Authors: Lori Snow
Though
they were careful not to stare, the others waited to see what transpired.
Isabeau waited as well. Would the old woman accept or plunder the boundaries
Isabeau had just issued?
Granya
huffed but she hobbled to the door, leaning heavily on her cane. Just as she
swung the door away from the wall, a black and brown whirlwind blew into the
room. Though Isabeau was sure the dog never touched either the old woman or the
door, Granya screeched and plastered her thin body against the door. “Auck!”
she screamed.
“Jaffey!
No!” Isabeau commanded firmly with one hand extended palm out. “Sit!”
Isabeau
was as surprised as everyone else when the huge dog obeyed and sat quietly if
not restfully at her feet. The expression in his eyes as he stared up at her
made Isabeau melt under the warmth of adoration. How could a canine face hold
such emotion? She could see the puppy now and remembered the afternoons
spent gamboling the fields and paths with young Christian—a sturdy little boy
with no fear, full of curiosity.
She
leaned down—nose-to-nose—when she glimpsed a flurry of motion in the corner of
her eye; a sight she had endured only days ago at the hands of her brother—one
she thought to leave behind at Olivet.
She
saw an arm welding a stick lifted high to strike a vicious blow. She sat back
into time to see Granya about to bring her raised cane down across Jaffey’s
back.
Isabeau
reared up in rage, thinking of pain from bruises and welts; of Caitlin’s
bloodied back. “Stop!” Even as Isabeau called out, Maisie grabbed the witch’s
arm and Dorcus blocked the dog with her body.
Granya
railed against the restraining arms. “That vile creature has no business to be
in the castle, let alone Countess Marta’s rooms. The evil beast should be
destroyed! It should not have been allowed near the boy.”
When
Jaffey turned a snarl on the struggle, Isabeau dropped to her knees and flung
her arms around his shoulders, providing protection from Jaffey’s retaliation
for more than his own sake. “Quiet.” Isabeau snarled at the straining woman and
then repeated the command in a softer tone to the dog. “Quiet, there’s a good
boy.” She stroked the shiny black ruff under his chin as she found her own
peace.
When
her shaking knees could hold her, she stood. Her palm spread atop the black
head, she offered Jaffey a few scratches behind his ears. Even sitting on his
haunches, his head came above her waist. Isabeau shook her head. Granya seemed
to have no concept of the damage Jaffey’s jaws could have wrought. Had the old
woman behaved outrageously for such a long time that she knew no borders?
“These
chambers no longer belong to Countess Marta, may God shelter her soul,” Isabeau
started in a controlled voice. She could feel tightness in her throat but
fought against the knot. “The earl brought Jaffey from across the channel as a
gift to his beloved son, Lord Christian. He is not evil nor is he a beast. He
shall come and go within the castle as he wishes. If he wants to sleep at my
feet he is welcome. If Caitlin wants to sing from the foremost tower, she is
free to do as
she
wishes. She can make her home in any room in the
castle as is her pleasure. Do you understand, Granya?”
Granya
merely glared with her little gimlet stare, her eyes almost disappearing in her
wrinkles. Isabeau quirked her eyebrow at the mutinous turn of Granya’s thin
lips.
“Dame
Granya, do you understand?” Isabeau stood as tall as her bare feet allowed, as
commanding as she could be, clothed only in her linen shift. “If you wish to
continue to wallow in your bitterness and grief, then by all means do so.
However—and I mean this—you will do so without raised voice or raised hand. If
you can not live by the Bennington rules, then I am sure the earl can be
persuaded to find other accommodations for you.” She was not sure of any such
thing but she was prepared to weld any threat as a weapon against the old
woman’s maliciousness. “You may go, Dame Granya.”
“Jeffrey?”
The masculine sing-song hail floated into the room, breaking the heavy silence.
“Jeffrey, a moi.” The chant grew louder.
“Caitlin?”
“Yes,
milady.” The girl even bobbed in a curtsy.
Isabeau
winced. She had not meant to frighten everyone. “Would you mind intercepting
Felix before he gets here? Inform him Jaffey will be keeping us company. I
will speak with him directly when I am more presentable.”
Still
holding the brush, the girl nodded before moving towards the door.
