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]

@ghastley: Yes, Lady Cora has the gumption to stand up to men three times her size and lay down the law. As we've seen earlier in the story, she has grown tremendously since she was a nervous little bride of eighteen.

@Acadian: You had mentioned earlier that people are going to start stuttering out of respect and admiration for our Lady Cora. I, on the other hand, think it would be more meaningful if women chose to go barefoot in all kinds of weather . . . Yes, I agree that Wallace's true legacy is the woman he chose to be his second wife and the one to succeed him. He saw something in her back then that no one else (including Lady Cora herself) could quite see. Makes me wonder if he had the Gift himself . . . And yes, Cora knows well the key to an army's loyalty is keeping their bellies full.

@SubRosa: Not to worry, Siné will step up and fill in for Saint Pillsbury. She is an incredibly strong character in her own right, and Lady Cora recognizes (and even leans on) that strength. We will see more of Siné not only as a healer, but also as a priest of Arkay.

@McB: As always I enjoy your comments. The addition of the gestures just makes them more fun to read! Umm, I have a taste for stew myself too - remember Grits posted the Cloud Ruler Temple Beef Stew recipe over on the cooking thread!

@Overcast and Rainy: (can't you tell that I'm looking out the window at cold, dreary rain right now? And me in the depths of a cold!) Laird may be an idiot, but even he isn't that much of an idiot to think General Talos would deal with him. After all, the good General practically ignored Laird when they confronted each other on the steps. Actually, I see his flight from the castle as fleeing a sinking ship, and he took Cirsium because he plans on returning to claim the castle once Talos has finished off Lady Cora. The one thing he can't foresee is that Talos would treat with Lady Cora as an equal, due to his own inability to see the little woman just that way.

@Grits: Your speculation on Cirsium's fate is interesting, but I don't think Talos is in the business of running a Lost and Found. Not to worry, we will find out in upcoming weeks what happens with that shield.

The story so far: Sir Laird has taken his men and his family and departed Cardonaccum. He has stolen Cirsium out of the Chapel, likely with Onchu's assistance, as the Pillsbury Priest has also left with him. Now we learn the consequences of such a rash decision on his part.

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Chapter Twelve

As Padriac murmured relieved thanks for my understanding, the trapdoor above us slammed back and a helmed head appeared in the square of sky. “Castellan!” he shouted down. “There’s trouble on the road!”

“What?” Robert darted for the ladder, fast in spite of his bulk. I turned and ran for the door that led to the top of the gate arch, Padriac on my heels.

Outside the wind was even colder than it was a few minutes ago, and scattered flakes of white struck my cheeks. I drew the cloak closer about me and stepped onto the parapet. Captain Enrick turned from his vantage point and bowed slightly in acknowledgement of my arrival. “There,” he pointed out the swirling of torches visible among the trees in the distance.

“About h- how far away are they?” I asked.

“Speed they were going?” Enrick responded. “About a mile or so. Looks like the Legions moved closer under cover.”

“If th- they blackened their steel,” I muttered, “we wouldn’t see the light flashing off of them. Damn!” I squinted, a vain attempt to see more completely through the trees. Faint shouts drifted up the valley toward us, screams and curses. My hands clenched on the wall as we listened helplessly. Finally the only sounds we could hear was hoofbeats of running horses.

“I need to speak to the th- three of you,” I said to Enrick and Padriac. I looked up at the gathering dusk. “Let’s fetch R- Robert and meet in Sir Rodric’s room immediately.”

“Yes, milady,” Enrick cast his eyes upward toward the top of the eastern gate tower. He made a signal as Padriac escorted me back into the tower.

Rodric’s Captain was silent as we walked back to the donjon. I was lost in my own thoughts and nearly stumbled on the steps leading up to the great doors. He caught my elbow and steadied me. “Be careful, milady,” he said quietly.

“Thank you, C- Captain,” I waited as he opened the door for us. “It’s all a bit overwhelming for me.”

“It is for anyone their first time,” he responded. “Combat, siege, anything.” He fell silent again as we mounted the wide staircase leading up to the second floor.

Robert and Enrick appeared a few breaths behind us while Padriac tersely reported the situation to Sir Rodric. “I doubt Laird could survive that,” the castellan commented. Enrick nodded grimly.

