The Ciphers of Muirwood (23 page)

“Indeed, my
queen
,” Collier said with an affected accent that was heavier than was normal for him. He bowed gallantly and patted Murer’s hand. “I miss hearing my native tongue. Let us test languages first. Shall we, my dear?”

Lady Murer nodded haltingly and together, arm in arm, they approached the first girl, Haven. Collier sized her up dispassionately, his eyes studying her face before traveling all the way down to her slippers. He cocked his head and asked, very rapidly, how she enjoyed the muggy rain and festering swamplands of this desolate land, and if she would not prefer the elegant vineyards of Dahomey to such a bleak existence in a stunted apple grove.

He spoke far too quickly for anyone who was not fluent in the language to understand. Maia could see Haven’s eyes widen with shock and then disgrace. Her stumbled reply was a plea for him to repeat his question more slowly. Collier sniffed dismissively and moved on to the next girl, Maeg. Maia stared at him, wondering what in all creation he was plotting.

For indeed, Collier appeared to have a special mission. He pretended to be charmed by Maeg’s appearance, and he asked her, much slower, about the weather in her Hundred.

“I am from this Hundred,” Maeg replied in stuttering Dahomeyjan. “My father is the sheriff.”

“Indeed? Do you like hawking? Good. Do you know Paeizian fencing? No? How sad, for I truly love the sport.”

He spared no time in moving on to Joanna, with his companion Murer a mute appendage to his brisk interrogations. He asked her about the size of the pigs in the swamplands around the abbey, following up with a question about whether the men of her Hundred were also pigs.

Joanna’s eyebrows furrowed, then shot clear up to her hairline as her brain translated his mocking question.

She stuttered incoherently, not sure how to respond to a king’s jest, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Collier chose to ignore her distress and approached Suzenne, whom he regarded with a genuine sign of interest. His gaze took in how close Suzenne and Maia were standing to each other, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Murer had obviously not understood most of the dialogue thus far, but she continued to cling to Collier’s arm with a possessiveness born of self-assurance. Maia struggled to control her feelings, wondering if Collier intended to torture her publicly. She was concerned for how he would treat Suzenne.

“And what is your name?” he asked Suzenne quite deferentially. It was an easy question any of them could have answered.

“I am Suzenne Clarencieux, Your Majesty,” she replied, eyes lowered in a flawless, formal courtesy. Collier’s eyebrow lifted in surprise at the sign of respect. Collier then asked her several questions about her father’s standing, her Family lineage, and, with a private smile, how she enjoyed wandering about in gardens with axe-wielding ruffians.

Suzenne’s chin lifted a small degree as she replied calmly and very fluently that carrying axes in gardens was appropriate when heavy branches could fall from above quite unexpectedly. Collier grinned appreciatively at her reply, looked back at Murer with a nod and an approving smile, and then moved on. Murer looked completely baffled by the exchange, unable to decipher the lightning-quick banter of foreign words.

“And you are?” he asked Maia with a curious tone in his voice, giving her a piercing look that almost dared her to speak the truth. She gazed into his eyes, wondering what he expected of her . . . fact or farce. Before she could respond, Lady Deorwynn appeared at his side.

“She is my lord husband’s
natural
daughter,” Lady Deorwynn said, intervening, her face a little flushed. “Lady Marciana. She is the one we spoke of recently. There is a little matter I must talk with her about, so I asked for her to be brought with the others. She would not be a suitable companion for Lady Murer, my lord.”

“Ah . . . thank you, Lady Deorwynn,” Collier said with his facetiously heavy accent. “I must agree with you. She would not be a fitting companion for Lady Murer. She speaks several languages, does she not?”

Lady Deorwynn bristled. “Perhaps, my lord. If she still remembers them all. She has been . . . serving . . . in my mother’s household for many years, with little chance to practice.”

“What an honor and privilege,” Collier said, his eyes afire as he turned to Lady Deorwynn, “to be a . . . how does one say? . . . a servant in your mother’s household. In Dahomey, we do not treat our well-born children so kindly. Many are given up as wretched. I am pleased to see the king’s
natural
daughter is not treated so
cruelly
in Comoros.”

