Hearts in Cups (52 page)
A quick knock on the
door followed by Griswold’s entrance brought the last of Ian's councilors into
the room. The core of leadership that had formed between the principal members
of the castle's staff met every morning here in a private room off the main
hall of the keep to discuss the various problems being incurred by the siege.
From the domestic staff came Squire Alaric and Dame Edwinna, and representing
the military were Sir Griswold and Sir Owain. Since emerging from her
self-imposed shell, Lady Angharad now attended these sessions as well, sitting
self-consciously at Ian's side.
Two days ago they had
witnessed the strange spectacle put on by the young man whom Ian identified as
Blaise, the newest Duke of Tuenth. At first, those watching from within the
castle had been inclined to laugh at Blaise's antics, until he was carried away
and the army dismounted and pulled back. Afterwards, survivors of the battle of
Gannerly Vale told of the catastrophic methods employed by the enemy which
demolished Lir’s forces and allowed Tuenth’s army to reach Lir and join with
the army of the Inner Ward. The news brought uneasy looks to be exchanged
between those within the castle.
A new message from the
enemy camp now compelled Ian to call for a second meeting with his staff within
an hour of disbursing from their regular session. Ian surveyed the faces of
this group of advisors noting with a certain humour that both Angharad and
Edwinna wore the voluminous homespun aprons that they considered essential to
their work of managing the castle, and that Griswold and Owain, in their high
boots with their chests covered by chain-mail, over which the tabards
displaying the Green Dragon of Langstraad were worn, nonchalantly laid their
swords before them on the table. Only Alaric went bereft of any additional
raiment.
Ian raised his hand
with the letter. "I have here another message from the Earl of the Inner
Ward and the Duke of Tuenth, which I think you should all know about." He
paused to consider the effect of his next words and decided to give a
straightforward accounting. "I have been informed that Lady Idris ap Morna
and her children are being held hostage in the enemy camp. Lord Blaise and the
Earl of the Inner Ward areproposing an exchange: Idris and her children for
Lady Angharad." His light, grey eyes raked the company.
Beside him Angharad
blanched at the pronouncement but stoically remained silent, trying very hard
not to look at the others in the room. She knew in what high regard Lady Idris
was held by those present, and imagined how unfavourable she must look by
comparison. There was also the issue of the three children.
Alaric cleared his
throat. "Does the message indicate the fate of the hostages should we
refuse?"
"It says that
their lives will be forfeit," Ian replied tightly, "but I think that
they are bluffing."
Edwinna let out a cry
at this news. "The children as well?" was all she could say. Everyone
squirmed in their seats with discomfort.
"Begging your
lordship's pardon," Griswold spoke up. "But do you know why they want
to make the exchange?"
"I suspect that Blaise
thinks it was Angharad who kept him from using his House Gift to knock the
walls down," Ian said with a sigh.
"And did you, your
ladyship?" Griswold turned his steady eyes on Angharad.
Slowly Angharad shook
her head. "No, whatever checked him, it was not I," she whispered.
She felt an abyss opening at her feet. It struck her as horribly unfair, that
just as she had begun to feel a modicum of confidence and security, she was
suddenly to be pitched into another dilemma wherein she was again nothing but a
pawn. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose as the attention of all those
present focused on her. Four prisoners for one; she almost heard the thought
aloud.
"No, Angharad had
nothing to do with preventing Blaise from toppling our walls," Ian said,
abruptly coming out of the thoughts into which he had wandered, during which he
had barely heard Angharad's response, nor noted the eyes directed at her. As he
glanced about the room, perceiving the import of what was going on, he
deliberately reached out and took Angharad's hand in his own. Icy cold, he
enfolded it protectively within the warmth of his own.
"It was Castle Lir
itself that resisted him," Ian explained authoritatively. "Remember
that this castle is one of the oldest structures in all of the Pentarchy. Magic
was used to build it, and I'm willing to bet that the magic that built it will
preserve it."
