Author Topic: Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 19  (Read 4981 times)

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Offline Evie

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 19
« on: July 17, 2010, 01:16:47 am »
Chapter Nineteen

   “So, how is the patient settling in?”

   Sophie jumped up from her chair, eyes alight with relief to see Bishop Duncan standing at the entrance of the small apartment Kelson had set aside for Sir Stefan de Varnay.  “He’s still in some pain, but the King’s own physician has prescribed strong wine for it…with a bit of something stronger mixed in as well, I believe.  But Stefan’s growing stronger each day, they say, and they expect him to make a full recovery.  Well, except for his arm.  They’ve reset it, but it was so badly fractured, it might never be quite right again, they told me.”

   “Hm.  May I have a look at it?”  

   Sophie looked up at Duncan, belatedly realizing he wasn’t simply a bishop, but a Deryni healer as well.  “Oh, would you!  I never even thought about….”  She blushed.  “Could you do something for him?”

   “I do believe that’s why Kelson send me down here,” Duncan assured her with a smile.  “Is your brother awake still, or has he drifted off again?”

   “I’m not sure.  He was awake a few minutes ago, but he just had a bit more wine. We can find out.”  

   Duncan led the way into the bedchamber where the patient lay, attended by a physician and a matronly woman wearing a nun’s habit and veils.   The physician looked up as he approached.

   “Ah.  Bishop McLain!  His Majesty said you’d be stopping by.  Sister Therese, this is the healer we were discussing earlier.”

   The nun gazed up at Duncan with frank curiosity.  “The Deryni healer?  I look forward to watching you work, my lord Bishop.”

   Duncan smiled, looking pleasantly surprised by the welcome, not to mention relieved to be encountering mere curiosity and not outright hostility.  “A pleasure to meet you, Sister.  Well, let’s take a look at the patient.”  He moved over to the bedside.  “Hello, Sir Stefan, I’m Duncan McLain.  I’ve been asked to have a look at your injuries.  How’s it going today?”

   The hazel eyes fluttered open.  “…you’re…Sophie’s bishop?  Gotta stop teaching her…military tactics….handed my arse back to me that last game….”

     Sophie laughed.  Duncan cast an inquisitive look over his shoulder at her.  “Did that make any sense to you?”

   “Um…yes, actually.”  She averted her eyes, willing down a blush.  “I’ll explain later.”

   Duncan turned back to the patient.  “All right, Sir Stefan.  Besides that, how are you feeling?”

   Stefan’s eyes remained closed, but his lips twitched.  “Awful, m’lord bishop.  Had a dozen women this week…coming right to my bed…tending my every need…and damn it, they’re all nuns!”

   The bishop roared with laughter.  Looking over at the royal physician, he commented, “I think the man’s going to live.”

   “Oh, you think?” the physician returned with a wry grin.

   Sister Therese chuckled.  “He’s been like this since he woke up.  The convent infirmary was…a rather lively place for a while.  I may have to treat some of the sisters for shock.”  

   “Pretty blonde one…was she under final vows?” Stefan whispered.

   The nun sighed.  “Yes, my lord.”  She patted his uninjured arm.  “I keep trying to tell you, Sir Stefan; a convent really isn’t the best place for a young bachelor to meet eligible women.”

   Duncan suppressed another laugh as he carefully laid hands on the splinted arm, closing his eyes and reaching out with his Deryni senses to assess the damage.  The arm had been tended to skillfully, but the fractures were so complex that it had been difficult to line up all the broken pieces again, and some were still out of proper alignment.  He visualized the bones as they should be, reaching over to the uninjured arm for a quick comparison, then continued his work on the injured arm, using his Deryni powers to nudge the fragments back into a position that would allow them to set properly, then accelerating the healing in the limb, restoring it to wholeness.  

   “So, what are you prescribing for Sir Stefan besides a wife?”  Duncan asked, glancing up at the physician and the infirmarian before turning his attention to the knight’s other injuries.  

   “Willow bark powder to help ease the pain, talicil and feverfew to keep the fever down, astragalus and goldenseal to fight off infection.  Also honey, both to help ward off infection and to make the medicine more palatable.  And strong wine, of course.”

