Chapter 15

Aurelian sat down in the heavy wooden chair and stretched out his weary legs appreciatively under the linen shrouded table. The men of the party had returned from a hunt only an hour before, and Aurelian found that his appetite was back to normal after a long day out of doors. Freshly changed but still smelling of sun and pine, he reclined against the chair and breathed in deeply the aromas of freshly roasted boar and stag. Like the previous five evenings, a wealth of food lay out, ready to be consumed by the hungry guests, and still more was being carried in by servants. Elian Vitalis, in his place at the middle of the horseshoe-arranged tables, stood as his sister took her seat as hostess next to him, then turned towards the servants standing on one side of the room and clapped loudly to signal that wine was to be poured. The feast began.

Aurelian filled his plate and began to eat ravenously. It was no wonder really, for he hadn’t eaten much since his first meal at Castle Caerlock. His spirits were oddly high this evening and he had almost enjoyed himself during the hunt, riding hard across the hills and forests outside Parsaena. He had felt a sort of momentary freedom on the other side of the city walls, but perhaps he was just relieved to spend an entire day away from Livea’s ceaseless attentions.

Stabbing a hunk of venison with his eating knife he lifted it to his mouth to take a bite, but then stopped. Across the hall was a young woman, dressed as a servant and pouring wine into goblets as quickly as the guests emptied them. Normally he took no notice of servants, but this one caught his attention, mostly because her appearance little resembled the other servants. Her movements were fluid and graceful, her body rounded and strong, her back straight, and her chin held high. As she worked her way around the long, conjoined tables he continued to eat, but did not take his eyes off of her. Curled, bronze tendrils escaped her maidservant’s head-covering and the simple green garment she wore was too large and draped over her like a mossy robe. She seemed to belong outside among nature and appeared as out of place in the smoky hall as would have a tree.

Determined to examine the girl more closely, he quickly swallowed the contents of his own goblet and lifted it to signal for more. The girl noticed and started toward him, keeping her eyes respectfully to the floor without lowering her chin even a fraction. As she leaned over his right shoulder to refill his goblet with wine he studied her face openly, causing her cheeks to redden. She was embarrassed and this amused him. As she finished her task and began to move away he caught her wrist, causing her to almost drop the pitcher in his lap.

All pretense of servile reticence disappeared in an instant. The girl’s brown eyes suddenly left the floor and glared at him in a mixture of anger, disgust, and fright as she struggled to escape his grasp. Her hand came up as though to strike him, but then stopped as though the girl had realized what she had been about to do.

“Unhand me this instant or you will wish you had!” She hissed quietly so that only he could hear.

Astonished by the ferocity with which she ordered him, he released her wrist and she moved swiftly away from him. Did the foolish girl know that such a reaction to a noble – not to mention the governor’s son – could land her in prison or worse? He was not angered, however, only intrigued. He glanced around to see if anyone had observed the brief exchange, but everyone else was absorbed in either their food or the noisy acting troupe, the first of the evening’s entertainments.

Aurelian wasn’t interested in the play they were performing, he had seen it before. He had seen just about everything before, again and again. Truth be known, he was bored with his life in general. Maybe this was why the strange serving girl interested him; she seemed different than the people who had surrounded him every day of his life.

He sought her out once again. She was halfway down the table, filling goblets. Her hand was unsteady, he noticed, and her cheeks were still flushed. Then he noticed that he was not the only one watching the girl: the young Lord Tanen was ogling her openly from the end of the table where she was pouring him more wine.

The displeasure that he felt was suddenly coupled with a realization of the irony of the feeling. Why should he care? She was only a servant after all. He turned back to the feast and his wine, but his good spirits were dampened as another cloud of frustration overcame him. Though Livea looked displeased when he stood up, after a second serving of wine he abandoned the party for the seclusion of his own chamber and the opportunity to wallow in self-pity.
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The detestable young man hadn’t touched her the second time she approached him to refill his goblet, a service she gave most unwillingly and with no charade of amiability. He had only watched her with some kind of petulant scowl on his face, thrown back his entire goblet of wine in one gulp, and hastily left the hall. Good, maybe she had ruined his evening. He very well deserved worse than that, she thought as she rubbed her bruised wrist.

