Where the Path Leads – Chapter 34

• MARY DRAKE –

Under the Castle

Just then, there was a tug on her sleeve–it was little Thea, no longer so little, looking at least an inch taller, her brown hair tucked up neatly under a simple white head covering.

         At the sight of a familiar face Emily gave a happy little cry and embraced the girl, who beamed. “What are you doing here?” Emily asked. Thea lived in the village with her parents, not here at the castle.

         “I was hired out as chambermaid to Lady Rosamond and her waiting women,” she said. “She’s not a hard mistress, though I miss mum something awful.”

         Emily had seen young children at work ever since she came here, but it still didn’t seem right. 

         “But what about Father Lawrence’s school?” 

         Thea shrugged, then her still-childlike face clouded, and she wordlessly took Emily’s hand, guiding her through the bustle toward a less crowded corner of the great room. “They’ve gone,” she whispered.

         Emily nodded.  “I heard.”

         “It’s because of what you told them,” Thea continued.

         “Me?” she croaked, wanting to deny responsibility, “but, I thought they left because of the . . . ,“ she almost said “volcano,” then settled for “disaster?”

         Thea shook her head and the white cloth pinned there fluttered slightly, then she put a hand on Emily’s arm and spoke earnestly. “They just took the occasion of the Great Burning with all its confusion to leave. They went to find land. Open land, and make it their own, like you said.”

         Emily was dumbfounded. She never could have known they would take what she said to heart and, what’s more, act on it. Then she remembered what the crone had taught her: that your actions are like waves, rippling out and having consequences that you often can’t foresee. It must have taken great courage for them to break away from everything, and everyone, they knew.

         “Not through Blackwood forest I hope.”

         “Oh no. They went the other way. Mum said west.”

         “What about you? And your mother?”

         Thea looked around nervously, leaning still closer. 

         “When they’ve found a place, they’re coming back for us,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Mum said she doesn’t know how we’ll live, but Dad says we’ll make it all right, and we won’t have to spend all our lives giving everything to the master.”  Thea’s voice trailed off almost inaudibly.

         Was this how change came about, Emily wondered? How whole societies changed?

         “You inspired them,” Thea said. “Dad said he had never imagined there could be another way, and Isaac said he wanted to feel like a human being, not just a workhorse.”

         Thea suddenly seemed grown up, no longer the happy-go-lucky little girl collecting flowers on May Day. Emily took her hand and squeezed it hopefully, wishing the best for her. 

         “I hope my mistress hasn’t noticed I’m missing . . . ,” Thea glanced back toward the oaken doorway where Rosamond stood, formally greeting her brother.

         Arthur bent to kiss his sister’s hand before straightening and embracing her. Seeing them together, Emily noticed the family likeness for the first time, the same shapely mouth, the same kind, intelligent eyes. They resembled their mother.  Rosamond, as always, looked perfectly beautiful and Emily was suddenly conscious of her own dirtiness, the result of so many days in the forest and nights spent sleeping on the ground. She could do with a hot bath as well.

         “There’s to be a feast to celebrate Sir Arthur’s homecoming . . . ,” Thea was saying.

         Emily’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food.

         “. . . but would you like to see Will first?”

         “You know where he is?” Emily cried.

         Thea frowned unhappily but nodded.

         Before she could say more, Arthur appeared out of the crowd and was standing next to them. Thea fell silent and curtseyed.

         “Emilia, at the feast, I plan to publicly pardon you.”

         She thanked him, asking if he would pardon Will as well, and he assured her he would.

         “I want you to have this,” she said finally, handing him the cypress staff.

         “I can’t take it, Emilia. You went to great lengths to get it.”

         It seemed the staff had special properties, but she didn’t think she’d be needing it at home. “I insist,” she said. “Please.”

         “I’ll take good care of it,” he said, sliding his fingers reverently along the smooth wood.

         She smiled, then followed Thea who led her through the great room as men and women were setting up trestle tables, boards atop what looked like saw horses. They went down winding steps into the kitchen, where there was even more bustle. Cooks and scullery maids rushed around frantically ladling hot beef stew out of cauldrons into large pottery bowls and arranged an assortment of meat pies right out of the oven onto long platters. The warmth from the huge fireplaces set into the walls made her dizzy, and she almost swooned with the rich scent of meat seasoned with rosemary and sage. 

         But holding Emily’s hand, Thea continued purposefully through the chaos to the back of the kitchen where a woman sat in a chair, while a girl with long dark hair hovered close by. When they approached, the girl looked up and she saw it was Maria, the pastry cook who had been sweet on Will. The woman in the chair, dressed in plain woolen clothes, smiled indulgently as she focused on the baby she was nursing.

         “How is she today?” Thea asked.

         “She took a good nap and awoke hungry, as you can see,” Maria answered.

         “Maria’s been promoted,” Thea told Emily, “to nursery maid, ever since Appolonia had the baby.” When she saw Emily’s confusion, she added, “She’s one of the waiting women.”

         “Better than working with that cranky old pastry chef,” Maria said, “though this young one has her ups and downs. Had a rough start, too,” she told Emily.  “Born during the Great Burning.”

