you, Faraday. Do not let any foolish, girlish, romantic notions come between you and your duty.”
Faraday looked a little shaken at this plain speech, but she also looked determined. “I understand, Embeth. Tell me, did you have happiness with Ganelon?”
Embeth smiled a little, remembering. “He was a good man, and he cared for me. He also respected me. At first I did not love him, and I found it hard to be happy here. But as the years passed and our marriage grew stronger, love and happiness also came along. One day—after bearing him three children!—I woke up and realised that I was in love with Ganelon. Two years later I lost him to the ill-willed tusks of a wild boar.” Embeth did not add that she had almost died with grief when her steward brought her news of Ganelon’s death. For a moment her heart clenched, remembering the blood down the steward’s tunic, the tears in his eyes.
Faraday smiled, comforted. This is what would happen between Borneheld and her. Love might not come at once, not even for a year or two. But come it would, and she would be as good a wife to Borneheld as Embeth had been to Ganelon. All it took was patience, respect, and a firm sense of duty.
“Thank you, Embeth. I’m glad that I had this talk with you.”
“Artor rewards those who remain true to their duty. Now,” Embeth tucked Faraday into her bed as she would have done her own daughter, “to sleep with you, for it is an early start in the morning.”
When Embeth opened the door to her room a few moments later Axis was gone. She suddenly felt very sad, not wanting to spend this night alone after remembering her happiness with Ganelon. If Faraday had been betrothed to a Ganelon then Embeth would have no doubts about the outcome, but Borneheld was no Ganelon.
12
AT THE EDGE OF THE SILENT WOMAN WOODS
The journey from Tare to the Silent Woman Woods took five days. The first days of Bone-month were upon them and the weather was now bitterly cold.
During the day dark clouds broiled across the sky, and the riders were hit with frequent bouts of heavy rain and sometimes hail. Snow could not be far away. The soldiers huddled inside their oiled sealskin cloaks, the collars turned up to their ears, trying to ignore the water that trickled down their necks. The plains of northern Tarantaise were bare of anything but league after league of scrubby grassland containing no life at all. There was no shelter to be found against the rain. Merlion huddled cold and miserable inside a voluminous cloak and again damned her husband’s insistence that they ride with the Axe-Wielders. Even Faraday’s spirits were dampened by the weather. Occasionally Timozel rode beside them, trying to cheer them up with amusing stories, but Merlion and Faraday would only smile politely, and eventually he’d gallop back to his unit.
Once or twice Axis tried to speak with Faraday. He thought he ought to say something, even though Embeth had told him she’d explained everything. On the one occasion he’d managed to find Faraday without her mother attached to her side like a limpet, she had smiled, apologised graciously for interrupting Embeth and himself, and turned on her heel and walked away without another word. Axis shrugged. Well, she had to grow up sooner or later. Better sooner, before Borneheld got his hands on her.
On the evening of the fifth day, for once blessedly clear of rain although the clouds still hung low, the dark line of the Silent Woman Woods appeared on the horizon, spreading as far as the eye could see.
Belial rode up to Axis where he sat motionless on Belaguez, surveying the line of trees ahead. “It is enough to make an Artor-fearing man reach for his axe, is it not, BattleAxe?”
Axis nodded his head absently. He had only seen the Silent Woman Woods once before in his life, and had been glad to pass leagues to the south of them. Now, however, he would have to enter.
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