The Lost Lady Read online

  The back hall was a rather dark place that ran the back of the castle on the main floor with the sewing gallery above. The knights slept in there as the barracks were small and already full, with the exception of Sir Gregori who bunked in the rooms of the castle’s chapel in the base of one of the curtain wall’s towers. She had tried to make the dungeon-like space comfortable for them, but they assured her that it was paradise compared to what they had endured on campaign. Luveday took their word for it.

  Chapter 4

  Meek leaves drop yearly from the forest-trees

  To show, above, the unwasted stars that pass…

  ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  A breeze ruffled the leaves above their heads, and Luveday stopped a moment to enjoy it. The days were turning warmer; there was more than a hint of summer on the air. The small group of women talked amongst themselves as their male protectors scanned the area for signs of trouble. The men took turns looking vigilant and bored beyond measure. They were not happy to be assigned this particular task, preferring to participate in the contests of skill that had sprung up between the men as of late.

  Luveday sympathized with them. The contests were impressive to watch, and the knights’ skills were so good that it rarely ended in injury. She had watched a few of the pairs locked in combat and wondered if it wasn’t Lord Iain’s need to expel some of his pent-up emotions that prompted these exercises.

  Perhaps he felt as stifled in the castle as she had. Emmalyn, seeing Luveday’s unrest, had suggested they take an outing in the woods to replenish some of the castle’s supplies. They hunted for wild berries, mushrooms, and herbs. Cassandra and Emmalyn taught her what to look for and how to harvest items without killing the plants. It was all about sustainable collecting, though they didn’t call it such. They cautioned about taking too much, as both had seen areas plucked clean of common healing herbs that left a community in danger. Luveday listened to their warnings with care.

  The women stopped at midday to eat a light meal before heading back to the keep. Luveday’s spirit felt lighter after the outing, and as she looked across the fields, she spotted an evenly spaced cropping of trees. She shielded her eyes against the sun and looked out to see men walking under the barren branches. Spring was in full swing though many of the trees were not yet thick with leaves. Turning back to join the women she gestured toward the grove as she asked Lady Emmalyn about them. “What are those trees opposite us? There are men out there.”

  Emmalyn looked out to see if she recognized the figures. “That is the orchard.” She sighed heavily. “What’s left of it. There are more fruit trees behind the castle, but they look the same.”

  “I take it they are doing poorly?” Luveday picked up a piece of dried fruit and wondered for the first time where it had come from.

  “And have been for many years,” Elli added.

  Cassandra nodded as she sat on her wrap under the shade of the trees. “The man who cared for the orchards died several years ago; they have not been doing well since.”

  Elli leaned back as she munched on a bit of fresh bread. “They produce less and less fruit each season. I heard the men say that they might be sick, and we might have to burn them, but that was a few years ago.”

  Luveday was shocked. Diseased trees were no small thing. If the castle depended on their fruit, replacing those trees would mean importing new stock from somewhere else, when and if, they could kill whatever plagued these in the first place. Not to mention the fact that it would take years before the new trees were old enough to bare a good yielding of fruit. Did Iain have the coin to purchase a whole orchard of trees? No wonder he had been so concerned.

  Sighing to herself, the image of the orchard stayed with her, not only as the women gathered their belongings and headed back to the castle, but through the following days. Luveday had a very basic knowledge of fruit trees, which was probably more than most people in her time had. She liked to tell her family that she knew a little about a lot of things, but not very much about anything useful. Annalisa had always agreed with her, but it was Luveday her sister turned to if she needed help with anything. Being a researcher by trade meant that she knew where to gather the knowledge others were looking for. Thanks to her sister’s organic homegrown philosophy, Luveday’s whole family had started to garden and plant their own produce. Their father had a small impromptu orchard, an orange tree, apple, peach, plum and a very old pecan. Trees were planted over the years, though like the castle orchard, they had never produced a bountiful supply of fruit, at least not in Luveday’s memory.

