Chapter VII
Pilgrimage
“How dare you!” Count Trahern thundered at his daughter where they stood alone on the castle ramparts. “How dare you act like that to such an important guest!”
“He brought it on himself!” Gwenlyn countered fiercely.
“Don’t argue with me! How dare you act like such a—a—a—Bah! I can’t even find the words!”
“Like a spoiled child?” Gwenlyn shouted back. “How else did you expect me to act? You’ve been treating me like a child!”
“Nonsense!”
“Oh, is it? Can you actually claim you gave me a chance to act like an adult anywhere along the way?”
“Of course I have, curse it!”
“You most certainly have not!” Glaring at her father, Gwenlyn continued, “All through this ridiculous non-courtship and non-betrothal I haven’t had a say in anything! You’ve been busily trying to force me into what you want me to be, what you want me to do, as if I couldn’t be trusted to make my own decisions!” That’s not quite true, part of her mind insisted, up till now he’s always let you he your own person. Oh, indeed. Till now. Suddenly furious at herself for feeling a ridiculous urge to weep, Gwenlyn shrieked instead, “I will not be your helpless, mindless slave!”
“You aren’t a slave, you little idiot, you’re my daughter! And as my daughter, you will do as I say!”
“And that is what? Are you really going to command me to marry that lout?”
“You will marry that ‘lout,’ as you so stupidly call him, or anyone else I order you to wed!”
“Ha! Rather than be forced into a trap like that, I would sooner stay a maid alone till the day I die!”
“That is not one of your options, girl,” Count Trahern said darkly. “You are my only heir, and the family line must continue through you. Like it or not, you must marry. You will marry—and the man you wed will be Count Kevin!”
“It will not!”
“Dammit, Gwenlyn, stop answering back!”
“How can I keep quiet? This is my life you’d bargain away!”
Count Trahern glanced heavenward with an angry sigh. “Why?” he asked unseen forces. “Other fathers have nice, sensible, dutiful children. Why was I given such a sharp-tongued, sharp-willed, hopelessly stubborn creature instead?”
“I’m my father’s daughter,” Gwenlyn snarled.
The count lowered his head at that to glare at her. “We’ve been over all this ground before.”
“Gods, yes! Look you, of course I know I’ll have to marry. But—but can’t I have any say in the matter?”
“I’ve given you too much say, there’s the problem! Stop shrieking at me like a servant just for a moment and start thinking like my daughter, like the heir of a count. Count Kevin is high in the royal favor. You know it as well as I. He is far, far too valuable an ally to offend—ha, yes, and yet you’ve already managed to drive him away!”
“He left of his own accord.” That isn’t quite true, either, her mind insisted. You really didn’t give him much of a chance to stay. And…he hadn’t seemed like such a bad sort, not as bad as the others, surely; his face hadn’t been a minstrel’s image of handsomeness, but his eyes had been so full of life and friendliness—
Not that she’d given him much of a chance to be friendly.
“It’s his own fault,” Gwenlyn muttered, as much to herself as her father. “If only he hadn’t tried that ridiculous masquerade, if only he’d been honest with me from the start, maybe—” She brought herself up short. “That’s neither here nor there. I am not going to marry him, and there’s an end to it.”
“There is not the end to it at all!” Count Trahern caught his breath with an audible gasp. “Look you, I could have married you off long before this. You could have been wed to an old man or a cruel one long before you’d reached the age of consent. But no, I cared for your welfare, I waited till you were old enough to—yes, to have some say in the matter. Bah! I was a fool!”
“That’s ridiculous! Why—”
“Don’t interrupt! I let you reject suitor after suitor—”
“Because each one was worse than the next, and you know it! They didn’t want a wife, not one of that glittering, empty-brained lot, they wanted a—a showpiece, a pretty creature who could breed them heirs and keep her mouth shut!”
“And keeping your mouth shut is something you’ve never been able to do!” the count snapped. “I tell you, Count Kevin is known as a good, land young man, a Bard—and I will not have you turn down someone who has the King’s own ear!”
“That’s the heart of it, isn’t it?” Gwenlyn shouted back. “You don’t care about whether or not I’d be happy, not anymore. Oh no, you’re so dazzled by the thought of possible royal favor spreading your way you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose!”
“And what, pray tell,” her father said in a dangerously low voice, “is that?”
“Don’t you know? You’ve fallen so madly in love with the idea of having Count Kevin in the family that you refuse to see the truth: he’s a—a stupid, arrogant nobody! And no matter what you do or say, I will not marry him!”
“Enough of this nonsense!” the count roared. “You will marry Count Kevin, you will not answer me back—and you are going on a little journey, right now!”
Before Gwenlyn could do more than gasp in surprise, her father grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her after him as he shouted for his servants. As they came scurrying up to bow and stare in astonishment, Count Trahern told them fiercely, “My daughter is about to leave on a pilgrimage to the retreat of Saint Verdain for a period of meditation.”
