Intermissio: The Girl in the Tower
The proud plainsfolk of Sacae made it their birthright to live freely on the open steppes, hunting in the great spaces given to them by Mother Earth and the great spirits, their green-and-red land under the bright orange sun, manly and loud as it was. To imprison Lyn of the Lorca in the highest tower of Castle Caelin as Lord Lundgren did, in a place claustrophobic and nigh-lightless, was to submit her to a fate worse than death. Lady Lyndis sat alone in the darkness, lit only by what remained of the day, light sifting through an iron-barred window too narrow to fit through regardless. Her holding chamber was barely large enough to pace about in, and not nearly large enough to run in, as Lyn desired to do daily. The wrought-iron door was tightly shut, and when she looked out the window, she saw the courtyard far, far beneath her, so small that the people below seemed little more than dolls from such a height, the fountain was little more than a leaky spigot, and the flowers in the ringed garden nothing more than prismatic specks flashing from another world. She was far, far away from the warmth of the plains and the warmth of human companionship she so cherished. Her cell was cold, stony, and lifeless, furnished with little more than a cot, a small night table, and a chamber pot. Within hours of awakening to her imprisonment, Lyn resigned herself to the idea that here, here in the glorified dungeon of a land foreign to her, she was utterly powerless.
Since the time she had found herself here, she had been attended by two stony-faced handmaidens who allowed her a modest meal of fresh bread and lukewarm stew. Under protest, Lyndis allowed them to change her into Lycian apparel—a little white dress and thin stockings. She had little strength to argue and less strength to fight. The maids had left, and with neither her sword nor proper clothes, Lyn felt nearly naked.
Oh, Father Sky, Mother Earth, why must I be subjected to this? Haven't I been through trials enough? Is this a test of my will, of my pride as a woman of Sacae? And why do my friends have to be brought into this as well? This is my affair. I should have been the only victim, and instead…
"A thousand cuts and curses on all of them!" yelled Lyndis loudly, and hoped dearly that the wind would carry her message down to the courtyard, to Lundgren and the fat, stupid nobles who conspired against her. But no one came to call until the night fell, and even then it was only a maid come with a meager portion of food, flanked by two guards who seemed ready to rive her in two if she made any move to escape.
Why have they not killed me? Lyn thought as she ate her night's meal disinterestedly. Lycian cuisine did not well suit her, but she stomached it as best she could out of simple necessity. What is Lundgren scheming? What are they trying to accomplish?
The next day, when afternoon rolled around, Lyn was woke by a heavy rapping at her chamber door and heard a commanding male voice say, "I enter in," from the other side. Lyndis sat up, white dress hanging awkwardly and immodestly off her body, and folded her hands in her lap as her visitor entered. He was a tall, imposing man, strong of chin with a prominent nose and a stony countenance, his teal hair cut short and combed back. He wore a regal white cloak trimmed with gold, upon which was embroidered a great blue eagle clutching a brown rat in its talons. His armours were silvery-white and painted turquoise in places, purple in others, and gilded in yet others still; at his belt hung a sharp, silver sword that was so pristine Lyn doubted it had ever been used. When he entered, large and bullish in the small prison tower, time itself seemed to stop and accommodate his presence.
"So this is the woman called Lyndis," he said stiffly, and the tone of his voice sent chills running across Lyn's back and down her spine. "Allow me to introduce myself to you. I am the lord known as—"
"Lundgren," Lyn spat, interrupting. Lundgren seemed more surprised and amused than angry that he had been cut off. He chuckled.
"I guess you could be excused for not knowing your place or the ways of decorum. After all, you are just a little barbarian girl. I am impressed that you know the name and face of he who would be your conqueror." Lundgren drew closer, grinning in that awkward way only humorless men do, until he stood directly over Lyn, and as she tried to lean away from him, she was certain that he was trying to look directly down upon her. "Stupid little savage, so ignorant of the ways of Lycia. I suppose you could work to be forgiven of that. I hope the savage in you has not made your brain so small as to preclude you learning our proper manners."
Lyn ground her teeth. "Why have you come here, Lundgren? What do you want from me? Why have you kept me alive? I thought you wanted me dead."
Lundgren ignored her and instead seized her by the chin with one great, callused hand, turning her chin and her eyes towards him.
"No! Un…unhand me! You brute, let me go!" Lyn cried out, and brought her hand across Lundgren's face, trying fruitlessly to escape his iron-handed grip, cold as ice.
Lundgren blinked, and for a moment merely stared at Lyndis, struck utterly dumb. Then, with his free hand, he struck her with all his might, metal on skin, and sent her sprawling out across the bed. Lyn yelped , her hand darting to her cheek where his mailed hand had bit into her. She regarded him with nothing short of shock. To look at him and hear him speak, one might think him the gentleman.
"I would suggest not doing that again," Lundgren said, now heaving with anger. He hauled Lyn up and grasped her chin again. "Mongrel! Filthy whore! Do that again and I swear on Elimine's name I will strike half the teeth out of your bloody mouth! Now still! Stay still!"
"You…you…" Lyn continued to hold her cheek where he had struck her so hard that when she removed her palm she found it fresh with blood.