  That was until her father got it into his head to prune the trees. Luveday was roped into helping him as Annalisa was a busy mom. They had gotten a little carried away, and by the time the pair was done the trees look as if there had been a massacre, leaving Luveday to wonder if they would survive the devastation. Unexpectedly, they had lived, and not only did they grow new limbs, but they also produced so much fruit that her father had to remove most of it before it was even ripe to keep the new shoots from breaking under the heavy weight.

  Luveday walked the orchard a few days later. She was alone and looked at the trees for signs of infestation or fungus, but didn’t see any, though she hoped she remembered the signs correctly. It had been at least two years since she worked on the fruit trees with her father. They had had some pest problems and a little mold but had caught it early. These trees looked healthy though old, there were signs of insect activity, but it didn’t look like an infestation. What did one expect without pesticides anyway? She thought.

  Warin wove through the trees to reach her, not knowing that the lord of the keep was hot on his heels. “Lady Luveday!” He called out to her. Cassandra’s husband was a nice man, a good man-at-arms and always polite and friendly to the women of the keep. “Lady!’

  “Warin! What are you doing here?” Luveday asked as she checked a low hanging branch for signs of life. She broke the branch to see the green inside and was relieved that the trees were still alive though not yet budding.

  “It’s not safe to be out here alone, Lady!” Warin was breathing heavily by the time he reached her.

  She turned to look at him, perplexed, “Not safe?”

  Her companion looked away at the castle in concern as if he had said too much. “‘Tis best to take a man with you if you go out. Just in case.” He looked at her, hoping she would catch his meaning.

  “Aye, just in case.” Luveday agreed, concern flooding her system and causing her nerve endings to tingle. Looking at the twig she held in her hand, she switched topics as Warin ushered her back the way he had come. “Do you know who cares for the orchard, Warin? Cassandra said the man had died years ago, but someone must look after them.”

  Warin spotted his lord, but Iain gave him a look and followed at a distance. It was strange behavior, but then Iain was strange where this lady was concerned. Lord Iain had made several trips to the Abbey but had yet to persuade his bride to leave its comforts or its protection. Turning his thoughts back to the Lady, Warin answered as best as he could recall. “I do not think anyone cares for the trees, a few of the village men look after them, but they have no skill at it.” He paused. “Archer spent some time with the old man, ‘twas a friend of his father’s, perhaps he will know something about them.”

  Luveday smiled. Archer was a young and rather handsome man-at-arms. He had a new bride, and they shared a cheery little cottage near the forest. “I will ask him about them when we return. Thank you, Warin.”

  “‘Twas nothing, My Lady,” Warin spoke little on their way back, concentrating on his breathing and getting them both inside the walls as soon as possible. Lord Iain shadowed them for a good distance. It was his Lord’s expression upon hearing that the lady had gone outside on her own that had caused Warin to go after her. There were signs of men in the woods; men not part of the village. Perhaps they were just passing through, as the road before the Abbey was a busy one this time of year, but perhaps they had other plan
s. As Warin had said, better to be careful; just in case.

  Archer was happy to walk with the Lady in the orchard and tried to answer her many questions. Archer had spent a good deal of his youth beside Grummand, the foreigner, who had taken care of the castle’s orchard and gardens for many years. The man could grow anything, and when he passed the castle had suffered. He had been quiet, a lot like the trees he cherished, and no one knew how much Grummand had seen to until the tasks went undone. Now the lady was making him think of things he had not thought of in years, certainly not since he took up his position in the castle.

  “The trees have not been cut in many a year.” Archer looked at the mass of branches overhead and was sad to see them bare, like long bony fingers. If memory served, they should have been full of leaves and new buds beginning to bloom. “Grummand, the man who took care of the trees, he would cut them every other year I think. Called it shaping, like he was carving something out of the branches.”

  “Yes, that sounds about right. So, it has been years since they were cared for?” Luveday had made a list of everything that she could remember about caring for the trees, but she was still unsure of herself. So, she had decided to experiment. She would try out her ideas on a few of the trees, five to be exact and see if her project produced any results. The rest of the orchard would be her base group, the unbiased measure of her success or failure.