In the hallway between the hall and kitchen Daelia ducked into a dark corner and flattened herself against the wall, wishing for invisibility. Resting her head against the cold stone she drew a deep ragged breath and tried to relax the death grip she held on the silver pitcher in her hands. Of all the nights for the serving girl to run off with a stable hand…Of course Daelia had been called to fill her spot even though she had no experience in serving. Handing her a simple green garment and head covering, Serina, the head serving woman, instructed her to simply keep all of the goblets filled. Despite the ill-fitting garment previously worn by the run-away serving girl, she had managed to fulfill her duties without mishap—at least until the governor’s son had overstepped himself.

Her heart would not stop pounding even after the young lord quit the hall. She was embarrassed and angry; embarrassed by the attention and the way he had looked at her, angered that her position had prevented her from physically defending herself on pain of death. Even after a year, the helplessness and injustice of servitude rankled her, and it probably always would. The repression of her position was adverse to every instinct and feeling, rebellion always threatening to come out either in her actions or words. The fight against her own pride and stubboness was a daily stuggle, one she was not certain she could win.

When she reached the hot, smelly kitchen Briden was waiting for her by a large barrel of wine. Concern appeared in her eyes when she saw the paleness of Daelia’s face. Taking the pitcher from the white hands, Briden refilled it from the barrel and passed it back to Daelia.

“Are you going to faint?” the young woman asked glancing at the cook who was too busy at the fire to notice them.

“No, I’ll be fine.” But Briden gave her a knowing look and squeezed her arm comfortingly.

“Here, drink of this,” she instructed, holding a jar up to Daelia’s lips.

The watered-down ale helped to bring some of the blood back into her face and the feeling back into her hands.

“Now hurry back to the hall before you are missed. And don’t be fearful of the guests. Just keep your head down and the cups full and they will soon be too filled with wine to do anything but sleep. So go now; the night will soon be over.” She tucked a few curls back under Daelia’s cap and gave her a gentle push towards the door.

***
Daelia uttered an oath under her breath in frustration, something she immediately regretted, and turned her head slightly to be sure no one had heard her. The young lord was staring at her again, watching every move! Fortunately, he had not touched her again as she went about her second evening as a serving girl. Thank Deus, this was the last night of feasting, and all the guests would depart on the morrow. Standing in a corner, she played with rough fabric of her sleeve nervously, trying to ignore the man across the room.

At that exact moment, however, Aurelian was not watching Daelia. Lord Tanen, a young man whom Aurelian loosly considered a friend, was watching her instead. This Aurelian noted with the same annoyance he had felt the night before. He watched Tanen as Tanen watched the serving girl. He didn’t like the look in his friend’s eyes: hungry, but not for food, and almost ravenous when the girl came near. In fact, she had been drawing looks from several of the males in the hall, and this worried Aurelian.

Just then Livea turned to him and began to speak of the ride the whole party had taken that afternoon, speaking in rapturous tones of the speed of the horses, the hot day, and his own skills of horsemanship. He tried for a while to appear as though he was listening. For a moment he envied the serving girl her place so far across the room from the Lady Vitalis

By the gods! Why do I give a second thought about a servant? I must be going mad.

He knew exactly why she had drawn his eye, but the longer he observed her movements, the less he cared about her face and began to wonder about her as a person.

Yes, I am going mad. Without a doubt. Livea was still talking, laughing daintily every once in a while at her own witty comments.

The light of the fire set the bronze of the servant girl’s hair aflame. Her skin seemed to glow from an inner light. He couldn’t tear his attention away from her. He wondered what she was thinking, what she felt behind those dark eyes.

If I am indeed going mad, there’s not much to be done about it. Medically speaking, that is. Father’s brother went mad, began ranting about evil and demons and such, so perhaps it’s in the family. Father certainly shows signs of strange—what the devil am I going on about?

Aurelian shook himself out of his ridiculous thoughts and turned back to Livea, but not before glancing at Tanen whose eyes were still locked on the girl. Somehow he knew there would be trouble, and it would be between the young lord and himself, and it would be regarding the serving girl. He wished he knew her name.