Chapter 10

Castle Caerlock, the picture of tranquility from the outside, was a hive of continuous activity inside. As the week-long event drew nearer, days grew longer and tempers got shorter. The castle was cleaned from top to bottom, the Great Hall was hung with new tapestries, chambers were made ready for guests, minstrels were hired and housed over the stable, and dish upon dish of delicacies were prepared and stored in the cool meat cellar.

Since only the master and mistress inhabited the North Hall, there was an entire hall of rooms that were never disturbed except when a feast or celebration was being held. Servants who were not in a frenzy in the kitchen, scurried around in the North Hall preparing guest quarters. Callian, the Lord Vitalus’s steward, oversaw each matter with an eagle eye; everything was to be perfect. Daelia’s everyday duties did not change very much; the pace at which that work was done simply increased. From before dawn until long after dusk, she helped prepare food, cleaned and polished silver plates and goblets, swept and laid fresh rushes and herbs over the floors, fetched water from the well in the courtyard, straightened bedchambers, cleaned fireplaces, went to market for Cook, assisted Briden with the piles of wash, and carried out various tasks in every part of the castle.

Every once in a while, Livea Vitalus would stroll through the Cook’s hall, inspecting the progress and giving her advice and opinion of each delicacy Cook prepared. She paused on one of her walks through the kitchen to examine the pewter goblets Daelia was polishing carefully as to leave no spot on their surface.

“Be sure you look at them from every angle; the governor’s son cannot drink from a dirty cup, now can he?

Just as easily as you or I. “No, my lady, of course not.”

“Just be sure they are spotless; the plates too.”

“Yes, my lady.” The mistress of the castle had never hovered about the kitchen so much during the preparations for feasts. Lady Vitalus reminded Daelia of a worried mother hen. Right now she had swept regally over to where Cook sat on a stool, plucking the feathers from a fat goose. Daelia studied her out of the corner of her eyes as she argued with Cook about the best way to prepare the fowl; whether to boil it or roast it. Her dark green kirtle was embroidered with gold thread, the long sleeves were trimmed with velvet, and a beautifully decorated pocket hung around her slender waist by a braided gold belt. Fair hair was tucked neatly beneath a matching hood that framed what many thought to be the most beautiful face in the city. Daelia agreed that the hazel eyes and flawless skin was indeed lovely, but thought that Livea’s hauty, almost petulant countenance marred her appearance.

At first, it had been strange to Daelia to think of the lady as being so much above her; she suspected the woman was no older than herself, perhaps even a little younger. She often wondered what had become of her master and mistress’s parents, the late Lord and Lady Vitalus; but she had yet to ask anyone.

The household servants loved to gossip about Eliam and Livea, other noble families, town events, and each other; it helped pass the time. She had heard snatches of comments about the Vitalus family, but always in whispered tones, and never enough to piece together. She was afraid she might be though rude for asking, so she had not. Perhaps Briden would be able to satisfy her curiosities.

Lady Vitalus finally became weary of arguing with the cook. “You shall roast the goose along with the mutton and the pork; this is the way Lord Aurelian prefers his fowl. Oh, and I want a platter of current-honey cakes on the table each evening; they are his favorite.”

To Daelia, she instructed, “See to it that plenty of herbs are sprinkled around the lord’s chair and in his bedchamber.”

Turning, she caught Briden just as the girl was trying to slip unnoticed out the door. “Be sure you take the utmost care with the table linens. If I find wrinkles in them like last time, she,” she motioned peevishly to Daelia, “shall have your pay for a month. Is that understood?”
Briden bowed her head respectfully, murmuring a “yes, milady” as the mistress of the castle swept out of the kitchen; no doubt to find a poor chambermaid to chastise.

“And perhaps in our spare time we can embroider a fancy cushion for the young lord to sit on so his bum will stay warm while he eats his cakes,” grumbled Cook as she dropped the whole goose into a pan of cool water. “As is we haven’t been running ourselves ragged just preparing enough food.”

In silent agreement, Daelia placed all the polished goblets on a shelf next to the pewter plates, bowls, and serving platters where they would sit until the first day of the feast.

She had never seen the son of Lord Severus, of whom she had heard much about these last several days ever since Lady Vitalus had received word that he would be attending the feast.
Briden told her that Livea sought to become his wife. Daelia was still somewhat ignorant of such workings, but as fond as Livea seemed to be of all things rich and important, it made sense that she would wish the position of wife to the future governor of Parsaena.

Tying the bag of herbs to her belt, Daelia left the Cook’s Hall, crossing the muddy courtyard on the walkway of stones and straw, laid down to make walking from the kitchen to the Great Hall less hazardous for the servers.

