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

[McBadgere]

Brilliant!!...Love it already... ...

So much - too much - to quote all of what I loved, but the bit with the cat made me smile, as did the rememberance of Wallace's words...Excellent characters, yet again...

A brilliant start to what's sure to be a brilliant new story...Fanatstic!!...

Nice one!!..

*Applauds heartily*...

[SubRosa]

Hello to Cora, Cinnie, and (William) Wallace! Your start is filled with impending dooms. Not just the doom of battle hanging over her husband (facing a foe on the high ground), but also the doom of a hard winter, and a people left unprotected.

Then in the second part we learn something personal about Cora, and her much older husband. She is not in an enviable position, being married to a much older and more experienced man. Let alone being wife #2, and having to make her own place in Wallace's heart after someone else has already staked her claim upon it. Even a ghost is not easy to compete with. Sometimes even harder.

[Acadian]

Congrats on starting a new story!

I see that Cora possesses a nature that is both humble and nurturing, while at the same time commanding. The situation her husband and his knights face seems grave indeed. Nice flashback to help shed some light on Cora’s early days of marriage and show us that she has grown and adjusted a great deal in the past ten years.

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

This is great! Not just the story, but the fact that I have been able to start two brand new stories this week, by two writers that have already graced this forum with epic works! I am not too proud to admit that I had to look up definitions for donjon, crofter, castellan...and thistlemen (which was the only word that was fruitless at dictionary.com, so I still don't know), but that's fine. Nothing wrong with learning something in the process. This looks like it will be a very enjoyable read and I am looking forward to more! Great stuff!

[King Coin]

For some reason when the kitty jumped on Cora, I was expecting something dangerous. Sharing a bed with a kitty is much better and very cozy.

I think the knowledge in those tomes will become important to her shortly. I do not know much of the lore before Oblivion and Skyrim, but this must be before the Empire took the entirety of Cyrodiil.

[haute ecole rider]

@McB: Thanks for your warm welcome for my newest character, Lady Cora. I rather suspected you would like this story. There's more to like coming up!

@Sage Rose: Dooms indeed! There will be more coming. I wanted to show the typical life led by the wife of a minor noble. Only in my eyes, both Lady Cora and Lord Wallace are not typical, and their relationship is something special. She is very fortunate in this marriage. We will see more of the previous's wife's lingering ghost in this newest chapter.

@Acadian: Yes, Lady Cora has grown tremendously in the ten years of her marriage. Lord Wallace played no small part in that. I hope to show more of just how special their relationship is in upcoming parts. I think you hit the nail in your description of Cora's nature - a hint of the complexity that she is.

@TheSkyMan: Welcome! I hear you about trying to read already established stories - it's something I reserve for "empty" days, which unfortunately are currently few and far between. Sorry that I had to make you look things up - I wanted to create a medieval feel for this story, and went searching for terms I could use instead of "castle" and "keep." I preferred to use "crofter" in place of "serf" as I see the relationship of this Lord and Lady with their land being more of a lord-tenant relationship rather than a master-slave setup. As for "thistlemen," that was something I changed (after I initially posted the first chapter - sorry McB and Rosa!) - in reviewing what I had written so far, I found that I had started using the term in place of "guards" or "men-at-arms." I liked the sound of "thistlemen" considering that the emblem of Cardonaccum is the humble thistle. Thanks for your words of praise - I hope you continue to read and enjoy this story!

@KC: I'm glad you're not the only one that enjoyed the interaction with the kitty. Cinnie is one of those characters that insist on her share of the text. It seems I cannot write one single novel without some animal butting in and taking over the keyboard. And yes, you're right - the military history books Lady Cora's been studying are invaluable to her. We'll see just how right your guess is about the timing of this story.

In the first chapter we met Lady Cora, the wife of a Lord who has gone off to battle with Colovians. Now in this chapter we learn a little more of her background and nature. I want to take a moment right now and send out a shout to two people who helped me begin this story two years ago. Destri Melarg and his Interregnum for getting me interested in the Lore, and Olen for his help in world building for this story. I hope they are finding the time to read this story too!

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Chapter Two

“That’s that for the salt,” Jannet declared, closing the door on the cellar room. “It should be enough for everyone through the winter months.”

I checked another item from the list. “That’s good, because we may not get more until the spring.”

“Aye, that’s true enough, milady,” Jannet nodded emphatically as we made our way through the storerooms. “Though we are short on salted beef and mutton.”

“If Robert can convince the remaining crofters to come here with their livestock,” I mused thoughtfully, “that might solve that problem.”

Jannet slid me a sidelong look. “As long as we don’t kill off all their kine,” she reminded me. “They need those animals for their income.”

I agreed silently. Jannet regarded me a moment more, then turned into the last storeroom, where we kept the wine. There we encountered Niall, the steward. He bowed to me and greeted Jannet with a wordless nod.

“How do you find the wine stores, Niall?” I looked around at the wine casks.

“One of them,” he pointed at an oaken barrel upended over the drain in the floor, “went bad. The rest are fine.”

I could smell the sharp odor of vinegar, mixed with the sickly scent of mold. “I see. No point in using that one for pickling vegetables.”

Niall shook his head. “Not unless you want to poison everyone.”

I snapped my fingers. “Could have made some to send up as a gift to that Colovian general!” Niall’s lips twitched and he looked away. I sighed at yet another failure to make him laugh or even crack his imperturbable exterior. “Thank you very much, Niall.” A glance at the ledger showed that we were finished. I closed the volume and handed it to Jannet. “Thank you too, Jannet.” She bobbed quickly as I turned for the stairs leading out to the courtyard of the donjon.

