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]

@SubRosa: I am glad you have finally figured out the geographic location. I am not sure just where the Crypt of Hearts is, but I will trust your judgment. And yes, you are right - Sirs Laird and Broc are dangerous foes indeed.

@Stratocumulus: Take your time and enjoy! It's good to see you gaining so much from your reading of my little story.

@Grits: That discussion between Robert and Lady Cora was fun to write! There are more to come!

@McB: Niall and Jannet make quite the pair - they represent the castle servants and are great to write, even though they have relatively minor roles.

@ghastley: What's holding Lady Cora back is the time she needs to gather her resources and fully assess her situation. Remember, she has studied Art of War and Crossing the Bjoulsae, among others. She is merely following her education.

@Acadian: Thanks for pointing out the obvious - the longer the supply lines, the harder it is to maintain an army's momentum. Still true, even in this day and age of air support.

@BamBam: Yes, you are right, Talos has the TES version of the Deadman's Trigger as his Plan B. As for weather control, well, let's just say that marching armies under clear skies would take an awful amount of energy Magicka. More than a mere mortal can generate. And sorry, I'm writing of Talos the man, not TALOS THE LEGENDARY IMMORTAL DRAGONBORN OF ALL TIME!!!

The story so far: We have watched Lady Cora gather information about her situation and learn who supports her as Wallace's successor and who doesn't. Now we get to what everyone is so anxiously waiting for: Talos's proposal.

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Chapter Eight

I turned from the book in my lap to the sun, now stronger as it neared zenith. “On fatal terrain I will show them that we will not live.” That is what Wallace set out to do. Must I do this, as well? Must I stand firm? Do I even have the courage and resources to do so? I considered the book again, then turned the pages back to an earlier section.

Aha, here it is: “Subjugating the enemy’s army without fighting is the true pinnacle of excellence.” That is what I will have to do - with Sir Laird, Sir Broc, and Onchu, as well as this General Talos. “If I do not want to engage in combat, even though I merely draw a line upon the ground and defend it, they will not be able to engage me in battle because we thwart their movements.” I will remember these words.

I closed the book and swung my bare feet to the floor. Footsteps in the open doorway of the study drew my attention upwards. Niall entered with a fresh pot of tea. “Robert asked me to bring this to you, milady,” he said with a bow. “He is on his way with the prisoners.”

Carefully I set the ancient book aside and rose from the window seat. “Thank you, Niall.” I gestured for him to set it up on the library table. “I will take it from there.” As he bowed and left, I moved to the teapot and refilled my clay cup.

Booted footfalls warned me of Robert’s approach. I carried my tea to the desk and moved to take my seat behind it.

“Milady,” Robert stepped into the room. “General Talos and Lieutenant Titus Alorius.” He moved aside to let the others enter.

As imposing as Robert’s presence was, it dwindled next to Talos. Though the general was of average height and build, he carried himself with an arrogant confidence that filled the room and made its impressive book collection seem insignificant. Behind him, Titus Alorius seemed like a mere slip of a boy between Talos and Robert.

Yet Talos’s so young. Only twenty-five. Younger even than me. But those eyes. For the first time, I could see them clearly. They were not dark, as I had surmised before, but a startlingly clear hazel.

Once again the shaken feeling swept through me as we locked gazes. Then he bowed courteously to me. “Lady Cora,” his quiet voice carried across the study, full of authority and calm. “Thank you for giving me a little of your time.”

I seated myself before my knees gave way. This is ridiculous! Robert would never let him harm me! “P- please, have a seat,” I gestured toward the two upholstered chairs beside the fire. Somehow my hand didn’t shake as I sipped at the tea. Robert shifted to stand beside the desk, unquestionably my bodyguard in this situation. As the two men moved to sit, I took a deep breath to steady myself and to scare away the stutter I could feel surging in my throat. “I trust you find your accommodations agreeable?”

Talos glanced up as he settled himself more comfortably in the chair - not an easy thing with his plate armor. “Yes, quite,” he replied, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. “Though surrounded by salt as we are, our thirst has been uncommonly strong.”

I ignored the implied criticism of our castle’s courtesy. “I believe Robert has been diligent in seeing to your needs,” I said slowly. After another sip of the strong tea, I folded my hands on the desk. “General, you said you had a p- proposal for me. Now’s the time.”

