Catherine Archer - Fire Song

The only items that had been taken from the chests were the clothing that had already been made up for Celeste, who had finally returned to the keep many hours after the worst of the chaos had died down. She had been summoned to their father, but emerged defiant a short time later, refusing to say where she had been or why she and Meredyth had switched places. Only to Meredyth had she admitted to passing a night in an abandoned forester’s cottage. She had then indicated that her confidence that all would turn out well between Meredyth and Roland had been justified.

An amazed Meredyth had not bothered to plague her with the unpleasant truth. She ignored the throb in her chest at remembering how cool the blackguard had been as he told her that he was sending her on to Kirkland without him.

Determinedly she told herself what he thought mattered very little. What did matter was that she could now set up her own home. Use things that were hers to do with as she pleased. Meredyth much doubted St. Sebastian would remain interested in her for long. He had no real feelings for her. Mayhap he would soon ignore her to the extent that he would leave her to do as she pleased about the keep so long as she did not interfere with him directly. He was a warrior. What true interest could he have in how she ran the household?

For reasons unknown to her the thought of his ignoring her completely was not as soothing as she would have wished. She told herself not to be foolish, even as a sudden and quite unwanted memory of the feel of the man’s tongue against her breast made her flush with heat.

Blushing furiously and angry with herself for such a thought, Meredyth looked about, glad that none here could read her mind. In spite of St. Sebastian’s overconfident parting words, Meredyth had no intention of being intimate with him.

The two men Roland had left behind to escort her sat silent atop their horses where they rode just ahead. They had said barely a word to her or her maid, Jolie, throughout the long day. Neither of the young men had even bothered to mention their names, nor had Roland before he galloped away from Penacre as if he could no longer bear to be there. Of course, she told herself, attempting to be fair-minded, the steadily falling drizzle might have had some bearing on the situation.

Now that they were within the castle walls, Meredyth felt many pairs of eyes upon her. She continued to hold her head high, refusing to give in to the urge to look more closely at the gathering crowd, to see if the people resented their lord’s marriage to his enemy’s daughter as much as she feared. She could only believe they must, and her position was made doubly difficult by Roland’s very conspicuous absence.

Knowing she could change none of this, Meredyth did her utmost to concentrate on surveying her new home. The keep was a large, square, two-story structure with a square tower on each of the four corners. A crenellated walkway ran the length of the four walls. A sturdy log bridge connected the outer wall to the top of the keep. In the event of an attack where the outer wall must be abandoned men would be able to fall back to the protection of the inner keep along this route and burn it behind them so as not to give access to the enemy. She suspected that there were others like it that were not visible to her from this vantage.

Obviously Kirkland took the security of his castle very seriously. Her lips twisted in irony. It did not completely surprise her that such a disagreeable man might indeed have enough enemies to make such precautions necessary.

Not that she felt her own father was lax. But he certainly did not go to such lengths to ensure the peace at Penacre. It had not been needed.

The wagons came to a halt in the center of the courtyard, yet no one moved.

After what seemed an eternity, Meredyth took a deep breath and told herself that she must be the one to do something if no one else intended to. Squaring her shoulders for courage, she slid to the hard-packed ground.

To her relief she saw a man leave the group on the steps of the keep and move toward her. With careful dignity Meredyth waited for him to come to her.

He was a tall man, as tall as St. Sebastian himself, but not quite as broad of shoulder, and his ash-blond hair was cut short He stopped before her with a polite if somewhat stiff bow. “I take it you are my lord’s new wife, the lady Celeste. I am Sir Simon, left in charge of the keep in my lord’s absence. But I am sure he has told you that.”

Meredyth could not hold back a scowl of chagrin. Roland had told her nothing. Worse than that, this man had called her Celeste. Then she chided herself for her own unpreparedness. Of course they were expecting Celeste, not having been told otherwise. Well, she had no intention of explaining anything. She simply replied. “I am your lord’s wife, the lady Meredyth.”

Sir Simon blinked, but she rushed on before anything could be said. “My maid and I are fatigued. It has been quite a long day.”

He cleared his throat. “Ah, of a certainty. And I take it Lord Roland is to follow.”

She did not meet his perplexed and questioning gray gaze. “My lord had other matters to attend to. He is to follow in a few days.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied, though it was quite clear that he did not see.

Meredyth ignored this. She would answer no more questions. She motioned to Jolie. “Come, Sir Simon will show us the way.” She looked to him even as she began to move toward the keep. “I take it rooms have been prepared for me.”

He had no real choice but to come along as he replied, “We thought that you would be sharing Lord Roland’s…”

She stopped him then, with an emphatic shake of her head. Meredyth wanted to tell this man that she would as lief bathe in boiling tar as share a room with Roland St. Sebastian. She uttered none of that, but could not refrain from gasping, “Nay.” Immediately realizing the amazed reaction of the man before her, Meredyth willed herself! to a more moderate manner and tone as she said, “Oh, that would not do. I fear I have many belongings and I would not wish to plague my husband by taking over his chambers.”

She motioned to the heaped wagons. “I will require rooms of my own, most definitely a large bedchamber and a solar.” She attempted a confident and reassuring smile, though she was not at all certain of its effectiveness, considering her current state of disquiet.

The tall knight looked at her closely. “Roland left no specific instructions. We had thought he would be returning here with—”

Gently but deliberately she interrupted, doing her utmost to keep the desperation from her voice. “Then all is well. You will not be countermanding any order given you. Obviously your lord expected me to do as I desired, or he would have accompanied me himself, would he not?”

At last he seemed at a loss for words, for what could he reply to such logic? Only Meredyth was aware of the truth, that Roland had left her at Penacre in anger. But he was not here. What he would say to her actions when he did return, she did not know. She only knew that she would not, could not, share a room with a man who had made his disregard for her so abundantly clear.

Not even when his touch had lit a fire in her like none she had ever imagined.

Forcing such thoughts away, she saw that they had now reached the steps of the keep. Two men and three women stood on the stoop, but she did not look at them directly, simply holding her head high as she fought the uncertainty inside her. To her utter relief no one spoke, simply stepping back to allow her to pass.

As Meredyth entered the great hall at Kirkland and looked about, her already heavy heart sank like a stone in a rain barrel. All during the journey from Penacre she had tried to keep from acknowledging the loneliness and hurt she was feeling, had tried to imagine making a home for herself in spite of the poor beginning with her husband.