Older than Wallace, Jannet had been his first wife’s maid, and her mother’s maid before that. She was intimately familiar with Wallace’s holding, with every nook and cranny of the old donjon. She had frightened me ten years ago, when I first came to Cardonaccum as a nervous bride of eighteen. Her wrinkled, worn face, those canny eyes that missed little, and her curt manner did little to set me at ease. I had refused her aid as lady’s maid, fearful of being compared to her previous charge, the Lady Elspeth. Described as tall, willowy and beautiful with a fall of golden hair that shimmered at night and by day, Wallace’s first wife was the total opposite of me. How could Jannet find anything to approve of in me?

“Milady,” Jannet bustled up to me as I was sipping my breakfast tea. “How do you want dinner prepared?”

I looked up at her blankly. “Dinner?” I had just eaten breakfast! “Wh- whatever y- you have in st- stock,” my stammer chose that moment to re-emerge. I hid my shame behind the clay goblet.

Jannet crossed her arms over her ample breasts and gazed at me with a forbidding cast to her gnarled features. “You are the Lady,” her tone turned strict. “It is your duty to assign tasks to your cook, steward and housekeeper here.”

“Y- you have been d- doing th- this for m- much longer th- than I,” I began, but Jannet plucked the goblet out of my hand and set it down firmly on the table.

“Milady, come with me.” It was an implicit command. Meekly I rose from the table and moved to follow her. Jannet led me outside, through the courtyard, and down into the cellar. She paused only long enough to pluck a burning torch from the wall beside the wooden door that gaped open on this warm summer day.

As we entered the warren that formed the storerooms of Cardonaccum, Jannet fished out the heavy ring of keys and handed them to me. “As Lord Wallace’s wife, you are expected to know what stores we have put away, how much of each and how to obtain more,” she began speaking in that highland burr I found incomprehensible at times. Over the next two hours she took me through each underground chamber, pointing out every barrel, sack, and container, explaining their uses, their origins, and how quickly we could expect to consume them. She made me repeat the information after her room by room.

Then she led me up to the kitchen, where she called to the stout woman elbow deep in dough. “Machara! Milady has instructions for you.”

The cook, nearly as wide as she was tall, turned to face me. I could see the Nordic features in her flushed face as she blew a stray lock of faded blond hair from her face.

“What is it?” Machara’s pale blue eyes flickered over me with something approaching contempt.

I glanced nervously at Jannet, who said nothing. Somehow I found the courage to rise to my station. “Mi- milord would like a c- cold salad and gr- grilled beef t- tonight.”

“And how would milord like the salad dressed and the beef seasoned?” Machara demanded. My mind blanked. The cook huffed and pushed that stray lock impatiently back with a flour-coated hand. “Why milord married such a useless s’wit -“

“Machara!” Jannet’s voice cracked across the kitchen, bringing silence in its swift wake. I wanted to dissolve through the floor when I became aware of several pairs of eyes focused on the three of us. “This is milady you are speaking to! Give her the courtesy due her station!”

“Very well,” Machara bobbed resentfully. “Milady.”

Jannet turned to look at me. When I glanced at her in trepidation, she nodded curtly. Somehow her look conveyed the confidence she had shown me in front of all these people. I took a deep breath and turned back to Machara, reminding myself of the trick Maester Oricharo had taught me for my stuttering. “Milord likes the way you prepare the cold salad with lemon zest and white vinegar, Machara,” I spoke each syllable carefully. “Please be sure to include the goat’s cheese - I understand we just received a fresh supply of it. And I would like to try the beef with your rosemary and black pepper rub.”

Machara’s brows, pale in her red face, rose nearly into her hairline. “Very well, milady,” she said finally, her tone and expression much less resentful. “It shall be so.”

Jannet turned to lead me out of the kitchen, but I hesitated. “Thank you, Machara.” I said finally. Now genuine surprise flickered across the cook’s face, and the scowl lightened into something resembling a smile.

“Thank me when you’ve eaten dinner, milady!”

Out in the corridor leading from the kitchen toward the main hall, Jannet stopped and faced me. “People around here will compare you to Lady Elspeth,” she said quietly, her eyes on the wall just past my shoulder. “Don’t let it bother you. Lord Wallace married you, Lady Cora, not some replacement for Lady Elspeth. Don’t forget that.”

Since that moment, I hadn’t doubted Jannet’s confidence in me.

I paused in the courtyard, glancing up at the grey sky overhead. The storm had passed during the night, and the morning dawned cold and muddy. I had breakfasted with Edine, Sir Laird’s wife, and Larena, Sir Rodric’s lady. They had moved into the donjon the day their men departed with Wallace. Their manors were unprotected, and the men felt the ladies would be more secure here. In some ways I was grateful for their company, for it helped me to keep my mind from the dangers Wallace and the others rode into. But already I missed Wallace’s companionship, our discussions of the holding’s affairs and of the lands beyond Cardonaccum.

I moved to the center of the courtyard before the great gate towers that led out of the bailey. I looked up at the parapets around the high walls. Sentries stood quietly or patrolled with slow steps along the battlements, ever gazing outwards. It was here, just a couple of days ago, that I said farewell to Wallace.

They brought up his big black destrier. The stallion jibbed at the bit and pawed impatiently at the cobblestones until sparks flew from his iron shoes. Wallace rubbed the horse’s arched neck fondly. Nightshade calmed down, peering at me through the long fall of his wavy forelock. I leaned forward and whispered a charm of safekeeping into his fluttering nostrils.

Wallace turned to me, the dark forest green of his cloak swirling in the late autumn sun. “Milady,” he spoke formally in front of his gathered men, “give me your blessing too.”

His iron helm tucked beneath my arm, I reached up with my free hand and cupped his cheek. He bent down as I stood on bare tippy toes to kiss him full on his lips. “It is as Arkay wills it,” I whispered against his neatly trimmed beard as his men cheered and banged their shields.

