Chapter 6 #2
He set his jaw into a hard line, and the scar on his chin whitened. I applied the herbs to the wound then bound it, securing the bandage with a knot.
“I will need to see this wound again in case the infection spreads. Return tomorrow—the day after at the latest. You may go now.”
He nodded curtly before rolling his sleeve down. Without another word, he turned his back and left the room.
I was not summoned to the solar that night.
Initially, I was relieved to be left unmolested but as the night wore on and sleep eluded me, I lay, watching the dim light of my candle and felt nothing but an acute sense of loneliness.
Eventually, I fell asleep, my dreams disturbed by images of reddened, wounded flesh and a pair of vivid blue eyes.
I woke the next morning to the sound of Harwyn moving about in my chamber.
Though I rubbed my eyes, I could not dispel the weariness that had been encroaching on me in recent days, and I struggled to sit up.
Harwyn rushed over to help me out of bed, and she dressed me in silence while I drew in deep breaths to clear the fog that clouded my mind.
As soon as she had finished, I rose.
“Come, Harwyn, to the garden.”
We spent the morning collecting calendula flowers.
I had spotted their bright orange color in the garden and remembered how Maman had pointed them out to me at Shoreton, telling me of their healing properties.
I had helped her make salves and, though I was unsure of the exact method, I was confident that I could produce something far more effective in treating infected wounds than the herbs in my store.
When our baskets were full, we returned to my treatment room, and I sent Harwyn to the kitchens for oil, beeswax, and a large boiling pot, while I started to pick off the delicate petals.
She returned with everything we needed to make the salve, including jars for storage.
By the time the daylight began to fade, we had picked off all the petals and left them to soak in the oil in a bowl.
It was too late to start the process that would draw out the healing compound, so we left the petals steeping in the oil and tidied up the room.
It was only when we were about to leave that I noticed a piece of folded parchment under the doorframe. With a sigh of frustration, I picked it up and unfolded it, immediately recognizing the penmanship.
“Oh, lady, ’tis him again is it not?” Harwyn sighed. “You have gone as pale as a lily. What does he say?”
It was another poem extolling the beauty of my hair, likening it to the midnight black of a clear night sky. Again, he finished with a brief note of comfort, but what made me catch my breath was the final line.
I would have you write to me, dearest Lisetta. Let me know that you have not lost hope. I will await your answer by the seat in the rose garden when the sun sets tonight. Your loving friend and protector,
Tarvin de Fowensal.
He had asked me to respond! Not only that, he trusted me enough to reveal his name.
“Tarvin…” I breathed.
“Tarvin?” Harwyn said. “Is that his name?”
“Aye.”
Harwyn shook her head.
“There is no man of that name here,” she warned. “It must be a trap.”
“Perhaps he’s from outside the Fort,” I said. “Or mayhap it’s a false name. He risks much by writing to me.”
“Surely you’re not going to respond?”
“I must,” I said. “Not only can I ask him for help, this is also my chance to identify him. I will write a response, and you must keep watch to see who collects it.”
She shook her head, worry lines creasing her forehead. “It’s too risky, my lady.”
I took her hand.
“I need not write anything incriminating, Harwyn,” I said. “I still trust none but you.”
She sighed, knowing I would not be dissuaded. My beloved Harwyn would always do what I asked of her, no matter how foolish the request.
Immediately after supper, I heard Harwyn’s knock at my door. Anticipation and, hope swelling in my heart, I let her in.
“Did someone come for my note?”
I had no need to ask. The expression on her face said it all.
“Cedric.”
I knew of Cedric, a thin, ungainly boy who worked in the stables, with an almost permanent expression of terror in his eyes.
“We must speak to him,” I said. “Now.”
“Lady, I would beg you to take caution and…”
She broke off as I raised my hand. Then she sighed.
“Very well, but I’ll come with you.”
The stable yard was empty, though voices drifted across the evening air. As we approached the stalls where my mare was housed, a young lad emerged from behind the stables, carrying an armful of straw.