It was a trip commonly made by brides-to-be. As the servants buzzed in surprise and excitement, Gwenlyn opened her mouth, shut it again, so overcome with fury and shock she couldn’t say anything coherent. Her father glared at her, tightening his grip on her wrist so much the tears came to her eyes and choked off any possible protests. “You will do as I say,” he whispered. “Is that understood? You will return in a more suitable frame of mind. Is that understood? You will return in a more suitable frame of mind—or, by all the gods, you are not to return here at all!”
###
The day was cool and clear, with just enough of a gentle breeze to keep off any annoying insects, and the sweet smell of spring was all around. Gwenlyn, sitting on her smooth-striding palfrey, surrounded by her father’s guards, a timid maidservant on a mule beside her, was fuming. She knew that had this been any other outing—even though her father had put repulsive Captain Degalth in charge—she probably would have been enjoying herself immensely. But how could she possibly enjoy being forced into a journey she didn’t want to take? A journey which was going to end in her being trapped into making a decision she didn’t want to make?
How could he do this to me? How could Father virtually send me into exile?
Easily. He really had been amazingly tolerant up till now, allowing her to refuse any and all suitors. Gwenlyn admitted that freely; any other noble’s daughter would never have had so much freedom. That was what had made his sudden decision that Count Kevin was the one she’d wed and no argument about it so startling. Gwenlyn shook her head in frustration. Did her father really expect her to return home nicely humbled, all ready to be married off to whomever Daddy picked?
Ha! Not a chance of that!
But at the same time, Gwenlyn uncomfortably knew there really wasn’t much of an alternative. Short of taking religious orders at Saint. Verdain’s, of course. And I can hardly see myself as a cloistered holy woman! Gods, no, I’d have even less freedom there than I would as a wife.
Her restlessness was communicating itself to her palfrey, which had begun pacing nervously, and for a time Gwenlyn had to turn all her attention to the horse, welcoming the distraction.
“My lady?” one of the guards asked warily. “Would you like one of us to take the reins?”
“No!” Gwenlyn snapped, and told the palfrey with hands and body to behave itself now. The last thing she wanted was to have even this last tiny bit of self-reliance taken from her by overly solicitous guards.
Oh, curse it all, I’m not against marriage, not to someone I could love, or at least like and respect—but can’t I have a chance to live my own life at least a little first? I’ve never actually done anything, not on my own, not as my own, individual self. Am I never going to have a chance to do anything interesting before I wind up going from count’s daughter to count’s wife? Am I never going to have any adventures at all?
Surrounded by the splendid spring day and the attentive guards in their blue and gold livery and glittering mail, Gwenlyn brooded.
###
Captain Degalth, solid, stolid, and totally without imagination, glanced uneasily sideways at his noble employer’s daughter. At least the sharp-tongued creature had fallen silent—for the moment—but it was just a matter of time before she attacked again, making things miserable for him. It wasn’t his fault Count Trahern had decided to send the little shrew off to Saint Verdain’s! If it had been up to him, Degalth thought angrily, he would have had her sent off gagged and bound.
A woman has no business acting like this, thinking for herself and trying to lead her own life. What garbage! Everyone knows no woman can act or think as well as a man—they just aren’t up to it, the delicate things. Childbearing, that’s what they’re made for. And that’s what my Lady Gwenlyn needs, too: a husband to keep her in line and a baby or two. That’ll settle her right down.
But of course he didn’t dare say anything like that to her. Even though it grated to act properly humble to a mere snip of a girl, Degalth had no intention of getting Count Trahern angry at him. Even though he secretly thought the count a fool for giving his daughter a boy’s education, letting the girl get such high and mighty ideas as freedom and independence into her sharp-tongued head.
As though she was aware of his thoughts, Gwenlyn glanced quickly his way. Degalth grit his teeth. “Is something wrong, my lady?”
“Nothing,” she snapped, “save for this whole journey,” and turned just as quickly away.
Be that way, Degalth told her silently. Keep up the shrewish behavior, my lady. And all my sympathies to Count Kevin or any other man who’s unfortunate enough to be stuck with you.
The way Degalth was right now. Suddenly he knew he couldn’t bear having the hot-tempered girl on his hands one moment longer than he had to. Standing in the stirrups, Degalth studied the way ahead. If they stayed on this broad main road, they would have a perfectly safe, perfectly dull ride, and it would take several days to reach Saint Verdain’s. But there was another route through the forest looming up on their left. Granted, it wasn’t as wide or comfortable, and technically not as safe as the main road—but it was most definitely a shortcut that would take at least two days off their journey.
