Chained (Chained Trilogy) (10 page)

They were welcomed into the inner bailey, but told by Waleran himself that they would not be welcomed into the keep.

“If you are on your way in the morning, you may make camp in the bailey and eat of your own provisions,” Waleran said to them from the front steps of his keep. “There are men-at-arms here who will defend this place if need be, and I’ll have no trouble.”

Caden studied fat Waleran Buron with a deep scowl.
His sentiments could very well echo those of the people of Vor’shy, as well as all of Dinasdale.

“We accept what is given,” Caden replied cordially, “and thank you for your hospitality.”

Waleran left them in the bailey under guard and returned to his keep. As the squires began building cook fires, Asher appeared at Caden’s side.

“I like this not, brother,” he s
tated, staring at the closed doors of the keep. “This is not hospitality, not for the heir of Minas Bothe.”

Caden shrugged. “Ma
yhap Waleran is overly cautious. His hold is small and his men are few.”

Yet, even Caden did not believe his own words. Something felt wrong here, and Waleran’s cold reception left him feeling as paranoid as his lord father.

“Cautious or not, I still do not like it.”

Nor do I, Asher,
Caden thought to himself.
Nor do I.

Chapter Four

In just one more day, Gwen would belong to
Gaiwan Bainard body and soul. Though, it wasn’t her body she worried over, but her soul. In the four days since the Bainards had arrived at Seahaven, her betrothed had displayed some less than desirable traits that left Gwen wondering just who she was marrying. He was good-natured so long as everything was to his satisfaction, but Gwen had glimpsed another side of him several times already. He’d screamed at a young page for spilling wine on the sleeve of his doublet before cuffing the poor lad on the side of the head. He was known to pout and glower when someone said something untoward, or when things did not go his way. He was rude and condescending to servants, and spoke disparagingly of the poor.

Gods, what have my mother and father sentenced me to?
she thought as she dressed for the temple. The dagged sleeves of her silver samite overgown swept the floor, revealing the powder blue sleeves of her kirtle beneath. A black belt cinched her waist, the edges of it embroidered in silver scrolls. Her skirts parted in the front to display more silver embroidery on the hem of the blue kirtle. A sheer, white veil edged in delicate lace covered her hair and face. A slender coronet encrusted with sapphires rested on top, and her hair flowed down her back beneath the veil. All women went veiled into the temple, as it was said that a woman’s beauty was an enticement too tempting for the male gods to bear.

Lynet was garbed in a similar fashion, though her clothes were plainer, her fabrics less rich. Her kirtle and overgown were simple linen
and wool and her veil was plain, her head unadorned. The two walked arm and arm from the keep, crossing through the inner bailey and the barbican leading to the outer bailey. The large, stone temple was built in the northwest corner of the outer bailey, situated against the outer curtain wall.

Once within the walls of the temple, Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. Here, now, she was safe even if just for a short time. Perhaps one of the gods would hear her prayers and grant her the peace she needed to rest easily at night.

“Attend your own prayers, Lynet,” she said softly to her maid as they paused within the vestibule of the temple so that one of the white-garbed priestesses could lift their veils and smear palm oil across their foreheads. “I will meet you after and we shall greet those at the gate together.”

“Many blessings,” the priestess murmured as
she lowered the veils back into place and ushered them into the main hall of the temple.

“Many blessings to you,” Gwen replied
. The doors closed behind them. Others had come, kneeling silently at one of the four altars in each corner of the room. The marble likenesses of the gods and goddesses loomed twelve feet tall, their eyes overlooking the temple. The morning sun filtered through high, arched windows fitted with stained glass, which cast prisms of colorful light over Gwen’s gown and veil as she entered the room. The priestesses paused in their work to curtsy to their lady before going back to their tasks: sweeping the marble floors, lighting incense, filling cups of wine for those finishing their prayers.

