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Chapter Eight

Posted on Monday, 1 December 2003

Word of the tragedy on the Bents’ estate soon reached Charles. He had the unenviable and rather risky task of informing the Prince. He put it off for a whole day, trying to think of a way to soften the blow. Finally, he decided to get it over with. He packed a saddlebag with liquor and invited the Prince out for a ride. He didn’t want to be within hearing distance of anyone.

Will reluctantly rode through the countryside with him. Charles had said he urgently needed to speak with him. Will was in his usual foul mood. He missed Lyssa, worried about the northern situation, and was thoroughly fed up with the court.

When Charles reached a location isolated enough for his satisfaction, he dismounted and sat beneath a tree.

“Sit down,” he told the Prince.

“I’d prefer to pace, thank you,” Will curtly replied.

“Sit down,” Charles repeated more firmly.

Startled at his tone of voice, Will sat down.

“I don’t know how to make this easier. There probably is no way.” Charles paused, wishing on all the stars in the heavens that he did not have to do this, that the news had been false. “I’ve learned of some very bad news.”

Will’s face already registered fear. There was only one reason why Charles would bring him all the way out here, away from the castle and its prying ears, to tell him bad news.

“Oh dear heavens above!” he whispered. “Tell me Lyssa is all right.”

Charles’ face gave him no hope. “She was killed in a stable fire.”

Shaking his head, Will whispered, “No. No no no no no.” Then more firmly he said, “No! She’s not. There must be some mistake. She’s smart; she wouldn’t get herself killed like that.”

Charles hesitated, unsure if he should tell him of his last conversation with Lyssa. “Will, I have some suspicions that it was not an accident.”

Will looked at him in horror and fury. “Someone murdered her?”

“No, they would not have killed her. They wanted her alive. For this reason, I think she did it herself.”

“No!” he shouted, leaping his feet. “No, she would not have done that.”

“She told me she would.”

“What?”

“When I last spoke to her, I warned her of the danger she was in and she posed. She told me she would kill herself before letting herself get captured.”

“How could you let her think something like that?!” he yelled at his friend.

“I tried to persuade her against it, Will.”

Will paused, his laboured breathing coming fast in pants. He calmed himself. “No,” he said quietly. “She wouldn’t have killed herself.”

“Will, you must accept this.”

“No! You don’t know her like I do! You don’t know her!!” His voice dropped to an intense softness. “I did. By the heavens and my birthright, I did. And the Lyssa I love would not have taken the easy way out.”

He began to pace while Charles wisely kept his silence, pitying his friend from the bottom of his heart.

“Tell me what you heard,” Will commanded. “Every word of it.”

“Lyssa had come back late from making deliveries in the village. The family were all within when they heard the sound of frightened horses. They went outside to discover the stable in flames and Lyssa going in and out rescuing the horses. She got all but one out. She went in for the last one and never…” Charles voice broke, “and never came out again.”

“Which horse was left?”

“I don’t know, Will.”

“The seal,” he said. “She always wore it. Did they find it in the ashes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fine.” Will mounted his horse.

“Wait a minute! Where are you going?” Charles said in surprise, grabbing hold of Will’s reigns to prevent him from leaving.

“I’m going to Lyssa’s house.”

“You can’t, Will.”

“I have to find out.”

“Will, this is mad! You’re upset, I understand that. Look, I have some ferment here-“

“No, I’m not mad!” Will snapped. “Listen, Charles! If she was in that fire, the seal will be there. It cannot be destroyed by fire. She must have taken Firefly and fled! That’s what my Lyssa would do. Everyone will believe her dead and won’t come after her.”

“If you believe that, then I’ll go. You can’t leave the castle at this time. Not only would it endanger any current proceedings, it would also bring much attention to your destination. If Lyssa has escaped, then she should be safe. But if they figure out that she escaped and hasn’t died, then her family may be used. You must think, man! You can’t go.”

Will slouched dejectedly, acknowledging Charles’ reasoning. He couldn’t go.

“Very well. You go. I want you to go to that stable, and comb every single ash of that building with a sieve and fine-toothed comb. You come back with that seal and with the name of the horse that did not come out with her!”

Charles mounted his horse.

“Oh!” Will thought of something else. “Find out if my letters are still there and bring them back to me if they are. She kept them in a wooden box she carved herself. It should be in her room. And find out from her father how much of the money I left them is still there. She would have taken it with her.”

Will’s fervent, passionate excitement fuelled Charles’ own hope that Lyssa yet lived.

“One more thing,” Will added. “If you should find enough evidence to suggest that she lives, don’t let her family suspect it. Jane and her father may know, but not the others. And find out from Jane as much as you can. Lyssa confides in Jane, and you can surely get Jane to confide in you.”

“Will, if she does live, and she has fled, where would she have gone?”

Will’s horse pranced restlessly, the beast sensing Will’s impatience. “She’ll leave Shire, almost certainly. She’s probably gone to the hermit in Tatton. I will find her.”

Will set off for the castle at a gallop, not looking to see if Charles followed.

Charles blackened his hands for a whole day looking for the seal. He was already heartened to learn from Lida that Firefly was indeed the horse lost to the fire. Lida was unexpectedly sobered by the incident. To be sure, the entire family was still in mourning for their loss.

After the first day of no success, Charles felt more hope rising within him. In the evening, he asked Jane to walk with him.

She was silent and grave for some time. Charles didn’t know how to begin questioning her. He was afraid of tripping over his tongue, afraid of offending her, afraid of making the pain of loss worse.

Finally, Jane asked in her soft, gentle voice, “What are you looking for in the ashes?”

“The seal she always wore around her wrist.”

“You won’t find it there.”

A thought suddenly occurred to him. She may have given it to someone for safekeeping. If she had known she would die in the fire, she may not have worn it then.

“Y-you don’t have it, do you? Will needs it.”

“No, I don’t have it. It is not here.”

Charles grabbed her hands. “Jane,” he whispered. “Tell me. Where is she?”

Jane shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

Again, she shook her head sadly.

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Do you know where she is? Where she’s going?”

Jane shook her head.

Charles didn’t say anything for a while. He absently rubbed his thumb over the back of her soft, small hands. “Did she love Will?”

“More than anything,” Jane sighed.

Charles nodded, satisfied. “I need you to do me one favour.”

“If I can.”

“Will asked me to bring back the box of his letters to her. Can you find them in her room and give them to me?”

“I’ll look.”

Charles, no longer able to resist, tenderly pulled her into his arms, and held her to him as he bent to place his cheek against hers. He treated her as if she were as fragile as a butterfly. She was the sweetest soul he had ever known. She stood in stark contrast to the rest of his dangerous warrior’s world. He whispered, “I must go in the morning. Will is probably worrying himself sick. But I shall return again as soon as I am able. Things are difficult at the castle right now.”

She sighed what sounded like a contented, happy sigh. After a moment, “Can you not tell me what is wrong?”

“Not now. Next time. The less you know, the safer you are.”

She now sighed out of resigned frustration. “I know.”

After a pause, Charles gently asked, “Why didn’t she want me to know?”

Jane hesitated before admitting, “She didn’t want anyone to follow her.”

“Did she say when she was coming back?”

Jane turned her head to rest her cheek against his shoulder, resting her forehead against his warm neck. “When the trouble is over.”

“She didn’t tell you where she was going?”

Jane shook her head. “Charles, don’t let Will go after her until it’s all over.”

“He’s difficult to manage, but I will do my very best.”

“Don’t use force on him, use reason. Just explain to him why. He’s not irrational or stupid.”

“No, thank goodness he is not. Though we have proof enough of his rashness.”

They were silent for several minutes, listening to the cold breeze rustling through the trees. Charles nearly didn’t hear her breathe in the softest of voices, “I’m frightened for her.”

Charles held her tighter, reaching a hand up to stroke her fair hair. “She’s proven herself capable so often. I have faith in her stubbornness to survive.”

“I’m frightened for you, too,” she timidly added.

Charles felt a swell of emotion fill him. He lifted his head to see her face. She avoided his eyes, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Using a finger under her chin, he made her look at him. “That makes me very happy.” He bent and gently kissed her. He lingered, then pulled away. He paused, making sure she wasn’t angry with him, then returned to kiss her several more times, before gently moving his lips to kiss her cheeks, nose and closed eyes. He stopped when he felt her trembling in his arms.

After several moments, he said, “We should be returning to your house. I need to get some rest for a long ride tomorrow.” He paused before saying, “I promise to return when I am able.”

“I will wait for you,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry you’re the one who always seems to be left behind,” he said with a small laugh.

“I don’t mind so much. I’m a good deal more patient than Lyssa is, anyway.”

