Chapter Five
To the scent of rot and the sounds of sick men’s laborious breathing, Emelisse had fallen asleep, her head against the slick stone wall of the vault. She was cold and hungry, but her weariness superseded her other needs for the moment. Sleep was what she needed most.
To sleep and forget.
When next she realized, a soft female voice was filling her senses.
She awoke with a start.
“All is well, my lady,” a woman said, a warm hand on her arm to calm her. “Hurry, now. Help her to stand. We must remove her quickly.”
Suddenly, Emelisse was being pulled to her feet.
She was so exhausted and disoriented that she had no idea what was going on until she caught a glimpse of a rather plain woman in a wildly ornate gown.
She had jewels around her neck, on her ears, and in her hair, and it seemed so very strangely out of place in the filth of the vault. Emelisse looked at her, blinking.
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered. “Who are you?”
The woman simply smiled at her. It wasn’t an attractive gesture, but it was a kind one. Before Emelisse realized it, she was pulled from the cell by several well-dressed female servants, up that treacherous stairwell, and out into the night beyond.
The icy air of winter hit her like a slap to the face.
She was a little more lucid now, enough to notice that she was being quickly moved by at least four servants from what she could see.
The bejeweled woman was moving swiftly beside her, making sure her servants were huddled around Emelisse like a shield, urging them to move very quickly.
She kept looking around nervously, which told Emelisse that she was afraid of being seen. It was very confusing.
What in the world is going on?
The servants took her in through a kitchen yard, which was vast and well-kept.
The sharp animal smells assaulted her nose.
The clouds had rolled in sometime during the day, covering up the moon, so the only light was from the torches on the wall of the fortress and the fires in the kitchen yard.
They came up behind the keep and in through a door built into the lower level.
It was dark in there, smelling of straw and grain.
Emelisse didn’t sense danger or hazard from the women, which was why she was so willing to go with them.
Anything was better than that hellish vault and they seemed to want to help her.
Someone lit a pair of tapers and they hurried up a spiral staircase built into the wall of the keep, a narrow thing just like the staircase that led from the vault.
Up and up they seemed to go, higher and higher, until they finally emerged onto a landing.
“Hurry,” the well-dressed woman urged softly. “Take her in there.”
She was pointing and the servants moved swiftly.
Emelisse was pulled into a larger chamber, through it, and into a smaller chamber off to the side.
It was there that her flight came to a halt and the bejeweled woman with the taper shut the door behind them and bolted it.
Holding up a taper to get a better look at Emelisse, she studied her for a moment before speaking.
“Forgive me for the swiftness of our actions, my lady, but it was necessary,” she said softly. “You are Emelisse de Thorington?”
Emelisse looked apprehensively to the women around her before answering. “I am.”
The women nodded. “I am Alice, Lady de Wrenville,” she said. “Covington is my husband.”
Emelisse wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She looked around at the serving women again, a small army who had moved her out of the vault, and she began to grow fearful and defensive now that she knew who the woman was.
Was she about to face a fate worse than the vault?
“Why have you brought me here?” she asked. “If your husband has sent you to interrogate me, then I will give you the same answers I have given him.”
Alice shook her head. “You misunderstand,” she said.
“You do not belong in the vault, even if you are a prisoner of war. You will be held in this chamber, but you will be made comfortable and treated as a lady should be treated. I do not like that my husband put you in that terrible vault and if it was not for Hallam, I would not know anything of it.”
“Hallam?”
“Hallam Chadlington. My husband’s knight.”
Emelisse wondered if she was referring to the knight who took her to the vault and a wave of shock rolled over her.
He didn’t believe she belonged there, as he’d told her, but duty had dictated that he obey his liege.
But he’d said nothing about going to Lady de Wrenville with the situation, who was probably the only person in Winterhold who could contest or even amend her husband’s wishes.
The power of the Lady of the Castle was not to be underestimated under most circumstances.