   Duncan’s hands moved to Stefan’s head, sensing the extent of the head injury.  There were signs of recent concussion, but no skull fractures.  Duncan sent more healing power to the area to speed up the recovery process.  “I understand he had some sword injuries?” he murmured as he finished.

   The nun stared at the bishop’s healing hands, transfixed, though at his question she brought herself back to the moment and met his questioning gaze.  “Yes.”  She lowered the blanket, revealing the knight’s bandaged chest.  “He took several deep gashes after he lost his shield arm.  I think he briefly lost consciousness from the pain and shock, and the brigands took advantage.  As you see, they’re mostly on that left side; he was lying on his right side when he fell.  It’s a good thing he didn’t land on his sword blade.”

   She helped him unwrap the bandages, laying them to one side.  Duncan saw the cuts were already on the way to healing naturally, but he sped the process along as he had done with the other injuries.  At last Sir Stefan lay quietly, the drugged wine having taken effect, but his body appeared whole.  The infirmarian ran her fingers over the places where the gashes had been, lingering longer on the shield arm, gentle fingers probing the bone to assess its wholeness.  She looked up at the bishop with eyes filled with wonder.

   “Did you already know you had a healing gift when you took holy vows?” she asked him.

   Duncan shook his head.  “No, I only discovered it a few years ago.”

   She sighed.  “It’s a pity you’re a bishop; you would’ve made a wonderful infirmarian.  But I’ve heard you have a son who bears the gift as well, yes?  He isn’t called to a vocation, is he?”

   The bishop smiled at the thought.  “No.  I believe it would take the entire Cassani army to force my son into a cassock.”

   The infirmarian laughed.  “Well, that’s good!  If it’s a heritable gift, he needs to wed, and quickly.  God knows we need more healers in this world.”  She sighed.  “Even if they’re not called to holy vows.  Maybe especially if they’re not called to holy vows.  The more, the better.”  She sighed wistfully.  “I know I’d welcome lay healers in my infirmary, if they could produce those kinds of results!”  Her brown eyes twinkled.  “I shall pray he has a very fruitful marriage.”

   Duncan chuckled.  “More healers.  I’ll tell Dhugal to get right to work on that.”


   “How are you feeling?”  Sophie brought her brother a goblet of water, helping him sit to drink it.

   He looked down. “I feel…great!”  He stared at her, flexing his left arm.  “I only vaguely remember….He did this, didn’t he?  The Deryni bishop you mentioned in your letters?”

   “Yes.  The King asked him to look in on you.”

   Stefan looked down, gingerly feeling the places where his scars had been.  There was some lingering tenderness and redness, but no sign that they had been life-threatening.  “I should thank him.”

   “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to,” Sophie said with a smile.  “He said he’d come by to check on you again later tonight.”

   Stefan nodded, staring distracted out the window.  “Sophie….the Earl of Carthane came by this morning, just after I woke up.  Has he told you…Are you aware of the state of Kestrel Mote’s finances?”

   She sighed.  “Oh, yes.  I’ve been going over the reports.  So it’s certain; Alienora is returning to her family?”

   He snorted.  “Well, I’ve not had much of a chance to ask her yet, but do you think it’s likely she’ll choose to stay?”  He closed his eyes.  “There’s no help for it, Sophie.  I’ll just have to find a wife.” He gave a mirthless chuckle.  “A wealthy one, but one who doesn’t mind intermarrying with a penniless knight’s family.”  He sighed.  “I suppose I’ll be chatting up a lot of rich merchants’ daughters in the next few days.”

   “Oh, Stefan….”  Sophie lay her cheek on her brother’s arm.  “Surely there’s got to be some other way out than that!”

   “Well, if you think of one, be sure to let me know! I don’t like the idea any better than you do.”  He turned to look at her.  “So, how’s your Arilan?”

   She blushed.  “Well enough, I suppose.”

   “Any talk of marriage yet?”

   She chuckled softly.  “No.”

   “No?  Why not?  What’s wrong with the man?”

   Sophie laughed.  “Nothing!  You know, Stefan, there’s a bit more to getting to know someone than just ‘Hello, you look marriageable, so how about it, want to wed and make babies now?’”

   Stefan smiled.  “I suppose.”  He brought his sister’s hand to his lips to bestow a light kiss on her fingertips.  “I just want to see you taken care of, Sophie.  And Seisyll could do the job a lot better than I can right now.”  He took a deep breath, let it back out in a gusty sigh.