Charles reluctantly released her from his arms. He captured her hand in his as they leisurely walked back to the house. “Is there anything your family needs? I can help you.”

“We are fine, thank you,” she replied. “We have had a good harvest.”

“I am glad.”

“Just… fix this trouble that no one will tell me about.”

“I’m sure you will hear of it soon from the villagers. I will tell you right now that the northern provinces have rebelled against the King.”

Jane looked aghast at him. She never imagined they could do such a thing.

“Now you understand the grave nature of the trouble.”

Jane nodded.

When they reached the house, Charles went to speak briefly with Master Bent while Jane looked for the box of letters he had requested. She informed him of their absence when he went to the guest room for the night. Jane was the only one awake when Charles left. He kissed her and promised once more to return.

Lyssa was half frozen when she and Firefly walked out of the mountains. They had survived the pass merely by the grace of the weather. Numb with exhaustion, Lyssa eventually found a shepherd’s cabin. She nearly didn’t see it due to its camouflaged appearance. It was made of stone and looked like it was just a snow bluff. The door was only just large enough for Firefly to stoop through as Lyssa walked inside.

She fumbled building the fire, her hands clumsy from minor frostbite. She managed after many tries and feebly fed the fire until it was a modest blaze. Gradually, feeling returned to the extremities of her body. It was painful. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she struggled with the straps on Firefly’s tack.

Firefly and Lyssa remained in this shelter for five days. When they emerged, it was hunger that drove them out. Lyssa found a village from which to purchase food, and then found the coast again. She felt like she had been through three seasons, and as many months.

The cliffs were still high. She lingered at one lonely vista, where a waterfall flowed over the rocks and into the sea below. A rickety wooden fence ran along the edge of the cliffs in an effort to prevent the foolish from perishing on the treacherous precipice.

Lyssa spurred Firefly on, anticipating many days before they reached their destination. Her plan, however unpromising, was to take refuge in the shrine, Mont Karmle. She had heard of it once from a pilgrim passing through the village. It had been several years ago, but Lyssa occasionally wondered about it.

The pilgrim had explained that he was on a spiritual journey to Mont Karmle. He said it consisted of a community of women, called Dedicates, who devoted their lives to caring for the shrine and receiving the pilgrims who made the long, arduous journey. Lyssa remembered him saying something about it being an island that one had to walk to. She was sure she hadn’t remembered correctly. Or else he had been misinformed.

Nevertheless, Lyssa felt that she could go to this shrine and ask for sanctuary. There, she intended to wait until … well, until she felt it was safe to leave.

The difficulty, however, was finding the shrine. She knew it was in the Gulf of Eos on the eastern coast, and she was still on the southern coast. Eventually, she knew she would reach it if she just continued following the shoreline.

It took her two weeks before she began to work her way north along the eastern coast. It was still a rather hilly terrain, though not quite so elevated as the mountain range she had crossed. The weather continued to get colder, so Lyssa was quite surprised to come across an outcrop of yellow flowers on a hilltop. Upon reaching the crest of the hilltop, she was even more surprised to discover a beautiful lagoon below.

She and Firefly stopped to look down upon the beautiful vista, her breath quite taken away by the sight. If it weren’t for her chattering teeth, Lyssa could almost believe that it was summer.

She guided Firefly cautiously down the slope, taking a path that would lead them to the beach. While it was tempting to try going in the water, Lyssa was wise enough to know how foolish a move that could be. Instead, they just took in the scenery before moving on.

Lyssa was very weary of traveling, and nearly without any hope of reaching the legendary Mont Karmle when the terrain began to flatten. The weather seemed harsher, the wind colder with a nasty bite to it, and the natural habitat coarser.

Lyssa came upon a fishing village nestled into a small cove that sheltered it from the sea winds. It looked like most of the inhabitants were out in their boats, but Lyssa did find one elderly woman mending nets with her knarled hands.

Lyssa asked the woman the way to Mont Karmle.

The woman replied with a question, speaking in an accent Lyssa could hardly understand. “Yera pullgrum?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Yeran’t wurrin tright close.”

“What are the right clothes for a pilgrim to wear?”

“Pullgrums weyra gone of weyt unna veel of bleck.”

“White gown and black veil?”

The old woman nodded, then stood up with a grunt, took Lyssa’s hand, and began to walk toward a house in the village, leaning on Lyssa for support. Lyssa went obediently with the old woman, who took her inside her house, and produced a sheet, which she proceeded to wrap around Lyssa in an odd fashion, until it did look like a gown. Then she took a much smaller black cloth, which felt soft and delicate to the touch, and wrapped it around Lyssa’s head, covering her hair and the bottom half of her face.

When she was finished, the old woman stepped back and looked at Lyssa, nodding her approval. Lyssa thanked the woman and began to take off the clothing to give it back. The old woman’s hands stayed her, and she shook her head, saying, “Kip em.”

“Thank you, very much,” replied Lyssa, and eventually managed to convince the old woman to take some small payment for the clothing.

As Lyssa mounted Firefly with somewhat more difficulty, the old woman gave her directions toward the shrine. According to the woman, she was only a few days away. Right before she rode out of the village, the old woman stopped her and said urgently, “Bware of duh sind.”

“The sand?”

The old woman nodded emphatically.

It was late afternoon when Lyssa spied a dark spot on the horizon of the sea. She had been keeping an eye out for it, beginning to believe that the pilgrim she had met years ago was correct in saying the shrine was on an island. She was surprised to see the spot, since she had more expected the island to be out of sight of the mainland. She felt her best hope was to look for busy fishing villages taking people to and from the island. It was dusk by the time she was close enough to see the island clearly from the mainland.

The pilgrim had been right. Lyssa gazed at a magnificent spectacle. It was a huge stone shrine on top of a small mountain, with a village around its base. Nowhere, however, could she see boats leading to the island. It seemed like a thoroughly isolated place, impossible to reach if one did not bring one’s own boat. Perhaps she should have hired a fisherman to take her to the island from that fishing village earlier. She considered going back to the village, but decided to spend the night on the mainland coast first. She had never been so weary in her life. She felt like she was worlds away from her home and Will and the mess that Shire had been in when she had left. She could firmly believe that everything would be all right now, anyway. She could well appreciate the irony of it if that were the case. Here she had taken weeks to get to her sanctuary, and when she reached it, she didn’t need it. But there was no way for Lyssa to be certain that everything was all right for her return. Even if the Northern Province situation was over, there would be plenty of other situations like it. Lyssa turned toward Mont Karmle. No, she would reach this shrine somehow, and spend some time working and relaxing there. For that was what she expected people to do at shrines.

She and Firefly bedded down for the night, soothed by the gentle lapping of the waves, which soon receded as the tide went out. In the distance, Lyssa could see the soft, flickering lights of Mont Karmle. It was frustrating to be so close to her destination, and yet still out of reach.

Lyssa woke with the sun after a long winter-night’s sleep. She rolled up her blankets and began tying them to Firefly, who had been up long before having breakfast.

A glance at Mont Karmle produced a view she was not expecting in the least. The water, which had the previous evening spanned the distance between herself and the shrine, was now only a quarter of a mile from the gate of the island. She realised that the tide must recede to the point where she could reach the island, thus explaining how people got onto it.

Standing on the beach, Lyssa stood looking out over the expanse of sand and water. She figured that by the time she and Firefly crossed the exposed sand, the tide would be full out. Then she paused. That was only if the tide was currently going out right now. If the tide had turned and was on its way back in, she and Firefly didn’t have a chance of making it without swimming. And any sea that had such a high tide as this one, would not be pleasant to swim in. Least of all in the winter. Then she recalled the old woman’s words. Beware of the sand. Lyssa didn’t know what was dangerous about the sand, but she decided to heed the woman’s words and her own doubts, and wait to cross to the shrine.

She turned back to Firefly and took off the saddlebags and blankets. Firefly, confused, looked at her quizzically for a few moments, wondering what this sudden change of mind meant, but soon went back to finding some more delectable sea grasses to eat.

Lyssa sat on the shore the whole day, watching the tide, the sea, the sand, the waves, trying to learn how to cross safely to the mount. She was very, very glad she had not gone that morning, since she had been correct in surmising that the tide might be on its way in. The speed and depth of the tide frightened her. She figured it had to be 12 lengths high, and it moved so rapidly that she was sure someone caught in the sands could be drowned if they were not careful. That was the other thing. Every now and then, Lyssa caught a bubble in the sands out of the corner of her eye. If the sand was bubbling, it meant it was very unstable. Unstable to the point of sucking a person into it. The thought made her shudder. She supposed that this was what the old woman had meant. Perhaps many pilgrims made it to this point, but never made it to the shrine.