“Let it be so,” he matched my tone, his arms tightening around my body until my toes barely brushed the cobblestones. “And remember, you must be both Lord and Lady while I am gone. Do not forget the lessons you have learned.”

I fought down the shiver of foreboding and looked into his cloud-colored eyes. “No, Wallace, I won’t forget. Not as long as I shall live.”

“Promise me, Cora,” his voice became gruff. I caught my breath, a flicker of unease causing my hand to tremble on his cheek. “Promise me you’ll always look after the good folk of Cardonaccum as I have these past many years.”

“I - “ I had to stop to draw a deep breath. “I promise. As Arkay is my witness.” Satisfied, Wallace lowered his hands to my hips, setting me back down.

“Thank you, milady Cora,” Wallace smiled. His eyes held none of that sadness I had sworn to dispel. Instead, it was I who felt sad, I who felt like grieving. I kept my head high, my eyes on his, reluctant to be the one to look away first.

Wallace turned to Nightshade and swung easily up into the saddle. I stepped to the horse’s side and passed his helm up to him. Wallace set it upon his head, giving me one last look. Then his squire handed him Cirsium, the shield with the Red Thistle emblazoned upon it, and followed with the great sword Thistlethorn that had been passed down for five generations. Wallace gathered up the reins and kneed Nightshade into a tight pirouette.

I remained rooted to the spot as Nightshade pranced out through the bailey gate, the knights and men-at-arms falling in behind. Edine and Larena stood beside me as the last of the men filed out, and the castle thistleman closed the great gates upon their flashing spears. Something twisted in my heart as the huge bolt dropped home. I broke my stance and ran for the narrow stair leading up to the gate towers. I wanted to keep Wallace in my vision for as long as I could.

There he was, at the head of the column. Nightshade, a patch of midnight on this grey morning, set a fast pace for the foot soldiers following behind the knights. On his back Wallace sat as if part of the stallion, tall and straight-backed.

I shook myself as the vision of Wallace’s departure faded away. I had known then, and I remained convinced, that that would be the last time I saw him alive. I had kept it to myself, reluctant to share it with anyone. Perhaps if I kept silent on that foreboding, it wouldn’t come true.

I hoped.

[Acadian]

How wonderful to review some of Lady Cora’s rocky beginnings when thrust into her position as lady of the castle. I’m so pleased that Jannet decided to take the young lady under her experienced hand and help uplift Cora into her newfound position. This scene was quiet, but a complete delight to read. More specifically, I really enjoy that you take the time to linger over the subtleties of developing Cora as a character whose hopes, dreams and frailties we can identify with.

Then a review of Lord Wallace’s departure. Fabulous atmosphere of medieval gallantry you created here. I am concerned at Cora’s foreboding conviction that her lord will not return. I suspect she is right but will join Cora in hoping against it.

[SubRosa]

I see Cora's first days as the lady of the house were not easy ones. No surprise for a 18 year old who was doubtlessly sheltered. all of her life.

I keep trying to place Cardonaccum. Since Wallace (first name William by any chance?) is off fighting the Colovians, it cannot be in the west of Cyrodiil. Given the highland burr, and the strong thistle motif, I can only guess somewhere around Bruma. Or maybe it is somewhere closer to Alba?

The cook, nearly as wide as she was tall, turned to face me.
An overweight cook is a good sign. It means they make good food. Now a skinny cook, that is something to be worried about!

Lord Wallace seemed perhaps more doomful than a lord going to war might be. He does not seem to expect to return. No wonder Cora has such a foreboding feeling.

[King Coin]

“Not unless you want to poison everyone.”
That would solve the food shortage… Lol.

The age difference really hit me in this chapter. 18 to his 50. Wow. And as SubRosa highlighted, she came in after a previous wife. That would be intimidating.

I too keep trying to imagine where Cardonaccum is.

Jannet was exactly what she needed to get into her role. I wonder how Wallace enjoyed his meal.

The departure was moving. A true good-bye.

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

@TheSkyMan: ... Sorry that I had to make you look things up - ...

No need to apologize or explain. As I said, learning is always a good thing. I inferred that the Thistlemen were castle guards...glad I had it right. On to this installment...

I snapped my fingers. “Could have made some to send up as a gift to that Colovian general!” Niall’s lips twitched and he looked away. I sighed at yet another failure to make him laugh or even crack his imperturbable exterior. -- This was a neat insight into Niall's personality. Nicely done.

I really liked the look back to Cora's early days at Cardonaccum. Her insecurity at that time, puncuated by her stammer, was very easy to visualize. Then seeing how her relationship with Jannet had begun. Then lastly, the flashback in the courtyard to Wallace's departure. Very emotional scene indeed. Great write!

[haute ecole rider]

@Acadian: Thanks for your affirmation of my attempt to develop Cora's character while diving right into the story. I like writing stories this way - get right to the action and let my characters' reactions and responses describe their personalities and histories to us the readers. Yes, I wanted to create the sense of dread Cora is struggling with in her Lord's absence.

@SubRosa: I wouldn't say Cora has been sheltered all her life - let's just say that her early experiences have not been delightful. Honestly, this marriage scared her when she first came to Cardonaccum, but turned out to be so different from what she expected. We will find out later in the story more about her early upbringing. I do think you need to think about the time frame first before you can place Cardonaccum. Not to worry, we will learn later in the story where it is really located.

@KC: I think it goes without saying that Lord Wallace enjoyed his meal! I'm sure Acadian did! Jannet is a special lady, and I'm glad that came across.

@TheSkyMan: I've always seen Niall as the epitome of the English Butler - stiff upper lip, dry sense of humor that is never revealed, and exacting service without servitude.

