Wild Is My Love (6 page)

Giselde did not have to ask Trosdan if he would keep Alysa’s existence secret from the Vikings, for she knew his feelings about their barbaric ways. “The survival of this land and people is more important than Alric’s miserable life,” she said. “If Isobail is allowed to continue,
all is lost. Between the prowess of the Hawk and our magic, we will save Alysa and Damnonia.”

The old woman glanced at the simmering potion in the cruse and called Briac Crisdean to mind. A man’s family was responsible for a member’s deeds, so it was Gavin’s duty to set right the wrongs of the past which had been partially from his father’s weakness for Catriona. Besides, Giselde mused, no harm should come of her spell. Love was meant to be wild and wonderful and mysterious, as hers had been for and with her Viking husband Rurik.

The wise man cautioned, “Concentrate on the Evil that surrounds us and how we must fight it. A war has begun in which powerful forces will battle, and the losses will be great. Not even a powerful wizard or the gods can control a war between Good and Evil. Your valiant warrior does not know about the forces confronting him. Let us see what the runes say about our hero and this forthcoming battle…”

Alysa stood at her chamber window, gazing out at the inner ward of Malvern Castle, her home since birth over eighteen years ago. Malvern Castle was large and picturesque, one of the most well laid-out castles in all of Britain. The inner ward, or bailey, where most castle dwellers lived and worked, was constructed nearly in a square, with thick walls lined with defensive parapets stretching from tower to tower at each corner. The outer ward, large enough to hold the two closest villages, was surrounded by an imposing battlement which totally encircled the magnificent compound. Beyond the battlement the entire setting was protected by a wide and deep moat on three sides with a river on the fourth. Each entrance in the outer wall was guarded by two gates and a drawbridge.

The castle sat high on the riverbank, with its southwestern side sloping abruptly to the river wall, too steeply pitched for a direct assault, even if enemies were lucky enough to conquer the battlement. Alysa could see the river from a side window in her sleeping chamber, and she often enjoyed the lovely sight.

From her viewpoint, she could see little of the outer ward, but she knew the location and purpose of each area. Stables and barns for the knights’ and soldiers’
horses were built against the northwest wall of the inner bailey, with tiny rooms for stable lads. Beyond; animal pens and fowl cages lined the base of the battlement. The northeast area was lined with fruit trees and small herb and vegetable gardens, to sustain life if the castle fell under a lengthy siege. The southeast section, which Alysa could see from her sitting chamber window, served as the training yard for knights and squires.

The site, construction, and garrisoning of a castle were vital to a ruler because it provided a defense against enemies, discontented peasants, and rival lords. It also provided the ruler’s subjects with stability and protection against foreign conquest which would throw their lives into chaos. A ruler controlled all of the land and people in his kingdom, and he could reclaim land grants or have people arrested and slain if he saw fit: crucial reasons to have a wise and just and valiant ruler.

Alysa thought about the duties that her father was allowing others, particularly Isobail, to carry out in his name. A responsible and honorable ruler traveled his lands most of the time, holding court in the castles of feudal lords or stopping in villages and hamlets to show himself to his people and to hand down judgments. A wise ruler visited lords to bestow knighthood and favors on those worthy of them. A smart ruler met with his retainers to discuss defense and problems in each area. And he hunted with his high-ranking subjects to study their loyalties, to show courtesy toward them, to retain their homage.

A just ruler was supposed to tell peasants when they could sell or trade animals or abodes, and to inspect their farms and workshops. He was to make judgments where crimes or misdeeds were involved, and settle boundary disputes. He was to approve, deny, or command betrothals and marriages, and collect fair taxes and special fees. Yet Prince Alric saw to none of these duties anymore, and many noticed this failure.

Giselde had told Alysa about the dissension growing among the powerful feudal lords, and the grumblings in many villages. The people no longer felt safe in this land, for they were burdened by Isobail’s demands. Her taxes had nearly impoverished them, and her harsh punishments were resented. Too, the countryside had been terrorized by wandering bands in recent months, and no one in authority appeared capable of putting an end to it. At first they had feared for Prince Alric’s health and prayed for his recovery. Then they had grown rebellious at the troubles his absence created in their lives. Many spoke out for a new ruler, and many of those rebels vanished or were slain by the marauding raiders.

