Gwyn let out a shrill scream as she threw her headdress to her dressing table, Zorian watched from the door, standing patiently, having stood there for more than a moment, his legs ached and cried for even a slight movement. Yet he stayed waiting as he held a jug of sweet smelling wine, hoping to hear even a small command from his stepsisters lips, as she flung herself violently onto her bed. Her fists thudding against her sheets and pillows, “all this effort,” she shrieked, “all my beauty, for not, for why was he not there?!” she sounded as if she would burst into tears and Zorian felt a growing vile of annoyance in his throat as he stared at her bed, her hair fallen about herself in a mess, she let out a muffled scream again, “i knelt for an hours time on that step, for nothing! Nothing, oh gods, how pitiful am i? How shall i be his wife if he dose not even see me?”
Zorian repressed to comment, as Gwyn began to sob helplessly into her sheets, “Zorian!” she shouted, “Zorian!” her voice scrapped,
“Yes, my lady,” he spoke tiredly in a quiet grumble shuffling to her side,
“Pour my wine, i am in dire need of it,” she ordered, picking up her glass from her side table, without lifting her head to Zorian, the boy puffed out a breath as he spilled the intoxicating liquid into her glass, “is it i? Am I at fault?” she quivered, bringing her glass to her lips, taking a large thirsted gulp, “i am far more beautiful than those at court, why i had heard many say so, so why? Why does he not pay me mind Zorian?”
“Perhaps it is a good thing, there are others who wish to seek your hand,” Zorian said dryly.
“I do not want them!” she shouted, “i want the prince, i want to have little princes and princesses, i do not want to marry some lowly lord.”
Zorian sighed, “what of that merchant from the east? he is far richer than any king or prince.”
“He is but a simple merchant, i’ll have no title, no place at court if i marry him.”
“He is very fond of you, I doubt he’d ever mistreat you, he’d give you all jewels and silks you could ever need and more.”
Gwyn snorted, “he has no castle in which to see the vast sea, he dose not have a crown in which to wear, no lordship nor land,”
“I hear he has much land in the east, a palace made of gold I had heard in gossip.”
She snorted again, “who had told you this? A serving maid? A traveling bard?” she jeered,
Zorian frowned, “just things i have heard in town, and from Will, he has apparently taken residence at court, the king is fond of him.”
Gwyn jolted up, “he is at court?” she questioned,
“That is what Will had said, yes.”
“And he is a favorite of the king?” she asked surprised,
“He is a very intelligent man, charms, wit and all,” Zorian spoke bland, “his tales from the east are becoming the very source of entertainment at court. Will has even said that he is favorable with a sword too, has beat the king's best guards and knights.”
Gwyn was quiet for a while, Zorian could see from her expression she was deep in thought, “if he really is as close to the king as you say he is, then all might not be lost,” she dimly said, “quickly,” she snapped, “get some parchment, ink and quill, i want you to write a letter.” she told Zorian, “it must be delivered immediately.”
He placed the jug of wine on her bedside table, quickly going to one of her draws bringing out a small jar of ink, a feathered quill and some parchment. Gwyn sat up, pushing her golden hair away from her face, “address it to the merchant,” she ordered, as Zorian dipped his quill into the ink, she cleared her throat beginning to talk in a sweetening tone that matched her mothers, which left a shiver to trail down the boys spine. “Now, then,” she breathed, “my dearest,” she began as Zorian copied her every word, “if you are to attend the first night of the festival this coming eve, then i would be made the most joyist, if you would spare the first dance for me, for all my heart and mind has been drowned in thoughts of you my beloved. And i would no sooner be happy to be your bride, but I have heard of your friendship with our good king and in good coincidence i can not expect your hand without his majesty's blessing, but i fear he would not deem me good enough for your gentle self, so i ask you please praise me in your words to him, and perhaps i may have a chance tonight to prove my worth to him as a suitable bride. It is my dearest wish and need. Till tonight my sweet. my love always, Gwyneth Harlingway.”
Zorian finished, blowing on the parchment to dry the ink, “quickly, quickly!” she shouted at the boy, jumping off her bed, marching to him, she pushed him harshly to the door, “go, it must get to him before tonight, get the messenger, send for a horse!” she yelled, shoving him out the door, she watched as Zorian walked down the hall, “quickly!” she screamed at him, Zorian sighed and began to walk at a quicker pace, he found the messenger in the kitchens eating a spare chicken leg from previous nights supper, “Tom,” Zorian huffed, “take this, lady Gwyn is determined that this be delivered this very second,” he rumbled bitterly, handing over the then rolled parchment, “deliver it to court, to Pelian Keligana.” he told the man, who sniffed whipping his mouth of meat juices that lined his lips,
“That foreign merchant?” Tom asked,
“Yes,”
“I’ll get a horse.” Tom mumbled, getting up from his stoll, he bowed to Zorian, “milord.” then rushed out of the kitchen and to the stables,
Zorian sighed, as he fell onto a chair. “It’ll fail.” he said aloud,
“What ‘ill?” Mertel questioned,
“Gwyns plan, she hopes the merchant will endorse her to the king enough for him to think she is good enough for his son.”