"I believe that
you're right," Alaric mused aloud. "I remember Lady Hollin once
telling me that there was a power actually residing in the stones themselves
and that it was one of the reasons that the castle had never been breached. The
castle was built before the coming of King Gryffyd and his children, and was a
place of power even then." Both Griswold and Owain nodded their heads as
Alaric's words evoked similar memories.
"That may well
be," Edwinna sniffed, "but it does not tell us what is to be done
about poor Lady Idris and her children."
Ian felt Angharad's
hand jerk, as if she would pull it out of his grasp. Gently he pressed it,
retaining his hold. "Well, the good thing is that we now know where she
is. Our next goal must be to discover a way of rescuing her." With that,
he fixed his eyes in turn on everyone in the room to ensure that what he said
next would be understood by all. "Exchanging my wife for Idris and her
children is completely out of the question, as I assume you all agree. However,
the hostages must be freed, and I have gathered you together because I have
devised a plan and I want your opinions on it.
"Many years ago, I
was taken up a secret tunnel that leads out of the castle and opens far up on
the slopes of Cloud's Rest. From there, I think that a small band of foresters
might make their way down to the enemy camp unobserved..."
As Ian continued to
outline his plan, Angharad sat beside him feeling distinctly vertiginous. In a
few words, Ian had restored her sense of self-possession and she breathed more
freely with the knowledge that she was not to be used again as a cat's-paw. Her
hand remained in his and she gripped it in thanks. Without looking at her or
halting his speech with Griswold, he returned the pressure in acknowledgment.
"But must your
lordship go? It seems to me that it is far too dangerous a mission to risk you
on." Angharad found herself listening to Edwinna's distressed voice. With
a start, she tuned more closely into what was being discussed.
"It's his
lordship's plan, so it's only fitting that his lordship have the fun,"
Griswold argued cheerfully.
Alaric looked unhappy.
"I fear that I must agree with Edwinna as to the risk. Still, it is your
lordship's choice," was his resigned admission.
"I am the only one
here who seems to have ever been through this tunnel," Ian pointed out.
"Couldn't you just
lead the men through and return to the castle?" Edwinna tried once more.
"I could, but I
won't." Ian was firm. "Listen to me; up to now I have done nothing
but administer this war from behind the castle walls. If I am to command, I
must prove myself to the men who guard those walls, as well as to myself."
"Aye, that's well
enough said," Griswold agreed, nodding his head in Ian's direction.
"I cannae go along wi' ye, but there are good fighters, mountain men, who
can move like fey shadows and do as they're bid, to go wi' ye.
"Arain is within
the castle; he brought the remaining forces back from their defeat by the Duke
of Tuenth. He knows these mountains better than anyone else. He'll be the man
you need to take you down the mountain and into the camp without raising an
alarm," Owain spoke up.
Griswold seconded him.
"A grand choice he is. 'Tis Arain who can find his way in the dark like a
cat and make not half the noise."
"I remember him;
he's a good man. Owain, contact him and let him know of our plan," Ian
charged. "We need to travel quickly and quietly, so the fewer men, the
better. Eight men?" He looked to Griswold and Owain for approval.
"Have him choose mountain men but do not let them know what is afoot until
we are assembled later tonight."
"One thing,
m'lord," Griswold said scratching his beard. "There won't be many of
ye, but t'will be lots of them. I'm thinkin' that a bit of a diversion might be
helpful to ye."
"And have you a
particular diversion in mind?" Ian tilted his head and grinned at his
swordmaster. He knew that the older man chafed at being left out of this foray
but, even in his youth, stealth had never been his forte.
"I was wonderin'
if maybe her ladyship would be willin' to do a bit of her hocus-pocus and bring
a little confusion to their camp?" He smiled encouragingly at a surprised
Angharad.
Before Ian could say
anything, Angharad spoke. "If you think that I could be of any assistance,
I would be more than happy to comply." A blush of colour tipped her ears
and cheeks.
"Are you
sure?" Ian asked with concern.