Both shocked and relieved at the turn of events, Emelisse began to relax.
“You are gracious, Lady de Wrenville,” she said. “Your kindness is appreciated.”
Alice eyed her for a moment before turning to her servants and issuing a quiet series of orders – food, clothing, bedding, and a bath were being discussed and as the five women huddled together, hissing and whispering, Emelisse tore her gaze away from them to look at her surroundings.
She was in a small chamber at the very top of the keep, she assumed, because the ceiling was wooden and vaulted.
There were beams overhead and beyond that, the pitched roof, which was actually quite low.
It gave the chamber a cramped feeling. A small but empty bed was shoved against the wall along with capcases, trunks, and a wardrobe that had seen better days.
Clearly, it was a storage chamber or servant’s alcove considering they had passed through a larger chamber to reach it.
Whatever it was, it was peaceful and chilly.
And very barren. Emelisse hugged her arms against her body as she looked at the small hearth, dark and cold.
As she wondered if she would be permitted to have a fire, the servants fled and Lady de Wrenville shut the door behind them, bolting it.
Everything was suddenly still and awkward with only the two of them in the small chamber. The servants had taken one taper with them, leaving the other one for Lady de Wrenville. When her gaze locked with Emelisse’s, she smiled wanly.
“You shall have warmth and food soon enough, my lady,” she said. “I do apologize this is the best I can do for now, but it is best this way so my husband will not find you.”
Emelisse eyed the woman in the darkness. “But if he goes looking for me in the vault, I will not be there.”
Lady de Wrenville snorted softly. “My dear, he would never set foot in that vault,” she said. “He only knows what he is told. Hallam knows I have you, so if my husband wishes to see you, Hallam will come for you. You needn’t worry about Covington simply showing up.”
Emelisse could sense a hint of disapproval in Lady de Wrenville’s voice when she spoke of her husband. Or perhaps it was even loathing.
Anything was possible when it came to Covington de Wrenville.
Though the woman was closing in on middle age, she was still too young to have a son the age of Marius.
Although Emelisse had only met Marius twice, both times when they were younger, she knew he was older than she was by a few years.
Lady de Wrenville didn’t look old enough to have given birth to a man of Marius’ age.
The situation was a little perplexing. But then she recalled that de Wrenville’s wife had died years ago. All that had happened was muddling her mind.
“May… may I ask why you should do this, my lady?” Emelisse asked. “You are going against your husband and I should not wish to get you into trouble with him. My trouble is my own, though as I said, your kindness is appreciated.”
Lady de Wrenville didn’t say anything right away. She walked over to one of the two windows in the chamber, both of them shuttered, and released the fasten on the shutters. She pulled them back, allowing frozen air into the chamber, but it was also fresh air, cleaning out the staleness of the room.
“Clouds are gathering,” she said, looking up at the sky. “Mayhap it shall snow. It has been a mild winter, though not having been at Winterhold very long, I would not know if this is normal. Someone told me that it makes its own weather, which is why they call it Winterhold.”
As Lady de Wrenville stood at the window, Emelisse studied her a little more. Her clothing was quite beautiful and quite expensive, her hair carefully arranged. Everything about her screamed of money and breeding, but in her simple statement, Emelisse gathered that the woman was new to Winterhold.
New to the House of de Wrenville.
A new wife?
“It is the mountains to the east that make their own weather,” Emelisse said after a moment. “Sometimes, we have storms where there should not be one. Where did you live before?”
Lady de Wrenville turned to her. “Dudley Castle,” she said. “It is south of here.”
“Is that where you were born?”
“Aye,” Lady de Wrenville said. “Where I was born and where I was certain I would remain until my recent marriage to Covington. Do I not appear old for a new bride? Surely that is what you are thinking. It is true, however. I do not fault you.”
Emelisse shook her head. “You do not look old for a new bride,” she said, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I saw a bride once who had grandchildren. It was her second marriage.”