Still, Lyssa was determined not to die at this point in her journey. She decided to ride Firefly across the sands when the tide was on its way out the following day. She knew that horses had a sixth sense that told them where they could walk.

When morning broke, Lyssa watched the tide return, then begin to recede once more. She saddled Firefly, tying her saddlebags and blankets to her hopefully for the last time, and mounted her. Adjusting the black veil and shifting her white gone, Lyssa led the horse down the grassy dune to the wet sand. Then, keeping her to a very slow walk, Lyssa rode toward Mont Karmle.

Lyssa and Firefly made it to the gates of the island with only a few close calls. She dismounted when they were on the solid rock, and led her horse through the very narrow streets of the village which wound down from the shrine at the top. The village, despite its odd location and confined existence, was just like any other village. There were craftsmen working on their trades in their workshops, stores selling wares, and people busying to and fro.

While Lyssa herself did not draw any attention, dressed as she was, Firefly did. Quite a few people stopped and stared, startled at the sight of the horse. It made Lyssa somewhat uneasy, wondering if Firefly was recognizable or something.

At one point, the village stopped, and there was just the narrow stone road leading steeply up to the gates of the shrine. Lyssa looked up at the intimidating view of the stone structure.

This was to be her home for an indefinite period of time. It definitely looked extremely secure. She couldn’t imagine any sort of threat to such a sturdy fortress.

Finally, Lyssa reached the gates. She paused, wondering if there were some guard or some other person she should see. Now that she had reached her sanctuary, she had no idea what she was going to tell the dedicates she was running from. She couldn’t very well say she was the fiancé of the Crown Prince of Shire and people were after her.

The place seemed very quiet. Much quieter than she had expected. Lyssa waited, catching her breath from the steep climb up to the shrine from the base of the mount, stroking Firefly’s mane.

After she had been waiting for a quarter of an hour, a woman dressed in a brown habit hurried down through the outer courtyard. She went by too quickly for Lyssa to call out to her, but two seconds later, the woman’s head peeked around the corner behind which she had just vanished.

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed and walked briskly towards Lyssa, her eyes wide with amazement. “Good heavens,” she repeated.

Lyssa didn’t know what to say. It seemed like she wasn’t welcome here. Perhaps pilgrims were no longer invited to the shrine.

“Whatever are you doing here, child?” asked the woman.

“I… um…” Lyssa hesitated. “I need sanctuary.”

“But… however did you get here?” The woman did indeed look quite astonished.

“I rode here. I’ve come a very long way. I’ve been weeks traveling.”

To Lyssa’s surprise, the woman cupped Lyssa’s face and looked sadly, intently, into her eyes. Softly, she said, “You must have run from a very great danger to come in the winter.”

Lyssa laughed a short laugh, saying, “Or else I’m very foolish.”

Once more to Lyssa’s surprise, the woman smiled a wry smile, dropping her hands. “Yes, or that. But however did you manage to get that horse here?”

“I rode. Across the sand when the tide was out.”

“Good gracious.”

“Don’t you have horses here?” asked Lyssa.

“No. They won’t come across the sand. I’m afraid we don’t even have a stable to put your horse in.”

“Oh.”

“Never mind that. We’ll leave him? her?...”

“Her.”

“…her in the courtyard until you can take her back to the mainland.”

“Oh! But…”

“Don’t worry, the Dedicates have farms and stables aplenty on the mainland, where your horse will be taken care of until you wish to leave here.”

“Thank you.”

“Come along, then. You must see Dedicate Prudence. She’s the one who deals with the pilgrims.”

“And what is your name?” asked Lyssa.

“I’m Dedicate Persistence.”

“What funny names,” Lyssa observed politely.

“We drop our old names and are given virtues as our name when we become dedicates.”

“How fascinating.”

“Yes, well, usually they’re shortened to something simpler by those of us who are… a little less reverent. I’m called Percy by those too lazy to pronounce Persistence. Just don’t go using it around Dedicate Wisdom.”

“Why?”

“She’s the Head Dedicate. She doesn’t quite approve of such practices.”

They reached a small inner courtyard, and there Lyssa tied Firefly up temporarily. Then Persistence led her inside, through a maze of corridors and doors. They took a winding staircase up a tower, and then through a door into an office.

Persistence asked Lyssa to wait in the chair in the corner while she went to find Prudence. Left alone, Lyssa took in her surroundings. The room was small, made entirely of stone, and contained little furniture. There was a beautiful, ornately carved wooden desk, a matching wooden chair, and then the simpler chair Lyssa sat on. A tiny, slit window provided some daylight, while a sprig of candles on the desk provided the rest of the room’s illumination.

Lyssa waited patiently until she heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a woman entered.

The woman came over to Lyssa and bent to kiss her forehead softly. “Greetings, pilgrim. You have made a dangerous journey to come at this time of year.”

Lyssa didn’t know how to respond to this, so she kept quiet while Prudence sat down at the desk.

“And on horseback, I hear! Most pilgrims walk their arduous journey here.”

Lyssa decided it was time to speak up. “I am not so much a pilgrim as a refugee. I seek sanctuary in your protective walls.”

“I see. And why else have you come here?”

Lyssa sought for another reason. “To learn.”

“And why else?”

“There is no other reason.”

Prudence nodded, her hands steepled in deep thought as she gazed piercingly at Lyssa. Finally she said, “All right then. We’ll leave it at that. If you think of another reason, you must come and tell me.”

Lyssa nodded.

“What is your name?”

Lyssa hesitated. “If you don’t mind… I’d rather not say.”

“If you wish. While you are here, you shall be called Destiny, then.”

“Thank you, Dedicate.”

“You will be expected to help out with the work here.”

“What shall I do?”

“That is to be decided. People find their vocation here by their dreams.”

“Pardon?”

“You will sleep in many different locations. Wherever you find restful sleep, that is your vocation. You might try sleeping in the kitchens tonight. It’s warm down there at least.”

Lyssa was rather taken aback. She didn’t see how this could work. Rather than question the dedicate, Lyssa asked, “What about my horse?”

“Tomorrow, you shall take her back to the mainland to one of our farms. There she will be treated well but given work to keep her occupied while you are here. She will earn her keep.”

Lyssa nodded.

“Come along. I will show you around the shrine.”

After two minutes, Lyssa was lost and believed that she would never find her way again. The shrine seemed a maze that went in all directions. Stairs wound down and up and corridors twisted through and around the many rooms. Everything, however, seemed to centre around the cloister. The cloister was a colonnade surrounding a square garden. The place exuded peace and tranquility. Lyssa yearned to linger there, to walk among the flowers and hedges. The view from the outer edge of the cloister looked out over the sea. She wondered what was on the other side of the sea. She didn’t quite believe that the world just ended suddenly like it looked.

The hub of the shrine was the huge cathedral that dominated the mount. Here it was that the dedicates spent their time in prayer and meditation, trying to achieve that oneness with their inner selves that would bring them infinite happiness.

It was time for the evening meal by the time Lyssa’s tour of Mont Karmle was through. She sat with three other pilgrims at the end of a long table filled with dedicates, all dressed in brown habits. The food was very simple, but hearty. It was wonderful to Lyssa, who had been living off traveling rations for weeks. No one spoke during the meal; instead, one of the dedicates, positioned on a raised pulpit, chanted in a haunting fashion the proverbs out of the psalm book.

After the meal, Prudence came to lead her to the kitchens, where she would spend the night. Lyssa had expected to be placed on the floor, perhaps by the fire, perhaps with a blanket. Instead, she was given a comfortable bed, complete with pillows and soft, thick blankets.

Prudence bade her good night and left her alone in the huge kitchens. Lyssa felt rather silly sleeping in such a place, but at the same time, she felt a peace of mind she hadn’t felt since Charles had informed her of the danger she presented to Will. She snuggled up in the bed, and sighed gratefully for the most comfortable bed she had had in weeks.

An hour passed, and Lyssa was still unable to fall asleep. She had taken to tossing and turning, flinging off the blanket, becoming cold and pulling it back on. She tried sleeping on her stomach, on her back, on her sides. Eventually, she decided that she must not be used to the comfortableness after sleeping on the hard, cold ground for so long. Desperate for some rest, Lyssa got out of the bed, and curled up on the floor beside the fire with the blanket. She managed to doze off for a little while, but still tossed and turned restlessly.

By daybreak, Lyssa was exhausted. She was beginning to understand what Prudence had meant. She obviously was not meant to be a cook in the kitchens. When the kitchens filled with activity, Lyssa gave up, and began to search her way through the maze of stairs and corridors to find the courtyard where Firefly had spent the night.

