And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
--Richard II; V.ii.
It had not been the first time that the master of Olau had returned from the palace in the middle of the day. Nor had it been the first time he had arrived at his townhouse drunk. But it had been the first time -- at least since her marriage, Lady Eleni was quick to qualify -- that these two events had occurred together. She was an experienced woman who had seen many things, however, and she was quite capable of appropriate action.
Quietly, girl! she hissed, more sharply than was her wont, at a serving-maid whose elbow came very close to knocking a ewer off the shelf as she maneuvered herself and her tray out the chamber doorway. The best thing to do had been to put him to bed with a powerful sleeping draught. In the ordinary course of things, Eleni would have been inclined to let her husband suffer the consequences of excessive drink. But, she thought with a sigh, the news could not be good if Myles returned without his daughter and in such a state. And indeed, Gods, Eleni,' he had muttered just before drifting into unconsciousness, they're going to kill him!'
It could be, she thought, that he hadn't been quite aware of what he was saying. His already wine-muddled mind would have been made even hazier by what she had just persuaded him to swallow. Perhaps he had been simply voicing his own fears for the worst; perhaps nothing had been decided. Or perhaps, even, she had misinterpreted his slurred words.
she called briskly. Svava, I want to you sit with my lord. Svava! Slowly, and with no expression in her big pale eyes, Svava Maggursdottir appeared from behind the curtain that secluded Eleni's solar. She curtsied. There was nothing impertinent in her manner, nothing even sullen. She simply impressed upon one complete indifference to everything around her. The Scanran warlord's daughter had been a trial to Eleni since her arrival after the end of the war. Myles had offered to take her into his home: she would be close enough to the Palace that she could be easily supervised, yet not so conspicuous as she would have been at Court, exposed to latent Tortallan hostility. Eleni repeated, her tone slow and clear, I want you to sit by Lord Myles's bed and watch over him. He has been ill. If he stirs, send for me. Svava curtsied again, giving no indication that she had heard anything, then shuffled down the hall to the bedchamber.
Eleni sighed as she settled herself at her writing desk and began to go over the records of the apple harvests at Olau. She was sure that the girl understood everything that was spoken to her; she even spoke Common well-enough when necessity compelled it. When she had first arrived, Myles had tried draw her out with conversation in her own language, in which she had been almost as uncommunicative. Eleni, for her part, had always used Common. Not only was she completely ignorant of Scanran, but, she felt, the sooner Svava became acculturated to her adoptive homeland, the better. There was no reason to encourage her to pine for a brutal, barbaric homeland when she should, quite frankly, be grateful to be educated in and given the advantages of a civilized homeland. Not that Eleni had been anything but welcoming, of course. As much as her stomach had turned over when her lord had brought home the news that they would be housing the daughter of Maggur Rathausak, as much as the thought of any kin to that monster in her own home sickened her, she had been quite ready to due her duty by the Goddess and take the orphan in. Svava was pretty enough, even if she was a trifle washed-out looking, with her white-blond hair and pale skin. Even after the few months to settle in had turned to a year, then two -- even after she had found the girl crying for her father, of all people -- Eleni still a strange affection for her. The poor thing didn't know any better, after all, and it did have to be difficult, being wrenched away from all one's kin, even if those kin were some of the worst, most savage barbarians in all the world. Perhaps it was because she had never had a girl of her own, she thought, she was inclined to feel motherly to Svava in spite of her near-perpetual mood. After all, didn't all women complain of such things in their daughters? Eleni still had hopes of raising her to be a wife for her Thom. He could afford to marry a dowerless girl, and, in spite of her listlessness, Svava was intelligent, a good manager, as far as Eleni could tell. She would be able to look after the accounts of two fiefs easily. She wouldn't demand a fine, fashionable life at Court, which would suit him well. When Thom had his Mastery, and was fully engaged in his researches at the University, they even could live with Myles and herself. Everything would work out perfectly.
Everything would have worked out perfectly. Eleni swallowed, the neat rows of figures blurring suddenly. The pain in her throat was unbearable. She pushed the ledger away. No use in trying to settle accounts now.
For over a decade, now, Thom had dined with them once a week, ever since he had entered the University. She could remember a little redhead crying and clinging to her skirts rather than walk back across the city to the Palace complex, unplacated by the promises that he would see his grandmother and grandfather soon, that he would soon love his classmates and his masters, that there would be a day when he wouldn't want to leave his studies to dine with two old folk. It had been as much as she could do not to give orders to the steward for a space to be readied for him. But, of course, she was right, and it had been only a few months before Thom arrived bursting with stories to tell and made no fuss about leaving. No. It couldn't have been so long. It was only yesterday that she had stood there at that very window and watched Myles' man Gregory walk a frightened little boy down the street. Perhaps because he had come along when she had begun to despair that her redoubtable daughter-in-law would ever be willing to have a child, perhaps because Alan's life as a page had been more regimented, and because Alianne hadn't come to stay until she was old enough to want to flit about Corus instead of pass a quiet afternoon with Grandmother and Grandfather, -- whatever the reason, she knew Thom the best, loved him the best, even. Oh, she knew she she oughtn't to have favorites, but her Thom was so sweet, so thoughtful. He had never failed to come for his weekly visit, not once. Sometimes -- more often these later years -- he had simply shut himself up with Myles to talk about arcana, true, but when Myles had been out, he had talked to her, even spoken kindly to Svava. It had been how she had known that something wasn't right, that terrible day when a servant had come with a summons for Myles early in the morning. That day when she had been able to do nothing by sit and twist her hands, ready to snap at Svava as she sat calmly, as perfectly unconcerned as always, at her own embroidery. That day, Thom had been engaged to dine with them. And when the hours had passed, and neither message nor grandson had appeared, she had known. She could try to explain it away -- that with the uproar he hadn't had time ot send a message, that he had forgotten, that he was desperately needed -- but she had known, then.
Why was she standing here now? It was a moment before the memories cleared, and she could think in the present again.
She had known, then, that something was terribly wrong. Just as she knew, now.
She couldn't be still any longer. Eleni walked to the other end of the room, and stared out at the street from that view. If only they were at home, away and in peace at Olau! She couldn't possible go walking through Corus. A noblewoman didn't do such things alone, and, more, she couldn't bear to see the covertly but still staring eyes, to hear the mutters. For there would be mutters. No one could live privately here! Servants gossiped, tradesmen carried tales, and your business was soon on the tongues of the entire lower city. But if only she could walk through the doorway and down the grassy path to the orchards, pace in the anonymous peace of thick rows of trees. She had fallen in love with Olau from the moment Myles had brought her to his home; they were to have been there now. Even Svava had her best days there, in the country. They were to have left three days ago; Thom had promised to come up for a week or two when he had finished his current project. When he had finished his current project Eleni's hand crept involuntarily to her throat. It was very hard to swallow, suddenly, hard to breathe. She was tired, so tired. As she turned away from the window, watching dust floated in the sunlight, Eleni didn't know if she would have the energy to walk back down the corridor.
