Annatrice of Cayborne (3 page)

Annatrice raised an eyebrow and looked into Tragian's silvery blue eyes.

“You have no intention of killing me. In fact you cannot wait for your boring guests to leave so that you can take me to your parlour and molest me.”

Annatrice's assertive comment brought not only absolute silence to the gathering but also open mouthed astonishment, least of all to Tragian whose face hung limp, his eyes blinking every once in a while as if in deep shock and embarrassment. Annatrice could hear Heynagan's heavy breath and feel his heart pounding in her ears. Tragian turned to look at his guests who did not dare look at his face in return; he motioned to move then halted. He arched his back and pushed his shoulders out.

“What a charming and uncompromisingly outspoken creature you are.”

The courtiers once again tittered approvingly despite their caution.

“I can see that you inherited your father's treacherous tendencies and have a penchant for flights of fancy. However, let it not be said that Tragian is an...unforgiving ruler.”

The guests exhaled a collective sigh of relief as did Heynagan who silently revered Annatrice's bold comments and outrageous bravery.

“See to it that this sharp tongued banshee is fed, bathed and clothed. Leave her in the custody of Marianne. I should like to meet this girl again when she has been properly schooled in grace and has developed a respect for her merciful monarch.”

Tragian waved the girl away and the two soldiers took to their feet ushering Annatrice from the chamber with haste. A dark robed male grasped the girl by the arm and pulled her away from the soldiers who stood and watched as she struggled against the inexorable grip. Heynagan received a desperate glance before Annatrice was thrust through an adjacent doorway and out of sight. The two soldiers looked at each other and puffed their cheeks.

“She's trouble that one. She needs silencing before Tragian finds out...” Jeaynus had realised the error of his terrible act and Annatrice's unguarded tongue was now a significant threat to him. Heynagan did not know what to say in return. In some ways, his partner was correct. Annatrice was not the mindless package of virgin flesh that they had bargained for. She was outspoken and had an uncanny ability to see the truth in people. Heynagan feared for her but more immediately feared for his own skin in greater measure. Perhaps he should have cut her throat back at the copse?

CHAPTER THREE

Annatrice stood in a warm room, the walls decorated with large colourful wall hangings. She could not initially determine what this place was in terms of its function. Her home in Cayborne had been a draughty structure with a single living space and the most basic of furnishings. She had shared it with her father for as long as she could remember. In this opulent place, it seemed that there were more chambers than there was a purpose for, it was awe inspiring for Annatrice yet a simmering jealousy existed. Considering the poverty she had witnessed, this level of wealth seemed almost obscene in comparison.

Still being roughly man-handled by the silent robed individual, Annatrice resisted to temptation to battle against his vice-like grip. She had been spared at least for the time being, it did not seem wise to further antagonise the situation.

“Marianne?” The robed man called out, his voice cutting. Annatrice was curious to meet this matriarchal figure; she had grown up mainly in the company of men and had spent little time with other girls. In some ways, this had made her a little more confident in her manner than other similarly aged daughters of Cayborne. Her father had schooled her well in the realities of her harsh existence; she did not accept kindly overbearing men or their attempts to carry her in any given task. Many of her female peers often appeared feeble and helpless. She found this kind of behaviour abhorrent and she enjoyed nothing more than getting embroiled in a physically demanding task or getting her hands dirty. Such were the demands of everyday life when it required self sufficiency and little or no aid from the monarchs coffers.

A few moments passed before an elderly woman entered the room, her hair white as if falling snow had settled upon her crown. Annatrice was immediately astonished by her flowing gown and well coiffed appearance. Annatrice had not before seen a woman of such age, and she could not help but stare at her lined features and her mottled skin.

“Marianne. The Regis has asked that this girl be tended to.” The man said not entirely confident of the reason why it must be so.