Lyssa spent that day taking Firefly across the sands once more, this time with a guide who knew the terrain well. They traveled to a farm five miles inland. Lyssa satisfied herself that Firefly would be happy living and working on the farm while Lyssa remained in the shrine. She just hoped the horse didn’t think she had abandoned her. Then she walked back to the shrine, using the guide’s help to cross the treacherous sands.

That night, she didn’t sleep in the guests’ room.

The following night, she didn’t sleep in the refectory. Then she didn’t sleep in the library, nor the knights’ room, nor the pantry, nor the cloister – despite its peaceful soothing atmosphere – nor the Head Dedicate’s office. Prudence was becoming quite confused. “It doesn’t usually take this long to find one’s vocation.”

Lyssa was becoming very grumpy from her lack of rest. If she had known this was what awaited her at her sanctuary, she would have taken a few days more rest before crossing the sands.

Finally, Prudence put her in a small, long, narrow room. It had no windows, and both walls were lined with two wooden poles running horizontally.

“What is this place?”

“It’s our falconry. I’m running out of places to put you. I do so hope you finally have a good night’s rest here.”

Lyssa heartily agreed and settled down into the bed she was beginning to loathe. She lay down, and in the dim light seeping through the cracks in the door, Lyssa took out the pouch that always hung around her neck. She emptied the contents into her hand and gazed down at it. It glinted softly in the low light. It was too dark to see the details of the seal, but she had already memorised them. She ran her thumb over it, clenching the chain in her fist. Then she turned on her side, and very soon, her eyes drifted close, and she fell into the deepest sleep she had had in many weeks.

She awoke completely rested, feeling better than she had ever felt. She didn’t feel like getting up. She snuggled down under the covers, and tucked her hand under one cheek, the other still clutching the seal.

She was woken the second time by Prudence, who merely said, “It looks like we have a new falconer.”

Confused, Lyssa sat up, hiding the bracelet in her hand. “I don’t know anything about falconry.”

“You’ll have to learn. Meanwhile, I think you’ve missed the first meal. Come along Destiny, I’ll show you to your room.”

“My room? I thought this was my room now.”

“This merely shows you your vocation while you are here. Once you have found it, you are given a proper bedchamber. Don’t worry, you won’t have any more sleepless nights here.”

Lyssa tucked the seal into its pouch, hiding it beneath her clothes, and followed Prudence. While she ate her meal, Lyssa asked Prudence about the falconry.

“Why does Mont Karmle even have a falconry?”

“When wealthy pilgrims come here, they leave their entire household behind. They leave behind spouses, children, servants, pet dogs, horses, everything. Everything except their birds. They are excessively attached to their birds. And these birds of prey are very, very expensive to keep, and they are very delicate in a way. It’s not that you can break them easily or anything, but that they need tremendous loving and care. There is a strong bond between the person and the bird. This is why we have a falconry. It is to house the falcons, kestrels, peregrines, merlins, et cetera, during their master’s stay.”

“What will I do?”

“You will care for the birds and the falconry.”

Chapter Nine

Posted on Friday, 12 December 2003

Since there were so few pilgrims during the cold winter months, Lyssa occupied herself by studying falconry from the books in the library, and by helping other dedicates around the shrine.

Lyssa would often sit on the ramparts and gaze out toward the mainland and wonder about Will.

She thought of him frequently, ached for him constantly, and occasionally would remember to think of missing her family, Jane in particular. She wondered if Charles and Jane finally came together.

Spring arrived and with it the first trickle of pilgrims making their way to the shrine. Lyssa helped prepare the guests’ hall for their stay. Huge fires were kept in the four big fireplaces, two at each end of the room. Pallets were laid out on the floor and blankets provided.

Lyssa received her first bird just as the roses in the cloister garden were beginning to bloom. The small kestrel belonged to a noble lady who had come from Tatton.

As she took the bird into her care, she discovered that the ability truly did seem to come naturally to her. She and the bird understood each other, responded to each other, and seemed to use one another for support. While she was with the kestrel, Lyssa felt happy and content with her lot in life. The thick leather gloves, or gauntlets, she wore to protect her arm from the sharp talons, soon became worn-in and moulded to her hands.

During the noblewoman’s stay, Lyssa took the opportunity to casually talk to her about politics.

“So… I heard from some other pilgrims that Shire has had some problems.”

“Goodness gracious, yes! It’s given us all quite a turn.”

“What happened?” Lyssa held her breath. “Nothing happened to the royal family did it?”

“Yes!”

Lyssa’s heart stopped. She had to know more. “W-what?”

“Since most of the kingdom had lost all confidence in the old king, he was forced to abdicate in favour of his son or risk losing the throne altogether!”

Lyssa was positive she could not continue standing and holding the kestrel on her arm. He felt heavy and he was beginning to sense her distress. She went over to a bench and sat down, shifting the kestrel to perch on her shoulder.

“Maybe you had better start from the beginning. I… only heard bits and pieces from the man I spoke to.”

“It all started when some of the nobles in the north wanted to invade Windham. The old king didn’t take a hard enough line with them, and they ended up seceding. Or at least trying to.”

“How did they prevent the northern provinces from seceding?”

“Took an army against them. Then when the northern nobles tried to muster an army against them, they couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Apparently the Crown Prince… what’s his name…? Oh yes, Fitzwilliam. Apparently Prince Fitzwilliam had gone round to the different villages and people and talked with them! He and his spies convinced them not to stay loyal to their nobles but to the crown and they would be better cared for and rewarded.”

Lyssa was astonished. She felt overwhelmed with love and devotion for Will. He was so wise, so brave.

“What then?” she managed to say.

“After the nobles were … defeated, the rest of the nobles demanded that the old king abdicate in favour of his son.”

“So… Shire is ruled by …”

“By King Fitzwilliam.”

The kestrel began preening Lyssa, straightening her hair and nibbling on her ear.

“Are you all right, dear? You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine,” Lyssa whispered, stroking the kestrel’s mail*.

“I must say that you are a marvelous falconer.”

“Thank you,” Lyssa said, grateful and yet annoyed by the change of subject.

“You’re wasted in a place like this.”

Lyssa didn’t reply.

*Mail – the breast feathers.

Months passed and Lyssa concentrated on her daily tasks, more than grateful for the routine and simple living of the shrine. She enjoyed the company of the dedicates. Some were not much older than herself, while others had lived many decades.

Lyssa knew it was safe for her to return to Shire. And yet she was more afraid of returning than she had been when she knew her life was in danger there. She felt cowardly hiding in this sacred place at the end of the world.

Her guilt only increased when she was called before the Head Dedicate, Wisdom. She walked into the sumptuous office and curtseyed low to the great woman.

“My child,” Dedicate Wisdom began, “This place is a shrine, a place for meditation and prayer, a sanctuary providing protection for those who need it.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“This is not a hiding place.”

Lyssa swallowed, not looking up at the woman. “Yes, Your Grace.” She had been duly chastised.

Though guilt was a burden she carried with her constantly, her fear of returning was too powerful. How could she go back after all this time? Would she go straight to the castle and just show up? It had been so long since she had left, she could hardly believe the King of Shire loved her and wanted to marry her! She was nobody. She was merely a falconer. It was something about being secluded in Mont Karmle, so distant from the real world, that made reality that much harder to believe. Will was always close to Lyssa’s heart, but the King of Shire was very distant indeed. She could picture herself returning to the castle and being summarily dismissed by the Royal Guard. Things had changed. Will was no longer the Crown Prince who would someday take the throne. He was King. In person, Will could make her forget who he was. But he wasn’t there to do that. She could never see herself as a queen. And that would be exactly what she was if she returned to marry Will.

She also couldn’t return to her home. She was supposed to be dead. How would she explain her actions without revealing her relationship with Will? Jane would be her primary reason for returning, and she may not even be there anymore. What if Charles came and took her away with him? Lyssa would be all alone in the orchards. So she remained where she was, content to live a small, insignificant life in the shrine. But she had no peace. The guilt and longing for Will nibbled at her happiness.

Late in the summer, the shrine received a royal visitor. Prince Richard of Eos came alone, dressed in the pilgrims’ garb. Alone but for his hawk, Perdwin. To Lyssa this magnificent red-tailed hawk was entrusted.

Lyssa could tell that this hawk belonged in the royal court. He was strong and powerful, yet gentle and dainty in a way that made Lyssa laugh. She took tremendous joy in caring for the bird, taking him with her wherever she went in the shrine. He was a haggard – a wild hawk caught and trained with painstaking care. This meant that he was a much better hunter, but was also more likely to be lost during a hunt.

On the third day, Prince Richard sought her out. With Perdwin on her shoulder, Lyssa was unable perform the usual curtsey to the prince. “Forgive me,” she said, but he waved his hand, dismissing her apology.

“I am quite amazed at how taken Perdwin is with you. It is remarkable.”