“Milady thinks the Legion blackened their brights - that’s how they were able to get so close unseen.” He bowed in my direction. “I have to agree that’s a reasonable assumption.”

“Which means there are others doing the same!” Robert exclaimed. “Make certain everyone manning the walls tonight know to be extra watchful, and to keep constant contact with each other.”

“Yes, sir,” Enrick responded. They turned to look at me.

I met Rodric’s gaze. “The r- reason I asked all of you to meet here is because I need your experience right now. We have a h- hard decision ahead of us.”

“What decision is that?” Rodric asked.

“I don’t know for c- certain what General Talos will do,” I began pacing. “He now has Cirsium, I doubt he’ll r- return it a second time. What will he th- think of Laird’s escape attempt?”

“Fully armed Bretons sallying out from Cardonaccum?” Enrick asked. “I suspect that he would think we intend to resist to the last man.”

“Agreed,” I nodded. “Yet another way he would see this as Sir Laird fleeing a sinking sh- ship.”

“Like the rat that he is!” Robert exclaimed, his mustache bristling.

“In either case,” Padriac rubbed his clean shaven chin thoughtfully, “General Talos will attack tonight.”

“In the dark?” Rodric exclaimed. “With no moon?”

“What better time?” Enrick countered. “The fact that his men have covered their steel to hide their approach along the road indicates that he was planning a night attack anyway. Could be Sir Laird’s resistance changed the timing for him.”

Rodric turned to me. “What of Laird’s wife Edine? Any sign of her?”

I shook my head. “I doubt that she or the ch- children will be well-treated at the hands of the Legions, especially with Laird fighting th- them.”

“We don’t know for certain if he attacked first, or they did,” Robert fingered his beard. “They may have ambushed him when they saw him coming.”

“Why?” I asked. “If th- they were sneaking up on us, would they give their position away? Especially with more of the Legions behind th- them to deal with Laird?” I shook my head. “I s- suspect Laird saw them first, and chose to attack.” By the looks on the mens’ faces, I could see that they had not thought of it themselves. “Well, all we know for certain is th- that Laird fought the Legion’s advance forces. And we all agree that General Talos is likely to attack us tonight.” I sighed, fear and worry forming a hard knot in the pit of my stomach. “Do we r- resist, or do we ask for a parley?”

The men were silent for several long breaths, avoiding each others’ gazes. They avoided mine too, as I looked from one to the next. I sighed. “I promised milord that I would take c- care of C-Cardonaccum in the event of his passing,” I said finally. “The question I am asking myself is th- this: how best to do so? If we resist, they c- can lay waste to the lands around us.” I turned to look at Rodric. “Th- that means your manor, Sir Broc’s, and Sir Laird’s will be demolished. The crops s- stored there will be lost.” I met Robert’s gaze. “And our mines up in the h- hills will be overrun. We would die free, but would it be worth it?”

The two Captains’ gazes flashed at me, then they looked away. Robert regarded me thoughtfully. “Are you proposing we surrender to General Talos?” he asked. “For certain, that too, would obliterate Cardonaccum. What’s to stop him from laying waste to the lands and enslaving its good folk?”

“If you can see a way to preserve Cardonaccum for its good folk,” Rodric added, “you can count on me to support you. If that means dealing with the daedra himself, then all I can say is do so very carefully.”

“Until then,” Enrick continued the discussion, “my thinking is to resist, if only to buy time.” He waved his hand expressively at the stone walls surrounding us. “We can hold out here for quite a long time.”

“As long as we are not betrayed from within,” I answered. “I’m not c- certain of Sir Broc’s loyalty.”

“We’ll keep a close eye on him!” Rodric growled. “Don’t worry about that upstart hedge knight!”

“Don’t insult h- his father,” I said mildly. Rodric grunted and looked away with a scowl. “S- Sir Duncan was a good man.”

A loud knocking at the door interrupted Rodric’s grudging agreement. Robert opened it to reveal a young thistleman, the same one who had fetched me earlier this afternoon. “Castellan, on the road!”

Robert did not hesitate, but shoved past the boy and disappeared, with the Captains on his heels. I glanced at Rodric, who waved me to go. I turned back to the young thistleman. “What about the r- road?” I demanded.