The story so far: We get a sense of Cora's beginnings at Cardonaccum and the dread she feels about her husband's fate as he heads off to face the Colovians. Now we begin to see the aftermath of that confrontation.

Chapter Three

Mist rose from the valley floor and piled up around the base of the castle wall. I stood next to Robert, looking out over the holding. Silence enfolded us in mutual worry as we gazed along the road that led south from Cardonaccum. Our breaths merged with the wispy fog that began to swirl around the tops of the gate towers.

“They should be sending messengers soon,” Robert’s gruff voice sounded muted in the gloomy afternoon light. I nodded silently. And the wounded, too. If Robert thought the same, he kept it to himself. Yet I knew he was too experienced a soldier to not consider the things Wallace had warned me about.

Moisture collected on my bare cheeks. It’s drizzling. I drew the hood of my thick cloak up over my hair and tucked my hands into the long sleeves of my overdress to keep them warm. The afternoon light grew perceptibly darker with the lowering overcast.

“It’ll rain again soon,” Robert turned to me. “Milady, you should go inside by the fire. The men will keep watch here. I’ll make sure they send word to you as soon as they see something.”

I touched his mailed arm. “Come in, too, Robert. At least eat something hot.”

He gave a final glance outward before nodding his acquiescence. Gallantly he gave me his arm as we headed for the stair leading down, now slick from the drizzle. We soon reached the courtyard and started toward the donjon.

Robert stopped in the center of the open space. I turned to look up into his shadowed face. His heavy mustache hid the expression of his lips, and I couldn’t see more than a glimmer of his eyes in the gloom. “What is it, Robert?”

“Milady, you know I’ve never spoken of your - “ his voice trailed off. I waited, wondering at his pensiveness. “They say you’re a Witch, that you can foresee one’s fate.” Again he stopped.

“I’m not sure that I’m truly a Witch,” I answered softly. “I know little of magic spells and such. Potions and poisons are more my expertise, as you well know.” I shook my head. “Though I will not deny that my father was one of the Witchmen. Yet I have not even a glimmer of his gift. Foretelling futures? Nay, that I can not do.”

Robert turned his gaze to the high stone wall of the donjon before us. “Then you canna ken the outcome of this battle?”

I sighed, feeling again the foreboding that had rested heavy in my belly since Wallace’s departure. “No, Robert, I can’t. But that’s not to say I don’t have a bad feeling about this -“ I stopped myself, unwilling to share more of my unease with him. However much I trusted Robert, and Jannet, I could not burden them with my dread. What if it means nothing? I would have worried them for naught.

“Aye, that I have, too,” Robert muttered, turning his gaze back to me. “I fear for milord and the others. But most of all, I fear for you and the good people of Cardonaccum. If milord falls -“

“I promised milord I would look after his folk,” I stopped Robert with a gesture. “If it comes to it -“ my voice wavered, and I swallowed. “If it comes to it, may I count on you to stand beside me and help me keep that promise?”

“I swear by Shor that I shall stand beside you and support you to the end!” Robert’s vehement whisper caused my shoulders to straighten involuntarily. I squeezed his wrist in gratitude.

We walked slowly up the wide steps leading into the donjon. Behind us a shout echoed across the bailey. “Stay here, milady,” Robert started back down to the courtyard. The wailing note of a war horn reached us. The big castellan broke into a run, his cloak shedding droplets with his rapid pace.

“It’s milord!” One of the thistlemen shouted down from the gate towers. “He’s hurt, from the looks of it!”

My heart leaped into my throat and stayed there as Robert shouted for the thistlemen to unbolt the gates. Golden light surged across the stairs and into the courtyard from behind me as the donjon doors were flung open. Niall stopped next to me. “Is it -?”

“Get the priest,” I said to him. “And f- fetch bandages and potions!”

“Yes, milady!” Niall disappeared back into the donjon as crofters, servants and ladies crowded behind me.

Thistlemen ran to the gates as they swung ponderously open, creaking in the damp twilight. Now I could hear hoofbeats thundering across the moat bridge outside the castle. My feet ached to run toward that tall portal, but I forced myself to wait.

Four dark figures on horses surged through the gateway to the center of the courtyard. The animals slithered and slid on the stones, fighting to stay upright beneath their burdens. None of them were Nightshade. I took a step forward to the edge of the top step when I saw that two of the horses carried double. Thistlemen swarmed around the jittery horses, trying to steady them long enough for the riders to hand down their burdens. I recognized Sir Laird’s big grey. He held someone in his arms across his saddle. So did Sir Broc on his red chestnut with the blaze. The younger knight looked up at me as he handed his burden down to the thistlemen’s waiting arms.

“My husband!” Larena exclaimed as Laird nearly dropped the broken form into the thistlemen’s hands. She ran forward as they bore Sir Rodric’s bloodied body to the stairs. Laird dismounted from his horse and staggered, exhaustion in every line of his form.

“Bring them inside, quick!” I waved for the men to carry their burdens into the keep’s main hall. I stood aside to let them pass, my gaze moving back toward the gates where more riders galloped through. Nightshade wasn’t among them, either.

I looked down just as they carried Broc’s wounded past. My breath disappeared into the night as my gaze fell on Wallace’s bloodied face. The flesh had been torn from the left side of his head, leaving bone gaping through the red mess. His face was nearly as white as his skull, and his eyes were closed.

Somehow I found the strength to follow the thistlemen bearing my husband’s inert form into the hall. Sir Rodric struggled against the pain of his broken limbs as they bore him to one side of the hearth. Larena fell to her knees beside her husband, sobbing. I turned my gaze from them to Wallace as they laid him onto the adjacent cot.