“Oh,
Caitlin, sweetie,” Isabeau called with an afterthought, “See that Dame Granya
closes the door as she leaves. I trust you to handle the task.”
She
watched as a smile twitched over Caitlin’s lips and Maisie valiantly suppressed
a snigger. She seemed to have acquired an ally along with the enemy. She would
have to wait to see how deep the sword of the enemy could cut.
Granya
made no move to leave. They could all hear Felix approaching.
“Dorcus,
could you assist Granya to her new chamber?” Isabeau asked after letting out a
deep breath. She needed to continue as she started. “The excitement of
defending me from Jaffey has exhausted her. She needs to rest until the evening
meal. If she had not recovered by then mayhap a green pottage could be sent to
her? A woman of her advanced years should be treated with the respect she
has earned.”
When
Granya began to sputter in protest, Isabeau tilted her head in mock
consideration. “Perhaps your strength has failed you, Granya? Shall I
have a man called to carry you? I am sure Felix is within hearing.”
“I’ll
just go see.” Dorcus volunteered.
“I
do not think that will be necessary.” Isabeau shook her head. “Do you think it
necessary, Granya?”
The
only answer was the repeated heavy clunk of Granya’s cane tip on the floor as
Dorcus led her to the door where Caitlin now waited in the corridor, a strip of
leather in her hand.
Breathless,
her cheeks flushed, she nipped in as soon as the others had cleared the sill.
She pulled the door almost shut. “Dame Granya? Lady Isabeau asked you to close
the door.”
The
old woman separated Dorcus and herself from those in the room, shutting the
door with
a less resounding noise than when she
entered.
Caitlin
she gave Isabeau the leather strip, realizing she still held the brush in her
other hand.
“What’s
this?” Isabeau asked as she looked from the leather up to Caitlin’s face. She had
noticed how the girl had skipped sprightly across the room. The verbal battle
with Granya was worth the smile that was almost curving Caitlin’s lips.
“’Tis
Jeffrey’s…”
“Jaffey,”
Isabeau corrected firmly. “His name is Jaffey, the name Christian gave him. It
is the name he will be called by from here on.”
“ ’Tis
Jaffey’s lead.” Caitlin carefully
recited. “Felix said ‘t’will come in handy when it comes time to take him for a
run.”
Isabeau
laughed. “I’m sure it will. He’ll run and he’ll drag me anywhere he likes.”
“Felix
said J – Jaffey is well trained to the leash and he will teach you the commands
when you wish but…”
“But,
what?” Isabeau plopped down on the stool.
“It
has been many months since the last time Jaffey was in the castle proper. Felix
worried he would piss on your floor.”
“Oh,”
Isabeau giggled. “Jaffey is much bigger now than when Christian brought him to
Olivet. I imagine his messes are much—bigger. Oh, well.” She shrugged as she
turned to Caitlin with a wry grin. “Will you help me be vigilant now that I
have given Jaffey the run of the castle?”
Caitlin
nodded, her eyes sparkling. A smile almost curved her lips. For her full grin,
Isabeau would gladly clean up any number of Jaffey’s puddles.
Isabeau
patted the dog on his head. “Father Fredrich would say mopping up Jaffey’s
messes would be just penance for my temper tantrum.”
Laughter
rolled out of Maisie. “There be plenty willin’ to tend to the hound’s
needs for yer ladyship. Ya don’ let it worry ya. Let the little lass finish
brushin’ yer curls. The bells will be ringing sexts ‘fore we turn ‘round.”
Maisie’s
words proved prophetic. The bells marking midday sounded not long after Isabeau
emerged from her chamber with a small procession close at her heels. If not for
the tugs Jaffey gave his lead, she would have felt like a mother duck leading
her brood.
She
found Felix nervously pacing the path between the great hall and the kitchens.
After assuring the man no harm had been done, she repeated her declaration to
allow Jaffey free run of the castle -- with the exception of the kitchens. She
did not think it would be a good idea to have the giant animal under foot or
close to the temptation of food.
Isabeau
chewed her lip. Should she have asked Donovan before giving Jaffey run of his
home? No, she needed to begin to act as a countess if she was ever to be happy
at Bennington. After her bedraggled arrival and very public disaster that
morning she had much ground to recover to successfully take over the reins of
the castle.
