Spring in Westmore.
When Paris left the rooms of Jouet square to head for the palace on their second day in the town, she left early enough that the fog had not yet burned off from the streets. It was light, though impossible to tell where the light was coming from, and the gentle fog quieted the early morning town for those, like her brother, trying to catch the last few moments of sleep. For her, it was a comfortable blanket, just chill and grey enough to match the thoughts that still plagued her from the discussion with the others the day before.
The fog muffled the sounds so that she heard the steady clop, clop of hoof beats at the same time that the two horses appeared out of the fog. The rider of the one on her right, a young man in the Westmore blue, with a silver vine embroidered on his tabard, broke into a large asymmetrical smile when he spotted her. Smoothly, he halted the horses and slid off, moving quickly to stand in front of Paris. "I hoped I'd find you along the way," Ewen said, extending his arms as his eyes said he missed her. Behind him, one of the horses snorted.
Paris felt her heart stop for a moment, with the realization that there was at least one anchor in her life that hadn't changed or disappeared. Tears stung her eyes and she couldn't later remember breaking into a run. She was simply in those welcoming arms before another thought could interfere.
The kiss didn't last long enough for either of them, but the sound of an approaching wagon could be heard, so Ewen led Paris to the horses, arm in arm. "I'd gotten in the habit of checking on Beaujolais when I was in the palace, so when I heard you were back I thought I might as well bring him to you." Beaujolais snorted again as she patted his head, his nostrils flaring briefly, recognizing her scent, and then going back to the patient posture of a waiting horse. He had filled back in, recovering all the weight he had lost on that long journey through winter's storms.
Ewen continued while she checked the horse and its tack before mounting. "I was out on patrol yesterday, didn't hear you were back until we got back to the barony well after dark. And, of course, there was the message to meet with the Duke this morning, so I thought it would be better to try to find you this morning than last night. Besides," he grinned, "we farmers are used to getting up before dawn."
She grinned back. "I know!"
They rode the horses not any faster than a walk, side by side with knees nearly touching through the streets as the light brightened and the city came to life. "You're looking well. Though I haven't heard tell of you returning in a flying boat, so...how was it?"
"How was long term travel in a flying boat? Cramped. Unclean. Thirsty. But it did the job of getting us to the Princess. It didn't survive the get-away, though. That, amongst other things, is part of what needs be told in more privacy. The duke has not heard it all yet. All things considered, however, the rest of our return home was as easy as any," She smiled at him. "And it is so good to see you looking well ... well, it's good to be with you again."
"Come on, I want to show you something." They had turned their horses over to the palace stables, and Ewen divested himself of his riding gear. She noticed he was wearing the chain parts of the armor; not full field plate but considerably more protection than might be called for to visit the Duke. While he had changed, she took the opportunity to switch her sword to the other side, so when he was ready they could walk arm in arm without one of their swords banging the shin of the other.
The path he chose led her further back through the stables, and suddenly into the western gate courtyard that she remembered well. The young boys, already in their practice armor, a couple of them happily play slashing with their wooden swords, more intent on hitting sword against sword than hitting each other. "Remember?" Ewen said with a half smile on his face. "It was just a year ago this week that you walked into this class."
A kaleidoscope of memories rushed back over Paris in a wave of something like homesickness. Only a year. Only a lifetime.
"Baronet deLacey. Sir Paris du Astrea. How nice to see you again." The deep voice from behind her startled them both. Sir Gryphon advanced toward them, moving quietly in his armor, a big grin on his face. "Yes, good to see both of you again. Come, meet the class." He slipped on his helmet and gloves and, making considerable noise, strode out into the courtyard. "Right. Let's get this over with before it gets too hot," he announced in a loud voice, looking up to where the sun had cleared the palace roof. "Fall in!" he shouted. He fixed one of the youngest with an intense gaze. "You! Arturus! I said get in line! Does that look like a line to you?" There was a lot of shuffling all up and down the line, as they tried to get into some semblance of order.
