Cardonaccum, The beauty of a thistle. Options

[haute ecole rider]

A/N: Hello all. This is a story I began writing for NaNoWriMo in 2011. Now that Julian has finished telling her story, Cora is impatient to take her turn. So without further ado, I will allow her to introduce herself and begin her story. Hopefully it won't be as long in the telling as Julian's. It is not as epic, nor does it have sweeping consequences, but as I see it, without Cora we would not have Julian's story at all.

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Chapter One

“Milady!” The lean form darted through the tall panels, the storm following hard on his heels. The doorkeepers struggled to close the doors against the pelting rain. For a moment, I could not see the courier’s face against the lightning flashes that limned his figure.

Finally he halted before me, bedraggled and breathless. Rain dripped from his sodden clothes, and plastered his black hair to his forehead. As my vision readjusted to the torches that lit the main hall of the donjon, I could recognize the young man. I stepped away from my comfortable chair and nodded at Jannet, who turned and disappeared in the direction of the kitchens.

“Please sit down, Tavish,” I took the courier’s cloak and removed it from his shoulders. He reached for it reflexively, but I shook my head at him as Siné took the fabric from me and draped it near the fire to dry. I led him to my chair. He resisted briefly, but exhaustion enforced my quiet command, and he fell onto the soft cushion with a groan.

“I h- have n- news,” he met my gaze as I picked up the wine flagon and poured the mulled liquid into my goblet. I handed it to him with forced calmness. Around us gathered the thistlemen who had remained behind to defend the donjon, and those of our crofters who sought refuge from the oncoming winter in our snug shelter.

“I’m sure you do,” I answered quietly, gesturing for him to drink. “But partake of the wine first. You are shivering so much all of us can hear your teeth chattering!”

Jannet returned with more of the heated wine and warm blankets. She set the flagon down on the warming table beside the fire and turned to wrap the dry wool around Tavish’s shaking shoulders. He gulped at the goblet gratefully and snuggled deeper into the blankets before speaking again.

“Milord is at the Bluestone Tower,” the courier cradled the wine in both hands, seeking to warm his fingers against its heat. “The Colovian forces are there.”

“Who arrived first?” Robert Whitearm, the burly castellan, shouldered his way through the growing crowd to take his place at my right shoulder.

“Milord did,” Tavish responded. “But before he could take the high ground across the river, the Legions arrived. They possess the bluffs.”

I could see the dismay in Robert’s stony face as he absorbed the implications. From my own studies in milord’s library, I understood that Wallace had just lost the first battle. It would be far more difficult to take on the foe from downhill.

“How many are there?” Robert continued his line of questioning after a moment. Tavish met his gaze unhappily.

“There were three thousand there when I left,” he muttered into his wine. “Five cohorts worth. With more on the way.”

“Damnation!” Robert’s barely suppressed explosion lifted his heavy mustache away from his lips. I shook my head warningly at him. He fell silent, grumbling to himself like a cranky bear roused too early from his winter sleep.

“How are milord’s men?” I turned back to Tavish. He smiled bravely at me.

“They are in good spirits, m’lady,” he lifted the goblet at me. “The stores are full with provisions and arms, and their blades are keen.”

“Does milord require anything from us?” He shook my head at my question.

“M’lord asks that you see to the donjon.” His gaze shifted to Robert. “keep the men alert, and the crofters safe. Winter comes, and promises to be harsh this year.”

“Thank you, Tavish,” I murmured, then turned to Robert. “Please send the patrol out one more time, to try and bring in the rest of the crofters. Things will be very hard for them this winter.”

“You know how they don’t want to leave their livestock,” Robert began. I drew myself up to my fullest height, though the top of my head still fell short of his broad shoulders.

“Then we must find room for all their livestock within the bailey,” I answered. “With so many men away, it’s the only way to keep them safe with the limited manpower we have.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Robert inclined his head in gruff acquiescence. He turned and stalked through the throng, shouting over their gathered heads for his lieutenant. I searched the surrounding faces. A lean man with a hatchet face stepped forward and bowed to me.