"Sit still and be silent. If you were trying to put me in a foul mood, you've succeeded. You brought this upon your own damn self by raising your hand to me." Holding her motionless, Lundgren looked long and close into her eyes. "Hmp. It is true. Hah…you've…you've my damned runaway niece's eyes. Madelyn's beautiful, God-damned eyes…"
The words appeared to have a bitter taste to them, for the old lord's lips twisted as though he'd suckled on a lemon-teat. Lundgren released his grip on Lyn and stood back, clearing his throat. His eyes took on a cold, distant look. "You've a bit of a Lycian appearance to you, certainly. You're—different from most of the dogs that howl and gnash at scraps on the grasslands. If you've stolen but half the hearts your mother did as a lass…O Gods, what a whore of a woman you'd be, mongrel!"
"What are you going to do to me?" Lyn cried. She tried with the full force of her pride to hold back her tears, but her pain and her fright flowed forth, from her eyes down her cheeks to her tongue where the taste of salt stung and needled her mouth. The world—and indeed her own emotions—seemed to be slipping out of her control, and it was this above all else that scared Lyndis.
Lundgren hesitated a brief moment, then said simply, "You will be judged fairly, and in due time. I won't tarry overly long, of that you can rest most assured, girl. Soon, soon enough…I'll make my plans with you. Ah—my plans for you."
"I won't bow down to you," said Lyn, wiping her red, fiery eyes with her sleeve. "I will not beg for forgiveness or grovel or bend my knee to you, Lundgren. Never. I will never obey your wishes. As long as I live I will oppose you."
Lundgren laughed and shrugged. He managed a small smile. "Be that as it may. I would expect no less from a wild woman like you. If I did not know better, I might have believed that this fire was inherited from your barbarian father…but no, this defiance of yours is…patently your mother's. Did you know your mother? She was a frisky little slut….she could have had any number of the most powerful, noble, handsome men in Lycia, and yet she chose to whore herself out to the biggest-cocked, dimmest-witted savage she could find slinking through our fine country. Not even her loving father would willingly abide by such a damnably foolish decision! If only she'd had a little bloody sense!"
"Don't…don't you dare…speak of my mother like that!" said Lyndis, now openly weeping. "I'll…I'll…."
"You'll what? You'll kill me? Hmp. Let me tell you something, little girl." Lundgren leaned in close and grasped Lyndis by the shoulders. Now painfully close to him, she could smell the cloying scent of sweet mint and grapes on his breath. "There is nothing you could do to me, no wrong you could level on me worse than those have been leveled on me before. I have lived far longer and seen more things than you ever will, girl! Nothing you do can harm me. The more you struggle, the more pain it will cause you and whatever friends of yours still live. It's better if you don't resist." For a moment, Lyn thought he was going to kiss her. The way he looked at her, with some indescribable mix of fury and lust, was almost as monstrous.
When he finally released her, she crawled backwards on her bedding, her eyes not leaving him for a second.
"Keep this in mind. If you disobey me, your friends are going to suffer. And that little Ilian girl I'm keeping will suffer most long and most painfully of all. Be mindful of that before you misbehave, wench. I hold your life in the palm of my hand! I've already shown you enough mercy as it is, keeping you breathing for so long. Before you happened to fall into my lap so perfectly, I might have simply chopped your little green head off. You, who tried to take from me that which is mine by rights! Mine, the throne of Caelin! My father's birthright! You should be glad you're even alive, wench.
"Oh, but just one final thing," he said as he turned away on his great steel heels, cloak swooshing behind him. He did not even spare another look at her. "My fool brother Hausen is finally dead. By rights I am now the marquess of Caelin proper. And therefore, the next time I come to fetch you, I expect you to show me the proper respect, girl."
With that, Marquess Caelin disappeared, and barred the door behind him. Lyndis was alone again, left to her own thoughts, which imprisoned her as surely as any tower walls could. She trembled. Images flashed through her mind: scenes of the battle days before, of Wil falling dead before her, of Lundgren's hand hitting her cheek, of his terrible, sniveling voice. Lyn slid underneath her covers and stared longingly at the cold stony ceiling. She grit her teeth and tried to dam her tears, but try as she could, she cried still, free and sincere. Lyn took time to scold herself for the weakness she thought crying brought her, and she cursed Lundgren's name with every vile term she knew, both in the Common Language and the language of her father, the language of Old Sakai.
It took nearly a half-hour to compose herself and steel her nerves again, and to no man in particular, she said, "By the love and power of Father Sky and Mother Earth, on the blood and bone of Hanon, She of the Spirited Steed, the Divine Horsewoman, please, deliver a green-and-red woman of the plain from this awful prison. And my allies, my friends…Sain, Kent, Florina, Wil, Grandfather, and all…wherever they are, whatever plain they may roam now, whether they yet live or roam the everlasting plain in the heavens, let them roam free as stars, free from pain or worry. Father Sky, Mother Earth, and the Spirits our Brothers, please…give me strength. Give me strength to make right the wrongs done me and my friends, the strength to avenge all those that Lundgren has wronged. This I ask of you humbly but proudly, by the will of the great spirits."
Now what should I do? thought she when her plea was done. Is there any way to get out of here? The walls, I should check the walls for secret passages, the Lycians have plenty of little secrets like that? Oh, if only I had my sword…where is everyone now? Who is still…who still walks with us. And 'Ilian girl'? Did he mean Florina? Does that mean that Florina is alive, in this castle? And in Lundgren's hands? That she …no…no, no, no, this cannot be happening. Not with him, not as…oh…ohh, spirits. Florina…Grandfather…ohh.
Somehow, after the tears had dried, Lyn fell asleep, and for a brief while, a peaceful, dreamless respite came to her.