"I have a treat for you children today," Gryphon continued in his best parade-ground sergeant tone. He gestured to Ewen and Paris. "Some of you remember these two from last year. I present to you Sir Ewen, Baronet deLacey, and Sir Paris du Astrea. They won the top two honors at the Festival Tourney last year. After surviving this class." Paris saw that in addition to the ones she remembered, about a third of the class were young...children that she didn't recognize at all. She saw one of them, eyes wide, lean over to the one next to him and whisper 'the lady knight.' "Yes," Sir Gryphon roared, having heard the not very quiet comment, "the first Lady Knight. And good enough to knock any of you on your clumsy rear ends. Now," he said in a quieter roar, "any questions for these two before we get started?"
There was silence along the line, when one of the ones she was sure had been in her class the year before, finally nodded and looked at Ewen. "Is it true you've killed three giants?" Rack her brain as she could, she could not recall his name.
Ewen smiled. She noticed he was standing easily at the parade rest position. "Well, not all three at once. And I worked as a part of teams each time, I couldn't have killed any of them by myself."
There was a little more shuffling, and finally William, now one of the older boys of the class, looked at her. "Sir Paris? Do you really have a magic sword?"
Paris nodded. "Yes. It's Queen Branwen's sword."
"Could we see it?" he asked.
She could never draw the sword without feeling the thrill as the sound came up and the light flowed along the blade; nor without recalling the sadness of how she had come to obtain the blade from the fallen Queen. She stood there a moment facing the line of boys, the curtain of white around her and the sound of the choir filling their ears, as most of the line stood there opened mouth. Almost reluctantly she put the sword away. "All right, that's enough!" Gryphon shouted. "Stop goofing off and get to work!" As they ran to get their wooden swords, the elder knight leaned over to Paris. "If you're going to be wearing your sword on the wrong side, we better work on your draw so you don't look like a lame duck getting it out. Come back down here at the lunch hour." With a curt nod he dismissed the two, turning to work with his small charges.
"Yes, sir!" Paris said with a big smile. Her eyes were still shining as she turned back to Ewen. Softly, "I love you all; you are so much home to me!"
Sir Gryphon was conscious of their departure. 'A fine pair to draw to,' he thought to himself.
Looking at Ewen, an earlier thought rushed back at Paris. She stopped and gazed at him measuringly, trying to control the constriction in her throat. "T-teams against three giants, hm. It is your turn, Sir Ewen, to 'tell all about it' and to not 'leave out the sword bits'." She half-smiled at him.
He grinned back his lopsided grin, but there wasn't any laughter. "You heard about the first one already, on the city wall. The second one, well. The scouts reported a group of fell trying to cross a river. The Duke follows up scout sightings with a heavier mobile force, to do a recon in force and see what we face. He wants to have a day or two warning before troops get here, and since we no longer have anyone who can steal the orcs plans, well." He took her arm and started moving her along. "They were building a bridge across it, and one giant was being an anchor on this side, holding the ropes while they tried to get some big logs in place. I was in the line of course," and he rattled off five other knights who accompanied him, "and our idea was to have the horse archers cover us against the little orcs while we took out the giant and an ogre that was helping him. I caught the giant with a lance blow at full charge right in the thigh, turned him around and had him pretty well fouled in his ropes, and he just glanced off my shield, didn't connect solidly. Then, a moment later, Sir Stepens caught him dead center in the back with his lance. The archers covered us as we rode away."
They were moving into the main keep. There was a bustle of people here, conversations forming a familiar buzz around her. "The third one, well, the fell were sending a fairly large force straight at the town from the west. Duke Evan decided to fight them on the road, well before they got to the fields. So it was a pretty pitched battle, and my unit, well, I lucked out again and found myself with a giant." He grinned again, looking down at her. "I have fought other things, you know, but I seem to have the worst luck attracting giants. Anyway, I have to go to the meeting of Barons that the Duke has called. My father is not feeling well enough to attend," and there was no trace of his smile, "so I am standing in for him. So, if you want to hear about the third giant, how about coming to dinner tomorrow night?"
