The Song of the Thrush

by Christine Pope

  Was it because I looked so much like his late wife that he was doubly disappointed in me, that I had in some way failed his memory of her as well?

  I could not bear to think such a thing, but I had to allow myself to believe it might be true.

  Tears pricked at my eyes again and I swallowed, forcing them back as best I could. How dreadful that I had blurted out such a terrible insult to Lord Sorthannic! Why could I not have accepted the ritual kiss and kept my thoughts to myself? Perhaps, if I had behaved like less of a child, I could have seen past that bird’s nest of a beard, allowed myself to look for the man beneath. And who knows? If I had acted in a more seemly fashion, had eventually become the duke’s wife, in time I might have been able to persuade him to shave off the beard, so I might gaze upon his features unobscured by that bushy growth.

  Too late for all that, of course. Now I could only hope that the incident would pass without too many dire consequences, and I might gain my father’s favor again. He was angry now, but I was his only daughter. Surely he must find some mercy for me in his heart.

  However, he sent one of the footmen to inform me that I should eat my supper in my chambers. I did not argue, for what had been phrased like a request was really a command. To tell the truth, I preferred to hide myself away, to give myself some time apart from the rest of the household. My father did not put on many airs, unless we had visitors, and so we generally took our evening meal with the men-at-arms who guarded the keep. At the moment, I did not think I could bear their curious stares.

  I did not sleep well that night — an apt punishment for my behavior, I thought. And although I had no real interest in what I wore, the following day I allowed Sendra to dress me in my favorite dark blue gown, the one with the green embroidery around the neck and sleeves. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that perhaps if I appeared subdued and modest and like a good, dutiful daughter, my father would find it in his heart to forgive me. Surely he could not stay angry with me forever.

  Since I received no further instructions about remaining in my room, I deemed it safe enough to go downstairs. The light was fine this morning, so I thought it best to go to the solar and take up my embroidery. Again, this notion was born of the idea that doing so would make me look like a well-behaved and biddable child, and not the young woman who had brought such shame on the family the day before. Besides, I did enjoy needlework, for it gave me a chance to show that I was accomplished at something.

  It was in the solar that my father found me; it appeared that he had been riding, for he wore his high boots, and a faint scent of leather and horse sweat accompanied him. I did not know whether this was a good sign or not, for while my father enjoyed riding very much, especially during such pleasant, mild weather as we’d been enjoying lately, he also tended to rise early and ride if his thoughts were troubled and he needed time to sort through them.

  Unfortunately, I had a feeling that his reasons for riding this morning had everything to do with the latter, and not because he wanted to spend some time in the sunshine.

  Still, I made myself pretend as best I could that everything was well between us, and raised my head from my embroidery and smiled as he entered the solar. That smile faltered as soon as I caught a glimpse of his stormy expression, but I knew that to allow my smile to disappear entirely would look even worse.

  “Good morning, Father,” I said, and secured my needle in the heavy linen so I need not worry about dropping it while we spoke.

  “Marenna,” he replied.

  Oh, dear. Was he so angry that he could not even wish me a good morning, even if such words were nothing more than an empty pleasantry? Still, I did not know how I should proceed, having never experienced such treatment from him before. I had to do something to break the heavy silence which fell between us, though, for with every second that passed, it seemed to grow more awkward.

  “I thought perhaps I could send the Duke of Marric’s Rest a letter of apology, by way of smoothing things over,” I ventured. This was a notion that had occurred to me during the depths of the restless night I had just passed. Whether or not it would do any good, I couldn’t be certain, but surely there was at least a small chance that Lord Sorthannic would soften slightly when he realized my unguarded comments hadn’t been malicious in nature.

  “You will do no such thing,” my father replied. “For to send such a letter will only be pouring more salt on his wounds. No, best to let it lie, and hope that he forgets sooner rather than later. If he is finally searching for a wife after all this time, we can only hope that he will be otherwise occupied.”

  “But — ”

  “No.” The word was flat, and brooked no further argument. I stared up at my father, searching his face for some indication that he would not carry this grudge forever, but I saw none. His lips were pressed together and his gaze cool as he looked down at me, as though I was a stranger and not the daughter he had raised for the past nineteen years. “In fact, I spent this past night thinking about what you did, and how you behaved. I was following your late mother’s wishes when I allowed you to make your own choice of husband, but I think that game has gone on for far too long. It is clear to me that you have no desire to select a man to be your spouse, no matter how worthy he might be. For you to reject a duke of the realm — ”

  “Who looked like he might be one of the corraghar, the wild men who roam the hills of North Eredor,” I broke in, unable to contain myself any longer. “Surely I am allowed some discretion in my choice?”

  If possible, my father’s lips thinned even further. “No, I think not. My patience is spent, Marenna. I have let it be known that the first man to pass through the doors of this castle who is not already a member of the household may have your hand in marriage. Perhaps seeing the hand of the gods at work in such a thing will teach you a little humility.”

