Back From Chaos (33 page)

“
Lamb stew, please, mistress.”

Ornan’s request was a code she had been advised to wait for.

Norlain leaned closer. “Lamb stew is not on the menu this time of year, sir, lambing season being over.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial undertone. “Will mutton do?”

Ornan felt relieved that she appeared to know what was expected of her. If he asked for fowl, instead, she had been told to send her son with a message. The son, a young lad of only eight, would deliver it to an agreed upon address. That was all she knew. That, and the fact that her cooperation paid handsomely.

“
Mutton is not to my taste, mistress. Do ye have any fowl, perchance?”

Norlain gave him and oily, knowing smile, “Indeed, the roast fowl is very tasty. I will have my son bring it at once.”

“
Very good. And I have a message to be delivered to a certain address. Is the boy of an age to deliver it? There is coin in it for him if he brings back a reply.”

“
Indeed, sir. I will have him take it right off.” She almost bowed but caught herself. Ornan noticed the slip. He hoped she would not give him away.

When the lad arrived with his meal, Ornan gave him a large silver ring in a small, worn, leather pouch, and advised him to keep it hidden inside his breeches. He made sure the lad knew the address and told him there was a good reward for a swift reply. The boy nodded quickly and ran off.

The ring was worth a good deal, and Ornan hoped his information that these people could be trusted would prove accurate. The lad could as easily sell the ring as deliver it. The promise of a reward had been an added incentive against that.

* * *

Haslin, Norlain’s husband and owner of the inn, looked up from his work to see her sidle into the kitchen. She informed him about their visitor and the errand he had sent their son on. He gave a small, disinterested nod and advised her to return to her work.

Once alone in the kitchen again, however, he reached far under the table where he had been cutting the remaining roast fowl and found the lump he had hidden there. This lump, no more than a small sac of stale herbs in an ordinary looking leather pouch, had been there for three eightdays. Norlain knew nothing of its existence.

Haslin, unbeknownst to her, had also had a visitor, one who had heard rumours that the inn served as a meeting place for persons unhappy with Gaelen’s joining to Marja. Haslin had been taken into confidence by the visitor, and knew from the visitor what Norlain was up to.

She had not informed her husband. Greed and secrecy ran deep with the couple.

The visitor, who went by the name Bethin, had promised Haslin a generous sum if he would inform him, via the herbs, when a message had been sent. Haslin had readily agreed and had made this his own secret. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to have something on his wife.

Now, Haslin dispatched his stable hand to the designated spot with the herb bundle. He knew Bethin would not be there, but he had left instructions to place the bundle behind a loose stone in the wall, next to the door. Haslin hoped that Bethin would receive his message and act on it before their visitor left. This was a dangerous, double-edged game he played.

~ 77 ~

INDECISION

Brensa returned to her chambers both highly elated and deeply troubled after her talk with Klast. He had just offered her what she desired most. But she wondered if it could ever be turned into reality, even with his willingness. The kiss had told her what she needed to find out. But it put the offer of living as brother and sister already out of the question. In spite of his awkwardness, and the extreme care he had taken, she had sensed his desire. She could not ask him to spend his life under the same roof and deny him. She would have to find the courage to share his bed or remain in her present position at court. To do otherwise would be unjust, and the tensions it would cause could even cost her his affection. If only she had someone she could talk to. But she had no one. Not even Marja could possibly understand the conflict and fear she felt. She had to solve this problem alone.

After many tears that left her pillow sodden, she admitted to herself that what she truly wanted was to be properly joined with Klast, to share that life in all the ways it implied, even his bed. The kiss had not only told her that Klast desired her. But she now realized that she wanted his touch and his affection too, in spite of her fear.

Once the tears had spent themselves, she calmed sufficiently to sort out the important questions. Could she trust Klast enough that she would not panic when he showed he wanted her? Did she have the courage to try? Would Klast proceed slowly enough, have enough patience, so that they could eventually complete their union?

A thought struck her that made her go cold. Had her body been damaged in such a way that either the coupling or the bearing of children would not be possible? How could she find out? When the panic of that question faded, and she was able to think about it more clearly, an idea came to her. It might provide the answer to at least part of the problem. Marja expected a visit from the midwife next morning. She would ask Marja if she might have the midwife examine her, too, to see if Lotha saw anything that would prevent her from sharing a man’s bed.

Marja would know where this was leading, of course, but Brensa would have to swallow her embarrassment. At least this was one piece of the puzzle she could solve. With that decision made she fell into an exhausted sleep. She did not wake until Marja knocked on her door, and the sun shining through the window slit told her morning had already passed the halfway point.

Marja’s voice came through the door full of concern. “Brensa? Are you all right? Please open the door and let me see you.”

Brensa jumped up, chagrined that she had slept so late, grabbed a robe and flew to the door. “One moment, my lady, forgive me.” She did not even have time to think about the scene that would greet Marja when she entered, the wet pillow, her dishevelled hair, puffy eyes and her face still mottled from last night’s tears. What must Marja think of her, to have given her yesterday away from her duties, and now still be kept waiting for Brensa to attend her?

“
Oh, Brensa, whatever is wrong? What happened?” Indignation crept into Marja’s voice. “What did Klast say to you?” She put her arm around Brensa’s narrow shoulders, led her to the bed, and sat beside her. “Tell me what happened.”

Brensa hurried to defend Klast. “Oh no, my lady, Klast has not said anything to upset me.” She briefly told Marja what Klast had offered her, leaving out the part about brother and sister, since she had already decided against that option.

“
But, my lady, I do not know what to do!” And she blurted out her fears about her ability to consummate their eventual joining. Marja listened with such sympathy it gave Brensa the courage to ask if she might have the midwife examine her. Marja agreed it was a good idea.

