Her entrance stunned the warriors into silence. The sight of a lovely woman, dressed in an exquisite emerald and ivory silk gown that revealed more than it concealed, left them with their mouths open and their eyes gleaming in appreciation.
Faraday smiled as she made her way gracefully towards them, her skirts rustling musically as she moved. Thank the Mother they’re standing by the fire rather than the other end of the Hall, she thought to herself, not letting the smile slip from her face and tilting her head slightly to display as much of her elegant neck as she could. Long sleeves and thick full skirts notwithstanding Faraday was close to freezing. Still, she wanted to entice Borneheld into marriage as quickly as possible, and she could do it better in this dress than wrapped in a thick woollen cloak.
Faraday stopped three paces short of Borneheld and sank into a deep curtsey. “My Lord Duke,” she said, “I am sorry if my sudden entrance has disturbed you. Say the word and I will leave.”
“No, no,” Borneheld stammered, leaning forward to take Faraday’s hand and help her to her feet. “You are not disturbing us at all. Please, do not go.” By Artor, Borneheld breathed to himself as Faraday rose, she’s even more lovely than I remember. And to think that she risked her life to journey to Gorkenfort to be by my side. She is as brave as she is beautiful, he thought. And she is mine.
Faraday stood quietly for a moment, regarding Borneheld as objectively as she could manage. He seemed larger and more powerful than she remembered. His auburn hair was cut even closer than before; now it was little more than a dark red shadow across his head. His grey eyes, his best feature, glowed with approval and Faraday could see herself reflected in their depths. He looked immeasurably pleased to see her, but was obviously struggling to find the right words. Remembering her girlish dreams of turning Borneheld into a gentle and articulate courtier, Faraday now wondered if he could ever be anything but the gruff and blunt fighting man he was. She broadened her smile at him and then turned to the other men present. Best to press the advantage of surprise home while she still held it.
“Earl Jorge, it is my deepest pleasure to see you again.” In past years the grey haired Earl Jorge had twice visited her father’s home in Skarabost and had been kind and courteous to her, treating her with respect. She inclined her head; her position as betrothed wife to Duke Borneheld now meant that she outranked the man and did not have to curtsey to him.
Jorge stepped forward and lightly kissed her free hand. “My Lady Faraday, I will not pretend that I am not surprised and a little alarmed to see you here.” His deeply seamed and weather beaten face crinkled into a bare smile as he spoke and his hawk-like eyes pondered her reflectively. Faraday hastily turned away to Duke Roland, lest those eyes see too much.
“My Lord,” she smiled and sketched him the curtsey owed to his rank. Duke Roland bowed as elegantly as his bulk would allow and returned her smile cheerfully. “My Lady Faraday, you are looking lovelier than any of us remember. How fortunate that you survived that dreadful earthfall.”
The other nobleman present stepped forward. He must be Lord Magariz, Faraday thought as she smiled and offered him her hand. His dark hair was liberally speckled with silver and a red and angry looking scar ran down his left cheek. His face was darkly handsome, almost mysterious, certainly provocative. Faraday tore her eyes away from his face and noticed he was heavily favouring one leg. She remembered hearing that he had been badly injured in an attack on Gorkenfort at the beginning of DeadLeaf-month. He had the spare look of a man who lived only for battle, but his face hinted at hidden depths of untapped ardour and his dark eyes sparkled at her with unexpected humour.
“My Lady,” he smiled as he straightened after brushing his lips across the back of her hand. “We had hoped that Gorkenfort was impregnable to surprise attack, but here you have the best military commanders in Achar struggling to regain the advantage after your unexpected entrance. Be well and welcome to Gorkenfort, Lady Faraday.”
Faraday smiled at his gracious remarks then reluctantly pulled her hand from his and turned back to Borneheld, giving Timozel and Gautier a brief nod as she did so. “My Lord, please do not tell me that I was wrong to come here.”
“Well,” Borneheld began, but Earl Jorge broke in.
“My Lord Duke, Gorkenfort is hardly the place for such a gently bred lady. We are a military establishment and we expect attack any day now. Borneheld, I beg you, now is the time to return your Lady to safety in Carlon.”