Gwen paused in the very center
of the temple and knelt. Though many beseeched the god or goddess they felt the most kinship to, Gwen respected and prayed to them all equally. Facing north, she turned her eyes up to Tinitas, God of the Air and Sea. His marble white statue held a gigantic, iron trident inlaid with sapphires, and a crown of gold sat atop his head. His hair flowed down his back in curls, and his forked beard stretched down to his chest. His mouth was hard and cruel, and his eyes were without kindness. Of all the gods, Tinitas was the most feared. His whims could control the storms and the sea, which in Daleraia meant the difference between life and death, bountiful harvest and a plentiful catch, or starvation.

Tinitas
, give me strength,
Gwen prayed,
steel my soul and make me hard and brave like you. Give me the courage to do what I must for the sake of my family and the good of Dinasdale.

Turning west, she lifted her eyes to Lorimis,
Goddess of the Earth and Forests. Her eyes were actually green sapphires, staring out of her white marble face. A crown of fresh flowers was placed upon her head daily by the priestesses, whom climbed ladders to see to the task. Her likeness was nude, save for the ivy leaf that covered her womanhood, and the fall of her hair shielding her breasts.

Lorimis,
she prayed,
watch over the women of Dinasdale. May they pass safely through your woods without fear of murder or rape.

The incident during her hunt still disturbed Gwen, and her concern for the women of Seahaven and beyond ran deep.
It was always the weaker sex that suffered when men lost themselves to bloodlust.

Turning south, Gwen knelt to Rothgar,
God of War. Armored from head to toe, only his eyes showed through the slit in his marble helm. He held a longsword in both hands, the point of it touching the floor between his boots. The hilt was pure silver set with gleaming moonstones. A large eagle was perched upon his shoulder. It was said that Rothgar’s bird saw all, and was as cunning and swift as its master.

Rothgar, I beseech you to find no cause for war here. Have mercy on the people of Alemere and stay the hands of our enemies.

Facing east, Gwen prayed last to Kya, Goddess of Love and Benevolence. A crown of golden stars adorned her head, and a heart made of a red ruby was upon her chest. In her arms she cradled a babe, and at her feet was the figure of a man, who stared up at her with adoration.

Kya, fill my heart with affection for my betrothed,
she begged the goddess.
Fill me with passion and fire, and kindness enough to banish his cruel and selfish ways. Make me fit to be a queen, fill me with a heart for the people I will one day serve.

When her prayers were said,
Gwen accepted a bundle of incense from one of the priestesses and walked to each of the four corners of the temple, bowing to each statue as the spicy scent of the incense cleansed her from the inside out.

As she and Lynet left the temple, Gwen felt renewed, and hoped her good mood lasted the day. Lifting her veil back from her face and allowing it to drape around her shoulders, Gwen led Lynet to the gate, where they were joined by five other priestesses. It was Gwen’s custom to
greet Seahaven’s poor at the castle gates every morning to bless them, and fill their arms with bread and cloth for clothing, and toys for their children.

There were many, as there were every morning, each with a need.

“Many blessings … bless you,” she murmured as they pressed upon her and Lynet, reaching out their arms for the offerings they took from their baskets. “Rosie, here darling, this herb will soothe your babe’s cough. Gya, I sewed these hosen by hand for you, dear. No, no, Henry, only one handful of almonds, sweet, save some for the other children.”

Gwen smiled at them and kissed the children, delighting in th
e joy it brought her to help them.

“Just think
, m’lady,” Lynet said an hour later as they returned to the keep, “when you are queen, you can do the same in Lerrothe, only you’ll have far more food, cloth, and wealth at your disposal.”

Gwen smiled at Lynet, who was always able to see the good. “You are quite right,” she agreed. “
Becoming Gaiwan’s bride seems more enticing by the day.” Gwen faltered as they entered the hall to find her mother waiting for her with Queen Rhiannon and Princess Rosalie. “Gods, I spoke too soon,” she grumbled, causing Lynet to giggle.

