the Leathermines

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The nooning meal had been drawn out as people came in, ate and left to go back to their jobs of the day.  As the benches and tables were brought back into the Great Hall from Lady Hellon’s Hill, the formality of the room became more pronounced.  The chatelaine did not entirely approve.

She had been able to leave the kitchens for about an hour and take a nap, well deserved she thought.  The boar was stuck on a spit over the main hearth, it’s hide already skinned, scraped and being salted for tanning later.  The sundries that were to go with it were minor compared to the hassle it had been to get the spit up again.

Orgia swore under her breath at the raiders that had come into her kitchen and broken many of the things she needed to keep the household fed.  This was just the last one they had found, and having been interrupted by the wardsman in the middle of the night at the King’s approach had just driven the point deeper in her heart.

The kitchens were not her only domain.  She ran the whole house.  Had for years.  But no true noble household was run without great kitchens.  She was feeling too old to start collecting more of the things that had made her kitchen the envy of all but the King’s.  But she still had the King to feed.  At least that night, they were to feast.

As she had woken from her nap, an arrangement of the tables occurred to her that might satisfy the King and his men and still allow the freedom that she had seen grow in the household.

As night approached, a sense of urgency was in the air.  The tables had been arranged as Orgia had seen in her mind, T shapes that made four smaller head tables at the edges of the Great Hall, the interlocking nature making none of them more or less important.  No banners were on the walls marking the Salam-Dir status.  Lanterns and torches, yes, but nothing of the circle and talon.  It was not time, yet.  Though Orgia had set aside a trunk with the household’s heraldry when Lady Laun was ready to take it up.

Many of the household came through the Great Hall on their way to the rooms they had found or reclaimed for themselves.  They knew the difference of that night and many of them took an effort to dress as they would if their Lady Hellon or Lord Vami had been entertaining.  The formal nature of a noble’s gathering was different than the last weeks’.  Some fell into the roles they had been in for years very easily.  Which meant many of the attitudes Laun had been working against were coming back up to the surface.

When Laun had come back from being alone, she found smiles and nods towards her from the people working to clear the road.  She also saw more of the wardsmen and dancers that were training to protect the land along the edge of the group than usual.  She had missed noon meal, but had found some fruit and mint along her walk to satisfy her at that moment.  A pair of the protectors came to her and asked if she needed anything.

Laun looked at the woman and the man and shook her head.  She put a hand on their shoulders and noticed that they both had stains on their arms that looked like grass stains.  Laun looked down and saw the mud and other stains on her legs and tunic.  She smiled at the two and turned towards the keep, not knowing they had been the ones that had found and followed her as she sought aloneness.  As she made her way back to the keep, she was still followed by protectors, not unseen but not obvious.

Subdued was the way Laun saw the people who were in the Great Hall.  She felt something out of place as she touched shoulders, but was not sure if it was her or them.  She made her way to the room she had slept in, hopes that the chests she had seen might have some clothes a little cleaner than what she had on.

The room was dark as the East facing window was now in shadow and the lanterns that had glowed the night before were dead.  There was still water in the pitcher and Laun was able to find a cloth and wash her face and hands.  She sat on the floor and pulled the boots off, feeling a familiar tear of skin on one ankle.  The blister had formed without Laun paying attention as she had been working on her inner pains, not her outer ones.

A shuffle outside the door drew her attention.  One of the dancers and a younger wardsman was there, both carrying armfuls of things.

“Disa sent us, La-  Laun.”

The youth had brought oil for the lamps and started to fill and light the wall lamps.  Laun accepted the hand up from Kelli and felt the odd feeling through that touch.  Kelli hung up a few things on a hook and waited.

Laun was getting quicker in reading the oddness that she had felt.  “Kelli, what do you need from me?”

Kelli glanced towards the door and shrugged.  She unconsciously went to cover her bare breasts as she looked back to her Lady.

Laun moved to touch Kelli’s shoulder and went past the flinch she saw in the dancer.  As Disa had gathered Laun in, Laun folded her arms around the dancer and just held her.  The wardsman came out of the sleeping area and almost backed off when he saw the two women, Kelli starting to sob into Laun’s shoulder.

Laun caught at the wardsman’s sleeve and pulled him to them.  Ben was not the tallest or strongest of the youths brought to the household for training, but he was strong enough and sensitive.  His arms went around both of the women and just held them as Kelli had frustrations and hurt come out.