“Milord!” I leaned down to him as the thistlemen drew back. He did not respond. I felt tears burn the backs of my eyes as I gazed onto that weathered face and felt the deathly stillness in his body. All the warmth in the world fled from me and I dropped to my knees beside him.

No, it’s just a nightmare. One of my nightmares. He’ll put his arms around me and tell me it’s just a nightmare. Arkay, Kyne, please let it be just a nightmare! I laid my cheek against his blood-stained surcoat, over that great heart of his. I heard only Larena’s weeping. I closed my eyes. Please Arkay, don’t take my husband. Please! I haven’t given him a child yet! You can’t take him away from me! Please! It’s just a nightmare. Wallace will wake me up with his arms around me. Please!

His arms did not enfold me in the embrace I so desperately prayed for. His body did not move beneath me, his chest did not rise. Those sad, expressive eyes remained closed.

“I’m sorry, milady,” Broc’s voice reached me. A hand touched my right shoulder, lingered just a little too long. “He saved Sir Rodric’s life, but died in the melee.”

“You’re the reason he’s dead, fetcher!” Rodric shouted as I shook off Broc’s hand. I rose to my feet and turned toward Rodric. “He saved my life, true, then he saved yours! But damned fool you, you let him be struck down by Colovian blades!” Laird clamped his hand on Rodric’s good shoulder and pressed him back down on the cot. Larena pleaded with her husband to lie quietly.

I did not look at Broc, only turned back to Wallace. My blurred vision saw his empty hands, the fingers on the right flayed to the bone. The left forearm bent at an unnatural angle. Dark viscera protruded through a rent in the left side of his mail coat.

“Sir Rodric is not himself,” Broc stepped to my side and took my elbow. “It was so chaotic, so confusing, he must be mistaken -“ Reflexively I struck his shoulder, knocking him back.

“Where is milord’s sword? His shield? And his horse?” I drew myself up to my fullest height and faced Broc. “If you were with him when he was killed, why did you not take his gear?”

He bowed his head in overt grief. “When milord fell, all I could think of was to get him to safety. He still lived when we left the battlefield -“

“So you left Cirsium, Thistlethorn and Nightshade behind for the Colovians to take?” I cut him off, anger replacing grief.

“Nightshade was cut down when milord came to Sir Rodric’s aid!” Broc protested, his hands lifting to my shoulders. I stepped back until my thighs met the edge of the cot, now my husband’s bier. “And I couldn’t fetch his weapons and hope to save milord!”

“That’s enough!” Robert’s stentorian voice cut through the whispers around us as he stepped to my side. He glanced briefly at Wallace, then turned to me, blue eyes dark. “What will ye have me do, milady?”

Shouting stopped my answer. Everyone glanced toward the front of the hall, where the doors still stood open to the courtyard. Thistlemen darted outside, spears and halberds lowered. Sir Laird and Robert pushed their way through the crofters after the men. They stopped in the doorway, and I saw Robert’s face turn back toward me. Then the two men drew their swords and stepped out. Angry shouting reached me, though I couldn’t make out the words. But some of the voices were new to me.

Let Robert and Sir Laird take care of them. I turned back to Wallace and touched his cold face, the tears warm on my own.

“Lady Cora ap Askey!” The unfamiliar voice shouting my full name brought my head around. Who dares call me by my father’s name? “Lady Cora ap Askey! I have something that belongs to you!” More shouting drowned him out, but not before I identified the accent as foreign.

I walked to the open doorway as the clouds broke open and released a downpour. In the courtyard, three men astride dark bays clustered around a white horse and a black destrier. The dark one tossed his head high, eyes showing white, and pealed defiance to the skies. The castle thistlemen ringed the group, spears and halberds leveled. But the strangers’ own swords remained sheathed at their sides. The fourth man, unmounted and with his back to Nightshade, for it was Nightshade standing there pawing furiously at the cobblestones, looked up from beneath his hood as I stepped out into the rain.

“Take them!” Sir Laird shouted. I glanced at the thistlemen, and caught Robert’s eye. He tipped his head toward the strangers, and I shook mine. No. Let them speak their piece.

“Put up your blades!” Robert’s voice drowned out Sir Laird’s shouted commands. “Milady commands it!”

The one who met my gaze held Nightshade’s reins effortlessly. The stallion, known for his viciousness toward enemies, did nothing more than stamp sparks from the granite paving. The cloaked, hooded man gazed at me for another moment more, then stepped forward, the wild-eyed destrier following him.

Laird spun toward me, but my gaze remained locked on the cloaked, hooded stranger leading my husband’s stallion to the steps. He stopped on the first step, and I could see that he carried something beneath his cloak.

“Lady Cora?” His voice was quieter now, barely audible above the downpour that soaked all of Nirn. Silently I nodded. He bowed low, then straightened up with a flourish that swept the hood back over his shoulders.

Again my breath fled at the face that looked back at me. The face I had seen before - the man of my nightmares.

[Acadian]

We learn that Cora carries blood of the Western Reach! And that she has earned the loyalty of the steady Robert for what will, no doubt, be unsteady times ahead.

So Milady’s sense of pending doom proved fully founded as, sadly, Wallace did not survive the battle. Bickering among the wounded knights over what transpired sheds ominous doubts and hints of possible treachery. This is reinforced by Cora’s observation that Broc’s hand ‘lingered just a little too long’.

Nightshade did return however, with a magnificent display of sparks! Yet the stallion only serves to introduce more intrigue. For the horse does not perceive the hooded stranger as a foe, yet the man’s hood falls back to reveal a face from Cora’s nightmares.

The everpresent rain in this scene really contributed to the sense of gloom and mystery.