“Darling!” Lady Enid exclaimed as she rushed forward, arms outstretched. She took Gwen’s shoulders and kissed the air near Gwen’s cheek. “We’ve been waiting all morning for you. Come, come, there isn’t a moment to lose. First, there is the final fi
tting for your ceremony ensemble, and then the bridal inspection.”

Gwen frowned. “Inspection?”

“A Lerrothian custom, dear,” Princess Rosalie injected with a smug grin. Gwen had not spent much time with the woman who would soon be her sister-in-law, but found there wasn’t much to recommend her. Rosalie’s beauty was her greatest attribute; her coloring and features were similar to Gaiwan, and they possessed the same striking blue-green eyes. There was a haughtiness there that Rosalie tried to hide beneath a thin veil of politeness. “The mother of the bridegroom must inspect the bride to ensure that she is fit to bear his sons. Surely, you understand? Gaiwan is a prince after all. The continuation of the royal line is of the highest importance.”

Gwen felt her fingers curling into a fist, which she hid within the dagged sleeves of her gown. Her jaw tightened as she fixed a cool stare upon
Rosalie. “Will she count my teeth as well?” she asked sweetly.

Lady Enid frowned. “Gwendolyn, really. Come, we will break our fast in my solar before we begin the fitting. The inspection can wait until after. Your Graces, you must excuse us.”

Queen Rhiannon inclined her head. “Of course, dear Lady Enid,” she said imperiously, “we shall call upon you in your solar in two hours. I assume that time is sufficient enough.”

Enid executed a perfect curtsy and smile. “If it please
s Your Grace.”

Gwen was
obligated to curtsy as well before the two Bainard women took their leave. Her mother’s grip was tight on her arm as she propelled her toward the staircase leading to the ladies’ solar. “Honestly, child,” she admonished, once they were out of earshot of the great hall. “Where are your manners?”

Gwen deflated as she followed Enid to the solar, her previously good mood forgotten. “I suppose they’ve run away from me again, Mother,” she snapped. “Perhaps you will find them wherever Rosalie has hidden hers.”

Enid turned on her as they neared the doors of the solar. “That is enough,” she whispered. “Do you want to embarrass me? Is that what you want? If it is, then you are well on your way, Gwendolyn. Gods, what did I ever do to deserve such a daughter … willful, disrespectful. It’s unnatural.”

“I am sorry if I displease you so, Mother,” Gwendolyn
replied drily. “I suppose I shall have to do with my father’s love.”

“Why would I go to such lengths to see you well matched if not for love?” Enid asked as they entered the solar. Warm, balmy air wafted
into the room through the large, open window, causing the white, sheer curtains to billow inward. The smell of sea and salt mingled with that of incense, and the table where Enid often entertained her lady friends when they came to visit was prepared with breakfast. “This is your father’s wish as well, you now,” Enid said as they sat at the table. Tea was served, and Gwen sipped gingerly at the hot liquid. “We’ve no way of knowing what day might be his last, you would do well to remember that.”

Enid was right about that, at least. Gwen and
Orrick had visited with Lord Clarion after their meeting in the garden, and she’d seen for herself just how far he had declined. It seemed that every time she saw him, he grew more and more ravaged by illness. Seeing her wed to Gaiwan was like to be one of the few joys he’d have left before departing this world, aside from possibly seeing Evrain sire a son upon his wife. It had yet to happen, but they were still newly married. Josaine would quicken soon, and Lord Clarion might be blessed to hold his first grandchild before he died.

“You are right,” Gwen conceded as she cracked the shell of a boiled egg with her spoon. “Forgive me,
Mother, I know you’ve gone to great lengths to arrange this betrothal ceremony. I suppose I am only nervous.”

Enid smiled, her eyes softening.
Gwen was a mirror image of her, though her mother’s frame was shorter and plumper. Her dark hair was hidden beneath black and gold latticed escoffion and a black wimple, but Gwen knew it to still be as black and lustrous as it had been in her youth. A few lines appeared around her eyes when she smiled, but Lady Enid rarely smiled, and so her face remained smooth and lineless.