“I can help you with your quandary if you’ll help me with mine,” Talos got right to the point. His hazel eyes held mine steadily as I considered his words. What quandary is he talking about? How to get demoralized men through the winter? How to maintain Cardonaccum’s independence against an invasion force? How to get rid of him?

“What q- quandary is that?” I managed to keep my stammering under control. Talos’s next words caught me off guard.

“Do you wish to lead Cardonaccum in light of your husband’s passing?”

I stared at him. “Wh- what does it matter to you?” I remembered to keep my breathing slow to neutralize my stutter. “You’re here to conquer every lord in High Rock, aren’t you?”

Talos regarded me for a few moments. “‘When employing them in battle, a victory that is long in coming will blunt their weapons and dampen their ardor.’”

I stifled my involuntary gasp at recognizing the words I knew so well, words I had read so many times over in Art of War. Silence settled into the study as my mind raced through the implications. He’s read the book and is very familiar with it. No wonder he was so successful at Sancre Tor, and so far in High Rock. But does the fact that he quoted this particular statement mean that he is overextended and knows it? Just how much does he know of the situation here? I lowered my eyes from Talos and sipped again at my tea to gain a little more time.

“I see that you are familiar with a certain book,” Talos continued calmly. He nodded in the direction of the window seat when I looked back at him. “I, too, have studied the same material. You don’t need me to tell you that I hold its precepts close to my heart.” Now he inclined his head at me. “Nor do I doubt you do the same.”

I leaned back in the chair, speechless. Even my stutter was silent. Beside me Robert grew tense as he looked from Talos to me. Finally I took a deep breath. Then another.

“I believe you intend to carry on Lord Wallace’s legacy at Cardonaccum,” Talos continued. “And I understand that certain people are not supportive of the idea. Sir Laird has already offered to relieve you of the burden, hasn’t he?” He rose from his chair and moved to the window seat. As I stared, he picked up the ancient volume I had been reading and carefully paged through it. Finding the place he sought, he brought the book to me and laid it on the desk, open to a page in the latter half.

I did not have to read far to see his meaning. “In general, as for the armies you want to strike, the cities you want to attack, and the men you want to assassinate, you must first know the names of the defensive commander, his assistants, staff, door guards, and attendants.” Talos returned to his seat and moved to stand behind it, resting his arms on its high back. I regarded him thoughtfully. He’s telling me he has spies within Cardonaccum. Why?

“Lady Cora, you can not keep your position without help.” He tipped his head respectfully at Robert. “I don’t doubt there are those here who have sworn you their staunch support. But not only do you have enemies within, but also without Cardonaccum.”

“Such as you,” I said when he paused. “So what is your proposal?”

“I will support you in your position here as Lord Cora of Cardonaccum.” Talos’s smile did not reach his hazel eyes.

Robert inhaled sharply. “We don’t --“ He stopped when I held up my hand. “Sorry, milady,” he muttered so that only I heard.

I sipped my tea again. “And what do you hope to gain in return?”

“An ally, no more,” he answered simply. “I had hoped to make this proposal to Lord Wallace himself, but he moved before I could send him a messenger.” He looked down at his loosely clasped hands. I could see the scrapes and bruises across his knuckles that came with combat. “It is rather unfortunate that he died under these circumstances.” He ran his left thumb across his right palm. “But I still would rather have you as my ally than as my enemy.”

“Even if it means making an enemy out of Sir Laird?” I asked. “For certain he wouldn’t accept such an alliance with you.”

He looked up at me from beneath brows shaped like swallow’s wings. “Exactly why I am speaking to you, Lady Cora, and not him.” He shrugged expressively. “Sir Laird will always be my enemy, but as long as he does not hold Cardonaccum, he is of no concern to me.”

I leaned my left elbow on the arm of my chair and rested my jaw in my upraised palm. “I don’t doubt that he would seek an excuse to unseat me. He thinks he already has one.”

“That you’re a woman?” Talos asked. “Or a barefoot Witch?”

Again I reeled from surprise, though I kept myself motionless in the chair. He knows entirely too much. Does he know that I’ve been seeing him in my nightmares since I was twelve years old?

“Like I said, as long as he does not hold Cardonaccum, Sir Laird does not concern me.” Talos straightened up and set his hands on the upholstered back of the chair.