Edit: I just read SubRosa's comment below and now I am thinking that the face from Cora's nightmares is not the stuff of being eaten alive or such, but perhaps the face of a messenger of death relating to the loss of Wallace. The bearer of bad news, but not a foe perhaps.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jul 15 2013, 09:07 PM

[ghastley]

Just found this one, and I find myself going down the same roads as King Coin and ThatSkyrimGuy in looking up your terminology and trying to place the action on the map.

Can I expect coursers, rounceys and palfreys to make an appearance soon?

I'm also enjoying matching up the scottish and welsh characters to their Tamriel counterparts, and wondering which history is playing out here.

[SubRosa]

So Cora's a Witchwoman of the Western Reach? Now that is interesting.

“Then you canna ken the outcome of this battle?”
That settles it, they are definitely in Scotland!

Well, that went as I expected it would. At least they were able to bring home Wallace's body. That's not always possible after a defeat.

A very good display of Cora's emotions as she is forced to face the fact of her husband's death.

And a mysterious stranger appears with Lord Wallace's horse, and I suspect his sword and shield. Perhaps Cora is more a Witch than she lets on, since she has seen him before. Granted, that she saw him in a nightmare is not a good sign...

I found a vid of Wallace and Nightshade

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 15 2013, 09:03 PM

[Grits]

I love your way of starting the story and letting details about the characters emerge in a natural way. I find myself full of questions and eager to keep reading for the answers.

Ooo, this last section was heartbreaking and exciting! What an entrance for the cloaked, hooded stranger.

I’m looking forward to more!

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Another great installment. I agree with Acadian whole heartedly about your use of the weather to enhance the gloom and doom that this chapter brings. I'm not lore-wise enough to discern how SubRosa and Acadian deduced Cora is from the Western Reach, but I'll take their word for it. I had a feeling that Cora's sense of foreboding would be realized, but it is still a shame that Wallace now lays broken and dead on a cot. I am looking forward to finding out if Broc was indeed treacherous and who this visitor from nightmares might be...

[haute ecole rider]

@Acadian: As always, I enjoyed your summation of the elements that resonated with you. This tells me that I am hitting the right notes in my writing. The stranger from Cora's nightmares will reveal his identity in today's segment, so keep reading!

@ghastley: I haven't heard the term rounceys! And I thought I knew them all! No coursers here unfortunately. Most of what Cardonaccum breeds are chargers and palfreys (and we will see one or two of those later, I promise!). I'm glad that you are intrigued enough to try and locate Cardonaccum on a Tamriel map. Keep reading, more clues to come! One or two very large clues in today's post will prove to be helpful in your quest, I think. To be honest, I'm not using Scottish and Welsh history here, though there is a very strong flavor of those two cultures running throughout this tale. I admit that I've always found those two countries very fascinating. Someday . . .

@SageRose: Cora is not quite a Witchwoman, as we will soon see. But I'm glad that tidbit spurred your interest. I've been wanting to write a Witch character for some time, and when Cora first introduced herself to me, that's when I knew the time was now. Thanks for the linky to the vid! Goliath is actually the model for Nightshade - I kept seeing him as I was writing the stallion's passages. Friesian horses are so like Morgans that they are easy for me to write. I have actually met a Friesian stud who was as gentle as he was impressive. They're not that big, but their stance makes them seem bigger! As for Rutger Hauer, he is not quite how I picture Wallace, but he certainly has the heroic look down pat. I would be content to let him play Wallace! But I think he is better suited to play the man from Cora's nightmares. Gary Cooper, if he were still alive, would be better as Wallace!

@Grits: I'm glad you are enjoying this story. I love introducing my characters slowly, over time, just as we learn about each other in real life. Keep reading - I think it only gets better!

ThatSkyrimGuy: I'm glad to see you're still reading! Your fiction is actually on my list of must-read - I just haven't found the time to sit down and read through it yet. I did read enough to know it is Skyrim-based. Since I don't have Skyrim, it will be interesting to see how much I can follow without having played the game. Yes, the weather is proving to be as much a character in this story as the animals and the people! There is a lot of information in the Lore section on the UESP wiki, which is my major source of research. The in-game books in Oblivion were my starting point, and I am delighted that they are duplicated in full here. There are more to be found at the Imperial Library. I should warn you, though, they are vortexes that will suck you into the black hole of lost time!

The story so far: Wallace's body has been returned to Cardonaccum, along with injured soldiers and knights. But Cora does not have time to grieve, as the man from her nightmares show up with Nightshade in tow . . .

*******************
Chapter Four

Lightning crackled above us and threw his face into stark relief. Dark hair, cropped short, and a close-trimmed dark beard framed a square-jawed visage that bespoke strength, cunning and intelligence. The neat mustache only emphasized the hard lines of his mouth and the cold cast to his eyes. The dark cloak cascaded from broad shoulders and hid his shape.

“Lady Cora?” he asked again, resuming his approach up the stairs. Nightshade tossed his head in protest, then followed the man with much blowing and snorting.

Robert shouted an order, and six of the castle thistlemen left the ring and ran to surround me.

“Easy,”I reached out to the one nearest me and pressed his spear upwards. Robert reached my side just as I stepped clear of the thistlemen. With his protective bulk at my right, I felt more confident facing this apparition from my nightmares. “I am she,” I said to the Colovian soldier.

He stopped two steps below me, his eyes level with mine. “I am General Talos, commander of King Cuhlecain’s Colovian forces.” As the stallion sidled around him, he stretched his right hand and held the reins to me. “I believe this horse belonged to your husband, and therefore to you.”

I took the straps. Once Talos released them, Nightshade calmed down and side-stepped to stand beside me, opposite Robert. He blew softly against my shoulder then became as still as a statue.

Talos’s gaze flickered over the suddenly docile warhorse, and his lips twitched in the briefest and faintest of smiles. I was glad of the sheltering bulks of Nightshade and Robert when his eyes returned to mine. “And I came to return these.” He threw his cloak back over his left shoulder in another flourish.