“Niall,” I said to the steward, “please see Tavish settled into the thistlemen’s dormitory. Get those wet clothes off of him before he catches bloodlung. And feed him something hot and filling before he falls asleep.”

“As you will, milady,” Niall inclined his upper body again and motioned for Tavish to follow him.

“No,” Tavish rose unsteadily to his feet. “I have a message for m’lady’s ears only.” He turned to me. “Please let me say it before you send me away.”

“Then we will go to milord’s study,” I turned toward the stair set into the wall at the north side of the donjon. “Niall, Jannet, with us please.” I caught the breath of protest the young courier drew and shook my head at him. “Come,” I waved him ahead. He moved forward and fell in behind me obediently.

Wallace’s study sat on the second floor, at the south wall of the donjon. When we reached the entrance, I waved Tavish through, and paused in the doorway. “Niall, Jannet, wait out here. I’ll not keep you long.” They nodded their acquiescence and I closed the door before them.

In the center of the book lined room, Tavish turned uneasily toward me. “This is a message from milord,” he spoke quietly. I stepped forward so we were mere inches apart.

“Tell me.” I said softly.

“Milord says to make the donjon ready to receive wounded,” Tavish’s blue eyes grew unfocused as he recalled Wallace’s exact words. “He expects massive casualties at the blades of the Legions.”

“Does he still expect to defeat the Colovians?” I asked. Tavish looked down at me. Not quite as tall as Sir Robert, he still had height on me, as did most of the residents of Cardonaccum. “Tell me the truth,” I demanded softly.

“Yes, m’lady,” Tavish answered. “Though Sir Laird and Sir Rodric do not agree. Sir Broc sides with milord.”

Of course he would. I kept my initial response silent. “How soon?”

“As soon as their General brings up the rest of his Legions,” Tavish responded. “Milord expects tomorrow or the day after.”

So soon? I hid my dismay and nodded thoughtfully. “Anything else, Tavish?”

“That is all,” the courier ducked his head and swayed slightly. “Milord said you would understand.”

“Thank you, Tavish,” I returned to the corridor door and opened it. “Niall will see you settled for the night. Sleep well.”

“Milady,” Tavish bowed deeply to me. For a breath’s space I feared that he would pitch forward onto his face, but he recovered his balance and shuffled to the door and the waiting steward beyond. After the young man departed, I crossed the corridor to the sleeping quarters I shared with Wallace. Jannet followed me into the sitting room and closed the door behind her.

“I will make it an early night,” I said, turning for the connecting door that led to my sleeping room. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Jannet banked the sitting-room fire and tidied up the reading table while I changed into my nightdress. She peeked into the sleeping room as I pulled the bedcovers back. “Will milady be needing anything else?”

I shook my head at the older woman. “No, thanks very much. Sleep well, Jannet.”

“You as well, milady.” She closed the door after her, and I listened to her footfalls as she crossed the sitting room to her sleeping alcove at the opposite side.

I slipped into the bed and drew up the thick pelts over my lap. Leaning back against the stead, I picked up the book resting on my nightstand. One of Wallace’s volumes, it detailed the attempts of King Vrage of Skyrim to free the Bretons of High Rock from their supposed enslavement. As I opened it to the place marked by a dark green ribbon, something landed on my feet. I looked up as the big black-striped brown moggy padded along my legs to settle beside my right hip. She curled up contentedly and began purring squeakily.

I smiled at her attitude and reached my hand down to stroke the soft fur of her back. The purring rose to thunderous proportions, and she adjusted her position slightly for better gratification. “Cinnie, let me read a bit,” I whispered to the cat. Then I returned to the book. Crossing the River Bjoulsae. I had read it once before, when I married Wallace ten years ago. I had found it difficult to understand then. Not so much now, thanks to my husband’s guidance.

