The Lost Lady Read online

  “My dear, this place is looking wonderful. I have not been here for many years.” Luveday thought his eyes looked a little misty as he spoke, but it could have been the bright sunshine.

  “She is looking better. The garden was in sad shape when I found her.” Cathy moved towards them, Coll once again taking up his place as her escort though the boy was a few heads shorter than she. “Unfortunately, not much was left, but weeds and vines. Some of the roses have survived, but the place is rather bare.”

  Cathy patted the boy’s arm as they stopped before the fountain as well. “Perhaps we might help with that.” She motioned for the basket and Coll retrieved it from the shaded nook. “Father Quinn spoke so much of your garden on the last visit that we decided to come and see for ourselves. Paige said that you were working hard to transform the Lady’s sanctuary.” Cathy handed over the basket. Luveday held it as she pulled back a cloth to reveal several plants whose roots were wrapped in pieces of old cloth. “Do you think these will do?”

  Luveday laughed. Catherine had collected the best of her own garden to transfer into this new one. “These are perfect, Cathy. Thank you.” She gave the cunning old woman a peck on the cheek. Cathy waved her away. Luveday moved aside. “Come, sit down out of the sun.” The couple moved to the stone bench in the nearby nook and rested in the shadow of the garden wall which was about twelve feet high, about half the height of the outer walls. The garden had three trees, one in each back corner and one along the side wall away from the castle structure.

  There were trellises that had somehow survived the neglect over the years though the plants they had supported had died long ago. Wide stone paths bisected the garden and quartered it into four sections like a giant cross with the three-tiered fountain in the middle. The fountain was large, though rather plain, with circular basins, though Father Quinn had said square was the usual design. Clear water circulated through the fountain that was somehow connected to a nearby well. Once the fountain had been unclogged and filled with fresh water, it began to function again, and they no longer needed to fill it by hand. Luveday was glad, as it provided a way to irrigate the garden without having to carry water from the kitchen well or the well in the outer bailey.

  The four main planting beds were cut into smaller raised beds. They were the average wicker basket weave like the kitchen garden and had need some repair before they were ready for planting. A few stone beds lay nestled against the garden’s stone walls. These needed scrubbing but the capstones atop the small walls of the raised beds shone a craftsman’s care in their beveled edges and solid seating. Luveday had begun to replant them, once they had been cleared. They now held an array of plants, from mint and rosemary to strawberries and dandelions. A few shrubs and other plants had survived around the border of the garden somehow aided by the walls. Two rosemary bushes looked as if they might have been formed into topiaries, but Luveday could not discern their original shape. There was a vine along the inner wall. The trellis was rather bare, but the plant had survived, what it was she couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a grapevine; only time would tell if she was right. The only things that seemed to grow in abandon were weeds and the ivy vines that had sealed the gate shut. Luveday and an army of helpers had trimmed and pulled until the ivy was a more manageable size, with some maintenance the vines would make a lovely wall of green to welcome visitors. Between the beds were paths of gravel, the same tan color as the stone walls. Overall, the garden was still rather bare.

  Luveday looked at the plants in the basket as her visitors sat in the shade and enjoyed the tranquility. Catherine had brought three violets, two marigolds, an Iris and a vine of her sweet peas. Luveday had exclaimed at the beauty of the flowering vine. Sweet peas were one of her favorite scents, and now the garden would have a vine to grace its walls. “This is wonderful, Cathy. Thank you so much.”

  The older woman padded her knee as Sir Chadric excused himself to visit the hall.

  “Coll!” Luveday got the boy’s attention as he played in the water of the fountain. “Can you escort, Sir Chadric to the hall to find Lord Iain. I will make sure Catherine gets back when we are ready.” The boy nodded and rushed off after the old knight.

  Cathy smiled to see the boy’s enthusiasm. “Is there anything else you need, child?” She looked about. “I could bring some more clippings, foxglove, poppy, some sweet mint if you’d like.” For a moment the old woman saw the garden as it once was, filled with the lady and her two small sons playing and laughing in the golden sunshine; it brought tears to her eyes.

