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A Time To Heal Chapter 4

Started by Evie, September 28, 2010, 01:50:59 PM

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Evie

Chapter Four


   December 1, 1132
   Rhemuth Castle

   The apartment was redolent with the fragrance of citrus and spice when Dhugal entered.  He took an appreciative sniff as he paused just inside the entrance to hand his damp cloak to his squire Séamidh.

   Duncan Michael and Mikhail stood over a thin layer of syrup-coated orange wedges, watching the glistening coating on them dry slowly.  Beside the hearth, Mirjana stirred a pot that, if Dhugal's nose was judging aright, contained small chunks of syrup-boiled ginger root being stirred into a drier mixture of sugar and spices to absorb the excess moisture from the ginger and coat it.  She lifted the spoon, carefully shaking the coated pieces of ginger it held onto a waiting parchment on a tray, separating them out so that none touched before sprinkling a mixture of sugar, ground cinnamon, and other aromatic spices over the coated slices.  She repeated this process several times until the parchment was covered with sugar-coated ginger and no chunks remained in the pot, then she moved the metal tray close to the fire to continue drying out the ginger.

   "Can we have candied rose petals too, Mama?"  Mikhail pleaded.

   "Roses are not in season during Advent," Mirjana told him regretfully, "but I shall make some for you next year once they're in bloom.  Candied violets too, if you'd like."

   Dhugal smiled in their direction as he and Séamidh walked past the small sitting area towards his private rooms further down the corridor.  He left his study door open as he settled onto a comfortable chair by his desk and straightened his legs so that his squire could help him remove the damp boots.  Through the open door, he could hear the conversation continue.

   "No, Duncan Michael, let the ginger dry out and cool first, then you may try some.  Mikhail, leave the oranges alone; I'm saving them for tonight.  You and Duncan Michael may share one, but leave the rest be."

   Dhugal turned his attention back to his squire, only half-listening to the voices coming from the front room as he handed Séamidh the boots to take care of, then settled back to peruse some correspondence.  One of the boys had evidently been caught poking a finger into an orange wedge and then licking it to taste the cooling syrup.  The sounds of maternal disapproval drifted down the corridor, followed by the clamor of disappointed voices as the source of temptation was moved out of their reach.  Dhugal suppressed a smile as he continued to read.

   "All right, boys; the candied ginger is cool enough to touch now.  You may each try one piece, but we need to save the rest for later."

   Dhugal stood to peek around the door, curious to see his son's reaction to the new confection.  As he expected, the toddler started chewing the treat with great enthusiasm, only to grimace and spit it back out a few moments later.  Fortunately the discarded wad of chewed ginger was clutched in his hand and not making the floor sticky.

   "Ah, is It too spicy?" Mirjana asked, swiftly divesting her husband's child of his half-chewed treat and tossing it into the fire, then wiping his hand clean.  "I'm sorry, sweeting. Perhaps in a few more years you'll learn to like it.  Mikhail didn't learn to like candied ginger until he was a little older."

   "I like it now, though, Mama," Mikhail said, giving his stepbrother a superior look.  "I'm not a baby any more!"

   Duncan Michael, his feelings hurt, started to pout.  Mirjana hastily intervened, wrapping the younger boy in a quick hug.  "Oh, but Duncan Michael isn't a baby either!  He just isn't accustomed to spicy foods yet.  It's a learned taste, Mika; surely you remember?"

   Mikhail scowled, fisting his hands on his hips as he stared at his mother, jealousy marring his normally content features.  "Well, you're just a woman; what do you know?"

   Dhugal waited for Mirjana's swift correction of her son's impertinence, but instead was surprised to see her eyes drop, her expression filling with pain, as she turned away to put up the tray of candied ginger in silence.  He raised an eyebrow, stepping out into the corridor and walking swiftly towards the boys, placing a hand on Mikhail's shoulder to ensure he had the lad's attention.  "You will apologize to your mother immediately."

   Mikhail's startled brown eyes shot upwards to meet Dhugal's frowning gaze.  "My lord?" he asked, startled.  Mirjana also turned, looking equally taken aback.

   "You will treat your mother with honor and respect at all times, even if you happen to disagree with her."

   "But...."  The boy looked confused now.  "She's a woman!"