“What are you doing here, Cora?” Wallace’s gentle voice reached me from the doorway of his study. I jumped guiltily and clutched the heavy book to my bosom, afraid of dropping it. The sun shone warm on my back as I turned away from the window to face him. Instead of the wrath I expected to see, his weathered face held only surprise.

“I- I was c- curious,” I stammered, bowing my head in shame. “Forgive me, milord.” I moved to return the book to its place among its brethren on one of the library shelves. In a long stride Wallace placed his sword hand on my wrist, the calluses of its palm hard against my skin.

He plucked the book from my hands and glanced at the cover. “Crossing the River Bjoulsae?” He turned to me. “Look at me, Cora.” Hesitantly I obeyed, looking up into his lean visage. “Why are you reading a military history book? My first wife’s romances are over there.” He gestured to the opposite side of the room. I flinched at the reminder of my predecessor.

“Th- they’re n- not in- interesting.” I managed to get the words out. His grey brows rose, startled.

“Not interesting?” he repeated disbelievingly. “And this is?” He hefted the thick volume and regarded me thoughtfully. Silently I nodded. “Do you understand any of it?”

I had to shake my head. “I- it’s not e- easy, milord.”

He touched my lips. “It’s just the two of us, Cora. You don’t need to address me so formally.”

Again I lowered my eyes. “Yes, mi - Wallace.”

My husband set the book back on the shelf with greater ease than I had in obtaining it from its high perch. “Come, sit down a moment, Cora.” He drew me to one of a pair of leather upholstered chairs placed near the fireplace. “Why do you want to learn military history and tactics?”

I looked up at him as I took the indicated chair. He met my gaze when he had seated himself in the twin. When I didn’t answer, his brows rose. I found myself still fascinated by them. Wonderfully expressive they were, as were his stormy grey eyes. For all that he was so much older than me, by a good thirty years, Wallace was still clean-jointed, still limber and trim after years of fighting and training. Once again I saw the sadness in his gaze, the sadness that never left. Once again I renewed my private vow to dispel that private grief.

“When I sit with you and your men at dinner,” I made myself speak slowly. I didn’t stammer, and felt proud. “I want to be able to understand your conversation.”

He leaned back, his eyes steady on me. “Really? Even when their wives discuss things with you?”

I shook my head. “Talk of spinning and dyeing wool, of crocheting, of pickling and salting food for the winter doesn’t interest me.”

“They should,” he shook a callused finger chidingly at me. “The work of women are just as important as that of men. More so, even. For without their hard work, we’d be too hungry and too cold to fight!”

“And without men who know how to fight, there’d be no women to feed and clothe them!” I countered with some heat before I caught myself. My eyes sought the fire. “I’m sorry, mil - Wallace.”

“Don’t be,” Wallace’s tone turned gentle again. “Cora, are you truly interested in our conversations over dinner?”

I peeked warily at him. Unlike my guardian, who had scorned and ridiculed my interest in military tactics, Wallace seemed genuinely accepting. I nodded.

“Very well,” he set his hands on the arms of his chair. The leather-covered wood frame creaked as he pushed himself to his feet. “Then it would be wise to begin with this,” he moved back to his collection of military books and ran his finger along their spines. Finding the one he sought, he pulled it out. “This book is the first book I ever read. It will explain the basics you need to understand everything else, including Bjoulsae.” He tapped my ambitious selection with a knuckle, then returned to the hearth with the slimmer volume. “Start with this one, and work your way up to that one. We’ll talk about it some more after you finish reading it. Understood?”

I looked at the cover of the book he handed me. Art of War. Breathlessly, I looked up at him. He smiled, that sadness not quite disappearing, and waited for my answer. “Yes, I understand, Wallace,” I managed to whisper. He touched my cheek with his fingertips before turning and leaving me alone in his study.