“I find that most birds like me, Your Highness.”

“You are wasted in a place like this. You are not a dedicate, are you?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“Where are you from?”

Lyssa hesitated. “I am from nowhere. I have no past, and I have no future. I have only the present.”

Lyssa fed a tidbit of meat to Perdwin.

“Do you intend to stay here at Mont Karmle forever?”

“No.”

“Then why do you have no future?”

“Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I do not know my future.”

“Who does?”

“Most people do know where they will be the following year.”

“True enough.”

“You know that you will be prince, you will marry, you will be involved in politics, and perhaps war…. I have no such certainty.”

The prince paused. “Would you like to go for a walk out on the rocks? Let’s see if Perdwin will bring us home some fish. Unless you have fed him recently?”

“No, he should be hungry enough to hunt well.”

Together, the three of them walked out of the shrine and through the village. Lyssa led them down a side path that took them around the base of the shrine to Gabriel’s Tower which guarded the mount from any threat coming by way of the sea. Perdwin’s rufter* was fitted over his head, and he knew that he would soon be on the hunt.

When they had reached the rocky shore, Prince Richard asked, “Would you like to do the honours?”

Lyssa nodded, and held Perdwin close to her, whispering to him, encouraging him, getting him excited. He fidgeted, transferring his weight from one leg to the other, rustling his feathers. Lyssa took off the rufter, unhooked the leash, and tossed him up into the air. The hawk took flight immediately, and with a piercing cry, soared upwards.

Prince Richard and Lyssa sat down on a rock, watching the glorious flight of this magnificent bird.

“He’s so beautiful,” breathed Lyssa.

“That he is.” Prince Richard gazed with pride at him.

Lyssa looked at the Prince and studied him for the first time. He was, perhaps, more handsome than Will in the traditional way. But he lacked Will’s humorous twinkle in his eye. She knew that Richard was but a second son of the king of Eos, and yet he looked more like a Crown Prince than Will did. Will was one who looked more at home in the orchards and in the fields than he did in a ballroom.

Prince Richard caught her looking at him thoughtfully. Suddenly, he said, “Why don’t you return with me?”

Lyssa looked completely taken aback. “I beg your pardon!”

“Return to the royal castle and take up a position as a falconer there. You underestimate your talents. You’re a first-rate falconer. You could be head of the royal falconry after a few years.”

Lyssa still looked astonished. “Are you serious?”

“Perfectly. You could travel back with me, you would have a place to stay in the castle close to the falconry, you would have plenty of birds to work with. And you would be my personal falconer. While I take Perdwin with me most places, there are still some occasions when I must leave him behind.”

“But… Your Highness, I’m not sure… if my skills extend beyond this place,” she stuttered.

Prince Richard looked confused.

Lyssa explained, “I’ve never been a falconer before I came to Mont Karmle. It’s like I was given the skills when I came here. I’m not sure if I would remain a first-rate falconer when I leave Mont Karmle.”

“You mean it’s part of the mystery that is in this place?”

“I guess so.”

“But then, you can never know until you try, right?”

Lyssa nodded. She remembered Dedicate Wisdom’s gentle admonition, and decided that it was time to at least leave Mont Karmle.

“All right, then. I’ll come with you.”

“Wonderful. What is your name?”

She gazed out over the water, squinting against the sun.

“Destiny. But I go by Dusty.”

“What an odd name. It must not be your real name.”

“No, it is the name I adopted here.”

“Dusty?” he said dubiously.

She nodded. “One gets used to teasing nicknames.”

“Yes, I suppose falconry can be a bit of a dusty job.”

Perdwin came into sight clutching a fish in his talons. He dropped the fish in Lyssa’s lap before settling onto her shoulder. The fish was a large one – already dead, thankfully. Lyssa praised Perdwin, cooing to him and caressing him in the manner he favoured. Then she replaced the rufter and the leash, hooked a finger in the gills of the fish, and set off with Prince Richard toward Mont Karmle.

After Lyssa had returned Perdwin to his perch in the falconry and fed him, she sought out Prudence to inform her of her impending departure.

They walked around the cloister together, their arms interlocked as the elder woman gave the younger some advice.

“My dear, everyone in this world has a purpose in life. We cannot escape it. My purpose is to welcome pilgrims to this shrine, and I try and do the best job that I can. You mustn’t be afraid of your purpose. You won’t be given anything you can’t handle.”

Lyssa wondered how these dedicates seemed to see right through her. She was afraid they knew exactly who and what she was running from.

“Some of us are given heavier burdens to bear, but that is because we can manage it. You must have confidence that you will never be given something you cannot manage. You must have confidence in yourself.”

Lyssa wanted to protest this. She wanted to say, ‘It’s fine to lecture me like this, but you don’t have to face being the Queen of Shire!’

“What is the most important thing in the world to you?” Prudence asked Lyssa.

Lyssa’s hand involuntarily stole up to her chest, where the pouch containing the seal was nestled.

“What are you doing for it?”

Lyssa was ashamed of what her answer would be: nothing. She felt she had been so brave to escape and run away. Perhaps she had been. But that bravery had turned into cowardliness when she knew it was safe to return.

“Go with Prince Richard, and see if you can fulfill your purpose.”

Lyssa nodded. Prudence kissed Lyssa’s forehead, and turned into the shrine.

*Rufter – leather eye hoods.

Prince Richard left three days later, journeying back to the capital of Eos. They stopped along the way to pick up Firefly, who had been enjoying her stint of being a farm horse in the countryside. Lyssa was thankful the horse still recognized her and was grateful to be reunited.

Somehow, riding Firefly once again grounded her more firmly into her roots. It was so easy, while living in Mont Karmle, to forget the outside world, to believe that it had all been a dream. Now, it was the opposite. Mont Karmle seemed unreal and distant.

It took some time before Firefly was comfortable having Perdwin ride with Lyssa. The hawk made Firefly nervous at first despite the bird’s tame nature. The trip to the castle was much shorter than her own journey from her home; and more pleasant due to the weather and the company. While she liked Prince Richard’s company, he was also a constant reminder of Will. It made her miss Will even more, wondering what he was doing and if he had decided to take another wife. She wondered if Will even knew she was alive.

Sometimes she thought she saw Richard looking at her strangely, and she began to wonder if she was muttering in her sleep or doing something else odd. Her second fear was that he would begin to imagine himself attracted to her. She began to watch her actions carefully, monitoring them and making sure she gave no sign of interest in him whatsoever. It was difficult enough since he didn’t seem to consider her a servant so much as a fellow falconry enthusiast. She was somewhat amazed and relieved that her falconer skills remained after leaving the environs of Mont Karmle. Perdwin was still as attached to her during the journey to the castle as he had been at the shrine. But she did wonder if the birds who had not known her in Mont Karmle would feel the same way.

Eos was different from Shire in that it was dryer. The farms produced different crops, and there were fewer lush forests. Instead, rolling hills of tall grass stretched as far as the eye could see. Lyssa found herself longing for the mountains of her home and the forests of Shire.

Occasionally, they would send Perdwin out to hunt. He usually came back with medium-sized rodents that Lyssa didn’t recognize, but were apparently edible. She discovered that Prince Richard went on a pilgrimage to Mont Karmle every year, thus explaining his skills in traveling and living on his own. Lyssa was reminded of Will, who was a dichotomy of independence and dependence. He seemed to yearn to be free of his cage at the same time as needing servants to do daily tasks.

After a week of traveling inland from Mont Karmle, they reached the castle. Lyssa begged Prince Richard to be excused from meeting the rest of the royal family, and after much pleading, he relented. Instead, he had a servant show her to the falconry.

Lyssa was awed by the size and opulence of the falconry. They had a house all of their own. In reality, it was only two stories, with one room on top where the birds roosted, and two rooms on the ground floor: one for equipment storage and one room as living quarters for the head falconer.

Lyssa climbed the narrow winding staircase to the second floor, and found Perdwin’s usual perch labeled with a small gold plaque. Perdwin knew he was home, and contented himself to settling in. Lyssa found the water supply and filled his bowls with water and food.

When Perdwin no longer demanded her attention, Lyssa went around meeting the other birds. There were six total. Two were kestrels – which Lyssa had begun to realize were considered ladies’ birds – one was a peregrine, one was a red-shouldered hawk, and one was a black falcon. This last one she believed belonged to the King of Eos himself it was so elegant.

Lyssa heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and became very apprehensive. She had no proof of her right to be there. She was just some ordinary stranger intruding in a very protected place.

An elderly gentleman, dressed in the traditional falconer’s garb of a leather coat, appeared from the spiral staircase. “Who are you?” he demanded upon seeing her.