   It was clear to Dhugal that as much as Mikhail might have feared his father, he had still looked up to him and had absorbed some attitudes that would need to be unlearned.  "Yes, she certainly is.  She is the woman who risked her own life to give life to you, and for that you owe her great honor."  He crouched down to look the young boy fully in the face.  "Your mother loves you very much, and shows her care for you in countless ways.  When you treat her like her feelings don't matter to you, you hurt her.  And as her husband—not to mention as a man—I am responsible for protecting her.  A woman is made to be cared for by her menfolk, not to be mistreated by them.  Do you understand?"

   "I--"  Mikhail looked up at his mother uncertainly.  "But.... Papa said...."  He bit his lip.

   Mirjana gave Dhugal a grateful look, then took her son's hand.  "I know, your father believed otherwise.  But son...."  She searched for a way to explain why Nikos's treatment of her had been wrong without saying anything that would make Mikhail feel like she was insulting his hero.  He was so young yet, too young to understand how evil his sire had truly been, much less to be able to accept that harsh truth yet.  "You know, my darling, everyone in the world makes mistakes at times," she finally said.  "Even, sometimes, your Papa."  She glanced at Dhugal again, hoping he would forgive the gross understatement.  To her relief, he made no comment, allowing the boy to absorb what she'd just said.

   At last Mikhail, looking anxious, asked, "Did I hurt you, Mama?"

   "You hurt my feelings, yes.  But I forgive you."

   Mikhail glanced at Dhugal, then down at his shoes.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.  "I...suppose you might know some things."

   It was not a model apology, perhaps, but it was a start, and judging from the radiant expression on his wife's face and the sudden welling of tears in her eyes, it was far more than she was accustomed to receiving.  Dhugal decided to let the attempt pass this time.  He straightened, crossing over to the mantel to sample a piece of the controversial candy.

   "It's just a little spicy, if you're not used to it...." Mirjana began apologetically.

   "I know; I love candied ginger."  He smiled.  "Thank you for making it."  He popped the morsel into his mouth, savoring the taste, then gallantly bowed over his wife's hand, making her smile and blush self-consciously.

   Mikhail watched him, taking silent note of the exchange.  Dhugal smiled down at him and Duncan Michael, who now looked composed again, the earlier insult to his pride forgotten.  "Did you lads remember to say thank you for the sugared oranges?"

   "Thank you," they both said dutifully, Duncan Michael's voice sounding a bit more enthusiastic, while Mikhail's sounded more thoughtful.

   "All right, then.  I suppose it's back to work for me."  Dhugal met Mirjana's eyes.  "If you have need of me, don't hesitate to let me know.  I'll leave the door open."

#

   December 5, 1132
   Rhemuth Castle


   Dhugal looked around at the utter bedlam that was the MacArdry apartment.  Ailidh sat in a corner of the solar, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around her as she nursed his daughter Trina, although occasionally when the din grew too loud she would issue a stern reprimand and the noise level would subside.  At this particular moment, three young boys—Ciaran, Mikhail, and Duncan Michael—were engaged in a rousing game of Bells and Pillows on one side of the room, while on the other side little Aine Rose sat rocking baby Jarrett's cradle and singing him a Border lullaby in a voice that was more enthusiastic than tuneful.

   "You know, a chara," the MacArdry teased his retainer's wife, "when God said to be fruitful and multiply and to fill the entire world, I'm fairly certain He didn't mean for Ailidh nicArdry to do the job all on her own."

   She snorted.  "Oh, hardly on my own, as you well know!  Don't forget, three of these little fallen angels belong to you, and as for my three, I certainly had Jass's help with getting those!"

   He grinned in wordless acknowledgment of her point, his eyes traveling around the room.  "Where is Mirjana?" he finally asked, surprised by her absence.  She rarely left the security of either their own apartment or Ailidh's unless it was to visit the Servants of Saint Camber, but on those visits she normally brought Mikhail so he could play with Rothana's son Albin.

   Ailidh shrugged.  "Gone to rest, I suppose.  She was telling a story to Aine Rose a little while ago, but she seemed a little distracted.  I think she had a headache.   I told her I'd watch your boys for a while if she wanted some time to herself, and she left shortly thereafter."  

   "I'd better go check on her, then."  He bent to kiss Ailidh's cheek, then peered down at his daughter, now done with her meal and hoisted up onto a blanket-covered shoulder for burping.  "Trina's filling out," he commented.

