Chapter 1.9

I stood in the courtyard with a carriage behind me and Lord Reinard before me
He presented to me a traveling trunk and three guardsmen. Ison, the pikeman, was a heavy-set man with bushy red hair. James, the bowman, was tall and stringy, and his limp brown hair hung from a fringe around his freckled pate. Charles, the knight, had thick black curls framing his boyish face. He wore a silver crucifix and a rare steel sword. These were three of my lord’s best men.

That I should need such an escort, either for protection or to guard me, did not relieve my uneasiness.

My lord put a bracelet, a golden snake, on my left arm, and two rings, an opal and a sapphire, on my right fingers. "These will protect you. They can open locked doors; they can buy you safe passage home. Don’t hesitate to use them. Is there anything else you need?"

I had already, under pretense of needing a trip to the privy, picked up my sword from the stable hayloft, where it had been hidden for ten years. Now belted beneath my robe, Geldswan poked me in the ribs. But I had not been able to get to the closet that my lord had granted me for sleeping, and thus retrieve my other precious possession.

"I would like my harp," I signed.

He smiled warmly. "I thought of that. It’s in the trunk."

I drew in a sharp breath.

"Don’t worry. I had a Silent Monk do the packing, and you know how careful they are. It’s perfectly safe."

I slowly let out my breath, but not in relief. It is the way of my lord to think that anyone can touch a Bard’s harp. Yet if someone had to touch it, let it be a Silent Monk, for they have the only gentle hands in this cursed castle.

I bowed to my lord, nodded to the Silent Monk standing behind him, and entered the carriage. Charles climbed in with me, and James shut the door. I felt the carriage rock as he and Ison climbed onto the top. A whip cracked, signaling to the horses, and the carriage bounced forward. After ten years I was leaving.

I was leaving the few people who could understand the only language I could now speak.

The young knight leaned forward and said in a cheerful tone, "I hope they don’t put rats in our room."

Chapter 1.8

Matters of love are best left to the Bards and the Heathens. We who see life and love as but parts of the greater nature of things know best how to love freely and easily, and how to travel the twisting paths of the entwined heart. We understand the ebb and flow of love, how whims and fancies can change with the phase of the moon. We work with love, rather than dictate to it and mold it into a sellable, tradeable commodity. A couple that has been sung together may be sung apart, if things do not work as they should.

Christians believe that marriage must stay as it was when it is bound, with no changes, no exceptions. It is an investment, and worthless if there is no dowry. Companionship and beauty mean nothing; only land or money makes a marriage good. And so it was with my lord, who smitten not by the lady, but by her dowry: the Eastern Green Forest.

I myself would not take the Eastern Green Forest, even if it came with a tower filled with beautiful maidens. At its heart lies an evil, a well-spring of the twilight world, and through its shadows roam bodies without souls and souls without bodies. The Silver-eyes live in that forest, they who feast on pain and treachery, and they claim all who step beneath the green leaves. No Heathen would go near such a nest of Faerie. Yet my lord was determined to have it.

Despite my warnings against the evil wood, he arranged to marry the Lady Laurice during the Harvest Festival. Yet the harvest had come and gone, and there was still no lady in Songless Castle. This was an omen, I told my lord, that the marriage was not fated to be – but he waved my warnings aside and sent a messenger to Rockridge Castle to ask about the delay. The news that messenger brought back had thrown my lord into a rage.

And now I was to go, the next sacrifice.

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Chapter 1.7

Lord Reinard sat in his favorite chair in the solar watching as a harried cleaning maid scrubbed the hearth. On the wall behind him hung a silvered mirror, and I could see what the washing women had done to me. My smooth, dark hair had been cut Christian-short, well above my shoulders and away from my earth-brown eyes. I still had my lump of a nose and my broad face, the features of my people, which no Christian could take away with mere water.

I am a small man, but thick-set, and my fists speak for themselves when my sword cannot. But could I handle my lord’s temper? Nervously I bowed to him.

"Gerard?" he asked lightly.

His mood was better. I relaxed, and wove my hands through the air. "Yes, my lord."

"I almost didn’t recognize you."

I bowed. "My lord, I feel properly chastised for having taken upon myself to clean your hearth."

He laughed out loud. "You have a sharp wit, good friend. May we share it for many a winter’s night to come."

Of course we will, I thought. I have no choice.

"Gerard," he said, somber again. "I need your help. I need you to deliver a message to Rockridge Castle."

Foreboding made my gestures more curt than they should have been. "Why are you sending me?"

"I think you can best handle the task," he said.

"And what is this message?" As if I didn’t know. I just wanted to confirm the uneasiness which sat on my shoulders.

"My marriage to the Lady Laurice, Lord Guerney’s daughter."

I knew it.

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Chapter 1.6

After I was scrubbed, trimmed, oiled, and perfumed, the maids brought out the clothes Lord Reinard had left for me. Quite noble clothes, indeed. First came the bleached-white undertunic and the woolen stockings, followed by a light blue robe than fell to my ankles. Gold embroidery trimmed the neckline, sleeves, and hem. They girded a leather belt at my waist, one trimmed with gold and silver studs, and fastened a dark blue mantle over my shoulders with an emerald and ruby pin. They forced leather boots on my feet: stiff, hard, and painful. All the clothes were crisp and new, a fortune to spend on a lowly harper.

"And you’ll be wanting this," said the matron, setting a fur-lined cloak in my arms. "Now you’re ready for high adventure."

There was more here than simple humiliation of a heathen harper, I knew. What was my lord up to?
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