“That girl needs to stop that nonsense about the prince, i ‘ear ‘e don’t like company of girls very much.”
Zorian chuckled, “I can not wait to see her face when she realizes.”
“She should just marry that merchant, she’ll be happy that way.” Mertel stated.
“Ah, but our lady would not have her daughter marry such a unimportant man.” Zorian mocked in a whimsical voice.
“That bloody woman will be the death of us all. You know she ‘ad two men and a child hung today for theft.” she told Zorian, “they wouldn’t ‘ave to steal if she’d stop raising those fuckin’ taxes.”
“It’s ‘ard enough to pay the kings,” a kitchen maid spoke up, “I ‘ave ‘ardly any of me wages left this month.”
Zorian sighed again picking a piece from a loft of fresh bread, “it’s all those parties that they throw, and for the damn gowns.” he chewed and swallowed his bread, “the prices for the fabrics have gone up again,”
“Bloody ‘ell,” Mertel muttered, “i wouldn’t be surprised that she’s only raised the taxes for the stupid kings festival. Beauty takes money.”
“They’ve already had five new gowns made for the festival, how more do they need?” Zorian grumbled.
“The amount of thread they’ve been orderin’, you’d think they’d be embroiderin’ all the sheets in the keep.” Mertel said,
“If Gwyn does anymore, she’ll have no fingers to embroider with,” Zorian scoffed. Mertel and the kitchen maid laughed,
“I ‘ave never seen a lady be so bad at somethin’ like that before,” the kitchen made chuckled,
“Wait till you hear her play the herp,” Zorian sniggered.
“Why don’t you go tonight?” the kitchen maid asked after a moment,
“Our mistress wouldn’t allow that,” Mertel answered for him,
“But he is a lord, and the king had invited all-”
“I would not want to,” Zorian said abruptly, “I find no enjoyment in dancing, and I would only get drunk and make myself look the fool.”
The girl jumped leaning against the table to Zorian, “no!” she objected “Never milord, you could never look foolish, you are far too handsome.”
Zorian scoffed, “I would not know anyone, it would be no fun for me. The only good reason I can think of to go, is for the food.”
“No doubt the king will ‘ave the finest delicacies laid out,” Mertel murmured.
Zorian sighed, licking his lips, “you can only imagine,” he sighed.
“Zorian!” a voice screamed at the top of their lungs, “Zorian!”
The boy groaned, “milady, is calling you.” Mertel told the boy,
“Yes, I heard.” he nicked, getting up off his seat and slumping along out the kitchen and to the stairs.
He entered his stepmother's chambers after three knocks, “come in,” she beckoned, he bowed his head to her,
“My lady,” he spoke,
“Zorian,” she smiled, “come,” she extended her hand to him, Zorian moved to her, instantly she took hold of his hand, “my, look at you.” she stared at his face, “more and more like your father each day.” she squeezed his hand painfully, her nails embedding into his palms, but Zorian remained quiet, as she carried to smile, “you have been neglectful of your duties,” she began, “the floors are ripe with dirt and in need of a good polishing. And the sliver,” she told him, “they need a good do over, you can do that can’t you?”
“Yes, my lady,” Zorian said between his teeth,
“Good, and let us not forget the garden needs a bit of weeding done, and animals fed and pens cleaned. I want it all done by tonight before I leave, is this understood?"
“Yes my lady.”
“And you must help prepare us all for the festival, I want Gwyn and Rob to look their best.” she let go of his hand, her fingers tracing to his chin, as she forced him to look her way, “Rob, has been talking to me about something concerning you.”
Zorian gulped, “my lady i have no desire to-”
“He is right,” she told Zorian in a honey coaxed tone, “you are your father's son, and if you do all your duties i may allow you to come, and you must have something to wear, i’ll not have you look like a pauper.”
“My lady i have no wish to-”
“It will make dear Rob so very happy to have his step brother with him tonight.”
“My lady, I do not wish to go.” Zorian spat out,
His stepmother looked at him, “pardon?”
“My lady, I would not have fun at such an event.”
She grinned, “of course not, your place is here, with the filth," she spoke so matter of factually, Zorian felt no reason object, "you would only embarrass yourself, better to save the roaring laughter for another time, it would not do good for Gwyn and Rob to associate with you, i mean you are but a serving boy after all." she chuckled softly, "No one of any importance, like dung on the side of the road.” she let go of his chin, “now go, Zorian, there are things that you must be getting on with.”
Zorian turned from her, his fists tightening at his sides as he exited out from the room, and down the stairs, till he came to an empty corridor, and no sooner did he look around to find no one about, did he slam his clenched whitened fist into the stone bricked wall, with a strong force to leave throbs of pain all the way up to his arm and shoulder, his knuckles stung as he saw them turning a shade of red, blistering, gazing at the stone brick he hit, that he saw had specs of blood stained on them. He sighed his head resting on the cold grey stone, “filth,” he said, sighing, “filth…”
Comments (2)
See all