   “Don’t worry about that, Stefan.  Just focus on resting and recovering.  I don’t think the King is getting ready to kick us out into the streets just yet.”

   “Yes, I know.  But Rhemuth life is expensive, and I don’t want to take undue advantage of Kelson’s generosity.  He’s going to expect me to be trying to get my feet back under me sometime, you know.”

   “Yes, I know.  But not necessarily today.”  She kissed his brow.  “I told my house-sisters I’d meet them for the noon meal, but I’ll be back.  Shall I bring you back something, or are you still on physician-prescribed meals?”

   He grimaced.  “Yes, and yes.  Some hot meat would be greatly appreciated, or at least something that looks like it once had a nodding acquaintance with a beast.  If anyone tries to feed me more gruel, I’m likely to fling the bowl at his head.”

   “Understood.  No gruel.”  She smiled.  “Don’t be difficult, Stefan.  I’ll be back in a bit.”


   Stefan was finishing off the last of his roast capon when Sir Seisyll arrived.  “So.  You're trying to chat up pretty young nuns, now, I hear.  That's a new low for you, isn't it?”

   The patient laughed.  “Who told you that, Sophie?”

   “Who else?”  Seisyll grinned, pulling up a chair by Stefan's bedside.  “I also hear you've been healed.”

   “Pretty much.”  Stefan pointed out the areas where his injuries had been.  “The King's physician wants me to rest another day or two just to get my strength back—I was unconscious for a few days—but then I suppose it's back to my normal routine again.”  He sighed.  “Whatever that is, now.”  He polished off the last bite of capon and set the trencher to one side.  “That's a lot more fortifying than gruel.”

   Seisyll chuckled. “I can imagine.”  He studied Sophie's brother a long moment.  “Sophie says you're talking about needing to marry.”  He smiled wryly.  “She's pretty upset about it.”

   Stefan shrugged.  “Reality of life.  Can't say I'm too thrilled either, but  we all have to settle down sometime.”  He glanced out the window.  “It's not how I'd hoped to go about it, but it's not like the responsibilities are going to go away, are they?”

   Seisyll shook his head.  “No, they're not.”  The two men sat in silence for a few moments, then Seisyll asked, “Thinking about any lady In particular?”

   Stefan snorted.  “Not really.  Know anyone rich, of childbearing age, and not so dire I'll have to slip a bag over her head to bed her?”

   The King's agent chuckled.  “I might.”  He leaned back with a faint smile.  “If you're seriously looking and are willing to consider her.”

   Stefan looked sharply at his friend.  “Wait.  You're serious.”

   “Yes.”  Seisyll regarded his former training companion.  “Sophie showed me Carthane's report on Kestrel Mote.  I understand her qualms about you rushing into marriage, but I also agree with you that it's probably going to be necessary.   At least I'm failing to come up with any other options either, short of going to the moneylenders, and that would only be a temporary solution.  Finding a wife takes care of two needs, not just one.”

   “It would.”  Stefan gave Seisyll a wry smile.  “Sounds really easy when you're not the one facing the decision, doesn't it?”  He sighed.  “So, tell me about this rich lady.  What's wrong with her?”

   Seisyll chuckled.  “What makes you think something's wrong with her?”

   “Well, she's rich, of marriageable age, and yet she's not married.  You're mentioning her as an option as if an impoverished knight like myself actually has a chance of gaining such a prize, so if that's the case, there has to be something wrong with her.  So what is it?  Is she old?”

   Seisyll shook his head.  “Not really.  A bit older than the average first time bride, but she's younger than we are.  Around twenty, I think.”

   “All right.  Ugly, then.”

   “Well, that's a matter for personal opinion, but I've never thought so.”  Seisyll reached into his doublet, pulling out a miniature portrait.  “What do you think?”  He tilted his head to study it himself.  “She's a little older now—I think she was sixteen when this was painted—but it's still a close resemblance.”

   Stefan studied the miniature.  A young woman's face looked back at him, raven-black hair like a silken curtain framed an oval face with olive skin and dusky roses In her cheeks.  Golden-amber eyes framed by long dark lashes smiled back at him above a nose slightly tilted at the end and a generous mouth tilted slightly upwards at each corner.  He stared back up at Seisyll, one eyebrow climbing skyward.  “Are you serious?”