“I have brought Perdwin back from Mont Karmle. I rode with Prince Richard. He hired me as his personal falconer.”

“He did, did he? Do you know anything about falconry?”

Lyssa nodded. “I was the falconer at Mont Karmle.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Let’s take the peregrine out to hunt, then. See how good you are.”

“What is her name?” asked Lyssa.

“Bruggen.”

Lyssa took out her gauntlet and put it on, then went up to the peregrine to make her acquaintance. When she felt Bruggen was sufficiently comfortable with her, she offered her leather-covered arm to step onto, transferring the leash from the perch to her hand. Then together they made their way down the stairs. Bruggen tugged at the pouch’s strap that hung around her neck.

“Hey, stop that,” she reprimanded the peregrine. But Bruggen still pecked at it occasionally, tugging and pulling at it as if it were a toy.

In the front room where the equipment was, Lyssa found Bruggen’s rufter and put it on. As they walked out of the falconry, Lyssa turned to the man and said, “My name’s Dusty.”

“Funny name.”

“I came from a funny place.”

“Oh? Where’s that?”

“I told you. Mont Karmle. My full name is Destiny.”

“You must have come from somewhere before that.”

Lyssa nodded. “What’s your name?” she asked before he could question her further about where she was from.

“Ben.”

Lyssa smiled at him, trying to soften the outer grumpy shell of this older man. She would be working closely with him for an indefinite period of time so she wanted to be on good terms with him.

She rode Firefly out with Ben into the flat prairies that surrounded the castle. When she felt they were in an area that would be sufficiently fruitful for hunting, she brought Bruggen forward, spoke to her, encouraged her, then unhooked her leash and took off her rufter. Throwing the bird up into the air, Bruggen soared out over the prairie. Lyssa kept an eye on her until the peregrine reached her pitch*, catching the hot winds high above and hovering there, her extremely keen eyes searching for her prey. Lyssa then turned to Ben.

“How often are the birds hunted?”

“Not often enough,” grumbled Ben. “Prince Richard’s the most passionate about his bird.”

“Perdwin is the finest bird I’ve ever seen. Perhaps with the exception of the black hawk I saw in the falconry.”

“Jade? Yes, he is a fine one. But he’s also stuck up and difficult to manage.”

Lyssa decided not to let Ben’s prejudice affect her. Perhaps Jade was just neglected. It mustn’t be easy being the King’s pet bird.

Bruggen soon returned with a rabbit, dropping it at Lyssa’s feet before settling onto Lyssa’s outstretched arm. Immediately, Bruggen began tugging at her pouch’s strap, almost as if she thought it didn’t belong there, as if it were a piece of dirt in her hatchling’s feathers. To distract Bruggen from her annoying habit, Lyssa fed her tidbits of meat, stroking her mail and cere*.

“Fine, fine,” muttered Ben. “You’ll need somewhere to stay.”

Lyssa nodded, putting the rufter and leash back onto Bruggen, tugging the pouch strap out of the peregrine’s beak once again. They returned to the castle, and found Prince Richard waiting for them at the falconry.

Prince Richard grinned wryly at Ben. “Been putting her to the test, eh Ben?”

“Just doing my duty, Your Highness,” replied Ben huffily.

“Treat her well. She’s an extraordinary falconer.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Prince Richard clapped Lyssa’s shoulder gently, making sure not to bother Bruggen, then left her with Ben.

*Pitch – the height to which a hawk, when waiting for game, rises in the air.

*Cere – the naked wax-like skin above the beak.

Lyssa quickly settled in at the castle of Eos. She avoided all nobility but those who came to see their birds. Then Lyssa was treated as a servant, and was hardly noticed at all.

The months crept by, and Lyssa kept an ear out for news of Shire. She felt a continuous pressure in her conscience – a manifestation of her guilt. She wanted to send word to her father and sister telling them that she was all right. But she didn’t know how to do this without attracting attention to herself, and perhaps even detection. She also remembered her promise to them both that she would return as soon as the trouble in Shire was over.

As autumn began to wane, Lyssa received news that the King of Shire was coming to visit. Lyssa was beside herself, not knowing what to do. It reached the point where Ben banned her from the falconry, telling her she was upsetting the birds. He asked her what was the matter, but she couldn’t even think of an excuse. She considered fleeing once more, but knew that Ben and Prince Richard, at least, would think this strange.

While she knew she could last the King’s visit without him seeing her, she was not sure of her own strength after seeing Will once more. It was still difficult to grasp that Will was the King of Shire. She still thought of his father as king, and Will as… well, as her fiancé, her lover, not the Crown Prince, and definitely not the King. Her muddled thoughts whirled around her head in panic.

She walked to the castle garden and found a secluded spot where she could sit and think. Taking out the pouch that hung around her neck, she poured the bracelet into her palm, looking at it. No matter how hard she tried, she could not envision her life in the court with Will. She loved him so much, yet wondered if she loved him enough to be the Queen of Shire. Fear invaded her heart even imagining such a role in life.

She put the seal back in the pouch and tucked it into her shirt. She wondered if Charles would accompany Will. It would be more difficult to avoid two men if that were the case. She wondered how big a household he would bring with him. If Charles came, would Jane be with him? And if Jane did come, would she be able to remain hidden from her beloved sister?

Lyssa sighed. Perhaps it was better to just hide out in the countryside until the end of his visit.

Two weeks later, with great fanfare, the King of Shire entered the royal castle of Eos. Lyssa watched from the ramparts, searching for a glimpse of Will – her Will, not the King. From this distance, she could not see him; all she could see was the King. The Eosian royal family greeted him formally. Prince Richard stood with his two sisters near the back.

Lyssa looked for Charles, but could not see any sign of him. There were a number of nobles accompanying the King; she recognized no one. When the entire party had entered the castle, Lyssa remained on the ramparts, her legs dangling through an arrow-slit as she gazed out over the land.

It was strange having Will so close to her after all this time. It had been over a year since she had last seen him. She felt like she had grown by many years since that innocent time during the harvest. She yearned to see him – not as the King, but as Will. She wished she could meet him like she had first met him, on the roadside in the garb of a farmer boy.

She leaned her head on the rough stone and began to cry, her shoulders quivering. Her hand reached for the pouch in her shirt, and her heart stopped when she realized it was not there. She panicked, her mind searching for a clue of where it could have gone. She never took it off. She stood up, looking around her on the ramparts, hoping it had dropped near her. When she didn’t see it, she ran down the narrow stone staircase in the tower to the bottom of the huge fortifications, and sprinted to her room. It wasn’t there, either. Her mind whirling, she tried to think of when she had seen it last. It was always around her neck, she couldn’t think of when she last consciously touched it. Usually it was just there, without her having to think about it.

The strap must have broken. She knew it was getting very worn where Bruggen always chewed at it. She rushed up to the falconry, this being her last hope of finding it. She searched among the rushes on the floor, her hands soon becoming soiled with mule*. When she didn’t find it, she quickly left before she did any damage to Bruggen in her anger and despair.

She washed her hands in the water trough and then sat down to sob her heart out, desolate at having lost her one connection with Will.

*Mule – hawk excrement.

The following afternoon, Prince Richard came to visit Perdwin in the falconry. Lyssa hovered in the shadows doing odd jobs while she listened to the Prince’s conversation with Ben.

“I feel sorry for the man. He’s only a year or two older than me, and he becomes king under dubious circumstances.”

“Aye, Your Highness, but is it really better to become king when your father dies?”

“No, that’s true,” Prince Richard admitted. “Still, I wish my father wasn’t being so pushy about the marriage treaty. Anyone can tell King Fitzwilliam doesn’t want to marry my sister, no matter how beautiful she is.”

Lyssa’s heart leapt to her throat.

“How much longer can he refuse marriage offers, though? What’s he waiting for?” asked Ben.

“Remember a year ago, I think it was, his parents announced that he was engaged?”

“No, I don’t remember that.”

“But we never found out who the lady was. Perhaps he’s still engaged.”

“If that were so, then where is the lady?”

Prince Richard shrugged. “Just makes me feel sorrier for him.”

“Why don’t you bring him down here sometime? Perhaps he’ll enjoy seeing the birds.”

“You know, that’s an excellent idea, Ben. I shall do so. I believe he would enjoy it. If anything, it would get him away from my father and sister for a little while.”

Chapter Ten

Posted on Monday, 22 December 2003

Lyssa, having been forewarned, was ready to hide when King Fitzwilliam came to the falconry with Prince Richard. Lyssa listened as Prince Richard explained as they walked inside, “And I brought back this excellent falconer from Mont Karmle. Do you know it?”

“The shrine at the end of the world? Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

Lyssa bit back a half sigh/half sob at hearing his beautiful voice again. It seemed slightly altered – perhaps graver, heavier, deeper.