Grateful to be out of the stifling kitchen for the first time all day, she took a deep breath of the fresh air and gazed up at the gray sky that seemed prepared to pour down on them at any moment.

From the arched gate of the castle’s keep, Kinney the stable master was leading Lord Vitalus’s horse towards the stable; the master led the way, pulling off his riding gloves as he took long purposeful strides away from Kinney towards the North Hall.

Eliam Vitalus was not as handsome as his sister, nor did he possess any remarkable qualities or talents. In fact, he was quite aware of this fact, and it drove him to strive even harder to maintain an façade of importance. He knew that without his family name, any high social position would be none-existant. Now his focus, as well as his sister’s, rested entirely on preserving that position. The two of them lived for nothing more than to throw large celebrations and feasts, inviting the most prominent of the city’s noblemen and women with the hopes of strengthening their own image of wealth and status.

Even now he was returning from a visit to Parsaena’s Minister of Finance, Lord Amienes. It was simply a call of self-interest on Eliam’s part: a chance to strengthen his good standing with the keeper of the city’s purse-strings. As long as the name Vitalus was looked upon favorably by the Lord Amienes, Livea would continue to have the money necessary for hosting her feasts, at which Eliam took the opportunity to work on his social ties.

Of course he knew that the money for the “Nobility Allowance” came mostly from what had been taken from the peasants; he was aware of the heavy taxes being laid upon the poorer half of the city. What did it matter to him? He was not the governor, and as long as Governor Severus continued paying him such a generous allowance, he would not question the decisions made about such matters as the peasantry.

He had seen firsthand the consequences of challenging the governor’s decisions; many years ago, but not so many that he had forgotten. Yes, bad things happened when rebellious thoughts were voiced to the wrong people. Uprisings were swiftly crushed, rebels were hunted down and destroyed, and everyone suffered for it. Let the peasants work as slaves for the governor; he would not be the one to fight Severus on the matter. Bravery and boldness were not qualities much admired in Parsaena.

He knew that most of the other nobles held similar views. At first he had been a little unsure about the idea of enslaving peasants who could not pay the impossible taxes; but it had not bothered him for long. Each time Lord Amienes placed in his hand the generous Nobility Allowance, he became even less bothered; now he didn’t even think about it. After all, there were much more important matters to consider.

*****

The North Hall was a confusion of doors and passageways. Only the chambermaids frequented this wing of the castle enough to know it well. With her bag of herbs, Daelia opened various doors trying to find the bedchamber the governor’s son was to occupy. She had helped prepare some of the rooms in the passages closest to the Cook’s Hall, but she had never ventured this far before. In fact, she wasn’t sure she would even know the young lord’s bedchamber when she found it. Perhaps she had already passed it somewhere along the way…

“Looking for something?”

The voice in the otherwise silent hall caused Daelia to start; she whirled around.

It was only Serina, one of the maids. She was carrying a bucket and broom, most likely to sweep out the fireplace in one of the chambers.

“I’m to put more herbs in the Lord Severus’s chamber; can you tell me which one he is to occupy?”

Serina pointed past where Daelia stood, “End of the hall on the right; before the stairs. The bed has a red cover.”

Daelia followed Serina’s directions far down the passageway until she came to the curving stairway that led down to the first floor. The hall past the stairs was much darker where three slotted windows cast narrow patches of twilight across the opposite wall. At the end of the hallway, a door stood barely visible in the shadows.

This must be nearing the north-western tower, she reasoned. To her right was a large wooden door; the last one before the stairs. Ignoring her desire to explore farther, she opened the door to discover herself in the Lord Severus’s chamber, just as Serina had said she would. The bed was laid with a scarlet cover, with a matching scarlet canopy above. The room was decorated with new tapestries, and a beautiful rug was laid out before the fireplace atop the freshly spread rushes; all ready for the young lord’s stay.

Quickly, she sprinkled a generous amount of herbs over the floor and then re-tied the bag to her belt. She had just closed the chamber door behind her and was preparing to return to the cook’s hall, when she glanced down the dark hallway to the small door.
She wanted to know what lay beyond that door. After a brief argument with herself, knowing that she would be missed in the kitchen, curiosity got the better of her.

Glancing over her shoulder to be sure no one saw her, Daelia tiptoed through the darkness, coming to a stop in front of the strange door. It was probably locked. Gripping the handle, she pressed down on the latch. Much to her surprise, the latch moved freely and the door shifted open a crack. Pushing the door open slowly, Daelia looked once more behind her as she quickly slipped inside.