Bardess of Rhulon Read online

  Chapter Twelve

  The Red Boar buzzed with noontime guests. Becky beamed with pride when she told them about her official appointment as a bard. Meg cheered and hugged her. Digby grumbled, wiping down the bar, complaining about losing his barmaid and almost in the same breath, boasting to his patrons that their Rose was now a real bard at the palace.

  “I’m so proud of you, Rosie,” Becky sniffled. “You girls have a nice sit down. I’ll sit with you later.” She shambled back to the kitchen, dabbing her eyes.

  “I feel so bad about leaving them so abruptly,” Rose murmured. “They’ve just been so good to me!”

  “They’re truly proud of you,” Meg exclaimed. “And they will be just fine.”

  “We got some beef stew today if you’re proper hungry, unless you’re too fancy for my food now,” Digby offered.

  “I would love your stew,” Rose beamed.

  “Make that for both of us. I’m starving,” Meg added.

  They sat down at an empty table in the corner. Digby brought them two large bowls of stew, cider, and a small loaf of bread.

  “I think there’s actually some meat in this stew,” Meg said and dug in, ravenous. “I’m happy for you, Rose. Who is your benefactor?”

  Rose stirred her bowl of stew with the rumination of a witch over a cauldron. “Prince Culain Ironheart. He was the one who gave me that bag of gold.”

  “What’s wrong?” Then Meg’s eyes flamed with anger. “Did he try to bed you?”

  “He didn’t try anything improper. Prince Culain swears my virtue is not in danger.”

  “Good,” Meg said gingerly, “then neither is his life. Until the spell breaks, just enjoy it. What’s your benefactor like?”

  “Prince Culain. He’s very eccentric,” Rose whispered. “I can’t put it into words. He has very blue eyes. He’s smart, yet acts like a court fop in public. I can’t explain it. I’m at a loss for words.”

  “Prince Culain must be complex for you to be at loss for words. Language is your bread and butter.” Meg tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it in the stew.

  Rose spooned the thick stew into her mouth between sentences. “Culain wants to train me in court politics. And this outfit?” Rose exclaimed, pointing to the elegant lace trimmed blouse and whispering, “Was among many rich clothes in my new closet. There is a whole wardrobe full of feminine garments. Dwarf sizenot tall folk.” She put down her spoon and tore pieces of bread into her stew and stirred. “Perhaps he kept mistresses and these are leftover clothes from a court tart.” She whisked her stew furiously.

  Meg calmly put her gloved hand over Rose’s to stop the stew from being whipped to death. “Is that what’s bothering you?” Meg asked pointedly.

  Rose dropped the spoon and sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I suppose he doesn’t seem like a man who keeps tarts.” She went back to eating until she scraped the last of her meal from the bowl onto her spoon. “He’s not ashamed to have a woman as his bard. I never expected that from a Rhulonese man. Most would laugh at my ambitions, but he doesn’t.” Rose pushed away the empty bowl and leaned back, exasperated. “And last night in my room I saw”

  A strange man approached their table. His face was shadowed by a wide brimmed black hat; his dress was somber and plain; black cloak eased only by a white collar, like a vicar.

  Meg’s expression was chilling when she looked at him.

  “Meghan?” he said softly.

  “Mathias,” Meg replied coldly.

  Meg jumped up and struck his jaw with such force it sent him crashing backward into the next table, scattering the occupants of the next table. The stunned customers mutely kept their distance from her and the stranger. Mathias staggered to his feet, cupping his chin.

  “What’s this all about?” Digby shouted, marching toward the stranger. “I don’t want trouble in my place. What’d you say to our Meg? Who are you, villain?” standing protectively in front of Meg and Rose, raising the wooden club he kept handy for rowdy customers.

  Meg stormed out of the Red Boar, the patrons giving her wide birth as she fled.

  “Forgive me,” the stranger apologized as he straightened his hat. He laid a silver coin on a table. “For your troubles and my short comings, sir.”

  He left the Red Boar without further explanation, his cloak billowing like raven wings with his stride.

  * * *

  Robert Silverberry, Culain’s elderly valet, rested on his walking stick of twisted hawthorn wood outside her door when she finally returned. He was an imposing presence with his piercing stare and voluminous grey robes. He was also cranky.

