Chapter Seven #3
Leaning forward, she touched the freckles, thinking they weren’t as dark as they used to be when she was younger, but to her, they were still quite obvious. And ugly. Everyone said so. Only a woman with pure and clear skin was considered beautiful.
Maybe Cassius had bad eyesight.
Even so… his words had meant something.
Dacia had never been called beautiful in her life. She was so very puzzled why Cassius would say such a thing to her. It had been unsolicited. He’d just come out with it. But he’d heard about the nurse, about her freckles, so he knew something of her embarrassing history.
But mayhap… mayhap… she could try something to ease those marks.
With her nurse gone, there was no one to tell her that they were penitence.
There was no one to make her feel ugly and harassed by demonic forces.
It had been a habit to cover up her face, to hide behind those veils, but the truth was that she hated it even if she was resigned to it.
But maybe she didn’t need to be.
Cassius was the first man she had ever met who took the time to give her a little unexpected hope.
With that thought, she went to the cabinet that held all of the treatises and books that the old priest had given her before he’d returned to his monastery in Lincoln.
She was a collector of these things, but kept them tucked away.
It was considered unseemly for a woman to collect books, and with her freckles already creating an undesirable issue, she felt compelled to hide one more unbecoming trait away from the world.
Reverently, she pulled them forth.
From the pages of these leather-bound, hand-painted books came recipes for so many things, but she was looking for something in particular – recipes to banish unsightly skin blemishes.
Onion and garlic were recommended, mixed with vinegar, as were various herbs and roots.
She’d seen these recipes before in the quest for mixing certain potions to help with the sick that she’d been called upon to tend, but she hadn’t paid any attention to them until now.
Even as she looked through the books, she felt guilty.
Guilt that her old nurse had instilled within her, that old woman who had believed in omens and demons and insisted that fae roamed the land.
Ironically, the woman’s name had been Mother Mary, the name of Christ’s mother, the most holy woman in Christendom.
But Mother Mary believed in the worst far more than she had faith in the good.
Thumbing through her books, she found six recipes that had to do with correcting blemished skin, but they were all for unsightly eruptions, which Dacia never had.
She was looking for something specifically to remove or ease freckles.
Towards the end of a book translated from an old Arabic treatise, she began to find what she was looking for.
From Adnan, apothecary to Sultan Bakir ibn Faizon, she found several recipes.
Wheat flour, dragonwort, and vinegar, boiled together, and then smeared upon the skin shall remove blemishes and spots.
Or…
Buttermilk mixed with flour, applied as a paste, shall fade freckles.
Or…
Cut a lemon in half and rub the halves upon the skin to eliminate skin spots.
Dacia read all of the recipes she could find, but those three seemed to be the least radical.
She drew the line at smearing the blood of her enemies on her freckles.
She knew she could find the ingredients and was willing to give them a try.
To the devil with her nurse’s superstitions and the guilt she had thrown over her charge like a weighted blanket.
Dacia was going to shrug off that blanket, push past the superstition, and step out into the light.
All because Cassius de Wolfe had called her beautiful.
It was amazing what just a few words could accomplish.
Dacia knew where some dragonwort grew, down by the river’s edge, so she quickly changed out of the clothing she had worn all night and into something more functional.
As two of the maids helped her, she donned a simple garment made from very fine lamb’s wool.
It was the color of cornflower, almost the exact color of her eyes, gathered under the breasts and flowing freely below.
It even had two big pockets sewn into it that Dacia’s maids had stitched honeybees on.
With her hair in a braid and no veils on her face because she would slip in and out through the postern gate, Dacia left her maids behind and headed out to find the dragonwort.
It was, literally, the beginning of a new day.
*
“And you are certain of this, Cassius?” Doncaster said seriously. “A Flemish mercenary?”
In Doncaster’s solar that smelled of leather and smoke from a chimney that liked to back up into the chamber, Cassius faced an old man who suddenly looked older just in the course of the short conversation.
Once he’d been told that what he thought was a manageable adversary had evidently hired professional and deadly soldiers in the land dispute, the lines on his face became ten years deeper.
