Lunamae (8 page)

“We are doing our hair!” Lunamae shouted
back.

“We need to get everything situated and meet
Angharad at the keep to depart soon. Don’t tarry too long,” my
mother said. I watched her through the floorboard cracks; she was
carrying out a chest with the help of Logan who had decided to open
his shop a little later today—after we had all left. They headed
outside to load it up and Lunamae whispered to me.

“Do you think I should give some to Marcus?”
she cooed.

“Give some of what?” I inquired.

“My hair, silly,” Lunamae said as I finished
trimming and began work on the braids. It was rather simple in
design, only three braids that started behind her ear and as I
added hair on either side of the braid, they worked their way on
the left side of her head to her neck.

“You do realize that we are going to Fanarion
to find you a suitable husband, don’t you?” I asked with a smile. I
couldn’t help but grin at Lunamae’s veracity.

“But I don’t want to marry a stranger. I want
to marry someone I love and cherish,” she said. “I like
Marcus.”

“You are being foolish,” I warned, working
nimbly on the other side of her head.

Lunamae sighed with frustration. “Why can’t
things be changed? Why does my mother have to follow
tradition?”

“Because alliances and treaties are what keep
us alive. It connects us to our neighbors,” I explained, twirling
my finger around a lock of hair. I was nearly done with the sides
and began to twist them around her head in a band.

“Kyrie is a neighbor, sort of,” Lunamae
said.

“There are clans nearby that would be more
suitable,” I urged. “It would be different if we traded with Kyrie
but we don’t. Not since the battle. Now I’m done with your hair,
try to finish mine before we go.” We sat in solitude while Lunamae
worked on my hair, attending to it gently. When we were all ready
to go, we carefully carried our leather bags with us and put them
in the sitting area of the coach.

“Can I go say goodbye to Marcus?” Lunamae
asked me. She was of the age where she could be let wander
unattended but in the dungeons I didn’t feel it would be a good
idea. I nodded to her and motioned her forward so she could lead
the way.

When we entered the cell block Lunamae took
out a bit of her hair she had stuffed in an apron pocket. “Marcus?”
she whispered. I heard yawning in a corner. The other prisoners
were still sleeping.

“Lunamae, it’s you? I thought I wasn’t going
to see you before you left.”

“I told you I would see you every day I
could,” she answered softly. She passed the lock of hair into the
cell. Marcus took it gently.

“Your hair?” he wondered, his voice still in
a hushed whisper. It was good he was whispering because over time
his voice had deepened quite a bit.

“Yes, a gift for you. I will instruct the
maiden who will be caring for you when I’m gone to give you a piece
of paper and some ink and a quill. Write to me how you are every
single day and I will read the notes when I get back. Then it will
seem as though I haven’t ever left.” I could tell from her voice
that Lunamae was beginning to develop tears. She wasn’t the only
one.

“That is very generous of you,” Marcus said,
his voice shaky. “You had better leave before your mother catches
you down here. Return to me quickly.” Marcus said but not before he
reached out for her hand. He kissed it through the bars and
continued to hold it as long as he could before we walked away.

We headed up the familiar stairs and walked
out the main level, making sure we found Brynna first. I did stop
for a moment to notice the tapestry on the opposite wall—the one
Lunamae had finished for her mother. It wasn’t nearly as large and
grand as the one the maidens had crafted, but it was a gift from
daughter to mother and it spoke volumes.

It was hard seeing Lunamae in this state. She
was so naïve, thinking that she could marry whoever she wanted.
Marcus and she had no future together. For heaven’s sake, he was a
prisoner
. Chief Dame Angharad would have to first release
them and then she would have agree to a joining. That was about as
likely as Chieftain Leofric coming back from the grave.

We walked towards the coach where my mother
and aunt sat inside. My father was on one of the horses and a
guardsman on the other that led the coach. There was quite an
entourage on either side, ahead of, and behind the coach. We were
helped in and my aunt asked curiously,

“What were you doing in the keep?” she
demanded. “You were both supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”

“We wanted to say our farewell to Brynna,” I
said, thinking up an excuse. “She is courting my brother, remember?
We had grown quite close.” Angharad nodded in acknowledgement and
motioned my father to start the journey.

“So do you anticipate a marriage between the
two?” the chief dame asked my mother who was taken off-guard.

“Why, I had never thought of that,” she
revealed. My mother had just celebrated her fortieth birthday not
long ago but her face was still smooth. She only had a few wrinkles
around her eyes and along the sides of her mouth. She often smiled
and laughed with the maidens of the keep while keeping Angharad
company.

Angharad began detailing her plans. “The
moment it is mentioned, you must come see me so we can arrange
something proper and formal. The monks at Bexweth have been far too
quiet. I would like to get a few over to do a blessing on the
couple, administer the ceremony, and bless their house. They should
have a house, now that I think of it. I should have the master
builder start on one. Of course I couldn’t tell them that. I would
keep it a secret.” I listened for a time as they both talked
amongst themselves but the sound of the horses couldn’t keep me
awake for long. Before I knew it I had drifted off to sleep and
Lunamae with me.

I awoke as the horses stopped. We had arrived
at Bexweth Abbey and my aunt wanted to greet the monks as well as
purchase a good amount of beer for the journey. Water took time to
prepare as you had to boil it to get the impurities out but beer
was safe to drink. The last time I had seen them was at Lunamae’s
altram ceremony. We had only gone over the Text of Illumination
together in her years of study.