“If I were to become your - “ I hesitated briefly, the stutter surging into my mouth. “- ally, Sir Laird will m- most certainly unseat me. He has a c- considerable number of men still at his disposal. Cardonaccum lost too many at Bluestone Tower.”

“That is why,” Talos nodded at the officer in the opposite chair, “Lieutenant Alorius and his century will stay here to augment your garrison.” I caught the startled glance the younger soldier shot his commander. To his credit, Titus schooled his expression back into a neutral cast and avoided my gaze.

“You would give me men and your support,” I said finally. “But exactly what d- do you want from me?”

“Vigilance.” Talos responded. “Cardonaccum straddles the western approach to An Sloc. It is the first pass through the Wrothgarians to open in the spring, and the last one to close in the fall.”

I considered his words. The western access to the Reaches. Talos has many enemies among the Reachmen, especially after that massacre at Sancre Tor. “Aren’t you concerned that I may betray such as you to my kinsmen?” I drained my tea and rose to my feet. “After all, not only did you kill my husband two days ago, but my father and brother died at your hands last winter.”

“That was regrettable,” Talos’s tone held none of that emotion. “But I stand by that decision. Just as I stand by my decision to seek an alliance with you, Lady Cora.” He moved to sit down. “I know you won’t betray me. Lord Wallace has taught you of honor too well.”

I moved to the library table where the teapot rested, surrounded by stacked cups. I refilled my own cup, then paused a moment. If I strike a deal with this man, can I count on the support of his men? Or will he pull them out at the most awkward time and leave me vulnerable? I kept my eyes on the table as I set out three cups and filled them with the tea. Does he want to ally with me because he thinks I’m malleable? Easily swayed? An ignorant barbarian? “Honor?” I repeated, picking up two cups and moving to the chairs where the two men sat.

Titus looked up at me in surprise as I held one to him. He glanced at Talos, who remained impassive. After a moment, Titus accepted the cup but did not drink right away. I turned away from him and held the second cup out to the general. He did not move to take it, and I lifted my brows at him. “D- do you think I would be so foolish to poison you?” My tone became acerbic. “With your l- legions but a few hours’ march away? For all I know, they could already be on the way here. You are more valuable to me alive than dead, General.”

Talos locked gazes with me, then reached to take the clay vessel. “My thanks, Lady Cora. My throat was becoming parched.”

I returned to the table and reclaimed my cup, as well as the last one. Robert accepted it with mild surprise and murmured thanks, and I moved to stand in front of the desk. “Honor, General?” I picked up the conversation. “What do women know of honor?”

“When it comes to honor,” Talos sipped at his tea, “women are just like men. Some understand the concept, others don’t, and still others choose to disregard it.” He met my gaze. “I’d like to think that you understand it and choose not to disregard it.”

I considered him a moment longer. I don’t want to commit to anything without fully understanding its ramifications. And I’m not certain Talos has been entirely forthcoming with me. But his legions are marching on us. He didn’t deny it. “Robert.”

“Yes, milady,” the castellan set his tea down on the desk.

“Escort General Talos and his men to the road. Let them return to their legions.”

Now it was Talos’s turn to show surprise. But he said nothing.

“But milady, you said -“ Robert, unlike Talos, did not keep silent.

“I know I said he was of more value to us alive. But his legions have standing orders.” I locked gazes with Talos. “If I were the General, I would have ordered my men to march on the castle if I did not return alive within a certain period of time.” By the flicker that passed through his hazel eyes, I knew I had guessed right. “I need time. And to get that time, I need to release General Talos.”

“Yes, milady,” Robert bowed curtly to me, then turned to the two soldiers. “You heard Lady Cora, gents. Time to go.”

“Very well,” Talos rose to his feet. “I presume that you will let me know of your decision soon. Perhaps after you have met with Sirs Laird, Rodric and Broc and notified them of your intentions.” He saluted me with the tea. “Thank you for your generous hospitality, Lady Cora.” He set the cup down on the small table between the chairs and turned for the door, Titus on his heels.

A/N: All of the quotations mentioned here are from an actual volume, Sun Tzu's The Art of War. This book is the guiding polestar for all of Lady Cora's strategic and tactical decisions as Lord of Cardonaccum. There are several excellent English translations of this ancient Chinese text which, I'm sure Acadian will verify, is still taught to military officers in leadership school.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 19 2013, 09:00 PM