the Leathermines

Back to Chapter 11

 

Laun looked up at the commotion at the door.  The servants parted and Falmir stormed in.

The smile on the servant who was playing Sticks with her vanished and she scooted away and into the shadows.  Laun took in a breath and blinked as Falmir came towards her.  He leaned on the table, disturbing the playing field, the Sticks falling into chaos amongst each other.

He was red.  From the collar up.  It looked like there were many things he wanted to say.  He was so angry, none of them came out.

Laun waited.  She had a small smile on her face and folded her hands into her lap.  There was a moment where Laun almost spoke, but the comment went unsaid so that Falmir would have the feeling of the attack.

“What do you mean by it?”  It was a roar, not a question.

“I am sorry, sire.  About what?”  Laun was quiet and had a level voice, though she felt her fingers clenching together.

“The servants going about the Palace looking for soap as if you had nothing up here?”  He pointed at the bathing chamber.  “I stocked this guest chamber with the finest oils and gels-”

Laun had tilted her head which had made Falmir flash hotter under the collar, but quieted him because of the rage.  “Yes.  From Rosemond.”

His hand pounded on the table, scattering more of the Sticks.  “They have the best...”

Laun had just raised her eyebrow.  That was it.  She looked down at her hands.

“What is it with you?”  Falmir pushed off the table, scattering the last of the Sticks pieces, some on the floor.  He turned and paced.

Laun sat and looked at her hands for a moment.  “Sire.”

He rounded on her, yelling, “What?”

“May I ask about one thing?”  She raised her eyes to him, looking at him past her eyebrows.

He calmed his tone but was still loud.  “What do you want to ask, Lady Laun?”

Laun motioned towards the window, the harbor.  “Do the red flags on the masts mean they are from Rosemond?”

Falmir approached the window and looked down to the harbor.  He stood next to her, one hand on either side of the tie of the leather belt at his hips.  He nodded.  “Red for Rosemond, black for Myrned, the green...”  He turned to her.  “What does that have to do with you making the King of the Midlands look like an ass?”

Laun just looked at Falmir.  She tried not to smile, but it came out.  “Sire?”

“You know full well that the Palace is full of ears and eyes.  When you came here, and I put you in these rooms and not the prison, those eyes and ears were pointed at me.”  He looked down at her.  He was not as angry, but there was still some sort of rage behind his mask of calm.

Laun nodded at him.  “And when I sent for simple soaps, it came to you that I was making you look bad by making it look like...  You could not provide.”  Laun put her hand up and placed hers on his, back of hand to back of hand.

He jumped slightly.  “That is it, exactly.  I am the King.  I have a young woman as my guest.  She sends servants out to find soap.  How would you see it?”

Laun lowered her hand from his.  “I would see that she did not wish to put more money into the coffers of the Kingdom that is taking over this one.”

He snorted.  “You infuriate me, Lady.”

“Yes, sire.”

Falmir looked down at her and smiled.  “Tell me...”

Laun moved slightly so she could see him better.  “Sire?”

“Why did you do it?”

“The bathing things were too heavily scented.  I am...sensitive since I have become heavy with the baby.”  She saw him nod slightly.  “I asked for plain soap.”  Laun motioned into the shadows.  “Your own servants did not know what I was asking for.”

His eyebrow went up.  “Plain soap.  That is what all this is about?”

Laun shrugged and motioned to the harbor.  “Ahh...  In the quest to find good Midlands soap, I found everything in this room is from Rosemond.”   Laun tilted her head and knew she was pushing it as she said, “Perhaps even their puppet king?”

Another snort and a sneer was on Falmir’s lips.  “You don’t pull punches.”

“Oh, I have, my Lord Falmir.”  She smiled and put her hand against his again.  He moved his hand, the thumb still hooked over his belt, and held hers in his.

Hand in hand is how the wisemen found them.  Bregnan walked between the servants and stopped.  He paused, seeing the King holding hands with the bitch who had taken Lady Hellon’s place at Salam-Dir.  And now it looked like she had found an even better place.

Laun turned at the motion of the servants.  She gripped the hand she held tightly.  Falmir looked down and then followed her eyes.

“Bregnan.  What are you doing here?”

The wiseman bowed and stepped closer.  “I heard that your Lady guest was possibly in need of my attendance.”

Laun had not let go of Falmir’s hand.  He could see her gripping her skirt tight and the muscles along her jaw were working hard.  The actual look on her face was calm and if he had not been at the angle he was, he would not have been able to tell that she was in distress.

“My Lady is not in need of your attendance at the moment, Bregnan.  You are not needed here.”  Falmir was trying to sound calm and reasonable, but there was a tone that should have told the wiseman to go away.

Instead, Bregnan stepped closer, to the edge of the table.  His eye went to the milk and his hands came together as he started to lean.  “Ah, but one in such a delicate condition-” He seemed to be reaching for her over the table, the tone of his voice anything but reassuring as a wiseman should be.

Her voice was quiet and flat, as calm as she could make it with the fear and rage flowing through her.  “Leave me.”