The chief dame was carefully helped down from
the coach while the rest of us stayed where we were. Lunamae
switched positions with my mother so we both could listen.

“Dear Brother Barri, it is
so
good to
see you again,” the chief dame said warmly, stretching out her hand
with a warm welcome. She clasped the friar’s hand in greeting and
he returned the welcome.

“It was so good of you to come,” he replied,
letting loose her hand.

“Have you considered my request to build a
chapel on our village grounds? I can expand our moat to accommodate
the work,” the chief dame inquired. This was the first I had heard
of this. While I was not involved in the hall of duty in any
capacity, my mother was there often and she had not mentioned it to
me.

“We have. It is something we are considering.
We would have to staff it of course and the monks here are very
used to their solitary lives of prayer and fasting. I am afraid
they would have issues transitioning to the new boisterous
environment. Perhaps if you included a priory as well the idea
would be better accepted. The altram ceremony a decade ago was
quite enough for the ones that accompanied me,” the friar explained
with an air of courtesy and respect evident in his voice. I could
tell he was choosing his words wisely.

I watched my aunt and the monk leave our
presence and head into the abbey. She motioned for a few guards to
accompany her to gather the beverages and carry them back for
loading up.

“I wonder what Marcus is doing,” Lunamae
said.

“There isn’t much you can do in a dungeon
cell,” I remarked. The chief dame had little to worry about because
even though the prisoners had been well fed, they couldn’t exercise
much. If they had a sword arm, it would be rather useless after all
this time. I knew they could do some very minimal exercise to keep
their bodies in decent shape but like I said—there isn’t much you
can do, especially with working on arm muscles.

“Oh Muirenn, why do you always have to be a
sour puss?” Lunamae grunted. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Like I said before, you aren’t going to
marry him. There is no use having such feelings,” I stated coldly.
I knew I was blasting my own anger at her for not having found
someone of my own to share my days with and she had, she being so
much younger than I. I wanted children now and a partner. I felt
barren. With Lunamae leaving for another altram family I would be
quite alone. Even my one-armed brother had found love. I could only
find age with the passage of time.

“Well you can be a nasty old spinster if you
want. I’m not going to live like that,” Lunamae said angrily, her
face red.

“I think you’ve said enough Muirenn,” my
mother warned. She had kept quiet and passive as she usually does.
We sat in silence until the chief dame arrived from the abbey with
guards hauling kegs of beer up to our caravan.

Once everything had been loaded up we set off
for Harper Wood. No doubt the Guardian there would greet us at some
point. The Wood always had a keeper to make sure the woods were
safe from tree poachers. The trees were cut down at certain times
to be made into musical instruments that were always in tune. Some
bandits also discovered that they made arrows and bows that also
were perfect in every way. I’d heard the Wood was always protected
by the Guardian with spells, but it was truly a mystery as well.
The Guardian did not appear often, usually only in a time of need
or if the visitors were important enough to merit a welcome. If
Lunamae was what those Kryians said—the maker of peace—I think that
would be significant.

The path to Harper Wood was quite narrow and
the guards on either side of the coach had to fall back to allow
room between the great trees. The King’s Pass on the western edge
of Feyris was wide with the trees arching over to form a ceiling,
but it had been designed that way. This path was only recently made
by merchants wanting a quicker route to Moir Awin where they didn’t
have to trek through the dangerous Swamp of Sandring. We only had a
few streams here and there that would cause trouble.

Suddenly our caravan stopped.

“What is the delay?” the chief dame called
out.

“There seems to be an obstacle in our path,”
my father replied. “I can’t see much from here but perhaps it is a
large boulder or a fallen tree limb. Do you want me to go
investigate?”

“Please,” my aunt said. I heard my father
dismount and walk up to wherever it was that was hindering our
movement. It was quiet for a while and then I heard an exclamation
of amazement. He came back, a stranger following behind him.

“You would not believe it if I told you,” he
told Angharad.

“Believe what?” my aunt demanded.

“I only conjured the illusion of an obstacle.
It was not really there. I wanted to stop you,” the woman said,
explaining. I peeked my head out to look at her. She was tall, with
hair the color of night. She had bright blue eyes under sharp
eyebrows. Her lips were the color of cherries and her teeth were
perfectly set. She was dressed in a green tunic and a short skirt.
Her legs were not unprotected as I noticed they were covered by
thick leather scales which also adorned her shoulders. She had a
sword at her back as well. Her age was hard to pinpoint. She could
have been anywhere between my age or my father’s. It was if she was
shifting through youth and age with a shield of illusion.

“Who might you be?” my aunt inquired.

“Toryn,” the woman said plainly. “What draws
you into my wood?”

“You must be the mysterious Guardian, then,”
my aunt said without missing a beat. She was clearly not
intimidated by this woman or her magical skills. “We are just
passing through on our way to Fanarion. We will not tarry.”

“Indeed,” Toryn said. “I know what business
you have there. Perhaps you should listen to the Kyrians. Or even
Taros the bard. He had heard that tale long before. I remember him
in my woods during the battle of Wortha Hill saying soon it would
all be over. He did not mean the battle.”

“Our journey is certainly not a wasted trip,”
my aunt said firmly. “It is always best for diplomatic relations to
occasionally visit those who are still peaceful.”

“Kyrie does want peace. You are the one who
has chosen not to accept it,” the Guardian said. Before the chief
dame could argue, the woman had disappeared. We could only hear her
voice in a whisper leave us with, “There is much in store for
Feyris. More than you realize.”