Chapter Six
Ambra was awake.
Eggggggggggs!
Having seen five years in the spring, Ambra Cayatana de Sauque was vocal, demanding, and adorable, much like brother, Alfie. The two of them were two years apart in age, but together, they were quite a handful. A delightful handful, but a handful nonetheless.
Ama, I want yellow eggs!
Those were the first words Amabella heard when she opened the door to her red-haired, green-eyed daughter.
Her nurse, Savia, was a round Scottish woman with freckled skin and hair the color of dried grass.
The old woman came running up behind Ambra, huffing and puffing because the little one had gotten away from her.
Amabella bent over and scooped her daughter up, kissing her soft cheek.
“Yellow eggs, is it?” she said. “I will have to see if the cook still has some.”
That wasn’t good enough for Ambra. She put her little hands on her mother’s face, forcing the woman to look at her.
“She has them,” she said seriously. “I know she has them. She makes them just for me. The yellow eggs with the raisins in the middle.”
Amabella smiled at her daughter who was not only a glutton, but a gourmet glutton.
Unlike her older sister, who preferred simple and sweet things like honey puffs, Ambra loved finer foods that most children wouldn’t touch, hence her request for yellow eggs.
They were saffron-dyed, hard boiled eggs with a stuffing of yolk, raisins, cheese, and mint.
The flavors were strong, but Ambra loved them.
Amabella could see that she was destined to head to the kitchen for said eggs.
“Very well,” she said, kissing the girl one last time and setting her to her feet. “I will go get you the yellow eggs with the yellow things in the middle.”
“M’lady?” the old nurse was still standing by the door, glancing towards the staircase that led below. “Who is down in the lord’s solar? It sounds like men.”
Amabella’s smile faded. “It is,” she said. “Come in and close the door, Savia. While you were sleeping, the Earl of Berwick arrived. They are taking charge of Trastamara until Atlas can arrive.”
The old woman’s eyes widened. “And Shand?”
“I have been told he will no longer be a concern to us,” Amabella said softly, seeing the look of shock on Savia’s face.
“I do not know if they are sending him away or what they are doing, but he will no longer be an issue. Oh, Savia… I can hardly believe it. First, Roget and now Shand. Is it possible this hell we live in is finally over?”
The old nurse’s face turned red and her eyes watered. She stepped inside the room, wiping at her eyes as she closed the door softly.
“Is it truly possibly, m’lady?” she whispered. “Tae finally know peace. Tae finally know… I pray ’tis true.”
Amabella nodded, overcome with the very idea of it just as Savia was.
They’d lived so long in a cage, in a world where they didn’t matter, that to think that oppression was finally lifted was almost more than either of them could bear.
For Amabella, it had been considerably worse, but Savia had suffered on the fringes just the same.
“The Earl of Berwick is speaking to Shand, even now,” Amabella said. “Berwick’s son was just here and we spoke briefly. He knows I sent the missive to Berwick and he knows that Shand did not know about it. He promised to protect me.”
“From Shand?” Savia wiped at her eyes. “The man is a viper. He would have tae be a great knight, indeed, to protect ye from such a man.”
Amabella thought back to the extremely tall and extremely large knight that had so recently been in the chamber.
She’d never seen such a big man, with cropped dark hair, a shadow of a beard, and blue eyes that smoldered beneath dark brows.
To say the knight was handsome was an understatement; he was far more than that.
He was probably ten or twelve years younger than she was, a fine young man in his prime.
In fact, it did her heart good to have such a handsome, noble man pledge to protect her. It satisfied something deep, something kept beaten and buried by years of Roget’s disregard for her.
Was it possible she was worth protecting?
“Ama!” Ambra piped up again, cutting into her daydreams. “Yellow eggs!”
Sighing heavily, Amabella knew when she was beaten.
Her youngest would not quiet down until she had her yellow eggs and even though Amabella had promised Sir Markus that she would remain in her chamber and lock the door, he was also aware that she’d already asked permission to get her child something to eat.
That was the routine when Ambra awoke from her nap.
Amabella knew she could slip out to the kitchens and return before he even realized she had gone.
“Ama?” Aleanor spoke up. “I am hungry, too. Will you bring me something?”
