Chapter 13 – Leash
Blanchefleur twisted a lock of her thick, dirt brown hair as her advisors bickered around her. The members of her council, Melisendre, Truman, Sister Myra, and Corliss engaged in a flurry of conversations Blanchefleur purposefully tuned out.
For as long as she could, anyway.
In accordance with the vows they took to assist in running their enormous operations, they had called for an emergency meeting following what happened with Swayne.
Blanchefleur rested her head in her hands.
Can't say I blame them.
Everyone had crammed themselves into Blanchefleur's humble quarters. Blanchefleur fondly recalled how Melisendre had described it as a glorified closet.
But Blanchefleur didn't mind, largely because she was used to such accommodations after posing as a nun for eleven years.
It's certainly helps cut costs for children's welfare…and Truman's salary.
Just as she was the lifeline to the children, the children served as a lifeline to her. They were wholly dependent on them for regular operations in exchange for loyalty and care.
With the alliance to Mercia, it was unclear just how the king would want funds allocated in her organization. She had to scrounge as much as she could while she and her council still had total control.
Just how much power will we have to surrender up front until we've earned his trust?
But that very alliance was threatened by Swayne's antics.
Sunlight had barely broken through the rooms single window overlooking the north. She longed to go to that lovely lake, or at least meditate to the muffled voice of livestock going by.
Alas, she was stuck with cleaning up Swayne's mess with her gaggle of liars and thieves.
They could've at least given me an hour or two to rest. Alas, there is seldom rest for those whom work with the wicked.
Sister Myra and Corliss stood side-by-side while Melisendre opted for the chair at the desk in the corner. Her feet were hooked tightly around its oak legs.
Truman propped himself up against the wooden door, undoubtedly to be sure he could hear both the conversation in here and anything outside.
Blanchefleur sat cross legged on her single bed and accepted it was time to tune in.
Let's get this over with!
"Well, I must say! I have seen many disasters unfold in my lifetime, but this has to be the worst of all!" Sister Myra said woefully.
"As you have said, time and time again!" Corliss complained. "I strongly suggest you divert your efforts from moping to formulating a solution!"
"Your badgering is pushing us in the very direction you wish to avoid," Sister Myra said bitterly.
"How does refocusing your energy do that?!" Corliss yelled.
"You're not taking this seriously!" Sister Myra insisted.
"You forget my husband caused this mess." Corliss said as she crossed her arms. "I am more than well-aware of the seriousness, Sister Myra."
"I-I-I…" Sister Myra stuttered.
Blanchefleur snorted. She can deliver foul talk so easily, but when she's the one receiving it, she clamps up.
"Did you call this meeting for me to take note of yet another quarrel? Your conversations have filled up an impressive amount of shelf space," Truman said coolly.
He tapped the side of his head, taking care not to fray his immaculately kept chestnut hair.
Corliss cocked an eyebrow at him. "Is it really? Have we taken twenty scrolls too many?" She asked sarcastically.
"Seventeen, as a matter of fact," he said, simpering.
Blanchefleur chuckled. How Truman managed to keep a damn near perfect mental record was beyond her. His memory was almost as sharp as La Mere des Secrets.
Almost.
He was truly suited in his role as secret keeper in both temperament and skill. She could see why La Mere des Secrets put so much trust in him.
Not as a person, of course. Only for his abilities, and how they could help bring in coin.
As he was never one to take sides, he required a handsome salary for his counsel.
A price certainly worth paying. It was better to have someone of his capability under close watch, rather than left alone to their own devices.
"I need solutions," Blanchefleur said, raising her voice to quiet the room. "Speak your piece, and keep in mind the goal is to maintain this alliance."
"Or what's left of it! We should prepare to evacuate!" Sister Myra urged. Tiny, hot tears poured from her sky-blue eyes.
"Don't be so cowardly, this is a single incident – "Blanchefleur started.
"A single incident?!" Sister Myra wheezed. "You've got Swayne, Ceolbert!" She rambled on, counting each factor off on her gangly, coarse fingers. Her sandy blonde hair frayed out from the nun cap that bordered her pale face.
Blanchefleur grumbled some choice words under her breath.
"S-sorry did you say something?" Sister Myra asked, but the tempo of her voice was so fast it sounded like the words melted into one jumbled mess.
Perhaps that's why the devoted Sister was so good at managing expectant mothers and suckling babes. She spoke their language.
A language Blanchefleur also knew, only from the worst experience she'd ever endured.
"Swayne has been reprimanded for his crimes," Blanchefleur said, she stopped when she noticed how intense Corliss' gaze was.
Those eyes, so sharp and always hyper focused…
Despite the young Saxon girls seemingly unwavering demeanor, those very eyes gave away an ever so subtle tick: her irises would twitch back and forth slightly.