Since the midwife was expected momentarily, Brensa agreed to get dressed. Marja assured her she would bring Lotha to her once her own examination had been completed. Brensa nodded, feeling apprehensive. It was all happening so quickly. But it had to be done, so she dressed, brushed and braided her hair, straightened her chamber and tried to drink some of the tea Marja sent. She found she could not swallow any of the bread and honey.

The wait seemed endless. Waves of nausea assailed her as she contemplated the woman’s hands and eyes on her … on those parts she had allowed no one to see, other than the two baths Marja had given her when she had been too weak to protest. Not since Klast had tended her after … but she was determined to go through with it. Only if she knew that her womb had healed could she even think of sharing Klast’s bed. And if she could not do that … well … then she could not dwell with him.

Questions ran in circles. Would Lotha be disgusted by her, by what had happened? Would she blame Brensa? Would she be gentle or rough? Would she understand Brensa’s fear? No tears flowed any more. Terror prevented even that release.

~ 78 ~

WHAT NOW?

Klast wrestled with his own demons. After he had returned Brensa to the main castle, he went back to the private courtyard to think, knowing no one would look for him there, not even Gaelen. He desperately needed to be alone. Once there, he again spread the blanket he had hidden and made himself sit.

The kiss Brensa had required of him had sent him reeling. How had she done it? She had already breached walls he had built so carefully in order to survive. Now the rest came tumbling down. The strongest men had not been able to penetrate them with their cleverest or cruellest strategies. But this mere slip of a girl had completely unarmed him with the request for a single kiss.

He knew that he could no longer be merely her brother. He wanted to be her lover. And somehow, he understood that this was exactly what she had meant to discover. A thousand words could not change what she had learned from him. And, he realized, this was probably what Liethis meant should happen. Though he had to admit that he hoped it was so only because it was what he himself wanted. Liethis had made it plain that she had not really known what Earth’s sending meant. Klast ran his hands roughly through his hair in a vain attempt to clear his mind. He might as well have stood on his head for all the good it did.

Now that he had admitted to himself what he wanted, he felt helpless. What if Brensa did not share his wish, or was afraid to pursue it? He had offered her the choice. She had the right to ask it of him. He had given his word, so could not back down now. If he did, it would surely break the fragile trust they had built. And that could, most certainly, not have been what Liethis meant should happen. So he must keep his word, if Brensa asked it of him. And he would. But how? She would know eventually if she did not already … she did know already! Oh Earth! What could he do?

He took some deep breaths, as he had taught himself to do many years ago and somehow only now remembered. It stilled him enough to reach one conclusion. He must woo her. He must help her overcome her fear sufficiently, that she would allow him to lie with her. Or tell her she must stay at court, just be friends. No! That could not be what Earth destined for them. He ran his hands through his hair again.

So he must woo her. How? He had never lain with a woman, let alone tried to get one to return his desire. He had heard tales, it was true, of what happened in the bedchamber. He knew what to do, physically at least. But this was different. The tales of conquests and lovemaking he had heard had come either from bragging soldiers or from ladies of pleasure trying to lure him. Such bawdy behaviour would terrify Brensa. Impossible! So what could he do? He knew it would require patience, and he had plenty of that. But every time he pictured himself above Brensa, his desire plain before her sight, all he could see was her screaming in terror and fighting to get away from him. What would it take to convince her he would not hurt her?

The answer, when it came to him, was filled with such irony that he laughed in spite of himself. Who better to teach him how to please a woman than one of the ladies of pleasure, the very sort of woman he had avoided all his life. He had chosen to remain celibate, believing that too many secrets were given up in the bedchamber. Too often, women came, or were sent, to men for just that purpose.

Klast had met many ladies of pleasure in his travels. Some had filled him with pity or disgust. These were not the kind who could help him now. He eliminated them immediately. No, the woman who could tell him what he needed to know had to have both discretion and refinement.

Not all women who lived by their bodies were loose, stupid or down on their luck. There were a few who chose the profession because they liked men, who could afford to be selective about their clients and had the connections, wealth and freedom to show for it. Joining would have made them servants of their husbands, a state which they found unacceptable. These independents chose freedom over the security of a loveless joining. They could not be found in brothels but lived alone, or in twos, at select, high-class inns. The owners of the inns afforded them protection in return for keeping certain clients satisfied. The women paid for their own rooms. The food and drink with which they entertained were, for the most part, purchased at the inn. The payments they received for their services were their own, and they were free to leave if they wished. The arrangements suited both innkeeper and lady.

In one such establishment, the Lucky Stallion, Klast had become acquainted with a woman who worked her profession there. Klast knew Simna liked him. She had tried more than once to lure him into her bed. She had even once offered herself at no charge, but Klast had never taken her up on her invitations. He had made it plain that he was not interested. He had explained to her, once he came to understand that she would be discreet, why he eschewed the company of women, at least in the bedchamber.

Since the food at the inn was to his liking, and his business had taken him there on several occasions over the years, a sort of friendship, or understanding, had developed between the two. The last years, whenever Klast had come for supper or on other business, Simna had shared a meal and conversation with him in the main room. She had proven her discretion, and Klast had grown to trust her. It was of Simna that Klast now thought in his search for tutelage.

His decision made, Klast replaced the worn blanket in its hole and left in search of his bed. On his way to his rooms he stopped by a doorway, and making sure no one spotted him, removed a stone and felt behind it. There he retrieved a small leather sac filled with cooking herbs. When he found the bundle, he gave a grim smile of satisfaction. At last he had a breakthrough. Perhaps now he could find the proof he needed to convict Sinnath. Duty came first. Sleep and Simna would have to wait.