  “I take it you’re Mistress Rose Greenleaf?” he asked bluntly.

  Rose nodded, breathless. She ran all the way to her room from the moment she jumped out of the carriage. “You must be Robert Silverberry.”

  “I’ve been waiting to escort you to the gardens for almost a quarter of an hour.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Silverberry.”

  Rose was still distressed about Meg. She went to the ranger house, but Skullcap had not seen her. He did confirm a gentleman had come to the ranger house asking about Meg that morning after she left for the tavern. Even with the speed of the carriage, Rose was very late and worried sick about her friend.

  “The tea party is nearly ready to begin and Prince Culain is expecting you to be on time, young lady.”

  Rose rushed past him into her room and shut the door. “I’ll just be a minute.” She pulled off her blouse, unhooked and kicked away the heavy skirt; all the while his booming gravelly voice penetrated the thick door.

  “Ha! I’ve heard many a maiden promise that and then take over an hour for dress and the crucial arrangement of hair. Never understood why girls take so much precious time to put on a dress. My master has invested his trust and time in you, Miss Greenleaf. Personally, I think Prince Culain is being foolish”

  Rose opened the door, dressed in her bard uniform and holding her lute. “I’m ready now.”

  His windy speech froze in mid-sentence when she abruptly appeared, fully dressed in her bard uniform. She even managed to plait her hair into a quick side braid and had her lute.

  “You were saying?” she asked sweetly with a smile.

  His eyes narrowed and crinkled, “You are a cheeky girl,” Robert grumbled, but Rose caught a humorous twinkle in his eye.

  “But, still not like other girls,” Rose countered. She did not mind his crusty personality because he reminded her of Belenus.

  “Well, let’s move on, Miss Greenleaf.”

  Despite Robert’s urge for speed, Rose had to restrain her walk to match his turtle pace. He gave her a list of songs to play and the order. Robert had amazingly thick snowy hair for a man of his advanced age. It puffed out from his head like clouds and also sprouted from his ears. She secretly named him Fuzzy Ears. Their march was slow and it gave her time to think about poor Meg.

  “Why were you tardy?’ Robert asked bluntly.

  “My friend is in distress.”

  “Is this friend some frilly young maiden you share gossip with?”

  “No, she’s a ranger named Meg Sparrow. No frills, I’m afraid. Something upset her today. It was far from frivolous too. She’s a good friend. She even saved my life. Honestly, she was more than just upset. I would describe it more like a volcano erupting with molten hot lava and”

  “Are you the one who upset her?” Robert asked pointedly.

  “Of course not,” Rose replied, confused.

  “Are you sure?” he needled.

  She answered him a sharp look.

  “Just checking, miss,” Robert smirked, chuckling.

  She had been torn about Meg, but she had ridden away so fast.

  They almost bumped into Prince Darius when he abruptly turned a corner. Remembering he was a prince, Rose curtsied deeply and bowed her head. “Your Highness,” she stammered. “Forgive me.”

  Robert bowed stiffly and then could not straighten up.


  “Please Robert, no fuss now,” Darius insisted, looking uncomfortable. He helped Robert stand up straight and his spine made popping sounds as he recovered his posture. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

  “It is only proper that I do, Your Highness,” Robert insisted, rubbing the small of his back.

  “I was hoping I would see you,” Darius said quietly.

  “You were? Really?” Rose gasped.

  Robert remained a watchful and stubborn chaperone with furry ears.

  Darius continued, “You were wonderful last night. Your voice is amazing.”

  Extraordinary joy filled Rose. “Thank you, Your Highness,” she said formally.

  “Even my father was impressed. No easy feat. Mother thought you were most charming. Please Rose, just call me Darius, at least as long as my noble parents are not in sight. I’ve never heard the Ironheart poem recited with such fervor. That was my favorite poem as a boy.”

  “Mine too,” Rose replied. “King Gregor was the greatest hero in my country’s history. It’s ironic that my benefactor, Prince Culain, is his descendent. I always imagined all the Ironheart men as rough-hewn with massive beards braided with iron pins and carrying mighty battle axes dripping with blood.”

