The Lost Lady Read online

“Perhaps… We will see it settled.” Luveday replied ready to leave.

  Sir Gregori tried to fill the silence. “Lord Iain plans to visit the Abbey in a few days.”

  Iain gave him a hard look.

  Luveday smiled to herself. He was going to collect his bride. She secretly wished him luck, Luveday had the feeling that Christabel would be more of a challenge than he expected. “Please tell Lady Christabel that I hope she has enjoyed her visit and that I hope she is doing well.” Iain looked as if he was trying to gauge her sincerity, but Luveday was not trying to be polite. She knew firsthand what it was like to be far from home. “If that is all, I bid you both a good night, My Lord. Sir Gregori.” She curtsied, little more than a bend of the knee and a bow of the head, but she thought it was more than enough. He didn’t seem to be the sort to worry about formal etiquette. That was good, because at that moment Luveday didn’t care if he was insulted or not. She was tired and sought her bed at the first opportunity.

  Chapter 3

  A woman’s always younger than a man of equal years.

  ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  In the several days since his arrival, Lady Luveday proved to be everything Gregori said she was, which irked Iain to no end. It was not that he disliked the lady, there was just something unusual about her that he couldn’t place. He looked for ulterior motives but could discern none. She seemed to have installed herself in his home with ease. In fact, she was constantly at his Aunt’s side learning the ins and outs of the keep and even the healing arts. Iain had the strange feeling that every time he spoke to her, it was a test of wills and wits. It was an unusual situation. Not that he doubted the intelligence of the woman, it was that he had never met one with brains that seemed to equal his own and that unnerved him more. She looked him in the eye when she spoke, she listened intently, and she spoke only when she had something worth saying. To put it plainly, she intrigued him, and that would not do. Iain thought of his future wife and scowled as he chose his attire with care. Today was an important day, and he needed to make the best impression. He was leaving for the Abbey, and he would return with his bride. It would be the first time his people would see them together. It felt like the future he had dreamed of was finally at hand.

  Luveday helped to mend the Lord’s clothes as she sat with the women in the sewing room. It was more like a gallery, a long and narrow room on the second floor with two large shuttered windows that overlooked the garden. It was also a room where some of the women occasionally slept. After being cleaned and some furniture arranging within, the room was actually very pleasant and often had a nice breeze that came in through the open windows. She sat repairing a leg of some hose with straight, uniform stitches and contemplated their owner. Iain’s clothes were very fine, but many of them had seen better days. Months spent on the road had taken their toll, not to mention numerous skirmishes and what have you. She had only a vague idea of what a champion did. Luveday thought that it was not so glorious a title as one might imagine. There must be a good deal of fighting and going where the King sent you. That did not seem very appealing to her.

  Lord Iain had ridden out that morning saying goodbye to only his aunt. He had taken a few men with him, as they had business of some kind at the Abbey, but what it could be she couldn’t guess. Luveday had been in the kitchen checking on the castle’s stores. With so many men in attendance they all worried about having enough provisions to go around. Most of the meal was made from the harvest last fall and the stores were running low until the first crops were ready. It was clear that a hunt was in order and Luveday was hesitant to learn how to skin and dress an animal. The fish and fowl were something familiar to her, but beef and pork fresh off the hoof made her stomach turn. Even thinking about it as she sat mending a pant leg, was enough to make her uncomfortable. There was bound to be a lot of blood and gore and Luveday didn’t know how she would respond.

  She had a bit of her mother’s clinical eye, mostly because as a nurse’s daughter she had inherited, by proximity, her mother’s training to not freak out when someone came in covered in blood. As a teen, Luveday had spent some time in the hospital where her mother worked. The opportunity to be a docent was an eye opening one. She remembered enjoying working with the patients and visiting people to keep them company, but she’d never truly been privy to the turmoil her mother often faced in the ER or in the operating room. Medicine in her current world was something altogether different from what her mother practiced. She’d dealt with a few minor injuries under the steady eye of Lady Emmalyn and even with the help of Cassandra, the midwife. Between the two women, she had a wealth of healing knowledge, and thanks to the Medical Herbal she had picked up for Annalisa, and her mother’s mandatory first aid classes, she was a few centuries ahead on medical technique. She had the knowledge, now she was gaining the experience.