“Oh no!” Faraday said hurriedly, genuine concern shadowing her eyes. She placed her free hand over Borneheld’s fist where it held her other prisoner and spoke pleadingly. “Borneheld, my love. My mother is dead, and I only barely escaped death myself. In my grief and loneliness my first thought was to join you. Please, I beg of you, do not send me away now.” She drew deep on the seed of power that the Mother had given her and stepped closer to Borneheld, smiling into his eyes and gently squeezing his hand between her own.
Borneheld took a sharp intake of breath, as did most other men in the room. Already beautiful, Faraday had assumed an aura of such allure that all the men present felt themselves responding to it in some measure. Borneheld had no intention of trying to resist; if the woman desired him so much, then why deny her?
Faraday saw Borneheld’s eyes darken and pressed her advantage home. “My Lord,” she breathed, “have I come all this way for nothing? Please, Borneheld, let us not delay our marriage any longer. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
By the Plough, Jorge thought, breathless himself, could I have refused so beautiful a woman who rode through snow and danger to be by my side?
All Borneheld could see was the lovely young woman in front of him, declaring before all these men that she had risked her life to simply be by his side. All his life he had suffered the indignity of watching women smile and compliment him on his fighting skills, while all the while their eyes had followed his half-brother. Well, now he had won a prize that even that fatherless bastard would doubtless hunger after. She had come to him, not Axis!
“No doubt you thought only of me after the BattleAxe failed you so dismally,” he said. “I shall have him flogged for his incompetence when he arrives here.”
Faraday quailed at the image Borneheld’s suggestion brought to her mind, yet she knew that she could not plead for Axis now. “I should have stayed in Carlon with you, my love. My father was wrong to send me with the BattleAxe. Perhaps,” she smiled coquettishly, “we should have my father flogged instead?”
Borneheld burst into hearty laughter. “What a mischievous lady you are, Faraday. A surprise, I must say. Well gentleman,” he said turning to the three lords, “could you resist such a beauty as this? I admit that I cannot. Gautier!”
Gautier snapped to attention. “Sir?”
“There is a decrepit old Brother still lingering about the fort, eating his way through stores that would be better spent on a fighting man. Go find him.”
“I will find him instantly, my Lord Duke,” said Gautier, wondering where the man could be in the maze of the fort.
Borneheld turned his eyes towards his lieutenant momentarily. “See that you do, Gautier.” He looked back at Faraday. “For I think we will be needing his services at a wedding this afternoon.”
Faraday felt her stomach knot, but maintained her smile. “My Lord,” she breathed, “I can hardly wait.”
Magariz turned and caught Gautier’s arm as the lieutenant strode past him. “Gautier,” he said quietly, “you will find the Brother dozing in front of the kitchen fires.”
Gautier’s face relaxed in relief. “Thank you, my Lord.”
Timozel, quiet up to now, stepped forward. “My Lord Duke,” he began, and Borneheld turned towards him with mild impatience. What did the Axe-Wielder want now? He had done a service rescuing Faraday from the earthfall and escorting her northwards, but surely it was time for him to depart gracefully? Borneheld’s eyes narrowed in thought as he looked more closely at Timozel. The charming yout
h had grown into a striking man and a nasty suspicion flowered in his mind. The journey north would have taken this pair weeks—just how had they amused themselves at night? Was he about to get something less than he had bargained on?
“My Lord Duke,” Timozel went on, “I do not think you yet quite realise the deep bond between the Lady Faraday and myself.” Borneheld tensed and Faraday felt his fist close tight about her hand. Oh, dear Mother, she prayed even as her face flinched from the pressure of Borneheld’s fingers, do not spoil this now, Timozel. “My Lord Duke, after our fortunate escape from the earthfall I realised that one of the best ways that I could protect the Lady Faraday and bring her to your side unharmed was to pledge myself to her as her Champion.”