   "That she is.  Jass says at this rate, she'll be nearly as round as she is tall come next Saint Nicholas's Day."

   Dhugal laughed.  "Well, I trust she'll be weaned by then, not to mention running around chasing the bigger children, so that should trim her back down again."

   He left, going a short way down the corridor until he reached his own apartment.  A quick search within revealed that Mirjana was not at home, although a chambermaid mentioned that she had stopped by briefly not an hour past before leaving again, saying something about visiting the Queen's Tower.

   Dhugal thanked her for the information and headed for the Queen's solar, where he found Queen Araxie and Duchess Meraude as well as several ladies-in-waiting, but his wife was not among them.  

   "I'm glad you stopped by, Dhugal," Araxie told him in a low voice, taking him slightly aside out of earshot of the other ladies.  "Duke Matyas stopped by earlier in the week to bring some correspondence to Kelson, and he also dropped off a box meant for your lady wife.  I meant to give it to Mirjana the next time she came by, but I've not seen her since it arrived, nor have you been in the Great Hall often of late...."  Her gray eyes looked concerned.  "I hope she's been well?"

   Dhugal wasn't certain how to answer.  "She's in good health," he finally said, "although she has some days of despondency.  I think she's just more comfortable out of the public eye.  The last time we dined in the Great Hall was...a bit awkward for us both."

   Araxie sighed.  "I was afraid of that.  Meraude and I have tried to ensure that she feels welcome, but not all of the ladies are of like mind.  Well, if she's not comfortable with visiting us, I'll try to pay her a private call a bit later.  She might also just be the sort of person who is more comfortable in the company of just one or two ladies than around a larger group."  She smiled wryly.  "It took me a little while to adjust to having less privacy that I used to be accustomed to, when I moved here to Rhemuth."

   Dhugal looked surprised.  "I didn't realize you had any trouble learning to fit in here.  You seemed to take to Court life naturally."

   The Queen laughed.  "I went from being a prince's daughter to becoming a King's Consort.  Yes, there were growing pains of a sort."  She sobered, laying a hand on Dhugal's arm.  "You realize for Mirjana, the adjustment is going to be quite a bit more difficult?"

   He nodded.  "I'm beginning to realize that more and more, yes."

   "Well, at least while you're here in Rhemuth, I'll try to ease that as much as I'm able.  Shall I have a squire bring her present to you later tonight?  It's not a large box—Matyas had to bring it through the Transfer Portal along with Kelson's correspondence—but he said it contained a few items from Liam-Lajos that he hoped might make her feel a little less homesick."

   "Yes, I'm sure she'd appreciate that.  Thank you."

   He took his leave, starting to head back to his quarters, but a sudden disquieting thought occurred to him, and he turned back, taking the stairs up to the top of the Queen's Tower until he reached the door at the top of the castle wall.

   He saw her then, standing with her back to him a short distance away, the brisk December breeze whipping at her cloak as she stood looking off into the distance beyond the walls of Rhemuth.   His heart assumed its normal pace again as he realized that whatever she had come there for, she was obviously safe.  He had, for a few alarmed moments, wondered if her visit to the top of the Queen's Tower might have been made for the purpose of jumping off.  Not that he thought she'd reached quite that level of despondency—indeed, in the past few days she seemed to be doing somewhat better than she had been on that dark night when she'd shared a little of the burden of her past pain with him—but it was reassuring to know for certain that hadn't been her intent.

   He walked towards her slowly, though not overly quietly, hoping not to startle her by coming upon her unaware, for even though the outer edge of the wall was high enough to prevent anyone from an accidental fall through the crenelations, the same wasn't true of the inner retaining edge of the wall.  

   She turned as she heard his approach, and as she did, Dhugal saw her clutch a flat board protectively to her chest.

   He reached out his hand to her, palm raised, and she lay her own hand upon it.  Bowing slightly and raising it to his lips for a kiss, he told her, "I hoped I'd find you here.  I checked the Queen's Solar first, and Araxie said she'd not seen you, but she has a present for you from King Liam-Lajos which she'll have sent up later this evening."

   Mirjana's eyes lit up with curiosity.  "Laji sent me a present?"  She relaxed enough to give him a slight smile.