"If it's no imposition," Paris met his eyes, "I would love to come. I should know by then what of our adventures it is wise to recount. But -- does it not trouble your mother if we do not leave out the 'sword bits'?"
She looked him over. "One last question before you go, if you do not mind. Why the armor? What has changed within this palace since I've been gone?"
Ewen looked around the palace at the other arriving barons. "The Duke's summons indicated that we were to discuss a problem within the walls of the city. The last such problem involved the outlaw church, so it seemed he was warning us to be armed and ready. And, judging by the others, I'd say they read his message the same way." He looked back to her eyes. "As for outside the city, well. The vineyards have not been damaged, but it will be some time before I ride out of the city walls without armor."
Paris laid her palm gently against Ewen's chest. "So the Fell brave so close to the city?" She sighed and lifted her face to look at him again. "It is good to know that you take precautions. Comforting to know that -- despite our profession -- you choose your risks as best you can."
[Yes, Paris intends to tell Ewen about fighting from a flying boat and about the ambush between Westmore and Carcassonne. And she'd be willing to describe life as she saw it aboard a pirate ship. I suspect, though, that the details of the princess' rescue and her current whereabouts are 'bits' that should not yet be told as the princess is a 'wild card' in the current political situation.]
"Paris!" Lorraine squealed and hugged her friend when they finally met. "So, you rescued the Princess? From pirates?" Lorraine was unchanged; asking Paris questions, giving her but a moment to reply before she was off again on a new subject. Cynthia, it seemed, was to be married now, to the son of one of the town barons, and Lorraine was going to be one of the maids. Andrea, one of the girls she didn't know very well, had been married last year and was now pregnant. The list went on, covering who was likely to wed as well as who was gossiped about.
"Not from pirates," Paris laughed. "After we brought the Princess out of captivity we all were rescued by pirates. I hope Cynthia is happy about her marriage," Paris said softly. "It will be nice for you, I hope, to have her back in town again. How has it been with you? Tell me, dear one, what you can...?"
After Lorraine has chattered awhile, Paris inserted, "Your father already thinks I need more training -- which I do -- so I am happy to say that I found him as hale and hearty as ever. And I am more impressed by his skill now than I should have been a year ago. An amazing man! I'm so pleased that he still is willing to teach me. I'd rather feared being tossed out to simply sink or swim." Paris looked at her friend. "I still need rather a lot of teaching, I think. I've some particular questions for your mother as well, if ... well, do you think she might find some time for a former student once again?"
"I understand you wanted to speak with me, Sir Paris?" The formidable Lady Gryphon moved straight-backed into the room, as the afternoon sun slanted in through the window. "I have a little time while the preparations for dinner are being made."
Paris made her courtesy, conscious that she'd had time (and used it) to make sure she was tidy before the lady had arrived. "Thank you for your time, Lady Gryphon. It is good to see you again, if I may say so, my lady." She paused, dredging up the words that she'd considered using. "It is understanding that I once again seek. I hope that your wide travels and experience with the society of courts may have shown you an explanation for something that troubles me. Two things. One of importance mostly to me, I suppose. The other, more general."
"This last trip took me to the northern Isles. But all that puzzles me about the Isles is hear-say. The general point is: what is there about the government or the society of the Isles that is so different from Tara that barons turn pirate and make unspeakable raids upon one another, or that one lord can usurp another's rightful place -- and there seems to be no recourse to the King or succor from him? One of these events took place a year or more ago; the others, well before I was born I think. But this lack of understanding I have about the Isles leads into the other point I would ask."
Lady Gryphon nodded for Paris to continue, her face expressionless.
Paris slowly turned red. She had thought she could speak of this intellectually, but her very innocence turned against her. "When first I came to study in this palace I found there were those who thought that I -- was -- something like a paramour to -- our prince William. And I have learned that Princess Katherine and, I would expect, those around her still consider me, him, in that light. I know that I am not, was not. Was never seen by my prince in such a light. How could he, being such a man as he was?' Her hand unconsciously touched her badge. "What puzzles me is how can anyone who knew Prince William even consider such a slander, such a possibility? No one who knew him could question his honour. So how could his sister-in-law even think it, much less say it? What sort of society inhabits the Isles?"