   “Yes.”  Seisyll's faint smile grew  slightly wider.  “You interested now?”

   Stefan's eyes turned wary.  “What's the catch?  There has to be one.  No woman who looks like that and has a good dowry goes to her twentieth year without a husband unless there's something wrong.  Is she missing a limb?  Or does she have the pox?  Or maybe she's been violated, or she's got a wasting disease....Look, man, just tell me!  I just need to know what I'd be getting into.”  He studied Seisyll suspiciously.  “Why haven't you married her, if she's such a catch?”

   Seisyll laughed.  “I thought about it.  I've known her half my life, and have always been fond of her.  But we're a little too closely related.”  He shrugged.  “Not so much so that a dispensation couldn't have been obtained, but there are good reasons for consanguinity laws.”  He shook his head.  “Didn't want to take a chance with my heirs.”  He leaned back with a smile, knowing he'd piqued the other knight's interest.  “All right.  Here's the downside, if downside it is.  It will be up to you to decide if the difficulties are insurmountable.  One reason she's still unmarried at twenty is that she has a very doting father who has two primary qualifications for the man who wins her hand.  The first is that he must be a man his daughter is willing to accept, because he'll not force her into a marriage bed with someone she can't stomach.  The second is that he would strongly prefer a Deryni husband for her.  Naturally, those are rather difficult to find nowadays in Gwynedd, so there haven't been all that many coming forward to make offers.”  

   Stefan studied Seisyll warily, wondering how much the man knew about his family's heritage.  Had Sophie told him?  “He wants a Deryni husband for her?”  he repeated, just to make sure he hadn't misheard.

   “That's correct.  And there's one other issue.  Some men might think it's one that would make her not worth a second look; others wouldn't have a problem with it.  She's deaf.”  He held up a hand before Stefan could speak.  “But she can read lips quite fluently, as long as you are facing her, and she lost her hearing after she learned how to talk, so she is still able to speak.  Her speech is fairly clear, although she sounds as if she has a bit of an accent.  And, being Deryni, she can Mind-Speak.  In fact, I suspect she prefers that.  Much easier for her than lip-reading or working to speak clearly, I would imagine.”

   Stefan nodded slowly.  “Is it a heritable defect, though?”

   Seisyll shook his head.  “No.  She had the scarlet fever as a young child.”

   Stefan sat in thought for a long moment.  “I would want to meet her first before I decide, just to make sure we'd actually suit.  And are you sure her father would even consider me for her hand?  I haven't much to offer besides a roof to put over her head...and she'll probably need to pay for the roof repairs!”  He sighed.  

   Seisyll nodded.  “I think, as long as you promise to make a home for his daughter, and that you'll treat  her kindly and with care, and not just as a breeder for heirs, that you'll find her father willing to consider your suit—at least if someone he trusts vouches for you, which I'll do.  Despite her wealth and her beauty, she really hasn't had many serious offers, and the ones she's had were from men she'd rather not have—too old, too ugly, just looking for a beautiful bride to bed.  She's a realist; she'll know she's being courted as much for her dowry as anything else.  But given your circumstances, I think she'll also be understanding of that, as long as she's not made to feel that's all you want.”  He gave Stefan a warning smile.  “And do remember, I'm very fond of the girl.  I may be recommending her as a bride, but if I ever learn you've hurt her, I'll not hesitate to deck you a second time.”

   Stefan snorted.  “The first time was enough, thank you.”  He glanced at Seisyll.  “How is Lady Javana?”

   “My sister does well.”  Seisyll considered Stefan a long moment.  “What I interrupted between you—would you have stopped, if I hadn't happened along?”

   Stefan flushed.  “I...might have.  I'd meant to, but...I wasn't exactly thinking clearly at the time.”  He gave Seisyll a wry smile.

   “Were you planning on offering for her?”

   Stefan looked away.  “I considered it, yes.  But....I wasn't ready to settle down yet.”  A flash of pain flickered briefly in the hazel eyes.  “And I've nothing to offer her now, at any rate.”

   Seisyll nodded.  “She was betrothed last August.  They're planning the wedding for this May.”