  After little more than a month, Luveday still marveled at all of the new things she was learning. Emmalyn had been impressed with how quickly she was catching on, while at other times wondering why she didn’t know something simple in the first place. Things that were everyday occurrences in the castle were new to Luveday, and yet she had taken to this life like a fish to water. The more she learned the more she wanted to do.

  Elli burst into the room scattering her thoughts. The girl took a moment to catch her breath as Henna plied her with questions. “Elli is something wrong?” They were all relieved when she shook her head no, but the girl was still too winded to speak. “Does Lady Emmalyn need us?” A nod and an excited smile were their only answer as Elli went over and grabbed Luveday by the arm to drag her out of the room. The women followed chattering all the way.

  They descended the stairs to see men bustling back and forth carrying all sorts of things. Men dropped items here and there to Emmalyn’s dismay. The women stopped to marvel at the chaos, when Lady Emmalyn spotted them. “Don’t just stand there, I need your help.” She addressed them all but looked straight at Luveday. “Lady Luveday, they are making a mess of our beautiful hall.”

  These must be the wagons Iain spoke of, she thought. Luveday started opening chests and untying wrapping. The items she found ranged from the everyday to the exotic. Men continued to bring in more and more, a never-ending procession bearing gifts. Colorful bits of armor were heaped in a pile just inside the door. Chests were stacked haphazardly, rolled rugs and bundles of cloth, and a great metal circle were leaned against whatever might keep them upright.

  Luveday nodded to herself as Emmalyn fretted and tried to order the men around. She spotted Coll looking on from a corner as they brought things in. “Coll, come here.” She called, and the boy weaved his way through the men to reach her.

  “Yes, Lady Luveday?” The boy looked around eagerly at the commotion.

  “Do you know what here is Lord Iain’s?” The boy looked confused by the questions.

  “All of it, My Lady. ‘Tis the spoils from his campaigns and tournaments.” They moved aside as a pair of men sat down a large iron-bound trunk. “Lord Iain is good about trading if the men didn’t have the coin.” The squire was proud of his lord; not all men were so fair.

  Taking a deep breath, Luveday tried again. “Are any of these things his personal items? Things we should move up to the solar?”

  “Oh, no lady. We brought everything with us. These are all ransoms.” The boy smiled widely, and Luveday couldn’t help, but smile back.

  She remembered something about ransoms. Knights holding ransom the armor and belongings of their defeated enemies until the man, or house, could pay some fee to have the items released. It was a lot like winning the jackpot and having to strong-arm your fellow players for your winnings. Luveday was unsure of how she felt about such practices, but about one thing she was sure, Lord Iain De Lane had done very, very, well for himself.

  “Alright. Open this trunk, please.” She straightened and began giving orders in a no-nonsense tone that garnered swift obedience “Please take any spices and foodstuff to the kitch
ens.” Women helped direct the men as they revealed hidden treasures and carried them off to their new homes. Luveday called the men by name when she was able and learned many new ones in the processes. “Not there, carry it up to the solar, please.” She waved the men toward the stairs, ignoring their groans. “Henna please see that the cloth and other sewing items are put up in the sewing room.” She moved to examine the rugs and a large round metal object that Luveday couldn’t quite identify. Everything had a purpose, and a giant silver dish had to have some use that she had yet to discern. It was beautiful and about as large in diameter as she was tall. The circle had a lip around the circumference that was about an inch tall, the surface of the piece was lightly etched in a complex and circular design that she couldn’t quite see. The light from the torches and candles reflected off its polished surface obscuring the pattern.

  An idea popped into her head. Luveday thought she might have figured out what the metal was for, light. If they could find some way to hang the piece over the fireplace, not only would it nicely fill the wall, it would help to illuminate the hall. She had them set it aside along with a large carved wooden platter and some pottery.