He turned and looked back at the group of young ladies. “Music next, my lady?” and he bowed gracefully to Lady Deorwynn.

“You wish to hear music?” she asked, confused.

“You said they taught music at this abbey, yes?” He widened his eyes in feigned innocence. “Let the girls play!” His arm swept grandly toward the cluster of girls. Then he glanced surreptitiously over at Maia. “All of them.”

Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provoked it.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Forsaken

T
he room was full of unspoken tension, underscored by the quivering notes played by nervous fingers on strings. Instruments had been fetched, and each girl was being asked to perform a piece. Hanging over them all was the knowledge that they were performing in front of a foreign king who had power over their future destiny. Collier was all deference and grace to Lady Murer, who wore an increasingly smug expression as she soaked in the experience of being so graciously doted upon by such a handsome man. Murer’s golden curls bounced giddily as she tried vainly to monopolize Collier’s gaze and attention. Collier’s smile and courtly manners were enough to placate the vapid young woman, but Maia, who knew him perhaps better than the others in the room, saw more. Fire had erupted in his gaze when Lady Deorwynn interrupted their interchange. She could tell his secret objectives were consuming his thoughts, though she was at a loss as to what those objectives were.

Maia sighed and scanned the room to take her mind off his plotting. Lady Deorwynn’s five ladies-in-waiting were seated off to one side, and Maia easily discerned which young woman was Jayn Sexton. Covert glances were exchanged between Suzenne and the dark-haired girl with the heart-shaped, demure face—a face that looked even more miserable than Maia felt. Maia could tell the two wanted to speak privately, but it was not possible in such a room with so many eyes to witness.

Joanna was in the middle of her lute piece when Murer’s younger sister, Jolecia, appeared next to Maia and pitched her voice very low. “My mother wishes to speak with you privately, Maia.”

Maia turned, startled to see her stepsister standing there so uncomfortably. Across the room, Lady Deorwynn looked flushed, almost feverish. She was watching the girl play, but her hands fidgeted with nervousness.

Maia nodded and slowly slipped away from Suzenne’s side, walking discreetly around the room to where Lady Deorwynn stood by her ladies-in-waiting. Collier and Murer were seated next to the musicians, listening appreciatively to the melancholy song. He observed Maia’s departure, but he betrayed nothing other than a swift glance. Murer whispered something to him behind her hand and tittered softly.

The thought of speaking privately with Lady Deorwynn filled her with strong, unsettling emotions. This was the woman who had distracted her father from his marriage vows. This was the woman who had arranged her banishment from court. This was the woman who had ordered her mother to humiliate Maia by using her as the lowliest household servant. She tried to slow her pounding heart, reminding herself that she was truly a legitimate daughter and princess and she must act with grace and calm.

“Yes, Lady Deorwynn?” Maia said formally, curtsying.

Lady Deorwynn’s nostrils flared when Maia did not address her as queen. But Maia had never recognized the marriage; she had only ever referred to her mother as the queen. Lady Deorwynn kept watching the music, holding up her hand to prevent conversation. The song finished and everyone clapped. Maeg took her turn next, seating herself behind a giant harp. She straddled the instrument confidently, her back stiff and poised, her arms hanging loosely. Her fingers began to pluck chords, teasing out beautiful notes.

“Very good,” Collier murmured in an overly pronounced Dahomeyjan voice, nodding approvingly. “Lovely
and
talented.”

As the music swelled around them, Lady Deorwynn’s brittle voice slipped under the sweet sounds, her voice very low and private. Maia could see it pained her to be civil.

“Thank you for seeing me, Marciana. I had hoped for a chance to speak with you before your father arrived.”

Maia frowned but said nothing, waiting for the woman to speak.

Lady Deorwynn’s eyes flashed to hers, her cheeks flushing with emotion. “We have not always been friendly with each other,” she began awkwardly.

“We have
never
been friendly,” Maia corrected stiffly. “But that is understandable considering the circumstances.”