   Dhugal glanced at the board she was holding.  "If I may ask, what brings you up here on such a chilly day?"

   She blushed, looking down uneasily, but after a moment she lowered the board enough to show him the paper affixed to one side, a sketch of the view beyond captured on its surface in thin lines of charcoal.  Despite the roughness of the sketch, it showed considerable talent.

   "Your Rhemuth is very different from the cities in Arjenol, or even from Torenthály, but it is very beautiful in its own way," she said, looking nervous.  "I hope you don't mind if I try to draw a picture of it?"

   Dhugal was puzzled.  "I don't mind; you certainly seem to have a talent for it.  Did you think I'd object?"

   She bit her lip.  "In my father's house, my artistic endeavors were encouraged.  I had a tutor who taught me how to sketch and paint.  But after I married, Nikos said it was a frivolous waste of time and wouldn't allow me to buy materials anymore, so I stopped."  She shrugged.

   "I am not Nikos," her new husband said gently.  "I've established that fairly well by now, I hope?"

   "Oh, yes!"  Mirjana said, beginning to look alarmed.  "I meant no insult...."

   Dhugal sighed.  "I know you didn't.  I simply meant you needn't fear I'm going to be unreasonable about you pursuing interests you enjoy."  His lips quirked.  "Unless you mean to paint Rhemuth Castle pink or anything extreme like that...."

   She burst into laughter at the unexpected jest, losing her anxious expression.  "Your King isn't fond of pink?"

   "Not overly so," Dhugal said, grinning openly now.  "At least I don't recall ever seeing him wear the color, so I doubt he'd appreciate having his entire royal residence turned into a pink palace."  

#

   Mirjana sat in her bedchamber late that evening, musing over the changes in her life since coming to Rhemuth.

   In just under half a year, she had been widowed, taken prisoner, had feared for her life and that of her son, had been pardoned, had seen her late husband's accomplices executed, sought solace among the Servants of Saint Camber, been offered sanctuary in the Court of Rhemuth, and remarried a man who was nothing like her first husband.  Her life had changed with dizzying speed, and she still felt awkward and out of place in this foreign culture, among strangers.  Still, for the first time in five years she felt some moments of contentment, if not yet outright happiness.  

   It felt...odd, not to fear a husband.  To actually find herself liking him, wishing she knew more about how to be a proper wife so she could please him.  Hoping that maybe he liked her just a little bit, even if....

   Even If he didn't seem to find her desirable.  That baffled her.  Oh, not that a man might not find her attractive—she knew that one man's idea of attractive was another man's idea of plain, and perhaps this man simply preferred a different sort of woman.  But it baffled her because he had been the one to offer for her, the one to seek out a betrothal as soon as he believed himself fully free to remarry, because he hoped for another chance for sons.  Or so he had said, anyway.  Yet he had not come to her again since their wedding night, and while she had to admit that had been a bit of a relief in the earliest days of their marriage, over two weeks had passed now and he'd shown no signs of interest in trying again.  Had the people of Gwynedd not yet discovered what caused babies?  Surely they couldn't be so far behind the people of Torenth as that!  No, he must have gotten the idea somehow that he was doing her a kindness.  Yes, that had to be it.  

   She picked up the smaller of two boxes beside her bed, tears pricking her eyes as she lifted the lid.  It contained vials of pigment, ready to be mixed with oil or glair, and a small selection of brushes.  She hadn't asked for the paint box, but he had managed to find one for her nonetheless.  She closed the lid again, one finger stroking its smooth surface thoughtfully.

   The other box was also unexpected.  It had contained a short letter from the King of Torenth, as well as a small assortment of spices, fragrances, a pair of ornamental hair combs and some other Torenthi items he had said he hoped would help to ease any homesickness she might be feeling.  It was a most thoughtful present, especially given that she had not seen her distant cousin since they had both been young children, before the death of his father and his subsequent fosterage in the King of Gwynedd's Court, and they had not even been all that close, for her father had not been very partial to either Lionel or Morag and had kept obligatory visits to that branch of the family to a minimum.  Liam-Lajos was only a year younger, but even as a small boy he had mainly played with the other boys, and had only played with Mirjana if she were the only playmate near their age available.  She was vaguely surprised he even remembered her anymore.