“She just seems to have this gift with the birds. Ben, where is Dusty?” asked Prince Richard.

The three men were mounting the steps. Lyssa huddled farther into the mound of rushes she had buried herself inside and held her breath, ignoring her cramped muscles.

“I don’t know, Your Highness. She’s been a bit jittery recently. Upsets the birds sometimes.”

“That’s unusual. What’s wrong?”

“Won’t tell me.”

“She does get a bit unnerved by royalty, though. She won’t stay around any of my family.”

King Fitzwilliam murmured, “I knew someone like that once.”

Prince Richard began to show the King the birds. “This one is Bruggen. She’s a bit of a troublemaker. And this is Jade. He’s my father’s, but he doesn’t like anyone except Dusty. I suppose it’s because Dusty spends the most time with him. I’m sorry you had to see Grutner when she’s mewing*. And here…” Lyssa could hear the pride in Prince Richard’s voice, “Is Perdwin, my red-tailed hawk.”

King Fitzwilliam said, “He is a magnificent bird.”

“Well,” Prince Richard added modestly, “He’s not as grand as Jade, but he’s a damn sight better at hunting, especially if Dusty takes him out. Here, take my gauntlet, see if he’ll let you hold him.”

Lyssa whispered a few words to Perdwin, encouraging the hawk to accept Will’s arm. Perdwin’s feathered head turned in its rapid way, his dark, sharp eyes staring at the pile of rushes in the corner. He let out a cry, and Lyssa winced, hoping Perdwin would not give her away. Then he stepped onto Will’s forearm and looked at the King eye to eye.

Prince Richard looked pleased and a bit surprised. “There you go, Fitzwilliam. He’s taken to you.”

Lyssa saw a glimmer of a smile in Will’s handsome face. It made her heart ache and her hand twitched to clutch the pouch that no longer hung around her neck.

They walked to the far end of the falconry, standing by the open window as Will stroked the soft, feathered body of the bird.

After several moments, Prince Richard said softly, “I’m sorry about my father.”

“Why?” asked King Fitzwilliam, puzzled.

“Well… about trying to get you to marry my sister.”

The King sighed. “I should be the one apologizing. Your sister is… a lovely young lady, but….”

“I understand,” said Prince Richard. After a long pause, he asked, “Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” the King replied with a deep sigh. “She … had to flee during the trouble last year.”

“You’ve searched for her?”

“Yes. I’ve sent my most trusted men all over your country, mine, everywhere. None have returned with even the slightest trace of her.”

“You think she came to Eos?”

“Her farm borders Eos. It would have been but a short journey into your kingdom.”

“What is her name? Perhaps she is in our royal court.”

“No, she will be in no royal court,” Will replied, almost bitterly. “I’m now convinced that she does not wish to be found. She… must not love me.”

“How can you say that?” prompted Prince Richard.

“She never said she did. No matter how much I told her I loved her, I never heard her say it. I thought I saw it, but….”

“There are plenty of women who would love you if you let them. And many would even if you did not let them.”

Will’s face registered disgust. “I want none of them.”

“You must marry and produce heirs soon, Fitzwilliam.”

Will nodded. “I just… I just keep thinking that she’ll return someday. I worry about her. Think about her night and day. Sometimes I dream that she is dead, and her cold eyes just stare up at me. And sometimes I dream that she just runs away from me, laughing. If I just knew what had happened to her, then I might be able to move on.”

Prince Richard clapped a sympathetic hand on the King’s back. “I hope I never fall in love. It looks horrid.”

“No, only when it is unrequited and thwarted. Otherwise, it is the most glorious feeling you will ever have.”

“Come, do you want to hunt with Perdwin?”

The two men left the falconry, leaving behind a distraught Lyssa inside a mound of rushes. Lyssa could no more keep the guilt and tears from coming than she could the tide from surrounding Mont Karmle. Lyssa managed to stumble to her room, disregarding the rushes that stuck out of her hair and clothes like a scarecrow. She collapsed into tears on her bed, great sobs of self-pity and self-censure wracking her body.

When the tears subsided, Lyssa came to the firm decision that no matter what, Will would at least leave Eos with the knowledge that she had loved him. She owed him that much at any rate.

*Mewing – moulting feathers.

Will hadn’t been exaggerating one iota when he had confessed to Prince Richard his woes. Afterwards, he wondered that he had opened up to almost a stranger in that way. There was something funny in the atmosphere of that falconry that made him say more than he had in months about Lyssa. No one around him knew of her. Hardly anyone even remembered he had been engaged before being crowned King of Shire.

He was heartbroken. Literally heartbroken. He knew she had lived, he knew she had escaped. He believed she still lived, he believed she knew the war with the northern nobles was over. He believed she did not love him, he believed he would never be able to see her again. And he was heartbroken.

Will had lost his patience and good humour as time went on. While everyone else believed it an incredible display of generosity, Charles knew he had received one of the northern provinces merely to get him and his new wife, Jane, out of his sight. Charles could not find it in his heart to be angry with his king. He, too, lived with the daily reminder of how much Lyssa was missed. Sometimes Charles found himself angry at Lyssa. Angry at the sorrow she caused his wife and his best friend. Sometimes he blamed himself for allowing it to happen, for not following her when he could have, when her trail was not yet cold. Mostly, he felt pity for Will. A pity for Will’s lonely existence, having now banned his last friend to the north.

That evening, as Will sat with the Eosian Royal Family at the feast, the Queen addressed him, saying, “We have found an item that we believe is yours, though somewhat dated.”

Will looked confused.

The Queen produced something in her hand, and said, “We recognized it as a seal of Shire, but it is not your current one.”

Will stared at the glinting object in the Queen’s hand. Trembling, his mind numb, he stretched out his hand. The Queen placed it in his palm, and he slowly brought it closer so that he might see the seal. He didn’t really need to see it. He already knew what it was, and his mind seemed incapable of processing what it meant.

Everyone at the table must have noticed something in his face, for they had all stopped eating and were looking at him, some in concern and some in amused wonder.

Finally, Will managed to say, “Where did you get this?”

“We’re not sure,” replied the Queen. “One of the servants gave it to us. They thought you must have dropped it at some point.”

“It was found in this castle?”

“We presume so. Is it not yours?”

“It was once. I gave it away.” Will suddenly stood up from the table. “I must find the owner of it.”

“Why?”

“The owner… I gave it to her… and …” Will felt a tumult of emotions swirling inside his breast. He seemed incapable of coherent thought. “I need her,” he whispered. “How do I find her?”

Prince Richard, beginning to perceive Will’s distress, came to his aid. “I believe that the owner of it is a long lost friend of His Majesty’s. Perhaps we should call out the entire castle to appear so that His Majesty might look for this friend.”

It was clear that the rest of the royal family were quite confused over King Fitzwilliam’s behaviour. If someone were such a good friend to the King in this castle, why did they simply not come forth and greet him?

Will turned a grateful look on Prince Richard, then strode out of the banquet hall, desperate to find Lyssa, yet fearing he would not find her in the castle at all. He wondered if she had meant to return the seal, whether he should consider this the final evidence that she did not care for him.

Lyssa had already penned a note to Will. It was very short. She had struggled for hours over what to say, finally deciding on the simplest form. She had given it to the baker’s boy, who would then pass it on to the stable girl, who would give it to the scullery maid, who would give it to a footman to give to King Fitzwilliam. She figured then that it would be too difficult to trace the note’s origin. She hadn’t signed it. But she hoped he would know.

When she heard trumpets sounding from the turrets, she was confused, wondering what this meant. Slowly, word crept round that there was a muster of everyone in the castle in the main courtyard. Lyssa couldn’t ever remember having been called in such a fashion. She followed everyone else into the courtyard, and stood waiting for whatever it was they awaited.

Soon, she saw Prince Richard holding a torch as he and another figure walked down the rows of castle employees. As the couple got nearer, Lyssa realized with a jolt that it was Will. He seemed to be looking at all the people. In a panic, she realized he would be searching for her. The note must have reached him much faster than she had anticipated. She began to slink slowly toward the rear of the muster. Eventually, she was able to slip away into the shadows of the courtyard, and ran straight for her room, secluded away in a corner of the castle.

The disappointment Will felt upon not discovering her among the throngs of people in the courtyard was acutely devastating. He retired to his bedchamber in more of a depressed, dejected state than he had ever been in before. He lay on his huge ornate bed, curled up on his side, clutching the seal in his hand. He cursed his birthright. He cursed his birthright and his father and the northern nobles. He knew that if he had not been king, Lyssa would have married him. The pain seemed too much to bear. He didn’t know how he would continue living a life without her. One year had seemed like an eternity. Looking ahead to thirty more years seemed overwhelmingly daunting.