“A horse and rider, milady,” he answered. “We can’t quite make out who it is.”

I murmured something to Rodric and ran out after the others. The boy fell in beside me. “Wh- what is your name?” I realized that my stuttering had grown worse as the day wore on, and silently cursed my affliction.

“Calum, milady,” he panted as we crossed the great hall.

“Thank you, C- Calum!” I responded when he darted ahead of me to open the door. I ran through in time to see the bailey gates swing wide, and a horse, her white hide splashed dark, gallop through. A limp form depended from her right side, foot caught in the stirrup. As men ran to catch the panicked mount, I recognized Edine’s palfrey. The mare tossed her head and whirled, avoiding the grasping hands and trampling on the unhorsed rider. She whinnied and spun for the gate, but the thistlemen there were already closing it. Eyes wide with fear and pain, she bolted around the courtyard.

Is that man even still alive? My heart in my mouth, I ran down to the courtyard as the horse veered toward me. I whistled softly, catching her attention. When her ears tipped toward me, I began humming tunelessly, walking slowly into her path. She skidded to a stop and dropped her head against my chest. I stroked her neck, whispering soothing words to her. The pain and fear that surged into me at my touch nearly staggered me, but I kept still. When I was certain the mare was no longer panicked, I took her rein and rubbed her long nose.

Calum appeared at my side, his eyes wide in wonder. I handed him the reins and moved to the mare’s right side. The man-at-arms lay sprawled on the ground, his leather surcoat torn to rags, his mail battered into shreds. The unnatural angle of his lower leg told me his leg had broken, likely when he fell from the horse. I knelt beside him as thistlemen brought torches near.

“Someone c- cut his leg free and get the mare into a s- stall,” I ordered, my eyes on the man’s bare head. “And fetch Siné!” Blood obscured his expression, making it difficult to tell if he still lived. When I reached down to gently ease his head into a more comfortable position, I felt a soft spot above his right ear. He stirred at my touch, and his eyes cracked open through the scarlet covering his face. When his gaze met mine, he struggled to speak.

“Be quiet,” I said.”We’re getting th- the healer for you.” I undid the clasp at my throat and flung my cloak over him.

“Milady - “ his voice rasped with the agony of his extensive injuries. “Sir Laird - dead - his lady - taken -“

My jaw clenched at the news. “We s- saw,” I answered. “But be quiet. Don’t t- try to talk any more.”

“He- “ the soldier gasped, his eyes turning upwards until only the whites showed. “- help -“ His breath escaped in a guttering vapor trail. Snow flakes dropped onto his unblinking eyes as I felt his heart stop beneath my hands.

“Milady,” Robert reached down to me and plucked me up by my shoulders. “Let us take care of him.”

“H- he was one of Laird’s men,” I resisted Robert’s grip. “H- he was asking for help. J- just because h- he followed Sir Laird doesn’t -“

Robert gave me a gentle shake. “It’s too late for him,” he said softly, bending down so that only I heard him. Finally I nodded and let him lead me away, toward the donjon. He escorted me up the stone steps to the doors, then stopped me. “Milady, it’s been a very long day.” Weariness weighed his voice down, the same weariness I felt in my own bones. “You’re exhausted. Go inside, get some sleep. We’ll keep watch all night.”

I looked up at him. “Promise me you’ll s- send for me if anything ch- changes, won’t you?”

“I promise, milady,” he answered.

Storms

Jannet met me in the great hall. She pressed a steaming mug of tea into my hands and insisted that I drink it. When I had obeyed her, she led me upstairs to my sleeping quarters. Exhausted after two days and two nights without sleep, I did not protest as she took Thistlethorn from my back and laid it across the trunk at the foot of my bed, nor when she undressed me and brushed out my tangled hair. Numbly I slid beneath the sleeping pelts and curled up on my side.

Jannet fussed over me a few moments more, then blew out the candles and left me alone. As soon as the door closed after her stooped form, Cinnie leaped onto the bed and tucked herself in the curve of my belly. She kneaded the pelts slowly, rumbling softly all the while. Unlike the other night, when she had purred in contentment, tonight her presence was empathetic. I caught her up in my hands and pressed her soft body against my face. As I wept into her fur, I let her experience the entirety of the fear and worry and grief I had stifled all day.