One lord, Friseal, who had tried to incite the others to speak out against Alric and Isobail, had been arrested and executed for treason at Isobail’s command, and his holdings confiscated and granted to Sheriff Trahern. The other three lords had been unable to help their unfortunate friend, for the man had spoken out publicly against their rulers, and many retainers had borne witness against him in the royal court. Alysa’s father had presided over that court but had been unable to grant his vassal mercy, as the crime of treason had been proven against him. Yet Giselde had told Alysa that the matter had been instigated by Isobail’s men, and the witnesses against the vassal had lied.

Worse, Giselde had told her that Isobail was plotting to take over every feudal estate in Damnonia and place her royal retainers in control of them. Alysa thought about the three remaining lords—Orin, Daran, and Fergus—and she fretted over their safety. She could not help but wonder if Isobail would also try to take Sir Kelton’s castle at Land’s End—property that once belonged to Isobail and her first husband, Lord Caedmon Ahern—and give it to her son, Moran. Long ago Isobail had struggled to retain Caedmon Castle for Moran, but
Alric had refused to allow a woman with small children to keep such a vital stronghold. Alric had taken Isobail and her children into his protection by bringing them to Malvern Castle and making Isobail his wife’s waiting woman. How could a woman love and wed a man who had taken her home and son’s heritage from her? Alysa wondered. But such conjecture presupposed that Isobail was capable of feeling love for another person—an unlikely supposition.

If Isobail was plotting against Sir Kelton and the other lords, she would know soon, as Moran’s knighthood was approaching, a rank that required money and land before it could be bestowed. And if Giselde was right about the raids on the villages, then Isobail was trying to frighten the peasants into obeying her every whim. This land would run red with innocent blood if Isobail was allowed to carry out her intent. Alysa knew she needed proof of her wicked plots, and had to figure out how to obtain such proof and get it to King Bardwyn, her grandfather.

Alysa’s chambers were in the south tower on the second floor, the smallest tower of the compound, the one built for nurseries and children, their guardians and teachers. The space and privacy had not been necessary, as Alric and Catriona had had only one child. Her handmaiden Thisbe’s room was nearby, along with Alysa’s privy and wardrobe. Beneath her on the first floor were the chambers of Princess Isobail’s son and daughter by the deceased Lord Caedmon—Kyra and Moran Ahern—when Prince Moran was home.

To her right was a lengthy section housing knights and their squires, the prince’s guard, the armory, and the men’s eating hall. Then came linked twin towers on the western corner, which served as a massive gatehouse with its imposing turrets and portcullis, structures that were fortresses in themselves and served as the only entrance to the inner ward. The buttress-connected towers
contained the royal stables and farriers on the lower floors, and military retainers—castle watchmen, men-at-arms, and archers—on the second floors. Here was where her beloved friend Sir Piaras, the knight trainer, lived and worked.

Another lengthy section with numerous rooms and workshops was located between the gatehouse and the north tower. This was where the skivvies, armorers, smiths, carpenters, and other craftsmen labored in service for their ruler. Some slept in their workshops, while others lived in the nearby village or had huts along the inner wall of the southeast battlement.

The second floor of the north tower held the chapel and guest quarters for the traveling priest. Also Leitis, another of Alysa’s favorite and most trusted servants, a woman in charge of the other female servants at the castle, had her quarters in the north tower. The butcher lived on the first floor, and did his tasks there, along with the candle and soap makers. Below ground was a dungeon which, fortunately, was rarely used.

The span between the north tower and the Great Tower housed servants, who often slept along the hallways on straw palliasses. It also contained rooms for food and grain storage, and areas were the wash was done, especially when the weather was cold or rainy.

The Great Tower, where Damnonia’s rulers lived and governed, was a large, rectangular keep comprised of two interlocked towers. The buttery—for wines, cheeses, and butter—and the bakery were located in a section of the lowest level of the keep, as was the pantry for current food use, with the kitchen and cooks’ quarters taking up the entire area of the first floor.

Alric’s chambers were situated on the second floor of one of the two towers, an area that provided the most protection in case of an attack. The other tower of the keep housed Princess Isobail and her personal servant Ceit on the second floor and the Great Hall on the
first floor. The span between the keep and Alysa’s tower was living and working quarters for Guinn, the castle bard; Earnon, Isobail’s advisor and friend; Baltair, Alric’s personal advisor, friend, and Malvern Castle’s seneschal; the stewards; and quarters for high-ranking guests.

Malvern Castle was a large and busy place which ran efficiently, but the joy of many of its workers had lessened under Isobail’s control. Many knew her to be harsh and demanding, as was Kyra.