After a miserable sleepless night, Will got up at dawn and decided to get away from the castle for a little while. He wasn’t able to sneak away like he used to, but he hoped to have a ride with as little fanfare as possible.

He dressed relatively simply, putting the seal around his wrist once more. He almost felt like he now carried a piece of her, since this bracelet had been hers for so many months. But he would gladly forgo this honour if it meant she still treasured it.

He left the castle, his cloak sweeping behind him imperiously as he strode rapidly and purposefully through the halls and grand staircases. He found the stables and dismissed the stable girl who came forth to serve him. He walked through the huge stables in search of his own mount.

He paused, looking around him when one of the horses snuffled and walked up to its gate, as close as it could get, to reach toward Will. Feeling the muzzle snuffling around his shoulder, Will turned to face the chestnut horse.

The horse looked very familiar. Will stepped back to have a better look. Then he opened the gate and coaxed the horse out of its stall. It was a mare. She had white socks on her hind legs and a white stripe down her nose.

Will called out to the stable girl in a bark. When the startled girl appeared, he demanded of her, “What is this horse called?”

“I believe her mistress calls her Firefly, Your Majesty.”

Will’s heart stopped. She was here. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Who… who is her mistress?”

“Dusty. Falconer, Your Majesty.”

The falconer? The one Prince Richard had told him of. The one who would not appear before him. The one who must not have been in the muster the previous evening.

Will left the stable, leaving Firefly to be returned to her stall by the stable girl. After several wrong turns, he managed to find the falconry, a lone small house in the outer courtyard of the castle grounds. His heart thudded rapidly in his chest cavity. Fear gripped him as well as a swelling of love. She was avoiding him, yet he must see her again. He looked up at the falconry, but could see no evidence of someone within at this hour. Nevertheless, he walked in and went up the spiral staircase to the second story. The birds were all roosting; there was no sign of her here.

Will paused, trying to decide what to do next. If she did not wish him to know she was there, he would not go against those wishes. She had formed a new life here, she was good at what she did, and she did not love him. But he had to see her. He would not be able to leave the castle until he had at least seen her, had proof that she was alive and well… and happy.

He left the falconry as quietly as he had come, and retreated to a shadowy corner of the courtyard near the falconry where he could watch and observe without being seen.

He waited there an hour – a long, agonizing hour during which his heart and mind played tormenting games with him. Then, as the courtyard began to become more active with people, he saw someone enter the falconry. He glimpsed only the sight of a tall, slender figure wearing drab working clothes, with a long, dark, unruly braid going down her back. He swore. He hadn’t even seen enough to be sure it was her, though he had no doubts. He wanted to move so that he had a view through the gable window on the second story, but he knew that by moving, he would draw attention to himself, and someone would soon recognize him as the King of Shire.

He decided to wait until she came out again. Eventually, as the sun began to warm the cold courtyard, he saw Lyssa emerge from the falconry. She was carrying Jade on her arm, speaking softly to him and tickling him gently. Will felt a surge of jealousy pass through him at the attentions Jade was receiving. He drank in the sight of her. She seemed older, but still very much the same woman he fell in love with a year ago. The unmanageable brown curls still framed her face, helped out of their binding by Jade, who groomed her.

Then Will saw Prince Richard approach her. The Prince greeted Lyssa and then reached out to stroke Jade, but was rebuffed with an open beak threatening his finger. “I’m looking for King Fitzwilliam, have you seen him?”

Will observed the startled, wide-eyed look Lyssa gave the Prince. “No,” she replied. “What has happened?”

“Oh, nothing. He wasn’t to be found in his chamber this morning.”

“P-perhaps he has gone for a ride,” she suggested.

“Yes, that is an idea, thank you.”

Will realized she knew him still. She remembered his habit of riding in the morning, of escaping the castle on his own. He watched as Lyssa, standing alone with the black falcon in the middle of the courtyard, stared off into space as if in deep contemplation. Her hand reached up to her chest, as if to clutch something there, but then her face clouded in pain and sorrow. Jade demanded her attention, and her reverie was broken. She walked through the courtyard and out a side gate toward the prairie beyond the city walls. Will yearned to follow her, but held back, reminding himself that she did not want to see him.

King Fitzwilliam remained crouched in the dirty, shadowy corner of the courtyard for some time, staring at the space she had occupied earlier. He knew he must move on, knew he was wasting time and heartache on her, but could not seem to bring himself to forget her. Finally, he returned to his rooms to bathe and dress, ignoring the questions about his absence.

For a week, Will thought of nothing but Lyssa. He found a room that overlooked the courtyard, and there he would sit by the window, staring out. Sometimes he watched her go about her activities, but mostly he just blankly stared out at the view. His courtiers and attendants grew worried over him, sure that he was ill, or worse, going mad. Only Prince Richard understood the reason for his melancholy.

After a week, King Fitzwilliam’s head advisor approached him, begging him to return to Shire where he might receive proper care. Once, Will would have laughed at the poor man’s assumption of mental illness. Now, he only nodded, deciding that it would be better to remove himself from her presence.

The preparations were quickly made for the King’s departure. Apologies were diplomatically made to the Eosian royal family, and Will prepared himself mentally to leave her behind.

On the morning of his departure, Will asked to see Prince Richard. He was making a mistake – he knew that, but he could not help it: he offered an open invitation to Prince Richard, adding, “Bring Perdwin and that elusive falconer of yours.”

Prince Richard smiled broadly, “I will. And might I wish you luck in finding your lady?”

Will’s face fell. “No. I have no luck left.”

“Come, man, don’t give up like that!”

Will just shook his head. “You don’t understand. Never mind.” Will gripped Prince Richard’s hand, and bid him goodbye.

As Will left Prince Richard’s quarters, a footman approached and bowed to him. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I am to deliver this note to you.”

Puzzled, Will took it and opened the small piece of parchment. There was but one line written in painfully familiar handwriting.

I love you more than there are feathers on a hawk.

A hand seemed to clench his heart and another his throat. He couldn’t believe it. But why had she hidden from him? His shock was great as he stood still in the grand hall outside of Prince Richard’s quarters. His mind went round in circles of disbelief.

When he was able to move once more, he sprinted through the castle, skidding down treacherous spiral stairs and tearing through sumptuous rooms. He reached the outer courtyard and then the door of the falconry. He paused, catching his breath. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he wasn’t going to wait to figure it out.

He burst into the falconry. No sign of her downstairs. He dashed up the spiral staircase, startling the birds. His heart sank at not seeing her.

He heard a call from below and turned with his hopes rising only to find that it was Ben.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?” Ben cried.

Will came back down the stairs and Ben realized who he had shouted at. “Your Majesty! I beg your pardon, I didn’t realize it was you.”

“It’s all right. Tell me, where is Lyssa?”

“Who?”

“I mean, Dusty. Your falconer.”

“I don’t know.”

“Where could I find her? Please, I must see her.”

“She may have taken one of the birds hunting. Or she may be in the kitchens fetching some food, or she may be in her room.”

Will was dismayed at the difficulty in finding her. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to see her now. He climbed the stairs once more to see if any of the birds were missing. He saw that one was not on her perch: Bruggen.

He quickly descended and asked Ben, “Where would she have taken Bruggen?”

“Bruggen? Oh… well, now… I’d say she would have taken her out on the prairie somewheres.”

Will ran out of the falconry and sprinted to the stables. He mounted his horse, which had been readied for his departure for Shire, and clattered out of the courtyard and through the portcullis, ignoring the shouts and questions called out to him.

Upon reaching the city wall, he didn’t know where to go. He looked around him. To his left there were a few farms, but to his right, he could see nothing but prairie, the grass brown with the coming of winter.

He rode west through the prairie, galloping over the hills at full pace, occasionally pulling up to look around from the peak of a hill. No matter what happened with Lyssa, he would be unable to begin the journey to Shire after having exhausted his horse so.

Then he heard the cry of a bird, the piercing cry of the hunt. He looked for the origin of the noise and saw a dark shadow diving at tremendous speed. It was some distance away, but Will turned his steed toward it and with a yell and kick of his heels, urged the horse into a gallop toward the bird.

He kept an eye on the peregrine when she rose from the ground with a wriggling dark object hanging from her talons. He watched where she went and steered his horse in the same direction. He nearly lost sight of her when he saw the bird swoop downwards and could see her no more.

It didn’t matter. Will’s heart was pounding as he continued to gallop in the direction he believed Lyssa to be. He crested two more hills before he saw a dark figure against the pale prairie. He slowed his horse to a canter and approached her. He knew she watched him. He wondered if she was pleased to see him. All certainty about her had fled with her conflicting messages.

Continued In Next Section