  Robert fussily leaned on his staff watching them. “The sad result of reading too many silly adventure tales,” Robert Fuzzy Ears sniffed.

  Darius laughed, “But a vivid description. I must admit I can never imagine Culain to ever resemble such an image.”

  They both laughed.

  Robert leaned on his staff, scowling. “Yes, the legendary warriors of Rhulon are most impressive,” Robert interjected. “Now we must be going now, Bardess Rose.” He nudged her by rapping her leg with his gnarly staff. “I’m sure Prince Darius understands the obligation of such a famous bardess.”

  Robert said bardess with a sharp tinge of sarcasm.

  “I’ll see you there,” Darius said. “Mother is looking forward to it.”

  “I’ll be there with my trusty lute,” Rose replied. She winced, feeling ridiculous.

  “You bards are so clever with words,” Robert snickered as he walked down the hall.

  “And old gentleman too free with their walking sticks,” she retorted, cursing her foolishness.

  “A benefit of my grey years,” he remarked.

  “Have you worked for Prince Culain long?” she asked.

  “I’ve served the Ironheart family all my life,” Robert said proudly. “Prince Culain is just the youngest Ironheart in my charge.”

  The garden’s lavish green and the subtle fragrances in the air instantly soothed her. There was such a great variety of flowers and trees! The flawless roses alone would make her mother curse with envy. A blue and cloudless sky allowed ample sunshine to bathe the gardens in light. She caught a brief glimpse of a hummingbird, tiniest and swiftest of birds, with soft green with shimmery red wings buzzing briefly above pink chrysanthemums.

  Robert advised, “Stay in your spot unless summoned. Do not eat or drink unless invited.”

  “I’ll behave, Robert.”

  She sat in the chair Robert indicated, a small cushioned seat beneath a tall oak a slight distant from the guests so as not to be intrusive. Robert tottered away slowly. “If you have trouble finding your way back, just ask one of the guards. They can show you.”

  “Thank you, Robert.”

  From her hidden place by the tree, they wanted to imagine their music is delivered by mystical fairies as they nibble their delicacies. The tea and little iced cakes brought by the maids looked scrumptious. She tuned her lute and waited, wanting this to be over so she could find Meg. Rose wished she could revel in the green beauty around her, kick off her shoes and run barefoot on the soft grass.

  A raven flew down to the manicured grass, hopping about boldly in hope of tasty tidbits discarded by the wasteful humans. The bird boldly waddled near Rose. It was funny how majestic birds are in flight, but when walking on the ground become clownish.

  “Did Karta send you?” Rose whispered. “I’ve no food, but after the royal party is over, maybe I can offer you some leftover cake?”

  “Do you converse with ravens often?” a rich feminine voice inquired from behind.

  Startled, Rose turned to see Lady Thera Sule standing amongst the trees in a jade colored gown. The silk clung to her curves as she moved.

  “My lady, I did not hear you,” Rose said.

  Thera moved closer, delicate sandaled feet silent on the grass. “That is good. I whisper through the world. My caste is trained to be quiet in manner and deed. Forgive me if I surprised you, little bard.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Rose replied. “I’m just fond of Ravens. They are Karta’s symbol.”

  Lady Sule smiled and held out her sleek, gloved arm and whistled. The raven instantly alighted on her slim wrist. “I too respect the raven. Karta is one of the few gods our races share.” Her voice had a liquescent accent.

  Rose was shaken for a moment, seeing the wild raven fly so eagerly to a strange human. “What did you mean by caste?”

  “I am priestess caste. I was born to poor barley farmers. Lowest caste next to slave, but my parents sold me to great temple when I was seven.”

  “That’s terrible,” Rose blurted out.

  “Not at all,” Thera replied. “They made a virtuous sacrifice for my future. In turn, they received a small bag of gold and a box of salt for me. I trained to be a priestess in the Temple of the Elementals. I have talents, of course, as the priests require more than beauty to serve. In return, I received an education and an honored place in the world. I am High Priestess now. Noble blood is an illusion, the invention of mortal man.”

  “And mortals are dust to elementals,” Rose added, recalling the old tale. “Please call me Rose. “I’ve read about Uragon. It sounds so very wild and beautiful. Your people worship a race of elementals.”