“Indeed, she is in some need. Nothing a hot bath will not cure no doubt.” Marianne's voice was soft but deep. She shuffled forward to better view her new arrival. Noticing the dried blood on her face and clothes she raised her eyebrows.

“Are you hurt, child?” She inquired. Annatrice curled her lip and shook her head brushing off the prospect of being seen to be struggling despite her aching head and terrible injuries inflicted in her defloration.

“Leave her with me Castus, I will see to her.” Marianne waved the man away who seemed glad to be free from his duties.

“Now then, what is your name?” Marianne asked as she bent down a little to be at the same eye level. A silence ensued as Annatrice pondered over her perceived level of compliance.

“Annatrice of Cayborne.” A whispered reply eventually came just as Marianne was about to concede defeat.

“Annatrice, a name I have not heard before. Fascinating. Come...meet the others.”

Annatrice seemed surprised at first but then comforted briefly as she realised that she may not be wholly alone in this frightful ordeal. Ushered through the adjacent doorway, the large chamber gave way to an even larger if not less grand chamber where it was immediately apparent, a number of young women sat playing, working or crafting. On her entry, the girls turned to see the new arrival and Annatrice stood nervously as she was inspected in an uncomfortable silence.

“As you can see Annatrice, our monarch has provided schooling for many like you who have no one else to look after them.”

As much as Annatrice was overjoyed to see other people her own age, she was bitter at the matriarch's use of words. Had it not been for Tragian, she would still have her father and not be in this position. Annatrice looked around the room which was mainly lit by lamp light as it was obviously too blustery to open the large shutters upon the far wall. There were about six or seven girls, ranging from perhaps about her age to slightly more mature young women. Some of them smiled warmly at her, others looked at her quite distastefully causing Annatrice to sneer back in return.

“After you are bathed, we can all meet more informally. Perhaps we can talk about some of the things you like to do.” Marianne's manner was kindly and gratefully received at this point. Annatrice was daunted by the prospect of a hot bath. She had barely felt the immersive warmth of hot, clean water. The tub at home was a less than enjoyable experience and in infrequent one at that.

Annatrice was shown to another large and fascinating room which was obviously a room for sleeping. A series of small but relatively luxurious beds were present and Marianne showed her to the far end of the room which was clearly for the purpose of berthing the new arrival. Annatrice was left to sit on and sample the comfort of the spongy bed as her carer shuffled off to warm the water for her bath. Bouncing up and down on the thick mat, she could not help but smile when she realised that her sleep would no longer be disturbed by the calls of wild animals, the footfalls of spiders crawling over her bare skin or the itchy woollen sheet that had sufficed up till now.

Marianne returned and even though she had been some time, it seemed like only minutes to Annatrice who had begun to revere her new berth, her tiredness almost catching up on her as she lay back across its length. The bedraggled girl was righted and ushered into a small chamber where a raging fire emanated a fierce heat and a large and deep tub of steaming hot water stood awaiting. Annatrice inspected the tub as Marianne watched curious at her new charges caution.

“I shall be drowned!” Annatrice exclaimed, daunted by the black depth of water, its radiant heat felt clearly upon Annatrice's face. Marianne laughed.

“Now, jump in and I will find you something clean to wear.”

“I shan't!” Annatrice objected most vocally.

“Oh really? Then if you will not have the grace to clean your own body I will have to do it for you!” Marianne marched over and began to tug at Annatrice's clothing. The terrified girl fought back in vain but the elderly woman was surprisingly tough and resilient.

“If you struggle, this will be worse for you!” She said repeatedly as she pulled Annatrice's' dress over her head, entangling the child in an impossible mess. Suddenly, the struggle halted and Marianne's efforts subsided. Annatrice continued her fight to pull the clothing back over her head and when she finally accomplished that, she noticed Marianne’s look of horror as she cast her eyes down upon the small girls lower regions and the dark brown smears of dried blood which covered the top of her thighs and ran down to her knees. The matriarch stood silently for a moment then relented. Leaving the room, she turned to address Annatrice on the way out.