Again I had to deflect threatening spear blades when I recognized the red thistle of Cirsium. Talos held it out to me, tilted so I could take it by its edge. His gauntleted right hand disappeared behind the shield, then reappeared with Thistlethorn, held by its blade and hilt extended to me.

I nodded to Robert, who took the shield. My hands shook as I reached for the heavy greatsword, but I managed to grip it without dropping it to the stone steps. The massive ruby mounted in the pommel gleamed blackly in the storm light. Lightly I touched the blooming thistle inlaid in silver on the forte of its steel blade. Denying release to my tears, I shifted my gaze back to Talos.

“Not that I am ungrateful, General,” I used Maester Oricharo’s trick to quell the stammer that threatened to surface. “But why did you not keep these for yourself?”

His brows raised at my question. “Lord Wallace fought bravely,” he said. “Single-handedly he and his horse kept off a full century until they were decimated. He was defeated only through bad luck,” he nodded at Nightshade. “The horse slipped in the mud and fell. Once Lord Wallace was unhorsed, my men were able to overwhelm him. Yet he fought on and refused surrender.” He inclined his head, the motion conveying the respect of one warrior for another. “For me to keep his horse and gear as trophies would be disrespectful of his sacrifice for his men and for his people.”

“My father and brother were among those you slaughtered at Sancre Tor last winter,” I made my tone hard. “What makes you think I won’t take these emblems of my husband’s authority and use them against you?”

Talos didn’t flinch. “I would expect no less from one such as you, Lady Cora,” he showed me the hilt of his own sword, resting at his side. “That is why I am here with a proposal. I hope you will take the time to hear me out.”

I felt my brows rise at his words as Wallace’s men shifted their feet. “A proposal?” I lifted Thistlethorn between us, its blade pointed downward between my hands. “My husband lies mere hours dead by your blades, and you come to me with a proposal? What makes you so confident that I’ll listen instead of having you struck down right here on these steps!”

Talos held my gaze steadily. “I’ve heard about you, Lady Cora ap Askey. You would be a formidable foe, and after your husband’s exacting toll, I’ve no more energy.” Again he inclined his head to me. “Please hear me out first, before you decide my fate.”

The sword slipped between my slick palms as my arms began to tremble with the effort of holding it upright. A cold trickle ran down my spine and I couldn’t suppress the involuntary shiver. I took a deep breath, then another. A shrill voice in the back of my mind screamed at me to have Robert cut this upstart general down. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to give the order, not with Talos standing right in front of me, his gaze so steady on mine. And not with my calmer inner voice, the one I always listened to, telling me to wait.

Finally I lowered Thistlethorn’s tip to the stones between my feet and cradled its hilt against my body. “We have wounded to tend to, and a lord’s funeral to carry out.” I caught the flicker in his eyes and wondered at it. “Robert.”

“Yes, milady.”

Without taking my eyes off Talos, I spoke slowly and quietly. “Take their weapons and their horses. Put these men up in the salt room. Make sure they have a fire to dry themselves, and something hot to drink.”

“Milady!” This from Laird, who stood at Robert’s other side. “Surely you wouldn’t consider -!”

“They brought Wallace’s emblems home,” I answered. “His ancestral shield, the sword of his forefathers. S- something that you,” I shot him a glare, “his own sworn knight, f- failed to do.” I lifted my chin until the rain camouflaged the tears I could no longer restrain. “For that alone, I owe the General th- this much.”

Robert shut Laird’s protests by handing him Cirsium. He stepped down to stand before Talos. “I believe you heard milady,” he said with neutral courtesy.

“Yes, I did,” Talos answered, unhooking his sheathed sword and handing it to Robert. “I shall wait until after Lord Wallace’s funeral.”

“Robert will see to your needs until then,” I picked up the sword and turned away. I did not look back as I entered the donjon. Behind me, the sounds of dismounting men, Nightshade belling as he was led to his stable, and the hoofbeats of the Colovian horses following after him trailed into the main hall.

Laird fell in beside me, matching his stride to my shorter steps. “Milady, you can’t trust that general -“

I stopped when my gaze fell on Broc, still standing next to Wallace’s still form. “There are those here I can’t trust, Sir Laird.” I turned to the aged knight. Older than Wallace, he had served Wallace’s father before swearing his allegiance to my husband so many years ago. Wallace had once said to me: “Laird is loyal to a fault. He is also hidebound and stuck in tradition going back to Aldmeri times. He’s a good man to have in a fight, but not such a good one to forge a diplomatic alliance.”

I regarded Laird’s visage somberly. He swayed a little, and I put my hand on his elbow. “You’re exhausted, sir. Please let your wife take you to her chambers, please rest. I will have need of you later, when we conduct the funeral rites for milord.” I caught Edine’s eye and waved her up.

As Edine led her husband away, Onchu, the rotund priest of Arkay, approached me. “Milady, shall we take milord’s body to the chapel?”

I glanced at the fire, at Rodric with Larena still sobbing beside him. “I have to take care of Sir Rodric first.” I met Onchu’s eyes. “But yes, take milord’s body there. I will join you there when Sir Rodric is tended.”

“Very well, milady,” Onchu bowed. He turned away as I made my way toward the wounded knight. Before I reached his side, Broc stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“Milady, tend to my wounds,” he said plaintively. “I would tell you how your husband died.”

“I know how he died,” I shook him off and stepped away. He followed me, staying too close to me for my peace. A glance around at the castle inhabitants revealed a pretty red-haired girl watching us. I waved her up. “Morna can ease your injuries. Go with her.”