They moved to the edge of the bedding in the sleeping area. Kelli was between them as she tried to say what was happening inside her.  A few false starts through sobs and tears before she said, “I liked being free.”

Laun pulled Kelli’s head up and looked into her eyes.  “I did free you.  You are welcome to stay or go or do as you wish.”  Kelli put her hand over Laun’s on her cheek and barely nodded.  Laun looked up at Ben and saw a reddening around his eyes.  Laun moved her hand to his cheek, seemingly allowing one tear to escape from the corner of his eye.

“What happened?”  Laun felt a protective rush go through her.  Kelli would not look her in the eyes and Laun did not want to force the dancer to look up.  Ben also would not look at Laun, but did when his Lady’s hand stroked down his cheek and brought his chin up.

His voice cracked slightly, from adolescence more than emotion.  “A few of the older men were with the nobles and...”  He glanced down at Kelli’s breast, not with lust, but at a series of small bruises that were coloring her tanned skin.

Kelli said softly, “They said if I bared myself as a slave, then I should be treated as one.”  The tears started again and Kelli’s hands covered her breasts and the finger bruises on them.

Ben had seen what had happened.  It was in a side corridor as the nobles were being escorted from one area to another in the castle.  Ben told of the wardsman who reached out and forcibly pulled in the dancer to the group as she was carrying things through the household.  She dropped something, it had broken and the men had all laughed, leaving Kelli to clean it up.

“Who...?  No.  It doesn’t matter.  Kelli-” Laun tilted her own head to be able to look into Kelli’s eyes.  “I know what I want to do, but what do you want to have done?”

That stopped Kelli’s sobbing, or at least calmed it down.  She had not thought of anything before, the ingrained slave mentality submerging any actionable thoughts.  She shrugged and leaned into Ben’s shoulder.  “I just want to dance and serve the household and you, My La- Laun.”  Kelli looked up and had an earnest look on her face.

“That explains the difference in the household...”  Laun sat up straight and looked at nothing in particular for a moment.

They could hear people in the halls as they were gathering for the evening.  The footsteps were going towards the Great Hall and Laun thought she heard a bell in the distance.  It was close to the time Orgia was to feed the household.  Laun looked at the tunic she wore and knew what she wanted to do.

“Are you well enough to help me dress?”  Kelli nodded.  Ben moved to leave and Laun shook her head.  “Your hands and council are needed, Ben.  Please do not go, unless you have a more pressing need.”

Ben shook his head.

Kelli did not have the skills Disa had in dressing or putting Launs’ hair up, but Laun was pleased with what the three of them did in a short amount of time.  Ben had absolutely no idea how to help with the clothing, but when Laun asked him to help strap belts on, his hands did not hesitate.

Laun was glad for the clothing that evening as the storm she had seen in the distance was pushing cold winds before it.  She was not completely covered, as she saw in her mind what she wanted others to see as she came into the Great Hall that night.  Ben and Kelli followed at a pace behind her and stayed there as she stopped to touch and greet the few people in the corridors that had not gathered in the Great Hall yet.

Bare feet touched the rushes that had been laid on the floor of the Great Hall for this gathering, the sweet smell of the green plants covering the headiness of the working sweat most brought that night.  Laun started around the room, stopping at almost every pace forward to greet the next person, to ask how their day went and touch them in some way.

Glances were hardly avoided and Laun would catch the eyes with hers and smile.  She knew what they were looking at, something that had been hidden from view for enough time that most had put it out of their minds.  And she would move onto the next of her people.

Two of the nobles were standing next to the far fireplace and saw Laun slowly coming towards them.  They stared at her over the heads of the other men around them, not sure what to do.  Dreng noticed the inattention of his men and turned on the bench to see.

Laun had dressed for effect.  More, she was undressed for effect.  Multiple, floating skirts moved around her legs, catching on the rushes as she turned.  Her arms and chest were bare, except for a cloth that ran over her shoulder, between the breasts and was securely belted in underneath.  The cloth was slightly twisted in to show all the scars on her shoulders, her chest.  A thong had been threaded through her hair to keep it back, but still grazed her shoulders as she nodded to those around her.  As she turned, Dreng saw a blade at the small of her back, hilt down towards her butt in the sheath.

A low comment was made by one of the nobles who were staring at Laun.  It was low in voice and low in nature.  Dreng rounded on the man and quietly said, “That woman is not a red scarf, Niles.  She is the Lady of this keep.”  Dreng stood and faced the noble levelly.  “Consider her my blood.”