“Wait for the water to cool a little.” She whispered and with that she left Annatrice alone and silent, the crackling fire the only audible sound.

After many minutes of swirling the water of the bath around with her finger, Annatrice slowly immerse her body in the tingling heat of the tub. Blowing quick breaths through her mouth, she almost laughed out loud as she struggled to get used to the sensation. After a few minutes, she realised that the water was cooling a little faster than she would like and regarded her wrinkled skin and unusually clean toenails. Beside the bath, there were trays of curiously smelling powders and Annatrice took great delight in dipping her finger in each and sniffing its aromatic pungency. Annatrice jumped in shock as Marianne walked in without warning, the young girls face still grubby and her hair tangled.

“The powders will clean your body and make you smell agreeable. They are not for eating!” Marianne smiled and Annatrice giggled, not for one moment realising their real properties.

“You'll shrivel into nothing if you stay in their much longer. Do not linger in the cool water, you'll catch a fever.” Marianne's words of caution were taken rather literally by Annatrice and she obeyed, speedily applying some of the soap to the water and dunking her head.

Climbing out of the tub, Annatrice's limbs felt as heavy as lead and a sudden fatigue took hold as her eyes began to close independent of her will. She stood dripping and naked in front of the fire as Marianne handed her a soft brown towel.

“Make sure to dry your hair as best you can. It is warm in here but a chill will take you if you are not careful.”

Marianne's apparent care was something to behold for Annatrice whose harsh home environment had prepared her for little of these luxuries. There was tenderness about Marianne that Annatrice had not known before. Annatrice had never known her mother, she had perished shortly after childbirth and it was only now that Annatrice felt somewhat aggrieved that she had missed out on this feeling of all enveloping comfort.

When Annatrice was dry, she carefully put on the set of clothes that had been provided for her. The materials were soft, silken and tactile. Annatrice could not help but marvel at the textures and she smoothed her own body to feel the touch of the fine cloth. For the first time in her life, she felt like a true lady, an attractive young townswoman. It was a fine experience, tempered only by the harrowing memories of her father's death which played over and over in her mind.

She was very confused. On one hand she cursed her father for being unable to provide for her this standard of living but then on the other hand feeling intolerably guilty for doing so. She loved him and missed him already. She found it difficult to even admit to herself that he was gone although in her heart, she was certain of the fact. The vision of his face, eyes open and bloodied still haunted her, his throat torn open, his body almost separated. Jeaynus and Heynagan had performed their mission with great efficiency. It was difficult for her to comprehend the reasons behind this senseless murder. Certainly she had no benign feelings towards Jeaynus and Heynagan, they had inflicted such pain, indignity and cruelty upon her, yet Annatrice was not so naïve to ignore the monarch's part in this. She had never known vengeance, it was a new and uncomfortable concept, however she realised that it was something that she must find if ever she was to be satisfied.

Disturbing Annatrice's dark thoughts, Marianne beckoned her to join the others in the day room. Now her face was free of the stains of battle and her attire was appropriate for the Royal Court, Annatrice was a formidably impressive young woman. Her diminutive frame belied her true age and it would be easy to underestimate her intellectual maturity. Taurlin may have been a peasant, but he was a wise and devoted teacher. Annatrice may not have been taught in the skills of mathematics or use of the language, but she was resourceful and skilled with her hands. She wondered how she would compare to the other girls and how they would accept her robust nature.

Annatrice was invited to sit and an excited throng of anticipation grew amongst the other ladies. She was in no mood for pleasantries, she was sore, tired and grieving, and her body language was evidently aloof. She needed time to herself. Marianne thoughtfully whispered to each girl in turn, perhaps a request to give the new arrival some space and leave questions for the next day. As they were each issued their instructions they nodded an acknowledgement. They had all been in the same position at one point or another and the empathy was clear to see.