Alysa was glad she had avoided both women today, since she hated to spend energy and time battling words with them. Surely by now everyone had left the Great Hall and was going about his or her business. It was nearly dark, so she hoped she could sneak across the inner courtyard and up the spiral steps to visit her father. It was obvious that Isobail was trying to keep them separated as much as possible. The question was: Why?

Alysa wished she had the courage to use the secret passage that encircled the entire castle on the lowest level, which had concealed spiral staircases and openings only in Alric’s and Alysa’s towers and in the dungeon. Those stairways were very steep and narrow, and the passageway was only wide and tall enough for one person to travel at a time. An underground escape tunnel ran from the gatehouse to the river wall, where an entrance was hidden by rocks, water, and overgrown brush. Only Alric and Alysa knew of its existence; for as was common, such builders were slain the moment it was completed, to prevent its exposure. Since it had never been used, Alysa could imagine the numerous spiderwebs and rats that must infest it by now, not to mention the utter darkness of the passageway. She shuddered at the thought of entering it alone and walking the great distance to her father’s chambers. No doubt, with the height of the river, the escape hole was underwater. Only the steep slope of the riverbank kept
water from flooding the tunnel and steps, if its use was ever required.

Cautiously Alysa slipped from her tower and edged her way along the inner wall to the Great Tower. Sighting no one who would stop her, she raced up the steps past the kitchen and quietly approached her father’s chamber door. She was relieved, yet worried, to find no guard or servant on duty there. She knew Baltair, his seneschal and advisor, was handling business for him at Lord Orin’s.

She eased the door open slightly and listened for company. Hearing nothing, she sneaked into the dim sitting room and gazed about. The room seemed smelly and damp, and sad, almost as if it were trying to discourage life and visitors. Only two candlesticks—one near the entrance to the hall and one near the entrance to Alric’s sleeping chamber—were lit, and their glow was hardly visible in the large area. Massive wood furniture appeared oppressive without warm light to reveal the wood grains and workmanship. Even thick drapes were closed over unopened windows, preventing fresh air and fragrant scents from entering the room. Not even a small fire smoldered on the oversized hearth in a dark corner. No papers, books, or quills cluttered his huge writing table. It was as if this chamber was never used or aired. No wonder her father’s mood was persistently gloomy!

Alysa crossed the floor and stood before her father’s inner door. How strange to feel nervous about visiting him. She wondered if she should knock or simply push the door aside and enter; she did the latter. This was the first time she had been in her father’s chambers in several weeks, and she was shocked and angered to discover the way her father was existing, or being abused. At least a servant should be present to tend him!

The curtains were secured to the posts at each corner of the huge bed, which seemed to swallow the form
lying on it. The room was damp and malodorous, like a dank, unused cellar, and she wondered how he could endure such unpleasant and unhealthy surroundings. Why had Baltair done nothing to correct this unforgivable condition? Why had she not been informed of it? When morning came, she would demand to speak to Isobail about this matter.

She flung aside the heavy coverings and opened several windows, inhaling the sweet odors of the evening air. The muffled sounds of animals, night birds, and people’s voices ended the deathly silence in the room. She lit every candle she could find to dispel the dispiriting darkness. “Father?” Alysa called to him as she sat down on the edge of his bed.

Alric’s face was sweaty and pale. Though fifty years old, he looked much older tonight, older and weaker than when she had been allowed to see him last: two weeks ago. The sandy brown shade of his hair was losing its battle with lifeless gray, and its curls had vanished. Only years ago his body had been as taut as an archer’s bowstring and as golden as ripe wheat, but now it was flaccid and white. His profile had been that of a man of royalty; now it was marred like a chipped blade. Where was the handsome, strong, and valiant man he had once been? Alysa wondered sadly as tears glimmered in her blue eyes.

“Father?” she called to him again, stroking his clammy brow. “Are you ill? Shall I fetch you something?”

Alric stirred slightly. It seemed as if he were sinking into a bottomless pit at a very slow pace. He felt weak and lifeless, as if it were easier to yield to the forces pulling him ever downward rather than battling to escape his trap. He heard his child calling to him, and he knew he had to find the strength to answer her. Soon, he feared, all of his strength would be gone forever. Soon he would pay for his foul misdeeds. If only
the gods could show mercy, could call back the sands of time, could allow him to live his life of the past twenty-one years over again…