Chapter 3: A Blight Approaches
Childhood living it's easy to do
The things that you wanted, well I bought them for you
Graceless lady, you know who I am
You know I can't let you just slide through my hands
--
"You asked for me, brother?" Fergus looked up from the documents piled on his desk when I entered the room. With a dip of the quill in ink, he scribbled another note on the edge of a scrap of vellum. He inclined his head towards the chair in front of his desk, and I sat, arms crossed, leaning back in a comfortable position. Eirik had padded into the room behind me, and sat down at my side with a sigh, put his head on his massive paws.
"The last letter that I received from Father was, as you know, several days ago," he said when he finally put his notes aside. It was the eve before the autumn festival, and there were many arrangements to be made for the festivities tomorrow. I had to spend most of the day alongside Mother in our final fittings for the gowns we must wear tomorrow. "I have not had the time to read it until now, but there was a note in it, specifically relating to you."
There was something about the tone of his voice that I did not like, and I was weary. Father usually returned from court in time for the Highever festivities, but this year he was in Amaranthine with Arl Howe and would return later in the festival. I felt my stomach tighten in apprehension or worry.
"As you know, Bann Roger was one of the nobles who accompanied him to Amaranthine," Fergus went on. "He mentioned your earlier indiscretion."
I felt the tension ease. The fool nobleman and his dreams of rising in the ranks of Father's advisors. He hoped to use his children as pawns. "And what does Bann Roger have to say about that?"
"He said that his son could be gracious and over-look your…other qualities, and the offer of a betrothal still stands." My brother watched my face, with the corners of his mouth curved up.
Anger coiled inside of me like a fist, ready to strike, but Fergus was not the intended target. This anger was intended for Terrell, that sniveling man who spread the rumor, that I was less than chaste, the insinuation that I was spoiled goods, as if I was some ware on display in the market.
"What would you have me do?" I asked. "Accept this proposal?"
"He will be here tomorrow at the festival, and you may discuss the possibilities of further arrangements." He gave me an amused little smile, knowing how this would make me react.
"What? He is coming?" I leaned forward then, annoyed at this knowledge. "You are joking."
"Why do you think Mother strictly forbade you from entering the tournament?" He chuckled. Mother had indeed told me that I was to be the one to hand out the trophies for the winners of the tournament, an honor that was been her role as the Teyrna of Highever. You are seventeen, after-all, ready for these duties of nobility.
"It does not surprise me that Mother knew," I said dully and reached for Eirik to scratch him behind the ears. The familiar feel of his fur gave me comfort and he gave a low whine in appreciation. His ears flicked then, and I felt the shift in his body, as Fergus stood up, greeting someone who had entered the room. I turned and stood as well when I saw it was Mother, who had caught my last statement.
"So glum, Elika," she commented. "What was it that I knew that displeased you so?"
I did not answer, choosing childish petulance, the role that I easily slipped into in front of my parents. It was Fergus who spoke for me.
"Terrell Winder," he explained, and needed only those two words for Mother to understand.
"My daughter…" She sighed, like she often did when she talked about this topic. "You know that I do not do these things with the intention of making you unhappy. Sit, both of you. We need to talk, the three of us"
--
It was the same lines, the same repetitions. I knew I needed to make a good match. Fergus would eventually inherit the title of Teyrn, and I would gain my own title through my marriage to another. I would marry an arl or a bann or one of their sons who would inherit the estate. It may be one of the nobles loyal to Father, or it may be one who he required an alliance with.
"I did not want to tell you this, but…I had hoped to give you a fond memory with Ser Gilmore," Mother informed me, and it was a revelation that was new, one that inserted itself in the oft-repeated tug and pull of our conversations. It stunned me that Mother knew of my relationship with Roddy, and I sat there, slack-jawed for a moment, trying to find a fitting response.
Fergus laughed, a sound that irritated me further in the mood I was in. "Did you think, little sister, that you and Roddy hid your feelings from the world? It was only a matter of time until we all saw you glowing and a woman in love." The last three words had a teasing emphasis, a slow drawl. I wanted to hit him.
