Chapter Ten
Morning came and Prudhoe’s army had not returned from Hexham.
Lord Richard seemed unconcerned with his absent army but Carington was so edgy that she could not eat her breakfast. As was customary when the army was not at residence within Prudhoe’s walls, the occupants of the castle were allowed to the great hall to break their fast, but afterwards were directed to stay in their bolted chambers and the entire fortress was locked down.
Very little activity could be seen, mostly the remaining soldiers on the walls and a few servants dashing from place to place.
And because of the lockdown, the papal legate was unable to leave.
He was imprisoned in the keep just like everyone else.
Carington remained locked in her chamber with Kristina and Julia.
She was dressed in one of her new surcoats, a pale yellow lamb’s wool that fit her body like the skin of a grape.
It was incredibly flattering, bordering on indecent, but she only knew that it was soft and warm.
She never noticed the stares of Richard or a few male servants during the morning meal.
She was simply thrilled to be in something other than rags.
Thankfully, Julia had kept silent for the most part during the sequestered existence in their chamber, still working on a great piece of embroidery that was strapped to a large frame.
She was very good at sewing and Carington would occasionally glimpse at the ambitious work.
But her attention would always return to the window next to her bed, gazing over the lush Northumbrian landscape for any signs of the returning army.
She sat for what seemed like hours. The nooning meal came and went, brought to them by a couple of serving women who provided them with a wide array of fruit, cheese and bread.
But Carington hardly touched it, even when Kristina brought her a lovely apple and a great hunk of white cheese.
Carington thanked the pale-haired lass kindly but she simply was not hungry.
So Kristina returned to her section of the chamber, brought forth a great deck of colorfully painted cards, and came back to sit on the bed next to Carington.
Carington eyed the colorful cards as the girl carefully organized them. “What is it ye have there?” she asked.
Kristina began to carefully lay them out on the coverlet. “These are fortune cards. They can tell your fortune.”
Carington smiled faintly at the thought of a piece of wood divining the future. But she was willing to play along. “Did they tell ye that ye would be sealed up with me in a room today?”
Kristina giggled. “They did not,” she wagged a card in Carington’s direction. “You must be serious or the cards will not tell you anything.”
Carington pretended to wipe the smile from her face, finding enough distraction with the game to tear herself away from the window. “Very well,” she leaned against the wall and watched her new friend deal out the cards. “What are they telling ye?”
Kristina collected the cards she had just laid out, shuffled them around, and then indicated for Carington to take one. Carington obliged and Kristina took the card out of her hand, laying it on the coverlet. She peered at it closely. Because she was, Carington peered closely at it, too.
“What do ye see?” she asked.
Kristina’s brow furrowed in concentration. “It is The Chariot,” she said thoughtfully. “It means conquest and pride. It is the card of a warrior.”
Carington looked closer. “It does?” She looked up at her friend. “Perhaps it is telling ye something about the battle at Hexham.”
Kristina pondered that. “’Tis possible,” she said. “It often means strength and battle.”
Suddenly, Carington took the cards more seriously. “What else?”
“Take another card.”
Carington pulled out another one and handed it to Kristina, who placed it to the right of The Chariot. She suddenly smiled. “Ah, The Empress,” she declared. “It means beauty and desire. Surely that is your card.”
Carington blushed furiously. “What else does it mean?”
Kristina was still smiling at Carington’s bashful response. “Surely you know how lovely you are,” she said. “Why, there is not a man at Prudhoe who has not noticed. You are all anyone can speak of.”
Carington looked at her almost fearfully and shook her head. “Ye mustn’t say such things.”
“Why not? ’Tis the truth.”
“Can I pick another card?”
Kristina laughed softly and held out the deck. Carington plucked out another card and Kristina put it to the left of The Chariot. Her smile faded. “The Tower.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Chaos.”
The answer came from the other side of the room. Carington and Kristina looked over to see that Julia was addressing them. When she knew she had their attention, she focused her dour predication on Carington.
“The Tower means Chaos,” she repeated, more slowly as if to drive home the point. “It also means crisis, disillusionment and ruin. It is horror and destruction.”