“Am I certain that the bloody lion is Marcil’s banner?
” Cassius said. “Aye, I am certain. But I was not here during the attack last night, so I did not see the tunics that du Bois and de Shera saw. However, they would not lie and they are not fools. I would trust them both with my life a thousand times over. If they said they saw Clabecq’s bloody lion, then they did. ”
Doncaster looked as if he’d just been hit in the gut. He suddenly slumped, staring off into the chamber as he pondered what he’d been told. A mood seem to settle, something uncertain and edgy, and Cassius glanced at Darian, who lifted his eyebrows as if to confirm what they all knew.
They had a problem.
“I must speak to Hagg,” Doncaster finally said. “In the past, we were never enemies, but we were never allies, either. I must speak to the man and discover if this is the truth. This entire situation has gone far enough.”
It was clear by the expression on Darian’s face that he didn’t think that was a good idea. “Your grace,” he said, frowning. “If the man is hiring mercenaries, then it is past the negotiation stage. He means to destroy us.”
Doncaster shook his head. “There is always room for talking, Darian,” he said patiently.
He looked up at the four big seasoned knights standing around him.
“I am a man of peace. I have always been a man of peace. I keep a big army because I have much to protect, but to go to war? That is another matter altogether. If I can make peace with my neighbor through talking, then I shall do so.”
Darian looked at the man as if he had lost his mind. “He wants the disputed land,” he said. “At least, he did. Now he seems to want everything you have, too. How do you think he will agree to make peace, your grace?”
Doncaster eyed his knight, perhaps a bit unhappily. “Mayhap I shall agree to share the disputed land with him,” he said. “He cannot have it all, but I will share it.”
“But he may want more, your grace. What more are you willing to concede?”
Doncaster cocked his head thoughtfully. “I do not know,” he said. “I know that he has a son. If the lad is not married, mayhap a marriage will seal the peace. I have Dacia to bargain with, you know.”
“Nay!”
Both Darian and Cassius shouted the word at the same time before looking at each other in surprise. In fact, everyone was looking at them in surprise. Chagrinned, Cassius held up a hand.
“Your grace, a marriage to the son of the man who has been harassing you would only be condemning your granddaughter to a life of misery,” he said evenly.
“I have seen marriages like that and it is the women who suffer. I am sure you do not wish your granddaughter to suffer. Moreover, if you marry her to Hagg’s son, he shall become the Duke of Doncaster.
Is that who you want to entrust your legacy to? ”
Doncaster seemed to ponder that suggestion as if he hadn’t considered it at all. Then he shook his head. “I suppose not,” he said. “But I will speak with Catesby nonetheless.”
Cassius, like Darian, didn’t think that was a good idea. He sought to drive that point home where Darian hadn’t.
“Your grace, he has already made his intentions known,” he said.
“The Flemish mercenaries are here and even if you try to negotiate with Hagg, those mercenaries are going to want some kind of payment. Hagg may agree to peace, but the mercenaries will not and they will more than likely go on a rampage on your lands for what they will consider just compensation. This is not a situation where you can simply will peace to happen.”
“Then what do you suggest, Cassius?”
Cassius cleared his throat softly. “I realize you will not like my suggestion, but for your own sake, you must consider it, your grace,” he said.
“You must reinforce your ranks and you must hit Hagg before his mercenaries have a chance to move on Edenthorpe. Destroying them is the only option at this point. If you do not, they will destroy you.”
Doncaster sat back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as he mulled over the advice.
He was an old man and, like most old men, all he wanted was peace.
He wanted to sit in front of the fire and read his books, and not have to worry about his safety or the safety of his fortress.
This conflict with Hagg had been both unexpected and unwelcome, and the fact that it was escalating did not please him.
Now, Edward’s Lord Protector was suggesting more military action.
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“I do not know if I want to strike first,” he finally said. “That makes me look like the aggressor. That is not how I want to live out the remainder of my life, as an aggressor attacking neighbors.”