There were eyes from the ranks of the servants on the wiseman, one set of which saw a small twist of fingers at Bregnans’ inside cuff as the unnatural lean went further, almost touching the far side of the table in the sycophantic guise of offering help.  “You are hysterical, Lady.  I know better how you need-“

Laun had not been able to contain herself any more.  The acid that had instantly crawled up her throat at the sight of the man gave her enough ammunition that she did not just spit once, she spat twice at him, hitting him in the eye both times.  Ali had been both a good and bad influence.

Bregnan tried to move forward, but the table was in the way.  “You whore!”  Laun’s spittle ran down his face, a slime showing the true nastiness of the man it was on.  His hands were out from his sleeves, rage in the shape of the hands reaching for her.

Falmir turned, breaking their handhold.  “Bregnan.”  He took a step and was beside the quickly cowering wiseman.  “The Lady Laun may be with my Father’s side, but you have no right to come in here and insult her.”

Bregnan held his hands out to the sides, palm up with some of the spittle he had wiped off, as he tried to straighten up.  “Your Majesty, she surprised me.”

Laun saw a flash of a smile on Falmir’s face before he said, “She has done that to many of us.”  He put a hand on Bregnan’s arm and pulled at him.  “I do not believe that the Lady wishes your presence.  Leave.”

The wiseman grimaced and tried to make it into a smile.  “As you wish, Your Majesty.”  He tried to make a bow, but Falmir’s hand pulled him away and to the door of the room.

Laun turned and looked out the window.  She tried to compose herself, but the shock of seeing Bregnan that close was too much.  She started to cry.

Falmir came back into the room to find Laun’s head against the glass of the window, sobs shaking her shoulders and tears going down her red cheeks.  She had a hand over her mouth and another on her belly.

Falmir was torn.  The implacable Lady Laun had been broken by his wiseman just coming into the room.  But... There was some history between them that he did not know about.  His wiseman did take journeys away from the Palace often to gather information and medical knowledge.  Falmir rarely paid the man much attention, except when he needed advice, or someone was in need of his medical talents.

“Lady...?”  He stood next to her and then sat on the bench.

She did not turn away.  She did not try to cover her tears.  There was pain on her face that was deeper than just embarrassment.  She took her hand from her mouth and she gasped in before a small sob came out.  “I-I apologize.  He...”  She sobbed again and closed her eyes briefly.

“How do you know him?”

The sad look in her eye turned to incredulity. It was as if what he had just said was the stupidest thing he could have said.  But what she softly said to him was, “Bregnan was my Master’s wiseman, or that was what he let Lord Vami think.  He was always working for you, working against the nobles.  He was the one who brought word of your treacherous Festival, and who killed Lady Hellon.”

Falmir blinked.  She was still looking at him, but the look had more pain in it as she had mentioned Lady Hellon.  He remembered that Lady.  She very rarely came to court, and usually had a few servants with her.  She had been beautiful, but unremarkable other than that.  He did remember the small scandal that happened after she left one of the Northern Festivals suddenly, and the death of one of the nobles who had attended.  And his nephew...  But that was years ago.

And he remembered the plan.  It seemed all numbers and a push to power.  He was driven to attain the throne.  The plan he had created to clearcut the old nobles, putting his people on all the lands.  He had let others take parts of the plan and do them.  Bregnan had been one of them.  He could believe that Bregnan could kill.

Falmir glanced out the window, not seeing what was past the glass, but not wanting to see the pain in his... Daughters face.  It was true pain.  He had seen the women of the court try to gain his affections with stories of troubles, the false tears rolling on command.  They never had the redness of eye, the slight wetness of nose that Laun had at that moment.  He could feel that there was more to the sadness, the upset, than what was showing.  She was trying to hide her feelings, but there was too much and what he saw was a glimpse into her heart.

He waved his hand as if to dismiss the conversation.  “The past.”  He looked at her and said, “What did the servants come up with?”

Laun sighed and wiped her face on the sleeve of the white dress.  The sleeve fell back as she rubbed her eyes and he saw scar tracings going up her forearm.

“Sire, only the servant I sent to the stables had come back before you...entered.”  Laun looked into the shadows and said, “Have the others come?”

Three servants came forward, each with soaps in their hands.  Laun motioned to the table with the scattered playing pieces and the soaps were put within her reach before they stepped back.

Smiling at each in turn, Laun said, “Thank you for your speed and attendance.”  All three of the girls smiled back.

Falmir looked at the soaps, hardly noticing the servants.  “For this?”

Laun picked up the cake of soap rounded with use on the horses in the royal stables.  She put it to her nose and smelled a little musky horse, but mostly the clear, clean scent of the tallow soap.  She motioned to Falmir and he took the soap.  “This, Lord Falmir, is what I wanted.”

He had a flash of his warding.  His stint in the stables, washing and brushing the horses until their hides shone.  It had felt like it was beneath him, but the training had turned out to be useful through the years.  His father had created a system that worked.