  With many ideas in mind and Archer at her side, she recruited several men to help since no one was willing to let her do it herself. Over the next few days, the group’s notoriety wore off, and villagers stopped dropping by or taking notice. The group started by pruning the trees and cutting off any branches that pointed straight up or down. On two trees they cut off the tops so that the trees would grow out rather than up. Any major cuts were patched with tar and left. They dumped several buckets of fertilizer, a mixture of water and chicken manure, and watered some more to let it sink into the roots. Mounds were built around the base of the trees creating little moats to hold in the water. It took a few days of hard work with Luveday supervising and occasionally showing the men how she wanted things done, but soon it was time to wait for their work to bloom.

  Luckily, the lord was gone again for this time, and Luveday was able to work without having to look over her shoulder. What was it that character had said? Annalisa quoted him a lot when she wanted something she knew she would get in trouble for doing. Right! Better to ask forgiveness than permission. For once in Luveday’s life, she wholeheartedly agreed.

  The Abbey of St. Lucas housed the Cloister of the Heavenly Maiden. It was a beautiful compound with multiple buildings of dark gray stone, extensive gardens and a rich air about it. Father Quinn guided her through a tour of their gardens as he filled Luveday in on some of the Cloister’s history. Luveday took it more as a warning than idle gossip. “Fine ladies from all over the kingdom come to the Abbey to take their vows. It is perhaps the most sought-after of all the cloisters.” He looked out over the blossoming garden, but the sight didn’t make him smile as it usually did and Luveday turned her thoughts from what ideas she could implement at the Keep to the Father’s serious tone. “Mother Superior is a powerful woman, with a keen eye. I suppose she must be to become what she has.”

  Luveday knew that many powerful men came here, not only to visit their relatives in the abbey but to talk to the woman in charge. Emmalyn had commented that if Mary Odilia had been born a man she would have been a force to be reckoned with, instead she was Mother Superior, and thank God for that. The lady rarely said an unkind word to anyone, and Luveday believed the animosity between the two women went back a long way. She thought that perhaps Father Quinn could shed some light on the matter.

  The pair turned down a side path deep within the garden, Luveday thought the man looked for a place where they would not be overheard. “Mother Superior has done very well for the Abbey and her sisters, but her eye is always looking for something to make things better. A jewel in her crown as it were.”

  “Do you not take oaths that say your treasure will be stored up in heaven and not on the earthly plane?” Luveday commented.

  He looked taken aback for a moment but smiled at her. “Yes, but Mother Superior is now concerned with leaving behind a legacy worthy of the abbey.” The Father stopped to examine a grouping of flowering plants that Luveday recognized as chamomile. “To secure a happy future for the Abbey would entail the acquisition of a generous benefactor, who would lavish money on the Abbey and its endeavors.” He watched at her out of the corner of his eye as they heard footsteps swiftly approaching.

  Sister Gaynor had welcomed the small group to the Abbey that morning. Her appearance now did not look so cheerful. The woman was out of breath, and flustered, but she tried to compose herself as she addressed them. “Father Quinn, Lady Luveday. Lady Christabel is now ready to see you. Mother Superior has asked her to take refreshments in the sitting room and asked that you join them, Lady.” The summons clearly did not include the priest in the invitation to the inner sanctum.

  He gave Luveday a sharp look before turning back to Sister Gaynor with a bright smile and a cheerful comment. “That would be wonderful. I will continue to look over the gardens. We can meet at the front gate when you are ready, Lady.” With that, he shooed away the women and continued on his path through the lush green rows and manicured beds.

  Sister Gaynor asked the Lady to follow her, but Luveday had trouble keeping up with her shuffling scurry. It seemed the good sister was in a hurry and afraid of being late, or perhaps of keeping Mother Superior waiting.

  The sitting room was exactly what Luveday was expecting, down to the gilded mirror and velvet cushions. The furniture was sumptuous and rich with dark woods and polished surfaces. It was a place she entertained important guests. Luveday attributed her presence to curiosity. Obviously, the woman had heard something about her, from Christabel or any number of other sources and wanted to meet her; it was curiosity and nothing more.