  Aghast, I leapt up from my chair. “Father, you cannot mean that!”

  “I do,” he said, his expression hard. “You had your chance — you have had multiple chances — and yet you spent them all foolishly, believing yourself to be above such things. I am not sure of your reasoning, save that perhaps you either thought yourself better than all those who came to pay you court, or you had no wish for marriage at all, and preferred a life of leisure spent under my roof. Either way, you will find yourself sorely out of luck.” He paused there, his gaze flickering about the solar, with its hangings of silk and the warm light that poured in through the mullioned windows. “Enjoy this luxury while you may, for there is a very good chance that it will not last much longer.”

  Having delivered this pronouncement, he turned and exited the room, leaving me to stare after him in dismay. Worry churned within me. How could he have decided upon such a cruel thing? Was this all just a terrible jest? No, unless I did not know my father at all, he had meant every word he said. And I somehow knew this was not a matter that could be solved by such stratagems as teasing cajolery, or a pleasing smile, as I had used in the past to get myself out of trouble with him. He was angry, angrier than I had ever seen him before.

  All I could do now was await my doom.

  CHAPTER 2

  To my infinite relief, no strangers arrived at the castle that morning. My father had informed me that word had been sent around the countryside as to his peculiar commandment, but either he had done so merely to frighten me, or no one in the vicinity was terribly eager to be my husband. This notion upset me almost more than the thought of being married off to a complete stranger, for — once they had gotten done waxing rhapsodic about Silverhold and the extensive mines that had made my dowry so enticing — most of those who had sued for my hand in the past had certainly been effusive enough in their compliments, praising my beauty, or my grace in the ballroom, or the delicacy of my embroidery, something I had always been rather proud of. Had they all been telling me only what I wanted to hear?

  Seeking some reassurance, I went to the mirror in my room and analyzed every detail of my features, f
rom the arch of my eyebrows to the curve of my lips. I did not observe anything there that I had not seen a thousand times before, but now I could not help but wonder if the sum total of all those individual details was somewhat less than I had been led to think. Surely there could be no other reason why there had not been many suitors arriving today, all wishing to claim me in accordance with my father’s offer.

  But then….

  I was in my chambers, pretending to read a book but in actuality replaying that terrible scene of the afternoon before and trying to think of how I might have salvaged the situation, when a knock came at the door. At once my heart leapt into my throat, even though I made myself calmly set down the book and go to answer that knock. Outside was my maid Sendra, her expression grave.

  “Your father requests your presence in the hall,” she said.

  This summons made my stomach churn even more, for I guessed precisely why he had sent for me. How could I walk calmly downstairs and see the gods only knew what horror waited for me? Perhaps this man would be old or fat, or the lowest of the low — a swineherd, stinking of his charges?

  No, surely my father must have his limits. Even if he had hardened his heart against me, I could not allow myself to believe that he would marry me off to a swineherd, or someone three times my age. He had only meant to frighten me into better behavior.

  That was what I told myself as I followed Sendra down the stairs. To be sure, my legs shook beneath me, but the heavy skirt of my silken gown did well enough to conceal my trembling. I held my head high, for I did not want to betray any weakness. If my father wished to give me a good scare, so be it. I would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing how much he had upset me.

  When I entered the great hall where my father received visitors, I saw him at once, standing at the bottom of the small dais that held his great carved audience chair. Next to him was a tall man with dark hair, neatly bound into a long tail at the base of his neck. Seeing the stranger, I felt myself relax somewhat. True, his clothes were simple enough — a shirt of homespun linen with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a vest of stained brown suede, breeches of brown wool that had been patched more than once. But even though his back was to me and I could not see his face, I was able to tell that he was tall and well built, with broad shoulders and long, strong legs. If my father truly intended to marry me off to a complete stranger, then better one who was not old and fat.

  As I approached, the stranger turned toward me slightly. Ah, gods, he was handsome, with a fine chin lightly dusted with dark stubble, and straight black brows over long-lashed dark eyes. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, although I couldn’t see how that was possible. I was fairly certain I would have remembered someone with such a striking countenance, even if he did happen to be a commoner.

  “Master Blackstone, this is the Lady Marenna, my only daughter. Marenna, this is Master Corin Blackstone. He came to the estate looking for work, for his specialty lies in vineyards and the harvesting of grapes. I told him our land was not suited for that type of farming, and he should head south and east. But I also told him of my wish to see you married.”

  I swallowed and glanced over at Master Blackstone. His expression was entirely neutral; I could not tell at all whether he found my person pleasing, or whether he was attempting to keep his face blank because he feared any kind of reaction at all might evoke an angry reaction from my father, so obviously his superior.

  Apparently not discomfited at all by the other man’s silence, my father went on, “He was startled at first, but then agreed…perhaps because I sweetened the pot by offering him fifty gold crowns to take you off my hands.”