  Luveday pretended that she didn’t notice. “Thank you, Cathy. I would like that.” She looked out at the garden, and her mind conjured up a vision of what it used to be which was very close to the one in Catherine’s memory. “The hard work is done, and now we wait for nature to do the rest.”

  “All in good time, my dear.” Luveday looked to her companion and thought there was some hidden meaning to her words but didn’t ask Cathy what she meant beyond the obvious. Luveday picked out spots for the new editions and planted them as her friend watched from the bench. Cathy commented about this or that, but Luveday didn’t really need to answer her, so she worked and watered the plants before the two women headed into the castle for the mid-day meal.

  Sir Chadric and Catherine were on their way home in a village cart when the first messenger arrived that afternoon. The man was pale, dirtier than usual, and dread filled his eyes as the ladies met him in the courtyard. Someone ran to find Iain. Just as the lord entered the courtyard a bell tolled at the Abbey and continued to ring.

  “Five bells,” Emmalyn whispered and looked to Iain and then the women. Elli grabbed hold of Luveday, once again hanging off her friend.

  Gregori ran out of the chapel heading straight for his lord and the messenger. “Five Bells, De Lane.”

  Benedict ran from the Hall, nearly running into Luveday and Elli. “Was it five? Five bells?” He asked.

  Luveday nodded, not comprehending the significance, but understanding the quiet dread around her. “Why five bells?” She asked.

  Emmalyn looked to her and recognized the confusion in her friend’s gaze. Sometimes the older woman forgot that Luveday had not been born on the shores of Anora. “Five Bells sound when the King calls his men to arms. The King is under attack, and his men must rally to him.”

  The woman watched as the men talked heatedly with the messenger. Luveday asked one of the women at her elbow to go and get some provisions for the man, as it was clear he would not be staying long. No one moved, so Luveday went and retrieved the items herself. Agnes looked at her with worried eyes, but no one asked what the commotion was about. The castle held its breath for news. When Luveday returned to the courtyard the King’s man was mounted on a fresh horse, and Luveday handed up her bounty. She could see the gratitude in his eyes as he accepted her bundle and the cup of cold ale she offered him. He downed it quickly, nodded to the men who still crowded him and turned the mount towards the gate. He was gone as quickly as he had come.

  “You needn’t have done that yourself, Lady.” Iain turned to her as they watched the King’s man disappear down the road.

  She looked at him and noticed the tightness around his eyes and jaw. She could guess that the news was not good, but how could it be anything but bad when the King had sounded the call. Luveday shrugged and turned to him. “No one else was inclined to go, and I didn’t mind.”

  Iain nodded and brushed a hair out of his eyes. He looked at her for a moment without speaking, and Luveday wondered if he saw her at all. More than likely he was planning for what was to come and, so she didn’t interrupt him, just waited for the orders she knew would follow. “The messenger said that wounded will be arriving shortly. My men and I will be heading out tomorrow morning. Our neighbor, Lord Frasier is mustering men, we will wait to accompany him and join Lord Stern in the North.”

  “Is the King in immediate danger?” She asked, remembering the cheerful young King and his family.
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  Iain smiled at her concern. “He is well defended, Lady.”

  Luveday only nodded. “We had better prepare. Do you know how many will be arriving?”

  “No, but I expect it to be a fair number, but mostly those who can no longer fight yet were able to travel.”

  “The King must have thought this a safe place for his men.” Luveday said more to herself than to anyone.”

  “Aye, Lady.” Their gazes locked and held for several heartbeats, each lost in their own thoughts. Voices called for their attention, and soon the two were parted.

  Luveday relayed what information she had, and the women got to work, while the men began to ready for battle. The castle buzzed with activity, as healing supplies were collected. Luveday called for Cassandra and more help from the village. Even Lady Christabel and Adela were put to work making bandages. Large cauldrons of willow bark and fever’s foe were brewing in the hearth. Cassandra brought her own supplies to add to the castle’s stocks. By the time the first men came pouring through the gate, they were as prepared as anyone could be.