  By the time the hall was nearly empty the men were winded, and the women were cooing over the lord’s spoils. All that was left was a pile of armor, mostly shields that had served the knights as calling cards, a whos-who to announce their presence in the tournaments. Most of the shields were for ceremonies only and hung outside tents or on the boards to show their prestige. They were beautifully painted, and Luveday was loathed to store them in the armory or toss them into some dark corner as the men suggested. Luveday had come across some more shields as they had cleaned the castle and was mulling over some way to make them decor pieces in the hall.

  Luveday called for cool wine and trays to be dispersed among the men, and they were happy to be rewarded for their hard work. The women were still putting away the spoils as Luveday took a moment to stop and rest. Emmalyn came up beside her. “Well done, child.” She sat down, and Luveday joined her if only for a moment. “I was sure we would not get it all done tonight.” She took a goblet from Paige whose quiet demeanor often left her overlooked. Luveday had learned little about the young woman though she had tried. Her thoughts were interrupted as Emmalyn continued talking. “The boy has done well for himself, that is for sure.”

  Accepting a cup, Luveday looked at the wall above the hearth in thought. “Yes, very well.” She doubted any other man had gone home with such a bounty and Luveday thought that one or two of the chests the Lord had brought with him must be full of coin. Very well, indeed. Luveday didn’t have time to be impressed at the moment. “Excuse me, Emmalyn. I must check on the women. I want to make sure everything is put away properly.” She drained her cup and headed for the sewing room. She had been right to worry; the women were too busy looking through the chests and items to have gotten much done. Luveday put them to work again, before heading to each and every area in turn. By supper time that evening, everything was in its proper place except for those few items Luveday wished to install in the hall, but for that, she would need some unlikely help.

  Luveday had yet to meet the blacksmith of Lander’s Keep. The man was reputed to have such skill that Iain had taken him with him, preferring to have his talent close at hand. The smithy was in the outer bailey not far from the barracks and had been cleaned during the massive undertaking. It had clearly not seen any activity in years, though no one would know that looking at it now. The blacksmith, a Master Barth, was a large man, several years older than his lord, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He had short deep brown hair and was dressed in thick leathers to protect him from the flames. Luveday thought that such attire would be terrible in the heat. The man was working at the hearth when she appeared and watched him work for a few moments. He was shaping a horseshoe with a few well-placed strokes. Luveday thought her presence had gone unnoticed until he startled her by speaking. “What can I do for you, Lady Luveday?” A deep and quiet voice flowed through the space.

  Startled was putting it mildly, Luveday was momentarily confused and forgot what exactly she had come to ask. Shaking her head, she moved closer, and the blacksmith put down his tools and turned to her. She didn’t go near the fire, even in the spring chill the heat from the forge was strong. “Good morning, Master Barth.” The blacksmith arched one eyebrow at the greeting. He knew she wanted something from him. Looking at him, Luveday threw out the speech she had planned and spoke plainly. “I know you are a busy man, but they say you are also clever, and while I may be underutilizing your skills, I need your help.”

  Interested, the blacksmith moved them out into the open air. “What can I help you with, My Lady? I have not the hands for delicate work.” He opened his large hands and showed them to her. She saw the scars and burns from a lifetime spent forcing metal to one’s will.

  She placed her small hand in his and grasped his fingers which seemed to startle him. Looking into each other’s eyes, she smiled. “I do not need delicate work. I need a sharp mind.” And instantly a friendship was forged.

  The castle had settled into a routine. Luveday sometimes missed the quiet. It had seemed that the stones were wrapped in silence on her arrival, but she reminded herself that Lander’s Keep was never meant to be empty. Lord Iain had not returned nor sent word about what kept him, though many suspected his lady was being difficult. Many would have liked to be a fly on the wall for their first meeting, Luveday included.

  She saw a good deal of the blacksmith and a few of the masons, who were still working on some of the cottages, the mill and looking at a manor house on the edge of the land’s that lay well within the wood. Barth was helping her to find a way to hang the shields and large silver dish without damaging them or the walls, the later issue caused them to consult with the masons.