“Why must you make this more difficult?” Lady Deorwynn seethed, but she caught herself. Her jaw was trembling with suppressed wrath. She swallowed deliberately, attempting to calm herself. “Yes, I have mistreated you in the past. Do you want me to say it? Then I have said it. It was . . . beneath me. I am sorry for it, Marciana, truly I am. I do not expect you to believe me. You are young and have a vengeful temperament. Unfortunately that is very common in youths.”

“You malign me unjustly, madame,” Maia replied softly. “You should get to know me before you claim to judge my character.”

Lady Deorwynn looked at her, shocked and angry. “Judge your character? We have all witnessed your character, child. You are the most obstinate, headstrong young woman who ever left her mother’s womb! You were spoiled as a child, which made you proud. Any other child would have accepted the diminishment of her station and reconciled herself to it. Yet you have refused to do so despite all reason, dignity, and duty.”

Maia felt the angry warmth shoot all the way to her ears, but she bridled her tone. “You do not know me at all,” she replied simply. “You have never tried.”

Lady Deorwynn bristled. “I know enough . . . witnessed by my own mother. And what I have seen myself.” The lady’s green eyes closed in frustration. “Marciana, I did not come all this way to argue with you. Be civil, girl.”

Maia raised her eyebrows in bemused silence, waiting.

“I came here to celebrate Whitsunday, of course. But there are other reasons. You may not believe me, child, but I have been advocating for you with your father. Yes, it is true. I have told him that I want you back at . . . at court.” She licked her lips, and Maia noticed her hands were trembling. Maeg’s song wafted through the air, concealing the sounds of their intense conversation.

Maia stared at her, waiting.

“Have you nothing to say to that?” Lady Deorwynn demanded, apparently perplexed by Maia’s lack of a joyous response.

“I am not certain I understand you.”

“Must we be so coy?” Her voice was low, almost a growl. “I have asked your father to . . . reinstate you. To compensate you with your mother’s dower lands. You are to be a lady again, Marciana, if you can yield to common sense.”

Maia’s brow wrinkled. “What must I do in return for this . . . honor?”

“You
know
what you must do,” Lady Deorwynn snapped angrily, her full lips curled back impatiently. “You must sign the Act of Submission. The papers of reinstatement have already been drawn up. The Privy Council has seen them. Marciana, you can leave Muirwood Abbey as a lady with lands, inheritance, servants . . . all will be restored to you. You must only sign the act. What say you?”

There it was. Lady Deorwynn sought to understand in advance what Maia intended to do. She was seeking a confidence, some sort of assurance so she could be prepared to face Maia’s father with an answer.

Maia stared at her with distaste. “Tell me, Lady Deorwynn. The new Aldermaston of Muirwood, the one my father has sent. He arrives today, I believe. He is related to you, is he not?”

“I am his niece,” Lady Deorwynn said icily. “What of it?”

Maia nodded. “If he is related to
you
, then I suppose his betrayal to the order makes sense.” She turned to leave. “I will sign nothing against my conscience.”

Lady Deorwynn clutched Maia’s sleeve. “
I
did not dismiss you!”

Maia stared down at the white tendons quivering beneath the flesh of Lady Deorwynn’s hand. There were rings on her fingers, emblems of power and authority. Gemstones worth thousands of marks, and glittering diamonds set into bold bands. Maia reflected that she had given up the promise of all that when she left Naess, as well as the doom of having a Myriad One trapped inside her for the rest of her life.

“By your leave then,” Maia said tonelessly, determined to remain unruffled.

“You are a terrible creature,” Lady Deorwynn whispered. “Your stubbornness will kill you. Your father will not relent on this matter, Maia. I know his intentions. He will tread down
any
who stand in his way. The Aldermaston of Muirwood or his wife. The High Seer of Pry-Ree. He will raze Tintern Abbey to the ground. Even you, child. Even you.” She flung Maia’s hand away harshly.

Maia rubbed her wrist slowly, but said nothing as she stepped back to her seat.

Feeling shame and anger stain her cheeks, she dared not look anyone in the eye, especially Collier. She rested her hands in her lap, feeling the weight of her emotions as a burden too heavy to bear.