Then
she remembered the ‘treasures.’
Simon
and his man Arneau rode into the yard of the inn, the Broken Wheel, at mid-day.
He still seethed at Bennington’s treatment of him. It had been a miserable
ride. The rain had greeted him part way through their journey. It had dripped
down his back, making his clothes clammy and dank.
Arneau
stabled their horses while Simon splashed through puddles to reach the roaring
fire inside. Smoke belched from the open fireplace. Dropping his sodden cloak
he shouted for a warm posset. Cursing, he hoped they had something decent to
drink. His anger had continued to build as he suffered the discomfort of
weather and the poor inn.
His
bitch of a wife would suffer for whining to Kirney about Isabeau.
Kirney
need not have known the situation. He would have dealt with the problem in his
own time. Now he was setting in this God forsaken inn waiting for Forrester,
Kirney’s messenger. Simon knew of Forrester’s arrogance. Kirney’s lackey
thought he was better than the lord d/Olivet. In time he would bring that man
to his rightful place.
This
was all Donovan’s fault. Syllba was fast enough suggesting plans, but she
wasn’t the one waiting here. It was easy enough for her to say ‘kidnap Isabeau
and deliver her to Kirney,’ but
he
was the one expected to do it. Simon
had planned to deal with Donovan first, but now that Kirney was involved he
would have to change his plans.
“Innkeeper,
another posset and add more wine to it. This weather is enough to drive a man
to his grave.”
Arneau
entered and shook himself like a dog. Simon flicked his wrist toward Arneau.
“Order food and wine and a room for the night. I’ll not go out into the weather
again this day.” Turning to the angled corner near the fire, Simon pulled out a
bench and slouched down.
Arneau
joined Simon with fresh drinks. In moments a buxom wench carried out the first
wooden platters of food. The food was no better than the posset but at least it
was hot. They ate in silence as steam rolled off their shoulders. A disturbance
turned their attention to the door.
Forrester
and three knights filled the opening. Kirney’s man glanced around the darkened
room and signaled his men to the opposite corner.
The
innkeeper rushed forward to welcome these new guests. He practically touched
the floor in his greeting. “My lord, welcome.”
Ignoring
the man, Forrester stepped to Simon’s table, “Olivet.”
“Lord
Olivet, to you. What word do you bring from Kirney?” Lifting his mug, Simon
drank deep.
Forrester
stared at Arneau.
Arneau
took the hint and moved across the room to join the other men.
Forrester
sat in Arneau’s place and pushed the dirty utensils aside. “My Lord Kirney is
not happy. There are rumors that the Lady Isabeau is now betrothed to
d’Allyonshire and no longer at Olivet.
”
Simon slammed down his mug. “All is under control. Bennington took me by
surprise. I have a plan. D’Allyonshire’s marriage will not take place. I’ll
have my sister back by the end of the week. Tell our mutual friend that all
will end as he wishes.”
“The
final outcome will determine your alliance.” Standing, Forrester said, “I leave
you now. My lord awaits your resolution. We spend this night with Lord
William.”
“You
wish to visit the solar, milady?” Caitlin’s cheeks bloomed. Isabeau hoped the
color came more from happiness than embarrassment. Did the maid know what they
would find there?
The
meal was over. Isabeau gave Caitlin’s sleeve a playful tug towards the doorway.
“Let’s make haste before we are spied by yet another. I suddenly have a cat’s
curiosity to discover what comprised our seats in the wagon yesterday. By the
by, just where is the solar?”
“This
way, milady.” With a youthful spurt of energy, Caitlin nipped around Isabeau to
lead the way. “I thought to help with your ladyship’s things but Carstairs said
I was to be with you.”
This
time, when Caitlin raced up the stairs with Isabeau following, she was not
attempting avoidance. She paused at the landing to be sure Isabeau kept up with
her. Shadows filled the cool corridor and Isabeau was grateful for the
occasional lit sconces. Just as her eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness,
Caitlin pushed open a door and blinding light flooded Isabeau’s vision.
The
spacious room was a solar in every sense of the word and purpose. Windows
allowed the sun’s rays to reach every corner. Wooden shutters were ready to
cover the openings in inclement weather. A fire was laid, if not set, in the
large fireplace as a silent testament that the room would be a comfortable
haven year round. Beautiful rugs scattered the floor and tapestries covered
much of the stone walls.