   She returned her attention to the first box, the gift from her new husband.  Even if he didn't desire her, he seemed to value her at least somewhat.  His words to her son had shown that.  He cared, at least a little, about her feelings.  

   It was a start.  Now she must figure out how to build on that beginning, how to turn his attention to her so that maybe he would realize she was ready to become a proper wife to him, if only he would show her how to be one.  If only she could interest him enough to want to show her how.  How else, after all, could he get the sons he needed?  How else might she get the daughter she longed for, one which could never replace her little Gia or her daughters never born, but which might, perhaps, help ease the pain of losing them just a bit?  How could she persuade him that he need not avoid her anymore, if in fact he was doing so out of a desire to be kind?

   As she stood looking at both presents, a plan began to form.


Chapter 5: http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=504.0
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

DesertRose

Ooh, what is Mirjana going to do? :)

Good stuff, Evie.
"If having a soul means being able to feel love, loyalty, and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans."

James Herriot (James Alfred "Alfie" Wight), when a human client asked him if animals have souls.  (I don't remember in which book the story originally appeared.)

Evie

Why, thank you!   :D

Let's see how much of Chapter Eight I can get finished by Friday.  If I'm far enough along, I'll hopefully post Chapter Five then, and you can find out for yourself.   ;)
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

AnnieUK

I've heard of painting the town red, but painting a castle pink is a new one on me!

I think Rhemuth would look very fetching in pink, actually.  Were you thinking more of a baby pink, rose pink, or were you going to go the whole hog and go for cerise?

Evie

Cerise might clash with the Christmastide reds and greens.   ;D
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Alkari

QuoteHad the people of Gwynedd not yet discovered what caused babies?  Surely they couldn't be so far behind the people of Torenth as that!
*snorts*

Nice chapter, and poor little Mikhail, having been taught those attitudes and now having to adjust and unlearn them.  Hard for a little boy that age to discover his revered father wasn't perfect  :(

derynifanatic64

#6
Mikhail definitely feels that women are inferior to men.  Since he's still young, I hope that he will eventually unlearn this biased behavior.  But it will take time and only time will tell.

Whatever plan is forming in Mirjana's mind, I have a feeling that she will be planning to seduce her new husband.  If so, Dhugal will have no chance.
We will never forget the events of 9-11!!  USA!! USA!!

Evie

Quote from: derynifanatic64 on September 29, 2010, 06:14:21 PM
Mikhail definitely feels that women are inferior to men.  Since he's still young, I hope that he will eventually unlearn this biased behavior.  But it will take time and only time will tell.

Fortunately he's only 4, and just parroting what he's seen and heard with no real understanding yet.  At heart he's not a bad kid, though like everyone, he has the occasional grumpy day.

Quote
Whatever plan is forming in Mirjana's mind, I have a feeling that she will be planning to seduce her new husband.  If so, Dhugal will have no chance.

*Glances at pic of Mirjana at end of "The Killing Season" thread*   Well, whatever she's up to, it won't involve playing that piano ....  :D
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Alkari

Quote from: Evie on September 29, 2010, 07:37:21 PM
Well, whatever she's up to, it won't involve playing that piano ....  :D 

Hmm - what's that saying about music being the food of love?   ;)   


Evie

Well, they also say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but Mirjana tried that once and thought it was a dismal failure.   :D
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

DesertRose

Quote from: Evie on September 29, 2010, 10:35:15 PM
Well, they also say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but Mirjana tried that once and thought it was a dismal failure.   :D

I wouldn't call it a dismal failure.  He did like the candied ginger; it just didn't inspire any amorous behavior. :)
"If having a soul means being able to feel love, loyalty, and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans."

James Herriot (James Alfred "Alfie" Wight), when a human client asked him if animals have souls.  (I don't remember in which book the story originally appeared.)

Evie

#11
LOL!  Oh, that's right, there was that too.  I was referring to the time she tried to cook a stew, but didn't have the spices she was used to, so it turned out bland.  Then again, given Dhugal's loss of appetite at the time, even the best of Torenthi cuisine would've been utterly wasted on him, so it's probably for the best she didn't have her heart set on winning him over that way.   :D

At least she got a gallant bow over her hand for the candied ginger.  I suppose that would be counted as progress....   ;D
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Alkari

We look forward to her progress  ;)

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