Broc regarded me for a moment more, his jaw working with frustration. Then he rounded on the servant girl and brusquely gestured her to lead him. She bobbed a curtsy to me before moving away, the lean knight on her heels.

Will Morna realize her wish? I knew how she had dreamed of snagging her own knight, as she imagined I had done ten years ago. Little does she know that I had no say in that matter. Will it work out as well for her as it did for me? I didn’t like Broc’s familiarity with me, his overt advances that implied disloyalty to my husband.

Finally I reached Rodric’s side. Larena still wept beside him. He lay back, his face white beneath the blood splatter. His right arm and left leg lay at painful angles. Jannet was already at work, cutting away his armor. I set Thistlethorn against the side of the fireplace and leaned down to my husband’s most loyal knight. “Sir Rodric?”

He opened his eyes and blinked momentarily. When recognition flickered through his gaze, he drew breath to speak. I shook my head. “Be quiet. Let me examine you first.” I laid my left hand on his forehead. “Close your eyes, Sir Rodric.”

At first the pain I felt through that light touch was overwhelming. But soon I could determine the sources of the worst injuries. Broken right arm, left leg just as I suspected. Broken ribs on the right side. Torn ligaments in the right knee. He won’t be able to stand for days, if not weeks. And a sore head. No wonder he’s so dizzy, too. I broke the contact and looked across him at Larena, who watched me with bated breath.

“He will live,” I assured her softly. “Maybe a permanent limp, but he’ll walk again. It’s his head I’m most worried about. He’s dizzy, and that can get worse, or it may get better. We’ll have to see. I’ll have Siné take care of his injuries.” I turned to Jannet and began murmuring to her. She listened intently, then nodded and departed to carry out my instructions.

I moved to rise, but Rodric laid his good hand on my wrist. “Milady,” his weak tone pleaded, “will I be able to fight again?”

I took his hand in both of mine. “I don’t think so,” I said quietly. “Best to think about sending your Torquil to take your place in the vanguard.”

“But he’s only thirteen!” Larena protested, her voice cracking. “So young!”

“I was younger than he when I first took up the sword for Wallace!” Rodric growled at his wife. She relapsed into sobbing. He met my gaze. “It will be done.”

“Larena has a point,” I responded. “I think it will be best if he were to train with Robert for a year or two first. We’ll see how he comes along. Until then, we’ll muck along as best as we can.” I squeezed his hand. “For now, you need to think about recovering your strength.”

Jannet returned with two maids in tow, their arms laden with splinting materials, bandages and potions. The older woman put them to work cleaning Rodric’s wounds. I rose to my feet and stepped back to give them room. “Jannet, I will be in the chapel if anyone needs me.” I turned away.

Jannet followed me into the corridor that led back to the chapel. “Milady, do you require help?” Her wide gaze on me was uncharacteristically expressive, reflecting the grief I felt.

“No, I will do this alone,” I answered. Jannet glanced around to make sure we were alone, then wrapped her arms tightly around me. I gave in to the sorrow and leaned gratefully into her embrace. She patted my back gently as I wept into her shoulder.

Footsteps reached us, and I stepped back. Jannet’s arms fell to her sides, but she kept her gaze on me. “Thank you, Jannet,” I murmured as Machara appeared, a covered tray in her hands. “Please look after Sir Rodric for me. For milord.”

“Of course,” she nodded curtly, then turned on her heel and moved away. Machara stopped before me.

“Milady, I am so sorry,” she began, then stopped on a sob. I looked up at the big Nord. “Tell me how you want the funeral feast prepared?”

“I will let you know when I decide,” I answered. My gaze fell on the tray.

“Hot bergamot tea for the prisoners,” Machara lifted the platter slightly. “And haggis. We’ll see if they have the stomach for real food!”

I smiled through my tears at her vehemence. “Be sure they have no reason to complain, then!” I stepped aside. “Robert can see to it if you bring it to him.”

She bobbed a knee, then marched on down the hall. I leaned against the wall for a moment, fighting for breath against the sobs that threatened to overwhelm me. After a few moments, I found the courage to continue to the chapel.

[SubRosa]

I know you remarked upon it already, but I really do like how you have entitled the men-at-arms as thistlemen. That unique title not only sets them aside from generic 'guards', but also ties them most securely to the specific setting of Cardonaccum. It gives both them and the setting more life.

The stranger is Talos!?! Oh goodness.

Somehow I do not think Talos has come alone to Cardonaccum - the very stronghold of his enemy - just out of chivarly. Ahh, there is a proposal. I expect he wants to mend fences now that the battle is over and bring Cora and her people over to his side, just as Ieyasu Tokagawa joined Oda Nobunaga after Nobunaga defeated him. While the desire for vengeance is doubtlessly going to be strong, I also expect that Cora will weigh that against her responsibility to protect her people. Killing Talos would only insure their destruction. While joining with him would keep them safe. Of course she will need a way to make that happen with honor, to protect the name of Wallace's family. In fact this entire episode resonates with Cora's duty and responsibilities as leader of Cardonaccum, which she must constantly place before her own needs and desires.

Little does she know that I had no say in that matter.
I liked this nod to the reality of arranged marriages among nobility. Let alone to the lack of choice women of all stations often had in the matter.

And haggis.
So she is going to torture them after all!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 21 2013, 09:15 PM

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Cora certainly showed true strength (or an outward visage of strength while she inwardly dealt with her anguish) in her handling of the encounter with General Talos, right up until she confronted Sir Laird for failing to do what Wallace's enemy had done...returning with Nightshade and her husband's ancestral gear. Her stammer snuck out then. A very powerful scene. I find myself very intrigued that Talos would give himself over to Cora and Robert to be held captive until he delivers his proposal. I can't wait to hear what that may be. And then there's Broc...I don't trust this guy as far as I could kick him.

Great write!