Borneheld gaped in surprise and he almost laughed. Champion? No one did that now! Mingled with his amusement was some degree of relief, perhaps Faraday was not as spoilt as he had thought a moment ago. Behind him Jorge and Roland exchanged surprised looks. The last Champion they had known had been of their grandfathers’ generation. Unlike Borneheld, however, neither of them was prepared to dismiss Timozel’s pledge so lightly. What was this girl that she had managed to win herself a Champion?
“My Lord,” Timozel dropped to his knees in front of Borneheld. “My pledge of service also extends to my Lady’s husband. Know that I will serve you as loyally and with as deep a fervour as I serve your Lady wife. I pledge to always put your honour and your cause before my own and before any other vow that I may have made previously. My Lord Duke, will you accept my service?”
Suspicious a moment ago, now a glow of triumph began to suffuse Borneheld’s face. Not only had Faraday fled Axis’ protection to be at his side, but now Timozel had cast aside his vow of loyalty to Axis and the Axe-Wielders in favour of service to Borneheld. And to think that in a week or so Axis himself would be here to witness Borneheld’s triumph—and to hand over control of the Axe-Wielders. Borneheld dropped Faraday’s hand and smiled at Timozel’s bowed head.
“Timozel,” he said, not bothering to hide the triumph in his voice. “Take my hands.” Timozel looked up and placed his hands between those of Borneheld. “Know that I, Duke Borneheld of Ichtar, do accept your vow of service and loyalty. Be welcome.”
Faraday was shocked by Timozel’s actions, but forced a smile to her face. “My Lord, you are so generous. ’Tis no wonder the troubadours sing your praises far and wide,” she said, noticing that Earl Jorge was looking at her strangely. She smiled lightly at Jorge and hoped that he hadn’t noticed her shock at Timozel’s disloyalty to Axis.
“My Lord.” Gautier’s voice called from the doorway. At his side stood an old man, his frame so fragile he looked almost ethereal, dressed in the habit of the Brotherhood of the Seneschal. “I have found Brother Francis.”
“Brother,” Borneheld said jovially as they joined them. “I hope you can remember the Nuptial Service. I have a marriage I wish to transact.”
Brother Francis smiled at Borneheld and Faraday and nodded his head. “It has been many years, my Lord, but it is a Service that all brothers hope they will be called upon to perform one day. I am honoured that I should be asked to join the lives of the Lady Faraday of Skarabost and Duke Borneheld of Ichtar.” Gautier had obviously briefed him on the way up the stairs from the kitchen.
Borneheld turned to Jorge, Roland and Magariz. “My Lords, I would be honoured if you would witness my marriage.”
They inclined their heads graciously, although each was growing just a trifle impatient to return to the more desperate dealings of war.
“Faraday?” Borneheld turned back to her. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Faraday said simply. She did not trust her voice for any more. Axis, forgive me, she prayed silently. Please understand what I am about to do. For an instant she let herself recall what it had been like folded in his arms, but then she thrust the thought from her. I must never think of that again, she told herself firmly. Never.
“My Lords and Lady,” the Brother said, and then slipped smoothly into the words of the Nuptial Service. Faraday felt as if she were in someone else’s dream, watching proceedings from a great distance. Ah, she thought to herself, neither Axis nor myself are our own people any longer. The Prophecy of the Destroyer demands a cruel price from those who must serve it.
Abruptly she realised that the Brother had fallen silent and that now Borneheld was holding her hand and speaking.
“I, Borneheld, Duke of Ichtar, do stand by my promise of marriage to thee, Lady Faraday of Skarabost, and in front of these witnesses I do promise to honour you, to remain loyal to you, and to pledge to you my respect, my possessions, and my body for as long as we both shall live. To this I do freely consent and will. You have my pledge of marriage, Faraday, and to this may Artor bear holy witness.”
He stopped and Faraday realised with a start that he was waiting for her vows. She had to clear her throat before she repeated the vows.
Brother Francis still had a few words of the Nuptial Service to utter, but Borneheld had enveloped Faraday in a powerful embrace. Neither heard him impart the blessing of Artor upon them and pronounce them husband and wife. Jorge looked at the pair, musing over the events of the past hour. He wondered if Faraday had been as sure as he had first believed. The girl had hesitated slightly before she spoke the holy vows and even now she appeared a little too rigid in Borneheld’s embrace for a woman who had risked death to join her lover. Well, if she had doubts, then it was now too late. They were as legally and as tightly married as could be. Only death would sever that bond now. So he had witnessed. So he would attest.
