Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(49)

“Edwyn,” Brant returned with a distracted nod. The servant turned back to the laborers.

“This section should be done about two days hence,” Edwyn said.

Brant stared blankly along the stone. Behind him, a woman laughed. It was undoubtedly a servant, but the gaiety of the sound sent chills over his spine. It was sweet and light, as a woman’s laugh should be. His body jolted with unfulfilled desire and he considered taking his wife up on her offer. Mayhap it was time he took a mistress. If his wife was not going to fulfill her duties, there were many lovely maids in the keep who would. More than one had shyly shown their interest in him. Before Brant could seek out his new companion, Edwyn stopped him.

“Have you seen m’lady’s plans fer the fortifications?” Edwyn inquired tentatively. “I wondered if you were to be continuing with ‘em.”

“What?” A dark storm rumbled in his words. “What would a woman know of such things?”

Taken aback, the man didn’t hide his surprise. “Did they not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Brant took a menacing step forward. He was very tired of all the secrets floating about the keep. Cleaning spirits, dead mothers, a woman who loved children but loathed the idea of having any of her own, pains in hearts caused by Vikings. And all of them centered around his darling wife.

“Lady Della laid the plans fer the castle herself.” The man’s face beamed with pride. It was the look of a father talking of his favorite child. Though Della was not Edwyn’s kin, Brant saw the two were close and ignored his use of her old title. Not many referred to her as Countess or Lady Blackwell anyway. The seneschal had no children of his own. According to Lord Strathfeld, Della and Edwyn had spent many years together while her father was off fighting wars. Continuing, the man said, “These walls were her design. She had ‘em constructed first of wood to make sure they would work properly and she has been slowly replacing ‘em with stone. She took many of her ideas from the south, writing to nobles under her father’s seal to secure the plans to the old Roman fortresses and then combining the best parts together. She can be quite persuasive when she puts quill to parchment. The result of her efforts is what you see here, Strathfeld Castle.” Edwyn waved the broad sweep of his hand over the home with pride. “She is responsible fer almost everything.”

Brant forgot his desire. “But she is so young. It is not possible.”

“She started when she was eight. Though, at first, the servants had a hard time listening to her. That is why she has become so distant in nature. She had to be if she wanted to be taken seriously.” Edwyn shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “Methought you knew.”

“Come, let me see these plans.” Brant assumed the older man gave too much credit to his lady wife.

Edwyn nodded, motioning him into one of the chambers built into the wall. A single torch lit the area, glowing over a small bed in one corner next to a wooden table with a few personal belongings. By the bed were rolls of old parchment.

“What is this place?” Brant asked.

“My chamber,” Edwyn answered. “M’lady was kind enough to build it fer me, so that I may work in private.”

Edwyn grabbed a torch off the wall and opened a small door that Brant hadn’t noticed in his first inspection of the place. It led to a hidden chamber. Inside there were several long wooden tables with papers thrown haphazardly on top. On the floor there were a few writing quills, wax seals, and blank parchments neatly stacked.

Edwyn moved to light several torches, throwing the room into light. The smoke from them drifted up and out of a small crack in the top of the domed ceiling. Bricks were laid in a circular pattern on the floor, spiraling from the middle. It was an odd room, but impressive.

“It’s m’lady’s design. It has to do with the flow of the air. It took several years fer her to perfect the system. That is why the seam in the rafters isn’t centered.” Edwyn pointed at the dome. “It will take me but a moment to find the plans. We’ve had ‘em memorized fer so long that we ne’er use ‘em.”

Brant slowly walked around the peculiar room. On one table several parchments looked like the practice sentences of a beginner writer. Brant’s own writing wasn’t so neat. Next to them was a master copy of the same sentences written perfectly. Continuing along the table, he found his wife’s name girlishly carved into the wood next to a flower. He ran the tip of his finger over it.

Edwyn saw him and chuckled. “M’lady did that one night. She was thinking of carving images in all the wood of the manor, like giant, permanent tapestries. She must have been about fifteen then.”