         Emily looked politely at the baby who had just finished nursing. It wasn’t particularly her perfect, pink face against the white blanket or the brownish blonde curls that she noticed, rather it was her wide open eyes. Their color made her catch her breath, for they were like the sky on a warm spring day, deep blue and full of promise. Taking a closer look, she thought she discerned the strong angle of Sophia’s jaw and the slope of her nose. So she hadn’t been hallucinating. Her near-drowning vision had been true. Sophia was reborn as one of the ruling folk, perhaps even better able to help others. Sophia had been the first person Emily met on coming here and now she was among the last, before leaving. She felt a pang of regret, already missing Sophia, but Thea interrupted her thoughts.

         “Maria’s been taking food to Will ever since he’s been there.”

         “And still my poor darling is wasting away,” Maria said.

         “Not for much longer,” Thea assured her. “Emilia spoke to Sir Arthur and he’s going to pardon him.”

         Maria’s pale cheeks suffused with color. “Oh thank you, thank you so much.”

         “Can you take her to see him?” Thea asked.

         Maria paled again.

         “I have to return to my mistress,” said Thea. “She’ll notice if I’m gone too long.”

         Maria looked at the wet nurse who said, “Be quick about it girl. I’ll hold her for a bit, but I ‘ave to get back to work too. And don’t be bringing that smell back with ye. It’s ’nuff to put ye right offa your food.”

         “I will . . . I mean . . . I won’t,” Maria stammered. 

         Pulling on the ponderous metal handle of a heavy oak door nearby, Maria led Emily down yet another set of winding stone steps. This stairway was longer, and the farther down they went, the colder and darker it became.

         “Take my hand,” Maria said. “ ‘Tis easy to get lost.”

         Emily saw why as she followed her down a narrow hallway that grew ever darker.

         “Isn’t there any light down here?” It felt like the cave, again. 

         “Sometimes I bring a rushlight.”

         “How do you know where to go?”

         “Been comin’ down here the whole time you was gone.”

         Emily felt a stab of guilt. 

         Maria kept her free hand on the wall and felt her way along, making turn after turn.

         Instead of counting the turns, Emily simply allowed herself to be led down the maze of corridors.

         The cold seemed almost like a palpable presence alongside her, pressing on her arms and legs, tweaking her nose and ears, biting the tips of her fingers and toes, like an untamed creature that wouldn’t be ignored. 

         But after several turnings, it was the smell that made her stop in her tracks. The sharp odor of urine choked her throat, stung her eyes; the reek of excrement, made her stomach churn and she gagged. There couldn’t have been more contrast between the light and warmth upstairs, with the savory smells of food, and the cold, sickening darkness down here.

         Maria cupped a hand over her nose and mouth and with a muffled voice called out to Will. All was silent, and she called again. 

         Her head down to keep from being sick, Emily’s forehead broke out in a cold sweat and she reached out a hand to steady herself, but the stone wall was cold and slimy, and she drew it back.

         After a few moments, they heard a small voice.

         “Maria?” The disembodied voice came out of the darkness.

         “Here Will. I brought someone who wants to talk to you.”

         Silence.

         “It’s me, Will,” Emily called out. Did he blame her as she blamed herself for what had happened to him?

          “Emilia?”  He sounded incredulous.

         “Yes, it’s me. How are you, Will?”

         “I’ve been better,” was his choked reply.

         “He’s much changed,” whispered Maria. To Will she said, “Here, love. I brought you a roll,” and she pulled something out of her pocket. “I have to get back to my charge, but next nap she takes, I’ll bring more.”

         Will thanked her.

         “But, how do I get back?” Emily said.

         “All left turns,” Maria assured her. 

         She recalled they had made all right turns to get here. At least there were no stalagmites to trip over.

         “Four of ‘em,” Maria said.

         When they were alone, Emily turned to Will. In her mind’s eye he was the boy she had danced with around the May Pole, with the curly hair and the mischievous sparkle in his brown eyes. “I’ve talked to Arthur. He’s going to pardon you and send you home.”

         “Thanks be to the Great One!  It can’t be soon enough.”   

         His voice was nearer and she could discern his outline in the dark, but the stench was overwhelming. She had to resist the urge to back up, and she stifled a cough.

         “I’m glad,” he said as he chewed, “that you survived the Seneschal and the Burning. He told me he had ‘disposed’ of you.”

         “He sent me away, and during the Burning, we hid in a cave.”

         “We?”

         Rather than go into all of that, instead she blurted out, “Sophia is dead, Will. They starved her.”

         He moaned softly. “What now for you?”

         “I’m going home.” The word felt foreign on her tongue.

         After a moment he said, “We want to leave, too. Me and Maria.”

         She smiled faintly in the darkness. Maria had gotten what she wanted. “Where will you go?”

         “With Thea, when they come back. I never thought I wanted to leave, but after this, . . . I want to be my own man. Not a tado. Not serving ruling folk. But master of myself.”

         The ripples were still spreading. “I hope everything works out for you.” She wanted to touch his arm or kiss his cheek, but he seemed to sense her thoughts and moved back.

         “Traveling mercies,” he said.

         “What?”

         “It’s what we say before someone goes on a trip. It means, may the Great One watch over you during your travels.”

         “You too, Will. And thanks for being my friend.” She didn’t add, especially when I needed one.

         “Who knows?” he said.  “Someday perhaps we’ll meet in the North.”