  Master Alexander had proved to be as good as his reputation, though sobering him up had been a challenge. He and Gregori had conversed at length about what the mason remembered of his arrival there, and more specifically, the wayward Steward. Gregori had recounted some of what happened, though not all. Luveday got the impression that the knight had made it his mission to find the steward and bring him to justice. She shuddered at the thought, Gregori’s would be a hard justice.

  After the chores in the castle were done, Luveday’s eyes had looked for other tasks. Cassandra and even Elli sometimes joined her and Emmalyn as the women taught her more about their art. They had a small journal passed down from one of Emmalyn’s foremothers, but the book was so old that she had trouble reading it. Not only were the pages faded with time, but the handwriting was also poor and the language difficult to decipher if it was in English at all. Emmalyn did not read well, and what she knew about the book was mostly taught to her verbally or by example. She could still recite her lessons as if it were yesterday. Still, many of the book’s secrets would remain unknown. Hours were spent learning about plants and brewing in the healing shed, as Luveday had come to call it, was not enough to fill her days. So, her eyes turned to the women. They had been happy to accept some of the ointments and unguents she had made, and when she suggested they try this or that, or she made a comment about their appearance, they were happy to try something new there too. The women started washing regularly, as Luveday did. They braided their hair and wore bits of color to contrast their serviceable gowns. As a whole, they seemed happier, even when Luveday took the scissors from her backpack and offered to trim their hair.

  It was only a matter of time before the men started to notice and while they might take more care with their garments to catch a woman’s eye, their hair was still unkempt, long and straggly. They had talked amongst themselves and had decided to ask for the Lady’s help, but no one was comfortable broaching the subject of bathing with the lady, so they found themselves a spokeswoman to champion their cause.

  Agnes cleaned her hands on her apron, a nervous habit no one had seen from her before, as she approached Lady Luveday while s
he sat alone at the hearth. It was unusual for the cook to be upstairs, preferring to spend her time in the kitchen or its garden rather than in the bustle of the hall. Many of the men that loitered about gave her knowing looks, and she nodded her understanding. It was time to talk to the lady. “Lady Luveday?” The woman asked knowing that many of the men had put a great deal of stock in her relationship to the new lady. Agnes liked the girl, talked to her a great deal and respected her because Luveday respected others in return, but she didn’t think that she, as a cook, could ask much of a lady, even Luveday, so she hesitated.

  The lady looked up, startled from her thoughts and smiled at the cook. Rather than getting up, Luveday asked the woman to sit, and as Agnes rested her feet it felt as if a large weight had lifted from her shoulders, and so the cook found she was unburdening herself on the lady and couldn’t stop talking though she tried. “Lady, you have worked wonders in this keep, and it has not gone unnoticed. I was cooking the morning meal a few days ago, and the women came in laughing and singing and looking like spring chickens and the men stopped to ask me what they were doing that made them look so fare. The women heard and said ‘twas you who helped them. And the men have watched the girls these last few days, and they like what they see, and they think that if they might bathe and have their hair cut they too would be better off, and I think it a fine idea. Many of the men looked like they’ve not seen a comb since they left here, and the bath is ever so nice though saved for the Lord and noble guests, we’ve yet to open it again. The men asked me to talk to you, lady, and ask if they might use it and soap and your scissors to be presentable. After all, we might have a royal guest sooner than we think and …”

  Luveday laughed never knowing the woman to talk so much and held up a hand to slow her down. Agnes stopped the flow of words from her mouth with visible effort. Luveday got the gist of the situation, and while she had heard of the bath and knew it was cleaned with the rest of the castle, she had not yet seen it. A community bath had been unappealing to her and, so she had not thought to look farther into it. “Mistress Agnes, I see the men have asked you to champion them.” Those standing near enough to hear her words scoffed under their breath while Agnes blushed. “I do not see a reason why they cannot use the bath. We will assemble what’s needed, and they may bathe this afternoon, perhaps they might even let Lady Emmalyn and myself look them over. Some have been complaining of pains but have yet to call on us. We can kill two birds with one stone.” Luveday got up, and Agnes joined her. Thanking her quickly, the cook hurried to return to her kitchen. The men only nodded at the lady and went off to tell their fellows that the bath would be ready.