"Yes, quite,"
was her definitive answer.
"Then I'll be
comin' to fetch your ladyship in the wee hours of mornin'," Griswold said
with a broad smile. Angharad nodded complacently.
A reply was sent back
to the commanders of the besieging armies indicating the need for more time, but
with the promise of a definite answer by morning. Edwinna returned to her tasks
within the keep, aided by a thoughtful and uncommunicative Angharad. Owain and
Griswold went in search of Arain to enlist his aid for the rescue and to pick
the remainder of the company. This left Ian, lantern in hand, descending into
the depths of the castle's keep with Alaric at his side, to find the hidden
door Holly had taken him through when they were children. There at the end of a
wet, dirty corridor they found it: an iron bound wooden door barred on the
inside. Once the existence of the door was confirmed, they returned to the
keep, where Alaric suggested that Ian would do well to nap, for after dark
there would be no time.
Evening had fallen as
Angharad sat in her bedchamber before a fire and fingered the strings of a
small lute. All of her calluses had worn away, leaving fingertips that stung as
she held the strings against the neck of the instrument with her left hand. The
melody she plucked was an intricate one and it irked her when it did not sound
the way she knew it should. There was a soft rap at her door as Moira stuck her
head in and announced that Lord Ian wished a word with her, if it was
convenient. Nodding that he should be admitted, Angharad rested the instrument
against her chair as she stood to greet him.
Dressed in the dark
rough wool of a forester, his appearance was a marked change from the usual
dandyish young lord. He grinned at her, doffing the brown leather cap he wore,
and presented her with an elaborate bow.
"I came to tell
you that our band of rescuers is about to be off. Have you and Griswold worked
out the arrangements for your part in tonight's activities?" He spoke in a
light, bantering voice that was patently meant to reassure her.
"Yes, Sir Griswold
will come to fetch and escort me to the castle walls two hours before
dawn," she recited. She dropped her eyes to where her hands played with a
fold of her pale blue over-garment. To his eyes, it seemed that she had regressed
once more into the fragile girl-child and he grew worried that she would be
over-taxed by what she was being asked to do this night.
Suddenly her
blue-violet eyes were looking into his and they were not the eyes of a child.
He swallowed and looked away, finding the unexpected rush of emotion that hit
him to be far more intense than he felt capable of dealing with at that moment.
To want a woman, even a particular woman, was not a new sensation for him.
However, not only was this an inappropriate and inconvenient time for those
feelings, but he was totally unsure of her response. That they had become
friends during the last weeks was a major step for her, and he was unwilling to
do anything that might jeopardize her current trust in him. Thinking it to be
folly to stay any longer, he began to say good-bye when she stepped forward so
that they were but a few inches apart and lifted her head, forcing him to look
directly into her face.
Angharad watched the
confusion in Ian's eyes give way to understanding as he bent to kiss her. In
that tight embrace they stood for the count of many heartbeats. Minds and
pulses raced together as Ian kissed her with growing passion and felt her
ardent response. At length, he raised his lips from hers and pulled her close
to his chest, her hair tickling his face. At once he was terribly aware of the
smell and silkiness of her hair threatening to undo his resolve.
"I don't know how
it has happened," he heard her say softly against his chest, "but I
am in love with you, Ian de Medicat."
The confession, spoken
aloud, almost hurt him to hear it. In all his adventuring, many had told of
liking, admiring and enjoying, but never, really, of loving him. Holly had
loved him, he knew, and it had not been a love without passion, but it had been
a love that neither of them could openly acknowledge nor fulfill. All too well,
he knew that his various liaisons were simply fill-ins for the one he really
wanted, and that they had known it as well. But this was a situation entirely
new to him. Since the night that he had been summoned to Angharad's room after
her ordeal in using the House Gift of Creon, a growing apperception of her had
been overtaking him. Out of a mixture of friendship, protectiveness, admiration
and sympathy had now sprung a physical desire. All of these emotions were now
conspiring to push him head over heels into love with this girl.