"Perhaps it was foolish of me to give you this," Mother rubbed her eyes with a hand. "Perhaps I gave you too long of a childhood, let you run wild." Like others have said, was the implication.
"We taught you pride, Elika. Pride and honor and duty, as befitting a Cousland." Her voice was stern when she went on, the tone that she usually reserved for clumsy servants or disobedient guards. "But we also taught you to be willful and impetuous, and we let this go on for longer than appropriate. I wanted Fergus here for this, so that the two of you cannot plot and protect each other, the way you have always done since you were children."
My mother wore many faces. She had one for court, one for Father, one for the servants, and one for us. Fergus and I exchanged looks. He looked worried and I felt weary of what sort of terms Mother will impose next.
"Your dalliance with him will end as of this moment. No more romps in the hay, no more sneaking out of the castle at late hours. If you do not do something about this matter between you and Roderick, then I will interfere," she concluded, the warning that the interference will not be pleasant. Mother ruled the household with a loose fist, and when it closed, it crushed.
I thought it would be appropriate at this time to burst into tears or throw a tantrum, as befitting a foolhardy and spoiled noblewoman she believed me to be. However, I could not deny those names, for I was her daughter and she knew me well.
I may not wear the muzzle, but I followed the leash.
--
Roddy and I behaved ourselves in front of everyone in the castle after our scene with Terrell. We were only seen at the appropriate places. We passed each other in the hall and he would call me lady and I would call him ser. The servants watched eagerly in these moments, greedy for any gossip. They were visibly disappointed at these moments, for we did not engage in any passionate embraces, even though the idea has crossed my mind more than once. When the presence of the family was required at the great hall, I made sure that I was positioned on the dais, carrying out the proper duties of the daughter of the teyrn. Mother was happy indeed, positioning me this way and that, dressing me up in all sorts of outfits that I usually refused to wear, so that I was the appropriate chastised daughter.
After the talk with Mother and Fergus in the evening, I could only find Roddy the following morning, preparing for the tournament that would run for two days. I tied a ribbon on his sleeve, to show that he had my support and affection. I wore a ribbon in my hair to match the token. It was the only form of rebellion I had left, one that Mother would allow and disapprove of.
"I have to speak to you afterwards," I told him, the words heavy on my heart. He nodded, showed he understood.
I sat on the shaded platform that had been erected for the family, the best view of the tournament ring below. There were cheers and jeers, bets laid down for the knight who would strike the final blow. I had only eyes for one man. Roddy was deadly and powerful, showed his focus and training, as he took down one knight after another. I wanted to be in the fight, my fingers and legs itched with the need to meet and counter strikes in battle. I wanted to see if I could best the other knights that I grew up with, if my skills in the practice ring extended to the one fought for trophies and acknowledgement, real sport.
Ser Yelan, a seasoned warrior, was the champion, beating Roddy in three grueling rounds, youth against experience. It was a feigned sidestep that tricked him, made him lunge forward with the sword, but too slow, since a shield came up to meet his arm and a sweep just so landed the knight on his back, tip pointed at his throat. The older knight reached down for the younger and pulled him up, gave two great pats on his back, and the crowd roared, approved of the victory.
I kissed Ser Yelen on both cheeks and presented him with the well-crafted sword, his prize. I kissed Roddy on the forehead as he knelt in front of me, and the crowd looked on with great amusement and raucous laughter. There were even some calls of what celebration do you have planned for her later, ser knight? Since my mother stood at my side, the shouted comments were no lewder than that, which I was thankful of. I saw her frown at the ribbon wound around his arm, but there was no comment.
--
After the tournament ended, the sunset bloomed in the western sky. The bonfires were started and the torches lit, the food brought outside where the scent of smoke and crackling meats suffused the air. There were goblets overflowing with wine, tables upon tables of food from the plentiful harvest. It was a good year for Highever, for the northern winds were fickle with what they brought. Sometimes a slow and lingering summer led to a harvest cut short by frost. Other times a lengthy autumn spilled ripe fruits and bushels of grain. Fiddlers and harpists accompanied the feast, so that it was a clash of senses.