  Mary Odilia was a sharp contrast to her surroundings, the simple but fine garment she wore was not the traditional black of her modern counterparts, nor the plain tawny wool of her fellow sisters. Her garment was a beautiful pale blue that reminded Luveday of the color of the Madonna’s gowns in many traditional paintings. The wimple she wore was a crisp white and also a sign of her status as most were made of the course unbleached linen. The top of the wimple was a piece of darker cloth that acted like a hood which was a deeper, cobalt blue. Looking at her, Luveday saw that her eyes were as pale a blue as her gown and held an icy intelligence. As Luveday was introduced to Mother Superior, she revised her opinion of why she was there; it was more than curiosity. The Mother Superior wished to size her up. Friend or foe, Luveday thought that it would depend on what the woman wanted from her, because sure as day, Luveday knew that the woman wanted something.

  “Lady Luveday, please join us.” Mother Superior gestured with an elegant hand. Thanking her, Luveday took a delicate looking chair at the table were Lady Christabel also resided. Mistress Adela was nowhere to be seen. “Lady Christabel has told me of your amazing journey here; to think what could have happened.” She sounded sincere in her concern.

  “The Creator has blessed me with good fortune and helped me find my way, Mother Superior. My fate could have been a sorrowful one, but I thank the moment Sir Gregori found me.” She stated simply. Truthfully, Luveday had had a few nightmares after arriving at the castle. She knew exactly what could have befallen her and thanked the Lord each night that she was safe, with new friends in this strange place, even as she waited to see what her purpose here was.

  “He gives, and he takes away,” her eyes narrowed as she looked at Luveday as if she looked too deep. “He has plans for you, child. Good plans. Noble plans.” She said it almost as one might expect a fortune teller to impart a glimpse of the future. Luveday wasn’t sure if she should believe the woman or not, but the Mother Superior’s words seemed to carry a weight that settled within her. It did
n’t lighten her spirit or make her feel at peace, it was a heavy weight of expectation, of things to come.

  Christabel broke through the brooding air as she looked at Luveday and commented on her appearance. Christabel had been gone from the keep for a little over six weeks, and the change in Luveday was noticeable. Gone was the dull tawny hair and in its place, was a head of gold. Gone was the sallow complexion and in its place a happy glow. The woman had lost a stone or more and looked almost pretty without a bit of rouge or powder. A spark of jealousy flared to life in her breast but was quickly extinguished. After all, what did a poor lady like Luveday have in common with the likes of her? No, Christabel chose to pity her instead. No amount of prettiness could raise her state or stature. The woman was still on the round side, and her gown was a borrowed monstrosity they had tried to make fit her shorter frame. Yes, the lady was to be pitied, and so Christabel let lose what kindness she possessed.

  “Lady Luveday, you look improved since I last saw you.” She smiled kindly, but not without the pity showing through. “Lord Wolf has said the castle is much improved. Mother Superior was gracious enough to accommodate Lady Emmalyn’s offer to buy some of the furnishings from the Abbey.” Christabel looked gratefully over to her protector who nodded and smiled softly at the young lady.

  Luveday thought some words of gratitude were expected of her. “Thank you for your kindness, Mother Superior.”

  While they seemed to talk of trivial things, Luveday watched the mother for signs of interest. The only sign of emotions was the widening or narrowing of the woman’s eyes. Her small smile was constant and reminded her a bit of the Mona Lisa. The Mother knew something she was keeping to herself.

  Luveday spoke of the improvements or at least tried to, but Christabel was clearly uninterested. She asked if anyone had arrived at the castle, perhaps expecting a royal guest as the lord and his men were nothing special in her opinion. The conversation turned quickly to court, and it was Luveday’s turn to listen carefully. Luveday added the conversation to what little she knew of the King’s court. Christabel’s father was a powerful man, who seemed to want this marriage for his daughter. The King’s Champion was a powerful ally, and connection Lord Henric wished to capitalize on. Mother Superior spoke of Christabel’s father with soft awe, and respect she did not use when mentioning De Lane. Luveday did not know if she was sincere or if her words were for Christabel’s benefit.