Since her husband saw fit to strip her of servants except for a few kitchen servants and the nurse, it was common that Amabella fetched her children food or did any number of things servants usually did.
Living a life of leisure as the Lady of the Manor was something unknown to her, but the truth is she didn’t mind when it came to her children.
“Of course,” she said. “I will bring something for all of you, but you must remain here until I return, please. There are many soldiers out in the bailey and I do not want anyone falling into trouble.”
She meant Alfie, who was over by the hearth building a mighty castle with his sticks in an oddly quiet moment for him.
But he wasn’t paying any attention to her, so she turned for the door.
The moment she opened it, however, a big figure was coming off of the stairs in front of her.
It took her a moment to realize that it was Atlas.
Amabella’s mouth popped open in shock.
“Atlas!” she gasped. Then, she was running at him, throwing her arms around him. “Oh, Atlas! You are finally here!”
She hit him so hard that Atlas was in danger of falling back down the stairs. He had to grab the wall for support before righting himself and hugging his mother warmly.
“Ama,” he murmured, giving her a squeeze. “Aye, I’ve come. Did you think I would not?”
Amabella was close to tears as she hugged her first born. The moment was both joyful and surreal. As if she didn’t truly believe he would ever come until this very moment, the young man who would inherit an awesome and turbulent mantle.
She stood back, looking at him in awe.
“Look at you,” she said. “You have grown up since I last saw you. You are so tall!”
Atlas grinned. “I am certain I am taller than Roget.”
He had never been able to call his father anything but his given name. Even now, he spoke of the man as if he were a stranger, someone distant. Amabella put a hand up, gently touching his cheek.
“I know you are.”
Atlas was puffed up proudly as he caught sight of his siblings pouring through the open door.
Ambra was first, running towards them, followed by Alfie and finally Aleanor.
Ambra ran right to her mother, shy in the presence of her eldest brother whom she had only seen a handful of times since her birth and didn’t really know, but Alfie knew him.
He ran straight for Atlas and rammed into his legs.
“Atlas!” he shouted. “Look at me! I am big, too!”
Atlas crouched down beside his little brother, pulling the boy into his embrace. “King Alfie,” he said, affection in his tone. “I expected to see you outside with your horse guard. Do you still have one?”
Alfie allowed Atlas to hug him for about two seconds. After that, he was finished with the greeting and grabbed Atlas’ hand.
“I have a great guard,” he said, tugging. “Come and see them!”
Atlas laughed softly as his brother yanked on him, but Amabella put a hand out to stop Alfie from pulling his brother’s arm from the socket.
“In a moment, Alfie,” she said. “Atlas has only just arrived. Let us go into the solar and speak to him for a few moments. Would you not like to speak with your brother?”
Alfie was still yanking, only this time it was towards the open solar door. “Come inside,” he commanded. “Do you want to play with my sticks? I am building a castle.”
Atlas was still grinning as he allowed himself to be pulled into the chamber with his mother and sisters in tow. Amabella was holding Ambra as Aleanor tucked in behind her, shy from a brother she had hardly seen over the years. Alfie pulled Atlas over to his pile of sticks and forced him to sit.
Amabella simply shook her head.
“Alfie, your brother may not wish to play with your sticks,” she said. “Did you even ask him?”
Alfie looked at Atlas as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “You do want to play, don’t you?”
Atlas lowered himself onto the floor. “Of course I do,” he said, picking up several sticks. “I do not have much of a chance to build at Castle Questing. I am always working.”
Amabella sat down in the chair nearest her boys, propping Ambra on her lap. “You look fine, Atlas,” she said. “They do not work you too hard there, do they?”
Atlas shook his head. “Nay,” he said, focusing on putting a new floor on Alfie’s castle. “I am quite content there. My master, Tobias, says I will be a great knight someday. I will be a tribute to the Abril dynasty.”
He was speaking of Amabella’s family, not the House of de Sauque, in yet another display of his animosity towards his father. Even as a young boy, Atlas treated his father like a stranger, but Roget was to blame for that. He’d never shown much interest in his eldest son.
There was history there, and none of it good.
“You are already a fine tribute to your family,” she said quietly. “We are all very proud of you.”