I danced with little Oren, my nephew, around the bonfire, while he giggled and waved his hands. I was always uneasy with children, since they were soft and breakable and most times their mothers (namely Oriana) did not approve of me spending time with them. I figured I had plenty of time to spend the rest of my life with my own children, so I did not waste my time with the young ones who ran about the castle just like I used to.
Fergus claimed me for the next dance, then Ser Aubrey, then others. I was not a graceful dancer like Oriana or a stately dancer like Mother, I only knew the basic steps, when not to trip over my own feet although I stepped on plenty. At least the men were gracious enough not to complain. Then Roddy was there, extending his hand, the firelight flickering across his face, serious and questioning. I caught his fingers with mine, just like time and time before, the ache inside of me. It was to be our last night, to be relegated to fond memory, a common tryst.
I let go of him, my curtsey met with a bow. We made circular steps, hands meeting again. The music on the fiddle picked up, and we were to skip and turn in the circle, women with the swish of the hem of their skirts, men to lead and accompany. Roddy's face as he watched me, expression tender and severe, all at once. The circle, spinning round and round.
I stumbled and spun out, almost fell, but righted myself as I moved forward again. It was too much for me, Mother's expectations, her reminders echoing in my mind, and I ran away into the night.
--
We remained within view of the gathering around the bonfire, for Mother had her servant waiting, to touch my arm as a reminder. I knew then that she had given me this last chance, before I would be presented towards whatever future that awaited me. I plopped myself unceremoniously down on a pile of leaves, and Roddy followed suit. A chill was in the air as the evening deepened, winter whispers. It was silence for a while, and he was the one who spoke first.
"I have…something for you." He shuffled for a moment, digging in a pocket until he came up with something round and dark in his curved palm. He tipped his hand until it rolled and dropped into my waiting one. The surface felt smooth and polished with great care.
"I know you have no need of baubles, and I was about to get you a necklace or jewels, but I saw this and thought it would be appropriate…"
I wasn't sure what he had gotten me. A round black stone? Until I peered closer, turned it this way and that to catch the light, and saw that tiny pinpricks had been imprinted upon it with a careful hand. There were lines here and there, having been drawn into familiar constellations.
"Thank…you, Roddy." My voice caught. It was one of our pastimes, sneaking out of the castle to climb trees, the nights when the skies were clear, the clouds blown to the west. It wasn't just about his body and my body, what that union could bring us. It was about being not-Elika, defiant and ferocious and having to prove to everyone she was more than a girl playing with knives. It was about not-Roddy, a simple boy from a farm who prayed each night to the Maker, for his thoughts to be pure and his way clear. It was about growing up together, about the sleepless hours running in a secret hushed world where we pretended it was just the two of us, towards a place that didn't exist on this earth.
"The Maker put them in the heavens, to guide and to remind us of His presence, that if we are faithful and do not stray, we will one day walk in the Golden City." It was an unusual occasion, with him having more words than I.
"There will not be many occasions in the future, Lia…will there?" He asked gently. "For me to bring you gifts." If any occasion, at all, was the unspoken thought.
"No," I shook my head then, and let a few tears fall, turned my face away so he would not see them.
"The Maker also put them there, so they can remind me of you." His breath was against my face as he pressed his cheek to my head, just the slightest touch, and I let myself shudder, feeling as if someone had reached in my chest and pulled.
I fumbled in the dark to find his fingers, laced mine with his. That touch meant more to me than any carnal pleasure of the body, to have Roddy breathe beside me, his head next to mine. I had no more clever words, no more brash protests. He knew, like I did, that speaking would be a waste of breath, that we could talk to each other in the future, make meaningless sounds, but it wouldn't be like this.
"Elika!" I heard the voices calling in the distance. "Lady Elika!"
I dropped his hand or he let go of mine, and we went towards our resigned fates, the ever watchful stars.
--
Father had returned that evening, having exhausted his men in the haste to return to Highever. The festivities were cut short, the feast having ended on a dread note. Father called a council to convene that night, but it was Fergus who announced the news.
A Blight was coming, from the south.
I did not have the chance to speak to Terrell that evening, for Highever flew her banners high and the surrounding banns heard her call.
We prepared for war.