Carington instinctively stiffened at the woman’s hostility. She gazed balefully at Julia for a moment before returning to Kristina. “Can I pick another card?” she asked.
Kristina did not look particularly worried about The Tower and offered Carington the deck. Carington selected a fourth card and handed it back to Kristina, who laid it next to The Empress. Her smile was back.
“Ah,” she murmured. “The Lovers. And it is right next to your card, too.”
Carington looked more closely at the bright cards. “What does that mean?”
Kristina’s eyes twinkled. “It means that you shall find love soon. Is there anyone special you left behind in Scotland, my lady? Someone who has your heart?”
Carington shook her head, unwilling to divulge any information. She prayed her expression would not give her away. “Nay,” she replied, still eyeing the card. “No one in Scotland.”
“This is a very powerful card. It means eternal love and devotion.”
Carington simply shrugged as if she had nothing more to say to that. Kristina, suspecting there was more to what Carington was telling her simply by her evasive stance, held out the deck of cards.
“One last card, my lady,” she said. “I need five to tell your fortune.”
Carington pulled out the last card and handed it to Kristina. The young lady put it neatly next to The Tower. As she did so, the pleasant expression faded from her face.
“Death,” she muttered. “It sits next to The Tower.”
Carington already did not like the sound of that. “What does it mean?”
“It means precisely what she said,” Julia piped up from across the room. “It means there is Death in your future.”
Before Carington could work herself into a snappish reply, Kristina was shuffling them around and putting them back with the deck. She lifted her gaze to Carington’s curious face.
“’Tis a silly game,” she insisted softly. “Any fortune I have ever told has never come true. Do not take great stock in it.”
Carington gazed into her eyes, reading the disquiet, but did not press her. Instead, she forced a smile.
“Of course,” she murmured. “Only a game.”
Kristina shuffled the cards around furiously, trying to move on from the lingering Death card. “Let us tell someone else’s fortune,” she said. “Whose should we tell?”
“How about Sir Creed?” Julia stabbed at her embroidery. “Perhaps we can divine his future. Perhaps we can see if a wife is in order.”
Carington’s head snapped to the girl, attempting to discern if she was mouthing off because she was in possession of secretive knowledge or if she was simply being her usual malicious self.
Her statement could have been interpreted both ways.
Carington remembered what Ryton had told her of Julia, that she wanted Creed for herself.
If Julia had been even the slightest bit kind, Carington might have felt sorry for her.
But at the moment, all she felt was venom.
Kristina, thankfully, was oblivious to Carington’s mental turmoil. She simply shook her head at Julia.
“We have told his future too many times,” she reminded her. “It never comes out the way you wish. I would think that you would give up and look elsewhere for a husband. Marrying Creed simply is not in your cards.”
Carington could not even comment on that statement; she turned away, biting off a smile as she returned her attention to the lancet window. It was mid-afternoon now with evening only an hour or so away. She gazed up at the blue sky with its puffy dusting of clouds.
“How far is Hexham Castle?” she asked.
Kristina was shuffling her cards again. “No more than two hours. It is a short and lovely ride.”
Carington digested the information, thinking that, in fact, the army had been gone quite some time for so short a distance.
But she recollected the days when her father had ridden to battle; he would be gone for weeks at a time.
She knew that war was a waiting game for those left behind.
Almost as strong as her anxiety for Creed’s safety was her desire to know who had instigated the raid.
She had told Creed that it could not have been her father; truth be told, she could not be sure.
His treaty was with Prudhoe, not Hexham.
If allied clans called for Sian Kerr’s aide for arms against an English enemy, she knew that her father would not refuse.
So she sat back on the bed and played Kristina’s card game.
They read fortunes for Burle, Stanton, Lady Anne and Gilbert.
By the time they got around to reading a fortune for Edward, an odd sound from the bailey caught their attention.
It was a strange grinding noise with echoes of thunder to it.
Carington and Kristina looked at each other with some confusion, then apprehension, before they bolted to the window and peered outside.