  At that comment, my eyes widened — not with awe at my father’s generosity, but rather shock that he should sell me off so cheaply. True, it was a sum that a man such as Master Blackstone probably did not see in a six-month, but it was also a paltry amount compared to the dowry which should have been mine. I opened my mouth to protest, to say I was worth far more than that…and then shut it again. If this stranger was a man of such mean worth that fifty gold crowns seemed like a huge sum to him, then the last thing I wanted was to dangle my dowry in front of him. Besides, while that money should have gone with me upon my marriage, its disbursement lay entirely in my father’s hands. If he chose to withhold it, there was not a great deal I could do, save journey to Iselfex and throw myself upon the Emperor’s mercy. The odds of my doing so were not very high, since of course I did not have the means to make such a trip…not with my father holding the purse strings that trapped all of my money.

  “Indeed?” I said, not bothering to keep the disdain from my voice. “It is good to know that a baron’s only daughter can be had so cheaply.”

  My words seemed to amuse Master Blackstone, for he smiled — showing a set of very strong white teeth — and said, “Oh, that is only insurance against your future usefulness. You have very soft hands, my lady. May I assume that you have never worked in the fields?”

  “Of course not,” I retorted, indignant that he would even ask me such a thing. A lady of my station certainly would not lower herself in such a way. The extent of my own agricultural pursuits involved cutting such roses from the garden that I found pleasing, and not much else. “We have laborers for that sort of thing.”

  “Aye, and I am one of them, although it seems that there is no work for me here. We will have to journey hence in search of better prospects.”

  Although Master Blackstone still smiled as he spoke, I sensed that he was attempting to bait me, to make me protest this ridiculous match and say I would have nothing of it. However, my father had proved so cold and capricious over the last twenty-four hours, I knew I must not assert my independence for fear of facing even worse consequences. Although they had not been used for many years, we still had dungeons below the castle, even if these days they were used to store spare furniture and not much else. But what if I angered my father so much that he had me confined to one of those abandoned cells? Faced by that prospect, I thought that perhaps marriage to this commoner was a better fate. At least he was young and handsome.

  “I suppose so,” I said haughtily.

  “You must go and pack your things,” my father said then. “Not too many, of course, for you will have to carry everything yourself. Your maid can help you with the packing. By the time you are done, the priest should be here to perform the ceremony.”

  Those words, so casually spoken, struck cold fear into my heart. Up until that moment, I could have almost pretended this was a game, a torment devised by my father to teach me a lesson about my prideful behavior. But if he had already summoned a priest, then I knew this was no joke at all.

  Did I dare argue? Judging by the glitter in my father’s dark eyes, I guessed that would be the very worst thing I could do. Better to be a meek daughter, and do as I was told. Even though I was to be married off to this commoner, perhaps at some point my father would relent, would allow me back into his life. Marriage to a complete stranger seemed far more bearable if I could have my dowry back. We could purchase a modest estate somewhere, perhaps a place where Master Blackstone could grow his vines. My father had said that was this man’s field of knowledge, after all.

  “Yes, Father,” I said, then made a quick curtsey before turning to leave the hall. The whole time, Sendra had been waiting near the foot of the stairs, and now she followed me up the steps to my room, her face pale and stricken.

  “I cannot believe your father would do such a thing to you!” she exclaimed once we were safely inside my bedchamber and I had shut the door. “It is too cruel!”

  Privately, I was inclined to agree, and yet I knew that it would be better for me to remain silent on the subject than to utter the bitter truth of my angry heart. Instead, I shrugged, then said, “It is what he has decreed, and so I will not go against him.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed as she gave me a piercing look. “It is not at all like you to be so meek, my lady.”

  “In this
matter, I have not much choice but to be meek.”

  She still surveyed me, as though attempting to see into my soul and discover the true reason behind my odd behavior. “Well, Master Blackstone is quite handsome — ”

  Yes, he was. And thank all the gods for that. I did not know precisely what being married to someone entailed, although I believed that kissing was involved, and that at some later date, a baby might come along. I frowned then. Being the youngest of my family, and with my two brothers and their own families settled far enough away that they did not visit very often, I did not have much experience with infants, or small children. Ah, well. There was not very much I could do about the matter now.

  “And so I could have done much worse.” I went over to the wardrobe and opened the doors, then stared blankly inside. To be honest, I had no idea what on earth I should bring with me. My gowns were all made of silk and velvet, with embroidered trim accented in gold and silver thread, and pearls on a few of the finer dresses. Certainly there was not much I owned that seemed suitable for the rough life which loomed ahead of me.

  Apparently sensing my distress, Sendra hurried over to my side and began to briskly sort through the choices. “This green silk is plain enough, and you have your two linen gowns. You have only used them on the warmest summer days, but they will do to see you through most of the autumn. Perhaps you can ask your new husband” — she seemed to choke on the word, but forced herself to go on — “to get you some material so you might fashion a woolen gown for the winter.”