It took a few more minutes for Laun to make her way to the King’s side.  He held out his hand to her and kissed the fingertips that were offered.  The noble that had been dressed down bowed the lowest to her as she greeted each one of them.  One of the wardsman who had attached himself to the nobles looked nervous as she came to him.

Laun knew.  She did not say anything to him as she looked at his slightly too quiet and stiff demeanor.  He tried to not look at her, but the scars on her chest would keep drawing his eyes to her.  She reached up to his cheek with a gentle hand.  The impulse was to slap him, to cause him pain as he had caused pain in Kelli.  Instead, she coaxed his head down to her level and kissed his other cheek.

A quiet had gone over the Great Hall when Laun had approached the wardsman as many knew what had happened.  A few hands went to blades, a few steps towards Gismar until they saw her actions.  Their Lady had surprised them often.  Her forgiveness was of the gentle nature she had always had as Peach, and now as Lady Laun, it was nobility.  They saw, most did not understand.  But they saw her draw away from the wardsman who had injured Kelli.  They saw the wide stare from him as he could not contain his confusion.  They saw as the strength went from his legs and he knelt, taking her hand from his cheek to kiss it.

Gismar had not been on the riverbank the morning many of the household had pledged themselves.  He had gone the other way to have time by himself, to think of the merchant family he had not seen for years before the Festival.  The word had been that they had been caught in one of the skirmishes out of Falmir’s land and that he was alone.  They had bought his rank, his warding, to bring the family higher in station.  His mother had pushed him to become more like what she thought a noble was.  Grasping for power and money.  Align with those who could bring him higher.  He had been thinking of leaving at that moment to ally himself with Falmir as the Household was running from the coup.

The wardsman now thought he saw the error, the wrongness of that thought.  And he felt the fool for not seeing the strength in the leader that he was kneeling to.  He had been trying to show the older nobles that he was like them, using the dancer to show how he could use his callousness to bring him seemingly greater power.

Dreng watched the flash of emotions go across the young man’s face as he knelt there in front of the calm and silent Lady Laun.  She had allowed the man to punish himself.  That was something Dreng had done, but never with the compassion he saw in her.  She had asked for his teachings, yet this young woman was teaching him.

Gismar put her hand on the top of his head and said, “I am your man, Lady.  As you will it, I will do.”  He felt her momentarily take a handful of his hair.  She relaxed and he then felt her stroke the top of his head.

“I accept you into me as you accept me into you.”  Laun heard the held breaths around her release and looked about.  She had been so focused that she had put the others around her out of her mind.  She seemed uncertain until the knowing nod from Dreng let her know she had done well.

A small cough at the closest kitchen door brought Laun’s head around.  Orgia was there, holding a stack of bread trenchers.  Laun nodded and a rush of kitchen staff was out and starting to serve.  The maze that the tables created slowed them down.    Most everyone had a trencher and a seat within minutes.  Laun had taken the offered arm of Dreng and they sat at a table surrounded by household people.  The other nobles moved to other tables as there was room and it did not matter right then that there was not a traditional head table.

The boar had been cooking for the day and when it came out, still on it’s spit, a cheer filled the Great Hall.  The smell of the fat dripping into the fire had been through the keep, making mouths water and stomachs growl.  The fruits and fresh cheeses passed down the tables were shared, but everyone wanted a piece of the pig.

Orgia stood with a carving knife in her hand, two of the staff holding a platter under the head of the boar.  It was still dripping hot fat as she took the cheeks of the boar and let them fall onto the platter.  It was all she carved.

The platter was taken through the crowd to Laun and Dreng.  He understood the foreshortened ceremony and speared one piece with his dagger.  It landed on his trencher, the juices soaking into the bread.  Laun was not sure what was going on, but unsheathed the knife at her back and took the other cheek when Dreng kept looking between her and the meat.

Dreng cut off a small slice and did not have to feign pleasure as he ate it.  Laun followed suit on her piece and felt the meat almost melt in her mouth.  She thanked the kitchen staff as they moved away.  The rest of the boar was butchered and sent around the room.

Laun could feel the household relax around her.  Conversations flowed and she ate well, prompted by Dreng who seemed to give her the best morsels from his trencher.  The fresh ale that had been made in the first week was passed, the newness still bitter, but cleansing on that night.  A song started at one table and spread.  Dreng looked surprised and pleased at the same time.  He tried to join in, but he missed words, and some of the notes, and just stopped with a laugh.