The older woman's eyes looked sad, even as her nose wrinkled. "Does my husband teach nothing of War anymore?" she said softly. "It is, I suppose, easier to strike an orc that looks different. But it is harder to fight someone who only weeks before was a neighbor. Or a family member, though I think Katherine never felt very much towards him. They must do all they can to drag his name and all he stood for down. It is a part of any campaign, to demonize the opponent, making it a holy duty to swing a sword through someone who was once a friend." She held her gaze steadily for several moments, gauging Paris' reaction. "In your case," she continued slowly, "there is more. You, yourself, are an oddity they do not understand. It is simplest to believe that you wield only the power of the bedchamber, rather than the power of your own self."
She turned to the door, sending a page for two cups of tea. "Sit, please, Paris. The tea will be along shortly. What kind of society inhabits the isles? An old one, families with layers of interrelationships and feuds both petty and large. Indeed, the Kings did move to counter most wars. Always, you must know, on the side of whoever would benefit them most. And, thus, many of the 'wars' are fought by forces disguised as pirates. Oh, there are pirates, many of them, but many of those who profess to be pirates are actually working for one lord or another. My husband, or perhaps one of the other advisors here at court, could better explain the logistics and projection of force; but, from what I can see, the so-called 'pirate' forces must be less numerous, and thus tend to fight by raids against the unprotected, and use great violence. If some raids are successful, and the opponent weakened, then will a lord move against a neighbor, to try to quickly win before royal forces can be brought to bear." She smiled faintly. "The Royal family, as you know from your history, is no stranger to pirates. It is rumored that some of the pirates work directly for the crown." She glanced momentarily at the closed door to the room. "It is said that Trenchard or Trask, or some other variant, is secretly the Royal pirate. Should your adventures ever take you to the isles again."
Conversation stopped while the tea arrived and was served. "There is a particularly bitter book written for those who rule in the isles. Instructions to a Prince by an advisor, written down and handed on from ruler to ruler, on how to conduct such wars, and also how to rule in the aftermath of one. It is a bitter book because it is ruthless, advocating mass murder and iron control; but, mostly, because if it is followed exactly it works." She looked down to stir her tea for a bit. "Some of those who became real pirates did so to escape what would happen to them after losing to such a lord."
For several moments they both sat and drank the tea as it cooled. "For the most part, most people, the islands are a stable and safe place to live. A network of alliances and relationships keeps things that way. At the fringes, perhaps small islands, some fighting goes on. It is only after a particular break of luck that larger forces come into play, and an island changes from one allegiance to another. Continuous small wars, draining off the aggressive, forestalling, it is thought by some, a more major conflict." She looked across the nearly empty cups to the younger woman. "Does that answer your question?"
"Yes, my lady," Paris sighed softly. "Part of me should have guessed all that. It makes such a lot of sense." She looked with some anxiousness at Lady Gryphon. "Please do not blame my teachers, my lady. They had me for such short periods of time this past year that it should be more wondered at that they were able to pour enough into me to allow me to make a credible showing. There are times when I listened to Rodric and Ewen that I was sure it would take years to catch up. I will -- try to find more time -- for library studies. I am most grateful to both you and your husband for the time you have given me."
She looked down into the cup, noting the flecks of tea leaves settling to the bottom. "In time, I will come to understand better the way of the world and think less like I am living some old chivalric lay. One would think that I'd had enough lessoning already for that, at least." Paris glanced up with her half-smile again, the pain of past losses not quite damped down. "Thank you, my lady."
[Paris certainly should borrow a book or two from the library to study on her next trip. She is just too far behind in some things. :-)]
"War & Slander" copyright 2000 P.Shea & S.Knowles. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.