  Iain spared a few men to help unload and settle the wounded. The main hall was kept clear and the under-gallery lined with cots and palettes as his men had evacuated the area. Torches burned in sconces and candles abounded in the once dark space.

  Luveday quickly evaluated the injured and moved them on to designated areas. The severely wounded were seen by Emmalyn and Cassandra, the rest were cleaned up and bandaged by the women. By the time the last man entered the castle, the number of injured has reached twenty-three. Luveday joined her mentors to work on some of the men who hadn’t fared so well during the trip. Several wagons had been full of men, and Luveday secretly wondered how they had survived the journey.

  The women worked with quiet efficiency. Luveday had had a taste of what battle might bring thanks to the ambush that had wounded Benedict and the constant drills the knights practiced, but nothing could have prepared her for the damage these men had suffered. Lacerations were easy to clean and stitch back together, but what did one do when the flesh was ripped and torn, when there was no clue of how to return a limb to resemble what it once was. Luveday dreaded the idea of having to amputate and prayed fervently for each man. The infection had already set in on many, and some of the women feared that they were already fighting a losing battle.

  Logically, Luveday knew that she couldn’t save everyone. People died, and in this age, they died badly, but that didn’t stop her from becoming emotionally involved with each man that she cared for. Some had good humors, some cursed their fate, some were quiet, waiting for death to take away the pain, and others were so far gone they barely woke up as they were stitched back together.

  By late evening the controlled chaos had settled into a routine. The wagons that had held the wounded were repurposed to carry arms and supplies for the departing troops. Lord Iain was seen about the castle and Luveday finally cornered him in the solar after a hasty dinner.

  He met her eyes with a resigned look as he sat in his chair before the full hearth drinking wine out of a silver goblet. Clearly, he was expecting her, perhaps he was waiting for an update on the wounded, but she was there for another reason.

  “My Lord, I wish to accompany you to the North.” She didn’t hesitate or make small talk. Her mind was made up.

  Iain stopped the cup before it reached his lips. He swallowed and glared a moment at the fire before setting the goblet down on the table at his elbow and turned to her. “No.”

  Luveday should have expected the weight that dropped into the pit of her stomach but didn’t. The logical part of her knew that he would say no, even knew why he would say it, but it still didn’t soften the blow of his firm refusal. She wouldn’t give up. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  He interrupted her with a low growl. “I doubt that very much, Luveday.”

  “A battlefield is no place for a woman.” She started to counter the arguments she had devised in her head. “It’s dangerous, hard, and people die.” She took a step further with each word until only the table’s width separated them. “I know I have never seen battle, and a part of me hoped there would never be a need,” he looked as if he was about to say something, but she pushed on, gripping the back of one of the chairs around the table for support. “The truth is you need me.”

  Luveday was unprepared for the hollow laughter that rang through the room. “And what need could you fulfill, Luveday? We are on the brink of war with Sterling. You are no camp follower.”

  She straightened her backbone. She would not let him reduce her offer to something tawdry. “No, I am not a camp follower, I am a healer.” She cut him off as he opened his mouth. “I have spent hours tending to the men downstairs, and I know that you need me to come with you because some of those men down there will not last the night. If they had been seen to, properly seen to, on the field then perhaps they would have had a fighting chance, but…” her voice faltered, “but all we can do now is make them comfortable.”

  “Luveday…” He rose to his feet and rounded the table, but she would not let him comfort her.

  “I can handle the blood and broken bones; Emmalyn and Cassandra have taught me well.” She looked up at him with stubborn determination in her watery eyes. “I promise to follow orders, to not put myself in undue danger, and to leave when you tell me to, but if I can save lives, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

  The look he gave her was unreadable, but the sigh that followed brought a mixture of triumph and fear. “You will go when I give the word.” She nodded solemnly. “I cannot spare many men to look after you, so you will have to look after yourself. Don’t get into any trouble!” A small smile turned the corner of her mouth at his concern.