“Listen to me,” Yr said very quietly, “no matter what he does to you physically, he can never touch your soul—not if you refuse to let him. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Faraday nodded, her stomach tight. For weeks she had avoided thinking past the marriage ceremony itself; avoided thinking of the duties of a wife to a husband. Yr stood behind her unlacing her silk gown. Poor sweet girl. Borneheld was the last person who should induct her into the arts of love. Yet…it was necessary. She and Jack had fought long and hard to get Faraday to this point. Thank the Prophecy that they had reached Gorkenfort before Axis.
“Artor, girl, have you not finished with my Lady yet?” snapped Borneheld, standing by the fire of their bedchamber.
“In a moment, my Lord,” Yr said softly as she touched the pale skin of Faraday’s back, trying to give her some reassurance. But Faraday was too rigid to respond even to the Sentinel’s touch.
As Borneheld continued to shift impatiently behind them, Yr swiftly unlaced Faraday’s gown and helped her slip into a robe. She met Faraday’s huge and apprehensive eyes for an instant, tried to impart some reassurance with her own eyes, then turned and walked for the door.
In the pale grey light of dawn Faraday eased her aching body as far away from that of her husband’s as she could, praying that her careful movements would not awaken him again. Despite her best efforts tears finally forced themselves past her eyelashes. She knew that Borneheld had not meant to be unkind, but his own fierce desire for her had made him unwittingly impatient and thoughtless. She had tried her best to please him, but her lack of knowledge had confused Borneheld, and his love-making had turned out to be every bit as clumsy and unpleasant as his conversation.
She had wanted to think of Axis, had wanted to use the memory of his arms about her as a talisman against the reality of Borneheld. But Borneheld’s presence was too powerful and his demands on her body too great for her to be able to retain any image of Axis in her mind at all.
But Borneheld had been pleased, and for that Faraday was grateful. Then she frowned. When it had finally been over, Borneheld had patted her belly hopefully. “Perhaps I have planted a son there tonight,” he had panted, then had rolled over and immediately gone to sleep.
No, Faraday thought, her own hands on her belly now. No. I married him to serve the Prophecy but I will not bear him a child. I do not have to give that much.
“Mother, hear me,” she whispered, “let me remain barren. I will conceive no child of his.” For a moment the heavy ruby ring pinched on her finger and she twisted it to relieve the pressure. It was every bit as heavy and uncomfortable as Borneheld was. “Grant this my wish.”
“Faraday?” Borneheld’s voice whispered sleepily. “Is that you? Are you awake?”
Faraday heard him turn over towards her and bit her lip to stop herself from tensing when she felt his hand fumbling at her breast.
“Come now, my dear. Your husband needs you.”
42
RE-ACQUAINTANCES
In the end Faraday had well over a week before Axis arrived in which to accustom herself to marriage and to ensure that Borneheld continued to believe that she loved and wanted him. She learned to accept Borneheld’s nightly demands upon her body, asking him to show her what she could do to please him. Very reluctantly, Faraday had to admit to herself that if it hadn’t been for her love for Axis, if it hadn’t been for those brief moments under the stars at the Ancient Barrows, she might have come to tolerate her marriage to Borneheld. In his own way, Borneheld wanted to please her. If his efforts at love-making were sometimes brusque and uncompromising, then those were qualities admirable in the soldier if not the lover—and Borneheld had never pretended to be anything else than what he was.
Borneheld had no use for Faraday during most of the day, locked as he was in discussions with his military commanders or occupied with leading patrols into the northern wastes. He did like her to come and watch him at weapon training in the mornings, though, and there Faraday made complimentary remarks as she watched him swing his heavily muscled body, bared to the waist, through sundry complicated manoeuvres with sword and staff. He was a powerful man, as Faraday now knew in more intimate detail, but sometimes as she watched him her mind drifted to another man she had once watched at weapon practice early in the frosty mornings on the Plains of Tare.