“Yes, I understand, Wallace,” I whispered as my eyes refocused on the book in my lap. Cinnie picked her head up at the sound of my voice and yawned, before shifting back into sleep.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Jul 1 2013, 03:03 AM

[haute ecole rider]

@Kazaera: Yes, Cora's choice to withhold her own counsel is very revealing of her personality. I hope to show more of how her personality was shaped by her early experiences and how much her marriage to Wallace changed her life and her self-perception. Old doubts will continue to plague her from time to time. And yes, Rodric, like Robert, is one of those men who just have a gift for seeing things as they really are. I too, love the old guy - he is one of those characters I keep returning to just because I enjoy his interactions with Cora and the others. I also think you are not too far off in your assessment of Laird and Broc.

@SubRosa: Yes, Lady Elspeth was gorgeous! I was searching Pre-Raphealite paintings, and came across this one. She just looked at me and said "I am she who came before . . ." I wrote the description before I found the portrait, so sheer serendipity ruled the day here. I always thought the game was confusing in its treatment of gender relations - there are plenty of women in what would be considered non-traditional roles IRL - smiths, guard captains, adventurers, and battle mages, yet the TES history shows scant evidence of female rulers, and in TES IV itself, we have only one Countess who did not come to her position due to the death of a husband. And the Ruby Throne is handed down from father to heir, not from mother. So I wanted to explore this a little bit here. And I think Talos has his own mind in the matter of Cardonaccum politics.

@Officer Condiment (my favorite one, BTW): Well, I started writing this one before I read the first volume of Game of Thrones, so no, I suspect it won't be so Machiavellian as that series. It's funny but I never continued reading, even though I found the first volume quite enthralling. I think it's because my favorite characters were killed at the beginning and I just didn't want to read any more. Besides, I hate long series (I should talk, though . . .).

@McB: Glad you enjoyed how I'm developing the villains here. I've always felt that the bad guys were just as interesting as the good ones, and I love stories that tell us how the bad characters turned out, well, bad. They have motivations just as our protagonists do, and seeing what drives them (other than the stereotypical desire to take over the world mwuahahaha) just makes them more real and interesting, IMHO.

@ghastley: Wallace has taught Cora well. We are now beginning to see just how well. So are her knights. And yes, she will talk to Talos before returning to her knights with her decision.

@Acadian: No pressure, indeed!

@BamBam: I'm with you in my fan-girl-ness! I loved reading about Talos Stormcrown - all the stories about his exploits and accomplishments and the different versions of how he came to be Emperor etc etc etc just makes it fun to tease out the man behind the legends. Talos will always be my favorite Dragonborn, simply because in my mind, he is just how the Dragonborn ought to be. It's interesting that though the Amulet of Kings have been passed down from Dragonborn to Dragonborn (I would hope), none of them have measured up to the standards set by Talos (except maybe Martin Septim). Will Onchu, Laird and Broc realize the the severity of their underestimation of this tiny woman from the Reaches before it's too late? Will Talos also make the same mistake? Read on!

@Grits: Don't you hate it when the "heroine" submits to society's definition of a "real" woman? However, I suspect that you will find Cora is not prone to such weaknesses. Though she remains plagued by self-doubts, I think we will see her find her own way and stick to it.

The story so far: Cora now has a clear idea of where her knights and priest stands regarding her assumption of the rule of Cardonaccum. Now she begins preparing for her meeting with General Talos.

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Chapter Seven

Niall poured the steaming mug of strong tea and set it on the desk before me. I looked up from the ledgers he had provided as he stepped back. “Is this everything?” I asked him. He nodded and set the teapot down on the nearby table.

“Everything from the past five years,” he said. “If you want to go further back, let me know and I will recover the older books from the archives.” He returned to the desk and gestured toward the green books. “Those are concerning consumables - meat, drink, spices, salt, and so on.” He touched the stack of blue volumes with an index finger. “And these have to do with durables - fabric and clothing, crockery, metalware having to do with the running of the castle. And these,” he indicated the brown books, “have to do with the stables, livestock, and their produce.”