  “I swear I will be on guard and vigilant. You can count on me, My Lord De Lane.”

  His smile mirrored hers from a moment ago. “I know I can, Lady. Pack what you need. We leave at daybreak.” Luveday left to check on things below, and the plans she had already put into motion. As he finished his wine, Iain wondered if he hadn’t just invited the fair lady to her death.

  Chapter 8

  ‘Guess now who holds thee?’—‘Death,’ I said. But, there,

  The silver answer rang, … ‘Not Death, but Love.’

  ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  The journey North started out a solemn affair, but soon the men were chatting amicably to entertain the women. Luveday and her reluctant companions were near the front of the line; only a few dozen men separated her from Lord Iain and Lord James Frasier. She felt a sense of security each time she glimpsed one of their broad backs.

  The women chatted, mostly with Sir Gregori or Lord Benedict, but a few of Frasier’s knights stopped to charm the ladies. Luveday had been surprised when Lady Christabel, with Mistress Adela in tow, was preparing to leave with the troops at dawn. Elysant had joined their number, though Luveday suspected that Emmalyn had something to do with that. Luveday didn’t know if the girl was meant to be of aid or to protect her virtue, but she was glad for the company just the same.

  The procession moved by at a snail’s pace. She thought there would be more speed, but though there was not a very long way to their destination, the troops moved on at a singular pace. Men on horseback moved as fast as the men on foot, and they all kept pace with the wagons weighted down with supplies and weapons. The knights wore light leather armor, saving their metal suits for the battlefield proper.

  Three days passed before they were in sight of Havenwood. Lord Grayson met them on the road, and together they journeyed another two days to find themselves amongst the King’s men.

  “My word.” Christabel’s gasp could be heard from her position beside Luveday. Ellie had decided to ride double with her friend and was happy that she got a look at the scene before her from such a height, rather than waiting with Adela in the wagons. Before them stretched a maze of tents, large enough to be called a city. Luveday was sure their numbers quadrupled the people of Lander’s Ke
ep. Most of the tents were a cream-colored canvas with brightly colored flags and banners declaring their noble occupants. The more powerful lords were situated nearest the King’s tent which bore his banner.

  “Lord Grayson said he had sent men ahead to prepare a space, but where shall we be able to set up camp in this mess,” Ellie spoke into her ear as the girl leaned out to get a better look. Luveday was ready to catch the girl before her friend went too far and tumbled off the horse.

  “We should ask were the healing tents are. I know Lord Frasier offered us one of his own, but surely they have some set up already.” Luveday looked around, there was some design to the camp as large thoroughfares sectioned off the tents. No one seemed in a hurry, nor were there any sights of the battle she knew was fought here so recently. “We should drop off the supplies as soon as possible.” At that moment, Gregori separated from the group and rode for the head of the line. He gave Luveday and Ellie a nod as he passed, and she wondered if he would relay her concerns to the men in charge.

  “Do you think we are in any danger?” Christabel asked, looking around at the men with a mixture of fear and disgust. Luveday knew why the Lady had insisted on coming, she was jealous and would not be outdone, but wondered how long a court lady would last out here. Secretly, Luveday wished she had turned back the first day, or taken up the offer Stern had extended for her to stay at Havenwood, but the stubborn girl would not listen though the tales the men told turned her fair skin an unusual shade of green.

  Luveday noticed women moving around the camp, most dressed in bright colors with secret smiles, and she knew that they must be the camp followers that Iain had talked about. The few who met her gaze looked back at her with equal interest. “There are women about, so I doubt we will be in any real danger.”

  Gregori and a few men came back down the line and escorted the women to an opening in the left wing of the camp. There was a large grouping of trees, too small to be called a forest, which lined a wide but shallow stream that was supplying the healing tent with fresh water. Iain had his men set up camp nearby. They would also keep an eye on the small wood as they shored up the defenses of the left wing of the camp.