  “Elementals are the creators in our faith. They are ancient beings beyond mortal comprehension.” Thera gently stoked the raven’s beak. It did not bite her, but welcomed her touch.

  Was she a witch or sorceress?

  “The sacred elements of fire, earth, air and water are the forces of all life and death. Elementals create power. They are power,” Thera proclaimed. “The ancient ones do not grant it to mortals. The weak perish. The strong conquer. Destiny is an illusion.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” Rose replied. “Which temple do you serve?”

  “Hecubal, Elemental Queen of Wind and Sky. She rules the moon and reigns over the night. She wears a crown of stars upon her celestial head and her eyes are storm clouds.”

  “She sounds terrifying,” Rose blurted out without thinking.

  But instead of being angry, Thera seemed pleased with her response.

  “Good. She should be terrifying. Elementals are not play things for human weakness.” She stroked the inky feathers on the raven and added in a whispered tone, “Hecubal has three daughters. One of them is Karta, Elemental of Fate.”

  “Karta is my chosen goddesses,” Rose confessed.

  “Then we share a bond, for Karta is my mine as well.” She lifted her arm and the raven flew into sky.

  Time paused as Thera watched the raven vanish from sight. Thera Sule was a mystery, despite all she had said to her.

  The vociferous giggle of a young woman broke the timeless moment. Princess Lilias arrived with the royal party. Her pink satin dress lavish with lace trim was in the western fashion and her blonde hair a mass of ringlets that framed her perfect, bland face.

  Are all her gowns pink?

  Suddenly, Rose had a painful headache.

  “We will speak again, Rose,” Thera promised. She joined the royal party and took her place by Princess Lilias.

  They gathered around the table laid with rich foodstuffs and fine porcelain cups and a shining silver tea service. There was much about ado about the passing of cups and sweets as they settled. Lilias reclined in an elegant
chair for her comfort. Her feet were encased in stiff satin shoes with ribbon laces peeking out from her petticoats. Rose played her lute, yet kept her focus on the conversation.

  Prince Culain arrived much later for the tea party, flamboyantly dressed in black and white satin brocade coat with a jaunty matching hat trailing a long white feather. “Sorry I’m so tardy, my treasured Empress Isabeau. Forgive this unworthy wretch!” He paused to bow and kiss her hand. “Your husband kept me locked in his study for hours working. I’m exhausted!”

  The Empress smiled genuinely as she accepted a cup of tea from her maid. “You always make my heart light, Culain. Aristide works too hard,” she agreed. “Will my husband join us for tea?”

  “Alas, he sends his regrets, Your Majesty, but promises to join us for dinner this evening.”

  “It’s so boring,” Lilias pouted, daintily dipping her biscuit in her tea. “Where’s the music? Doesn’t your servant know to entertain us, Culain?”

  I am a bard not a servant, Rose fumed inwardly. Rose’s head throbbed with pain. In her distraction, she realized she has stopped playing her lute. Angry with herself for being such a village idiot, she called out, “Forgive me, Princess Lilias, I was tuning my instrument so it would be perfect to your ears.”

  I hope they bought that! Rose grimaced, beginning a soft, cheerful tune on the lute.

  Lilias and Thera were from the same land, the same court, yet they were as different as night and day. Lilias looked like any frivolous aristocrat. Thera was regal as a panther. Rose pondered if Lilias would have lucked into a better caste if she had been born to poor farmers like Thera?

  Darius and Lilias fell mute after a few minutes of forced gaiety and conversation. Lilias slumped in her chair and stirred her cup listlessly.

  “It’s a lovely day,” Empress Isabeau interjected, trying to revive the conversation.

  “Sunny,” Culain agreed.

  “The only thing missing is the sound of crickets,” Rose mused softly as she played.

  “Dear Darius,” Lilias began, boldly taking his hands. “I know we have not been acquainted long. There has been such tragedy. But your royal parents and my uncle, King Krell, have signed the new marriage agreement. Please Darius, I don’t want to wait. Let’s marry now. Well, not this minute of course. There is no need for a long courtship. We should marry before month’s end. Don’t you agree?”