Why not try it? Degalth mused. After all, it’s not really dangerous; I wouldn’t deliberately take Count Trahern’s daughter into peril. But there aren’t any animals big enough to threaten armed men, and there haven’t been any bandits in these parts for years.
Gwenlyn was snapping at one of the guards who was trying to take the reins from her. Degalth looked at her stormy eyes and nodded. That did it. The shorter forest route it was!
He saw Gwenlyn straighten in her saddle. “Captain Degalth, where are we going?”
“Why, to the retreat of Saint Verdain, my lady!”
“Don’t patronize me, Captain Degalth. Why are we leaving the main road?”
“This is a more direct route to Saint Verdain’s, my lady. I know it’s not quite as broad or flat as the main road, but I’ve travelled it before, and I assure you it’s quite safe and comfortable.”
Gwenlyn’s gaze was sharp and wary. Hell, she was going to order him back onto the main road, he knew it. But then she sighed and shrugged. “You would know that better than I. So be it.”
Hastily, before she could change her mind, Degalth led the way into the forest, his horse picking its wary way down the narrow trail. It was cool in here, and dim, with isolated sparkles of sunlight; so much ancient leaf mold carpeted the ground their horses’ hoofs thumped dully rather than clopping. Degalth glanced back to see how Gwenlyn was doing, and was astonished to see her actually smiling, her face for once empty of anger. As a bird darted by overhead, trilling, she looked up sharply with a little cry of delight.
She likes it in here! I bet she thinks it’s all pretty birds and deer and—
A branch slapped him full in the face. Clawing free, spitting out leaves, Degalth could have sworn he heard Gwenlyn chuckle, and only barely managed to stifle a curse. The sooner he was rid of this affliction of a girl, the happier he’d be! Pulling leaves and twigs out of his helm, he signalled a faster pace to the others.
They rode on in silence for what Degalth guessed was quite a while, though it was difficult to judge time when you couldn’t really see the sun. He was just beginning to wonder if they should stop to let Gwenlyn rest—though she seemed to be holding up as well as any of the men—when one of the guards forced his horse up through the bushes to Degalth’s side.
“Uh, Captain,” he murmured, “don’t want to alarm the lady, but…well. . . I could swear someone’s watching us.”
“Nonsense. Who’s going to watch us, a deer?”
“Well…”
“Look, there’s no one living in the forest, not around here anyhow, not even a peasant.”
“Bandits—”
“There have been no bandits in this region for years,” Degalth snapped. “Now get back to your place and keep your mouth shut before you start scaring the lady!”
Not that a little thing like bandits are going to scare this lady, Degalth thought. Naw, nothing short of the end of the world would bother someone like her.
But suddenly it was the end of the world for him. As the arrow slammed into his chest, hitting just above the edge of his mail shirt, Degalth had time only for one quick, last, regretful, Oh hell, looks like the guard was right.
And then there was nothing to think about at all.
###
For one bewildered moment, Gwenlyn thought Captain Degalth had somehow simply managed to fall off his horse. Then she caught a quick glimpse of the arrow, the blood, while all around her, the guards were whipping out their swords and suddenly men were shouting, screaming as arrows cut them down. Her maidservant was screaming, too, a long, shrill shrieking that hurt her ears till it was abruptly cut short. Gwenlyn fought her terrified horse, just barely keeping the saddle as it bucked and plunged. The young woman turned her head this way and that, trying to find a way out, seeing only death and blood. There were wild-eyed, savage faces all around her, cutting off her escape.
Outlaws! And our guards were so—so damned complacent they weren’t prepared to fight, and I—I—
As a guard slid limply from the saddle, sword falling from his hand, Gwenlyn grabbed for the hilt. The sword was heavier than she’d expected, so heavy she needed both hands to steady it, but somehow she managed to slash out at the hands reaching for her. But she couldn’t hold the sword and the reins at the same time, and the palfrey, unused to battle, was wheeling and leaping wildly, throwing off her aim and balance. As Gwenlyn frantically tried to slash out again, hands clamped shut on her arms, her shoulders, pulling her over backwards off the saddle. The sword went flying as she hit the ground with enough force to drive the breath from her lungs. For a terrifying moment all she could do was gasp for air, the leering, filthy faces of her captors looming over her, and think, This is a stupid way to die.
But then a voice shouted, “No, you idiots! That’s a lady you’ve got there, and she’s worth a lot more undamaged. Hurry up, this place isn’t going to be safe for long. Take her with us!”
As they dragged her to her feet, Gwenlyn kicked and bit and clawed frantically. But she might as well have been a child trying to hurt a giant for all the good that did. Someone threw a dirty, bloodstained cloak about her, wrapping it tightly despite her struggles, pinning her arms to her sides. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her forward. As she was dragged helplessly off into the depths of the forest, Gwenlyn told herself wryly: You wanted’ adventure, you fool. Now you’ve got it!