“And these red ones?” I asked, laying my hand on the stack of thick volumes.

“Those are from the manors and crofts - income from wool, mining, fishing, and so on.” Niall did not meet my surprised gaze. “And the black ones have to do with the soldiers - training, weaponry, armor, and all that.”

“Those are the Lord’s responsibilities,” I leaned back in the high-backed chair. Now the lean steward met my eyes.

“Now they are yours, as well.” He caught the flicker in my gaze. “Aye, we heard what Sir Laird proposed to you last night. The whole castle’s talking about it.”

Jannet straightened up from stoking the fire in the hearth. “Ach, that’s right!” She moved to stand beside Niall. “And we’ll have you know, milady, that we consider you Lord and Lady both right proper!”

I reached up to the fall of black hair that cascaded over my left shoulder as I gazed out the study window. “I am not certain Sir Laird sees it that way,” I began.

“Nonsense!” Jannet snapped. “That old fart’s too ambitious for his own good. Overreaching his station, he is! You wouldn’t be the first Lady to carry on after the death of the Lord, that much is certain!” She frowned at me, concern emerging in her canny gaze. “And that young Sir Broc, he’s no head for administration, or leading with anything other than his dagger! If I could tell you the things I’ve heard about that one -"

“That’s not for a proper lady to hear,” Niall made a chopping motion with his hand. He turned back to me. “All night the castle folk have been coming to me, begging me to tell you one thing.” Jannet nodded vigorously, grey locks floating loose from her severe bun. “You have the support of us all. We trust you to know what’s best.”

I lowered my left hand to the desk and stared at Niall. “Well,” I said finally. “Thank you for that vote of confidence. I haven’t yet decided -"

“We know you’ll do the right thing,” Niall smiled thinly at me. “And we know you’ll only make your decision when you’ve considered all the options.” He bowed to me and turned away.

Jannet winked at me and made to follow the steward. “Just a moment,” I called after them. They stopped and glanced back. “Please have Robert come to me when he is done with morning rounds.”

“As you wish, milady,” Niall said.

After the door snicked closed behind them, I leaned back in the chair. So the castle folk support me? Does that mean I can stand up to Sir Laird, Sir Broc and that odious Onchu? Sir Rodric has stated he would support me, that means he’ll also give me his men should I have need of a fighting force. What of the soldiers sworn to Wallace? Are they of Laird’s ilk? Or more like Robert? I closed my eyes for a moment, giving in to the weariness in my bones. I had not slept at all for the second night in a row, afraid of facing my nightmares alone.

The weak autumn sun broke through the chill morning gloom and roused me from a fitful nap. I sat up and gulped the tea, now cooling. Can’t fall asleep now! I have so much work to do, and think about. Then there’s my meeting with the General.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my perusal of the amount of copper mined last year. “Please come in,” I called. Robert entered the study, and immediately filled it with his presence. He paused just within the doorway.

“Please, sit,” I waved at the upholstered chairs in front of the hearth. As he moved toward the nearer one, I rose and joined him. His chosen seat creaked beneath his bulk as he seated himself gingerly. “Robert, I’d like to thank you for the support you’ve shown me these past couple of days,” I began.

“It’s the best way to honor Lord Wallace,” he said gruffly. “Milord was my friend all those years ago, and has remained so, though I did not deserve it.” He looked down at his callused hands. “It’s the least I can do for the debt I owe him.”

“Then I shall be ever in your debt, Robert,” I said. “And I trust you, of all the men here, to tell me the truth as it is. But there is one thing that I must make clear, if we are to move forward.”

Robert met my gaze. “What is it, milady?”