   Stefan closed  his eyes.  “Well...that's good.  I wish her well.”  He took a deep breath, opened his eyes again.  “So, what's the pretty heiress's name?”

   Seisyll's blue-violet eyes met his sympathetically.  “Lady Lisette Aurelia Michonne de Courcy.”

   “How soon can I meet her?”

   Seisyll stood.  “They came to Rhemuth shortly before Twelfth Night, and as far as I know, they're still here.  I'll speak with her father and see how soon I can arrange a meeting.”


   Seisyll stopped by Sophie's apartment on his way out.  The Contessa gave him permission to have a private conversation with her in the window embrasure.

   His Majesty says you're courting me, Sophie Mind-Spoke as soon as they were alone together.  Are you?

   He chuckled.  He did, did he? He studied her. Do you mind? I think we're better acquainted now than we were when the subject first came up.  He reached for her hand.  Sophie, courtship isn't binding.  If you decide later that I'm not the man you want, you only need to tell me so, and I'll stop.  We can still take things slowly, if you're not ready to consider a betrothal yet. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips lightly.  

    She blushed. I do enjoy spending time with you.

    He smiled. I'm glad.  I'm enjoying getting to know you better.  He turned her hand over, planting a kiss in her palm and closing her fingers around it.  I've just been by to visit Stefan.

   Oh!  I should go back down and check in on him again.  Unless he was going to try to get more rest?   Sophie looked at him inquiringly.

    I doubt he can sleep at the moment.  I've just told him I would make a few inquiries with a family friend to arrange a match between Stefan and his daughter.

    Sophie looked across at him in shock.  “I know he thinks he needs to find an heiress, but I don't think he really wants to wed yet,” she whispered, too startled to revert back to Mind-Speech.  “Oh, Seisyll, must you?”

    He smiled reassuringly.  “He seemed willing enough once he saw her picture.  And I daresay she'll be equally willing once she's had a chance to meet him.  Her father's dying, Sophie.  Not immediately, but it's just a matter of time.  He wants his daughter cared for, and...well, just to be perfectly candid, Lisette's dowry should be quite sufficient for Stefan's needs.”  He squeezed her hand.  “I know it's not ideal.  It's not a love match.  But there's no reason it can't become one.”  And she's Deryni, he added. Quite well trained, too.  I think you'll like her.

   Really?   Sophie looked thoughtful.  At last she sighed. Well, as long as Stefan's not averse to the idea.  I just wish you'd told me first before you took the liberty of mentioning her to him.

   Why, so you could fret?  He sent a quiet mental chuckle her way as he stood briefly to take the empty seat beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders.

    She eyed him warily.  What are you doing?

    He stole a glance around the corner.  The Contessa's head was bowed, focused on her needlework.  Now that you realize I'm courting you?  Taking another liberty.

   He bent to steal a kiss.  It was a long moment before Sophie remembered how to speak again.

Chapter 20:
« Last Edit: January 10, 2011, 03:25:32 pm by Evie »
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

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

Offline Alkari

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 19
« Reply #1 on: July 17, 2010, 01:55:26 am »
Now that you realize I'm courting you?  Taking another liberty.

He bent to steal a kiss.  It was a long moment before Sophie remembered how to speak again.

AWWWW - those quiet ones!   :)

Offline Elkhound

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 19
« Reply #2 on: July 17, 2010, 11:29:16 am »
Have we met La Demoselle deCourcey yet?

Offline AnnieUK

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 19
« Reply #3 on: July 17, 2010, 11:35:02 am »
I think she's another new character, Elkhound. 

Offline Evie

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 19
« Reply #4 on: July 17, 2010, 11:51:21 am »
She's new, but if you've read the Childe Morgan series, you've met her great-grandfather Michon de Courcy.  She descends from Michon's heir Aurelien.
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

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

Offline kirienne

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 19
« Reply #5 on: July 17, 2010, 04:03:55 pm »
Ooohhh, nicely done. I look forward to each new chapter. The characters you've introduced fit perfectly, and I've already become attached to them all. You have a gift for writing, my dear.
Now, I must tend to my overly long neglected housework, before I give this a second reading.

Offline Elkhound

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 19
« Reply #6 on: July 17, 2010, 08:04:32 pm »
I think she's another new character, Elkhound. 

It is getting hard to tell the players without a scorecard.


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