“Cedric, child,” Harwyn said. “We would speak to you.”
He stiffened and, on seeing me, he dropped the bundle. My heart ached to see the aura of terror surrounding his body.
Then the head groom appeared—a thick-set man, with dirty blonde hair thinning at the temples and a shaggy unkempt beard. He trampled across the yard, then stopped as he spotted the pile of straw in the mud. Clenching his mud-streaked hands into fists, he lumbered toward Cedric.
“Foolish, lazy boy!” he roared. “Do you want another beating?”
“No!” Harwyn cried.
The groom glanced toward us, hesitated for a heartbeat, then resumed his path toward the child.
I stepped forward, blocking his path.
“Stop that!” I said.
He paused and narrowed his eyes as he regarded me.
“The whelp is lazy and must learn obedience.”
“How dare you answer me so!” I snapped. “I gave you an order and expect it to be obeyed. Now leave us.”
“But my master—”
“I am your mistress,” I interrupted. “Go. Now. Or I’ll have you whipped.”
Cursing, he turned his back and returned to the stables, leaving Cedric alone. A thin, solitary figure, the boy stood in the mud, his eyes large in his malnourished face. Ashamed of my own cowardice, I looked at him coldly, too fearful of my own safety to show him any gesture of comfort.
I nodded to Harwyn who approached him.
“You are Cedric, are you not?”
The boy nodded, his eyes widening as he looked from Harwyn to me and back again.
“What has become of the note you took?” Harwyn said.
The poor child’s body began to shake and I feared his thin legs might crumple. He opened and shut his mouth but no sound came out. Then, trembling, he took a step back.
“I…I want no trouble, lady.”
“Remain where you are in the presence of your mistress,” Harwyn ordered.
I spoke softly to Harwyn so that only she could hear. “Harwyn, there is no one here to see us, or to punish us for a little kindness.”
Cedric shook his head. “H-he said he would beat me if I told.”
“Lord Mortlock will do far worse if you disobey your mistress’ orders,” Harwyn said. “I only have to tell—”
“Harwyn, that’s enough,” I interrupted.
A tear rolled down the boy’s cheek. The urge to make him feel protected was too strong, and I held my hand out to him, ignoring Harwyn’s protests.
“Tell us, child, and I shall not betray you. You have my word.”
He seemed more surprised at the softness in my voice than the fact I had spoken. Harwyn placed a warning hand on my arm as the boy nodded.
“I will show you, Mistress.”
He led us around the back of the stables and pointed to the wall.
“See the loose stone there, lady, the one covered in moss? I was told to put the letter there, behind the stone.”
“Told by whom?”
“I knew not. He came up from behind earlier today…told me what to do, then said he would kill me if I looked at him. So I kept my eyes shut.”
“And what did he tell you to do, child?” I said.
“That I must look for a letter by the rose bush, and hide it behind the stone.”
“When did you put it there?” Harwyn asked.
“Just now,” he replied, “before I went to fetch the straw.”
“Show us.”
Cedric ran to the wall and pulled out the stone. His cry of surprise was genuine.
“’Tis gone!”
There was nothing there.
“But that means…” my voice trailed off.
For the note to be gone already, whomever had taken it might have been present while we were speaking to Cedric. My eyes met Harwyn’s as the same thought crossed her mind. He might be watching us now.
“Leave us, child.”
I spoke sharply, eager for Cedric to be gone. Released from his obligation, he picked up the bundle of straw and sprinted off.
I glanced about, but there was no sign of anyone.
“Harwyn, do you think he might be…?”
“It’s best if you come away, lady,” my maid replied. “It’s getting late and your husband will be sending for you soon.”
“But, the note, the man who took it might…”
“There’s nothing you can do about the note now,” Harwyn said, taking my hand. “All we can do is pray that this man, whomever he is, did not set out to trap you, for that trap has now been sprung.”