“You made the decision to allow General Talos to witness the funeral of the man he vanquished. You did so without asking me.” I held up my hand when he drew a deep breath. “I understand why you didn’t, and I appreciate it. But please understand, if I am to take Wallace’s place, you must not be seen to be undermining my authority.”

Robert leaned his head back, his eyes blinking in consternation. “Undermine your authority? Never!”

I smiled at his vehemence. “Robert, I know you are accustomed to thinking of me as the Lady you are sworn to protect. But let me ask you this: If it had been Lord Wallace sitting vigil over my dead body, would you have made such a decision on your own?”

“Of course not!” Robert shook his head. “The Lord must know of all, be aware of every little thing at all times -" His voice trailed off and his eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “Of course, you are the Lord now.” He turned his face away. “I am sorry, forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you, Robert,” I responded, reaching across the small table to pat his left hand reassuringly. “After all, you acted as you saw fit. I would suggest that in the future, you come to me as you once came to Lord Wallace. If I am to take his place, that is the way things must be.”

He took my hand in his, warming my fingers with his callused palm. “Of course, milady.” He nodded to himself. “Lord Wallace was right, you understand much more than you let on.”

“I learned much from Lord Wallace,” I answered, leaning back in my chair. “Tell me of the Legions. Do we know what they are up to?”

“I received a report last night that they have camped at Thistle Downs.” Robert replied. “That’s only a few hours’ march from here.”

I rose to my feet and paced to the tall windows that looked south into the warm sunlight. Robert rose as well, but remained standing beside the chairs. “That must be what General Talos meant when he said our time is limited.” I took a deep breath. “They must have standing orders to march if he does not return to them by a certain time.”

Robert was silent for a moment. “That sounds very likely, milady,” he said finally, and I could hear new respect in his voice. “It probably explains why he didn’t exactly surrender.”

“But why would he come here himself?” I asked. “He was victorious at the river, why did he come here alone but for a few companions, and why did he allow you to take him prisoner? Returning Lord Wallace’s horse and gear is just an excuse.”

“And a risk,” Robert agreed. “Like you said to him, what’s to stop you from using those emblems to rally the survivors around you and continue resisting Talos’s Legions?”

“He wants something.” I turned my back to the sun. “But what? We’re a small holding, nothing like Wayrest or Daggerfall -“

“We’re one of many, it’s true,” Robert agreed. “But look at where we’re located. At the foot of the Wrothgarians. On the other side are the Western Reaches.”

“And we sit at the foot of the lowest pass,” I nodded to myself. “But why would General Talos be concerned about them? Most of their mages were killed at Sancre Tor last winter.” My father and brother among them, though there’s little love lost between us.

“He can’t possibly think that the Reachmen would strike at him now?” Robert ran his fingers through his beard. “Winter’s coming on, and those passes are already impassable from the snow.”

I drew myself up to my fullest diminutive height. “The morning is wearing on,” I said. “It’s time I spoke to General Talos.”

“Must you do so?” Robert regarded me dubiously. “What can he tell you that is so important?”

“Exactly,” I answered. “What does he have to say to me that he would come here virtually unguarded? And his Legions? What are their standing orders? What if they start rampaging through Cardonaccum? We don’t have the men to stop them, do we?”

“I would have to check with Enrick, but I don’t think so.”

“Enrick?” I repeated the unfamiliar name. “That’s Wallace’s second-in-command of the forces, isn’t he?”

“Aye,” Robert nodded confirmation. “The one who swore fealty to you last night.”

I made my decision. “Very well, Robert. Have Enrick post every whole man on the walls of the bailey. Send outriders down the road and up on the moor to watch for movement. Once that’s done, bring General Talos to me. I would hear what he has to say.”

“Milady,” Robert bowed his acquiescence. “I would advise that you don’t meet with him alone.”

“Of course not,” I answered. “That’s why I want you present.” I paced away from the window to the study desk. “Naturally he would want to bring his companions with. Allow him only one, the others will have to remain in the salt room.”

“As you wish, milady.”