It was virtually undetectable, but Blanchefleur had a trained eye for such things.
And that training suggested Corliss was using all her energy to bite her tongue.
"Corliss, it appears you have something to say," Blanchefleur noted.
Corliss flipped her long braid behind her back. "With…all due respect, you didn't just punish my husband. You've nearly broken him. Perhaps the punishment far outweighed the crime," she said slowly.
She had to of mustered all her courage to let those words leave her lips.
Blanchefleur raised her eyebrows, making Corliss avert her gaze.
Corliss was definitely one to let her voice be heard, often times with crude language.
But even someone as stubborn as Corliss could not escape the binds of rank. Even the slight insinuation of dissent could lead to severe consequences.
"Swayne committed a crime at the very least. How can we say we are allied with Mercia if we do not abide by its laws?" Blanchefleur said definitively.
Corliss's eyebrows relaxed, finally reminding Blanchefleur what she looked like without a furrowed brow.
Blanchefleur took that as a sign that they were aligned, at last.
It normally took a great effort to make Corliss relent. But Blanchefleur knew what nerves to strike, and had no issue taking advantage of that.
That was the only way they could make use of what precious time they have.
"You were angrier at the fact he committed a crime against you, Blanchefleur" Melisendre said firmly.
"Which he did," Truman said. "Do you forget she is La Mere?"
"Of course I haven't fucking forgotten that!" Melisendre spat.
"Solutionsssss," Blanchefleur hissed. She adjusted her scarf so it draped more over her shoulders. The crisp morning air travelled across her bare neck, providing a jolt of energy Blanchefleur so desperately needed.
"I already reported what funding Corliss has to find quarters for the children, and for the midwife supplies to you, Sister Myra. You have said more than enough. Perhaps I've given you too much leeway to express yourselves and your opinions!" Blanchefleur warned them.
All the women in the room stared at her in shock, whereas Truman maintained his infuriatingly unreadable smirk.
Blanchefleur held a hand up to reassure them. "But! I would not want to bring back the practices of La Mere des Secrets. That chapter is closed."
Sister Myra gulped loudly as she and Corliss bowed in respect.
Blanchelfeur straightened her back as she adjusted herself on her bed, satisfied with their compliance.
Such outbursts in their leader's presence were not only disrespectful, but a colossal waste of time.
"I believe this is where you take your leave," Blanchefleur said sternly. The two women did just that, and Blanchefleur felt they were probably happy to get out of that room.
"Now! I will confer with you two," she pivoted on her bed so she was facing Truman. "What say you? What is the best approach?" Blanchefleur asked.
Truman uncrossed his arms and held out his hands, twiddling his fingers. "Payment," he teased, grinning from ear-to-ear.
Blanchefleur rolled her eyes and scooched off her bed. Melisendre glared at Truman as Blanchefleur rummaged through a chest she'd kept on her desk.
From it she pulled out a large bag made of red cloth. The mass sum of coins within it jingled loudly.
Blanchefleur tossed it to Truman which he promptly caught and tucked away in his dark cloak.
"The king holds his son's well-being as paramount. Though Swayne deserved what he got, it's the method by which the king will take issue with," Truman explained.
"Ivarr the Boneless had a dagger to my neck! Pulled me out of bed in the middle of the night!" Blanchefleur argued.
"But what you should've done is put on the façade of a tearful mother figure. Forced to punish her son which is a punishment by itself. A parental dilemma the king could've related to," Truman reasoned.
"Truman, ever the performer! Is there a shred of man under your hideous face?" Melisendre said, shaking her head in disgust.
Truman ignored her insults and focused solely on Blanchefleur. His pupils did not change shape, allowing his emerald green eyes to practically hypnotize Blanchefleur.
"One cannot change the past, only learn from it. The brothers will act. Do you think they push you away as an unpredictable foe, or put you under strict surveillance?" Truman asked.
Blanchefleur sighed. This was not the time for one of his blasted tests.
Why can't you just tell me what you think, rather than give me an impromptu lesson when given the chance?!
"If I was a gambler, I would bet on the latter," Blanchefleur deduced.
"Good, you're learning!" Truman said, reverting back to his trademark smirk. "They will most likely appoint a guard to you. Someone they have the upmost trust in."
"Under the pretext of protection, and keep an eye on me?" Blanchefleur guessed.
Truman nodded.
"Like a dog on a leash," Melisendre said sadly. "But who would it be? Are they not wary of everyone around them, especially after having combed through their ranks of all our agents?"
"Best way to earn their trust is to go along with it, for now anyway. Regardless of who they decide to appoint. This will require your full attention," Truman advised.