Isabeau
knew she would take pleasure in every moment she could visit this sanctuary.
She could read, sew and embroider without the necessity of burning precious
tapers or straining her eyes.
But
what captured Isabeau’s immediate attention were the chests and bundles stacked
in piles in the center of the floor.
“Oh
my,” she let out a puff of breath that had nothing to do with the climb up the
steep stairs. She turned to Caitlin. “All of this came from Olivet?”
Caitlin
nodded.
“Oh
my,” Isabeau repeated. “I had no thought. Was anything left behind?”
Caitlin
shrugged absently.
Isabeau
put her hands on her hips and surveyed the parcels. Though mounded high, she
could see care had been given to the placement. “We’ll need a wax tablet and
stylus. I would appreciate it if you keep the list while I open the bundles. I
would not know where to put things just yet but the floor needs cleared. I
think this will be a wonderful place for us to occasionally escape the chaos of
the castle. We must fight the temptation to spend too much time here.”
“Milady?”
Caitlin had edged away and little pleasure remained on her white face.
“Yes?”
Isabeau answered distractedly as she picked up a cloth wrapped bundle tied in
twine.
“I
don’na know…”
“Eldred
will be sure to have a tablet. I’ll begin here.” She tackled the knot while she
absorbed Caitlin’s sidling towards the door. She sighed when she revealed the
contents of the bundle to be several of her father’s books.
“I
canna help ya.” Caitlin whimpered as if struck.
Isabeau
straightened, turning all her attention towards the girl. “What is the
matter? Is your back paining you? I should have changed the
bandages before the mid-day meal.”
“Nay.”
Bright pink splotches formed on the ashen cheeks. “No pain.”
“Then
what troubles you?”
“I
knew
I
could'na help a countess!” Caitlin wailed.
“Goodness,
of course you can help me. I thought we were done with this.”
“I
canna keep yer lists, milady. I canna write nair read.”
Isabeau
blinked in surprise. She should have thought of the probability. Learning
to
read and write would have been an unnecessary luxury for a
farmer’s daughter. “We will just have to teach you to read and write. In the
meantime, I will keep the lists while you open the parcels.”
This
time Caitlin blinked as she tried to hold back the tears glistening in her blue
eyes. “Truly? I can still be in your service? But will the earl
wish me to waste time learnin’?”
Isabeau
shook her head. “Donovan would not think it a waste. Malak learned at Donovan’s
instigation.”
“But
Malak is the earl’s messenger -- and a male.”
“The
earl will see the value of having another able to keep accounts and write
communications.” Isabeau sounded more positive than she actually felt but she was
not about to reveal any doubts to the girl. She waved her hands at Caitlin to
shoo her to the door. “Go get the wax tablet and stylus so we can begin. This
inventory may last till the evening bells.”
Caitlin
had barely crossed the threshold when Isabeau heard a familiar thump echo from
the corridor. She felt her lashes flicker with renewed anger when Caitlin gave
a noticeable gasp of surprise.
“Dame
Granya, I dinna see you.”
“Is
she
in the
countess’
room?” The old woman punctuated her demand
with another thump of her cane.
“Aye.”
Caitlin moved back over the door sill. “I will just inform her ladyship you
wish to see her.”
Isabeau
clamped her lips between her teeth to prevent a blasphemous retort. She had
spent enough time on the woman’s vitriol. Curling her fingers in her skirts,
she sighed before calling out in false welcome. “Do come in, Granya.”
“I
bring a message from the earl.” She declared haughtily. “The earl be wantin’
you in his strong room. You best hurry.” The condensation in the woman’s voice
bordered on contempt and chilled Isabeau to the bone.
“Thank
you for delivering the message.” Isabeau tilted her chin. “I was just about to
find my way to my betrothed, as it happens. He wishes to be wed in Bennington’s
chapel. We have much to discuss. I will just be on my way.”
She
followed the old woman into the corridor and closed the solar door. While
Granya slowly hobbled down the hall, Isabeau made her own path. She prayed she
headed in the correct direction. The vindictive woman would not be so bold as
to lead her future mistress astray, but neither would she correct Isabeau
should she take the wrong path on her own.