Laun was smelling the laundry soap.  It was filled with lanolin and lavender, a soap to keep the woolens of the Palace soft and in good repair.  Falmir took it from her hand, smelled it and felt comforted, as if his favorite cape had just been drawn around his shoulders.

Her head was tilted slightly, watching him.  She had the lye soap from the kitchens in her hand, the harsh scent and crumble of the cake leaving a slightly greasy feeling on the skin.  Falmir did not like the harshness or the feeling on his fingers, but he could see where it would get through the dirt of anything.

“And you would prefer this to what was here?”

Laun nodded.  “I am a simple girl, sire.  I have used the oils and ointments, and have greatly enjoyed them.  But now is not the time.”  She looked wistful for a moment.  “I will regret the paper flowers.”

It took him a moment to understand what she was saying.  “Even those come from them?”  She nodded.

There were a few moments of quiet between them.  Laun watched Falmir’s face as he looked out the window.  The afternoon sun was starting to put him into profile.  And, yes, he was handsome.  Even as flashes of rage went through him, his mostly calm face was still pleasant to look at.  She found that her hand was going towards his cheek and did not stop it.

“Sire?”

His hand went up to hers and held it to his cheek for a moment.  “You are still a thorn in my side, Lady.”  Their clasped hands fell and he held her hand to his chest.  He looked down and took in the scars around her wrist, the lines on her forearms.  “I just hope there isn’t another like you out there.”

Laun had something click inside her mind.  “You did like to play when you were younger.”  It was softly said, but Falmir winced at what was behind it.

She tightened her grip slightly and then slid her hand down his chest.  “I am taking too much of your time.  Please.  I know you have papers to go over that are in need of your attention.”

He shot her a look that she read as a confirmation.  “I would rather argue with you than go over that damned stuff.  It never stops.”

Laun nodded.  “Too many people who think that they are the only ones who need your attention.  And it is never something that can be dealt with directly.  Unless you tell them no.  And then...”  Laun shook her head.

“You have to deal with this, too?”  He was surprised.

“Somewhat.  Every leader has a different way to handle it.  The stress is always there.  But...”  Laun blushed.  She could not stop it and she looked away for a moment.

“But?  You cannot stop there!  You have a way of dealing with the stress that I would not understand?”

Laun had a wide, toothsome smile.  Her eyes crinkled at the corners and her eyes were bright as she looked back at him.  “Several ways, and none of them have to do with needlework.”

He laughed and she had a few low chortles come out.  “I think I have a head you sent me to prove one of your hobbies.”

Laun’s lip twitched.  “I only did what I had to, sire.  Harcem had been the one to lead the bandits who came to kill my family at the Keep.  Twice.”

He lifted his eyebrow.  “I didn’t even know his name.  How?”

He saw something in her eye, something that was both appealing and deadly as she looked him straight in the eye.  “It is what I do, sire.”  She reached to her hair, but seemed disappointed that it was down.

Falmir took in a deep breath and let it out through his nose.  “You are right.  I should be getting back to the matters of state.”  He grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips.  “You still will not pledge to me?”

Laun shook her head.  “Sire, I have already pledged my hand and sword to Dreng.”

His eye went to the hand in his.  There was a slight shake to his head as he said, “You are quite unusual.”  He looked slightly sideways into her eyes.  “You are my favorite thorn, Daughter.”

Laun bowed her head.  He stood, still holding her hand for just a moment before turning away.

Before he went through the servants to the door, he turned.  “I wish to have you at my table for evening meal.  Dress appropriately.”  He had dropped into his noble voice.  The one that he used when he needed to command the audience around him.

Laun bowed her head again.  She smiled as she raised her head and saw a flash of a smile on him before he left.

Laun started to pick the Sticks up off the table.  The servant she had been playing with came forward and knelt to pick up the playing pieces.  The girl looked up and then glanced behind her before she quietly asked, “Are you really his daughter?”

Laun nodded and smiled.  This was the first servant of the Palace that had ventured to talk with her without Laun ordering them to talk.  This showed promise.

The Sticks were back in the bag and on the table.  Next to the soaps.  And the story book.

Laun was not entirely surprised that Falmir had not seen the book, or at least had not commented on it.  Things that were important in childhood often were forgotten when the next thing came along.  With the fingerprints she had seen on some of the pages, he probably still knew the story by heart.

“How much time until your King tends to have evening meal?”

One of the men stepped forward and quietly said, “He calls for it around five chimes.  Sometimes later.”

“And it is now...?”

“Almost two chimes, Lady.”

Laun smiled.  “Some time, then.”  She reached for the book and opened it on the ribbon.  She read a passage and smiled.

Without looking up, Laun said, “If it is possible, I will be taking a bath in a little bit.  After all that fuss and all.”  She looked up and smiled at the closest servant.  “Will need something other than this night dress.  If something...light and clean could be found, I would really appreciate it.  And if it was made in the Midlands, that would be even better.”

Onto Chapter 13.  Shall it be lucky 13?