Blanchefleur blew out her cheeks. "In the meantime, can we appease them somehow, as a token of good faith? Lessen the blow of this incident?" She proposed.
Truman shrugged and scratched his chin. His oily skin shone brightly in the morning light. "That could be difficult. Those men, they're all so different. Given what little time we have, we need to find something quick," Truman said, eyeing Melisendre.
Melisendre bit her lip and smirked. "They all have one common denominator though," she said, chuckling half-heartedly.
Blanchefleur blinked. She knew her closest friend was begging to bed the Ragnarsson's.
She had talked about little else on their ride to Tamworth.
But when she was finally offered the opportunity, instead of being elated, here she is docile. Indifferent.
Her gold hair obscured her face as she followed the etchings of the stone floor with the tip of her boots.
That's not good.
"Something you wish to say, Melisendre?" Blanchefleur asked gently.
Melisendre glanced at Blanchefleur. "If you would grant me a sole audience," she said softly.
"Did you not hear me?! This requires full attention!" Truman groaned.
"We will finish this later," Blanchefleur said, motioning to the part of his cloak he had put his coin. "I'm still good for the rest of this month."
Truman rolled his eyes, remembering the short, easy tenants of their business arrangement. "You'll get what you pay for," he said, before swiftly exiting the room.
The air became dead silent as Blanchefleur eagerly awaited Melisendre's next move.
Melisendre rose and took a deep breath. She smoothed out the wrinkles on her wool dress and looked down at Blanchefleur.
"I'm worried about you," Melisendre said.
"I know this alliance is not panning out, why do you need a private audience – "Blanchefleur said, frustrated that she had to repeat herself.
"Please, let me finish!" Melisendre pleaded. "You're handling this all wrong!"
"I disagree! Truman is right about the brothers – "Blanchefleur said sibilantly.
Melisendre shook her head. "I am not referring to you balancing the politics in Mercia, Blanchefleur. I am talking about how you've treated Swayne and Corliss! How could you do something like that to them? Your anger is justified but how could you do something so cruel?!" She demanded.
"It was necessary!" Blanchefleur protested.
"You used that poor boy as an outlet for your anger, and Corliss is caught in the fray! She might feel as if she has to pick up more pieces than anyone,"" Melisendre said somberly.
"It is the consequences of their actions," Blanchefleur said indignantly.
"You have tasked me with curbing the darkness within you when it's taking hold. It did just that when you attacked Swayne, dagger to your neck, or not!" She snapped. She marched up to Blanchefleur until her face was mere inches from hers.
Blanchefleur grimaced as Melisendre's parfum failed to cover the nasty stench of wine on her companion's breath.
"I thought we did not blame others for the actions of others, regardless of association. If we protect children from the sins of their parents, why can we not protect spouses from one another?" Melisendre challenged her.
"Shit…" Blanchefleur breathed. She walked slowly over to the window as she pondered over Melisendre's words.
She wiped away water condensed on the bumpy glass to look at the horizon before reaching the obvious conclusion.
Melisendre was right.
Blanchefleur fought to get where she was to help innocent people. People much like herself.
Damned by social stigma and expectations meant to root out the weak and benefit the powerful. Laws she had come to abhor with ever fiber of her being.
But in the midst of Swayne jeopardizing everything as he lost himself in anger, she too, was losing sight of everything she'd come to work for.
The emotional weight made Blanchefleur slouch and tuck her neck in.
What we, my true family, have worked for…damn it!
"What would you have me do?" Blanchefleur mumbled.
"Stand up straight, for one. You're already on a steady path to have your face as corrugated as Truman's. The least I can do is make sure your back doesn't cave in," Melisendre honeyed.
"How can you jest at a time like this?" Blanchefleur asked tiredly.
"I'm not jesting, Blanchefleur, I'm advising you, remember?" Melisendre said. She stood behind her exhausted leader and companion, forcing her shoulder back and lifting her chin.
"And as your advisor, I say you try and get some sleep. I'll wake you if the king summons you," she said gently.
"Which he is sure to do…" Blanchefleur said warily.
Melisendre opened the covers of the bed and motioned for Blanchefleur to lay down.
"You have a part to play in this, Blanchefleur. One that would've been more favorable had you acted differently," Melisendre said.
Blanchefleur's neck snapped in Melisendre's direction. "But you just said to Truman I shouldn't have performed!" She said, confused.
"Yes. But where Truman and I are agreed, I know, a rare occurrence, is you should've handled it differently," she winked at her. "You've survived this far!"
Blanchefleur nodded and laid on the bed. Her eyelids immediately became heavy as she drifted off to sleep. But not without one worried thought.
Survived…but not thrive. We can't go on like this!