The rain was softer that night, but it was much colder than the thunderstorm the night before.  The summer heat was being leached from the stones.  The people inside were aware that it was getting chilly, but with fires and lanterns and companionship, it was not as obvious as to the people who were on watch outside.  The changing protectors in teams of two, bundled against the cold, sat where there was shelter or walked where there was not.  One team walked the road between the others, bringing news between, and trenchers piled with food from within.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened while the protectors were watching.  The rain came down, making the world sodden around them.  They learned the noises of the night in the rain, once panicking when a tree that had not quite fallen from the storm before followed through, taking other trees with it.  The noise was loud, and the people on watch investigated.  News of the treefall was passed as the protectors changed out, the communication important for the telling, not the news.

One of the people who chose to be on watch for most of the night sat alone on one of the large oaks that had fallen, wrapped up against the cold and rain in a wool cloak, his heat steaming out into the night.  Edgar had taken himself away from the household, masking his actions in duty.  He could see lights reflected in the rain from the keep, knowing that there was warmth inside.  He just could not face Laun, not yet.

He hadn’t seen his actions before clearly.  The chaos of the coup and his Lady Laun coming with the news.  So vulnerable, but with the determination to keep the household moving, together, protected.  The night at the Inn.  He had seen her react to him.  He had pushed it and pushed too far.  It was not his position to hold.  But it had felt right until then.

When Fount had approached him...  It seemed reasonable at the time.  Not quite a bet, but a common understanding between the men.  The rules had been set between them.  Laun might have guessed if she thought about it, but they had not told her.  It was between them.  And Edgar had almost torn through that understanding because of the dream of morning that shook his self control.  He was almost ten years her senior.  He was not going to apologize for seeing her as the ripe fruit she was.  And as he had awoken with her in his arms that morning, her scent had been intoxicating, her skin...

He had to get up and walk.  Clear his mind.  Edgar had been able to follow her lead and ignore.  She had seemed welcoming, but the hesitation as they had looked into each other’s eyes had saved her.  Possibly saving them both.  And Fount had been beside him, probably awake to hear her sighs.

No wonder the young man had been able to chop up most of a grove of fallen trees by himself.  Edgar knew the feelings the shy youth had.  He had opened up and outright told his senior wardsman of what Laun could only possibly guess at.  Though...  Edgar stopped and listened through the rain.  She seemed to understand more than even those she kept close might know.

He wondered if she would understand Nan.

Edgar had been out in the rain for several changes of the watch and finally was cold and tired enough that he had to go inside.  He checked in with the protectors on watch and sent the team napping by the Great Hall door out to replace him.  The boar had been taken back into the kitchen to use the bones in the large stock pots that seemed to always be boiling on the hearths.  A few trenchers remained on the tables, but that was about it.  Two small groups were left in the Great Hall, one at each fire.  Edgar grabbed a trencher that had soaked up meat juices and sat with one of the groups.

He was the most sober of all the people around the fire.  The ale had done it’s job and done it well.  Stories of home life before the Festival were told, Lord Vami or Lady Hellon the jewel of the tales.  Bawdy stories of sexual conquests brought rivalry and laughter out.  Toasts of the remaining ale were given to the new Lady of the house and her forgiving ways.

That was when Edgar heard of both the molestation and the consequences.  The pride in their Lady, even slurred, was in the description of Gismar’s manhandling of Kelli, and the gentle way Laun had just kissed the wardsman on the cheek.  Tankards and mugs were raised and Lady Laun’s name was a cheer around the fire that was echoed from the other end of the room.  They hardly noticed as Edgar excused himself from the group and left the Great Hall and the late revelers.

There was only one hook left when Edgar came to the anti-chamber.  A lamp on the wall was low, almost guttering, but there was enough light to be able to find all his buckles and disrobe.  There was a chill air coming in from the corridor under the door, but that was pushed away as he came into the sleeping area.  His skin was cold.  He felt the heat of the people in the bedding before he could make them out in the low lamp light.  A flower petal from the wilting bouquet above the mat landed on his bare shoulder causing a shiver to go through him.

He saw a place that did not have a body and carefully climbed over others to get there.  He sat and found that a blanket was being held back for him by someone he did not recognize immediately in the dark.  Bodies shifted, a warm arm went across his chest and a leg went over his, from different sides.  The contrast of his cold skin touching warm made him realize he had been literally shaking off the cold.  His muscles calmed down and he relaxed.  As he fell asleep, the calming stroke of fingers on his head told him he had been forgiven.

Chapter 21   A foundling comes in after the storms, and Laun shows her true temper

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