It was Suzenne’s turn to play next, and Maia used the reprieve to calm her thoughts. The Aldermaston had worked with her for many months to that end. Emotions would dissipate and pass. He had encouraged her to feel them, label them, understand them, and even endure them. She could almost hear his wise counsel in her mind as she sat there quietly, hands folded in her lap, enduring the shame of the moment and trying to prepare herself for yet another, worse confrontation to come with her father.

When Suzenne finished her piece on the flute, Lady Deorwynn strode forward and lifted her voice above the applause.

“Do they not all play well, my lord?” she said to Collier, all hint of antagonism vanished.

“Your kingdom is well versed in music, Lady Deorwynn,” he said most graciously. “These young women have been putting their time to good use. But . . . there is one we have not heard from yet.”

Lady Deorwynn glanced at Maia, her face suddenly vengeful. “There is no need, my lord.” She gave Maia a look that clearly communicated she was no longer welcome in the room.

“Indulge me,” Collier said with a charming foreign lilt. “I will not be satisfied until I hear her play.”

Lady Deorwynn’s color changed, but she mastered herself and did a formal curtsy to the king. “If you insist.”

“I do insist,” Collier said grandly, taking Murer’s hand and squeezing it affectionately. He clapped his other hand on hers. “I have not heard Lady Murer play.”

Lady Deorwynn was shocked. “My . . . my daughter?” she asked tremulously.

Murer’s eyes widened with surprise and sudden terror. “My . . . my lord?”

Maia almost let a smile slip onto her lips. She stared at Collier, a sense of wonder blooming in her heart.

“Yes! What instrument do you play, my dear?” He chuckled and flatteringly teased, “Or should I ask . . . how
many
instruments, hmmm?”

Murer was dumbstruck. Her mouth parted, showing her teeth, but his request had rendered her speechless.

“She can play . . .” Lady Deorwynn struggled for an adequate answer. “She can play the flute . . . no, the lute. She can play the lute. Right, dearest?”

Lady Murer was pale with misery. She shook her head. “I have not played in . . . some time.”

“The lute,” Collier said, affecting an exaggerated disappointment. “I see. You do not love music then?”

“I love music!” Murer spluttered to reassure him, blinking rapidly.

“Perhaps you prefer to hear
others
play then. Very well . . .” He quickly stood and fetched the lute from the stand. He struck a few chords himself, his fingers plaintive against the strings. Then he started a little galliard, which was a fast-paced dancing song. His foot tapped as he played. Then he stopped, midchord, and handed the lute to Joanna, who had played earlier.

“If you would, please play again for Lady Murer,” he asked her, nodding respectfully. “You know the tune, yes?”

“I do, my lord,” she replied, and taking the lute from him, she started to strum the tune he had abruptly cut off.

“I understand in Comoros you have a quaint tradition,” Collier said, holding out his h
ands to Murer and smiling handsomely. “You dance around the maypole, correct? Even a lord may dance with a wretched on that night. Is that not so?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lady Deorwynn said through gritted teeth, her visage marred by her vengeful emotions.

“In Dahomey, we dance the galliard around the maypole,” he instructed, pulling Murer to her feet. “That has been the tradition. Do you know it?” he asked Murer politely, but with a subtle mocking tone, as if he were in doubt.

“Yes, of course!” Lady Murer exclaimed, coming to her feet, relieved that she could at last do something that pleased him.

He positioned his chair in the room, leaving an open space around it. “This will be our maypole. Not quite as tall, alas, and no streamers. Everyone dances the galliard now. We invented it in Dahomey, you know. But . . . we have a
new
dance there.” He dramatically cast his eyes around the room full of ladies, entrancing them with anticipation. “It is called . . . the Volta!”

Lady Murer’s eyes widened with growing dread. “Indeed? I . . .
yes . . . I believe I have
heard
of it, but I do not
know
that one.”

Maia stared at Collier, trying to determine his true intentions and mood. She had never forgotten that one night at the Dahomeyjan inn, when he had taught
her
the Volta. That was the time—long ago, it seemed now—before she learned that he was not a king’s collier at all, but was the king himself. Her mouth went dry. It was the first time she had danced with a man since coming of age, and not for practice.